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hellishjoel · 8 months

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cherry

7.6k / pairing: dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

summary: Joel invites you over for a movie night with your parents and Sarah out of town. How are you supposed to focus on the film with his hand on your thigh?

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, neighbor!joel, age gap (reader is in their early 20s while Joel is in his 40s), cursing, alcohol consumption, use of pet names, softdom! Joel AND dom!Joel (restraint by command), oral sex (m receiving), praise kink, reader titty appreciation, super descript about Joel’s bulging biceps (we all know the picture that came out with him holding onto his luggage and I have not REST)

A/N: I wrote all of this today.. I don't know what's wrong with me. I hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope these two are growing on ya'll as much as they're growing on me <33

Joel could sense the shift, his hand coming to gently cup your cheek and bring your eyes back to his. He didn’t look mad like you maybe expected of him. You could feel his jaw going slack under your thumb, your mouth sucking in the side of your cheek as you sat in awkward silence. You sort of wanted to leap out of his lap and return to the movie. But he wouldn’t let you, he planted you there with his hand on your hip and forced you to look at him. You teetered your wine glass on his shoulder. “You wanna kiss me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, causing a few syllables to be cut out due to the raspiness. You slowly nod. A beat passes. “Why won’t ya let me then?”

A few times throughout the summer, the lakehouse was yours and yours alone. While on vacation, your parents always make it a point to go out to dinner and drinks with their old friends that lived in a neighboring town, leaving you in blissful solitude.

You used to go with them when you were younger, too young to be left home alone. You’d hang out with their son, Nathan, on the tire swing or go swimming in their pool.

Once you and Nathan both turned thirteen, you found that Nathan was involved in a lot of sports leagues that summer, and therefore he wasn’t going to be around much. Your parents didn’t want to punish you and force you to hang out with four grown adults all day, so they let you stay behind at the lakehouse.

It was your first sense of freedom, taking care of yourself, having your own routine. You remember breaking into your piggy bank and riding your bike into town with Sarah that day to play at the arcade. You came back home with your lackluster arcade prizes and made mediocre hot dogs. It was a little lonely, the house often bustling with noise from your parents, but it was also serene to be alone.

Needless to say, you were at peace to wave your parents off this morning as they backed out of the driveway and left you and the lakehouse for the day.

Your eyes flitted over to the Miller’s. Both Joel’s pickup truck and Sarah’s used and abused 2000’s red Saturn were parked in the shade. Part of you couldn’t believe Sarah could even drive. That five-year-ish age difference felt even more profound as young adults.

You tried to find ways to busy yourself tonight until your date with Joel. Date? Not a date. Hang out. Movie night. Meet up. Rendezvous. Literally any other word besides date.

You needed to distract yourself because tonight was a ways away.

You busied yourself with cleaning your room and bathroom, followed by reading on the dock. When it got too warm, you took a refreshing dip in the lake, followed by some leisurely sunbathing. After a shower, you found solace in jotting down your thoughts in your journal, channeling any residual nerves about the upcoming night.

You found that documenting your summer experiences provided you with a sense of clarity. You aimed to revisit these entries later in life, reminiscing about the intensity of your emotions. These pages held memories of your first boyfriend, the elation of passing your driving test, the ache of lost friendships, and the journey to college.

After the bonfire, before you couldn’t even think about sleeping, you were ferociously writing in your journal. The way your heart raced, the way you were so proud of yourself for taking a leap of faith with Joel. Because it was so, so worth it.

In the decades to come, the memories you once experienced that felt so fresh would naturally fade. That’s the point of your journals, to document how deeply you felt about your life at the time. Pouring your emotions onto the page felt like tending to a wounded heart. In hindsight, those entries about sadness and turmoil elicited a little giggle. Your mom always told you that it was better to feel anything than not to feel at all.

You wondered how much Joel felt, like, really felt. On the surface, he was as cold and unmoveable as stone. What was he like with his passions and the people he cared about? You knew he loved Sarah to an unimaginable degree. He would do anything for her. But besides his own blood, what were the things he cared about?

After putting pen to paper, you shoved your journal under your pillow and started to get ready. You over-dicked-around, and now the clock was ticking.

You wanted to look somewhat nice. After your recent interactions with Joel, one where you quite literally looked like you just rolled out of bed, you were keen on looking at least somewhat presentable.

But it was a movie night, after all, and you wanted to be comfortable. You opted to wear something simple, not too date-ey, not too casual. But you did wear Joel’s hoodie. It wasn’t for any overt purpose but because Joel’s house consistently seemed to mimic an icebox. Joel struck you as someone who could thrive in Alaska, content in solitude amid the cold.

The hoodie still smelled like him, mixed with a little residual bonfire smoke, but his scent was still deeply lodged into the fabric. A navy hoodie with fraying material around the neckline and cuffs. Well-worn and well-loved. He must have loved it enough not to take it to work because it was free of any stains and rips from what you could tell.

You twirled your finger around the hoodie’s strings, looking yourself over slowly in the mirror. Your eagerness practically floated you over to Joel’s house, Sarah’s car now gone. She must have left for her camping trip.

After taking cautious steps up Joel’s rickety porch, you sent a rhythmic knock against the Miller’s front door. You heard a few heavy steps on the other side, hearing a lock flip before Joel appeared in front of you.

“It’s about time, I was starting to sweat.” You said as you pulled open the screen door that divided you two before walking past him, catching his subtle eye roll as you did so.

The house looked like the same as it did ten years ago. Lots of dark wood, a cozy living room with a fireplace, and a lamp in the corner by the window. Joel had the perfect view of the lake. You naturally gravitated further into the room to look at the water glisten as the last hits of sunshine glided over the horizon.

“You want somethin’ to drink?”

Your head snapped to Joel, your arms already crossed at the cooler temperature piercing through the material of your clothes.

“Yeah, what do you have?” Your small steps trekked into the kitchen, finally taking a full look at Joel. Your face faltered at the sight of him.

Joel had traded in his usual tattered green flannel for a nicer, cleaner denim button-up. He had on his staple worn-in jeans, and for whatever reason, he still had on his work boots. But his hair was sort of run-through, freshly showered and combed back. He looked handsome, clean, like he was trying.

You slyly smiled at him. He seemed to quickly catch your drift, already avoiding your eye contact with a huff. “I got... Whiskey,”

“Ew, no.”

“Root beer,”

“Nope.”

Joel let out an excruciatingly long sigh as he ducked his head further into the depths of his fridge, mumbling something about you being a piece of work.

“It’s water, or,” with a groan, he stood up from the fridge, “this bottle of wine. Probably old.”

Old? The bottle looked nothing but. No dust, fresh label, barely chilled. You didn’t want to call out the poor man for trying to make tonight classy, but you knew Joel had purchased this bottle of wine for tonight. For you.

If it were any other date or any other guy, you would have pushed his nose into it a bit. Teased them for caring and being so sweet. But this wasn’t any other guy, this was Joel. And if you ever tried to admit that you saw right through him, he would clam up for the rest of the evening out of his adorable bashfulness. So you let it be. For now.

“Wine’s good.” You say casually with a little nod, trying to relax your cocky smile. Even when he turned around to fetch some old wine glasses inside the very top of a kitchen cabinet, you could tell he was satisfied with himself. Hiding a smile with his back turned.

You pulled the bottle closer to read the label. You rolled it around in your hand, your thumb tracing the stamped lettering. Cherry wine.

“Haven’t had a chance to eat all day, got us some pizzas,” Joel said as his head nodded to the side, following the direction to two pizzas still warm and in their cardboard box homes on the counter.

“Can’t have a movie night without pizza.” Your voice cooed as you set down the wine to take a peak inside, seeing all of its cheesy glory.

Joel topped off a singular wine glass, your head twisting curiously at just the one. He clinked your glass with his beer bottle, and you rolled your eyes.

“Thanks.” You murmured, turning on your heel to grab your glass and one of the pizza boxes before walking it to his living room.

You sat right in the middle of the couch, not giving Joel any excuse to sit too far away.

“Scootch,” Joel said as he motioned with his beer bottle to make room on the couch. You made a little noise of disapproval toward him.

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head.

“What?”

Your sneaker tapped the heel of his boot.

“Take those off. You can’t relax during a movie still wearing work boots.”

He looked a little perplexed before looking down at his boots. Probably forgot they were even on. They were practically his spare feet at this point.

“Fine. You too.” He said as his steel toe gently nudged your sneakers in return. You softly nodded, both of you undoing your laces. Sitting on the couch arm, Joel worked to loosen one boot and then the other, hearing the methodical snap of the laces. You slip yours off with ease, picking them up by the upper heel collar and tossing them by the door. Joel just kicked his aside and sat down next to you with a thump into the cushion.

“We’re watching Pride & Prejudice.” You commandeered the remote out of his hand, his eyebrow cocking to you in disbelief.

“The hell is that?”

Disbelief tangled your facial expression. “You’ve never seen Pride & Prejudice?”

Joel’s cocked his head to the side, face sitting like stone. Really?

“Do I look like the type’a guy that watches Pride & Prejudices?”

You rolled your eyes and huffed.

“It’s based on the novel by Jane Austen. About... literally so much. The independence of women. Societal norms relating to gender and marriage. Any of this ring a bell?”

“I know Sarah likes it. That’s about it.” Your smile quips up as you click play. “Perfect.”

“Do we have to?” His annoyance held no restraint.

“This movie night is to get back into my good graces, is it not?” You asked as your body leaned away, getting a good look at him.

Through tight lips, he held back a smile before nodding a little and turning to the opening credits. “Yes, ma’am.”

It didn’t take long for Joel’s arm to settle around your shoulders, bringing your body into his side. His thumb was stroking the hoodie you wore, his hoodie.

In his close proximity once again, your senses pick up on his now all too familiar scent; Woody, minty, a little bit of citrus from his body wash. He smelled good, you wonder if he wore cologne tonight or if this was his natural musk. You wouldn’t put it past Joel to naturally smell this good. He was good at a lot of things without even trying.

A few slices of pizza and two glasses of wine later, you started to feel the weight of Joel’s unbearably heavy arm. You released yourself from him and opted to turn and rest your side against the back of the couch cushions, putting your legs in his lap.

You hadn’t been watching the movie for the last twenty minutes. Couldn’t stop trying to subtly look at how handsome Joel looked in the flicker of the television’s light from your peripheral. You couldn’t help it. He looked so big and hot, like a lumberjack, his stupid build alone making you fold.

You bite at the inside of your cheek as Joel’s large and warm palm gently make slow strokes up and down your calf. Your body was trying not to twitch. Your heart was thrumming in your throat. You glanced up at him again, his eyes lasered in on the television.

“Why’d he…” Joel’s voice trailed off, bringing your attention back to the screen.

Your eyelashes fluttered, your brain trying to get you out of Joel Fantasy World and back into the film. “Hm? What?”

“Why’d his hand cramp like that? Why’d they film that part?” Without intention, Joel’s curiosity was evident in his question. It immediately made you smile as you watched the television again, your body slumping into his side.

“It’s not a hand cramp, he’s flexing it. It’s the film’s interpretation of his like… emotional turmoil and struggle. His feelings are evolving for Elizabeth, though he’s trying to appear all aloof and distant towards her. But their physical connection, he can’t really hide it, y’know? He can’t hide how he feels. So he flexes his hand because he’s affected by her presence and her touch. He can’t help it.”

Joel’s hanging onto every word you say. You’re not so sure if he’s interested in the film as much as he is in hearing you talk about it. The hand that was messing around on your calf was now trailing higher up your thigh. And flexing the higher it climbed.

Your eyes looked from his amber ones to his lips, your heart racing faster in your chest. With one hand still clutching your wine glass, you managed to swing one leg over his lap to straddle him. You folded first. You couldn’t take Joel’s achingly slow touches.

His enjoyment was obvious in his movements, his calloused hands slowly pushing up your thighs until they landed on the security of your waist. He was gripping the hoodie in his fists, observing your silhouette.

“This mine, too.” It wasn’t a question, he was pointing it out to you. Joel giving you his own clothes to wear was by no mistake. It was a way of marking what was his, even if it was just in his mind.

“Mine now.” Your words were whispered, leaning down and kissing at the hook of his jawline.

“Like you in it. Wear it a hell’uva lot better than I do.” The shift in his voice was clear, huskier, and a little touch drunk. The film’s volume seemed softer now, playing as white noise and falling abandoned.

His words made your stomach flip, your teeth purposely grazing against his skin. The motion made his hands trail down lower to the globes of your ass, humbly squeezing the flesh with the spans of his palms. A weak moan left your lips against his ear as he planted kisses on the inner side of your neck and on your shoulder. He was so fuckin’ greedy for you.

“Joel,” you whispered between kisses along his jawline, lips coming up to his chin as one of your hands gently cupped the side of his neck while the other clutched your wine glass for dear life.

As soon as your lips came close to his, you faltered. And Joel could tell.

Suddenly both of your eyes were open, soft, and holding contact. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. The only thing that actually came from you was a little sigh of disappointment, your eyes shyly flitting away.

Joel could sense the shift, his hand coming to gently cup your cheek and bring your eyes back to his. He didn’t look mad like you maybe expected of him.

You could feel his jaw going slack under your thumb, your mouth sucking in the side of your cheek as you sat in awkward silence. You sort of wanted to leap out of his lap and return to the movie. But he wouldn’t let you, he planted you there with his hand on your hip and forced you to look at him. You teetered your wine glass on his shoulder.

“You wanna kiss me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, causing a few syllables to be cut out due to the raspiness. You slowly nod. A beat passes. “Why won’t ya let me then?”

This was Joel’s second or so attempt to kiss you. The first time was on the tailgate of his truck, you didn’t even think about letting him kiss you in his woodshed.

You weren’t trying to remain mysterious or aloof, something he managed to do so naturally. You shifted in his lap uncomfortably, your eyes drifting to the window behind his head and watching the water shift in the black of night.

“It’s not that deep, Joel. Just don’t want anyone to get attached.” You shrug and shake your head. “I don’t know, who cares?”

“I care.” Even blasted on movie pizza and beers, he was as quick as a whip. His care wasn’t soft, it was strong. He cared like a fiercely loyal shield.

You exhaled a deep sigh, your chest reflecting your breath as he slowly brought you back to him.

“I’m scared that I’ll like it.” The movie’s distant volume was comforting white noise to your nerve-wracked conversation with Joel. This was perhaps the most you’ve talked with him in one sitting. And about something so deeply personal, too.

He took in what you said, slowly beginning to shake his head as his hand cupped more seriously against your jawline.

“”t’s just a kiss.” His tone was seductive, sincere. Whispering like no one else in the world could hear. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t feel pressured, Joel was looking at you like he genuinely cared about what you had to say. About the movie, about the kissing. He bought you wine, he got pizzas, and he’s suffering through a period drama to sit beside you on his couch. Damn you, Joel Miller.

You felt your body relax into his again, no longer cold and rigid. Your bodies meshed as you fell into the front of his chest, your hand on his neck moving up to cup his jaw. You tilted up his face and received no resistance. Just kiss him.

You met his lips, soft and sweet, delicate and gentle. Your hand slipped from his jaw and landed absentmindedly on his chest, feeling his thumping heartbeat against your palm.

You didn’t pull away. It was impossible.

He tasted like mint and whiskey, with hints of residual smoke from a cigarette earlier in the day. You wouldn’t know he smoked unless you were tasting him like you were right now.

Joel was encouraging something out of you, deep and primal, as you let the kiss deepen. He took the lead with a heady mix of softness and urgency.

He set a scorching fire between your legs, purely drunk on his lips alone. It sent a shiver down your spine how intense this stone-like man could be. Your mouths moved with desire and rhythm, feeling an electric spark that sent your senses ablaze.

Goosebumps had sprinkled across the skin of your arms, your once soft hand on his jaw now clutching him there and tugging lightly at his curly tendrils. You weren’t letting him go.

Your sounds filled the room, hot and wet kisses punching the air from both of your lungs.

A breath was shared, your forehead on his as both of your chests rose and fell together.

His eyes caught yours. More?

You gently nod. Please.

He was back with you in a hot heat, both of you wanting, no, needing more of one another.

He balanced a tantalizing fusion of passion and longing, a magnetic pull that had you grinding your hips down into his lap.

The world around you faded into a blur as you felt his tongue glide across your lower lip, asking permission. Your lips easily parted, tongues dancing and melting, your hands shaking a bit in excitement.

Joel was consuming you. His tongue marking his territory as he explored your mouth before kissing you heatedly once more. You realized that the kiss wasn’t an exploration of feelings at all, Joel wanted to languish in your taste, stake out the claim of your mouth. Taste and territory.

A low grunt left the depths of his throat as your hips ground over him with desperation now. You could feel his dick swelling against your ass.

Your lips quirked up in a smirk against his, you liked that you could feel his facial expressions, and he, yours.

Without thinking, you went to cup his face in both hands, your wine glass dropping onto Joel’s chest, and what little wine you had left was splashing his denim button-up red. He didn’t even notice.

“Joel--, wait,” you were breathless as you pulled away, his lips moving to the open expanse of your neck instead, his arms tight around your lower back. He could care less about his shirt, or the wine, or the spare glass rolling around between your stomachs.

You laughed breathlessly, closing your eyes as you kept your chests apart, careful not to get wine on his favorite sweatshirt next. Your head fell back, your hair fanning out as you grinned at the ceiling.

“Joel, your shirt is stained.” You tried to point out, both of your hands clamped onto his shoulders weakly to keep him at a distance. But his lust-filled lips had a taste of you that he couldn’t replace. His teeth grazed the soft skin of your neck, wincing lightly as you let out a broken little whimper.

“Don’t care.”

Oh my god. Fuck. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, desperate for more, but you weren’t going to let him stain one of maybe three decent shirts he owned. And with wine, you had to be fast acting.

“Come on,” you said weakly, not even convinced yourself to break away. “Joel, your shirt-”

“Don’t. Care.” He growled through gritted teeth, eyes hungry as you felt him lick a hot, slow stripe up your neck to your jaw. Fuck, he felt so good.

Despite his clear lack of empathy for his shirt, you felt bad because it was your spill, your accident to try and make up to him.

You rolled your eyes playfully and shook your head. He didn’t stop until you planted both palms against his pecs and pushed him back with little force, watching as he fell into the cushions with a lazy smirk on his face as he looked over you. Joel was drunk off your kiss.

You found your footing on the hardwood floors, grabbing his hands and attempting to pull him up and off the couch. He playfully resisted, just kept sitting there as you weakly tried again.

“Stop bein’ such a dick.” You huffed. His laugh filled the room, nearly startling you. It was always quite the opportunity to hear him laugh so big like that.

“Couldn’t pull me up no matter how hard ya try.”

“Shut up. Stand up.” You ordered with little follow-through from Joel.

He yanked his hands from yours and planted his palms onto the tops of his thighs, pushing himself off the couch and following you aimlessly to his master bathroom.

“Do you have some hydrogen peroxide? Dishwasher detergent?”

He stayed silent but looked at you quizzically. You rolled your eyes and started looking through different cabinets.

“Baking soda?” Cocking your head to him, he nods and disappears before returning to you with the little orange Arm & Hammer cardboard box.

You cleared your throat and looked at him expectantly.

“Joel, I can’t clean the shirt with you wearing it. Take it off.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see his lips upturned in a cocky smirk. Sometimes you just wanted to smack it clean off his face.

Fine. With a sense of ferocity, you began to take him down button by button. He lets you. He even steps closer to your body, and you try not to get distracted by him.

“I don’t wanna be the one that messes up your nice shirts.” You murmur.

“t’s fine.” He cups your cheek again and tries to divert your attention once more. He’s not even actively trying to kiss you, he just wants to get a rise out of you now. You’re trying not to smile at him in the reflection of his bathroom mirror. Your elbow jabs into his bare abdomen after you’ve peeled the wet material from his torso.

“Quit it.”

“Quit what?”

Forcing yourself to turn away from him wasn’t enough. Now he’s behind you planting kisses down the side of your neck with his hands on your waist and toying with the hem of your sweatshirt.

You had to admit being on his lap like that got you hot and bothered to the tenth degree. Now you were nursing a stained shirt and the ache in your core.

“‘lright, fine.” Oh, thank god. You could breathe again. You were this close to caving, and caving to Joel was a losing game.

He found a towel and wiped at his chest and torso while you blotted away with a paper towel the excess wine in his shirt. After getting out what you could, you sprinkled the baking soda over the little splashes of red and added a few drops of water to make somewhat of a paste. Now you just had to wait for it to dry and toss it in the laundry.

You hoped you didn’t ruin the denim shirt, you quite liked how he looked in it. The blue denim complimented the soft silver in his curls, and the cuffs rolled up accentuated his biceps.

Speaking of biceps. Your eyes innocently watched him move around the bathroom shirtless. He was somewhat toned, a handsome mix of dad bod and muscle. Like a sexy lumberjack. He was big and broad, wide in the shoulders and smaller in the waist. With all the summer log chopping, his biceps were toned.

A shaky breath left your mouth, his eyes catching yours in the mirror before you quickly looked away, washing your hands of the baking soda paste you had made.

“It’s uh… It’s good now. Just let it dry and put it in the washer. Alone. Without anything else in there.” You quickly nodded, over-clarifying again. You braved looking at him again in the mirror. Mistake. A smug little smile that beat up your guts was laced on his lips.

Your hand was quick to reach for the door handle, but his hand was already on your other wrist and pulling you into his front.

“Get back here,” Your name drips off his lips, and it’s drenched in lust.

Fuck it.

Your arms quickly wrapped around his neck, feeling his raised trap muscles under your forearms as your lips reunite with Joel’s.

Getting that first kiss between you two out of the way was a blessing in disguise because now you knew him. You were acquainted with his lips. You liked his taste, you liked how soft he was, you liked the stubble of his beard, and you liked the way his warm palms were on you as soon as you entered his space. He embraced every inch of you, his kisses were feverish, and they left your mind in a tailspin. No one had ever kissed you like this before.

You ducked your head down before he could stop you, kissing over his wine-spoiled chest. You kissed lower and lower before licking a slow stripe up his sternum, tasting residual cherry and sweetness from the wine.

Your lips parted as you looked in the mirror, realizing now that he had pinned both your wrists behind your back and planted them at your tailbone.

Your doe eyes innocently looked up at him, his face masked in desire and an appetite for you.

“Get on your knees.”

A breath hitched in your throat, your eyes trying to focus as you looked over Joel’s face. Your eyes fluttered down to his biceps, strong and defined with veins lining like rivers coursing along the curves as they held your wrists back. You didn’t hesitate to drop down to your knees.

He had let go of your wrists, so you brought your hands up to undo the button of his jeans, but he tsk-ed you.

“But I-”

“But nothing. Put your hands behind your back again.” You pouted but obeyed. You wanted to touch him.

Your lips parted as you watched Joel pop open the button of his jeans, his thumbs lining the hem of his jeans and boxers at his hips before pushing them down to his thick thighs. His cock was already half-hard from when you were grinding on him back on the couch.

Your breaths grew heavier, you couldn’t manage to stay in his hoodie. You peeled the heavy navy sweatshirt off, leaving you in nothing underneath, which earned sweet praise from Joel as soon as you laced your hands once more behind your back.

“So fuckin’ pretty.. Look at you.” He lightly leaned over and cupped one of your tits, massaging it in the heart of his palm and rolling your taut nipple around with his thumb. A quiet whine was elicited from your throat, face crumbling as your hands fought hard not to release themselves behind your back.

You wanted to touch him, cup his face, hold his thighs, wrap your hand around his dick that was flush against his stomach.

A harsher tug to your nipple left you moaning, watching as he leaned down and let a long, long dribble of spit connect from his lips down onto your chest. Your head fell back at the cool sensation, feeling it aid the heat of your breasts.

He stood up tall again, broad and towering, as you glanced over to the mirror. The dynamic was almost charming. You on your knees for Joel, his blushing cock swelling against his happy trail. He was so handsome, so greedy.

Without thinking, you released your hands from around your back and moved to steady yourself on his thighs.

“Not gonna tell you again, pretty girl.” You paused and looked to Joel. “No usin’ your hands tonight. Just that dirty mouth a’yours.” His accent was drenched with lust, dripping like syrup.

You whined as you assumed your position with your hands away, not knowing what to expect if you tried to use them again.

You attempted to crawl closer to him, your knees practically between his slightly parted legs.

You kissed up his inner thigh, grinning lightly at the slight taste of his sweat. Your tongue kitten licked at his balls, hearing him seethe in a breath through gritted teeth. Sensitive, a little wrinkled, lightly groomed just for you. It made you smirk that he cared enough to trim.

You tested the waters, letting your warm mouth coat him in saliva, going from one ball to the other until they were both practically dripping. His cock was twitching for your attention, but Joel was above begging and groveling. For now.

With devilish eyes, you looked up to him as you suckled one of his balls. He didn’t stop you, just cursed a little under his breath as his chest moved faster. You picked up the suckling from him when he nursed your sensitive, throbbing clit between his teeth and tongue. Now, it was your turn to repay the favor.

Your lips released him with a pop, and you watched as Joel let out a breath he was holding in. His hand loosely fisted your hair in a loose ponytail atop your head, a little moan leaving your mouth as your scalp tingled with his tug.

Your eyes closed as you worked over the other ball, suckling and licking and doing it all just to watch his cock grow angrier and more jealous of the attention. Your own spit was falling down your lips and chin, coating your breasts in a glistening sheen.

Working without your hands, you used your core to balance yourself against Joel. Your knees dug uncomfortably into the floor. He liked watching you work to suck him off.

You had to look to Joel for assistance, his shaft so hardened now against his stomach that you couldn’t reach. You sat up as straight as you could, Joel smirking down at you and watching you struggle for a few brief moments. “Come ‘ere, pretty girl.” He used the free hand not tangled in your locks to guide his tip down to your open mouth, your lips wrapping loosely around the head.

You made the mistake of releasing him out of habit, whimpering as your knees scrambled on cold tile to get him back to the warmth of your mouth. He opted to help you again, guiding his tip onto your red, wine-stained tongue.

This time, you learned not to release him. Your tongue salivated his tip, swollen and sensitive. You could tell by how tight Joel clutched your hair and nearly pulled you off.

You smirked lazily around him as you took him deeper, your watery eyes on his as you interlocked your fingers by your tailbone.

You were slow at first, little nods back and forth, up and down his shaft. You blinked through any residual tears, slicking him up with your spit and proceeding farther down his shaft. You clenched your eyes closed and choked lightly as you took him to his base, a low groan of praise leaving Joel as his thumb stroked up your cheekbone.

“Fuck me, so fuckin’ good for me, darlin’.” His words were broken by his rasp, but the praise sent you into overdrive.

You bobbed your head at a good pace, Joel guiding you by your hair up and down his shaft, slicked by excess saliva that was dripping onto your tits and your stomach. You had to take a breath, but you learned from earlier. Your head came to rest against his thigh, head foggy as his tip sat plump against your cheek. You looked at the two of you in the mirror, and it was quite a sight.

Joel’s body was planted by his heels, his toned torso and biceps protruding with hints of sweat. You had black-smudged tears on your waterline, and your face was filled with warmth. Your hair was a mess, Joel gently stroking it back from your sweat-glistened forehead as you breathed through your nose. You liked watching you work in the mirror. Watching him get ruined in the mirror. Watching yourself get ruined in the mirror.

You started your rhythm again, this time your eyes locked loosely on the mirror in your peripheral. Joel’s cock made you choke each time you took him deep, but you didn’t let it stop you. He was so close, you had the heady taste of his precum on your tongue. He liked it messy.

“Fuck- can’t,” Joel let out a rugged moan, it felt like it vibrated the tiles under your aching knees. Your wrists were throbbing from keeping your arms back, hands clenched together tight as you followed his rules. “Can’t hold on when you take me so-- so goddamn good.”

You whimper-whined against his cock, hollowing your cheeks as you moved with intent up and down his shaft. You opted just to take what you easily could now, focused on keeping the pace and working towards his orgasm. You thought about Joel fucking your mouth, but he wanted you to feel some sense of control since you had your hands back. Maybe you wanted to lose all control. If it was Joel you were losing it with.

Joel was close, he couldn’t hold back how messy he had gotten. He had a steel-tight grip on your hair, and his breaths were laced with broken moans and grunts of your name. He kept wiping away any tears that slipped past your eyes and onto your cheeks, despite being devastatingly close to an orgasm you knew he was drunk on.

“Yeah, fuck me,” He murmured under his breath, his cock twitching deep in your throat now. “Take me so well... The fuckin’ best, babygirl.” The best.

You watched through blurry, head-dizzy vision as Joel’s ab muscles contorted. “Gonna cum, baby, stay with me.” He panted, eyes locking on yours as you nodded on his shaft and continued your sweet rhythm.

You whimpered as his tip pulsed against your tongue, going down on him as deep as you could and clenching your eyes closed, waiting for Joel’s impending climax. And he kept you there as he painted your throat white.

His cum came out in hot ropes, moaning lowly against his shaft as you focused on tasting him and breathing through your nose. He was salty, little beads landing in the back of your throat as you swallowed around him.

Joel’s moans were glorious, breathy, and aching to say your name. His eyes had fallen closed, his stance still tall and broad. You wanted to touch him, kiss him. You decided to lay your head against his thigh, still breathing around his dick as you watched yourself in satisfaction through his mirror.

“Fuck,” he murmured low, pulling you off of him with a pop. Your jaw lightly throbbed, but god, you felt like you were in the clouds.

“Hands?” Your raw voice whimpered. He gave a silent nod of approval, and with his permission, you released your interlocked hands and lightly toppled back on your ass, leaning against the door to his linen closet.

Joel observed you for a few moments, making sure you were okay before he grabbed a spare washcloth and ran some lukewarm water over it. Your eyes peeked open when you heard his zipper go up on his jeans, seeing he had straightened out his bottom half.

You tried to focus your vision, seeing him squat down beside you and lightly press the cold washcloth to your temple, cheeks, and up your neck. It helped, you were settled, safe, and with Joel.

“Holy fuck.” You finally said once you had come down from your high. Your eyes met Joel’s, seeing both of your mouths were quirked up in lopsided smiles.

“Too much?” He asked, the washcloth now delicately cleaning up the saliva on your breasts.

You slowly shook your head. No, never too much. Just new.

You looked around, feeling an ache in your knees and in your wrists. You rolled your wrists in circles to relieve some pressure on the joints before you pushed your palms up and down your kneecaps gently.

“Hey,” Joel’s words caught your attention, turning to him as he lightly cupped your cheek. “You were fuckin’ perfect, darlin’.” A weak mewl left you, a tired smile on your lips.

“You said the best.”

“Was perfect. Was the best. Did a perfect job.” His praise punched excitement through your veins, regaining your strength to stand back up with Joel’s honorable assistance. You murmur a thanks before you make a grab for Joel’s hoodie. As if he was going to steal it back from you.

Joel excused himself to go clean up the kitchen, leaving an attentive kiss on your cheek before he left you alone.

You took a few minutes to rinse some water around in your mouth and try to brush your fingers through your knotted, matted hair.

“Need to get yourself a brush, Mr. Miller.” You murmur as you pass him in the kitchen, seeing he pulled on a new t-shirt and that he had put some of the leftover pizza in spare Tupperware containers.

“Can’t eat it all by myself, and Sarah won’t be home for a few more days.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. He could so totally finish that pizza if he wanted to. He could do it tonight as soon as you leave.

Reading your mind, he shoved the container into your hands. “Just-- fuckin’ take it, why you gotta make things so damn difficult.”

You smirked and patted the container softly. “My specialty. Irritating old grouchy men.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head at you, picking up the wine bottle next and figuring out what to do with it. Your eyes softened, watching the gears turn in his head for how he was going to handle this situation.

“Do you care if I take the rest of it home, actually? I know it’s yours, and it’s been yours for a while, but it was really good.” Lame excuse. Joel leaned into it though, nonetheless. You were at Joel’s side now, looking to him with gentle eyes and a tender smile. He teetered on his feet for a moment before he nodded and handed it over.

“Yeah, you’re doin’ me a favor so it doesn’t just keep sittin’ in the fridge.”

You nodded softly and tried to jam the cork back in as well as you could, Joel swiftly taking the bottle from you and popping it back into its home with ease due to his sheer strength.

You turned to the television and huffed, seeing the credits of Pride & Prejudice roll. Dammit.

Joel joined you at your side, crossing his arms and giving the television a once over. “So did they, y’know, end up together?” There was Joel’s pure curiosity again. This time, he didn’t hide it so well.

“Guess you’ll have to watch to find out. Don’t forget to throw that shirt in the washer.” You said with a cocky grin, holding up the wine bottle and pizza leftovers in gratitude before walking to the door. Joel followed you out, and you looked at him curiously.

“Gotta make sure you get home safe.”

Your head rolled to the side, watching as he shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “What?”

“Joel, I’m staying right next door. You could see me go inside from your living room window.”

He just shook his head and looked beyond you to the water.

“t’s dark.”

Your chest fluttered with warmth, a smile on your lips growing past one you could deny. Let him have this one.

“Thanks, Joel. Thanks for the pizza and the wine and… stuff.” Now it was his turn to let you have this one. The stuff. The kiss. The multiple kisses. He didn’t make it a big deal, just rolled with the punches. You appreciated it.

You wanted to know what was next for the two of you. The feeling of your cores grazing one another set a fire in you that only Joel could put out.

You pondered whether or not to kiss him goodnight and find a lame excuse to try and thank him again for the wine bottle when you saw two pairs of headlights coming down the road.

“Shit,” you murmured under your breath, looking to Joel with a pained expression. He looked disappointed.

You didn’t say goodnight, you didn’t kiss him before you left, you just… left. You moved down Joel’s rickety wooden porch steps with haste, sneaking into the lakehouse through the garage door as your heart thrummed at a face pace. You felt like a child getting caught by your parents.

You didn’t know what to do with Joel’s pizza container and the wine. You could figure out an excuse for the pizza later, so you shoved it into the fridge, but definitely not the half-drank bottle of red wine. You double-checked that the cork was in there tight, and of course it was because Joel pushed it back in, but you couldn’t help but check because it was going to be stowed under your bed for safekeeping.

You changed out of Joel’s hoodie and into an oversized band tee, walking out of your bedroom with a book when your parents returned through the door.

“Hey, kiddo. You’re still up? ‘t’s past eleven.”

You try not to roll your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip as you tightly nodded. “Yeah, I know. I stay up late a lot at school and stuff, working on papers or out with friends. Staying up past eleven isn’t that weird for me.”

You didn’t mean for there to be so much venom in your comment, but you weren’t a baby. Nearly every day at the lakehouse so far this summer has elicited a few don’t call me kid, I’m an adult, I make adult decisions, comments from you.

Your parents looked too tired to care, which somehow stung worse.

“Okay, sweetie, we’ll see you tomorrow morning. Your dad and I are headin’ to bed.”

Now you felt bad. You pursed your lips and nodded, putting your hands behind your back and resting them on your tailbone absentmindedly. This was the same pose Joel had you in tonight. You already wanted to go back there.

“Sorry, goodnight.” You whisper, seeing your dad give you a tired smile before patting your shoulder.

“Hey kiddo-” He paused at the nickname and took a breath. “Sorry.” You playfully smiled and shook your head. Go on.

“Do me a favor, grab the steaks out from the freezer and put them on a plate in the fridge. Wanna have Joel and Sarah over for dinner tomorrow night. Feel like I haven’t seen them all summer.”

Your face went ghastly blank, feeling yourself fall hollow like a collapsing building. If it weren’t for how tired your dad was, he would have seen right through you like a ghost. “You- Oh, you want to have them come by for dinner? I don’t think tomorrow’s gonna work. Sarah’s camping and-”

“Oh, well, Joel can still swing by for dinner. Need to eat up those steaks. Every time I open the freezer, they stare at me. They’re beggin’ me to eat them, it ain’t fair.”

You forced out a laugh, but of course, your father couldn’t tell. Just thought he made one hell of a zinger.

“So-So Joel over for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, kiddo. And don’t forget to take out the steaks. Love you.” He turned the corner down the hall, and then he was gone.

You sighed and lightly chewed at the skin around your thumbnail. Great. One big happy family dinner. And Joel.

---

here's my masterlist!

here's how to join my taglist!

@jrrmint @gracieispunk @macfrog @strang3lov3 @notjustjavierpena @bastardmandennis @joelslegalwhre @brittmb115 @casa-boiardi @nostalxgic @cool-iguana @chim-cham-blog @joeldjarin @unsteadyimagines @pattwtf @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @schnitzelwnoodles @flippittygibbitts @turtles-all-the-way-d0wn @cartoon-garbage04 @lunarxeclipse @alltheseperfectimperfections @sunnywithachanceofjavi @kyloispunk @hopplessilse @keeponlivinmanl-i-v-i-n @toxicfics @angelicnotifs @iquitedislikeithere2 @livingdeadmaria @emmalandry @worhols @radsanchez @pedritoferg @lucyeyelesbarrow @airalihmarylu @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @suzmagine @pastawench @crazedquilter-blog @kaitangatatacos @amanitacowboy @loveisacowboyyy @kittytiddywinks @slut-for-bucky-barnes @mendessi @aphterthoughtt @chyannealaniz @pedrotonin @barbieratogabx-blog @chicville03

(idk why so many of my tags aren't working. Might make a notifications blog instead where you'd follow it and turn the notifications on and I'll only reblog my work on that account. ugh a problem for another day, okay ily ttyl I'm gonna go watch twilight)

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bettysupremacy · 4 months

Note

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do steve Harrington x reader where Robin accidentally tells Steve that the reader has a crush on him? I love your writing 🫶🫶

this request made me realize I’ve been seriously neglecting Steve, I hope this satisfies enough

The days been seriously slow.

Rainy and cold, nobody wants to travel in the wet to get a movie. They do it the day before. It’d been busy. Customers in and out, in and out, buying their families copies of their favorite film. Steve’s sure he never sees as much business as he does the day the forecaster predicts rain.

“I kind of miss customers.” He now picks at the patterned carpet lazily.

Robin scoffs. “I don’t.”

“But like,” Steve breathes. “we’re so bored.”

“At least we’re getting paid.”

He shrugs. Good point.

She shuffles, dipping her hand down to tug on his shoe. He pulls back, faux kicking her. They smile at each other.

“Truth, what’re you doing after work?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I can’t drive around I’m busy.”

“Abandonment.”

“Stop!” Steve laughs, throwing carpet fuzz at her. “I’ve had this day booked for weeks.”

“Oooh,” She sips the slurpee she’d begged Steve to stop for before his shift obnoxiously. “do tell.”

“Y/n.” He murmurs.

The chill is seeping into his shirt sleeves, finding home over his skin briskly. Or maybe it’s embarrassment settling there. His eyes are heavy and he contemplates the reality of Robin letting him take a nap in the break room. She doesn’t look too trusting now.

“God, you guys are practically dating,” She complains. It’s not that she doesn’t like you, you’re her best friend. Just sometimes, she wants her other best friend to drive her around. “I’m sick of this. I introduced you!”

“We are not dating,” he laughs nervously. “you know that.”

“You practically are.” She shrugs. “Just ask her, I’m sure she’d say yes.”

“That’s not true.”

“She literally wouldn’t say no.” Robins annoyance bubbles out rather quickly. She didn’t sign up for abandonment and denial in one day.

Steve isn’t particularly perturbed by this, slumping over his knees dramatically. “What if.”

He murmurs it some more, quiet mantras of his unsurety.

“Dude stop.” She smacks his head. “I’ve known her for” She pretends to count on her fingers. “ever, if there’s one person she’d say yes to a date with, it’d be you.”

He peaks up from the solemn of his knees. “What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

Robin flinches, zipping her work friendly uniform jacket higher. “Just like,” she trails off. “you guys already know each other so well, I doubt she’d say no.”

He laughs a little. “You’re such a liar.”

“No i’m not!”

“And a bad one.” He giggles, attention undivided. “What do you know?”

“Literally nothing.” Robin moans. “We don’t even talk like that.”

“You’re so stupid!” Steve flicks her. “You’ve been friends ‘forever’.”

Robins palms soothe her eyelids. “She’s gonna kill me.”

This accidental defeat of admittance tingles in Steve’s fingers. Something he didn’t know he could feel until this confession of requited infatuation. Adrenaline pumps through his body, though he forces himself still for answers.

“Since when?”

“Awhile.” She understates for the sake of your pride.

“Wow.”

“Oh god,” She complains, almost whining. “Please don’t be stupid about this, she’s my only friend and I can’t-“

“I’m sitting right here, Rob.” He scoffs. “And I’m not going to be stupid about this.”

She peaks up, ashamed. “So what are you gonna do?”

“I mean shit,” he breathes. “I see her tonight.”

He checks his watch, standing up briskly to Robins horror. He cannot possibly be leaving her.

“What’re you doing?”

“I clock out two minutes ago.”

“No, no, no,” she whines, not making a move to get up. “do not leave me here alone.”

“I have places to be!”

“You’re abandoning me! Again!”

Steve walks straight into the break room, a new sense of pride bubbling in his chest. He’s gotta get his girl.

“Don’t be weird!”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington ficlet #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic

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flowerandblood · 3 months

Text

The Knight & The Judge

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, smut, angst, domination and humiliation kink, description of physical and mental disabilities, prejudices against disabled people, aggressive behavior, violence, swearing, trauma, mention of an accident with fatalities ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 2 − The Sin & The Penance

Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight

Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard

Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

On that day it seemed to him that the whole world had turned against him. His coffee machine had broken down, there was more traffic than usual on the roads, he was sure he would be late for work, and his brother had woken up in a mood worse than always and cried all the way to the centre.

"I don't want to go there. I-I'm scared of some of those kids." He muttered under his breath, swallowing loudly, whooping with tears. He looked at him in the mirror, feeling a squeeze in his throat every morning when he left him there, but saw no other alternative.

He still hadn't recovered mentally after what had happened five years ago and, according to his psychiatrist, he wasn't ready to attend a normal school until he gained more confidence.

He did not want to force him to listen to unpleasant comments, however, he felt uncomfortable himself.

The centre was huge, classes were taught in different groups of matched children, however, there were times when Daeron encountered kids with a spectrum of disabilities other than physical and was simply afraid of them.

He tried to explain it to him, but how was a child supposed to understand these complicated, sometimes even uncontrollable behaviours and screams?

He swallowed hard, leaning the back of his head against the backrest, turning on the right indicator with his hand, driving into the car park of the building where he would leave him for the time he spent at work, during which he studied and had various extra classes with children with problems similar to his.

However, was he to surround himself all his life only with children who had mobility problems, who had no arms or legs, who suffered from paresis or lack of feeling in their limbs?

Every time he thought about it he wanted to cry.

He turned off the engine, staring dully ahead, hearing his mother's screams again in the background of his mind as his father fainted behind the wheel and drove off the road into the other lane – he felt once again that hard crash with the big truck coming from the opposite direction that crushed them.

They were only alive because they were in the back seats at the time, Daeron, however, was not as lucky as he was.

Compared to what happened to his younger brother, the glass that smashed into the left side of his face was nothing.

"Mrs Thomson said you can't spend all day at home doing one-to-one tuition. You have to see other children." He calmly repeated the formula he said whenever such a situation arose, opening his door, heading for the boot of his big black SUV – the car dealership had told him it was the safest and biggest model they had.

He took out the small wheelchair that had been put together and unfolded it, driving it closer, to the back seat where his brother sat, opening it – he looked away, unable to watch his brother's weeping face.

"I'm already late for work. Please. I promise we'll play FIFA' 23 together when we get back. Hm?" He muttered, and Daeron nodded, pale, breathing loudly, using his hands to move slowly towards the wheelchair onto which he shifted the weight of his body, hissing loudly as he lifted his legs onto the special supports.

The bones of his little legs had been simply crushed then – he continued to grow, the rehabilitation was hard and caused him great pain.

He would have preferred it to be him who suffered like this and not an innocent child, but God, who he wasn't sure he still believed in despite the deep faith his mother had always instilled in him, decided otherwise.

He closed the car and moved with him to the main entrance, pushing his wheelchair forward. When they got inside they were greeted by a lady they knew very well, several of his friends waved to Daeron, one of them was paralysed from the waist down, the other was missing one arm.

He swallowed loudly, thinking that his brother had to watch someone else's misfortune every day, himself for sure feeling like a cripple, like someone defective, someone who was a burden, even though he loved him the most in the world.

The cruelty of the situation left him with a clenched throat, so he would usually only throw him a few words to say goodbye, stroke his head and leave, only by the car tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, his healthy eye burning from the moisture that gathered under his eyelids.

As he always did in moments of breakdown, he started the engine, selected the number of his sister phone on the display under his dashboard and, turning on loudspeaker mode, started backing his car as he tried to drive out of the car park and drove ahead towards the national prosecutor's office.

"Hello? Aemond, did something happen?"

He heard Helaena's soft, sleepy voice. He knew she was still doing overtime as a doctor, overworking herself as much as he was and thought that he had woken her up after the night shift.

He felt remorse for not being able to handle it himself, although she always reassured him that she would always help him as best she could.

She got Daeron the best possible physiotherapist so that he was even able to take a few steps in the last month while holding on to his supports, however it still caused him great pain, the doctors said his bones would continue to hurt as long as he grew.

Perpetual undeserved suffering.

"I don't know what to do anymore. He says he is afraid of some of the children, those with intellectual disabilities. I know it's cruel, but fuck, I'd be scared of some of them too. Do they have to see each other in the same building, pass each other in the corridor? Shouldn't they be separated somehow?"

"God, Aemond, they're not animals. After all, they're children too." She said with sadness and resentment – he clenched his eye, sighing impatiently, trying to focus on the road again, tense.

"I know. I know. I really feel for them, but it's bad for his psyche. He recently asked me if he was normal, if he too would start shouting and babbling like them. That sometimes they are aggressive and the carers have to drag them away from him and his friends."

"It's horrible. Maybe he really should go there less often?" She asked sighing quietly, he heard her rise up on the bed with a quiet creak of the mattress.

"And what, he's going to sit at home with some boring old teacher? How will I know that no harm comes to him in my absence?" He asked resignedly, hearing silence on the other side for some time.

"Maybe find someone who won't be very distant in age. Someone who won't just teach him, but play with him and spend time with him. Someone old enough to be responsible for him and at the same time young enough not to feel so distant. Someone joyful." She replied, and he rolled his eyes as he drove into the underground car park of his office building.

"Joyful? I am supposed to pay someone to be joyful?" He sneered, shaking his head, his sister sighed again.

"He needs it, Aemond. We're all tired, and he's a child."

He hung up after a few minutes of further discussion, telling her he had to go, grabbed the case folders he'd just brought in and headed for the underground lift. He pressed the button showing the floor he wanted to move to when a woman's hand stopped the sliding doors, which opened a moment later.

Alys smiled broadly at him as she stepped inside with a confident stride – her high black heels emphasised how slender and long her legs were, her fitted, waist high pencil trousers and black blazer with a beautiful white shirt underneath highlighted both her confidence and her attractiveness.

He remembered the last few times the thrusts of his hips had pushed her into her desk, bent over and helpless, with firm, wide buttocks on which he tightened his fingers as he panted heavily, watching what he was doing to her, rooting into her again and again, thinking with mockery and amusement how easy it was to make a mere whore out of such a proud woman.

"Good morning, Mr Prosecutor." She said softly, contentment and calmness on her face, several of their intense close-ups had clearly left an intense mark in her, not just physical.

She liked the violent and determined ones, he knew that – she hid her age well and apparently decided that this was the last moment in her life when she could reach for what she wanted.

"Good morning, Miss Rivers." He replied calmly, uninterested in her ambiguous look, apparently suggesting that she wouldn't mind if what happened between them was repeated a few more times.

He was all about the sex. He was frustrated in this aspect – his artificial eye, although perfectly colour-matched to the other and the still clearly visible scar from where the glass pierced in, were a source of his complexes and shame.

He knew that no matter how perfect a professional he was, it was his appearance that made the first impression.

He preferred them to fear him rather than pity him.

In the courtroom he still struggled to be taken seriously so much so that his cold, calculating, ruthless nature began to frighten some – his judgement and questioning was harsh and lacking in compassion.

He knew exactly what he wanted and strove to get it.

His superiors quickly appreciated how skilful a lawyer he was and his ability to bring cases to an end and push whoever he needed to, hence he quickly moved to the National Prosecutor's Office, where more responsibilities and more money awaited him, which he could spend on Daeron's rehabilitation.

As he sat over the files he thought hard about what his sister had told him and decided that he would install CCTV in the house and then hire someone on a trial basis to see if it made sense.

He put up an anonymous job ad not wanting anyone to recognise him, described briefly his broad expectations and his rate per hour.

It turned out that dozens of people responded to his ad, just as he suspected attracted by the sum he had quoted, but he didn't know how he was supposed to sort them to choose the ones that seemed best to him. He began to read their answers, figuring that already from them he could deduce what types of personalities they were.

I am interested. My phone number is below.

Reject, he thought, clicking the red button informing the message sender that his offer was not accepted, and began to scroll further.

I am a carer with 10 years of experience. I have already cared for 14-year-old Mike with cerebral palsy, Adam with….

Reject, he clicked again.

He had no intention of making his home a second centre for the disabled.

He felt frustration and rage when he found that most of the messages were similar and just as empty in their tone, nothing convinced him about these people.

He knew Daeron wouldn't want to stay with them, and neither would he.

He stopped at one of the messages that looked completely different and blinked.

Good morning! I saw your ad and thought I would speak up. I'm a student, I'm studying costume design at the Faculty of Fine Arts. I'm looking for a casual job and I really enjoy working with children, I teach dressmaking as part of the teaching section of my university classes. I think that helping your brother with his studies at primary school level would be no problem for me at all, and I would also be happy to come up with different extra-curricular activities with him. Even if you decide not to hire me, I would like to sew your brother a costume of his favourite super hero, without any payment of course. You would just have to give me his measurements. I don't think anything makes kids his age happier!!! My warmest regards and I am sending my email below.

He looked at her message not too sure how he felt, at the same time being impressed, on the other hand feeling the seed of uncertainty and extreme caution characteristic of him when it came to his approach to newly met people.

What if this was a psychological tactic to make him believe her to be innocent and unselfish? To make him subconsciously choose her because she was the only one offering him something for free? If it was just her free promotion?

He chose two people reluctantly, but kept coming back to her message, trying to imagine her, seeing some crazy painting student looking like a hippie.

Maybe this was just what he needed? He thought with regret and sighed heavily, opening a new window in his inbox, writing her a short, brief email to appear at their house in a few days' time.

He was going to interrogate her.

The young man before her immediately made him uneasy – he had the impression that he smelled weed from him even though he had taken a shower, so he must have been smoking like crazy, and he had no intention of letting anyone who might encourage him to use any stimulants look after his brother.

The other girl was very frightened – his questions clearly startled her and made her uncomfortable, it frustrated him that she was barely able to make a sound. He thought she had something to hide, that people who have a clear conscience don't behave this way.

He thought with resignation that all he had left was a mad artist.

He sighed heavily as he heard the bell ring suggesting that someone was standing outside the gate. He walked over to the intercom and opened it, seeing in the small monitor a petite girl with dark, slightly wavy hair tied up in a ponytail.

He thought in disbelief that she was dressed for a job interview in a white turtleneck, dungarees and trainers, a fabric floral back on her back.

What the fuck, he thought, opening her door with a cold, indifferent expression on his face.

"Good afternoon." She said softly, a wide smile on her face. Before she walked in she wiped her shoes on the doormat, which pleased him. When she came inside she wanted to take off her trainers – he looked at her surprised, thinking she must be crazy.

"No, you don't have to. You can stay in your shoes." He said lowly, pointing towards the armchair, indicating to her with his hand the seat on the couch next to him.

She sat down in the seat he showed her, looking boldly straight into his eyes, her cheeks rosy with emotion.

She was clearly a tad nervous after all, he thought, musing for a moment that she had incredibly long, dark eyelashes.

"Do you have experience in working with children?" He asked immediately; she blinked and corrected herself in her seat, as if prepared for the question.

"Only in terms of working with them in sewing workshops." She answered simply, without any further explanation, which pleased him.

She was letting him draw his own conclusions, rather than imposing them on him so as to present herself in the most favourable light.

"My brother has mobility problems. How do you imagine helping him, for example, if he needs to go to the bathroom?"

"I think he's old enough that he can tell me himself what he'll need help with and what he won't, and what he'll feel comfortable for me to help him with and when he'll want me to leave." She said without thinking, shrugging her shoulders as if it was obvious. He squinted, intrigued that she was allowing herself to say unthoughtful things in front of him, as if she wasn't afraid of the consequences they might bring.

"And your studies? How will you have so much time to come here?"

"From what I understand, I would be expected to turn up on Tuesdays and Thursdays from eight in the morning until sixteen. I have practice classes then, the costumes I'm sewing I can bring with me and finish them while he's eating or watching something, maybe he'll even like it and want to practice with me?"

"What will you do if I don't hire you?" He asked dryly and she looked at him surprised, a light smile on her face indicating that his words didn't worry her.

"Then I will continue to work in the café. But my words about the superhero costume stand. Even if I can't work for you, sir, I would like to meet him and give him something. Children can be so brave." She said softly with sincere, bright joy and some kind of pride, as if Daeron was her brother and not his, something in her innocence, something in her attitude endeared him.

He could smell a lie a mile away, she wouldn't be able to pretend so well even if she were an actress.

These reactions were natural, she was saying exactly what she was thinking about.

"I will contact you once I have made my decision." He said indifferently, getting up from his seat and pointing with his hand towards the exit, suggesting that their conversation was over.

She stood up and smiled, undaunted by his behaviour or the length of their conversation. Both of them flinched when Daeron appeared in the living room, pushing the wheels of his wheelchair with a light flick of his hand.

"Good afternoon. Who is this lady?" His younger brother asked him, obvious curiosity on his face. He swallowed loudly and glanced at her – she answered nothing but waved at him vigorously, Daeron smiled shyly and waved her back, embarrassed.

"No one. I needed to talk to her." He replied, opening the door for her. She said a polite goodbye to him and his brother, waving at him once more, Daeron waved her back again, looking at him with questioning eyes as he closed it.

"I like her. She seems fun."

With no other choice, he decided he would give her a chance.

The first day she was to be left alone with Daeron he was all nerves despite the fact that his little brother hadn't seemed this excited to him in many years. He told him about his toys and the cartoons he was going to show her.

"First the lessons. Then two hours to play and free time." He replied dryly, tense, glancing at his watch, thinking with rage that she only had fifteen minutes left, that she was sure to be late or not come and leave him in the lurch when he had already cancelled his presence at the centre's classes.

They both flinched when they heard the bell ring; Daeron said, moving briskly forward in his wheelchair that he wanted to open for her and indeed, after a moment the girl he had hired appeared on the doorstep of their house, smiling and content – her cheeks flushed again, her dark hair loose, pleasantly framing her bright face, on her body only a black top and tracksuit shorts as it was a sunny, warm spring morning.

"Good morning, Daeron, nice to meet you!" She said with fondness and satisfaction in her voice, extending her hand in front of her, which his brother shook confidently. Daeron moved ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"Come, I'll show you my room. I'll explain everything to you." He said, rolling his wheelchair up to the door, which was located on the ground floor of their house so that he could move around easily. The girl nodded, pulling her trainers off her feet, saying that she will come to him in a minute.

He took the opportunity to walk up to her, towering over her, and she threw him a quick surprised look.

He thought her eyes seemed even bigger than before, he wasn't sure if they were blue or green, both colours blending into one.

"You are to take care of him. I want you to go through all the material that was prepared for today. Only two hours of free time, no more. Behave responsibly and only call if it's really urgent or if something happens to him." He said matter-of-factly, and she swallowed quietly, nodding quickly, clearly horrified by how close he stood and how cold his voice was.

Good, he thought.

He wanted her to be afraid of the consequences of her actions.

He sat in the office all day terrified, stressed and unsure, trying to focus on the file in front of him, while involuntarily still glancing at his phone, checking to see if she might have called him.

Was everything okay? What if something had happened but she was afraid to call him? Maybe he should go home and test her, see what was going on?

He thought he would go mad if he didn't, so he left work an hour early – Alys threw something at him as he walked past her, probably something about a meeting or an evening out together, but he didn't answer her, heading for the stairs and the underground car park.

He drove forward, trying to calm himself down, thinking about how oversensitive he was, that surely everything was fine.

He pulled up in front of their house hearing music in the distance, wondering if any of the neighbours were having a party outside at this hour.

However, as he pressed the key to the gate and it slowly swung open he saw in disbelief the girl he had hired riding with lightness and grace on roller skates in his driveway to the tune of the Scissor Sisters song Don't Feel Like Dancin. Daeron laughed out loud, spinning beside her in his wheelchair, both of them wearing elbow and knee pads, in addition to his little brother wearing a bike helmet on his head.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He got out of the car, furiously slamming the door, his brother wheeled up to him briskly, his companion spinning slowly around them on roller skates – she raised her eyebrows with a smile, seeing the look on his face and waved at him.

"Look how well I dance, brother!" Exclaimed Daeron, spinning the wheels of his wheelchair around his own axis again.

He, however, instead of looking at him grabbed aggressively the arm of his carer who was doing another spin – she nearly fell over because of his tug and caught him abruptly by his jacket in an attempt to catch her balance.

"Ah!"

"What the fuck are you doing? Is this what I pay you for?" He growled and shook her hard. She stared at him with wide-open eyes, her lips slightly parted in accelerated breathing from fear, her face red from exertion, strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks.

"Let me go, sir. I will not speak to you like this." She said warningly, her brow furrowed. He pressed his lips together noticing that something had changed in her gaze, suddenly confident and angry, ready to fight if necessary.

He felt that look in his trousers, he'd never had the urge to slap a woman's ass as hard as hers before.

He glanced at his brother, who was looking at him in horror, only realising after a moment that the song had long since ended and there was a tense, awkward silence around them.

He let go of her arm, seeing with satisfaction that he had left a bruise on her skin in the shape of his fingers – she massaged at the spot, furrowing her brow.

"You're fired. You're irresponsible. Good thing I came back earlier." He said with mockery and fury, walking over to his brother, unbuckling the helmet he wore on his head. Daeron burst into a loud, uncontrollable sob.

"I don't want to. I don't want to, I don't want to go back there, I want to stay with her. It's my fault, I told her I wanted to dance, please, please, please, I want her to stay, I don't want to go back there." He babbled, running his hands over his shoulders in some helpless, childish pleading gesture from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her gaze fixed on his little brother, sad and resigned – she was leaning over, untying the laces of the roller skates that had once belonged to his sister.

"Something could have happened to you. You could have fallen over and hit your head on the ground." He replied coldly, kneeling in front of him, unbuckling his knee pads.

"But I had a helmet on my head. After all, normal boys fall off bikes and stairs and they're fine! Nothing would have happened if I'd bruised myself a bit, I'm not made of glass!" He burst out suddenly with a fury he had never seen in him before, burying his little face in his hands, all red from tears and despair.

"I won't go back there, I won't go there tomorrow, if she doesn't stay, never, never again, I'd rather kill myself!" He whined out loud, falling into another attack of hysteria in recent months – he had trouble catching his breath, his lungs were wheezing all over. He took his face in his hands, but he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at him.

God, why?

"Remember what I told you?" She asked walking up to his brother in just her socks, kneeling beside him, grasping his hand. Daeron immediately fell silent, looking at her with wide eyes.

"That boy who calls you Quasimodo is just mean. You are my Phoebus, you have his beautiful hair, humour and valour. I'll sew us costumes and we'll go to the carnival ball together. His jaw will drop when he sees that you came with your Esmeralda. What do you say?" She asked softly, and he looked at her in disbelief, wondering if that was the reason his little brother didn't want to go there.

That boy who calls you Quasimodo.

He felt a twitch in his throat and swallowed loudly, his brother nodding quickly, drawing in air loudly, his eyes full of hope.

"Promise?" He asked in a trembling voice, and she smiled broadly, sincerely, squeezing his small hand.

"Promise."

They entered their house as his brother calmed down; he told Daeron to go to his room and leave them alone, which his brother eventually did with great reluctance, crying for a while longer, not wanting to say goodbye to her.

As soon as he heard the door close behind him at the end of the corridor he slipped his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers, took out a few banknotes and threw them on the table in front of her in a careless gesture.

"Get the fuck out of my house." He said coldly, looking her straight in the eye. He saw her lower lip twitch, the pain of humiliation in her gaze, her eyebrows arched in disbelief that such words had left his mouth.

He wasn't paying her to make a circus of herself dancing like some fucking Esmeralda, exposing his brother to danger and injury.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and trembled with rage as she took the money and tossed it in his direction, the banknotes flying scattered around his feet.

"You could dress up as Frollo for the carnival ball, sir. It would suit you." She said drily, turning away tensely – he moved behind her, feeling anger buzzing strongly in his veins at her words.

He grabbed her by the neck with an aggressive flick of his hand and slammed her back against the wall, her voice stuck in her throat in horror, her big, bright eyes open wide in disbelief.

He took a step closer to her, feeling her warm body quiver all over in his grasp, digging his fingertips deeper into her skin, finding with delight that she was obscenely soft.

"Do you have anything else to say?" He asked in a low whisper filled with threat – she shook her head quickly clearly feeling the situation was out of her control, obviously fearing if he was really going to do something to her.

"No, are you sure? I'm listening to you. Tell me something else interesting about me." He said softly, encouragingly, moving even closer to her, the tips of their noses almost touching.

He could finally get a good look at her and he found curiously that he still couldn't tell what colour her eyes were, now slightly reddened from tears of fear.

She shook her head quickly, not making a sound; all he could hear was their quickened, raspy breaths, her hand touched his wrist as if she wanted to make sure he didn't strangle her.

He was somehow delighted by how delicate, long and slender her fingers were, feeling a pleasant pulsing in his trousers at the thought.

"Look at you. So silly. Because you're a silly little girl, aren't you? You would benefit from someone teaching you a lesson. No? Then apologise and I'll let you go and pretend I never met you." He said calmly, her whole body quivering with terror.

"Never." She said quietly, and he felt involuntarily that his lips curved in a dangerous, satisfied grin, his fingers clenching tighter around her neck.

"You're asking for trouble, Esmeralda." He muttered lowly, her nostrils twitching in accelerated breath.

"I will report what you are doing to the police." She said dryly and he smiled even wider, feeling her tremble all over as he leaned over her ear, his nose sinking into her soft, flower-scented hair – he closed his eyes and savoured the experience for a moment before whispering something she froze from.

"I am a prosecutor −"

Her hand clenched tighter on his wrist, a moan of despair escaping her lips, as if what he had said had really shocked her, as if she was only now realising what she had gotten herself into.

"− and I've never lost a case yet." He whispered in her ear, sliding his face lower, to her jaw and then to her neck, pressing his full lips to her skin, leaving wet, hot marks on it. He heard her draw in a loud breath.

"− w-what are you doing, sir? − no −" She whimpered, he felt her lift her arms up in a defensive gesture, trying to pull away from him, but he pressed her against the wall with his body, letting go of her neck, his erection throbbing hard in his trousers, pressing again and again against her stomach.

She felt it, a terrified cry escaped her lips as his lips pressed tightly against her neck – he began to suck painfully hard on her skin, wanting to leave her a crimson reminder of himself.

"− how did you put it? − who do I remind you of? −" He asked tauntingly, running his rough tongue over her red skin, feeling the veins pulsing rapidly under her soft, warm skin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry − please, please let me go −" She mumbled out in despair on the verge of crying, her voice trembling all over in terror, her breathing raspy and uneven, her small hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck that he wore under his jacket.

He gasped at her words, sliding his mouth lower, repeating the same process, rubbing against her with his hips – his cock was all swollen and hard, pulsing with pleasure, his hands roaming down her back, sliding at last to her buttocks where they clenched.

"− look at you − so you can be polite after all, hm? −" He asked softly, lowering the material of her tracksuit shorts a little, his large hand grasping her plump, firm buttocks and slapping it hard – she clamped her lips together, trying to hold back the whimper that squeezed its way down her throat.

"− that's what I thought − turn around and let's get this over with −" He murmured, soothingly massaging the place that was now pulsing from his slap, grinning as she did so wordlessly, tears of helplessness and fear on her cheeks.

"− please −" She muttered and he sighed softly, sliding the material of her shorts and underwear down, revealing what was underneath – she shuddered and wept quietly as the tips of his fingers ran over her swollen folds, focusing their pressure on her sweet spot hidden between them, digging into her fleshy skin in circular, calm motions.

"− shhh − this way it will be easier for both of us −" He explained in a soft tone of voice, as if he was telling her something obvious, as if it would benefit her in the future and teach her something.

He heard her shy moan full of fear, then another, a tad louder as his fingers sank more firmly into her skin. He licked his lips at the sight of the wetness that began to leak slowly from inside her and slapped his hand with a short, rough movement into the space between her thighs.

"− quiet −" He ordered, and she pressed her lips together, stifling whatever wanted to come out of them. Daeron was far away, locked in his room, but he still preferred him not to hear anything, and he didn't have the time or desire to take her upstairs to his bedroom.

This situation, her bent figure and her lovely buttocks pushed up towards him, suited him completely.

"− good girl − see? − it's not that hard −" He murmured pleased with how obedient she was despite the fear and terror from which her whole body was twitching. The confident movements of his fingers were accompanied by the louder and louder click of her moisture, her cheek pressed against the cold wall where her hands were helplessly trying to find support in this position, her eyes closed as if she just wanted to wait it out.

She opened them when she heard the sound of his zipper being opened – her lips pressed together with difficulty as he guided the fat, swollen head of his throbbing cock against her opening, leaning with his free hand against the wall just above her head, trying to force it between her tight folds with the motion of his hips.

"− wider − that's it, there you go −" He exhaled as she opened her thighs a little more and he spread her wide on his cock, feeling her muscles gave him a wonderful squeeze – he sighed loudly, surprised at how pleasurable the sensation was.

"− fuck −" He hissed out, clamping his hands on her buttocks, spreading them like a ripe fruit; she squirmed in discomfort as he forced her to take him deeper inside her, filling her so much that he felt like he was going to rip her skin apart.

"− barely fits −" He scoffed, moving his hips back and forth with a splat of her moisture dripping down her thighs – he heard her begin to pant along with him as he deliberately rubbed against her lower wall just above her very entrance, teasing the spot inside her from which her whole body was quivering.

"− here? − do you want me to fuck you here, little one? −" He gasped as he stretched her skin enough to fit all of him inside her, rooting into her again and again with increasingly brutal thrusts of his hips, digging his fingertips into her buttocks, looking at the spot where their bodies joined, at her muscles clenching against him greedily in panic, sucking him inside.

"− please −" She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, her lips parted in disbelief at how pleasurable and terrifying the experience was. He sank his hand into her soft, dark hair and tilted her head back, burying his nose in the hot skin of her cheek, speeding up, stretching her weeping folds with a loud, lewd slaps of his thighs against her buttocks.

"− use full sentences −" He commanded, his other hand from her hip slid down between her thighs – she squirmed helplessly as his fingers sank again into her fleshy skin, sticky from her moisture, teasing her clit with circular, slow motions.

"− here − fuck me here, sir −" She mumbled with difficulty in a voice trembling with exertion, her cheeks all red, the beautiful curls of her dark hair clinging to her sweaty face – he felt with satisfaction that her hips began to respond to his eager thrusts.

"− good girl − that's my good girl −" He breathed out with a quiet groan of pleasure, seeing and feeling her walls squeeze his fat cock at his praise – he licked his lips thinking that Alys had never responded to him the way she did, so frightened and aroused at the same time, relying only on his mercy, his goodwill.

"− you understand that this is necessary, don't you? − that you need to be taught a lesson −" He muttered, feeling that he was losing his temper, thrusting into her so fast that he was barely slipping out of her, slamming into her again and again, his cock throbbing with desire, signalling to him that his peak was coming, her wonderful scent filling his lungs.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm sorry −" She mumbled out –he wasn't sure if she was saying what he wanted to hear or if she really believed it herself for a second, but she clamped her eyelids shut and spread her mouth wide, helpless, girlish, sweet moan of relief burst from her throat as she came, sucking and squeezing his cock, soaking it in her moisture. He sighed in relief when, after a few desperate, deep slaps he spilled inside her, feeling the wave of hot pleasure shake his body.

"− fuck − oh, God, little one −" He muttered, their bodies involuntarily moving for a moment longer, wanting to prolong this surprisingly shocking experience, both of them panting embarrassingly loudly, her body trembling all over – if his arm hadn't been holding her around the waist she would have fallen for sure, her legs completely numb.

He looked down at their joined bodies, his half-hard, throbbing manhood sinking into her again and again, all sticky from his semen and her wetness.

He swallowed loudly, sliding out of her slowly, realising now what he had actually done to her – he heard her quiet hiss of discomfort and sigh of relief, her face flushed from exertion and tears.

"− are you all right? −" He asked in a trembling voice, quickly zipping up his trousers, her shaking hands slipping her underwear and shorts back onto her buttocks.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled in embarrassment, horror and disbelief, not looking at him, in some automatic gesture reaching for her trainers, putting them quickly on her feet.

"Come back on Thursday as we agreed before." He muttered, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart and the panic rising inside him, a complete void in his mind.

What had he done?

"I can assure you that you will never see me again." She whispered in a trembling, broken voice, quickly put her backpack on her back and walked out, slamming the door, leaving him with complete silence, remorse and horror.

He pressed his forehead against the wall, hiding his face in his hands, and burst into tears like a small child.

How could he treat a strange, innocent girl like this?

What if she didn't take her pills, what if she got pregnant?

How could he have been so irresponsible?

What if she really does report it to the police?

I'll destroy her, he thought with a bitter certainty that, after a moment, turned again into terror, regret and shame.

He grabbed his phone quickly and dialled her number, wanting to beg her forgiveness, but she didn't answer. He sat down on the couch and drew in the air loudly, devastated, not recognising himself, realising what kind of man he was.

He laughed desperately, shaking his head, thinking with painful amusement how well she had judged him.

He didn't even have to pretend.

He was like Frollo.

_____

Author's note: Many of you may believe that Quasimodo is the best and most worthy of imitation character, not Phoebus, and this is true when it comes to the book, but I assume that if anything, Daeron at this age has only seen a Disney fairy tale, in which Phoebus is a handsome man with a noble heart. The whole idea of this scene, in which the heroine says that he will be her Phoebus and she will be his Esmeralda, is that Daeron wants to see himself not only as a person with a disability, but as someone handsome, a warrior that a woman could love one day. It's easy to understand how children's minds work and why his works this way, and his "Esmeralda" only wants to help him become the person he wants to be and encourages him not to give up on these dreams and this self-image.

_____

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writinground2 · 7 months

Text

The Past Doesn't Always Stay in the Past

Leah Williamson - Reader

Based off a prompt for Angsty Leah. Y/N's past resurfaces. Slight trigger warning for very mention of abuse, nothing detailed.

Leah’s eye kept darting to the door, their film session having started 20 minutes ago, and Y/N had yet to arrive. Y/N had abruptly left the lunchroom, and no one had seen her since.

Finally, 10 minutes later, Y/N settled herself in the open seat next to Leah. The blonde rolled her seat until the arm rests bumped Y/N’s. She rested her hand on Y/N’s knee where it bounced anxiously. The motion caused Y/N to jerk her leg away, slamming it harshly against the table while she pushed herself further away from Leah. The defender withdrew her hand quickly, hovering it in the air in surrender.

Y/N mumbled apologies to the room as everyone looked back at them, shrinking herself as much as she could into her chair. Jonas quickly called attention back to the front of the room, continuing his film session.

Leah did her best to focus on what Jonas was talking about, but her eyes continued to stray back over to her girlfriend next to her. Y/N’s eyes were staring forward, but it was obvious she wasn’t paying attention to anything being said, nibbling absentmindedly over her thumb, both legs bouncing again. Occasionally her eyebrows would knit together, and her jaw would clench, whatever thoughts going through her mind not being good ones.

The blonde gently tapped the table next to Y/N’s arm, doing her best not to startle her again. The meeting finished and everyone left, but Y/N hadn’t made any motion that she knew that. Y/N’s eyes rapidly blinked while she came back to focus, looking around the room to see everyone gone.

“Hey,” Leah spoke softly, hoping to avoid startling the younger woman.

“Hey.”

Leah could see the woman working to put up her defences, preparing to defend that she was alright before the blonde could ask how she was.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

Y/N breathed out in relief at not having to confront anything yet. Nodding, she followed the blonde out of the room.

Leah consciously gave Y/N her space as they walked, pointedly keeping herself slightly in front of her, making sure Y/N could see all her movements. Glancing behind her to make sure Y/N was following, she could see the way Y/N’s eyes seemed to dart everywhere, stumbling into the blondes back when a door shut loudly from behind them.

Y/N nibbled on her thumb again as she stared out the window on the drive home. Leah tucked the hand not on the wheel under her thigh to avoid reaching over to Y/N.

Leaving her kit bag in the backseat, Y/N darted from the car and to the house before Leah could even get the car into park.

Hearing the shower running when she walked in, she made her way to the laundry to drop off both bags. She worked on emptying them in the wash, tossing a few other items in to fill the load.

Absently wandering the house, working to keep herself busy while she waited for Y/N to finish.

Leah sat the kitchen island picking at a bowl of berries when Y/N made her way in. She forced herself to keep her eyes on Y/N’s face and not scan her body like she wanted to.

“Umm, a lawyer called me today,” Y/N bit her lip while she shuffled in place.

Leah nodded, encouraging Y/N to continue.

“I have to go to court next week. He, uh, he, Rick might get parole,” she furrowed her brows, bringing her thumb back to her mouth, ripping the abused skin off, “good behaviour or some shit.”

The was the closest to emotion Leah had seen from Y/N since she entered the meeting room hours earlier.

“He was supposed to have 10 years! It’s only been six! And because he was a good little boy, he gets to get out early? It’s fucked!”

Y/N started to pace the kitchen.

“Found God or some fucking bullshit. She didn’t even get any time and now he gets out early? It’s fucked up. And I have to fucking see both of them!”

Her voice grew louder the more she spoke.

“So, I have to go be the same scared little girl I was six years ago. I need to see both those monsters again! Because if I don’t, he’ll get out.”

Leah wished there was something she could do. There was nothing she could say to make Y/N feel better. She wanted to pull Y/N in her arms and tell her nothing bad would happen but knew that would be a lie. Y/N wasn’t in a place to be touched right now, the blonde had learned that the first time Y/N had spoken about her past and had a panic attack when the blonde tried to hug her.

Y/N had told Leah of her past before they started dating. Some rude rookie wouldn’t stop questioning Y/N about the odd shaped scars on her back. Leah harshly told the rookie to mind her own business she brought it up again on a night out.

Cigarettes Y/N mumbled to the blonde when the rookie finally walked away. Cigars if he was in a good mood, she said it so casually the blonde almost thought she was kidding, but seeing her face, she knew Y/N wasn’t.

When Leah sat gapping like a fish, Y/N just said she had it a little rough growing up and left it at that.

A week later, Leah snapped at the rookie again when she commented to the team that it was weird Y/N never changed in front of the group, always choosing to change in a bathroom stall. Leah had hoped Y/N hadn’t heard, but unfortunately, she walked out as the rookie rushed out properly scorned.

She had found Y/N leaned against the hood of her car when she went to leave. The younger girl just saying she owed the woman an explanation to the person always coming to her defence.

That night, Y/N explained everything. How she had grown up in the foster system, some houses were good, most weren’t. The last ‘family’ being Rick and Sheryl; a be seen and not heard type of house. That being seen meant being punished. She laughed that Rick claimed he struggled with his anger, but the reality was that Rick loved the fear in the kids’ eyes as he stood over them. But what he loved even more, was Y/N begging him to take it out on her instead. Sheryl pretended she didn’t know what Rick did, but really, she was just too drunk to notice.

She told Leah how it ended when she had collapsed at a football practice. The doctors had seen the bruises in varying states of healing along with the crudely bandaged laceration on her hip where Rick’s belt buckle had struck.

Y/N flinched when Leah unconsciously reached out to touch it.

Everything moved quickly after that. The kids were removed and placed in different homes. Y/N was left on her own, petitioning for emancipation. She was awarded that, along with a large settlement from the system for the years of abuse she had attempted to report countless times. After a whirlwind of meetings and court appearances and trials, Rick was in prison, Sheryl was given a fine and Y/N was left on her own.

It felt like overnight, but now she was 22 playing professional football, dating a fellow footballer, and doing well. All for It to seemingly come crashing down by a phone call.

“It was supposed to be ten years until possible parole, not six! They were just kids, fucking kids!”

“You were just a kid too,” Leah whispered, heart clenching when she realized Y/N still prioritized how the other kids had been treated over herself.

“I was just a kid,” Y/N finally broke down completely, collapsing against the wall and sliding to the floor, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees, “I was just a kid,” she whispered helplessly.

Leah quickly made her way next to Y/N, sitting next to her, but keeping space between them. Only moving to wrap her arms around Y/N when she said it was alright.

They stayed on the floor for hours. Y/N soaking the chest of Leah’s t-shirt where her face was pressed. Leah didn’t offer any empty platitudes, only rubbing her hand soothingly up and down Y/N’s back. She only encouraged her to move when she recognized Y/N beginning to drift off against her.

Leah gently tugged her to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth, promising she would feel just slightly better after performing both actions.

Once in bed, she stayed on her back, waiting for Y/N to decide on her own if she wanted to cuddle into her side or not. Y/N didn’t hesitate before settling herself into Leah’s side.

“Do you want to say anything to the team?”

“They would want to be there for you,” she tried to encourage when she felt Y/N adamantly shake her head no.

Leah sighed. It was a lot for Y/N to take on without much support.

The next day, Y/N apologized to Jonas for her behaviour the day before, telling him she was going through something personal and requested to miss training the next week for court.

Leah discreetly made her way to the manager’s office, requesting the day off as well. Refusing to let Y/N handle the experience on her own again.

Y/N did her best to focus on the team for the rest of the week, putting in extra time on the pitch and the weight room. She was quiet and withdrawn, Leah was quick to shoo anyone away who asked too many questions, she didn’t care if she seemed like a chihuahua barking at nothing, she wasn’t letting anything further upset Y/N.

The parole hearing came too soon for Y/N. She wanted it over with, but she wasn’t ready to see either of the people again, she never would.

“Go to training Leah,” Y/N told the blonde when she realized she was pulling on dress pants instead of track pants, "you are not coming with me.”

“You’re not doing this alone.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you aren’t.”

They stared each other down, neither willing to back down.

“Those people took everything from me when I was younger, they will not take anything from me now. You will not be anywhere near those people,” Y/N growled out, “you are staying here.”

Leah refused to back down, “you had to do everything alone last time, you don’t need to do it alone this time.”

“I don’t care about me or being alone, I care about them seeing you. That man got off hearing me talk about it during trial, if he sees you with me,” she trailed off, “you are not coming, end of discussion.”

“You do not make decisions for me!” Leah took a breath to settle herself, she wasn’t trying to fight or make this day worse for Y/N, “I’ll wait in the car.”

Y/N shook her head, “I’m not fighting you on this Leah.”

Leah wanted to argue that waiting in the car shouldn’t be a problem, but ultimately offered a small nod, switching her dress pants for her joggers.

“Thank you.”

“Call me, as soon as it’s done,” she hugged Y/N as tight as possible before slipping out the door.

Sheryl looked older than someone her age should look. Y/N smiled to herself, good, she thought bitterly. The older woman perked up in her seat when the door opened, and Rick was led out in shackles and a body belt. He too looked far too aged; prison had not been kind to him.

She felt his eyes combing her body as he was shuffled to his spot, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of looking at him.

Parole Denied

The words continued to ring her mind only an hour later. The decision was made almost immediately after she spoke and described who the man was and what he was capable of, that he repeatedly attempted to contact her.

Sheryl had been carried from the room when she attempted to run to her husband. But Rick’s eyes stayed focused on Y/N, she ignored him while she smoothly made her way out, not giving him a hint that she was uncomfortable.

She waited until she was safely in her car to let out a shuddering breath. No tears fell though. She didn’t even realize she was shaking until she tried to enter the combo to her phone.

Leah answered on the first ring, puffing out a breath, clear she had sprinted to get her phone from the staff holding it during training.

“Parole denied,” she spoke before the blonde could say anything.

“Oh, thank god.”

“Because he lost this one, he forfeited his chance at 10 years, he has to do the whole 10 years.”

“That’s amazing Y/N! How are you doing?”

“I don’t even know if I have words for it right now. I’m so happy. But I hate that it’s all brought back up.”

“Just come home to me, darling.”

Y/N felt like she could breathe for the first time in days. She had won. She would be leaving here and going home to someone who was gentle with her and loved her.

Leah had all but begged Jonas to let her leave training as soon as the call disconnected, needing to be home for when Y/N would be there.

The blonde was ready for Y/N as soon as she came through the door, letting her collapse into her before the front door shut. Leah kicked a leg out to shut the door while her arms held Y/N tight against her. Y/N shuddered and allowed Leah to guide them to lay on the couch.

“You should be so proud of yourself,” Leah spoke softly.

Y/N trembled and shook her head against Leah’s chest, not wanting to hear any other soft words. Leah nodded, understand she didn’t need to say anything, simply running a finger single up and down Y/N’s spine.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine

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be-missed · 1 month

Text

Find You Again (Drabble)

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

(pictures not mine)

Summary: Four months post-breakup, Y/N "swiftly" moved on, entangled with a rising singer. Jenna, still raw from their shattered romance, covertly attended Y/N's performance at Coachella Valley Music. The echo of Y/N's new song sliced through her soul like a knife, reigniting her heartbreak with an unbearable intensity.

Warnings: curse words, notify me if there are any

A/N: This is a backstory. A new song released by Wendy, so listen to it if you can!

Song: His Car Isn't Yours // WENDY

Masterlist

_____________________________________________________________

"Do you wanna go around to get some food?" Mia asked Jenna, obviously trying to get her away from the stage where Y/N will perform in a few. The both of you planned this; You will perform your first ever stage in Coachella while she watch you. But it turns out that the world has other plans for the both of you.

You broke up with each other four months ago, but you are now dating a rising singer for two months. It fucking hurt, really. It hurt Jenna so deep. She never heard from you after you dropped off her things in her house and she went away to do filming.

"No, uhm, you go ahead, I'm not really hungry" Jenna smiled timidly to her sister. Mia nodded and leaves Jenna alone at their spot, near enough to watch you clearly, but far enough to not be seen.

Five minutes later, the crowd are cheering for your opening song. Jenna was watching you sing, reminiscing those days where the both of you were in a studio and she was the only person that gets to hear your masterpiece. She wants to gatekeep you actually, she doesn't want anyone thinking that they wanted to be yours. Because you are only hers and she's only for you.

She remembers how she drives to your house, picking you up, driving fast in the highway and driving slow through the suburbs. She remembers how you were always waiting up in your driveway waiting for her car to park in front so that you can greet her. Jenna sometimes parks her car on the other side of the street just to surprise you, but hell she wonders how you still noticed where she is parked.

A tear fell from her eyes, she wiped it up fast, not wanting to be seen. She hates herself right now, she hates how she is so hung up on you while you were out there dating some dude. Jenna thought to herself, "Did some force take you because I didn't pray?" because if it did, right here, right now, she'll be on her knees begging that things aren't real and she's just dreaming.

Your voice break her thoughts when you said "So this song is for someone... that has been a part of my life. A big part actually." You bitterly smiled, Jenna saw the camera focused on you, it didn't go unnoticed that you were actually finding someone in the crowd. You continue to speak "So uhm, if you are ever here, this is for you."

Jenna is nervous, because it's either you sing a song about that dude or your gonna sing about her. But she doesn't want to get her hopes high, so she did some breathing exercises to ground herself when the intro of the song started.

You start singing the song, it was... a sad one. A song that is actually about you and her. The moon is taking over the sun making the venue a tad bit darker, making the fans lit up the flashlights on their phone.

You moved to the center of the stage, closer to the people that are watching you. Scanning every possible face that your low resolution eyes can see. Trying so hard to find Jenna, because she promised. She promised she'll watch your first performance in Coachella.

Am I supposed to find someone

Makes me feel how I felt?

I'm trying think it's time that

I try again with someone new

The stream of tears on Jenna's face is now continuous, no matter how hard she tried to stop herself, she just couldn't. No one knew the relationship that you two had, no one knew that the two of you are connected. The both of you are rising stars in each track that you take, but the both of you are still not famous enough to break the internet with some dating rumors.

Now it's eight o'clock and I'm waiting on

This good guy to come pick me up

I just wanna have a good night

He's pulling up, oh my God, I see the headlights

And he opens my door but his car isn't yours

It's not you anymore in my driveway

It isn't you drivers seat on the highway

It isn't you on your way every Friday

And I hate that it hurts that his car isn't yours, yeah

But that car isn't yours

No, his car isn't yours

Yeah

The bridge hit every part of Jenna's heart that screams your name, which absolutely every part of her entire being. After your break up, she just drive past your house just to see if you are awake, to see if your dining room light is on, or just to see you in your driveway waiting for her.

Now it's 2 AM, he just dropped me off

Asked if he could come in, I told him maybe not

Then he asked what he did, I said that nothing's wrong

It wasn't your car

The song ended in a sad beat with you thanking everybody on your team, the festival, and the audience that watched you. Sad to say, you ended your set with a broken heart. You were happy, of course, being able to perform on a big music festival with a lot of people that can support you and listen to your music. But Jenna wasn't there, you didn't see Jenna standing on her spot, rooted there like she was planted.

But that car isn't yours

No, his car isn't yours, mmm-mmm

Eh-yeah, mmm, yeah

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A/N: Chapter 3 is not still finished but here is a drabble for Find You Again. If you have any drabble ideas for Find You Again, just send it! Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #fanfic #fiction #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter x reader #findyouagain #wednesday x you #jenna marie ortega #wendy #red velvet #wendy red velvet

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venussaidso · 3 months

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𝗞𝗲𝘁𝘂 𝗗𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀 — 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (part 1) 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟎

disclaimer: spoilers for all movies or shows mentioned.

the warnings: mentions of drug abuse, sexual violence, self-harm, genocide, mental disorders/illnesses, cannibalism and self amputation.

The most interesting theme within all the Ketu nakshatras was one that was unexpected, as it is common to mainly associate Ketu with concepts of disconnection or isolation from society as a whole -- since Ketu is often linked with the 12H. But it is more about the interactions with the unseen forces within society more than anything. Because the 12H also represents the collective's consciousness and all the interconnected energies that come with that which Ketu becomes possessed by. And it is Ashwini that is the most sensitive Ketu nakshatra, as it easily becomes consumed & absorbed by these 12H energies which often leads to chaos and loneliness.

Ashwini nakshatra embodies Nothingness which is the oldest energy in the universe. It's between a space before actualized creation, and after the rise of awareness that's emerged from Nothingness (or the Cosmic Void). It is very fitting that this is the first nakshatra; but it should also be considered the last as it essentially represents the non-duality of Life & Death. This theme is further extended in Bharani and beautifully explored in that nakshatra, but in Ashwini we focus on the spirit's evolution. The energy found in this nakshatra is as undeveloped as it is chaotic, which is why evolution needs to take place -- and this usually involves extreme harsh forces to tame it. It is in Ashwini where there's confusion or lack of self-awareness of one's own identity as energies here become repressed, unconsciously accumulating. I'm going to use some films as examples to explore this point.

First, I'm going to use the most typical Ketu-coded character. Ashwini Moon Christian Bale's Patrick Bateman in "American Psycho". This film follows an investment banker who relishes in the wealthy excesses of his superficial lifestyle in which everybody else around him also revels in. His life is empty, mostly revolving around getting into exclusive restaurants, wallowing in designer suits, having a meticulous morning routine etc. There's a pressure in general for conformity and Ashwini is sensitive to these energies which they take up, driving them to compete and also go too far with this -- because it's no longer about conforming anymore. It's become an obsession, and these pressures drive Patrick Bateman into homicidal tendencies as an outlet. This film perfectly encapsulates modern-day consumerisms, and it is of course an Ashwini native who is driven into a descent of madness from this empty, superficial culture he's subjected to.

Nothing can fill up the emptiness inside of him and he knows that. This crippling, painful understanding is what continuously manifests his violent self-hatred and hatred towards others. And this is why he is forever trapped in a cycle of loneliness, as he is surrounded by the same narcissistic, self-absorbed suits who will continue to maintain this soulless, superficial culture.

The movie was adapted from the book with the same name, written by Mula Moon Bret Easton Ellis whose own experiences inspired the book "American Psycho".

Quote from an interview; OregonLive (2010);

"[Patrick Bateman] did not come out of me sitting down and wanting to write a grand sweeping indictment of yuppie culture. It initiated because my own isolation and alienation at a point in my life. I was living like Patrick Bateman. I was slipping into a consumerist kind of void that was supposed to give me confidence and make me feel good about myself but just made me feel worse and worse and worse about myself. That is where the tension of 'American Psycho' came from... It came from a much more personal place."

-- Mula Moon Bret Easton Ellis

Now, onto the movie "Fight Club", which was directed by Magha Sun David Fincher, and stars Magha Sun Edward Norton and Mula Sun Brad Pitt.

The most highlighted character from this film, played by Brad Pitt, is Tyler Durden, who plans on making a revolution to destroy the hyper-capitalistic, materialistic superficial culture that we saw destroy Patrick Bateman from the inside in "American Psycho".

(video - 🎧)

Of course, just like Ashwini Moon Patrick Bateman took his obsessive consumerism too far; Mula Sun Tyler Durden lays on the opposite spectrum -- aiming to destroy modern society by blowing up all credit card companies and ruining the world's economy. Mula is related to destruction as it is ruled by Nirriti, the goddess of destruction. The oppressive forces that weigh on this Mula character, Tyler Durden, causes him into a spiral for freedom (9H), using extremities and acts of terrorism to be rid of ego/society. Whereas Ashwini, having no solid identity and just being undeveloped in nature, is more likely to conform; but so long as Ketu is there, there will always be an emptiness in the ambitious pursuit of things. Ashwini can grant excess wealth and fame, but with no inner fulfillment or balance, you see characters like Patrick Bateman. Or Daniel Plainview from "There Will Be Blood".

A movie directed by Paul Thomas Anderson who has Ketu in Magha, and stars Ashwini Moon, Mula Ascendant Daniel Day Lewis who portrays Daniel Plainview. Plainview is more Ashwini, as he is an extremely ambitious, capitalistic and competitive oilman.

His pursuit for wealth and power leads him to personal loneliness, isolation and emptiness -- we see how Ketuvians become so drained and eaten alive by the energies they absorb in the pursuit of things. Similarly to Patrick Bateman, he not only hates others but himself and wishes for no one to succeed in life.

(click on the gif(s) if they're buffering lmao, i swear they're cheap)

His primal competitiveness and self-loathing even drives away his only family -- his only child. His adult son means to do his own oilrig business and cuts his partnership with him. But Plainview's unchecked ambition shows that even after attaining success and power, he literally goes ahead to disown his own son as he considers him competition now. And now he extends the same hatred he has for others to him. Further isolating himself; this validating his deep sense of loneliness that was always there with his self-loathing.

The film ends in an Ashwini fashion; in which Plainview goes into a psychotic meltdown and murders someone who he has had a long stewing hatred for.

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

youtube

I wanted to provide a brilliant video from the YouTuber "The Vile Eye", who explored the dark nature of this character; because it perfectly illustrates Ashwini nakshatra in a twisted way -- especially in how Aries in this segment is influenced by Ketu forces. Everything about this character is every Aries stereotype you can think of from the top of your head, but Ketu exaggerates it to the point of extremity and tragedy.

youtube

Amazing video for anyone who wants to understand Ashwini at its extreme which can manifest in real life of course.

Now in the series "Peaky Blinders", which I quickly wanted to mention, stars Ashwini Moon Cillian Murphy whose character faces moral dilemmas, as his relentless pursuit of power contributes to his moral ambiguity.

His ruthless ambition to become the most powerful in the criminal underworld is something I couldn't help but relate it back to Ashwini's drive & competitiveness.

The movie "Scarface" stars Ashwini Sun Al Pacino who plays Tony Montana. And fun fact, Tony Montana is loosely based and inspired by the real-life figure, Al Capone, who was literally a goddamn Ashwini Moon. So, I say Scarface is a fucking Ashwini movie.

Both Tony Montana and Al Capone had unchecked ambitions and an unrelenting desire for power. In Ashwini, extreme power can be attained, and we saw how Tony Montana quickly rose to it (as Ashwini is the Star of Transport and it is associated with Shidhra Vyapani Shakti which translates to 'The Power to Quickly Reach Things'). Similarly, Al Capone was also driven by the desire for power and he attained it.

Like Daniel Plainview in "There Will Be Blood", Tony Montana starts to experience isolation after all of his achievements. His chaotic behaviour contributes to his alienation, and he starts to feel intensifying loneliness, which seems to be a theme with this nakshatra. And this film also ends in Ashwini fashion; with absolute chaos, the psychotic unraveling of Tony and of course death.

I wanted to also add in the movie "Nightcrawler" which stars Mula Sun Jake Gyllenhaal who plays a character willing to go to the extreme lengths for success and personal achievement, to the point of exploiting others and not giving two fucks about ethical boundaries.

He has a distorted view of success and has an unchecked, ruthless ambition which is common in Ketu nakshatras. He is also a socially isolated character, behaving inappropriately as he is disconnected from social norms. He lacks zero empathy. In his obsessive & relentless pursuit of success, he is devoid of humanity. Had to mention this film because these themes are not exclusive to Ashwini.

But as I did mention, Mula is more likely to be aware of societal pressures and these natives often feel deeply disturbed by them -- while Ashwini is more focused on the Self, as it's ruled by the 1H. In the film "Falling Down", Mula Moon Michael Douglas plays a character who has become disillusioned and is now aware of the pressures and oppression caused by the modern-day life. This movie is literally directed by Magha Sun Joel Schumacher.

He confronts many issues such as homelessness and crime, which are heavily rooted in the greedy, capitalistic system of modern society. But he becomes violent and chaotic himself, going into a descent to madness (from absorbing the energies felt by the collective who also feel the weight of these oppressive forces within society). This movie deals with the consequences of unchecked rage, a theme shared in all Ketu nakshatras.

The film "Taxi Driver", which stars Magha Sun Robert De Niro and is directed by Magha Ascendant Martin Scorsese, depicts a man who suffers from extreme loneliness, alienation from society, and struggles with existential crisis. The film explores social decay; such as social disparities, the disillusionment of our main character to society's ills, crime, poverty etc. He goes into a descent into vigilantism, using violence as a catharsis which is a common thing for these Ketu nakshatras (mainly Magha and Mula as it looks at societal frustrations and the emptiness in life/modern culture).

The character also suffers from a possible case of untreated mental illness, and insomnia -- and this seems to be a theme with all Ketu nakshatras in general.

Another film where the main character suffers from extreme insomnia is "The Machinist", starring Ashwini Moon Christian Bale whose character's insomnia and untreated mental illness literally contribute to his isolation and alienation.

will be coming back to this film in my part 2 post

And the film "Fight Club", in which Magha Sun Edward Norton plays an insomniac character who has dissociative identity disorder. And his split personality is interestingly played by Mula Sun Brad Pitt.

Then we have the film "Insomnia", directed by Ketu in Magha Christopher Nolan, starring Ashwini Sun Al Pacino who plays an insomniac detective who faces some mental challenges.

There is a spiritual belief about insomnia, which suggests that there may be a disturbance in one's spirit; unresolved issues that have been long suppressed can be linked to an imbalance of energy within the body. This causes restlessness and more mental problems. This could make sense as Ketu and the 12H deal with what is unconscious -- and how that tends to be our deep, rooted traumas and the way in which they affect us & those around us. And not just traumas, could just be repression of one's own internal suffering from either loneliness or external pressures. We see this with Patrick Bateman, whose only outlet is literal murder, or Tyler Durden's 'revolutionary' fight club causing more destruction around him as planned. Both characters violently act out from these unaddressed decaying energies within themselves and from within society.

The series "Sharp Objects", directed by Magha Moon Jean-Marc Vallé, mostly deals with family traumas, but also shows how those traumas and unresolved energies literally cause death and chaos around them.

Camille Preaker, who is played by Magha Sun Amy Adams, is deeply traumatized and troubled. She has a history of self-harm and has many scars on her body; her self-destructive behaviour is a coping mechanism for what happened when she was young (sexual violence by a group of boys and witnessing the slow, painful and preventative death of her sister). Then we have her younger half-sister Amma, played by Magha Moon Eliza Scanlen, who has a hidden dark side that has been shaped by the family's troubled history and generational trauma. By the end of the series, we find out that Amma is the killer of the violent murders that have shocked the townspeople of Wind Gap. It is Amma who is responsible for all of the gruesome deaths of the girls whose teeth were removed. As Camille's coping mechanism is cutting herself as self-punishment for all the guilt she harbours from the death of her sister, Amma literally commits homicidal acts. All of this connecting to just how messed up, and complex, their trauma and the community they grew up in is. And then we have their mother, played by Mula Moon Patricia Clarkson, who has Munchausen syndrome and is responsible for the death of her oldest daughter. Camille was a witness to her sister's suffering and death, and she sees her mother as a monster and now her little sister is an extension of her. This series is such a good example of how our own personal unchecked traumas affect others, especially those who aren't involved. And how much destruction can be caused, as we see with Amma killing other girls as an 'outlet'. This is why I now realize how wrong I was about Ketu, as Ketu is not necessarily about isolating from society. Regarding society, Ketu will be the complex yet intricate unaddressed/rotting energies within society, and it always relates back to individuals' personal generational traumas. It makes sense that Magha relates to ancestry roots and origins of oneself, even the origins of one's trauma.

Now onto the film "Nocturnal Animals", which is directed by Magha Sun Tom Ford, stars Magha Sun Amy Adams and Mula Sun Jake Gyllenhaal.

Amy Adams plays Susan who is a successful art gallery owner. She receives a manuscript for a novel called Nocturnal Animals sent to her by her ex-husband Edward who's played by Jake Gyllenhaal. The book is extremely violent & tragic; but it actually turns out to be a symbolic reflection of their relationship and marriage. Bringing in the Ketu themes of unresolved trauma and getting to the roots of it (Mula theme). This book serves to make Susan confront how much of her actions fucked him up. The movie focuses on the confronting of one's past, telling of how trauma will still continue to shape the lives of those involved. And the movie shows that even Susan still has unresolved issues just by her repulsed reactions to extreme parts of the novel.

The movies "Split" and "Glass", stars two Ashwini Suns, Anya Taylor Joy and James McAvoy. McAvoy's character, Kevin, has dissociative personality disorder and these different personalities exist to keep him safe. His trauma is so extreme and deeply painful that it manifested into the creation of The Beast, the most dangerous and superhuman personality. Three kidnapped girls are prey to The Beast as they end up being devoured by it but there is only one doesn't fall victim to him -- and that's Anya Taylor Joy's character Casey.

The reason why she doesn't fall victim is because she, too, has suffered extreme trauma and her resilience through it is what creates an immediate connection with Kevin. It is when The Beast sees her scars that he calls her pure, implying that those who have been damaged are the ones who are truly evolved.

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

youtube

Also, "Split" is another example of how deeply repressed energies and traumas of one can ruin everything around them and victimize those close to the Ketuvians (usually uninvolved people's lives being violently taken; "Split", "Sharp Objects", "American Psycho", "Falling Down" etc.).

Ashwini Moon Zendaya in the series "Euphoria" plays a character, Rue, who has been through a significant amount of trauma, including the passing of her father. She uses self-destructive ways to cope with her deep emotional pain and grief, very similarly to Magha Sun Amy Adams's character in "Sharp Objects". Rue uses drugs to numb herself from her harsh realities. There is a moment in the series in which she has a chaotic meltdown.

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

youtube

Something I now understand with Ashwini is how explosive, volatile and scary its ungrounded energy can be -- exactly why I'd commonly associate it with hysterical meltdowns which can lead to accidental or unplanned homicidal acts or other forms of harm/self-harm. This scene of Rue is vaguely taking me back to Ashwini Moon Christian Bale's spiraling and meltdowns in "American Psycho".

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

youtube

Ketu, especially with Magha, seems to cause erratic behaviours when its natives aren't purified of their long-accumulated baggage in their unconsciousness -- exactly why the 8H is also ruled by Ketu as Scorpio shares this particular theme. As long as there is deep disturbance and imbalance in the body, there is no rest for the soul -- even for future incarnations to come.

But now, I want to touch on the senseless harshness of Ketu. Remember, this energy embodies the eternal sucking void. Mula nakshatra relates to the center of the cosmic void and goes straight into the roots of it. Ashwini has already risen from it, while Mula is centering itself back into it. Mula is where we seek an awakening to the truth of what is behind reality. What is on the other side of the cosmic void? Truth is searched in Mula, but it seems that it is Ashwini that understands that chaos is the absolute truth of reality. There is no meaning to anything, which sounds nihilistic, but it is what makes life beautiful.

In the film "The Pianist", written & directed by Magha Sun Roman Polanski, starring Ashwini Sun Adrien Brody, starts out quite warm with a well-put together family and a handsome talented Ashwini man who dreams of being a pianist. But things take a drastic turn. We see a once bright-eyed boy turn into the shell of the person he once was after going through such harrowing events, and things just keep getting tragically worse and worse until there is not even a sliver of hope anymore. The majority of the film is literally just despair, senseless cruelty, and the protagonist's soul slowly becoming annihilated.

I've never watched a film more Ketuvian than this; surrounded by genocide, death and being completely isolated while being eaten by one's own lonely misery.

One moment you think one character is going to make it out alive somehow because they have the conviction and drive to survive, but the film immediately takes that idea away as they helplessly die. You think the protagonist is going to see some light, and the film even makes you slightly comfortable in some moments given the harsh realities, but you witness just how everything remains tragic. There are no answers to any prayers, as suffering is just ongoing. This tonality creates another layer of feeling trapped, and you watch as the character just lets life do whatever it wants to him as he is trapped in a world where he is helpless anyway. With Ketu, you realize that there was never any security or answers to this senseless chaos in this world to begin with.

But his survival at the end makes you question why he even went through all of that. There was no lesson to be taken from such a tragic, horrifying experience. Why did his other friends and family die but not him? In the end, he became a successful pianist as he dreamt of from the beginning. He was exceptionally talented from the start; these events took everything away from him except his passion for the piano. What he went through was senseless, as Ketu has no prime motivation. Saturn will push you through the worst so that you can reach a level where you can now attain all of your reaped rewards, Ketu doesn't care for what you get in the end -- that's Rahu's objective, as Rahu deals with ego; Ketu deals with the evolution of one's soul and that usually involves its annihilation.

The kdrama "Save Me", stars three Ketu natives; Magha Moon Seo Yea-ji, Mula Moon Woo Do-hwan and Mula Sun Ok Taec-yeon. It follows Seo Yeah-ji's character, Sang-mi, and her family after moving into a new town. They become influenced and entangled by a religious cult. Sang-mi becomes aware of just how oppressive and dangerous the cult is when she & her family literally lose all control to them. Sang-mi's attempts to escape become futile, as she remains trapped under the oppressive abuse of the cult, turning her more into a shell of the person she once was.

(The Mula male characters are the ones who find out about the Magha girl's whereabouts, and they plan to save her and her family from the clutches of the cult.)

She witnesses extremely harrowing events, and the drama makes you feel the sense of hopelessness that she's feeling -- trapped and completely helpless no matter how much she tries to save herself and family. There is a similar sense of hopelessness and lose of one's own identity found in "The Pianist", but in this drama it's more about extreme involuntary isolation from society (which I will be expanding on in part 2 of this exploration).

The film "Society of the Snow" is literally directed by Ashwini Moon J.A. Bayona, based on real life events. There's a documentary based on these events as well, "Stranded: I've Come From A Plane That Crashed On The Mountains", directed by Magha Moon Gonzalo Arijon.

Now, in the "Society of the Snow", there is a tone of hopelessness set in the film because of the gruesome reality that these characters (based on real life people) experience. And never in their lifetime did they think that everything was going to change so drastically from just living the average life of normal teenage boys. These characters, who were in a rugby team, get on a plane that would soon crash onto glacier surrounded by endless cold harsh mountains -- with just a piece of the wrecked plane remaining in which they take shelter in. The protagonists are surrounded by the dead bodies of friends who did not survive the crash, and now they must spend the first night in harsh coldness while many are severely injured. They couldn't even sleep, the first night being spent with many of them crying and wailing out loud, nearly freezing to death. One day after, a rescue helicopter searches for them, and they all scream out for help. But the helicopter misses them as they're barely noticeable under all the glacier that surrounds them. This is when the sense of hopelessness and despair kicks in and intensifies as the story progresses. Now that chances of being rescued have completely fallen to zero, they realize that they can't ignore their growing hunger anymore. They all have no choice but to eat the flesh of the dead bodies after running out of chocolates. We see how these decisions mentally challenge some of the characters. It is truly tragic as they were stranded, isolated from the world and completely in despair in every waking day, for a span of 72 days.

After being rescued, we see just how malnourished they were from the looks of their bodies. They come back home bone-skinny and weak. And the monologue in the ending scene tells us how the survivors wondered; "Why didn't we all get to come back [home]?" "What is the meaning of it all?" These are the questions asked when we observe these raw Ketu events.

Ashwini Moon J.A. Bayona also made the film "The Impossible", which is about survival and resilience -- based on real life events. Much like "Society of the Snow", it also has a sense of complete despair and there is an involuntary separation of a family (which reminds me of "The Pianist" in which Ashwini Sun Adrien Brody's character is also separated from his family in the story).

"Nothing is more powerful than the human spirit" it writes on the poster.

"Nowhere", is directed by Ashwini Moon Albert Pintó, a survival thriller about a pregnant woman who finds herself isolated from society as she's drifting in the sea trapped inside a container. Because of her newborn baby, she is forced to survive and protect her child even when there is no hope. The reason why she's even in the container is because she was fleeing a society of a dystopian future in which women & children are caged and murdered (Ketu's oppressive forces and her attempt to run away from them leads her to total isolation which is another manifestation of Ketu).

And we also have the film "127 Hours", directed by Ashwini Moon Danny Boyle, starring Ashwini Sun James Franco who plays Aron Ralston whose right arm becomes trapped against the canyon wall when he was on a solo canyoneering trip. When he is unable to release himself, we realize the severity of his situation. He is completely isolated and alone. His own supplies running out and he's losing his mind. The struggle for survival and one's own helplessness is a theme of Ashwini nakshatra as this eventually drives one into taking extreme measures for freedom -- as the audience sees him resorting to cutting his own arm off.

These themes seem to speak of the power and resilience of the human spirit, as emphasized in "The Impossible" and "Society of the Snow". Our ability to survive even just our own personal traumas must be a testament to our spirit being an extension of the Higher Power which is behind the happenings of all of these senseless yet significant experiences and events we go through.

It is in Ashwini that one's experience through harsh forces contributes to the spirit's evolution after total annihilation, which leads us on the path towards moksha. This is particularly why I state that Ashwini must be the last nakshatra, in my opinion of course.

Ketu is very pure by nature, and it wants to destroy impurities. The repression of one's accumulated dirt can manifest in destructive tendencies, this being a misdirected flow of Ketu energies wanting to express the very raw forces we're wired to run away from. By facing one's true inner self and embracing your entirety is how you embrace Ketu in general. But one must go deep and inward. All three Ketu nakshatras deal with getting to the roots for this reason.

Ashwini is ruled by the Ashwini Kumaras, gods of medicine and healing. Also known as divine physicians. In order to heal, one must get to the root of all disturbances in order to create the perfect medicine to heal. As Ashwini is ruled by the 1H, this does involve getting into the roots of oneself for self-liberation. Magha, on the other hand, is about tracing your own existence back to the consciousness of others -- usually family members and ancestors. Magha relates to generational trauma and shining light on that in order to be freer. Mula is symbolized by the roots of a tree, and 'mula' translates to 'roots'. It signifies ancestry roots as well, but mostly the truth. Mula is where disillusionment takes place as one gets directly into the roots of everything; going right into the galactic center -- which can also signify going right into the roots of our demons and letting all of that rotting energy burn from your body. And after this purification process, one's consciousness raises by default.

Ashwini has strong, undeveloped energies which can be tamed and grounded to be properly channeled -- in order for this to be achieved, one must let go of poisonous impurities so that they're no longer controlled/possessed by unseen forces. It is in Ashwini that we expand on the interconnection of the collective consciousness being tight, as this was secretly discovered in Uttara Bhadrapada and remembered in Revati. Ashwini nakshatra is extremely sensitive to outward energies, as are the rest of the Ketu nakshatras. Every individual's consciousness is affecting the whole world somehow. This being a Ketu theme in general describes the whole energetic field of the world and how we each play a part in it and affect each other's lives. As all Ketu nakshatras deal with getting into the roots of things, we must get dirty by digging into our own roots which are connected to the reasons for our layers of repressed emotions such as rage, numbness, resentment, hatred and grief which are commonly harboured in Ketu natives. These unconscious emotions, which form our Shadow Self, contribute to how we interact with the world and other people -- and there's always that capacity to harm or further traumatize others because of our own unchecked, hidden troubles. Mula also perfectly shows how all of the complex, interconnected traumas of everyone else are intertwining and creating more chaos and confusion in society; and the disillusionment to how the oppressive systems of society are just breeding more of these pains & troubles -- which in turn, in Ketu fashion, demonstrates just how trapped everyone is.

Continued in Part 2 of this exploration

#ashwini #aries #magha #leo #mula #sagitarrius #1st house #5th house #9th house #vedic astrology #astro observations #astrology #sidereal astrology #nakshatra series #vedic observations #sidereal observations #Youtube

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writeyouin · 10 months

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Mirage X Reader - Falling

Description (This was a request but it got sent to my PMs instead of my inbox by accident): When Alison Moyet's song Falling comes on the radio, Mirage is forced to think about you and his feelings towards you.

A/N – Yep, so another Mirage one for all of you desperately waiting for the film to come out on a good pirating site in top quality.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You stood at the sink washing dishes, a tune on your lips that you mumbled quietly to yourself, only half singing with your mind on other things like lost loves, failed relationships, and someone new in your life; Mirage.

“She said something like, I’m tired of me,” You sang Alison Moyet’s ‘Falling’, and then transitioned to whistling part more of the tune which had only come out a year prior.

Then, without the radio to follow, you reset to an earlier part of the tune, singing whichever little bits came to mind.

Little did you know, Mirage was spying on you, trying his best to imitate the stealthy way Arcee moved. Alas, subtlety wasn’t Mirage’s strong suit and he had already knocked over a row of garbage cans, and crushed some kid’s bike; he could only hope the bike wouldn’t be missed. Fortunately, among the usual noise and squalor of New York, nobody had cared about the sound or come out to explore.

Mirage wasn’t trying to be a creep by observing you. He just wanted to know more about your life and what you did. It seemed that in your day-to-day routine, you were obsessed with music. Bumblebee had already introduced Mirage to the concept of human music which was vastly different from the stuff that used to exist on Cybertron and Mirage liked it.

It was different from what he was used to for sure, but there were some songs he just couldn’t resist. The Twisted Sister song ‘We’re Not Gonna Take It,’ seemed to be a great Frag You to any Decepticon scum that attempted battle with him. And there was that one Bumblebee had introduced to him, ‘I Can’t Drive 55’, by that Sammy Hager fella. That was great, but Mirage was more than capable of beating that set speed and regularly did so when he wanted to bait the local authorities into a fun chase.

Still, he wasn’t sure he saw the appeal of this song. It sounded happy and sad at the same time, and he couldn’t decide which it was supposed to be with its New Wave vibe. Was it about falling, like it said? Falling for what? Mirage wasn’t sure, but you seemed to enjoy it. You hummed it quite a lot when you were thinking; he wasn’t sure you realised that you did that. It was one of the things he liked about you. It felt like you were letting your guard down when you hummed along to half a tune, and he enjoyed that you could feel so relaxed around him and the other Autobots.

Mirage might have called on you that night to ask you out on a drive; he liked your company. Alas, he got a message from Optimus telling him to return for the evening so they might meet the humans that Noah had been found by. Apparently, the new humans wished to discuss the possibility of an alliance with the Autobots.

Either way, Optimus’ message ended with, “Return to the rendezvous immediately.”

“Mirage, return,” Mirage mocked, impersonating Optimus. “Mirage, meet the humans. Mirage, I choose you.”

“Did I ask for your backtalk?” Optimus’ gravelly voice came through the radio.

“Scrap!” Mirage hurried to end the communication, having not realised that the line was still open when he had been joking around.

He transformed and raced off to the rendezvous point, any thoughts of you temporarily forgotten.

The next night, the Autobots stood in a unified line as they stared at their new base, a fully functional warehouse, with technology that they could use, even if it was primitive Earth tech.

“Optimus, can we trust these humans?” Arcee asked, her optics never leaving the building.

“We must try, Arcee. I see now that we have spent too much time working only for ourselves when we should have been working together.”

“Any way you want it, that’s the way you need it,” Bumblebee played from his speakers, using Journey’s immortalised words to convey his point.

Arcee looked past Optimus to catch a glimpse of Mirage, “You’ve been awfully quiet, Mirage. Thoughts?”

Mirage marched himself in front of the trio, clapping his servos together as he began his speech, “Well, I mean, clearly there’s a lot to think about here. There are the new humans we know, we have to check the place for bugs, and of course, there’s the most important matter of all-” He took a few slow steps backwards, “- who gets the biggest room. I call dibs!”

With that Mirage spun on his heel and pelted towards the base. Bumblebee, unwilling to let Mirage have all the fun joined in the race and chased after his ally, though when he had just about caught up, Mirage jumped backwards, crashing into Bumblebee and knocking him over. Before he could sprint off again, Bumblebee grabbed Mirage’s ankle and the two began brawling on the floor.

Optimus walked past the wrestling bots with dignity befitting his position and a dismayed shake of his head.

Arcee took a few steps closer to her allies, resting her servo on her hip as she took in the show.

‘Scouts will be scouts,’ She thought mirthfully.

Eventually, the competition was over, with Bumblebee the clear victor, and after sitting on top of Mirage for ten minutes, he finally let him get up, but only after Mirage admitted that Bumblebee was the best Autobot and the supreme Earth expert.

After that, they raced through the base, checking out every nook and cranny, and wondering which exits they could exploit and sneak out of, should Optimus try to ground them from the drive-in again.

Eventually, Bumblebee and Mirage settled down, each picking out a portion of the warehouse that was just for them. All rooms had been modified with individual entrances so they could come and go as they pleased. Mirage had even been hooked up with some sweet racing posters. He set about decorating the room to his liking, letting his internal radio play as he did so. After switching channels, he stumbled across the song you liked so much.

Curiously, he let it play, trying to really listen to what the lyrics meant.

She said something like I want to go Down where the river's wild He said take me then I want to drown Deep in your violent eyes

Deep in your violent eyes? Was it a love song? If it was, it was the strangest one he had heard before.

He continued listening.

But I want to be sure of one thing That I'm getting into something peaceful I want to fly in on your wing Way, way up here I don't care for anything It's all in, and I'm not afraid I don't fear Falling

There was no doubt about it. The song was indeed about falling in love.

Mirage felt a sharp prick of indignation. Were you in love with someone? He had to assume so, considering that you didn’t seem to sing anything else. It was always this song. Who were you in love with, and why did he care so much?

He wasn’t sure, but the idea of you with someone else made Mirage’s engines rev and his face contort disgustedly. You were his buddy, his pal, his partner in crime. Why did you need some stupid, boring human, when you could hang out with him? Speaking of which, when was the last time the two of you had hung out of late? You hadn’t been together much since he’d been repaired. Well, with his room claimed and little else to do, Mirage decided that tonight was as good as any to get in some bonding time.

He transformed, revving his engine loudly as he waited for the automatic garage door to open for him. His wheels spun on the spot in a move that would have burned rubber on any ordinary car. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened enough for him to slip through and he sped off, ignoring every speed limit he came across; if Prime gave him the third degree about laying low later, he would claim ignorance and take whatever punishment he was given.

When Mirage got to your house, he honked his horn loudly, waiting for you to open your window and see him. He couldn’t transform into his root-mode while a few seedy humans lingered about, so he had to wait for you to get to him… presuming you weren’t with someone lame, like a crush you hadn’t mentioned.

At the commotion, you poked your head out of the window, grinning when you saw Mirage. You held up two fingers, indicating that you would be two minutes and then hastily got changed from your pyjamas back into your day clothes. Grabbing your keys, you ran outside and climbed into Mirage’s passenger seat, buckling up in case he decided to take off before speaking as he was prone to do; buckling up was indeed a wise choice as Mirage took speedily to the streets.

“So,” You asked casually, “Business or pleasure?”

“Have you ever seen me do business? Business is for the big guy, you know, never smiles, never shows me that underbite, the big OP,” Mirage sassed you.

“I dunno, you seemed pretty business when you fought Scourge for me.”

“For you? No, no, no, I was fighting Scourge just for the sake of being the tri-planet champion.”

“Tri-planet champion?” You repeated incredulously. “You only fought him on Earth.”

“Yeah, but he’s from Galvatron, the living freaking planet. He fought on the Maximals’ planet, and he came here. Count ‘em – One, two, three. So, I digress, Tri-planet Champion.”

“Well, technically Noah was the one to face off with him, so-”

“Yeah, while he was inside me.”

“Okay, but Optimus was the one who took him offline.”

“Look, Optimus is always gonna be the champion of frowning and hard stares, a class I can’t compete in, so this is my thing.”

“All right,” You held up your hands in mock defeat. “You’re the champion.”

“Damn straight.”

“…Is the Champion going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere, Anywhere the road takes us. Just sit back and relax. We could listen to some music,” Mirage suggested innocently, his hidden agenda on his processor.

“Sure, then I can be the champion of karaoke,” You bragged.

“Against my voice? In your dreams.”

“Oh, so you can fight, race, and sing? Triple threat.”

Mirage laughed and turned on his radio. He let a few songs play, letting you sing along while he distractedly kept his inner workings tuned on finding the Alison Moyet hit. It would likely play soon, considering its popularity.

After a few good tunes, Mirage managed to find the song and he switched channels.

“Oh hey, I’ve heard this one before,” He said nonchalantly, “This is that sappy love song, right?“

“I don’t think it’s that sappy,” You defended with a smile.

“Oh yeah? Why? Does it make you think of someone special or something?”

You imagined how easy it would be to tell Mirage the the ‘someone special’ was him; as it turned out, it wouldn’t be easy at all. You clamped your mouth shut, a blush peppering your cheeks.

“So there is someone!” Mirage said all too accusingly. “You won’t be needing me anymore then, when this new person comes into your life.”

“You sound angry.”

“No I don’t!” Mirage replied huffily, proving your point. “You know what? I don’t think I like this song after all.”

He turned the radio off and the two of you sat in awkward silence. He kept on driving, slamming down on the accelerator. There was a lot of noise from honking cars as he sped in and out of their way.

“Just tell me who it is!” Mirage demanded petulantly when the silence finally got to him. “Is it Noah? He’s probably your type, right?”

“Why do you care?” You asked, annoyed and upset by the turn of events from nice drive to speedy interrogation.

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you asking so many questions?”

“I just feel I deserve to know who it is.”

“NO YOU DON’T!” You yelled back. “THEY’RE MY FEELINGS”

“AND I’M YOUR FRIEND,” Mirage countered as if that ought to give him the right to know everything you thought.

“This is so stupid,” You breathed, shaking your head.

“Come on!” Mirage insisted. “Tell me!”

“No.”

“Tell me!”

“No!”

“Tell me, tell me, tell me-”

Against Mirage’s frustrating onslaught, you finally yelled, “IT’S YOU!”

Mirage slammed hard on the breaks and you lurched forward, hissing as the seatbelt bit painfully into your collar bone. Fortunately, you were in an area with no cars on the road, having got off the interstate some time ago.

“What?” Mirage asked.

“It’s nothing, just… take me home, please,” You begged, scared now that you had said too much.

“You like me? Like romantically? You like me romantically? You romantically like me?”

“You done with the combinations?” You said bitterly.

“But I’m- I’m an alien.”

“Yeah,” You threw your hands up. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. Now will you please take me home?”

Mirage transformed his arm, pulling you out of his chassis as the rest of his body followed suit. From his palm, you looked down to the floor, wondering whether it would be better to jump and get a concussion rather than have the embarrassing conversation that was about to follow.

“I don’t get it,” Mirage said, staring at you as if you were a complicated mathematics problem.

“I know,” You said, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself as if it might protect you from the sorrow you were feeling.

“No, but like, I really don’t get it. I thought you were just a friend, and kind of cool but I think- I think I feel the same way, maybe?”

You watched Mirage guardedly, unsure as to why he was asking you when it was his feelings that were scrambled.

“Look, Mirage, you don’t have to pity me, okay? Please don’t test yourself on me. I know I’m not what you’d look for and-”

Mirage pressed his lips against yours then hastily pulled away. You stared at him, too scared to speak.

He nodded to himself, pecked your lips again, and then vented a quick puff of air from his systems.

“Yeah, yep, yes,” He stammered. “That- That was a feeling. A-ha. Yeah, so I just found out I have a thing for you too.”

“You serious?” You asked, making sure that Mirage was alright as he stumbled through a barrage of new feelings.

“Yeah, I uh- I get the song now. Still don’t love it, but I get it.”

“Seriously? You’re still thinking about the song?”

“Hey, I’m thinking about a lot of things at once here (Y/N), mostly how I’m going to explain this to Prime later, a little bit about how this is going to work, and yeah, the song slipped in there. Frankly, I think we need to get you more into Bon Jovi, but I guess this could be our song or whatever.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “This was not how I pictured any of this going.”

“Yeah,” Mirage nodded, pacing back and forth, the motion rocking you on his palm, “But at least we got a song, right? Most new couples got nothing.”

Despite your tiredness, you couldn’t help smiling at his straightforward manner of thinking, “Sure, Mirage. At least we have a song.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #transformers #maccadam #tf #transformers rise of the beasts #optimus prime #bumblebee #arcee #mirage #mirage x reader #mirage x you #falling #alison moyet

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helloalycia · 4 months

Text

𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

summary: when you stumble across Jackie after she's just broken up with her boyfriend, you feel a moral obligation to make sure she's okay. Naturally, that turns into something more.

warning/s: none.

author's note: it physically pained me to write soccer instead of football for this lol, a few 'football's might have slipped in out of habit. But yeah, hope you like this! it's a three parter and jackie taylor deserved better oops

also y/bf/n = your best friend's name

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

My fingers fumbled for the catch at the back of my camera, opening it up and revealing the freshly wound up film. As I grabbed it, I barely had chance to think about my next move before the door behind me slammed into my back, knocking me forward and making the roll fly in the air momentarily.

"No!" I yelped, reaching out to catch it before it could hit the concrete stairs and roll away into oblivion.

"Shit, sorry," someone said with realisation as I caught the roll and sighed with relief.

Gripping the roll tighter than ever, I closed the camera and let it hang from my neck as I turned to see who it was. "It's fine, maybe I should stand somewhere other than the entrance to unload my– shit, are you okay?"

My brows furrowed with concern at the sight of Jackie Taylor, the captain of the girl's soccer team. Her presence wasn't what concerned me, but rather the obvious tears on her face that she awkwardly tried to wipe away when our eyes briefly met.

"Yeah, I'm–" she started, but was interrupted by her own sniffling, and she completely turned away in an attempt to collect herself.

This was the opposite of the Jackie Taylor I'd come to know over the years. Having witnessed her rise into captain as I photographed the team's success – the Yellowjackets – for the school paper had given me enough time with her to know she was usually a happy, confident girl. I'd never seen her cry like this before, especially not at school.

"What happened?" I asked gently.

She shook her head, forcing a smile. "Nothing, I just– I broke up with Jeff."

I wasn't sure what to say at first, familiar with her boyfriend but knowing they were known for having their breaks here and there. Still, this looked worse than usual.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I finally spoke, chewing on my lip. "Is there anything I can do?"

She shook her head, straightening up suddenly. "No. But do you know when the next bus arrives? I was supposed to get a ride home with him, but–"

"No, er, I don't really get–" I started, but amended, "I mean, I can check, but–"

"Forget it," she said with a sigh. "I'll figure it out. Thanks."

Without another word, she walked past me and down the steps. I watched her, debating whether or not to offer her a ride since I knew for certain I'd never seen her catch a bus in my life, and it was well after school hours so they might not even be running now. There was also the fact that she was clearly upset, and my conscious wouldn't rest easy knowing I'd left her alone.

"Jackie, wait," I called out to her, pocketing my film canister and jogging to catch up to her. She stopped, turning around, and I pulled out my car keys. "I can give you a ride."

A little surprised, her hazel eyes widened slightly. "Oh. Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Yeah. C'mon."

She silently followed me to my car, getting into the passenger's seat as I did the driver's. It was never awkward between us before, but our exchanges were always limited to greetings, soccer talk or photo ops. Now however, there was a slight tension in the air, mainly because of her situation. She didn't speak except for when she told me where she lived, and after that, I didn't speak up either, not wanting to pressure her into sharing if she didn't want to.

"Thank you," she muttered halfway through the drive, and I glanced over at her to see her watching me apologetically. "Is your camera thingy okay? Whatever I knocked?"

"The film, yeah," I assured her. "No worries. It was just the roll from the baseball game yesterday. So pretty low value considering they always lose."

It was a poor attempt to make her laugh, since it was universally known that the school baseball team were below average, especially compared to the Yellowjackets, but it seemed to work as she let out a quiet chuckle. I smiled, glad she was cheered up a little.

"Well, sorry anyway," she added politely.

I shrugged. "No harm done."

Another silence fell upon us the remainder of the drive to hers, but it wasn't awkward any longer. Once I pulled up outside her house, I tried not to let my amazement at how huge her place was show. I'd always known she was rich, but this was another level.

"Thanks for the ride," she spoke, pulling me from my stupor.

I met her gaze, expression softening slightly. "You gonna be okay?"

She nodded, and I had no choice but to believe her.

"Okay then. Well, see you tomorrow, Jackie."

She smiled a little before getting out the car and heading inside. Despite her feigned confidence, it was obvious she wasn't happy, and I only hoped she would feel better tomorrow. Whatever had happened between her and Jeff hadn't been like the usual, not judging by the state of her.

The next day after school was when I had chance to properly check on Jackie. I was at the Yellowjackets' practice, shooting for the yearbook, and she was there too.

"You gonna make us look good, right, Y/L/N?" Nat, one of the players, asked when she saw me heading on the field.

"Always," I returned with a smile, and she grinned as she jogged away to get started.

My eyes scanned the field before I spotted Jackie by the goal, using the post to stretch. I subtly approached her, not wanting to draw too much attention in case she hadn't told anyone about the breakup.

"Hey, Jackie," I greeted her, making her pause from her stretching. "How are you doing? Y'know, about the yesterday thing?"

She smiled gratefully, nodding. "I'm good, Y/N, thanks."

I wasn't sure if she was telling the truth, but I also didn't expect her to confide in me, so I simply nodded.

"Good, well... if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here."

"Thanks," she said quietly, smile fading a little. "I appreciate it."

I gave her a genuine smile. "Anytime."

And with that, I left her to it, feeling a lot better knowing I'd at least offered up my help.

The Yellowjackets' soccer game was after school at the end of that same week, and I was paying them a visit beforehand to wish them luck and also gift them some candid portraits they'd asked for a few weeks ago.

When I let myself in their locker room, they were pretty much dressed in their uniforms, some helping each other out with braiding their hair back or engaging in some pre-game superstitions. It always made me smile because they never failed to hype themselves up and it showed.

"Heeeeeyyyyy! Y/N's here with our close ups!" someone shouted, and everybody cheered as I rolled my eyes playfully.

First on the pile of photos in my hand was Van, who I found searching in her locker whilst singing along to a song that was blasting from the stereo in the corner.

"There's my favourite goalie," I greeted, and she laughed as I handed her the photograph in a plastic wallet. "For you. The one you liked in the paper, right?"

She straightened up when she saw it, smile brightening on her face. "Oh, hell yeah, this is so badass! Thanks, Y/N!"

"No worries," I said dismissively, before moving around the room to hand out the rest of the photos.

Everybody seemed pleased with what they got, which was always reassuring to hear since it was supposed to be my best skill.

"Last but not least, Jackie," I said, finding the team captain by her locker, fixing her hair in the mirror that hung inside.

She flashed me a smile as I handed her the photograph. In it, she was mid-kicking a ball into the net, scoring a goal for the team.

"Y/N, I love it," she said with gratitude, eyes taking the whole image in before looking up to me. "Thank you."

I held out another photograph, earning a confused look from her. "It's a little bonus photo. Thought it might cheer you up after everything."

She raised her eyebrows slightly, before accepting the photo and studying it. This one was a photo I'd taken at the Yellowjackets' last game, moments after they'd won. Jackie was cheering with her teammates and I'd managed to take the perfect picture of her as she was surrounded by them, a grin on her face, eyes bursting with excitement. It was probably my favourite of the two.

"You didn't need to..." she started, but stopped herself. And then she surprised me with a hug, wrapping her one free hand around my neck. "I really appreciate it."

Before I could even think to hug her back, she pulled away to give me a heartwarming smile.

"Anytime," I told her, acutely aware of the mild butterflies in my stomach from her gaze, but that was merely because I wasn't stupid and Jackie Taylor was very pretty. "If you're ever thinking about you-know-what, just remember. At the end of the day, he's just some guy."

Her smile widened and then she let out a laugh. "Very true. I won't forget."

I smiled, nodding and taking a step back. "I'll leave you to finish getting ready. Good luck tonight. Not that you'll need it."

"Be sure to get my best side," she joked, turning her head to the left.

I laughed. "Jackie Taylor doesn't have a bad side."

She winked playfully, and I left her to it as I headed out to the field to get ready to photograph tonight's game.

As expected, the Yellowjackets won and I got a lot of good shots in of their winning goals. Even though a lot of the photos were similar to others I'd taken, I didn't mind it as it challenged me to try out different things with my camera, like messing with the shutter speed or even using a double exposure to create cool effects.

After snapping some final shots of the team celebrating on the pitch, I moved out the way of the friends and family who were there with them and focused on changing the roll of film in my camera. Just after rewinding the current roll and opening the back of my camera, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder unexpectedly. Startled yet again, my hands twitched and the roll flew up and out the camera. I managed to catch it before it could fall into the grass, and turned around to find Jackie failing to stifle her laughter.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I didn't mean to scare you again," she said apologetically.

"Oh, it's fine," I said sarcastically, stuffing the roll into the canister in my pocket. "It's only the winning goals on film."

She sighed through her nose, her lips pursed into an amused smile. "Sorry. I came because the girls wanted a team photo."

I gave her a knowing look. "On it."

After gathering the team together and replacing my film, I took a few photos of them with their medals and trophy before my job was officially done for the afternoon.

"They come out good?" Jackie asked afterwards, as I put my camera away.

"I'd like to think so," I said sarcastically, making her roll her eyes lightheartedly.

"So, the party tonight," she started, piquing my interest. "You're coming, right?"

I quirked a brow. "Huh?"

"It's at the usual spot," she added.

I pursed my lips, unsure how to tell her that though I knew what she was talking about and I'd always been invited, the post-soccer game party wasn't my thing.

"You don't usually come, do you?" she caught on, crossing her arms with amusement.

"It's not really my scene," I admitted.

"Well, d'you wanna perhaps make a change tonight?" she asked, pleading with her eyes. "I'd love to see you there."

I wasn't sure why she suddenly wanted me there – maybe because I'd been extra nice to her recently and she felt she owed me? And I also wasn't sure if she knew the effect she had on people when she gave them her whole 'innocent doe-eyed' look, but maybe she did since it seemed to work.

"Fine," I gave in reluctantly, making her grin. I nodded to my best friend, Y/BF/N, who was sat in the stands as she made notes on tonight's game – she was a journalist for the paper. "Can I bring Y/BF/N?"

"Duh," she said like it was a dumb question. "You're both always welcome."

I nodded. "Okay, I guess I'll see you tonight."

She tilted her head, eyes sparkling with her usual Jackie mischief. "See you tonight."

"I'm so glad Jackie convinced you," Y/BF/N was saying with excitement as I drove us to the deserted clearing where the party was being held. "I've always wanted to go to one of these things, but you always say no."

"I've literally never stopped you," I said, giving her a sideways glance.

"I couldn't just go without you," she said, in a somewhat sweet way which made me feel guilty for never going to one of these things with her.

"Well, feel free to go crazy tonight," I said with a slight smile. "I'm driving."

"Oh, you bet I will," she said eagerly, making me laugh.

When we got there, the party was in full swing. A bonfire was set up in the middle, with a lot of people from our grade hanging about. Some were dancing, drinking and chatting away, celebrating the Yellowjackets' win. As Y/BF/N and I passed a few of our classmates to reach Jackie and the team, I was reminded why parties weren't my scene, but sucked it up for Y/BF/N.

"And there she is!" Nat shouted, spotting me first and pulling me in for a side hug. "When Jackie told us you were coming, I could swear she was bullshitting."

"It's good to see you too, Nat," I laughed.

"And Y/BF/N is out tonight too," Lottie noticed with a smile. "It's nice to have you both here."

"Anything to support the team," Y/BF/N played along, making everyone laugh. "Now, what's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?"

As Nat tugged her away to find her a drink, Jackie approached my side and nudged me gently.

"I'm glad you made it," she said, eyes doing a once over of me which admittedly made me nervous. "You look pretty. And it's the first time I've seen you without a camera, who knew it was possible?"

I rolled my eyes, though a smile ghosted my lips. Judging from her stifled grin, she was impressed at her own joke.

"You want a drink?" she offered, already about to leave and grab me one, but I shook my head politely.

"Thanks, but I'm designated driver tonight."

"Me and you both," Shauna said, raising her cup of water.

I cracked a smile as Jackie looked back to me hopefully.

"Okay, well how about a dance?"

I tried to hide my surprise, unsure if I could handle dancing with the Jackie Taylor without freaking out. No, I wasn't insanely head over heels for the girl, but yes, I had eyes and knew I'd get nervous dancing with a flirt like her.

"Maybe when a good song comes on," I settled on the safe response.

She studied me curiously. "Hmm. And what's a good song?"

I listened to the music that was on now, definitely not my style, and truthfully answered, "Definitely not this. Maybe some [your favourite artist]?"

She sighed defeatedly. "Your lucky day. I don't think anybody brought that tape."

I shrugged playfully. "Shame."

It was her turn to roll her eyes, feigning annoyance, but she got me a cup of water nonetheless and I stayed to chat with her, Shauna and a few others in her team. Y/BF/N returned with Nat not long later, and conversation soon changed from the soccer game to the paper. I didn't mind, enjoying talking to them about it all, as did Y/BF/N, but then a few of them were after some more fun 'party' stuff, and headed over to get a little more drunk.

Shauna and I, designated drivers as we'd established, stuck together for most of the evening. She watched as Jackie danced the night away with the others, and I watched as Y/BF/N had the time of her life, flirting with some of the jocks. By the time an hour and a half passed and my social battery had completely drained, Y/BF/N was pretty drunk and I knew we had to leave.

I said my goodbyes to Shauna before finding Jackie to the do the same. She wasn't as drunk as Y/BF/N, but definitely tipsy. As soon as she spun around, a massive grin fell on her lips and she hugged me.

"Okay," I said with surprise, receiving a lot more hugs from Jackie Taylor this past week than I had in my life. "I've gotta get Y/BF/N home now, Jackie. Just wanted to say goodnight."

"Thank you for coming," she said, pulling back with a drunken smile, but alert eyes. "And for the photos you gave me. And in general, for being a really great friend."

Yep, definitely bordering drunk.

"Thanks for inviting me tonight," I said, patting her arm before letting go. "I... liked it."

Okay, maybe not, but she was trying to be nice and I had to return the favour.

Jackie Taylor wasn't stupid though, even in this state, and a quiet chuckle from her told me all I need to know. "You owe me a dance."

"One day, maybe," I breathed out, glancing at her.

She smirked. "I'll take it."

Jackie had always been friendly with me around school, but since that week, it was as if she made more of an effort to be. Whether it was saying hi to me in the hallways, smiling at me between classes or chatting to me more whenever I was taking photos, she was more involved in my life. I didn't hate it of course, but it was something new.

One weekend, I was running some errands around town when I decided to finish up at one of my favourite coffee shops and treat myself. Armed with my purse and current read, I headed in and ordered myself a mocha with the intention of settling in the corner of the store and having some 'me' time. Of course, when I collected my drink from the counter, a familiar voice called my name and I spun around with furrowed brows.

To my surprise, it was Jackie waving at me from her table by the window, seated opposite Shauna. It felt a little rude to ignore her, so I headed over and smiled at them both.

"Fancy seeing you here," Jackie said with a grin, before motioning next to Shauna. "Join us?"

I glanced at Shauna, who had a welcoming smile on her face, so I replied, "Oh, er, thanks. Good to see you guys!"

As I took my seat, I left my bag next to me, expecting my reading time to become nonexistent now that I'd joined the two soccer players.

"We're not bothering you, are we?" Shauna asked considerately, making me smile with amusement because she was so different to an oblivious Jackie.

"Nah, you're good," I assured her, before looking between them. "What are you two up to then?"

"Oh, just having a girls day," Jackie answered, leaning back in her seat and flashing me her signature smile. "How about you?"

"Just running some errands," I said with a shrug. "Picking up some more film, getting some stuff for my mum, not much."

"So, I take it you finished the English assignment due tomorrow?" Shauna asked.

"Oh, yeah, got that done weeks ago," I said like it was a silly question, and then I saw the look Shauna shot Jackie and realised. "Wait, you haven't finished it?"

Jackie scoffed playfully. "Oh, come on, of course I have!" When Shauna kept staring at her, she continued, "I just need to write the conclusion."

"And the introduction," Shauna mumbled.

"Okay, yes, fine," Jackie gave in. "But it'll be done!"

I quirked a brow at her. "You not even worried? Mr. C isn't known for his leniency."

"Oh, Mr. C does not scare me," she said with assuredness. "Besides, I reckon I can talk him into giving me a two day extension."

I exhaled, trying not to laugh. "Of course you can."

I was convinced that there wasn't something Jackie Taylor couldn't do, and judging by the satisfied smile on her lips, I think she knew it too.

The three of us stayed there as I finished my coffee, and continued to sit there chatting about all sorts. I'd never really hung out with them properly outside of school, so I was oddly surprised with how well we got along.

Eventually, Shauna checked her watch and was sorry to interrupt our fruitless conversation about the rumours regarding our Chemistry teacher and IT teacher hooking up.

"I'm sorry, guys, but I gotta shoot off," she said with a slight frown.

"Oh, no worries," I said, straightening up, ready to leave the booth so she could leave.

"Aw no, really, Shauna?" Jackie said with a pout. "It's not even been an hour!"

"Hey, I'm not stopping you from staying, but you'll have to catch the bus home," Shauna replied with a chuckle, making Jackie scrunch her nose with disgust.

As I got up, letting Shauna stand, I realised what the problem was and looked to Jackie. "I don't mind giving you a ride."

And just like that, her smile returned. "Really?"

I shrugged. "No biggie."

"Awesome, thanks, Y/N," Shauna said gratefully, squeezing my shoulder. "Can't have Princess Jackie stranded without a carriage."

I laughed as Jackie rolled her eyes at the insult, and Shauna tried to hide her smile as she said her goodbyes.

"It's not that funny," Jackie stated, when she saw the smile still on my lips.

"It kind of is," I said with a breathy chuckle.

She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at me lightheartedly. Now that we were alone, I figured now was a better time than any to properly check in on her.

"So, how have you been doing?" I asked carefully. "Since the whole you-know-what?"

Unlike the last time I asked her a few weeks ago, she actually seemed to be doing a lot better, no hint of sadness in her eyes. "Pretty good. Think I might be over it now. You know how boys can be."

I hummed, awkward smile forming on my lips as I suddenly distracted myself with whatever was going on outside the window. I failed to remember how observant Jackie was though.

"Wait, have you never had a boyfriend?" she asked with surprise, leaning forward slightly.

I settled with shaking my head, and she tried to make me feel better by shrugging and sipping her milkshake from the straw.

"You're not missing out on much," she assured me.

I couldn't help but snicker, shaking my head, though grateful for her attempt at putting me at ease. "That's what people who've had boyfriends usually say."

She smiled, cheeks dusting pink when I caught her out, and now it was my turn to assure her.

"It's fine," I said nonchalantly. "Boys are gross anyway."

She snorted with amusement. "Amen. It would just be easier to date girls, wouldn't it?"

I was surprised she'd said that, staying quiet for a second too long, and her eyes widened with realisation.

Suddenly embarrassed, she stuttered, "Oh, you like– I mean, you're– you're a–"

"Lesbian?" I finished with an entertained smile. She nodded awkwardly, and I confirmed, "Yeah, but I don't exactly go around shouting it out. People don't tend to react well when they find out."

She exhaled softly, eyes flittering around the table nervously. "Oh. Well, I won't tell anyone if that's what you're worried about."

I shrugged, soaking in a flustered Jackie for a little longer, holding in my laughter. Truthfully, it was very amusing watching her figure out the best reaction because I knew she was harmless. It would have been easy to embarrass her a little more for fun, but she was clearly going through it with her deep pink cheeks, now matching the colour of her lips.

After a moment of collecting herself, her hazel eyes met mine in an attempt to return to normal. "So, are there any girls you're interested in?"

It was impossible not to laugh now as I gave her a questioning look. "Really, Jackie?"

She nodded quickly, eyes returning to the table. "Right. Sorry."

I giggled at her expression before changing the subject, knowing it would definitely make her feel better. Despite my confidence in my sexuality, a small part of me hoped she wouldn't treat me any different after finding out, and thankfully, she didn't. We still chatted like usual, enjoying each other's company, until she finished her milkshake and it was time to head off.

It might have been the sugar from her milkshake, or just her plain inability to sit still, but when I was driving home, she wouldn't stop messing around with the radio stations, trying to find a good song.

"Oh my god, you're driving me insane," I finally said, making her stop.

"Not my fault the radio is garbage," she said in a knowing tone.

I rolled my eyes playfully before nodding to the centre console. "I have some cassettes. Find something you like and please stop breaking my radio."

She smiled cheekily before doing just that, flicking through the tapes I had. Finally, she decided on some Mariah Carey and managed to keep quiet the rest of the way. Occasionally she'd hum along, but I much preferred that over her touching the radio a million times.

When we reached her house, I pulled up outside and offered her a smile. "Was cool hanging out with you and Shauna today."

"It was," she agreed, before grabbing her purse and resting her hand on the door handle. "We should do it again sometime."

I shrugged, not minding, and her smile widened before she got out.

Leaning her head down to look at me through the open window, she added, "Thanks for the ride. Again."

I cleared my throat, a smile ghosting my lips as I said, "In the wise words of Shauna Shipman, we can't have Princess Jackie stranded without a–"

"Ass," she mumbled, leaving before I could finish, but a smile crossed her expression as I laughed to myself.

I suppose hanging out with Jackie Taylor wasn't so bad.

#jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor imagine #ella purnell #yellowjackets #yellowjackets imagine #jackie taylor x you

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auras-moonstone · 10 months

Text

mad woman — ethan landry

word count: 937.

based on: mad woman by taylor swift.

pairing: gf!ethan landry x gf!fem!reader

summary: y/n lost her sister at the hands of tara, so she joins forces with the kirsch family. and on her path of vengeance, she finds herself falling for ethan.

author’s note: soo this is my first post, i was listening to folklore and when this song started i just got inspired. i’m planning on making a small series about this!

next part

Y/N JUST COULDN’T STAND the way Tara moved on with her life while she had to bare with the pain of having lost her sister. Amber and Y/N were supposed to go to Blackmore University and become film students together, they were supposed to go to frat parties, study together, graduate together—live the whole college experience together. Tara Carpenter took that away from them, and Y/N was going to make her pay.

She had to fake niceties with the youngest Carpenter. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, right? She must have been a great actress because Tara absolutely adored Y/N. In fact, everyone in the group adored her. Her facade of the sweet, innocent and kind girl made her have everyone in the palm of her hand.

It hadn’t always been like that, she used to be a really pure soul. But seeing the mutilated burned body of your sister can drive you into madness. And that is what Y/N became: a mad woman seeking for revenge.

Ethan Landry saw right through her act. He could see her eyes turn dark when she looked at Tara, how her fist clenched at the sound of her voice, the fake sweet smile she gave to her supposed best friend. And Y/N saw right through Ethan too. She couldn’t exactly say what was wrong with him, but something just felt off. And Y/N was determined to find out what Ethan hid behind those puppy brown eyes.

“Hey, Ethan” she called him as they left Econ.

“Hey” he greeted her surprised. They never talked much, just exchanged a few friendly words when the group gathered around.

“I just wanted to ask you something, you can totally say no, but I was wondering if you could help me prepare for Econ’s exam? I really don’t understand the last topic” she asked.

“Yeah, sure. I have one more class but if you can wait for me, we can go to my dorm after that” he suggested.

“Yes, no problem”

Nodding, the curly haired boy walked to his next class, leaving the girl standing in the hall with a smile of satisfaction. She could pass Econ with no problem at all, but she needed to find out more about the boy. Checking his room must give her some answers.

“Do you want something to drink?” the boy asked her after an hour of studying.

Perfect opportunity, the girl thought “Yes please, water is fine”.

“I’ll be right back”

Water didn’t require much preparation so she only had a few minutes. Careful as to not make any noise, the girl wandered around the room, looking inside drawers, under papers, textbooks, school bag, but nothing. There was only one more place to check, so she prayed as she walked towards the wardrobe.

Her fingers touched something in between his shirts, and she pulled it out. She let out a gasp, not only because of what the picture showed her, but also because she was roughly pushed against the door of the wardrobe.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Ethan asked harshly. His eyes weren’t soft as usual, instead they reflected anger and darkness. He looked down at her hand, seeing what she was holding and sighed “Why couldn’t you mind your own business, sweetheart?”.

“Well, it was a stupid place to hide that, Landry… or should I say Kirsch?” the girl asked. He looked at her confused. She wasn’t scared or angry, she just smiled victorious. “Are you going to let me go? Because it usually takes at least one date for me to let someone choke me”.

Ethan widened his eyes and turned red as he let go of her neck “Why aren’t you freaking out, trying to warn Sam and Tara?”.

“Why would I do that?” she laughed. “So, you are Richie’s brother? And Quinn’s? And Bailey is your father? Wow, that’s a shocker, I did not see that coming”

“Yes…” he said unsure. He had no idea what was going on. “Not going to lie, I’m very confused right now”

“Oh, right, sorry. I guess I have never been properly introduced. I am Y/N Freeman” she smiled.

“You are… you are Amber’s sister?” he asked, mouth agape.

Y/N nodded. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you and your family are here, that you and your sister casually roomed with Sam, Tara and Chad. So, you have a plan, don’t you?”

“No” he said quickly.

Y/N rolled her eyes “You need lying classes, Kirsch. Come on, tell me”.

Ethan sighed “I don’t know if my family would appreciate me spilling out our plan, sorry”.

“What if I ask them to include me? Do you think they will let me?” she asked him.

“You want in?” he asked surprised.

“I have wanted to make Tara pay for a long time, but it’s not something I can do alone. I can be useful, I mean, the group trusts me. So what do you say?”

“I can’t guarantee you anything, but I’ll try to convince them”

“Thank you” she said with a smile of appreciation. “And please hide that picture better, for god’s sake”.

“Don’t tell me what to do”

“What are you, five?” she rolled her eyes, gathering her things.

“You are leaving?” he asked, disappointed.

Y/N raised her eyebrows “I just wanted to find out what you were hiding, I don’t really need help with Econ”.

“Wait, what? So you wasted a whole hour of my life?”

“Because you had such a social life, Ethan” she said sarcastically.

“Fuck you” he scoffed.

“Maybe another time, I have things to do now. See you around, Landry” she winked before leaving the apartment. Suddenly, Y/N was ten times more interesting in Ethan’s eyes.

#ethan landry #jack champion x y/n #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #jack champion x reader #scream #ghostface #ethanlandry #jack champion #jackchampion #taylor swift #folklore #auras moonstone’s work

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bl00dsuccker · 10 months

Text

beginning, middle, end - e-42!miles

100% based of the iconic A Different World wedding scene

if you haven’t watched it, what are you doing with your life??

posting another ver for e-1610!miles because i love both of my bookies 😚

warning: google translated spanish

got spiderverse themed divider from @//saradika

even though it’s not implied, this was written with a black!reader in place so take that as you will <3

this is the song the title is based off of, you don’t have to listen to it but i love it

what were you doing? why were you doing this ?

you’d bullshitted your way into a relationship that served more harm than it did good. it was just supposed to be a placeholder, it was supposed to make him jealous, make him come to his senses instead of the usual, you going to him. you wanted it differently, but when 1 month turned into 1 year and that turned into 3…you knew he wasn’t going to come to you. he didn’t care as much as you thought or maybe his ego

the walk down the aisle was heart wrenching, and agonizingly slow. the big dress you wore felt like one hundred bricks and the eyes of everyone on you in the altar made it all the more worse. you had to force yourself to control your breathing as you neared your groom.

you want this. you want this. you want this.

you do not want this.

you want something completely different. you want someone completely different.

“you look beautiful, my love.” your groom said as he smiled. the name sounded so much different in english.

you gave him a small smile, not wanting to use your voice.

the preacher went on and on, the usual stuff about weddings and holy matrimony, but all you could think about was the man that you were not marrying, the man who had too much pride to right his wrongs, the man who gave you a goddamn headache, the man you wanted to just strangle until he got his sense returned to him, the man whose smile was very rare to see but when you did see it, you wanted to cherish it forever.

goddamnit, you weren’t supposed to be thinking about him at your own wedding! you weren’t supposed to be thinking about any man at your wedding.

“i do.” your groom answered the preacher.

shiiiit.

the preacher turned to you and began to talk about sickness and in health for richer for poor the who spiel and all you could hear was your beating heart and then silence, complete silence. no preacher talking, no talking of the vows, just eerie silence.

“baby?” the groom asked as he looked at his fiancée.

you snapped out of your trance to look at him, “hm?” you asked.

“are you okay?” he muttered.

no, you weren’t okay, but how could you tell your groom that? what could you even blame it on? cold feet? wedding day jitters? miles? no. you couldn’t blame it on anything. anything but being in love with someone other than your fiancée.

the more you went on being silent, the congregation started to murmur amongst themselves. whispers of ‘will she, won’t she’ and many other murmurs that were driving you crazy.

“what’s going on?”

“yeah!”

“are you gonna marry the guy or what?!”

the voices made you more anxious, the thought of speaking right now sent shockwaves through your body and you felt your mind start to race—

“will you, ma?”

a voice louder than the rest spoke out. the voice you’d been waiting to hear for 3 years, the voice you’d heard in your dreams, the voice you had reminisced about, daydreamed about. you turned around to make sure you weren’t dreaming him, and thank god you weren’t.

even at a wedding, he still donned his limited edition jordan’s he never looked finer in a suit and tie.

“te amo, hermosa y si me tienes, quiero que seas mi esposa. sé que no estuve allí, lo siento por no venir, antes era demasiado orgullosa pero no puedo vivir sin ti, hermosa, estaré mejor—” (i love you, beautiful and if you'll have me, i want you to be my wife. i know i wasn't there, i'm sorry for not coming around, i was too prideful before but i can't live without you, hermosa, i'll be better—)

“what is he even saying? get him out of here!” your groom yelled as a bunch of his groomsmen went to go grab miles.

“i’m telling her she don’t need to be with your ugly ass—get the hell off me!” miles yelled out and a slur or curses in spanish. you were so far in your mind that you hadn’t noticed miles’ uncle, aaron, getting up to defend his nephew.

miles had yelled your name as they all pushed him backwards, towards the door.

“will you have me, miles, as your lawfully wedded husband from this day forth? to have and to hold in richer for poorer? baby please, please!”

“i do!” you blurted out, not even needing time to think about your answer. the whole congregation gasped.

“what?” your groom looked at you, wide eyes. he tugged your arm so that you’d focus on him instead of miles who was no longer being pushed toward the door but instead he was breathing heavy and staring at you while the men that had tried to drag him out had stopped to look at you, all eyes were on you and this time, and it didn’t feel anxiety inducing.

“she said ‘i do’!” someone from the congregation yelled.

“but who the hell to?” someone else replied

“i…i’m sorry. i can’t marry you.” the emphasis on ‘you’ should have told him everything you need to know. you looked back at miles and tugged your arm away from your wilted groom.

miles had tugged himself away from the groomsmen & stared at you. you practically ran to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and locked your lips together. he’d wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up and turning you around.

to your surprise, most of the congregation applauded in celebration while the others left with the groom.

“well, is someone getting married or what?!” the preacher questioned.

“we are.” miles responded back as pulled away from you and set you down, grabbing your hand & making your way to the altar.

“by the power vested in me i now pronounce you man and wife you—“ miles had already leaned you over to kiss you before the preacher could finish his sentence. “—may now kiss the bride.” the preacher finished quickly. everyone clapped and cheered, you could see the cameras flash behind your closed eyes.

now this is what you wanted.

miles pulled you back up & looked at you with such love and affection.

“mi esposa.” he said to you before picking you up bridal style, causing you to giggle, and taking off down the altar.

this is definitely what you wanted.

#earth 42 miles #miles morales #e-42!miles #spiderman #across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #a different world wedding scene #atsv miles #miles morales x you #prowler miles #prowler miles x reader #bl00dsuccker

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 3 months

Text

The Lord of Dunholm

Note: this is just a silly little fic, obviously the legal details are off, but who cares.

Warnings: none.

pairing: SKMD!Sihtric x modern cop!you (f)

summary: you were called in to check out a situation at Durham castle.

wordcount: 7,9k

Masterlist

You were a rookie cop, desperate to prove yourself to your peers and to eventually earn a promotion. You knew you were doing a good job, but you were often forced to take those jobs that the experienced cops didn't like or simply felt too good for. One of those jobs was dealing with so called nutcases; people who often were innocent as they were usually simply confused because of their own mind, which wasn't their fault at all. They were a slight pain to deal with but someone had to do it, and today wouldn't be any different. You sat in your police car early afternoon when your radio sounded, and you heard the voice of one of your colleagues.

'There is an, ehhhh… caucasian male swinging an… axe and a sword outside of Durham castle. He has shoulder length hair, wavy and dark, he seems well built and he's wearing a brown… eh, fur cloak. Apparently his eyes are two different colours, one brown and one blue. He also has a large scar on his forehead and a smaller scar on his right cheek. You, eh, you really can't miss him, over.'

You stared at your radio, you knew this was a task for you as it sounded like once again someone had lost their mind, but since it was at a big public castle you thought it was a joke-

'This is not a joke and he is not part of the castle, over.'

You made a face at the radio and started your car, driving over to the castle to see what the fuss was all about. As you pulled up to the castle's parking lot you were greeted by frightened people who ran for their lives, on what was supposed to be a fun day out for them. It was complete madness and some of the panicked fathers pointed you in the direction of the axe and sword swinging "lunatic". You parked your car and then you saw him, exactly as he was described over the radio, not a word had been lied. You watched the rather handsome man shout angrily at the people who hid behind the glass windows of the ticket office, and then the castle's security guard ran up to your car. You were startled when the security guard banged on your car window as you were staring at the angry man near the entrance, and you rolled your window down enough to hear the guard speak.

'Thank god, you're here,' the guard panted, 'this guy has been here for half an hour already, claiming he's the Lord of Dunholm or something and he wants his land back.'

'What?' you scoffed, 'his land back? You're serious?'

'I swear I'm not making it up. He somehow got inside the castle and I found him when he was grabbing that axe and the sword off the wall. I managed to get him outside, you know, for the safety of the guests, but that's when he really lost his mind because he wasn't allowed back inside anymore. This guy is insane. I'm… I'm out of here,' the guard said, and he followed the other people that ran far away from the castle, leaving you baffled and rather confused.

You took a deep breath and got out of your car, then walked over to the "Lord", hand on your taser as you slowly approached him. You managed to sneak around him without being noticed while he had his back turned towards the entrance, looking wild and confused at the people who filmed him with their cellphones. This wasn't your first rodeo with a violent person, but something made you a nervous wreck out of nowhere as you got a better look at him, and you tried your best to keep your voice from trembling.

'Sir!' you shouted, earning his attention, and he turned around to look at you with rage in his eyes, 'l-lower your weapons, sir,' you demanded, although not very convincing.

'I demand entrance!' the man grunted as he raised his axe.

'Lower your weapons!' you demanded again.

'I shall do no such thing, lady! I merely want access to my home, I do not wish to fight. Now stand aside!' the Lord yelled at you, but you didn't budge.

'Sir, lower-'

'I said stand aside!' he shouted again, heated.

'Sir, if you take one more step I have to taser you,' you warned him.

'What?'

'I will have to taser you, sir! What is your name?'

'Sihtric Kjartansson!' he snarled.

'Sihtric Kjartansson?' you frowned, that was the oddest name you had ever heard in this day and age.

'Son of Kjartan the Cruel, who used to rule here. I helped kill him a while ago and this place is mine now! So let me in or I swear I will ram this gate!'

'Okay, eh,' you cleared your throat, not really sure what to do with this man, 'S-Sihtric-'

'That's Lord Sihtric!' he hissed as he stalked towards you.

You took a few steps back when the threatening man neared you, and you ordered him to drop his weapons once again, but he didn't listen.

'Sihtric, I will tase you if you take another step closer! I mean it!'

You stared at him as he ignored your last warning, and you grabbed your taser. You pointed it towards the angry and lost looking man as he came closer, and with shaking hands you pressed the button, releasing the probes. You watched the probes attach to the wild man's clothing and sparks were flying, but the man didn't freeze and fall due to the shocks he received. In fact, nothing seemed to happen, he only seemed to stop walking to look down at the probes and the several sparks that were created.

'Holy shit,' you gasped as you stared at Sihtric, who was still standing and you both stared at the useless pulses from your taser.

You wondered how much drugs this guy had taken to be completely oblivious to the shocks your weapon created, and you watched Sihtric with your jaw dropped as he threw down his sword to yank the probes off his cloak, and he threw them on the ground while they were still giving off shocks. You slightly panicked as Sihtric stepped closer, still holding his axe which he was about to raise as he got within an arm's reach from you. But then he suddenly stopped and froze, he clenched his jaw while a strangled moan sounded in his throat as his left eye twitched. You stared at him with big eyes and then realised he had stepped onto the probes with his boots, which were old and worn and apparently not thick enough to withhold the pulses of your taser, and he collapsed to his knees. He fell forward as your taser gave one last shock, which caused a few more sparks to fly, and then everything became silent.

With the help of some backup you had managed to get Sihtric handcuffed and in the back of your car. He was still rather dazed from receiving the taser stun and you could tell he was not pleased as you saw he was glaring at you from the backseat whenever you looked in your mirror. He didn't speak at all, but you could tell he became more confused and frightened the more he became clear headed again, and you wondered why he looked so spooked.

At the station you struggled to get him out of your car. You had opened the door for him but Sihtric simply refused to get out, unless he got to speak to your king. You said you couldn't possibly arrange that, but that he could speak with your superior. Sihtric refused your offer and said, 'I will not set foot out of this carriage, lady.' You once again had to ask for some help from your colleagues, who were rather amused at your catch of the day.

When you finally had Sihtric in a holding cell, you grabbed a chair and sat across from him, as it was now your job to figure out who this guy was and what he wanted, but it turned out to be more complicated than you expected. You had searched him for any form of ID, but he had nothing on him except for a small sachet with silver coins in it, which had no value to you unless you planned on opening a medieval coin museum. After searching him you also understood why the taser didn't work when you first fired it, as he was wearing leather armour underneath his fur cloak, which raised even more questions.

'So, Sihtric,' you said, 'tell me what happened today, hm? Why were you swinging your weapons at the castle?'

'Because it is my land,' Sihtric hissed.

'Your land? Why do you believe it is your land?' you asked, confused yet mildly entertained.

'I fought for it, it is my land. I own it.'

You stared at Sihtric and exhaled sharply, realising you weren't going to get a clear answer on your first question.

'Tell me where are you from?'

'Dunholm.'

'Dunholm?'

'Yes, lady. I am the Lord of Dunholm.'

'Do you mean… Durham?' you furrowed your brow as you looked at him.

'What?'

'You are from Durham?'

'I am from Dunholm, lady,' Sihtric said, agitated, and he tugged the handcuffs you had chained to the table, 'release me. Release me at once or there will be consequences!'

'I'm… afraid I can't do that. Where did you get your weapons?'

'I bought them.'

'Where?'

'In Bebbanburg.'

'Bebban-,' you stopped and shook your head, once again confused, 'you mean Bamburgh?'

'I said Bebbanburg, lady,' Sihtric hissed again and leaned over the table, like a predator eyeing up his prey, 'do you not understand me? I have bought them but found them placed up on a wall inside the castle. I do not know how they got there, but I retrieved them.'

'And how did you get inside the castle?'

'I live there. I simply stepped through a door and suddenly… suddenly everything was the same but also very different. And then I saw my weapons, which I took, and then some man began to tell me I could not touch my weapons. I told him to make the square but instead he forced me outside,' Sihtric sighed, 'and then they would not grant me entry again.'

You weren't sure what to say. You indeed did not quite understand him, but you couldn't tell him that, he could use that to his advantage and you really didn't want to screw up the possible case you had in your hands.

'Okay, I'm going to need some prints,' you said and reached for his hands.

You were startled when Sihtric suddenly flinched and yanked his hands away from yours, hurting his wrists in the process due to the handcuffs, and when you looked into his eyes you felt your heart break. You suddenly realised that this man was not fooling around and you believed he was not lying. You could read people, it was your main talent, and Sihtric's mismatched eyes spoke the truth. He was terrified but didn't show it on his face, and he felt utterly lost and confused, you could tell, but he would never confess that to you or anyone else.

'It's okay,' you said, calmly, 'I'm not… I won't hurt you. I promise.'

Sihtric looked at you with his big eyes, which were completely fixated on you as you got up and moved your chair next to his. You could tell he was hesitant to believe you, so you tried to explain to him what you were going to do.

'I need to take your hands and press your fingers onto this ink pad, okay? And then I will press your fingers on this piece of paper,' you said and pointed towards the tools on the table.

You waited for Sihtric to take in your words, and when he slowly nodded for you to go ahead, you reached out for his hand again. This time he didn't pull away, as you approached him slowly, and he allowed you to take his hand and press each of his tattooed fingers onto the ink pad and then on the paper. You carefully collected his prints, and you felt your cheeks heat up slightly as a strange sensation rushed through your stomach each time you touched him. And Sihtric didn't seem to mind your gentle touch either, as he just stared at you with wide eyes while you both felt the air become thick inside the holding cell. You sat back after you had collected all his prints and cleared your throat, breaking the tension that lingered.

'I, eh, I will run these now. I will be back in a moment.'

You were quick to get up, and as you waited for his results to come up and expose who Sihtric really was and where he came from, your mind kept wandering off to his pretty duo-coloured eyes, the feeling of his rough hands and the sound of his warm, smooth voice. You were intrigued by him, but as he was somewhat of a problem right now, your problem to be more specific, you cursed yourself for thinking he was incredibly handsome.

'It's always the weirdos,' you sighed as you remembered your poor track record of ex-boyfriends.

You were abruptly pulled from your thoughts when the results came in, and you were confused when the screen showed you that zero matches had been found.

'Surely this guy has a record already,' you muttered and ran his prints again.

You scoffed when the results were negative again, and you grabbed a DNA swab kit on your way back to the unknown man you had tasered about an hour ago. You also brought Sihtric a plastic cup of water, as you noticed his lips were rather chapped when you sat close to him so you figured he could use some fresh water. You placed the cup in front of him, and Sihtric carefully inspected the white plastic while you prepared your DNA kit. And just as you looked up and wanted to explain how you were going to swab his DNA, you saw how Sihtric leaned in and reached for the plastic cup. When his face was almost close enough to take a sip, he grabbed the cup firmly as if it was a jug of ale, and a shocked gasp left his mouth when the cup crushed under the pressure of his grip, and the water splashed in his face, his hair and over his cloak. He looked surprised and stared at you while the water dripped down his face, and he only blinked when you desperately tried to hold your laugh. You quickly got him some tissues and helped him dry his face, his hair and his cloak while he was still handcuffed to the table.

'Thank you,' Sihtric mumbled shyly when you sat back again, 'it seems I am not aware of my own strength.'

'That must be it,' you chuckled and fought a grin.

He was the most peculiar man, and a charming one too, but it seemed he was also not the brightest, which amused you greatly.

'Anyway,' you said and moved closer to him again, 'the fingerprints were no success, so I'll have to take a DNA sample.'

'A what?' Sihtric leaned back quickly when you held up the swab stick, and he looked at the stick as if it was something foreign, 'where does that go, woman?' he asked mortified, 'what does it do?'

'I will take a sample from the inside of your cheek. It doesn't hurt, I promise.'

Sihtric gave you a confused look, and you didn't know how else to explain it to him.

'You… you just need to open your mouth for me,' you said.

'By the gods, lady,' Sihtric scoffed, 'those words have never been spoken to me before by a woman.'

'Excuse me?'

'I usually tell a lady to open their m-'

'Okay!' you quickly interrupted, 'I think we are speaking of two different things here. Just, Christ,' you groaned, 'open your mouth, please.'

Sihtric gave you a sudden cheeky grin, and he politely obeyed. Your own mouth went dry and your heart was beating with such force you heard it in your ears as you gently held his chin while you took a sample. Sihtric made a face when you were done, and he awkwardly pressed his tongue in his cheek and then licked his lips repeatedly at the odd feeling the swab stick had left him. You thanked him and hoped he didn't see your flushed face before you quickly left the room again to run his sample.

When moments later you once again received zero results, you turned to your boss for help. You explained to him the situation and told him everything that had happened. You couldn't confirm who Sihtric was, nor where he was from or where he lived, all you knew was that he hadn't actually threatened to kill people and he hadn't harmed anyone. He just seemed… not from this time. After quite some time of discussion about what to do next, you were told you had to let Sihtric go as you couldn't charge him. Sihtric was about to be a free man again, but he just couldn't have his weapons back and he had to come back within a week to show his passport and a proof of residence.

'Will you be okay out there?' you asked while you uncuffed him, 'where will you go?'

Sihtric shrugged lightly and told you he didn't know yet, which didn't sit well with you. Regardless of your gut feeling, you released the insanely handsome "Lord" and guided him out of the police station. You watched him as he crossed the street, completely ignoring the traffic light as he continued to walk, and you held your breath when he almost got hit by a car, after which you heard him shout to the shocked driver to make the square. Whatever that meant.

Hours later when your shift was over you drove home. On your way back you passed Durham castle, and you couldn't believe your eyes when you saw Sihtric sitting almost completely in the dark, under a tree, near the closed castle entrance. You stopped your car and slowly approached him by foot while his eyes were glued to the castle.

'Sihtric?'

He jumped and looked up, his eyes telling you he felt caught.

'Lady,' he said and cleared his throat.

'What are you doing here?'

'Nothing,' Sihtric replied, a little too quick for it to be innocent.

'Sihtric,' you chuckled and looked at the castle entrance, 'surely you weren't planning on climbing the walls, were you?'

'No, I'd need a ladder for that,' Sihtric grumbled and shook his head.

You stared at each other and then both broke into soft laughter. You looked at him and his body language, and when adding it up to everything that had happened that day as well as the way he spoke and dressed, you couldn't help but feel that he had never lied to you about anything he had told you. And slowly your laugh made place for a saddened, concerned look.

'This really is your land, isn't it?'

Sihric gave you a sad nod, 'It is, yet I don't truly recognise it. Nor the people who live here now. It is the same but also… not. And I don't understand it.'

'I don't understand it either,' you gave him a compassionate look, 'but, Sihtric, you can't stay here. Soon the temperature will be below zero.'

'But this is my home, lady. I have no other place to go.'

You looked around the empty parking lot and sighed. Your next move went against everything you've learned and believed, but you couldn't just leave him like that. You hesitantly told him to get in the car, which he initially did not want to do because he thought you were going to handcuff him again. When you finally convinced him, after several long minutes, you drove him to the nearest hotel and walked up to the welcome desk.

'I would like to book one room for this man for a few nights,' you told the hotel employee.

Everything seemed fine for a moment. Sihtric was just gazing around the place while you filled in the form for his stay, but you froze when you saw that the person who paid for the stay was held responsible for the state of the room. You weren't going to stay there with him, in one room, but you also worried about leaving him alone now that everything would come down on you. He carried no more weapons but you still had no idea what he was capable of, and having to pay for a trashed hotel room was not something you wanted to do in your free weekend. And since the payment was in your name, if he would do something worse than just trash the room and perhaps harm someone, it could even cost you your job. You apologised to the hotel employee and told her that maybe it was better if he resided somewhere else, and you left. Sihtric didn't quite understand what was going on when you pulled him back to your car, but he got in regardless.

'What is this carriage?' he eventually asked as you drove him to your house.

'This is a car.'

'Car?'

'Yes.'

Sihtric looked at you but didn't say anything anymore, and then he just stared out of the window. When you finally walked him to the front door of your house, you stopped and turned to him before you opened the door.

'Look, you can stay in my house for a day or two, but there will be some rules. Don't forget that I can arrest you again if you do something weird or try anything with me, you got that?'

Sihtric nodded, not truly understanding you but he somehow had gotten to like your presence and you in general. Once inside you were greeted by your dog, Thor, an Alaskan Malamute, and Sihtric took several steps back when the dog approached out of nowhere. Sihtric watched how you knelt down and hugged your beloved pet, and he had to admit he was fascinated by the size of the animal.

'Impressive beast,' he said.

'Thank you,' you chuckled, 'he's my best friend, really.'

'How much, woman?'

'Excuse me?'

'How much for the dog?'

'Eh, he's… he's not for sale.'

'But I offer silver. I offer you twenty pieces of silver.'

'Sihtric,' you chuckled and got back up, 'he's not for sale. You can't buy him.'

'Very well,' Sihtric sniffed, 'how much for you, lady?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I am a man,' Sihtric shrugged, 'and I have needs.'

You scoffed and your mouth fell open at the audacity of him.

'You're a pig,' you said, disgusted, 'and you should be ashamed of yourself!'

Sihtric had been rather baffled at your insult, but he had forgotten about it all when he laid down on your couch after he had stripped himself down to his breeches. You had thrown him a blanket and told him to go sleep, you'd figure things out in the morning, and you also told him he was not allowed to get into your bedroom. You had left the door slightly open, knowing your dog was sleeping right outside of your room and if the strange man on your couch would try to harm you, Thor would not hesitate to attack. And with that thought you eventually fell asleep.

It was about ten in the morning when you woke up the next day, and when you slowly opened your eyes and blinked you were frightened when you found Sihtric staring at you as he sat crouched down next to your bed. A terrified shriek left your mouth and you both jumped up while Sihtric also yelped at your reaction.

'What the fuck are you doing?!' you screamed.

'I am sorry, lady!' Sihtric yelled as he had backed himself up against your book cabinet, knocking over a few titles.

'What is wrong with you!' you huffed and quickly covered yourself up with your blankets.

'I am sorry!' he said again, 'but a strange kind of sound woke me up a while ago already. I don't know where it came from.'

You tried to understand him and it took you a few seconds to realise he was woken up by your phone, as you had set an alarm for eight and had forgotten your phone on the table next to the couch. You then apologised and explained what had woken him up, and although he didn't fully understand it, he left it at that.

'But why on earth are you in my room, Sihtric?!' you yelled when you remembered you were still in your bedroom.

'Well, I was just admiring your beauty as I couldn't sleep, my lady,' he said with a sly smile.

'Oh,' you mumbled and blushed, feeling bad for having shouted at him while also still feeling slightly freaked out. But you couldn't deny you felt flattered too, as he was possibly the most handsome man you had ever seen, despite the fact that he smelled like mud and grass, and you said he should take a wash, to which he agreed.

'Also,' Sihtric said before he left your room, 'it seems that the beast has destroyed my boots in the night. I require a new pair.'

You had managed to gather some decent clothes for Sihtric because, luckily, your next door neighbour had some shoes in his size he could borrow until you'd get him new ones today, and he also had some black sweatpants to spare, as well as a grey hoodie. After Sihtric got dressed you took his hand and pulled him to the mirror, where he stared at himself and his messy hair. At first he looked concerned, but then he grinned.

'Not bad,' he chuckled and turned to give you a wink.

You shyly agreed, and then he suddenly took your hand and pulled you flush against his body. He wrapped his arms around you while he looked at both your reflection in the mirror.

'Hey,' you chuckled, 'what… what are you doing?'

'That's us, right?'

'Yes,' you said and looked at the mirror too.

You saw Sihtric's eyes light up as he took in the sight of you in his arms.

'We look good together,' he smiled shyly, 'marry me?'

'What?' your eyes grew wide.

'Marry me? You can be my lady. We'll be the Lord and Lady of Dunholm.'

'Eh,' you laughed and felt yourself blush heavily, 'that's… a bit unusual and fast, isn't it?'

You looked up at him, and before you knew it Sihtric had cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a firm kiss. You froze at the sudden feeling of his chapped lips onto your smooth ones, but when he didn't pull away you eagerly grabbed onto his borrowed hoodie and kissed him back. And barely even having recovered from kissing the handsome stranger, he already threw another question at you which you weren't prepared for.

'Will you stay with me?'

'What?' you paused and shook your head, 'Sihtric… I-'

'Please?' he asked, a spark of hope flickered in his eyes as he held you tight again while he stared into your eyes.

And instead of replying with words, something seemed to take over and you pulled him in for another kiss. And it seemed that ever since that moment Sihtric couldn't keep his hands off you anymore.

Sihtric clung onto your hand as you walked down the busy shopping street. Segways and electric scooters zoomed past you, to which Sihtric looked spooked and confused, and he jumped each time a car honked or a phone rang nearby.

'I don't understand,' he said, bewildered, 'there is so much noise. Why is there so much noise? And where are the horses? Why is no one riding horses?'

'Horses?' you laughed, 'horses haven't been used for transport like that for ages.'

'Ages?' Sihtric scoffed, 'lady, it has only been one day.'

You weren't sure how to respond, so you just squeezed his hand in the hope of giving him some comfort. You still didn't quite understand how he had ended up here, but that he somehow came from a different time than you was the one thing you were sure about. You continued your walk, hands locked together tightly, when suddenly you approached a market that had been set up for the weekend.

'Ah!' Sihtric smiled when he finally seemed to recognise something, 'a market!'

You strolled between the stalls, looking at the fruits, vegetables, clothing and some second hand items. Sihtric's eye caught a stall that sold shiny jewellery, and it was almost as if he had turned into a magpie. He couldn't be torn away from the stall and you looked around for a moment, while he continued to hold your hand as his eyes darted over the countless silver and golden rings.

'The town's office is around the corner,' you said and looked back at Sihtric, 'we should go there and request your passport before we get you new boots.'

Sihtric simply nodded and followed your lead, away from the market and around the corner. And there he suddenly stopped you and pulled you in, one arm around your waist while he held up a silver ring to you.

'For my lady,' he smiled with pride and a loving smile.

'W-what?' you gasped while Sihtric took your hand and placed the ring around your ring finger, 'I- wait,' you scoffed, 'where did you get this from?'

Sihtric didn't reply, he simply smiled and leaned in to kiss your cheek. You felt yourself weakened at his sweet smile and gesture, that it took you a moment to figure out he had stolen the ring from the market when you had looked away for only a few seconds.

'Sihtric!' you hissed, 'did you steal this?!' you asked and stared at him, but he once again didn't respond. 'Sihtric, you can't do that. I'm a cop… you…you can't… do this,' you swallowed hard when you stared into his eyes, getting lost in them.

'Okay,' Sihtric mumbled and shrugged.

And then he pulled you in for a kiss that made you forget and care less that he had stolen that ring just a moment ago.

It was quite the hassle to make Sihtric a registered citizen of Durham and to request a passport, but somehow it had all worked out and his passport would be ready by the end of next week. The employee thought Sihtric was an interesting and charming man, with an old soul. But she also thought he was quite strange though. Sihtric had proudly told the employee that you two were getting married soon, which you wanted to argue against but it turned out to benefit his situation, so you played along. It turned out to be awfully easy for you to pretend to be a loving partner, and it seemed that Sihtric also had no problem with it, and he kept his hands on you at all times.

After his passport was requested you finally went to get Sihtric new shoes. You felt bad that your dog had destroyed his medieval boots in the night, so you were more than willing to buy him a new pair. Well, you had to buy them for him anyway as he had no money on him, except for the little sachet with silver coins that he carried in the pocket of his sweatpants. In the shoe store it became clear once again that Sihtric was a peculiar man, as he was overwhelmed by the amount of shoes he saw and he thought they all looked quite weird, he clearly still had to get used to modern shoes. He ended up liking a pair of horrible cowboy boots, and it took you a lot of persuading to change his mind and look for some simple ankle boots. He reluctantly went with you as you pulled his hand, creating a distance between him and the cowboy boot section, to the modern looking boots,and eventually he picked out a pair of black boots to try on.

'And?' you asked, hopeful.

'They are of fine quality,' he said as he checked them out in the mirror.

'They are,' you agreed, 'and they look good on you too.'

Sihtric smiled and reached into his pocket, 'How much silver?'

'What? Oh, Sihtric,' you shook your head and laughed, 'you can't pay with that silver of yours.'

'Why not?' he asked, offended, 'I earned it. Perhaps stole some of it,' he shrugged, 'but it is of value.'

'Not here-'

'It is of value, lady. I am a wealthy man.'

You sighed and looked around the store, trying to think of a way to make him believe his silver was indeed valuable, while he stared at you intensely.

'You're right,' you smiled, 'why don't you hand me the silver, and I will pay for you?'

'Hand you my silver? You are not yet my wife,' Sihtric scoffed, 'are you after my silver only? Because I have dealt with a-'

'No, no,' you said quickly, 'I, eh, sometimes they give ladies a discount here,' you lied.

Sihtric frowned and thought about your answer, then looked almost impressed and handed you the sachet. 'Very well,' he smiled.

You grabbed the silver and told Sihtric to stay back for a moment. At the checkout you emptied the sachet in your purse and you paid for his shoes with your credit card. You walked back to him with "his" purchase, and he was shocked that the shoes had cost him all of his silver.

'Yeah,' you sighed as you walked back to your car, hand in hand, 'the economy these days is really something.'

'Economy?'

'Yeah, it's… you know what? It's better if you don't know about it,' you smiled and kissed his cheek, after which Sihtric easily dropped the brand new topic to him.

On the drive back from the city to your home you passed the castle again, and just like the first time you passed it you noticed Sihtric stared at the castle with a saddened look, and then looked down at his feet while he fidgeted with his rings, which he had already when you found him, so you were sure those weren't stolen. At least, not stolen from the market.

'Hey, maybe we can visit the castle tomorrow?' you suggested.

'Do you think they'll let me in?'

'If you behave, yes.'

You gave him a cheeky smile, which brought a smile to Sihtric's face too, and he reached for your hand.

'Yeah,' he said softly, and kissed your hand, 'I'd like to go there tomorrow with you.'

Back home, Sihtric came up behind you while you were cooking dinner, and he snuck his arms around your waist, resting his chin upon your shoulder.

'What are you brewing, my lady?'

'I am cooking pasta,' you said, feeling yourself blush again at his closeness.

For a stranger you were already awfully attached to him. You fought the butterflies in your stomach with no luck, as you melted at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his lips grazing your ear as he spoke.

'Pasta? What is pasta?'

'It's, eh… a surprise,' you turned around and smiled at him, 'I think you will like it.'

Sihtric looked curiously at you and then back at the pan.

'Okay,' he chuckled, 'I trust you.'

'You… do?'

'Mhm,' he hummed and pulled you into his chest, 'you're staying with me, right?'

'Right,' you said after a few seconds, hiding your smile as you pressed your face into his hoodie and enjoyed the feeling of his strong arms around you. And Sihtric was happy to have trusted you, because he thought that the pasta you had made him was the best food he had ever tasted in his life, and he said he'd want it for breakfast too, and lunch as well.

When it was time to go to bed you told Sihtric to hide his shoes in the hallway so the beast wouldn't destroy them again. Sihtric did as you told him and he went to lay on the couch, just like the night before. You looked at him as he pulled the blanket over his clothed body, and you suddenly felt bad for him. He was clearly still rather lost and confused, but he seemed to feel at ease when he was close to you, and you couldn't deny that you felt at ease with him too and wanted to keep him close all the same.

'Why don't you… I mean,' you stammered, 'you could- we could maybe s-share my bed?'

You didn't have to repeat yourself, as Sihtric was quick to jump up from the couch. He was rather fast to make his way into your bedroom where he took off his sweatpants, followed by his hoodie, and you gaped at his physique now that you saw it for the first time.

'My lord,' you mumbled at the sight of his muscular body, and you quickly climbed in bed next to him, hiding the blush on your cheeks.

Sihtric hadn't heard you as he was getting comfortable in your bed, and he seemed rather amazed at the soft mattress and sheets, but especially the pillows. He looked overjoyed while he explored the feeling of the fabrics and eventually laid down with a grateful smile on his face, then he turned to you. You were too shy to turn and face him, so you just stared up at your boring ceiling, completely frozen next to him. After a few long minutes of feeling just his eyes on you, Sihtric slowly brought his hand up to your face and began to trace your skin gently and slowly with his fingertips. You felt yourself blush even more, and your heart skipped a few beats while your core began to heat up quickly as he continued to explore your neck and shoulders with his fingers too.

'My lady,' he whispered and pulled you closer with one swift move.

He kissed your cheek and gently took your chin, forcing you to look at him, and then he softly nuzzled your nose and kissed your lips. You weakened at his touch and warmth, and succumbed to him within seconds when he slid his tongue in your mouth as he slowly and passionately kissed you. Soon you felt his warm, rough hands move up under your night dress, which he then took it off. Without any words spoken you pulled him back in and kissed him with a hunger you had never felt before. Your hands moved up into his loose, wavy hair, and Sihtric smoothly rolled you over on your back and positioned himself on top of you, between your parted legs.

'I don't even really know you,' you giggled, completely smitten.

'But you will,' Sihtric whispered, just as smitten as you.

The next morning you woke up with Sihtric next to you, comfortably sleeping as he had one arm wrapped around you and his legs tangled with yours. You couldn't believe you had been intimate with a man who was actually a complete stranger, but everything just felt right for some reason. And at least you weren't a full idiot and you had done everything safely, which was another thing Sihtric had to get used to, but he hadn't complained.

You fixed some breakfast while Sihtric got dressed in his new clothes, and soon you found yourself at the entrance of Durham castle, where it all had all begun for you two. Sihtric had braided his hair today and, as he was not wearing his armour, he did look like a different man than the one who had swung his sword and axe while he demanded entrance just two days ago. The security guard stared at Sihtric as you walked past him, but luckily he didn't say anything and you quickly hooked your elbow with Sihtric's, making your way inside the castle.

Sihtric looked stunned the entire time you walked through the old passages and the courtyard. He somehow knew every room and hallway, which told you he truly hadn't been lying these past few days. And as you held hands he told you more about his life. He told you about his slave mother and his father, Kjartan the Cruel, as well as stories about his half brother, Sven, and the horrors those two men had brought upon others.

'Is that why you helped kill your father?' you asked, cautiously.

'Yes,' Sihtric said curtly.

'Did it bring you peace?'

'Not quite as I had hoped,' he confessed, 'but it does not matter.'

You walked further and ended up looking at a large painting of a family tree. You saw all the names Sihtric had mentioned, and eventually you spotted his name, which left you breathless. You took a closer look at the painting while Sihtric took a few steps back to look around the great hall you stood in.

'I'll be damned,' you whispered as you read the information plaque next to the painting, which told you everything Sihtric had just told you, but less detailed.

You turned to look at Sihtric and saw he had his jaw clenched while his eyes had teared up.

'Hey,' you whispered and wrapped your arms around him, 'what's wrong?'

'I… my life,' Sihtric swallowed hard as he looked around, 'my life is… gone. As is my home, it seems, and everyone I ever knew,' he sniffled, 'and I don't understand it. I walked through that door,' he said and pointed towards the door you had just walked through, 'and I just ended up here… lost.'

'I wish I could explain it to you,' you said and fought your own tears, 'but I truly don't understand it either. Strange things happen, that is true, but I have never heard of anything like this, like what happened to you. And I am sorry, Sihtric.'

'Will you stay with me?' he asked again as he held you tightly wrapped in his arms.

'I will,' you promised, 'if you stay with me.'

'Of course,' Sihtric smiled weakly and wiped a tear, then cupped your cheeks and kissed your lips.

First it was just a peck, but then it turned into a longer kiss, and only moments later you were passionately making out in some hidden chamber Sihtric knew of. His hands roamed all over your body while you unzipped his black jacket, but then it dawned on you that you were in public, even though no one could see you in the seemingly secret room.

'Wait, wait,' you tried to catch your breath, 'we- we can't do this, not here, not in public.'

'I have often humped in public,' Sihtric chuckled and shoved his hands under your shirt and brought his lips to your neck.

'No, no,' you desperately tried to be the stronger person, 'it's not… it's not allowed. We can get a-arrested. We can't… we can't fuc- hump in public.'

'We can,' Sihtric almost growled as he smiled and pushed you up against the cold wall.

'No,' you giggled, 'Sihtric, we really can't.'

'Then where?' he asked, impatiently.

'Well, eh, at home I guess, my home I mean, but-'

'Then we shall go.'

About two hours after your visit to the castle you laid in your bed with Sihtric, both completely naked while the bed sheets covered your bare skin. You mindlessly played with the pendant around his neck while you looked at him. Sihtric smiled at you, his cheeks still rosy from the intense love making that had occurred not too long ago, like yours.

'Would you… go back if you could?' you hesitantly asked after a moment.

'In time?' Sihtric said, 'I'm not sure. I don't know how I could go back, and even if I found a way, I don't know how much time has passed there. I don't know if I would go back to where I came from and if everything would still be the same,' he paused for a moment, then asked, 'do you want me to go?'

'No,' you whispered as you played with his hair, 'I don't want you to go, not at all. But I just wonder if you can adjust here.'

'Maybe,' he shrugged lightly and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, then held your chin, 'if I have you with me, then yes, I think I could adjust. But it will take time. Everything is strange and new and… scary.'

'I can't imagine,' you said and cuddled up to him, 'just know you are safe here. No more battles for you to fight here, and no one who wants to hurt you.'

Sihtric hummed softly and smiled.

'Lady,' he whispered, to which you looked up at him, 'I was serious the other day. I wish to marry you.'

'Sihtric,' you chuckled and bit down on your lip, 'how about we first get you that passport next week and then find you a job?'

2 months later.

Sihtric smiled as he walked up to your car. He had just finished his first day at the job you had landed him at the castle. You had told the staff that Sihtric was a descendant of Kjartan the Cruel and that knew all about the castle and its history, which is why he would be perfect to give tours. After a few days of consideration, the castle's management agreed to give Sihtric a chance, under the condition that he would work the first week for free, to make up for his behaviour the first time he had set foot on the land which had led to the castle having to close for the rest of that day.

Sihtric hopped in the car and immediately leaned in to give you the sloppiest kiss you had ever received, as if you had been separated for months, while it had only been about seven hours.

'Hey,' you chuckled.

'Hey,' Sihtric smiled and kissed you again, 'I missed you.'

'I missed you too,' you said, 'how was work?'

'Great,' he said with a beaming smile, 'they want me to give the tours in armour tomorrow.'

'Really?'

'Yeah, they just don't want me near the weapons,' he sighed.

'I can see why,' you snorted, to which Sihtric gave you a death stare, but he then also chuckled as he remembered how he had endangered the visitors upon his arrival that first time.

'Anyway,' Sihtric said as he put on his seatbelt, 'how was your day, sweetling?'

'It was fine,' you said as you drove off the parking lot, 'no one swung with a sword today,' you taunted.

Sihtric laughed and knew it was better to not take the bait.

'Hey,' he then said, 'I've been thinking.'

'About what, love?'

'We should get married at the castle,' Sihtric said and took your hand, 'where we belong, together, as Lord and Lady.'

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#sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #tlk #sihtric #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #tlk fic

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bbobpul · 8 months

Text

break my heart again 2 — njm

PAIRING. na jaemin x reader SUMMARY.how's jaemin gonna give back for all of y/n's efforts now that he finally can? it's been years—just how much has everything changed? GENRE. angst, fluff, she fell first 🤭 W/C. 3.5k NOTE. hello, part two is here! so sorry i couldn't make a taglist. i didn't have time to make one. nevertheless, i hope this fic make its way back to you. love u all and thankies sm !!!! also, my requests are open !!!

(⁠☉⁠｡⁠☉⁠)⁠!⁠→ my other works !!!!!! part one here!!

i find it hard to picture myself ever being as dedicated to something or someone again, just like how i dedicated my entire college life to na jaemin.

lately, i've been feeling like i forgot what it's like to actually have a dream. back then, na jaemin was my dream, he was my driving force. i would force myself to wake up so early in the morning just so i could see him (or his car) enter the gates of the university. i would go to school even though i am sick and feel a lot better when i get home because i saw na jaemin. but now two years after graduating, i still haven't found a decent job that i actually enjoy.

it's a common experience that many people go through, and i suppose i shouldn't complain about it. maybe i need to put in more effort and push myself harder. part of me wonders if having na jaemin back in my life would rekindle that same sense of dedication that i once had. but as i say these thoughts out loud, they sound absurd, even to myself. why would i wish for my first love to return just so i could find a decent job? why would i long for na jaemin to come back merely to feel that spark in my life again? it's puzzling why i'm even dwelling on thoughts of him and wondering if he holds the key to my happiness and success.

oh, to dream.

oh, for that old dedication to still burn within you.

if only you hadn't acted so dumb that day. could life have taken a different path? are you even happy now? if you hadn't let fear hold you back back then, if you'd actually been brave enough to listen and follow through, would you be happier today?

but no matter how much you keep bothering yourself with that memory, if people come up to you and ask if you feel bad about everything that happened that day, you'd say no. you don't feel bad at all.

deciding to let him go was one of the best things you did. he seemed happy when you left, and after that, you never heard anything about him. he's like a touchy subject in your group of friends, which can be tough sometimes since you share friends. but does it really matter now? him not being in your life probably means he's happier and more peaceful, right?

are you feeling peaceful? is being stuck in a 9-5 job that hardly brought you joy a happy situation? scratch that. did being in that job make you happy? clearly not, as you've just mustered the bravery to quit. and in doing so, you've never felt more joyful.

did you really make the right decision?

just as you were pondering your own question, your phone buzzed on the bedside table. you grabbed it and saw that the caller was renjun, your incredibly patient best friend.

"y/n," he said, his tone becoming unusually serious. "what's up?" you asked. "do you need money?" "yeah?" "here's the deal: our college is putting together a documentary film, and they've chosen your department. but guess what? your old classmates are bombarding me with messages because it looks like you're ignoring them all. frankly, i can't believe you even answered my call," he griped. "wait, hold on. what film? and why would they pick me? are they searching for someone with a post-college life so sad that it belongs in a documentary?" "well, you were practically a legend back in college, so… and apparently, the director specifically wants you, which leads to… well, another issue…" "what's the problem now?" "it's going to be directed by jaemin."

and just like that, you ended the call. but a few seconds later, renjun's call came in again.

"i'm not going to do it." "you stubborn brat." "why him?" "i have no idea!" "why is he even directing? wasn't he studying architecture or something?" "i don't know, y/n. i haven't heard a single thing about him since your graduation." "what do you mean?" "that's not important now, y/n. you're in need of money, right? seize the opportunity. do it for the cash." “so will you do it or will you do it?” “for the cash.”

...

"y/n, you've moved on, haven't you? what's done is done. i'm pretty sure jaemin has forgotten all about it. this chance is coming your way, so just accept it." "i guess i will."

you're drawn in by the idea of making some extra money and the possibility of catching the eye of potential agents or employers. right now, you're at a crossroads, thinking about how this documentary could be a stepping stone to more job opportunities down the line. this situation is different from what usually drives you – this time, it's not about others, it's about focusing on your own goals and aspirations.

you're deliberately avoiding dwelling on your past. just as renjun mentioned, you've moved beyond it. what's done is done. right now, your focus is firmly on the present and the potential that lies ahead in the future.

what's in the past is behind us, including whatever existed between jaemin and you.

from renjun

tomorrow at lunchtime, they'll be going over the schedules and discussing what to film. if you want, you can chat with the director now. his number is 0825 813 2000.

in response, you simply replied with a "okay."

the night before the lunch meeting, a jumble of emotions has you in its grip. the idea of reconnecting with jaemin, who used to be your best friend and is now someone distant, fills you with a sense of awkwardness. you tell yourself that this is about working together and the chance to grow professionally.

after taking a deep breath, you decide to shoot jaemin a text. your fingers hesitate as you type, and the uncertainty you're feeling seems to seep into your message. you finally press send, and your text reads, "hey, it's y/n. heard we're meeting tomorrow for the documentary. just wanted to check in before that."

in almost no time, your phone buzzes with a response: "hey y/n, good to hear from you. yeah, looking forward to our meeting. let's catch up and chat about the project."

the conversation is polite, but beneath the surface, there's an unspoken layer of complexity. you can feel the hesitation in your exchange, a silent recognition of the shared history that's now a distant memory. as you talk about the meeting and the documentary, the easy flow you once had is noticeably absent.

as the texts go back and forth, a sense of tension seems to hang in the air. it's as though the years of friendship you once had are casting a shadow over your conversation. the effortless connection you once shared now requires effort, and both of you can sense the change.

as the conversation wraps up with a simple "see you tomorrow," you're left with a mix of excitement and anxiety. the idea of seeing jaemin again, especially in a professional context, stirs up a range of emotions. this situation is a stark reminder of just how much things have changed – and maybe how some things can't go back to the way they were.

you believed the conversation had concluded, only for your phone to ring once more, bearing yet another message from him. as you read the words on the screen, "i missed you, y/n," a rush of emotions floods over you.

"what's going on with him?" you mutter to yourself, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion. your gaze remains fixed on the message for a moment, your attention drawn to the three blinking dots in the corner – a sign that he's in the process of typing a response. several more seconds tick by, the dots eventually vanishing, and in response, you shut your phone off. you make an attempt to settle into bed and get some rest, but truth be told, it's hard to claim you managed to sleep soundly that night. an undercurrent of thoughts and emotions keeps your mind restless.

the day of lunch lunch finally arrived. you sat across from jaemin, his words forming a distant hum as your thoughts remained clouded and preoccupied. the lingering impact of his recent message kept you in a state of unease, making it difficult to fully engage in the conversation he was leading.

then, something inside you snapped, and you found yourself abruptly interrupting him with a question that had been gnawing at you, "why me?"

he looked at you, his gaze steady, and his response was quick, "why not you?"

your frustration simmered as his words hit you. he was choosing to be cryptic, and it was only adding to your confusion. pushing past your exasperation, you pressed on, "listen, i know we didn't part on the best terms, but why come back now and act like everything's fine? i mean, sure, it's better than hostility, but why choose me? i'm the one who's no longer part of your life."

his expression remained neutral, void of any emotions as he replied, "that's not true."

you raised an eyebrow, challenging him to elaborate. "what's not true?"

"that you have nothing to do with my life, y/n," he stated firmly.

the weight of his words settled heavily between you two, the gravity of the situation growing more apparent. the lunch table had transformed into an arena for confronting unresolved issues.

you scoffed, unable to hold back your disbelief. "jaemin, i made one mistake, and now you're trying to imply that my actions shaped your entire life?"

his eyes held yours, unwavering. "y/n, it's not just about that one mistake. everything that followed, everything that shaped who i am today… it's all connected to you."

your mind reeled, trying to grasp the enormity of what he was suggesting. the complexities of your shared history seemed to crash over you, leaving you grappling with a whirlwind of emotions and a tangled web of unspoken feelings.

the weight of his words left you momentarily speechless, and in an attempt to shift away from the intensity, you sought to change the subject. "where are the other producers? why is it just you here?"

"y/n…" he began, his tone suggesting he wanted to continue the previous conversation.

however, you opted to sidestep the discussion entirely. you pretended as if the profound exchange hadn't just occurred. "i notice you're taking on the role of a director now. quite the career shift, huh?" you inquired, masking your internal turmoil with a casual demeanor. you acted as if there hadn't been a two-year gap in your connection, as though things between you were perfectly ordinary.

he met your gaze, a faint hint of something unreadable in his eyes. "i pursued another dream when i felt i'd lost the chance for my first one."

"your first dream… not architecture, then?" you prodded, curious about the direction he had taken.

he shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him, leaving you puzzled yet again. "no, not architecture. well, i suppose that just wasn't meant for me back then, but maybe it is now."

the cryptic nature of his response only added to the layers of confusion and intrigue that surrounded him. there was something about the way he spoke that hinted at deeper currents beneath the surface, emotions and experiences that he hadn't fully revealed. you found yourself torn between the desire to push for answers and the instinct to allow him his privacy. the lunch meeting had transformed into a stage for untangling not just the complexities of the documentary but also the intricate web of emotions and history between you and jaemin.

leaving the restaurant, a whirlwind of unanswered questions dances in your mind. yet, for now, you choose to tuck those thoughts away, focusing instead on the looming filming date just a few days away – next saturday.

in the span of time between that lunch and the upcoming shoot, jaemin proves consistent in his attempts to bridge the gap between you two. he regularly reaches out, updating you about his day and proposing get-togethers, which you consistently decline.

the days pass, marked by a series of messages and missed opportunities. despite the undeniable tension, there's an undeniable persistence on jaemin's part, a determined effort to reconnect and reestablish a sense of familiarity. however, your apprehensions and the memories of your past dynamics hold you back, keeping you from embracing his overtures.

as the countdown to the filming day continues, you find yourself in a delicate dance – balancing the unresolved history between you and the prospects of the future. the lines between your personal and professional lives are blurred, and the documentary project becomes a backdrop against which the intricacies of your relationship with jaemin play out.

you find yourself constantly pondering what his intentions could be. his actions leave you wondering, and you can't help but question what he's aiming for. in your perspective, you're merely a negative aspect of his life – a streak of misfortune. you would have expected him to have learned from the past, but his determination remains unshakeable.

as you contemplate these thoughts, your phone lights up once more, bearing yet another message from him. his name on the screen triggers a whirlwind of emotions – a mixture of uncertainty, annoyance, and a hint of curiosity. opening the message, you brace yourself for whatever he might convey this time. the consistency in his attempts at communication only serves to deepen the intricate web of emotions you hold for him, leaving you caught between your shared history and the unpredictability of the present.

"the offer's still there, y/n. :)" "jaemin, let's be real. just because i'm on board with your documentary idea doesn't mean we're suddenly best buds again. a lot has changed." "i want to reconnect, though." "actually, scratch that. i want to get to know you all over again." "jaemin, i appreciate the effort, but let's keep things professional, okay?" “i’m sorry, y/n. goodnight.”

after your straightforward message, his responses ceased. a silence settled in, stretching on until saturday – the day you were set to see him again. the anticipation and uncertainty had been building, and now the moment was finally at hand.

you stepped into the studio and immediately noticed that you and jaemin were the only ones present. your confusion must have been evident on your face, prompting him to address the situation promptly.

"um, the team thought having fewer people in the room would create a more personal atmosphere," he began, his voice carrying a hint of unease. "and, well, they decided to keep me here, you know, being the director and all, and also because we have a history…"

his words trailed off, and there was a subtle vulnerability in his tone. it was as if he was acknowledging the intricacies of your past connection, while simultaneously recognizing the complexities it introduced into your current dynamic. the studio, usually a place of creativity and collaboration, had transformed into a space laden with the weight of your shared history.

"it's okay," you responded, your words carrying a touch of reassurance. as your reply registered, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips – a detail you couldn't help but notice. after all, it was that very smile that had ignited four years of your life, a smile that held memories and emotions you had both shared.

"um, i'll just ask you a few questions, and then you're free to go," he stated, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness that didn't escape your notice. this new facet of his demeanor felt unfamiliar to you, a departure from the confident jaemin you had known.

you found yourself disliking this uneasiness, and a thought occurred to you – maybe it was time to rekindle something within him. as he began asking you questions, you decided to respond in a way that would evoke a certain familiarity between you two. it was a subtle attempt to bridge the gap, to draw out the person you once knew.

you had believed that his silence was what you wanted. you had convinced yourself that distancing yourself from him would protect you from the past mistakes. but now, facing the reality of the situation, you realized that perhaps a certain selfishness was ingrained within you. maybe, just maybe, you yearned to erase the distance, to defy your own rationalizations.

in this moment, you found yourself yearning to rekindle what had been lost, to bring back a connection that once meant so much. the conflicting emotions within you painted a complex picture of your desires – a battle between self-preservation and the longing for something more.

however, as you locked eyes with him and saw the lack of any discernible emotion in his gaze, a haunting wave of fear resurfaced within you. in that moment, it was as if time rewound, taking you back to the day of your graduation when your heart and spirit had felt shattered. the memory of that painful experience rushed back, accompanied by the doubts and uncertainties that had plagued you.

if you were to truly confront your own feelings, you'd admit that what you witnessed that night had left you questioning your own worth. the events had stirred up doubts about whether you had ever been deserving of taking risks for, whether you had ever been someone worth fighting for.

"hey, good morning, y/n."

"morning, director."

"how's today treating you?"

"pretty good, thanks."

"hmm, and what's life been like after college?"

"…"

"take your time."

"at first, i felt okay. my friends were all getting closer to their dreams, and i was genuinely happy for them. especially…"

"especially who?"

"especially the person i left behind."

"…"

"i was content being happy for someone else. then another year went by, and i wasn't feeling so great anymore."

"do you really think they're happy?"

"hmm?"

"the person you left behind."

"yeah. and my other friends seem happy too. they've got jobs they love, they're with people they care about, and i only had… renjun *laughs* … but sometimes, i can't help but feel like i'm the one who got left behind, you know? even though i was the one who walked away."

"let's talk about your person."

"oh *laughs* he's not my person."

pausing for a moment, you glanced at jaemin behind the camera. the question lingered in your mind: what was he trying to do? his actions and intentions remained a puzzle.

his expression grew serious, his gaze fixed intently on you. it was as if he had something to convey, something he was holding back.

"the last time i actually saw him was in an instagram post. he was with some girl. it happened on my graduation day. i waited the whole day, hoping he'd appear in the midst of the crowd. when he didn't, i held onto the possibility of seeing him by the gates. but that didn't happen either. my last hope was maybe he'd send me a single message, but by the end of the day, nothing came. then i went on instagram and saw a photo – a warning, i guess. a warning that i should just stop hoping. that… happened a few weeks later, i think. or maybe it was just a few days after our argument, the one where he told me he couldn't love… yeah."

you met his gaze and once again, his face was serious. his eyes were furrowed and his mouth was slightly open. a few moments passed, and he let out a shaky breath. screw it, you thought, it's out there now and i don't care anymore.

your silent exchange was interrupted as he shifted the camera away. confusion clouded your thoughts as you watched him move. he turned back to you, his expression still serious, and then he grabbed a chair from the nearby table. he sat down with his back facing you.

the room felt charged with unspoken emotions, leaving you to question his intentions and actions. it was as if he was peeling away layers, searching for something beneath the surface.

"did you know that…" he began, his voice breaking the silence. "she was his sister?"

"i never told you about her, that's on me," he admitted with a chuckle. "that was her last day, y/n. so i decided to spend the entire day with her. i'm sorry."

you were taken aback. "i'm sorry–"

"it's okay, y/n."

"i know i left you with so many questions that night, but let me tell you… every effort you made, every cookie you baked, i cherished all of it. i loved you. i'm sorry if my actions made you doubt yourself."

another pause filled the air.

"i left when you left."

"you were my dream. architecture wasn't really my passion, you know? i was struggling a lot, but luckily, you were there with me. i decided to chase after what i truly loved when you left, because i realized if i wanted you back in my life, it should be when i'm at my best, right? i wasn't lying when i said i couldn't love. i didn't want to love you when i was broken. i wanted to be the best version of myself for you. i thought that if i wanted you to be with the best person, then that should be me. so i became that person, a director, and then i planned all of this." his eyes finally met yours.

"i was always looking at you."

tears welled up in your eyes, and he seemed to notice. he took a step towards you and enveloped you in his arms.

"i'm sorry for not holding onto you back then, baby. but i promise, i won't let go of you now," he whispered.

"i'm sorry for leaving, jaemin," you sobbed.

"shh, you did what you thought was right."

"do you want to have lunch with me now?" he asked.

a mixture of emotions flooded your heart, and with a nod, you replied, "yes, jaemin."

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