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les4elliewilliams · 3 months ago

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❝SHE’S A MANEATER!❞

LOSER!ELLIE ﾒ MEAN!READER

❝OH-OH HERE SHE COMES WATCH OUT, GIRL, SHE’LL CHEW YOU UP!❞

ᝰ.ᐟ ⌞SUMMARY⌝﹕After bumping into you on her first day of college, Ellie spends the entire year captivated by you from a distance. You're everything she could never be—popular, wealthy, and effortlessly alluring, with a perfect, disgustingly rich family to match. Convinced she didn’t stand a chance, Ellie resigns herself to watching from the sidelines. But when her best friend Dina suggests they work at a public pool for the summer, Ellie agrees, hoping to save up some money. What she never expected was to find you there, commanding the space with a magnetic, dangerous charm that pulls her in. Now, Ellie’s summer is about to take a turn she never saw coming, and she’s about to find out just how close she can get to you before it all falls apart.

✶.ᐟ ⌞THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS⌝﹕ approx 16k words⨾ bullying⨾ cursing⨾ use of alcohol and drugs⨾ angst⨾ reader being a bitch for no reason⨾ 18+ CONTENT⨾ cunnilingus (��!receiving)⨾ semi-public sex ig?? (in the bathroom of their workplace)⨾ coworker!ellie⨾ dom!reader⨾ fem!reader⨾ player!reader x loser!ellie⨾ slapping⨾ jealousy issues??⨾ overstimulation⨾ ellie squirting (yumm)⨾ lmk if i missed anything!

.ᐟ.ᐟ ⌞AUTHOR´S NOTE⌝﹕this series took me forever to finish and almost deleted it because i had no motivation:3 the whole thing was supposed to be a quick one shot but its too long for that, i fear. (around 40k words) so i decided im gonna split it in two and make a sequel (for those who care); proofread by @sapphichotmess (i love you sm)

#.ᐟ ⌞TAGLIST⌝﹕ @pick-me-up-im-scared @rew1nds @aouiaa [comment to be added!]

#.ᐟ ⌞CHAPTERS⌝ ↯

˗ˏˋ 𝕠𝕟𝕖 ⋆ 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ⋆ 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ˎˊ˗

palestine masterpost ⋆ read this ⋆ daily clicks

Summer 2023, Santa Barbara.

23th of June.

The first year of college felt like it dragged on forever, with endless lectures, assignments, and late-night cram sessions that blurred into one exhausting marathon. But then, as if in the blink of an eye, it was over. Ellie packed up her dorm room, said her goodbyes, and headed home with the promise of a long, lazy summer stretching out before her.

The auburnette was a quiet introvert with a love for solitary activities, ready to kick back and relax. She loved this time of year—the bright, sunny days and the chilly, star-filled nights. The beach was her favorite place to unwind, where she could lose herself in the soothing rhythm of the waves crashing against the ancient shores and the feel of the sand between her toes. She loved soaking up the sun, letting its warmth seep into her freckled skin, and staying up late with her friends playing video games, adrenaline-pumping matches that promised to take all their sleepiness away, their laughter echoing into the early hours of the morning—or until Joel woke up to her yelling at random kids online and told her to turn it off, threatening to take all her consoles away.

But as the days melted into weeks, a sense of restlessness began to creep in. The once comforting routine now felt monotonous, and Ellie found herself craving something different, suddenly feeling unproductive. The pressure to change her routine was mounting, especially with Joel’s words ringing in her ears. He was dead serious when he told her she needed to stop being a lazy ass and start doing something with her life. He claimed that, by her age, he had already tried almost every job under the sun and didn’t want to see her wasting her days away.

At first, Ellie brushed off Joel's comments, but they lingered in the back of her mind, gnawing at her. Then, Dina chimed in, convincing her to join her and Jesse as lifeguards at the local pool. The idea seemed laughable to Ellie. She couldn’t imagine herself in such a role—standing on the pool deck, whistle in hand, ready to dive in at a moment's notice. But with nothing else on her plate and a growing desire to be productive, Ellie decided to give it a shot.

What could possibly go wrong, after all?

What else did she have to do? Absolutely nothing. And she figured she could always quit if things were really that bad. No harm in trying, right?

With a mix of nervousness and excitement, the young girl signed up for the lifeguard training course. The first few days were grueling—learning CPR, mastering rescue techniques, and memorizing safety protocols. She quickly realized that she enjoyed the physical challenge and the sense of responsibility that came with the role. Plus, spending her days by the pool wasn’t too far off from her ideal summer.

After a week of rigorous training, Ellie had finally reached a level where she felt ready. However, her confidence faltered when she discovered you were also working there. Every time she beheld you, your ethereal and almost unreal presence left her breathless. Her heart raced wildly, and a lump formed in her throat that threatened to strangle her. She knew who you were but doubted you even knew she existed. You were stunning and popular, seemingly out of her league. She felt like a total loser, a nerd invisible to every girl on the planet, except for those weird and jerky dudes she couldn’t stand. Her feelings of inadequacy were overwhelming, and you sure made her question her own worth and existence.

She saw you every day on campus, a sprawling green space bustling with students. You were always walking around with your group, a bunch of stylish individuals who cared a lot about their appearances, invariably decked out in expensive clothes. You were part of that clique, but she always felt like you were different somehow. Maybe it was how you looked at her on the first day of college when she accidentally bumped into you and made all your books drop to the floor.

Ellie remembered that moment vividly. The campus, with its towering oak trees and vibrant flower beds, had been buzzing with the energy of new beginnings. She had been rushing to her next class, preoccupied with a million different thoughts when she collided with you. Your books scattered across the walkway, and she dropped to her knees, frantically trying to gather them up while mumbling apologies. Your friends' disdainful looks made her cheeks burn with humiliation, but your reaction was entirely different. You crouched down, your fingers brushing against hers as you both reached for the same book, and you gave her a smile that was kind and understanding.

She couldn’t help but replay the moment in her mind, wondering if it had meant as much to you as it had to her.

Jesse’s constant teasing didn’t help. He loved to remind her of her awkwardness, mimicking how she stumbled over her words and nearly fell on her face right in front of you.

And now, seeing you standing there, the auburnette felt that same nervous energy bubbling up again. Your red lifeguard uniform clung to your body like a second skin, making her heart perform a series of pathetic, acrobatic flips. She watched you from a distance, marveling at how effortlessly you moved, how you seemed to command attention without even trying. You were a natural leader, confident and composed, while Ellie felt like a bundle of nerves just trying to keep up. A small part of her that hoped she might get to know you better, to see if that smile you had given her on the first day was a glimpse of something more.

“Oh shiii- she works here too?” Ellie looked to her best friend Dina, her eyebrows raised in surprise as she observed your every move. You casually blowing your whistle at a group of kids playing fights with crumbs of bread stood out to her immediately, watching in fascination as you effortlessly kept the children in line.

“Yeah, ‘course she does.” Dina couldn't contain a small snort of laughter as she pulled on a vibrant red T-shirt over her red bikini, its vivacious color standing out against her tanned skin. “She does every year,” she shared, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement. But how could she know this when all she did was immerse herself in gaming, hanging out with friends, and getting high rather than seeking part-time work to earn extra cash like every other 18-year-old?

She also found it perplexing that a wealthy individual like you would even bother working in the first place; after all, from what she had heard, you always got whatever you asked for from your father. She guessed that the only possible reasons you might have been working were to become more independent or to seek out something to occupy your time.

“Oh.” Her rosy pink lips formed a perfect 'o' shape, her surprise evident in how they parted. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She whispered loudly to her friend.

Dina's brow rose quizzically as she placed her hands on her hips. “Why, did you want to know?” Dina shot Ellie a doubtful look, the same disapproving glance she always gave her whenever Ellie expressed interest in a girl who ultimately turned out to be straight.

The redhead nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders, “No, but–” she was quick to cut her off before Ellie could come up with an excuse that wouldn't hold water. Her friend could read her like an open book, and she knew certainly what was going on just by witnessing the heart-shaped pupils of Ellie's eyes as they lingered on you from afar.

“–Nuh-uh. You’re just being a delusional lesbian again,” Dina called her out on it, and the freckled girl reacted almost dramatically, gasping at the brunette's accusation.

“Don’t give me that look,” she pointed a finger at Ellie, finger jabbing the air like a weapon of accusation. “You told me to stop you before you started falling for another straight girl, and that’s exactly what I’m doing right now. Calling you out on your shit.” Dina’s voice was firm and uncompromising, her words leaving no space for negotiation or debate. Her eyes, deep pools of golden-hued amber, narrowed into slits, fixed on her friend with a steely gaze. The young girl knew better than to argue with her best friend.

Deep down, Ellie knew Dina was right. Images of her previous “relationship” flashed through her mind—the heartbreak, the disappointment, the tears—all because some bi-curious girl had led her on, only to reject her in the end. Who was there to pick up the pieces and put her back together again? None other than Dina, of course. And Jesse, but he wasn’t that helpful.

The green-eyed girl crossed her arms over her chest and huffed in response, her frustration evident in her defensive body language. “But she smiled at me on the first day of college, remember? When I bumped into her and made her drop all her books?”

Dina rolled her eyes and let out a deep sigh, shaking her head in disbelief, she truly couldn’t believe how clueless and naive her best friend could be at times, or maybe she just pretended to be dumb as fuck; Dina wasn’t sure. “Ellie, she was just being nice. That doesn’t mean she’s into you.” frustration colored her voice.

A sigh left the redhead’s lips, her gaze trailing back to you, unable to keep her eyes from checking you out. Seeing you sent her thoughts astray, her heart racing as she studied your features once more. “I know, I know. But a girl can dream, right?”

“Yeah, dream away. Just don’t get your hopes up too high. We’ve got a job to do, so stop daydreaming about unattainable girls and go get changed.” The black-haired girl demanded, shifting her weight from foot to foot, her arms hanging by her sides.

Ellie nodded, trying to push aside her feelings of infatuation. She knew Dina was right, but it was hard to ignore the fluttering in her chest every time her hazel eyes landed on you.

The first day, Jesse showed the auburnette around, explaining all the rules she and everyone else had to follow—when to yell at people, when to blow the whistle, the regular stuff. Ellie wanted to talk to you, to introduce herself at the very least, considering you were colleagues now, but she didn’t have the guts.

How you walked around and carried yourself, it was almost as if you owned the place. You were so confident, and Ellie felt like a creep for not being able to ignore your presence. Her eyes naturally darted towards you, tracing every contour and inch of your exposed body, only covered by a red one-piece swimsuit. You looked like you were coming straight out of Baywatch, looking like every teenage boy’s dream... and hers, too.

She felt ashamed for not being any better than a man.

Ellie really tried to focus on what Jesse was saying, but her mind kept drifting back to you. She felt a mix of awe and frustration. How could someone be so effortlessly captivating? The way you moved, the way you interacted with everyone—it was like you belonged in a different league.

“Ellie, you with me?” Jesse’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” she stammered, feeling her cheeks heat up.

Jesse raised an eyebrow but continued. “Like I was saying, just remember to stay alert and don’t hesitate to step in if something looks off. We’ve got a good team here, so don’t worry.”

Ellie nodded, trying to absorb the information. She glanced at you again, noticing how you seemed completely at ease, chatting and laughing with the other lifeguards. The auburnette envied that ease, that confidence, something she seemed to lack. Ellie always felt out of place in moments like this. She tried not to be so shy and be more easygoing, but your presence felt almost intimidating. She couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy. You were so stunning, so composed, and she felt like a fucking loser in comparison.

24th of June.

Since she couldn’t bring herself to talk to you on the first day, Ellie tried again on the second, encouraged by Jesse’s comforting words, “Try not to look like a drooling loser when you talk to her,” He couldn't help but crack a smile at the almost imperceptible scoff she gave him in response. Her sun-kissed cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink, making her freckles look like tiny specks of stardust against a rosy sky. It was endearing how easy it was to tease her, and what Jesse found more endearing was how she couldn’t tear her attentive eyes away from you, tracking your every move like a hawk eyeing its next meal or an art connoisseur fixated on a masterpiece—almost as if you were the center of her universe, a celestial body she could orbit but never touch.

He knocked his shoulder into hers, sending her stumbling awkwardly and bursting her fragile soap bubble, scattering her thoughts into a chaotic mess. Startled and momentarily yanked out of her little barrier of daydreams and delusions, she mumbled defensively under her breath, “I’m not a loser.” Before she could gather herself, he was already striding away, heading toward a group of kids running around the pool, corralling them like a shepherd with a sharp blow of his whistle.

Her ivy-hued irises followed him for a moment before drifting back to you. You were conversing with an older woman, a beaming smile adorning your face as you nodded at her words every now and then; your hair framed your immaculate features in such a way that Ellie wanted to capture that moment forever. Something about your effortless beauty captivated her; you were so perfect that it made her wonder if you could possibly be real. Could you be just the result of her wild imagination? Possibly, yeah.

Ellie just lingered in the background, waiting patiently for an opportunity to approach you without interrupting your conversation. She had been acting busy, meticulously inspecting the pool to make sure everyone was following the rules, but her eyes kept drifting back to you. She couldn’t help it. When she observed you walking towards a plastic chair, sensing her chance, she mustered up her courage and approached you.

Don’t be a pussy, don’t be a pussy. Ellie repeated the words to herself like a mantra.

Her heart raced wildly as she walked towards you, her mind a whirl of anxious thoughts. What if she stumbled over her words?

With every step she took, the knots in her stomach grew tighter and tighter.

She kept debating with herself, inching closer and closer to you. Honestly, the thought of talking to you was unbearable. She knew she’d end up looking like a fool. Why was she even trying to get your attention? Wait, was that really her intention? Was she actually planning to make you like her? She huffed at her desperation.

Maybe she could just turn back and pretend you weren’t there. Like she didn’t see you every day at work.

As she continued her internal argument, your voice suddenly snapped her back to reality.

“Hey, you’re the new girl,” You exclaimed, taking a confident step toward the freckle-faced girl. She swore she could almost see the confidence pouring out of your every pore, her heart pounding wildly in her chest and palms becoming disgustingly clammy as her cheeks flushed, the relentless sun only making it worse. Being so close to you, Ellie noticed how each strand of your hair swayed with the gentle summer breeze that had decided to bless them on the disturbingly hot summer day.

There was no fucking way you noticed her, no fucking way you were talking to her right now. Ellie forced out a dry, awkward chuckle, “Y-yeah. Think that’s me,” she stumbled over her words, giving you a half-crooked smile, her eyes darting around nervously, avoiding direct eye contact. She felt ridiculous for not being able to maintain steady eye contact. Why did she have to be so embarrassing? Why was talking to pretty girls so fucking hard?

“Yeah,” you responded with a steady tone, in stark contrast to her shaky and almost timid voice. Your gaze shamelessly roamed over every inch of her, taking in every detail from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. A barely audible hum escaped your lips, “Ellen, right?” you inquired, your eyes locking briefly before the aubrunette looked away again.

“Ellie,” she corrected you shyly, her slender fingers absentmindedly tracing delicate patterns on the back of her neck.

“Why, what did I say?” you questioned nonchalantly, still studying her. She felt small and insignificant under your scrutinizing gaze, almost judged. All of a sudden, she felt so self-conscious about her looks.

“Nothing,” she mumbled, snorting quietly. Uncertain of what to do next and feeling almost scared of contradicting you, she hesitantly reached out her hand toward you. Your inquisitive eyes locked onto her veiny hand, studying it for a few moments before finally shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”

Starstruck eyes stared right back at yours, and a wide grin that never left her face. She felt a rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins as she held your hand, letting it linger a bit longer than necessary, though too lost in a world of her own to notice. After a whole semester pining over you on campus, watching you from afar like a Joel Goldberg, she finally found herself face-to-face with you, engaged in a real conversation. She had been waiting for this moment for a lifetime, almost, feeling truly seen and known by you for the very first time.

A slow smile crept across your face, and your gaze dropped down to her hand, which was still firmly attached to yours in a stubborn grip like a tenacious octopus refusing to let go. “Don’t get attached,” Your jest had a confident, almost boastful tone, causing her heart to skip a beat.

Were you making fun of her? Was she making a fool of herself? Her mind quickly became consumed by overthinking. It was absurd; how could she draw such strong conclusions after just two minutes of conversation with you? Three minutes was enough to send her thoughts into a tempestuous cyclone, their rhythm erratic and tumultuous. She told herself that she was simply overthinking, but sometimes, it's easy to mistake intuition for overthinking.

The nervous girl forced out a strained, strangled chuckle, “I’ll try not to,” she said, attempting to match your casual tone, even though her heart was still racing.

You laughed softly, a sound that seemed to echo in her mind long after you walked away. Ellie stood there for a moment, trying to steady her breath and slow down her chaotic thoughts. Her eyes darted towards Dina, who stood nearby with a smirk on her face, arms crossed over her chest and leaning nonchalantly against the bar wall. Her long, dark brown hair was tied up in a high, sleek ponytail, and she casually chewed on a piece of gum, observing the entire encounter with a mixture of amusement and appraisal.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Dina teased her friend, walking over to her.

Ellie rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, sure. Piece of cake,” she muttered, though the adrenaline still coursed through her veins.

As the day continued, Ellie found herself glancing at you more often than she’d like to admit. Each time she saw you, she felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. She couldn’t shake the gut feeling that this summer was going to be different.

28th of June.

Ellie sighed in relief as she sought refuge under the closest patch of shade she could find. The scorching sun was relentless, turning her into a messy canvas for glistening beads of sweat to trickle down her dotted face and back. The air felt heavy and stagnant, intensifying the already stifling heat. It seemed like the sun had a personal vendetta against her today, making every little thing feel ten times more irritating.

Like you, for example.

Being around you was a source of never-ending irritation for her, and she despised the fact that she had to share the same airspace with you. It was an injustice in her eyes, how your stunning good looks did not reflect your unpleasant personality. How could looks be so fucking deceiving? Ellie had no clue, all she knew was that she fell for it. Every. Single. Time.

The fury inside her was like an uncontrollable wildfire as she aggressively scribbled over your name with her pen in her journal. If only it were that easy to erase you completely, to make you vanish as if you had never existed. Feeling completely dumb for even remotely thinking that you could be any different from the people you hung out with. Every time she had to interact with you, the only thoughts echoing in her mind were Dina's warning words.

Dina was right.

But Ellie would never say it out loud only to get an “I told you” back.

Everyone had warned her about you—they all knew the truth about your character, yet she found herself stubbornly holding onto the belief that there was something more to you than just the surface-level impression. If she were to add your name to a list of defining terms, it would undoubtedly be accompanied by words like “evil,”“spoiled,” or even the simplest yet most descriptive term, “brat.”

Working with you was a constant nightmare; even being in the same vicinity as you felt like torturous purgatory. You seemed incapable of restraining yourself, constantly throwing witty, biting remarks to the anxious girl, even when she hadn't provoked you in any way. It perplexed her—why did you take such pleasure in taunting her? It was as if the world itself would implode if you didn’t pick on her despite the seemingly nonexistent reasons behind your hostility. She often found herself rambling about you to her friends. This time, though, not in a good way.

Talking to you felt like a return to the nightmarish experience that was middle school, a trip down memory lane that brought back memories she had worked so hard to forget. The bullying she had endured during that period had left a lasting impact on her, and your presence seemed to trigger something in her. It was for that exact reason that she tried her best to keep any interactions with you brief, limited to the bare essentials.

She watched as you sprang from your seat, sprinting after the kids, yelling at them, the shrill sound of your annoying whistle piercing the air. Threats flew from your mouth, aimed at their misbehavior and disruption of the pool’s tranquility. The best part? No one seemed to care about your passive-aggressive attitude because, let’s face it, you were just doing your job, and you were pretty damn good at it—pretty damn good at scaring people.

Ellie’s eyes took in the kids' terrified faces as they looked up at you, wide-eyed and quivering, but you didn’t care. Their fear didn’t stop you from messing with their childish, naive minds. Their innocence was like a delicate flower, easily manipulated. If Ellie claimed she didn't find it amusing, her nose would’ve grown like Pinocchio’s. It was almost comical how easily you maintained order, seemingly without effort. You possessed a natural inclination for control, a characteristic that could be a strength or a flaw, depending on one's perspective.

“You know what happens if you run on a wet floor? You slip and hit your head,” you barked, hands firmly planted on your hips. “Is that what you two little gremlins want? To end up in a hospital with a cracked skull?” The kids darted off to their mothers, who were too engrossed in their own conversations to notice. You scoffed, watching them scamper away like puppies with their tails between their legs. Crossing your arms over your red bikini top, you muttered, “That’s what I thought,” a smirk curling your lips. It was almost as if you derived some twisted satisfaction from seeing others—especially kids—tremble in fear. There was an ever-present sadistic delight in your eyes whenever someone dared to cross your path, a blend of authority and mischief that made you the unchallenged queen of the poolside.

Ellie only ever saw a warm smile on your face when you were talking to the moms of the kids you had scared away in such a devilish manner. You transformed around them, becoming overly sugary-sweet, showering them with compliments and shooting wide grins their way. Your demeanor softened, offering them drinks as if you were hosting a garden party instead of working at a public pool.

The redhead scoffed as she tried to decipher your persona. You were a walking contradiction, a goddess clad in a red bikini. One moment, you were a menacing warden, barking orders and traumatizing kids; the next, you were a social butterfly, all warm smiles and saccharine charm with their moms. So fucking weird.

Ellie didn’t expect you to notice her presence not so far behind you, but nothing ever seemed to escape your attention. You were like a hawk, sharply observant, contrasting your superficial personality. Then again, maybe it was all an act you were putting on. Ellie marveled at the paradox of your nature—how you seemed so frivolous and charming on the surface yet were always acutely aware of everything happening around you. It was as if you had a second set of eyes hidden behind your back, always watching, always calculating, leaving her to wonder what was real and what was merely a façade.

“What? Got something to say?” Your voice was anything but friendly, ready to spark an argument over nothing. Your arched brows seemed to challenge her, daring her to complain or speak her mind in any way.

Maybe she should just drop it before you could escalate things. Ellie wasn't in the mood for meaningless bickering, especially not under the blazing sun, sweating like a cow.

But sometimes, her body loved to betray her.

“That was just a little bit harsh, is all,” the words slipped out before she could stop them, only realizing she'd spoken aloud when your expression shifted to a mocking smirk.

“Pardon?” You challanged, daring her to continue. She knew you had heard her perfectly; if you had caught her scoff a few seconds ago, there was no way you missed her comment now. The awkward girl knew what you were doing—trying to make her feel small and stupid for speaking up.

She couldn't back down now.

Ellie gulped, nerves tightening in her stomach, but stood her ground. “It’s just... they’re kids, you know?” Her voice wavered slightly, but she held your gaze, determined not to let you intimidate her.

“And?” You looked at her like she was exaggerating, as if she had been the one yelling at kids for having fun, threatening to call the police on them, or telling them she'd hijack their Christmas gifts from Santa and sell them on the black market.

Ellie knew there was no point in arguing or trying to tell you off, so she shook her head slowly, her eyes glued to the wet mosaic tiles. An airy chuckle escaped her lips as she replied, “Nothing.”

But of course, you didn’t drop it. “We gotta make sure people—especially kids—don’t get hurt, and if you don’t yell at them, they’re just going to keep doing it—that’s how kids are,” you justify your actions without a hint of remorse in your voice or on your face. The freckled girl knew you were right, but she tended to be softer with kids.

Ellie loved kids and swore nothing was better than being young, carefree, and without worries beyond your favorite toys and your best friend. Sometimes, she missed being a kid, even if she still felt like one deep down. Perhaps the fact that Joel kept treating her like one didn’t help. Always spamming her with texts, asking if she had eaten when she wasn’t home, staying out all day. Asking her a thousand questions at a time, enough to make her brain short-circuit.

“You terrified them!” Ellie exclaimed, though an involuntary laugh slipped out with her words, causing you to smirk ever so slightly.

“Oh, sorry, Eleonor,” you taunted, deliberately getting her name wrong as you stepped closer. “How ‘bout you teach me your ways?” Sarcasm dripped from your voice as your eyes locked with hers. For once, the green-eyed girl managed not to look away; your eyes were so animated and clever, like a fox's gaze, giving off the impression that you were always one step ahead and knew more than you let on.

Ellie’s expression dropped as soon as ‘her’ name rolled off your tongue. You were trying to get under her skin, as always, and despite it being something so insignificant, it worked wonders. The fact that you were invading her personal space didn't help either. “It’s Ellie,” she puffed.

“Oh, I thought it was short for Eleonor,” you said mockingly.

“Nope, just Ellie—’s not short for anything,” she replied, her tone tinged with annoyance, causing you to grin like the Cheshire cat. God, if you loved getting her worked up, having her wrapped around your finger, and messing with her mood so easily. It was endearing, truly.

“Hmm… dunno, I like Eleonor better, though,” you insisted with a cheeky grin. Your voice took on a more sultry tone. Or had she imagined it? Maybe she had.

Ellie had heard that being under the sun for too long could cause hallucinations and general sickness, and she was already sweating like crazy. That was her explanation, because why in the world would you ever try to flirt with her?

“Well, ‘s not my name,” she insisted.

The tanned girl’s chest expanded as her breath caught in her throat as you drew nearer with each passing moment. You inched so close that she could almost discern the individual strands of your eyelashes that cast shadows on her cheeks, the way your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. Your intense gaze, focused and persistent, traced the contours of her cheeks.

Entranced, Ellie found her emerald eyes involuntarily drawn to your lips, merely inches away from hers. Unconsciously, she moistened her own lips, utterly captivated as she absorbed every pore and mole on your skin, revering every aspect of your being, whether flaw or perfection, with unwavering devotion in her mind. You were insanely beautiful; it was almost unfair.

You extended your hand to cup her cheek gently, your thumb dragging across her cheekbone, spreading the sunscreen she had hastily applied in the morning. Ellie instinctively flinched at the unexpected contact. “You can't even apply sunscreen correctly,” you sneered, your voice dripping with mockery, before abruptly withdrawing and turning on your heel, leaving her standing there completely bewildered and disoriented.

What the fuck?

She spotted her dear best friend Dina, and Ellie ran up to her, eager to spill everything that had happened. A weird frustration churned inside her, a knot in her stomach that seemed to tighten as she rambled on and on about how obnoxious you were. She was down bad and wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Like- what the hell is her pro—” but Dina had enough.

“Jesus, get a grip, Ellie! Can’t you see I’m busy? You don’t get paid to act like a schoolgirl,” Dina groaned deeply, her manicured hands moving swiftly as she folded the pastel-colored towels, her eyes glued to her agitated friend. The cinnamon-haired girl had been caught in a continuous rant for the last 30 minutes, carelessly stumbling into Dina and disrupting her work as she paced around in a flustered manner.

Ellie groaned deeply in return, almost indignant at Dina’s reaction. How could she brush her off like this instead of offering comfort and reassuring words? Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do? Well, she had been, but at some point, the brunette grew tired of repeating herself over and over.

“I just don’t understand!” Ellie exclaimed furiously, her voice raising just enough to draw the attention of a few people sitting on the pool’s edge. To top it off, when she gestured, her hands knocked into the drinks Jesse was carrying as he approached the two girls from behind. Luckily, the cups were plastic, but the tray was thicker, causing a disturbing noise as it clattered on the mosaic. Ellie’s verdant emeralds widened, and she whipped around, cursing under her breath, “Shit, Jesse!”

She mumbled a flurry of apologies to the taller guy as she crouched down to help with the mess she had inadvertently caused. Her bare knees pressed against the cool, wet mosaic as her hands quickly gathered the plastic cups, stacking them one by one. As she fumbled to collect the scattered paper umbrellas, now lying crumpled on the moist floor, she placed them back on the tray, her movements slightly clumsy. Her chest tightened with embarrassment at the scene she had created.

“The fuck’s going on with you, man?” Jesse’s eyes scanned her face, confused.

“Her little girlfriend! That’s what happened,” his girlfriend exclaimed, completely fed up.

“Oh my god, Dina!” Ellie groaned, exasperated.

Jesse, being his usual self, furrowed his unplucked brows together. A quizzical expression took over his features, “You got a girlfriend?” he asked, bewildered, which seemed to throw Dina off even more, the confusion in his voice only adding fuel to the fire.

The brunette shook her head, facepalming herself with an exasperated sigh. “I’m done,” she declared before walking away from the two, leaving them staring after her. She had been acting a little lunatic the whole day; maybe she was on her period. Ellie didn’t know. Or maybe it was because she had clumsily dropped Dina’s phone into the pool exactly three hours ago, the same phone she had worked so hard to get because her old one was falling apart like the Pisa tower. But hey, it was still working!

“Who? Cat?” the taller boy suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them. He redirected his attention back to his friend, and for a moment, all she could do was scoff. She couldn't believe he had actually brought up a girl she dated over three years ago.

Ellie looked at him in disbelief, her heart-shaped lips slightly agape as if she was about to say something, ready to go off on him, but decided against it at the last moment. ‘Typical Jesse,’ she thought to herself. He knew everything because he always hung out with them, and if he didn’t, his girlfriend made sure to keep him in the loop. Plus, Ellie had a habit of rambling about every girl who kept her up at night, so it was impossible to miss or forget. But that's just how Jesse was—blissfully oblivious and fucking clueless.

Ellie shook her head and sighed deeply before walking off as well.

“Why? What did I say?” He called out after her, his voice raised just enough to catch her attention. He watched as she stalked away, her irritation clear in the way she carried herself. He was left standing there, looking lost and utterly baffled, with a plastic tray in his hand.

30th of June.

It wasn’t long until another girl joined the team. Ellie was now responsible for introducing the new member and orienting her to the job. She meticulously explained all the rules and how everything worked, ensuring the new girl was well-prepared and well-trained for the job. Otherwise, you’d be on her ass about it, blaming the auburnette for any mistakes, just like you normally did.

Ellie was initially hesitant, nervously stumbling over her words and avoiding the girl’s Lapis lazuli gaze. However, as time passed, she began to feel more at ease in the blonde's presence. Alexis exuded sweetness and was undeniably beautiful. They found their usual spot by the lifeguard station, sitting side by side and engaging in conversations that meandered through various topics. As they talked, their gazes wandered idly across the bustling pools, and a gentle breeze enveloped them, offering a pleasant sensation on their sun-warmed skin.

The weather was perfect. The gentle breeze kept the air just the right temperature, and the sunshine was warm without being too intense. Fluffy white clouds floated by, offering a welcome break from the direct sunlight. Their billowing forms shielded the freckled girl from the harsh rays that might otherwise have left her fair skin burnt and uncomfortable.

She had not set out intending to forge new friendships that summer. Although It felt too soon to label Alexis as a friend, she didn’t mind the possibility of meeting new people. Though she treasured her current friends, there were times when she craved the fresh energy that came with forming new connections. She recognized that stepping out of her comfort zone and meeting new faces could bring a welcome change, and she needed to ‘expand her social horizons’—Joel’s words.

However, you didn’t waste a second. You quickly disrupted Ellie’s fleeting moment of peace, shouting her name loudly and incessantly. Initially, she tried to ignore you, hoping you would give up and leave her be. But you persisted, standing by the bar, leaning against the counter, and chanting her name. When she feigned deafness, you resorted to using your trusty megaphone, the latest object of your obsession, employing it for seemingly every trivial matter.

"Eleanor Williams!”

She closed her eyes and cringed inwardly as her cheeks flushed a bright pink, embarrassed by the unwanted attention she was receiving from the onlookers around her. Their confused glances only added to her discomfort, making her wish for the ground to swallow her up on the spot.

Why did you have to be like this? She stopped asking herself that at some point.

Alexis furrowed her perfectly arched brows, her crystal blue eyes filled with puzzlement as she gazed at Ellie. Her head tilted gracefully to the side, highlighting her confusion as she asked, “Who’s Eleanor?”

“It’s me.” Ellie let out a heavy sigh, slowly rising from her pristine plastic chair, her gaze shifting downwards to the small, delicate figure of the girl before her, muttering, “Be right back,”

She strode cautiously towards you, avoiding eye contact with everyone looking at her. Every step she took brought her closer to you, but your relentless shouting through the megaphone continued unabated.

“How many times do I have to shout your name?” You stood with an air of drama, waving your hands in sweeping arcs above you. Your body swayed gently as you shifted your weight to one foot, and your free hand found its place resting comfortably on your hip.

“Once was enough,” Ellie replied flatly. The tension in her expression hinted at the internal dialogue she had engaged in as if she had carefully composed herself, steeling her mind and heart for whatever was coming.

“The fuck are you doing?” You stood there, gazing blankly at her. A hand rested on your left hip, mirroring the other hand on your right hip. The white megaphone was wedged against your side, the loose laces of the bottom of your bikini swaying gently in the breeze.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you just sitting there doing absolutely nothing?” you demanded, cutting her off as she tried to reply. “See those ladies over there? They ordered four diet cokes.”

“And?” She pressed her lips together, her eyebrows furrowing as she stared at you, confused.

“So get them their drinks—Gosh! Are you, like, stupid?” You exclaimed with annoyance, the frustration evident in your voice. Ellie’s brows, marked with scars, furrowed as she prepared to engage in a heated argument. “You… drinks… ladies over there… diet coke. Understand?” With a slow and exaggerated mocking tone, as if talking to an alien from outer space.

Ellie’s veiny arms were tightly crossed over her vibrant red t-shirt, creating a striking contrast against her fair skin. A look of determination furrowed her brow, her cheeks flushing as red as a ripe tomato, betraying her attempt to maintain composure and not cause any scene. “I’m a lifeguard,” she reminded you.

You couldn't help but stifle a dry chuckle as the corners of your lips curled up into a smile at her statement, practically laughing in her face. Stepping closer to her, you couldn't contain your amusement, “Look,” you said with a grin, your eyes fixated on the pool. The vibrant scene unfolded before you—children playing and swimming while adults engaged in animated conversations.

Ellie turned around, following your gaze, and then turned her face back to yours, clearly not comprehending what you were referring to. “Look at what?” She found herself unable to resist the urge to question you again, the slight edge of irritation creeping into her voice, her patience wearing thin with each passing moment.

“Exactly—no one’s drowning.” You pointed to the lively pool, the laughter and chatter filling the air. Her gaze remained fixed on the scene before her, and her peripheral vision tracked you as you leaned in close to her. Your warm breath tickled the side of her neck, and she involuntarily shivered at the sensation. The auburnette froze in place, feeling your face mere inches away from her ear, “You’re not just a lifeguard. You’re whatever I want you to be,” you said, your voice a sinister hiss in her ear, each word dripping with venomous mockery. The corners of your mouth curled upwards into a prideful grin, your eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction as you reveled in your power over her. She fought the urge to wipe that irritating expression off your stupid face. You were extremely gorgeous but so insanely maddening at the same time.

She clenched her jaw in frustration, her gaze following you as you sauntered away to talk to an older woman who was a regular at the pool with her child. Her self-admonishment grew when she caught herself checking you out, her eyes taking in the softness of your thighs, hips, and the inviting roundness of your ass. She hated herself even more for her body’s instinctive reaction to such a vision, a mixture of conflicting emotions coursing through her.

4th Of July.

The day was oppressively hot, and the pool was more crowded than usual, adding to the chaos. Ellie constantly moved back and forth, attending to tasks she had not anticipated having to do. When she applied for the job, she had envisioned a laid-back role where she could relax, sit on her ass and move only when necessary. Cause the chances of anyone drowning in a pool were very low, let’s be realistic. Instead, you proved her wrong, forcing trusting her with responsibilities that didn’t belong on her shoulders.

What truly frustrated her was how you remained still, doing absolutely nothing, while constantly barking orders and yelling at everyone around you. It drove the green-eyed girl crazy to witness how effortlessly you directed others without lifting a finger yourself.

Ellie collected the empty beer cans two men had left on the black countertop, wiping sweat from her forehead with her other arm, baby hairs sticking to her damp skin. She couldn’t help but scoff as she observed you from a distance. You were near the pool, lounging casually on a towel with your arms propping you up behind your back, engaged in animated conversation with your friends. You giggled loudly every now and then, amused by the hurtful comments your friends made about people who remained blissfully unaware of their disdainful stares.

Judgmental snakes that acted as if no one could measure up to or surpass them. It absolutely infuriated her. She loathed how you and those kids seemed to effortlessly receive everything you desired on a silver platter, while average people like her had to labor relentlessly for anything she hoped to achieve in her life.

It wasn't actually the wealth itself that angered her; rather, it was the blatant arrogance and smugness you all displayed, as if being wealthy automatically made you superior individuals with no moral values or empathy for anyone else.

Nevertheless, you had stunned her with your choice of attire that day—a two-piece bikini that revealed your captivating figure. Despite feeling frustrated that she couldn't catch a break while you lounged around doing nothing, she couldn't help but admire your otherworldly physique. Yet, it was wrong to feel that way about a piece of shit like you.

“Glad someone’s keeping her busy,” Alexis’ voice acted like an invisible tug on Ellie's sleeve, pulling her back from her thoughts. The freckled girl shook her head as if trying to clear her mind and curiously responded with a quiet “hm?”

“Too busy shit-talking with her friends to be up our ass,” The honey-haired girl carefully adjusted her hair, tucking a stray piece of golden hair behind her pierced ear. Ellie couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the girl’s remark, responding with a warm smile and a subtle bob of her head.

“Right? I don’t understand how they haven’t kicked her out yet; she does nothing all day!” she complained as the blonde behind the countertop meticulously cleaned up the spill on the sleek black marble surface, casting a quizzical gaze in her direction.

“Kick who out?”

“Her.” Ellie leaned her forearms on the countertop, her gaze locked onto her blue ones.

Alexis let out a scoff and gave her a look “Why would her father kick her out?” Ellie’s eyes widened in surprise, her voice strangled as she almost choked on the air she was breathing. The incredulity in her expression was palpable, a clear indication that she had no fucking clue.

“What’d you say?” She questioned tentatively, inwardly hoping that her ears were merely playing tricks on her. The disbelief in her voice was evident as she tried to make sense of the shocking revelation she had just heard.

“She owns this place—you didn’t know?” Alexis asked in disbelief, speaking as if the information were common knowledge, which made it all the more surprising that Ellie was unaware of it.

But given your wealthy background and how you carried yourself, it suddenly made perfect sense. Everything fell into place. Your commanding presence wasn't just a show of authority—you actually owned this entire establishment. You weren't striving to save money for some personal goal as Ellie had assumed; rather, you were here because your family had ownership over the pool, the spa nearby, and every other facility in this area.

“Dude, I had no fucking clue,” she uttered, flabbergasted, her emerald green eyes darting in your direction as a gentle breeze played with the soft, auburn strands of her hair, tickling her face.

The freckled girl observed the scene unfolding before her, her eyes fixed on the tall, muscular guy approaching your small group, a golden retriever trotting loyally at his side. Despite his sunglasses, she could sense his gaze fixated on you, and when you stood up to greet him, she watched your lips move but couldn't discern any words. Her thoughts were interrupted by Alexis's rambling, but her attention quickly shifted back to you as the guy started to engage in conversation with you, her stomach twisting in a strange flutter of unease.

“Are dogs even allowed in here?” was the first thing Ellie grumbled, her irritation evident as she interrupted her friend's rambling monologue. It was clear that she wasn't really paying attention to what was being said, her mind preoccupied with other thoughts.

“Pshh—when I wanted to bring my dog in here, she said I couldn't.” Alexis huffed, passing a popsicle to the young boy who had approached and requested it. A small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth before storming off with his little brother. “Had to leave my Nana home with-” But Ellie wasn't having it. She was already storming towards you, her green eyes flashing with anger and determination. You had alwas doled out rules yet seemed to disregard them yourself. She didn't care if you owned the place and had the authority to do as you pleased. As far as she was concerned, you needed to adhere to the standards you had set, and she was determined to make that happen… and she wanted that guy gone.

Your two friends remained laid out on their towels, one sipping on a cocktail and the other engaged in a gossip session, their conversation marked by animated gestures. However, as Ellie approached, they immediately took notice. This time, she paid no mind to their gazes, instead stomping up to stand just behind you, her arms crossed in a defensive stance. Meanwhile, you were oblivious to her presence, completely unaware of her lurking behind you.

You knelt down to give the guy's dog some attention, running your fingers through its soft fur and scratching behind its ears. You continued to pet the dog, a sweet smile gracing your lips, “Such a cute fuckin’ dog, aren’t ya?” Ellie listened as you let out a low chuckle, your voice dropping into a silly tone as you spoke to the dog. The pup seemed to perk up at your voice, tilting her head slightly to the side as you found the sweet spot behind her ear, causing her to lean into your touch and let out a soft whine. “Like owner, like dog.” You looked up at the guy, your voice taking on a more flirtatious tone than Ellie had ever heard you use before. Your eyes sparkled with a hint of innocence as you slowly stood back up.

The sleazy guy chuckled, a gravelly sound that echoed into Ellie's ears, threatening to make them bleed. It was incredible how, with just a hint of attention, you made him feel like he'd struck gold in a barren desert. You barely gave him the time of day, but that sliver of acknowledgment had him grinning like he’d just hit the jackpot.

The boy’s eyes were glued to your chest, drooling over your perfect goddamn tits as if he'd discovered a hidden treasure in the most unexpected place. You were a twisted goddess of fortune, and he was more than happy to worship, soaking up every precious moment with a grin that said he’d do anything to stay in this heavenly hell. But all you needed was his weed, and while he was fantasizing about you, you were already thinking of dumping his ass when you didn't need him anymore.

“What’s her name?” You flashed him a charming smile as you spoke, tilting your head slightly to one side as you looked up at him with a coy expression.

“Nelly,” He replied, pulling up his sunglasses, his brown eyes devouring every curve of your body without a hint of shame. He was eye-fucking you like it was just another day, and Ellie felt the bile rise in her throat. Men never ceased to amaze her; they were all disgusting, perverted assholes hiding behind a thin veil of chill and manners. What pissed her off even more was that you were letting it happen. You were into it. You reveled in the attention, loving every second of being liked, as if his filthy gaze was some kind of twisted validation.

Was that what you needed? Validation?

Ellie decided to chime in, clearing her throat loudly. Your head snapped her way, surprise lighting up your sun-kissed features. Your carefully styled hair tumbling down your back—just one of the many things about you that baffled her. Why the hell would you spend time styling your hair every morning just to go to the pool? The heat and sweat would mess it up anyway. It was like trying to keep a snowman from melting in a sauna, completely pointless, but somehow, you did it every damn day.

“Dogs aren’t allowed.” The aburnette firmly stated, her words hanging in the air, drawing confused looks from you and the guy as if she were speaking a different language. But Ellie didn’t give a damn; she was just doing her job. Her mission was to keep everyone in line, making sure the rules were followed to the letter. That’s what your daddy was paying her for, right?

You quickly brushed off her statement, returning your attention to the guy before you. “Nelly, huh?” you questioned with a wide smile, your eyes flicking to the dog patiently sitting at her owner’s feet. Her golden fur gleamed under the sunlight, her eyes a beautiful honey color.

Ellie didn’t have anything against the dog; she loved dogs and had always wanted one. But that dude needed to fuck off. She couldn’t even put her finger on why she felt this way, so irritated and annoyed, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. The sight of you flirting with that douchebag made her blood boil, leaving her wondering why it all pissed her off so much.

“Just like my friend here.” You suddenly exclaimed, your fake, cheerful voice, cutting through the tense atmosphere and snapping Ellie out of her turbulent thoughts.

“My name’s not—” she began, but you shut her off, waving a dismissive hand in her direction.

“Yeah, yeah. Nelly, Ellie… same thing,” you scoffed, your eyes still locked on the guy by the pool. “So I was saying…” Your voice dropped to a sultry whisper as you bit your lip, scanning him up and down, fingers gently tracing the contours of his strong arm. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes shamelessly glued to your cleavage, never quite making it to your face.

“Dogs aren’t—” Ellie tried again, her voice a persistent drone in the background.

“Don’t forget my stuff,” you whispered in his ear. You batted your lashes at him as you pulled back, your gaze locking with his. Ellie’s disgusted glare darted between you and him, her lips pressed into a tight line.

“I won’t. See you later?”

“Hmm-hmm. See you later, handsome.” Your voice was honey-sweet, dripping with fake affection, and the guy seemed utterly spellbound, his eyes never straying from your body.

Ellie huffed loudly, the sound almost lost in the noise of the poolside chatter, and you turned to face her, annoyance flashing across your features. You reached for the expensive sunglasses dangling from your bikini top and slid them on with practiced ease.

“Jesus, Ellen, got nothing better to do?” you grumbled, your tone laced with irritation and disdain.

“Dogs aren’t allowed,” Ellie repeated, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. She stood there, arms crossed, an immovable wall of resolve.

“Are you done? Because you’re starting to behave like a bot. Maybe hanging out with Alexa over there is rubbing off on you,” you sneered, turning your back on her with a dismissive wave. You strolled back to your friends, who were whispering among themselves, their eyes darting towards Ellie with thinly veiled amusement.

She turned away, ready to resume her duties, but your voice, dripping with venom, sliced through her ears.

“Have you seen her?” one of your friends giggled, their voice a conspiratorial whisper.

“She’s so embarrassing, oh my god,” another chimed in, their laughter bubbling up like champagne.

“Embarrassing is an understatement,” you commented without missing a beat, your voice carrying a sharp edge.

Ellie could feel the sting of your words, each one like a tiny drop of acid, smoldering away her already fragile self-esteem. She knew your cruel comments spared no one, yet hurt still bloomed in her chest, a dull ache that refused to fade. You loosed a laugh, a sound that blended sweet melody with sinister intent, leaving her captivated and repulsed. The echoes of your laugh, mingled with the cruel whispers of your friends, reverberated in her mind, morphing into a haunting, chilling soundtrack to her nightmares as she made her way back to her busy friend behind the counter.

“How’d it go?” Alexis questioned, her voice tinged with genuine concern as she handed Ellie a cup of sweetened tea. The blonde girl's eyes roamed across Ellie's face, taking in the tense, almost pained expression that twisted her features, preparing herself for the worst.

“Amazing,” Ellie responded with a hefty helping of sarcasm, quickly downing the drink. She then slumped onto a stool at the bar, her elbows roughly digging into the cold, unyielding surface of the marble counter.

The shorter girl behind the bar chuckled softly, her laughter a soothing balm in the tense atmosphere. “You coming tonight?”

A look of perplexity etched on her face. The line marring her brow looked like a work of art that the blue-eyed friend couldn’t help but admire. “Coming where?”

“In your underwear—” Alexis deadpanned, before bursting into snorts of laughter at Ellie’s flushed cheeks, her reaction priceless. “To the party,” The silken strands of hair framing her face bounced as she spoke more seriously, her hands deftly collecting cups left by the sink, preparing to give them a proper wash.

“Party?”

“The whole staff is invited,” the blonde explained, her voice a melodic mix of excitement and mischief. “But no annoying kids around; The Bitch said we can use the pool.” Ellie couldn’t help but let out a small, crooked smile of her own at the name her friend had bestowed upon you. “You should come, Ellie. It’ll be fun,” Her voice was full of genuine enthusiasm as she scrubbed the cups with vigor, the water splashing slightly.

The redhead shrugged, still feeling the sting of your earlier words. “I don’t know, Lex. I’m not really in the mood.” Truth was that she didn’t want to spend a second more around you, especially outside work.

Alexis paused, her hands resting on the edge of the sink, eyes locking onto her friend’s. “Hey, don’t let her get to you. She’s just... Well, you know how she is. Come to the party, have some fun.”

She sighed again, the tension slowly easing from her shoulders. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Atta girl,” she grinned, resuming her task with renewed energy. “Trust me, you’ll feel better after a few drinks and a good swim.”

Ellie chuckled softly, the corners of her lips twitching upwards. Maybe Alexis was right. Maybe a night of fun was exactly what she needed to shake off the day’s negativity. The thought of the party, with its promise of laughter and freedom, was a small but welcome spark of light in the otherwise dark cloud of her thoughts. She sure as hell wasn’t going to let you ruin her day.

4th of July, The evening.

Ellie despised parties and loathed crowds even more, as they left her feeling left out and isolated in an unfamiliar environment. She longed to escape back to the comfort of her home, but that choice was unfortunately not an option for her tonight. The pale girl ended up giving in because of Dina and Alexis, who insisted so much that Ellie finally relented. She was almost physically dragged to the same pool where she worked, but this time for a different reason. It was to have fun and actually enjoy the pool, something she rarely did.

The pool was enormous, the kind that looked like only the wealthy could access, but luckily, it wasn’t expensive to spend a weekend there. The pool area was beautifully maintained, with lush greenery and elegant lounge chairs neatly arranged around the perimeter. It was a stark contrast to Ellie’s usual experience of scanning the water for trouble and scolding unruly kids.

She was almost happy to be there to enjoy some fresh air and lounge by the pool instead of acting like a barista and waitress—a job she had not signed up for. The redhead took a deep breath, feeling the warm sun on her skin, watching the water sparkle under the midday sun, inviting and cool. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. The air was filled with the scent of sunscreen and chlorine, a familiar but somehow more pleasant combination today.

The group of friends settled into their lounge chairs, and Ellie let herself relax, her freckled shoulders sinking into the cushioned seat. For once, she didn’t have to worry about keeping an eye on everyone. She could just be a regular person enjoying a day by the pool.

The afternoon slowly turned to evening as the group passed around drinks and joints, creating a relaxed atmosphere. Ellie sat at the pool's edge, letting her feet dangle in the cool water, engrossed in a lively conversation with Dina and Alexis, who were seated beside her. The setting sun painted the sky with a golden hue, casting a warm glow over them.

She had only taken a few hits off her joint, and already, she couldn’t focus on anything but your thighs. The way those shorts hugged your hips and left the soft skin of your thighs exposed for everyone to see was simply captivating. They looked as soft as silk. You wore nothing on top but a black bikini, your crop top on one of the empty lounge chairs nearby.

All noise—the incessant chattering of her friends and random people you had invited—faded into the background. You were the only thing that mattered. The way you moved, talked, and gave that stupid jerk sitting by your side a charming grin that surely made him believe he somehow stood a chance drove Ellie crazy.

What a dick, she thought to herself.

Ellie’s friends continued to talk and laugh, oblivious to her inner turmoil. Her eyes flickered to her friends and then back to you. You passed a joint to Ryan, who took it eagerly, his eyes glued to your face for once.

It was as clear as day that Ryan wanted to fuck you right there and then. Ellie recognized the look in his eyes; it was the same one she had whenever she looked at you—or so Dina claimed. But you were so hypnotizing. The way your plush wet lips wrapped around the joint, taking big hits like it was nothing—no coughing, no hesitation. It wasn’t your first time.

Ellie observed the brown-eyed boy attentively, almost maniacally, noting how his eyes never left your tits. And how you didn’t seem to mind. You almost seemed at ease with the knowledge of being liked, desired. That also meant free weed for everyone. She watched you laugh, the sound like a siren call that cut through the buzz around her. The besotten girl couldn't tear her eyes away from the way your hair fell over your shoulders, catching the last light of the setting sun, giving you an almost angelic glow. You seemed so comfortable, so effortlessly part of this world of social interactions and causal flirtations. You wore your confidence like a second skin, and Ellie found herself drawn to it, like a moth who gravitated towards danger without second thought.

Seeing Ryan, who sat next to you, soaking up your attention, caused a pang of jealousy to hit Ellie. She longed to be the person who held all of your attention, but instead, she was just an outsider looking in.

The evening air grew cooler, but Ellie hardly noticed, her focus remained solely fixed on you. The world around her seemed to blur, and all she could see was the curve of your lips, the softness of your skin, the sparkle in your eyes. She took another drag from her joint, trying to calm her racing heart. The weed did little to dull her intense focus on you. If anything, it sharpened her awareness of every detail, every movement. Although she yearned to be closer to you, she knew it was never going to happen, not even in a million years, and this awareness only fueled her inability to look away. So, all she could do was watch, caught in the spell you had casted over her against her will.

Ellie felt her throat go dry, as if suddenly all the water on the planet had evaporated, leaving her parched. It was only when Alexis nudged her that she snapped out of her trance, her red, half-lidded eyes refocusing on the blonde girl beside her. Alexis was too close, causing Ellie to shift uncomfortably, creating some distance.

Why was she focusing on you anyway? Alexis had been by her side the whole night, trying to talk to her and being overall extremely nice. But for some reason, it felt like getting a taste of something that was missing salt; it was flavorless. Alexis was sweet and nice—they even liked the same things, for God’s sake. A girl who liked the same comics as her? It was almost a canon event. But, of course, fate had other plans for Ellie because she wasn’t interested in Alexis. In fact, she found her presence almost… annoying. She mentally kicked herself for even thinking of Alexis that way. She was such a kind girl, just trying to be friends—maybe more—but Ellie couldn’t care less.

She knew it was ridiculous, this unrequited fascination with you. Yet, she couldn’t help herself. You were like a star, dazzling and distant, while Alexis, kind and warm, was like a candle—close and comforting but not enough to hold Ellie’s attention.

Ellie wanted to desperately feel something for Alexis, to reciprocate her kindness and interest, but it felt forced. She sighed, running a hand through her messy auburn hair. It was in moments like these she realized how messed up she was for always chasing people who couldn’t care less about her. She felt a pang of guilt for not appreciating Alexis, who was right there, trying her best to connect while her thoughts constantly drifted back to you. You were like a magnet, pulling her attention away from everything and everyone else.

She couldn't exactly recall how they all ended up disgustingly high, sitting in a circle and playing a stupid game of truth or dare like high schoolers. It was such a childish game, but here they were. Her eyes were fixed on the bottle as if her life depended on it, and when it landed on you, she started praying in every language she knew—though her repertoire was limited to English, and she didn't even know how to pray.

The auburnette had never been particularly religious; she didn’t even believe in luck or fate. She wasn’t sure what she believed in, preferring things she could see, things that were scientifically proven. So she didn’t know what the hell she was doing, always praying and hoping that you’d talk to her, act differently, maybe even like her. You were just you, and no amount of mental manifestation seemed enough for you to actually see her.

It was bullshit. It was even more bullshit when the bottle landed on that stupid guy who had been thirsting over you the entire night, practically drooling over your body. Ellie couldn’t look away, not even when the kiss turned into a full-blown make-out session right in front of everyone—right in front of her. His callous and hungry hands pulled you close, letting them roam over your body, your ass, your waist, while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

The sight of his hands exploring your body, of your lips moving against his with such abandon, was almost too much to bear. The green-eyed girl glanced around the circle, noting the mix of reactions—some amused, some awkwardly averting their gaze. But Ellie’s eyes were drawn back to you, unable to tear herself away from the sight of your bodies intertwined. His hands caressed the bare skin of your back, and Ellie felt a pang of envy so sharp it was almost physical. The makeout session seemed to stretch on forever, and once it was over, it kept replaying like a broken record in her sick mind, an agonizing reminder of what she couldn’t have.

The green bottle spun on the mosaic again and again, its movements blending into a rapid blur on the floor. Ellie sat there, though completely absent; she felt as if she were a million miles away, her surroundings slowly fading into an enveloping fog, the Silent Hill kind.

Jesse nudged her gently, his voice breaking through her thoughts in a friendly but insistent manner. “Dude, you with us?” His words jolted her back to reality, piercing through the haze that had enveloped her mind. She blinked, her eyes snapping to his dark chocolate pools.

Following his gaze to the floor, her eyes landed on the bottle, its neck pointing directly at her. A fleeting moment of surprise flickered across her face, her heart skipping a beat as she realized she was the chosen one.

The word “Dare” burst out of her mouth before she could even process what she was saying. Immediately, she regretted it; the cinnamon-haired girl wasn’t exactly as gutsy as she sometimes pretended to be.

And as fate would have it, the bottle’s spin ended on the very person she least wanted it to. Alexis.

Her scarred eyebrows pinched together in a disappointed frown, an unexpected dryness creeping into her mouth. With sluggish movements that felt almost like wading through molasses, Ellie slowly turned to face the girl beside her, the moonlight casting a soft glow over her blonde locks. Alexis's eyes sparkled with mischief, her lips curving into a wide grin as she scooted closer. Ellie remained rooted to her spot, frozen in place, unable to bring herself to move.

Ellie failed to notice that your gaze, as cold and piercing as ice, was fixed on her with persistent intensity. Your eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of annoyance shadowing your features.

Both girls knelt face to face, and Alexis quickly placed her hand on her waist and leaned in eagerly for a kiss. However, just as their lips met, Ellie pulled away and gave her just a gentle peck. A collective boooo rang out from the surrounding crowd, expressing their disapproval at the briefness of the kiss.

Their eyes met, Alexis' blue eyes locking with hers, holding a hint of confusion. The group around them kept urging them to kiss properly, their voices chanting and encouraging them to go further. When her gaze shifted to the crowd, Ellie's gaze inadvertently locked with yours for a moment. Your eyes were fixated on her with a harsh, almost murderous glare, as if you wanted to rip her apart that very instant.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss,”

“Ohhh come on! We want a proper kiss!”

“I love lesbian porn.”

“Is lesbian porn even real?”

When Ellie broke eye contact and turned back to the golden-haired girl before her, she saw a look of remorse plastered on her face, as if she feared she had crossed a boundary. “We don't have-” But before she could finish her sentence, Ellie silenced her by pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss. Hovering over her, she gripped her by the waist, pulling her closer. Despite her efforts, though, kissing her felt almost nausea-inducing.

You didn't look away. Every second of Ellie and Alexis’ kiss was captured in the harsh, judgmental glare of your eyes. There was something almost perverse in how you watched, a blend of disgust and fascination twisting your expression. Ellie remained completely unaware of your intense observation, failing to notice the envy in your gaze and the deep-seated jealousy that gripped your stomach. Even if the redhead had detected your jealousy, she would have dismissed it as sheer animosity, failing to recognize the depth of your emotions. Just like she always did.

As the kiss ended, a huge, dumbstruck grin spread across her friend’s face, her eyes sparkling with joy like the myriad stars above them. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was slightly out of breath, clearly enjoying the moment. Ellie, on the other hand, had a look of regret and shock on her face, almost as if she was questioning every decision she had ever made in her life, a look that the blonde didn’t seem to catch on.

Ellie found it increasingly difficult to focus on the mindless dares and ridiculous questions being thrown around, her brain enveloped in a cloud of weed-induced haze. The substance in her system had relaxed her muscles to the extent that she felt like she was constantly on the verge of having an ‘accident.’

“I feel like I’m gonna piss myself—Did I piss myself?” Ellie mumbled softly into Dina’s ear, her words barely audible. Dina's dark eyes darted toward her friend’s lap, discreetly scanning for any signs of wet spots on her shorts, but there was nothing. In response, she shook her head while offering Ellie a small, sympathetic shrug and a lopsided smile that conveyed reassurance, her sleek ponytail swaying gracefully with the movement.

“You’re good,” her speech was slightly slurred, her words stumbling over each other as if she was struggling to articulate.

“Feels like my bladder gave up on me,” she grumbled, the damp spot in her boxers growing increasingly irritating. She harbored an unstoppable belief that she had, in fact, peed herself. The thought was persistent, a nagging paranoia that refused to go away no matter how much her friend had reassured her otherwise.

Dina’s perfectly shaped arches furrowed as she attempted to make sense of Ellie's slowed-down speech. The combination of alcohol and weed was a little too much for Dina to handle, as she struggled to comprehend what Ellie was saying. Thankfully, her boyfriend, who was much more sober, was there to keep a watchful eye on her. “Why aren’t you wearing a diaper?” she casually inquired, as if the redhead sitting beside her had worn them before.

“Uh, no? Why would I?” Ellie mimicked Dina’s confused expression.

“Don’t you, usually?” Her face was a portrait of genuine puzzlement.

Her auburn eyebrows drew together in puzzled bewilderment as she mulled over Dina’s query for a second or two, as if she didn’t quite know the answer herself. She started to respond, “Isn’t it too soon t—” but her words trailed off, replaced by an exasperated sigh. “Be right back,” she whispered, realizing it was futile to try talking to her friend, who was as high as gas prices.

The haze of weed and alcohol made everything feel surreal, like she was wading through a thick fog. Ellie’s mind was a chaotic mess, each thought bumping into the next. She stood up, her surroundings swaying slightly as she made her way to the back of the bar, walking around it. Even though she had worked there for quite some time and had likely been aware of the door behind the counters that led to the back of the building all along, she still decided to act like a mindless artificial intelligence bot instead.

You watched Ellie attentively, your eyes trailing her every move. The perfect excuse to get up from the circle was getting more beer. Ryan, ever eager, immediately offered to help, seizing the opportunity to be alone with you.

But God, who the fuck wanted his disgusting hands all over you?

Ryan was a means to an end, nothing more. You needed him for the weed, and you planned to ghost him the second you didn’t need him anymore. Weed was weed, and you’d do anything for free joints, spinning promises you had no intention of keeping. But guilt? That was a foreign concept to you. Playing people was your specialty: using them, manipulating them, treating men like him like obedient, panting pups. They were so eager, so desperate for your attention, that they'd leap at the chance to please you, dancing to your every whim. You took delight in their stupidity, toying with them to your liking. It was all fun until you got bored; then you’d dump them without a second thought, leaving them to wonder what they did wrong.

They were all the same. No one ever stood out to you; each encounter a cold calculation. Men like Ryan were just pawns, easily replaceable, utterly expendable, tools to be used and discarded. You enjoyed the control, how they bent to your will, the thrill of watching them scramble for your approval.

Your mind, slightly hazy from the weed and alcohol, felt both razor-sharp and wonderfully numb. You didn’t exactly know what you were thinking as your hand hovered hesitantly over the doorknob leading to the back of the bar. You looked over your shoulder to ensure no one saw you slip through the door.

You stepped out just as Ellie stumbled out of the bathroom, her movements faltering briefly when she laid eyes on you. While in the bathroom, she realized that she wasn’t going to piss herself; she was just fucking horny from all the weed she had smoked—it always had that effect on her—and seeing you made the effects even worse. Her green eyes widened for a moment, resembling a cat's eyes caught in the headlights rather than those of a deer. However, she swiftly recomposed herself, continuing to walk without acknowledging your presence. As if you didn't exist, as if she couldn't see you.

“Hey,” You called out, your voice cutting through the damp night air, but Ellie ignored you. Her steps quickened as she walked past you, her gaze fixed ahead as if you were a mere ghost haunting her path. Conversations between you two had never been normal. She was high as hell and enjoying herself for once; the last thing she wanted was another night ruined by your incessant arguing and your inability to grasp the concept of kindness. With determined steps, Ellie headed for the door that led inside the bar, your eyes lingering on the intricate tattoo on her forearm, which reached for the handle with purpose.

Just as Ellie’s fingers glided over the cold metal, your hand grasped her other arm forcefully, the strength surprising even yourself. With a sudden, harsh move, you slammed her against the wall. “What the fuu-” she cursed under her breath as she flinched at the sudden impact of her back against the brick wall, but you abruptly silenced her. You detested being ignored more than anything else. You were accustomed to always receiving attention, with people hanging on your every word and making you the focus of their world. The sensation of being ignored felt completely alien to you.

“I said hey,” You repeated, this time your voice was harsher. Ellie’s eyes, a mesmerizing shade of green, seemed to sparkle in the moonlight, resembling glistening emeralds. Her dilated pupils looked like deep black voids that threatened to swallow you whole. Despite the visible signs of confusion and irritation on her face, an unmistakable sense of intrigue emanated from her, one that didn't go unnoticed by you, and a sly smirk played at the corner of your lips in response.

“Yeah, I’ve heard you.” She retorted, annoyed and sarcastic, though her voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.

“Yeah? Didn’t seem like it,” you quipped, flashing a mischievous smile as you leaned closer, effectively trapping her against the wall. Your body hovered over hers, your arm positioned menacingly next to her head, the gap between you growing increasingly smaller. Ellie felt a lump form in her throat as she swallowed nervously, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of her chest. Her hands trembled at the sudden proximity, and her breath caught in her throat. She leaned against the wall, her body flattened as if trying to put as much space as she could between the two of you by melding into it. The distance between you had never been this small, your body practically looming over hers, encasing her against the wall. Her mind spun as your scent filled her nostrils, a dizzying mix of musk and something else that drove her insane; pheromones, perhaps? “What, you ignoring me now?”

“No, ‘m no-”

“Yes, you are,” Your intense gaze made her skin tingle, as if deciphering her every thought and emotion swirling in her mind, “Don’t you wanna talk to me?” Your voice took on an innocent, almost petulant tone as you pouted, sticking out your lower lip and batting your eyelashes at her.

The dim light cast long shadows, dancing across the rough brick wall. The scent of sweat, alcohol, weed, and something else—something electric—filled the space between you.

“I don’t wanna argue,” the aburnette immediately replied, sighing as if to release the tension that had been building up in her system only due to your closeness. It was crazy how much power you had over her despite her trying to convince herself that she despised you because of your ugly attitude.

“Oh, baby, I don't wanna fight either.” Ellie's heart raced as she struggled to process the pet name that effortlessly rolled off your tongue. Her eyes frantically scanned her surroundings, longing for an exit that simply wasn't there. She could have easily distanced herself from you, pushed you away even, but she found herself drawn to the attention and the intimacy, both captivated and unsettled by the closeness. The warmth emanating from your body enveloped her, and the sheer force of your presence overwhelmed her senses. As her pulse quickened, the rhythm of each beat echoed loudly in her ears. Just as Ellie started to gather her thoughts, you gently lifted her chin, compelling her to meet your gaze. A delicate auburn strand of hair fell across her face, “Did you like it?” you suddenly interrogated her, reaching out to gently tuck the stray strand behind her ear.

“Like what?” she questioned back, her brow furrowed in confusion. Her voice sounded weak, and you could sense how your words made her feel small, even though it had nothing to do with height.

“The kiss—is she a good kisser?” your gaze fixed on her lips as your thumb traced a gentle path over her bottom lip.

Ellie let out a disapproving tsk as she pulled her face out of your grasp, causing your hand to drop limply to your side. “Why do you care?” Her question prompted you to glance back into her eyes. She was surprised by the intense yet gentle expression on your face. For once, you weren’t shouting at her, teasing her, or being a bitch.

“‘Cause I think you could do so much better,”

She couldn't fathom the words you were speaking or understand why you were studying her every detail as if inspecting a precious work of art, gazing at her as if she were a masterpiece rather than an inferior being. It made the freckled girl’s stomach twist with excitement and nervousness. A blush crept across her star-speckled cheeks as your eyes found their way back to her lips, and she unconsciously ran her tongue over them. It was at that moment that you leaned in, pressing your plump lips against hers in a hungry, demanding kiss.

As your lips met hers, Ellie felt like she was about to dissolve into a puddle. The texture of your lips was indescribably soft, almost as if they were crafted specifically for her. Initially, she was too stunned to reciprocate the kiss; her eyes widened in shock, resembling those of a startled cat thrown in a bathtub. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, it felt as though her heart had ceased to beat; she was certain that if a doctor had measured her pulse at that instant, they would have deemed her deceased.

It took her a few moments to process the reality of the situation. The girl she had been pining over for ages—and that also made her life miserable—was kissing her. She couldn't be certain whether it was the effect of the weed she had consumed—perhaps she had blacked out in the bathroom, and all of this was simply a figment of her imagination—but as soon as Ellie felt your gentle hands drawing her in closer by the waist, she was certain that it was all too real.

She could feel your heartbeat, the heat emanating off your skin, your lips moving against hers. It was like stepping into a new world where everything was heightened and vivid. Your lips, soft and inviting, moved with a grace that left the green-eyed girl breathless. She felt like she was floating, untethered from reality, anchored only by the warmth of your touch. It felt right.

Ellie’s mind raced, thoughts colliding in a frenzy of disbelief and euphoria. How could this be happening? She had spent countless nights dreaming of this moment, and now it was unfolding before her.

Slowly, Ellie’s initial shock faded away, replaced by a surge of boldness. She began to kiss you back, tentatively at first, then with increasing confidence. Her pale hands gripped your face, pulling you impossibly closer, their touch greedy and desperate. She tried to push you off, to reverse the roles, but you pushed her right back against the wall, pinning her in place. Both of you craved control, the conflict only adding to the intensity of your interactions. Neither of you was willing to give up easily, the power play making everything so intoxicating. Ellie sought to put you in your place, to dominate you for once, while you had another fantasy in mind—to see her writhing and squirming under your touch, completely submitted to you.

Her kisses were fierce and hungry, as if she hadn't tasted anything in days, and you were her first meal. Your lips muffled every delightful sound that escaped her, only serving to make you smile. Her hands tugged at any piece of fabric they could reach—the loops of your shorts, the laces of your bikini—as if trying to bring you even closer. She wanted you desperately, and you knew it.

You had always known. When you weren't looking, Ellie had been looking. Her fern-green gaze would devour your exposed skin at the pool, filled with an intensity that could not be ignored.

The confirmation that it wasn't just a one-sided desire made you feel all giddy. From the moment she had accidentally bumped into you on the first day of college, you had wanted her. When summer approached and the prospect of more time away from your judgmental friends became a reality, you saw an opportunity. You asked Dina to help recruit more employees, promising her a slight raise in pay. Despite the plan being less than fool-proof and unlikely to succeed, it somehow unfolded exactly how you hoped it would.

Ellie’s breaths came in ragged gasps between the kisses, each one deepening the connection, fueling the fire between you. You could feel her trembling, the tension in her body creating a delightful contrast with the softness of her skin under your touch. Your hands traced the contours of her waist and the subtle dip of her back. Each touch sent a shiver through her, her body responding to your every caress as if it had been waiting for this moment, craving your touch. Her hands emulated your movements, exploring every inch of your body as if she were attempting to commit each curve and line to memory.

You pressed your thigh between her legs, and you swore you could feel the heat of her cunt through the fabric. Ellie’s response was immediate, a moan that vibrated against your mouth as her hips rocked against you in an involuntary, desperate attempt to find friction. The feminine urge to push her further, to test her limits, to make her beg for more almost overwhelmed you.

But Ellie refused to surrender, kissing you harder, more urgently, trying to take control. Her hands found their way to your hair, pulling you closer, her nails slightly scraping your scalp in a way that was both painful and pleasurable, eliciting a moan from you. But you stood your ground, pushing back, your hands gripping her hips tightly, keeping her in place.

You broke the kiss to trail your lips along her jawline and neck, the movement eliciting a gasp of pleasure from her. She leaned her head back against the wall, breathing heavily and unevenly as your hand slipped beneath her white T-shirt. You felt the muscles of her abdomen contract under your touch.

You were almost certain you had never seen her with her shirt off, not even when she was working. She always wore T-shirts and those red, men's style swim trunks when working. Perhaps you had caught a glimpse of her in a sports bra a time or two, but certainly never any more than that. You couldn't understand why Ellie hid so much. If only she could see herself; she was legitimately beautiful, her body toned and strong. But you could never tell under those slightly baggy shirts she always wore.

Your hand pulled the hem of her shirt up to expose her abdomen as you knelt down, your mouth moving over her stomach, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin, eliciting exaggerated gasps and shudders from her, as if her body had never received the right attention before.

But as your fingers grazed the waistband of her cargo pants, Ellie suddenly snapped out of her trance, realizing that you were out in the open and at risk of being caught. Her hand pressed against your shoulder, trying to push you away and stop you. You looked up at her, meeting her gaze, her eyes wide and dark and her pupils dilated with desire and tinged with fear.

“W-we can’t, not here,” Her voice trembled as she spoke, barely above a whisper. Your head tilted, your eyes wide and innocent, your lashes almost touching your brows. Disappointment etched itself across your face, your forehead wrinkled in a frown so adorable that it made it even more difficult for her to deny you. Your expression conveyed a sense of need, of vulnerability, like you were completely dependent on her and needed her. It tugged at Ellie’s heartstrings, making her want to give in immediately.

“No one will see us,” You tried to reassure her, your fingers toying with the waistband of her shorts, but she intercepted your hands, stopping you once more. You huffed in frustration, your gaze flickering to the restroom on your left, then back to her face, hoping she would catch the hint.

Several minutes later, Ellie found herself perched on the toilet seat, legs spread wide with you kneeling in front of her. The white fabric of her shirt was trapped between her teeth, her desperate attempt to muffle her soft moans proving futile. Ellie’s cheeks were flushed, and the scattered freckles that dusted her damp skin stood out vividly against the pink hue. Her brows were scrunched in pleasure and concentration; her eyes rolled to the back of her cranium before squeezing them shut, trying to chase her third orgasm already.

The sight of Ellie’s sports bra peeking from underneath her shirt and her tensed, toned abs had you drooling all over her pussy. You stared at the aburn-haired girl almost in a trance, captivated by her body as if she were your muse. Her abs were like a sculptor’s masterpiece. Your eyes traced the outline of her bra, the way it clung to her, wishing you could take it off, but you were too impatient to feel her cumming in your mouth again to do that, and you sure as hell weren't going to pull away. Maybe another time.

You could sense every fiber of her being, her body speaking a language you were fluent in that told you exactly what she craved. Your tongue, a delicate pink ribbon, traced her sopping slit with deliberate care, teasing, tasting, before zeroing in on that needy bundle of nerves that demanded your attention, a stifled whine escaping her mouth. Her moans grew louder, each one urging you on.

You devoured Ellie’s saccharine essence like a starved beast, your eyes locked onto her with the intensity of a tiger stalking its prey. Her expressions, a symphony of pleasure and desperation, were a masterpiece you couldn't look away from, your gaze drinking in every nuance of her expression, reveling in her artistry. And it was all for you. The mere thought of that made your cunt twitch in your bikini, which was now completely soaked; its sleek black fabric covered by translucent honey—not for everyone to see.

You danced between flicks of your tongue and alternating gentle, then demanding sucks. Ellie’s clit pulsed wildly in your mouth, her juices anointing your chin like a sacred nectar. She was the best thing you had ever had, not that you would ever admit it out loud to her.

Ellie’s moans were music to your ears, fucking divine, a soundtrack that was most likely going to play at the back of your mind while pleasuring yourself later on whenever you'd go back home. One of her thighs draped over your shoulder, her leg a soft but firm anchor as you wrapped your arm under the other, pulling her closer. Her taste, her very essence, was all-consuming, and you couldn’t get enough.

Ellie’s teeth finally released the white fabric of her shirt, allowing it to fall back over her toned stomach, her lips swollen and a dazed look in her eyes. “G’na... fuuuuck…” she stammered, the words tumbling out in a deliciously incoherent mix of pleasure and haze, her mind too foggy to form a coherent thought. Ellie was completely lost in every flick of your tongue and every hungry suck on her swollen clit.

You smirked against her, slapping the side of her thigh harshly, right over the pink imprint of your hand already etched into her skin. The sting made her whimper and jerk away from your mouth, but your grip on her thigh brought her back where she belonged. You had made a mess of the green-eyed girl, and stopping was the last thing on your mind, especially with her third orgasm looming.

You were just getting started.

You hummed into her, the vibrations drawing little gasps from Ellie's mouth. You didn't stop. Even when her body couldn't take it anymore and silently pleaded for you to let go, you kept going, taking everything you could from her. Your tongue and lips were relentless, sucking harshly as she squirmed on the white toilet seat, trying weakly to push you away. Her hand at the top of your head was a feeble attempt to escape and move you away from her core, slow you down perhaps, but you didn't budge.

Ellie cried out, her voice breaking into whines as if she were on the verge of tears, your relentless moans against her clit only pushing her further. Despite her desperate warnings that she couldn’t take any more, you didn't stop until a warm flush sprayed against your face, making you pull away instinctively.

The thunderous booms and crackles of the fireworks outside were deafening, drowning out her loud cries and whimpers. Each burst of color and light in the sky timed up perfectly with the waves of ecstasy coursing through her body.

Ellie’s body trembled, her muscles twitching in the aftermath. You looked up at her, eyes glazed with satisfaction, licking your lips and savoring her taste. She was a beautiful wreck, panting heavily, her chest heaving with each breath.

“Did you just—” You glanced down at the glistening pool of her juices on the bathroom floor, eyes lingering on the sight for a moment before looking back up at her. Her cheeks were flushed a deep, rosy red, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. She exhaled shakily, the color on her face intensifying as embarrassment crept in.

The thin layer of sweat on Ellie’s forehead caused her baby hairs to cling to her skin, sticking to the sides of her face. You pulled back, running the back of your hand over your mouth and chin, wiping away the slick evidence from your face.

“Yeah,” she gasped, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

“Didn’t think you were a squirter,” you snorted, your hand coming up to gently stroke her thigh as she sat up on the toilet seat.

“Me neither,” Ellie admitted, her response causing your eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. A sense of satisfaction and pride filled your chest, knowing you were the one who had drawn that intense orgasm from her. As your eyes met, a giggle of contentment escaped your lips.

But the intimacy was suddenly interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Both of you tensed up, eyes widening in alarm at the unexpected disturbance.

“Ellie? You in there?” Dina's voice cut through the heavy atmosphere, her once-slurred words sounding slightly more coherent, likely due to Jesse's intervention in getting her to sober up. The sound of her words was a sudden disturbance, like a splash of cold water that jerked you and Ellie back to reality. You exchanged a hesitant look, both of you struggling to collect yourselves and regain composure

She hastily put her boxers and pants back on, scrambling to get dressed and compose herself. “Yeah, just give me a minute,” she called out hurriedly to Dina, her heart still racing from the recent encounter and the fear of getting caught.

Dina's voice sounded more concerned now, the sound of her trying to open the door sending a jolt of panic through Ellie. “Everything okay?” she asked. “Jesse and I are about to leave.”

“Yeah, shit,” Ellie muttered curses under her breath as you helped her tidy up, both of you scrambling to look presentable. She darted to the sink to clean her face, her voice trembling with nervousness as she lied to Dina, cursing the weed and blaming it for her nausea. Meanwhile, Dina stood outside the bathroom, her ear pressed against the door as she listened intently to the movement and sounds coming from inside.

She tried to open the door again, her interest piqued by the sounds of whispering and rustling coming from inside. “You okay?” she pried. The doorknob rattled loudly, but fortunately, you had secured the door earlier, preventing any potential intrusion. “Need me to come in?”

Ellie’s response was hurried and slightly panicked as she said, “No, no! I’m good, I’m good.” A short while later, the door opened, and a slightly disheveled Ellie emerged with a wide smile, approaching Dina, who looked puzzled and somewhat intoxicated. With her arms crossed, Dina scrutinized her best friend’s appearance, struggling to form a coherent thought.

“Are you okay?” the honey-eyed girl inquired, giving Ellie a once-over and attempting to peek behind her. But she promptly blocked her path.

“I’m feeling fantastic,” Ellie exclaimed with a wide grin, breezing past Dina and narrowly avoiding a collision as she gently guided her away from the doorway. With a quick flick of her wrist, she securely locked the door behind her. “Are you all set to head out?” she asked eagerly, striding off as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, trying to leave the situation behind her.

You heard Dina's footsteps fading into the summer night alive with the sounds of crickets, fireworks, and distant laughter; you let out a long, deep sigh of relief, feeling the cool tiles against your bare back, gradually easing away the tension and anxiety that had built up.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the bar’s dim lighting and background chatter enveloped you once more. You spotted Ellie and Dina near the exit, Dina’s arm around Ellie’s shoulders as they prepared to leave. Ellie glanced back at you, a secretive smile playing on her lips, and you knew that this night had changed everything.

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james-bucky-barnackle · 5 months ago

Text

I mean?

Synopsis: On a press tour with your co-star Sebastian Stan, the interviewer asks you a question about another film he did and the answer surprises him.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Actress!Y/N

Word Count: IDK I'm too sleep deprived to count.

A/N: Bro I am on a resurgence. Might just fuck around and continue writing more fanfics or whatever.

It’s another busy day promoting your new movie with Sebastian, The Road Trip. It's a funny romcom about two best friends going on a long trip to see another friend who your character is dating. Interestingly enough, the guy who plays him is Chris Evans. The interviews are currently being done in pairs, and you're with Sebastian.

You've always been candid, speaking your mind without feeling shy. Deep down, you're a bit of a pessimist, accepting things as they are. When you first heard from your agent that you were cast in The Road Trip alongside Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans, you laughed hysterically. The idea that you, an unconventional beauty, were chosen to be on screen with those two seemed surreal. You never really think about dating co-stars, which helps with acting in general. The media is impressed with how chill you are around A-list actors, and even though it hasn’t fully sunk in yet, the industry has started promoting you to that list.

The interview has been going on for about 15 minutes when another journalist joins, mostly asking about the experience of working with the cast.

“It’s my first romcom, can you believe it?” you say.

“First?!” Sebastian stares in mock disbelief.

“I know, right?!” You feign surprise.

The interviewer continues, “How does it feel to do something lighter and a bit comedic for once?”

“You mean, a movie where no one dies?” Sebastian covers his mouth at your response.

“I mean essentially,” the interviewer laughs. “Wait, no one dies?!” They nudge you playfully.

“I mean, I’m not sure, no spoilers,” you say, breaking the fourth wall and looking into the camera. Sebastian cackles. “It’s definitely refreshing. It feels like going to school for some reason. Like I don’t want to miss a class just because I might miss something wild happening.”

“What?” Sebastian glares. “What school did you go to?”

“I mean, aside from the learning stuff…” You grimace. “It’s fun, honestly. I’d love to do more romcoms. It’s very down-to-earth and just resonates with you so much. I don’t wanna get too cheesy, but I’m such a hopeless romantic—this is my jam.”

“Sebastian, how’s your experience working with Chris again, this time outside of the Marvel universe?”

“Wait, this isn’t in the Marvel Universe?!” you butt in. Sebastian again, fakes a loud gasp. You two laugh. This interview feels like it’s going nowhere.

“It’s totally fun, as Y/N mentioned—it really is like going to class. But most of my scenes are with Y/N, so she’s like the lab partner I’ve never had. Chris was always texting us, checking which location we’re going to be at, making sure we’re scheduled on the same day. It’s fun when we’re both on set.”

You nod in agreement. “Yeah, we’ve got a good rhythm going. It’s like having a little family on set. Plus, Chris is always the one who brings snacks, so that’s a bonus.”

Sebastian laughs. “Oh, absolutely. Chris and his endless supply of trail mix.”

The interviewer chuckles. “Sounds like you all have a great dynamic. Was there a favorite scene you both enjoyed filming together?”

You think for a moment. “I really loved the scene where we’re stuck in the car during that rainstorm. It was so chaotic, but we had a blast improvising and just playing off each other.”

Sebastian nods. “Yeah, that was a good one. The rain machine was going full blast, and we were just trying not to crack up the entire time.”

The interviewer smiles. “It sounds like it was a lot of fun. And the chemistry definitely shows on screen. Speaking of different roles, Y/N, Sebastian’s been in the movie Fresh where he plays a sociopathic killer who preys on lonely women pretending to be a genuine guy.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” you say, laughing, as Sebastian shakes his head.

“Would you, like Noa, fall prey to Steve’s antics?” This question gets a louder laugh from Sebastian as your face shows pure shock. You hold him back with your hand and say,

“I’ve thought about this, to be honest,” you start, looking at Sebastian as he raises his eyebrows, impressed.

“Oh, you have?”

You laugh and continue, patting his thigh and looking back at the interviewer. “Me and my friend talked about it a while back. And it’s frightening because I would’ve probably ended up on a chopping block.”

“Noooo!” Sebastian shouts, “I was rooting for you.”

“No! But, like, you are incredibly good-looking and charismatic. It would be hard not to give my number at the grocery aisle.”

He tilts his head at your response. “Surely not good enough to get yourself killed?!”

“You’d be surprised how far I’d even go,” you say, as the interviewer laughs with you both. “Oh god, I need to call my therapist,” you add, ending the topic with the three of you gagging.

“Might just have to talk to mine too, after hearing that.”

You can already feel TikTok saving this clip and turning it into a meme.

You notice, after you call Sebastian good-looking, he’s been eyeing you sideways and biting his lip. As if he’s suddenly gone bashful. You can’t help but feel a boost in your ego. Could it be that Stan is shy? You make it a point to tease him for the remainder of the interview.

“What’s something funny or unexpected that happened on set?”

“Oh, there were so many moments,” you start. “One time, we were filming this really serious scene, and out of nowhere, a bird flew into the set and landed right on Sebastian’s shoulder.”

Sebastian laughs. “Yeah, I had no idea what to do. I just froze, and then Y/N started making bird noises to try and get it to fly away.”

You laugh, nodding. “It took a good ten minutes to get back into character after that. Everyone was cracking up.”

The interviewer grins. “That sounds hilarious. It’s great to hear that you all had such a good time. Speaking of moments on set, were there any funny or awkward moments while filming the more romantic or intimate scenes?”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, plenty. Like the time we were shooting that kiss scene in the rain, and Y/N kept slipping on the wet pavement.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Hey, it was slippery! You were the one who can’t stop laughing during takes.”

Sebastian laughs. “True, true. But come on, we both know it was because you were so nervous about kissing me.” You notice him biting back.

You gasp in mock offense. “Excuse me, I was not nervous! I was just...distracted by how ridiculously good-looking you are. It’s hard to concentrate when you have that face right in front of you.” He smiles uncontrollably again, feeling defeated by your nonchalance. He wonders, how are you so good at this?

The interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying the banter. “So, who do you think had the hardest time keeping a straight face during those scenes?”

You both point at each other simultaneously, then laugh.

Sebastian leans back, shaking his head. “Definitely Y/N. There was this one scene where we were supposed to be having this deep, romantic conversation, and she just couldn’t stop giggling.”

You nudge him playfully. “Well, you weren’t helping with all your ad-libs! You kept whispering things like, ‘Is that your stomach growling or are you just happy to see me?’”

Sebastian laughs. “Hey, I was trying to lighten the mood! And let’s not forget the scene where we had to stare into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity. I swear, Y/N, you blink more than anyone I know.”

You smirk. “Only because I was trying to avoid getting lost in those baby blues of yours.” At this point, Sebastian was laughing hard, but feeling nervous at your jokes. He secretly wished it were all real, his ears were red and hot. He’s already thinking of how to approach you after the interview and get himself out of the friend zone which he didn’t even thought he’d be in, having found a new interest in you.

The interviewer looks between the two of you, amused. “It sounds like you both had a lot of fun with it. Do you think all that chemistry will translate to the screen?”

Sebastian nods. “Oh, definitely. I think our off-screen dynamic really helped make the on-screen relationship feel more genuine. Plus, Y/N here is an amazing actress. She made it easy.”

You smile, feeling a bit bashful. “Well, Sebastian’s not too bad himself. It’s hard not to enjoy working with someone who’s so talented and, let’s be honest, ridiculously attractive.”

Here she goes again .Sebastian grins. “Right back at you. But let’s be real, we’re both just incredibly good-looking people trying to make a movie here.” The internet is gonna have a field day.

The interviewer laughs. “Sounds like a tough job! Any last funny or romantic moments you’d like to share?”

You think for a moment. “There was this one scene where we had to dance together. Neither of us are professional dancers, so there were a lot of missteps and toe-stepping. But it ended up being one of the sweetest scenes because it felt so real and unpolished.”

Sebastian nods. “Yeah, that was a great scene. It was supposed to be this perfectly choreographed dance, but it turned into us just goofing around and having fun. I think it really captured the essence of our characters' relationship.”

The interviewer smiles, clearly delighted by your stories. “Well, thank you both for sharing these wonderful moments. It’s been a pleasure talking with you.”

As you and Sebastian leave the interview room, you head towards the lobby where a few other cast members are mingling. The energy is still high from the fun and laughter of the interview. Sebastian nudges you playfully as you walk.

“Hey, remember in the interview when you called me incredibly good-looking and charismatic?” he teases, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You roll your eyes, grinning. “Oh, come on. Don’t let it go to your head, Stan.”

He chuckles. “Too late. I’m pretty sure I’m going to bring that up every chance I get now.”

“You would,” you laugh, shaking your head. “ It’s not like I was lying.”

Sebastian stops walking, turning to face you. “Well, thank you. And for the record, you’re pretty incredible yourself. Both on screen and off.”

You feel a warm blush creeping up your cheeks, putting a palm to your chest as if to continue the gag. “Thanks, Seb. That means a lot.”

He smiles, his eyes softening. “No, really, it’s been really great working with you. I think we make a pretty good team.”

“I think so too,” you agree, feeling a flutter in your stomach, you realize he’s actually serious now. There’s a moment of silence as you both just look at each other, the playful teasing from earlier now replaced with something more tender.

Sebastian breaks the silence first. “So, what do you say we celebrate wrapping up the promotion tour? Maybe dinner tonight?”

You raise an eyebrow, teasingly. “Is this your way of asking me out, Stan?”

He grins, a little sheepishly. “Maybe it is. What do you think?”

You pretend to think about it for a moment, then nod. “I think it sounds like a great idea.”

“Perfect,” he says, looking genuinely pleased. “I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“Eight it is."

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silken-moonlight · 5 months ago

Text

Lessons by the fae

A/n: This was such a loveley request to do! Thank you so much @ the person who send me this request.

You were the type of person who was easily distracted by everything around you. A wild child. Your mother sent you and your sister out to gather blueberries, but you got distracted and returned with a big bouquet of flowers instead. On walks they had to make sure that you didn’t wander off, mesmerized by a butterfly or dragonfly. Running after rabbits and watching the deers in the meadow. Abolishing shoes and sock in any weather, running barefeet. Hair open and wild, sometimes returning with little braids you claimed have been done by the faires.

It got so bad that you snuck out at night to watch over hedgehogs that were crossing the street near your house. Telling your siblings they were on a way to the secret hedgehog council. Sometimes you heard singing from the woods, wanting to chase after it. To find its cause. Telling your parents that the forest called to you, that you want to go there.

The other villagers told your parents to be careful, the light folk were known to kidnap children and raise them as their own. The whole village was afraid you would be snuck away, never to be seen again.

So…your family moved to the city. You woodland adventurers were forgotten, entirely wiped away from your memories a few years after…

But now you were back, in the village you grew up in, opening the old house that belonged to your grandmother. She had passed away, leaving the house for you. Being the only person to tell your parents: Let the child be, the fae won’t harm her.

Not that you’d remember these days anyway. You were now a child of the city, not used to so much silence and peace. After visiting for two weeks you decided to uproot your life and move back here. An instant connection to your old town, to the old forest right behind the house. People welcomed you with open arms, glad that a ‘new’ face had joined the village.

You were incredibly happy there, the peace and calm working wonders on you. In the city you had trouble sleeping and intense winter depression. Here everything was different, you woke up happy and immediately fell into deep sleep in the evening. Life was perfect in your house at the edge of the forest.

That was until you decided to take a little venture into the forest. You remembered faintly always walking the deer paths of the forest. Slim paths going through the endless trees. Brining you to meadows and lakes nobody knew that existed. Nostalgia overtook you.

Then you heard it, chimes in the wind, little bells and…tender singing. Mesmerized you followed the singing and the voices. Ignoring all the warnings in your head, blocking out the voices of your parents that yelled at you to never walk alone in the forest again. You were too curious, too naive.

“What do we have here?” A deep voice sounded left from you. Startled, you turned around, only to see two…people standing there. “A little human,” The other said. Voices, luring like a lullaby. Making you feel safe. Your breath was caught by their stunning beauty. The left was a woman, dressed in golden clothes, her hair golden blonde, eyes that shone like gold, eyelashes and brows golden in color as well. Her make up - also in yellow and gold.

On the right there was a man, dressed completely in silver, the perfect opposite. His clothes, hair, eyes, eyebrows and lashes - all in silver.

“Who are you?” You managed to ask, your voice strained. Their beauty was too much for your mind to comprehend. “You can call me Silver.” The man answered, walking around you in circles. “And you can call me Gold.” The woman said and walked the other way around.

“And who are you?” They asked with a smirk. Their voices were smooth. “You…can call me Star.” You answered, remembering not to give fae your name. The woman chuckled: “Smart girl, pretty girl. Not giving us your name…” Her voice was a purr as she stood in front of you, cupping your cheek. Her touch was gentle, her eyes so kind, you felt safe in the strangest of ways. “However, you walked into our home, and we do not like trespassers.” The man whispered into your ear from behind. His voice made you shudder. “I am very sorry.” You tried but the woman shushed you:”You need to learn your lesson, little human. Apologizing with words won’t do…Gladly you are so adorable, blessed with such doe eyes. What do you say Silver, shall we keep her as a pet?” The man hummed:” Maybe, let’s taste her first.” You were afraid they thought of literally eating you, wanting to say something but your lips were sealed by Gold’s lips.

To your own surprise you didn’t stop her, no, you enjoyed it. Closing your eyes as she kissed you with lips that tasted like honey. Their hands held you tight, beginning to roam your body and igniting such heat between your legs. “Good pet.” Silver hummed and grabbed your throat, bending you away from Gold to kiss you himself. “Let me taste her too.” He said to Gold and devoured your mouth, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Gold chuckled: “What an eager pet, look how she complies. Your mind was hazy, lost in those kisses they gave you. Their hands began to undress you, fabric slipping down your body until you stood bare in the woods. A breeze caressing your skin.

Their mouths found your neck, making you let out silent moans as they began to cover your neck in the eagerest of kisses. Your hands were guided by them to touch them too, your left massaged Gold’s breast as your right cupped Silver’s crotch. They moaned, enjoying your eagerness.

Suddenly you were on your back on a makeshift bed of moss and blankets. They must have used magic to summon it out of nowhere. Your head was in the lap of Gold as Silver kissed down your body. Your breath went quick as you watched him, whimpers left your mouth. You looked up at Gold who grinned down at you: “Pretty girl…Our girl…” She purred and began to massage your breast, pinching your nipples and making you yelp. Suddenly there was a tongue liking up and down your pussy, your gaze darting down. Silver began to eat you out, moaning into your beautiful cunt. “So delicious, I might stay here for a few hours.” He told Gold who chuckled: “Take your time, she loves it. Don’t you?” You nodded eagerly, his mouth immediately returning to your human pussy. His tongue was eager, longer and more bending than a human tongue. Vines wrapped around your thighs, their leaves having a silver sheen, spreading your legs for Silver. His lips sucking your clit, making you see stars and wriggling around. Gold’s hands teased your nipples, playing with them and pinching. Though she grew bored soon enough. “Time to put your shy mouth to use.” She whispered into your ear, you nodded, ready for anything she wanted. Silver suddenly sucked your clit inside his mouth, making you yelp and thrash, cumming against his face. Both of them giggled: “One of many.” Silver crooned, continuing to eat you out after that. No break, no mercy, just pleasure.

Gold got up behind you, removing her golden dress and underwear. She kneeled over you, presenting you with the most beautiful pussy you have ever seen. She was wet, probably aroused since she saw you. Without her asking you to, you began to kiss and lick. Gold moaned, closing her eyes. You were eager, lost in the want to make her cum. Her hand found your hair, guiding you and grinding into your face. You smirked, happy that you could give something back. Without a warning, you came again, Silver moaning into your cunt. Your arousal aroused him and seeing you eating out Gold as if your life depended on it made him incredibly hard. It didn’t take long for Gold to cum too. For an entire time you stayed like this, all of you cumming and pleasing.

Suddenly Gold lay on top of you, your hands reaching up to touch her pointy ears. She moaned loudly, looking down at you: “Yo…You…” She whispered. You didn’t know how intimate it was to touch a fae’s ears. It was more intimate than having sex. It was far more important than sex. You didn’t know that, so you continued to explore her ears while sucking hickey’s on her skin. You were so lost in your passion of making her moan that Silver was jealous and wanted your attention too, so without a proper warning he buried his fae cock inside your wet cunt. You moaned, held onto Gold who giggled at that. Silver pounded you into the makeshift bed as if his life depended on it. Gold held you down for him, cheering him on. “Take her Silver, make her juices spill onto the moss.” He definitely achieved that. Gold sat up, turned around on you so that she could look at where Silver’s dick impaled your pussy. His cock was bigger than the ones you taken, his tip brushing against all your senstive spots at once. You would loose your mind. Gold's hand found your clit and rubbed tight fast circles as she began to grind on your lower belly. You grabbed her hips, helping her to grind as your legs began to tremble. You were so exhausted already, but you just couldn’t stop. “Good pet.” Silver praised you, grabbing your legs harder. “Help your new masters to cum, you clench so good around my cock.” His voice was hoarse by now. “Clench harder for Silver, pet.” Gold crooned. Their words made you clench and cum. They came too after hearing your little moans.A knot seemed to swell in your lower belly and suddenly burst. Your whole body trembled as you squirted all over the two of them.

“Look at that…” Silver said and chuckled. “Such a good human.” They crooned. Gold giggled and got down From you, they changed positions and Gold's mouth was on you pussy, lapping up all your juices as Silver fucked her from behind, cheering her on:”Make her scream, Gold.” And That was exactly what she did.

Your body twitched in overstimulation and you whined. Wiggling to get away from the intense stimulation, but vines with golden letters held you down all of the sudden. You were just a little Pet for those fae who had such fun Playing with you.

You came another time, Your legs twitching violently. Tears streaming down your face from the immense pleasure. Your mind was torn between ther need to cum and the need to stop. Your mind was fuzzy, your visin blurry. Your hands grabbed the moss beneath you, desperatly trying to hold on to something, anything. Once again they changed positions, Silver fucking you and rubbing your puffy clit while Gold grinded on your lower belly and began to kiss you intensly, your mouth devoured by her tongue.

You closed your eyes, lost in their pleasure, lost in the need to please them and to cum and for it to stop. Suddenly Silver moaned in an language unknown to you and came inside of you. Gold, upon heariing him, came as well. Pushing you into an shee neverending orgasm..

They got up and looked down at you:”I think she learned a thing or two about trespassing…”Their faint giggle was everything you heared before you drifted into unconciousness.

When youh opened your eyes again, you found yourself in your bed, cleaned up and in clothes you did not recognize. On your bedside table stood a leafformed plate with a sandwhich and a flower formed chalice with a pinkish liquid inside.

Would you take the risk and drink and eat farie food? Your pussy definetly agreed on doing that the way she twitched…

Divider Credit @saradika-graphics

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster boyfriend #monsterlover #monster bf #monster fuqqer #monster romance #monster kink #monster smut #fae folk #fae fucker #fae lover #fairy #light folk #ns/fw #18+ mdni #mdni #fae

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theother-victoria · 1 year ago

Text

all stars must die one day

SYNOPSIS: it’s always been him- stupidly perfect and handsome Alhaitham who you saw as the bane of your academic achievements. Three years later and now so much has changed. He misses you. He misses your endless bickering and meaningless fights. Why did you change so much? It’s a mystery he makes up his mind to resolve.

CHARACTERS: Alhaitham, gossip circle consisting of Kaveh, Tighnari, and Lisa + the rest of the Sumeru cast

TAGS: heavy angst w/fluff, academic burnout, burnt-out gifted kid, mild profanity, gn reader, reader is briefly mentioned to be shorter than Alhaitham, toxic family dynamics, 15.7k+ word count

NOTES: college decisions and my experiences from the past two years really compelled me to write this. If you’re going through burnout, know that you’re not alone and that you can do this.

this took me almost half a year to finish wtf

NEXT | LAST

There’s a comet that crosses Sumeru’s skies only once in a lifetime.

Alhaitham had heard some Rtawahsit students discussing it the other day. They were practically buzzing with excitement over the news of its reappearance.

“Isn’t this the perfect opportunity?”

“How lucky are we to be able to witness it?”

“Even our professors are excited about it!”

Alhaitham couldn’t care less. The phenomena of celestial events, while dazzling, are easily explained by science. It’s not like they were anything special either. At their heart, they’re composed of ordinary materials- rock, dust, water, and ice, plus other chemicals.

He puts it out of his mind until he’s rudely awoken one night by loud noises outside the window. A flash of annoyance runs through him as he gets up and looks out to glare at the crowd of students passing through. A glance at their berets tells him they’re Rtawahsit students. They’re trying their best to be quiet, but when it’s practically an entire Darshan on the move, that becomes a difficult task.

It seems as if he’s not the only one that was woken up. Other familiar faces are peeking through cracked-open windows. Lisa, Cyno, and Tighnari all yawn while watching the crowd of students pass by before looking at each other and following them. Kaveh, who has just woken up from his spot across the room, gives Alhaitham one last look before leaving.

Alhaitham closes the window and flops back onto his bed. He covers his ears with his pillow and closes his eyes, attempting to fall back asleep. He never cared for what other people thought or did, so why should he blindly follow the crowd? He wasn’t even curious anyway.

But for some strange reason, he can’t seem to fall asleep. He tosses and turns, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration, before finally getting up to put his restless mind at ease.

It’s easy to figure out where everyone has gone. All he has to do is follow the sounds of chatter. It leads him to the top of the Divine Tree the city is built upon. There, Rtawahsit students are busy setting up their telescopes while others have pen and paper at their disposal for note-taking. Professors guide said students while those from other Darshans watch on in curiosity and gaze at the sky in anticipation.

Tighnari and the others beckon him over. He squeezes himself into the secluded corner they claimed for themselves, poking Kaveh with his limbs intentionally in the process. To his surprise, you’re there too. You lean against Lisa’s arm and shoot him a little glare that lacks any real hate before turning back to the sky, glaring at him when he decides to sit in front of you and block your view.

“Look!” shouts a student. “It’s started!”

Almost immediately, everybody goes silent. Only the sounds of birds and wildlife can be heard, along with the quiet breathing of everyone searching wildly for it.

(He’s acutely aware of the warm puffs of air that tickle the back of his neck when you exhale. It shouldn’t be this distracting, but it is. Is this your way of getting back at him?)

There’s an excited gasp from a girl with her telescope. She wildly gestures toward the sky and Alhaitham sees a bright speck of light out of the corner of his eye. Several smaller meteors zip through the sky, but everybody’s attention is on the largest one. It outshines all the other stars in the sky as it speeds by, heating up into a white-hot glow and leaving a glittering trail of blue stardust behind. It is a star not of this world, speeding onward toward its destination- toward something greater.

“Look,” he hears Lisa whisper. He briefly tears his attention from the sky to see her lean toward you. “Make a wish.”

Alhaitham sees you close your eyes for a moment before opening them again. What did you just wish for?

It’s gone in just a few minutes, heading toward the horizon until not even a pinprick of its light can be seen anymore. The sky is now dark again. With the main event over, most people begin getting up to return to their rooms. His eyes linger on your form, now walking away. Lisa’s voice from earlier repeats in his head.

“Make a wish.”

It’s a childish belief not rooted in reason- he knows that. But for just a second, he closes his eyes and makes a wish.

He met you at the start of his first year.

It’s too loud here. I want to go home already.

From his seat in the back of the room, he watches as spots gradually fill up as the start time draws nearer. Much to his delight, everybody leaves his spot in the back of the classroom alone, instead opting to sit toward the front.

That is until someone sits down in the row in front of him. He looks up from the pages of his book, slightly annoyed. Curses, now he couldn’t be by himself anymore. But they leave him alone and keep to themselves as the professor walks in and introduces himself and the class, so he tolerates it.

There’s a light tap on his desk. He looks up to see you watching him expectantly. He’s able to get his first good look at you now. Your Akademiya uniform is a little too big on you and the sleeves drape over your hands. Your green hat sits lopsidedly on your head and you have the air of a starry-eyed and enthusiastic first-year student.

“Yes?”

“The professor told us to introduce ourselves to those around us,” you explain. “I’m (Name).”

“Alhaitham. Pleased to meet you.”

You nod in response and turn back around. Your professor is explaining the course and handing the syllabus out, but your mind wanders toward the guy sitting behind you whom you’ve just met.

He’s cute, you think to yourself. In like, a little kid or puppy kind of way. He’s still a little short and scrawny- wait, how old is he anyway? Don’t tell me he’s one of those child prodigies that got in at a super young age… Or maybe he’s just a late bloomer, who knows?

A few weeks later, the results of your first test roll around. The 98 scribbled and circled in red ink at the top of the paper makes you nod in satisfaction. It’s indicative of a good start, but when you take a look at the board in front of the class, you see someone has gotten a perfect score.

And it turns out the culprit himself sits right behind you.

You glare at the 100% in red ink at the top of his page as if it has personally offended you. As if to further insult you, there was a small “good job!” written in the margins by the professor that you didn’t have on your paper.

“A 98? Good, but not perfect. Perhaps you should have studied more,” he nonchalantly remarks after seeing yours. Your eye twitches in irritation.

Oh, it is so on.

From that day onward, you swore to yourself that you would beat Alhaitham, no matter what it took. Even if it meant sleepless nights spent hunched over your notes and textbooks, they were all a price you were willing to pay to prove that you were the undisputed best.

Soon after, you don’t see Alhaitham in class anymore. His seat behind you is left unoccupied and you hear rumors that he opted for self-study instead- whatever that was. Despite that, he still gets top marks in everything, only serving to annoy you and spur you onward.

However, you still see him at the library, and frequently at that. It’s somewhat surprising, considering that the Akasha Terminal has the same function and is more convenient. As a result, the library is mostly empty save for the few students that are there to study materials that aren’t entered into the Akasha’s database. You’re there because you prefer the quiet, focused environment of the library to your dorm, which despite the Akademiya and its students' almost religious devotion to academics, can get a little too rowdy for your liking at times. Plus, you prefer the feeling of a physical book in your hands over its digitized counterpart in the Akasha. It makes it easier to take notes and learn that way.

Recently, you’ve found a spot in the library that you’ve taken a liking to. It’s located in the back and obscured by bookshelves, giving you some much-needed privacy while you study and it’s located by a window, allowing for ample natural light.

But apparently, someone else has already claimed it, unbeknownst to you.

“This is my spot.”

You don’t even look up from your book. The voice alone was a dead giveaway as to who was speaking.

“And? I didn’t see your name on it.”

Alhaitham sits at the seat across from you, purposefully spreading his books and other materials across the desk to push yours off to the side. A satisfied smirk twitches at the corners of his lips when he sees your eyes narrow in irritation.

“Are you here just to bother me?”

“If I wanted to bother you, I’d find other ways to do it.”

You huff in annoyance and turn the page. He watches you over the top of his book with intrigue as you alternate between reading and taking notes.

“... Will you quit staring at me like that? It’s distracting.”

“Oh? So you’re admitting that I’m a distraction?”

“You-!”

A sharp hiss to be quiet from a librarian passing by silences you both temporarily. You glare at him accusingly, which he merely brushes off.

There’s a reluctant compromise that arises between you after that. Every day after class, you would meet at the same spot in the library to study. You would sit across from each other and work independently from each other until it was time to go, where you’d then say your goodbyes before heading your separate ways. Rinse and repeat and that was what your average day looked like.

“So, what’s up with that thing between you and (Name)?”

You pause from your studying after overhearing that line and look up. Across the clearing are Alhaitham and a blond-haired man. Kaveh, if you recall his name correctly.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply,” replies Alhaitham.

“Is there some sort of competition between you two? Whenever I see you guys, you’re basically at each other’s throats over test scores and stuff.”

“There is no such competition. That would be a pointless waste of my time and energy.”

The urge to throw your book at his head across the clearing is strong, but you’ll settle for Kaveh giving him a doubtful expression.

“You say that and yet you’ve been putting more work into your studies than ever.”

“That’s none of your business.”

But for all your efforts, you can’t seem to catch up to him. He was always one step- or rather, one point- ahead of you. He’d always be there, subtly rubbing his achievements right in your face even though the difference is practically negligible at least half of the time.

It gets to the point where you begin to rant about your troubles to Lisa.

“Can you believe this guy? It makes me wonder if he’s a sadist of some sort that gets a kick out of annoying me.”

You’re sitting outside in one of the many gazebos around the Akademiya. Despite studying under a different Darshan, you quickly became friends with her.

She laughs lightly at your words.

“To me, it sounds like your poor heart is troubled! Shall doctor Lisa perform a checkup on you?”

You swat her hand away.

“Don’t play with me like that. And you’re not even an Amurta student!”

You hear footsteps coming down the pathway and speak of the devil, the topic of your conversation is walking toward you, his book in hand as always. You watch him out of the corner of your eye. He meets your gaze and holds it for several long, agonizing seconds before looking forward again and disappearing out of sight. You shudder and look away, Lisa chuckling lightly at your actions.

“Asshole,” you grumble. “What’s his problem? And did you see how cold his eyes were? Makes me wonder if the rumors of him having a heart of ice are true…”

Lisa hesitates at that.

“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong, (Name).”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

She purses her lips and looks off to the side.

“It’s hard to explain, even for me. But you’ll see and come to understand in due time how acutely aware he is of the emotions of those around him, especially those he is close to.”

You think you understand the meaning of her words a few weeks later when the results of a particularly rough test greet you.

75%

Damn it, you think before roughly shoving the papers into your bag, away from the prying eyes of your classmates. I can’t falter here now. I still have so much more to do.

“I can tutor you if you’d like. I don’t offer this to just anyone, so I’d advise you to consider it,” Alhaitham says in the library later that day. You know that most people would kill for this opportunity and you weren’t blinded by jealousy to the point where you couldn’t see the benefit of his offer.

But your pride prevents you from accepting it.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’d rather do this myself.”

Another time, Alhaitham has to get up at a time when he should be asleep. Earlier that day, he had left a book of his behind and forgotten about it until now, leaving him to search the now-dark and empty halls of the Akademiya for where it might be.

He happens to pass by the House of Daena on the way and sees a solitary lamp lit in the back corner where he usually frequents. Out of sheer curiosity, he steps inside to see there’s a familiar figure hunched over the desk, clearly fast asleep with piles upon piles of books and notes stacked around them.

Alhaitham gazes down at you with his ever-impassive eyes, silently wondering what to do next. A cold gust of air blows through the library and he shivers slightly. He looks down at your exposed arms, then at his jacket, before taking it off and draping it over your form. Catching a cold would serve you no good and you’d most likely return it to him later tomorrow.

Before he leaves, his curiosity gets the better of him and he takes a quick peek at your notes.

His eyes widen ever so slightly. Much of the material scattered around your desk was far ahead of what you were and needed to be learning. Did you borrow these books and notes from upperclassmen? The handwriting is a mix of yours and someone else’s… He doesn’t see the point in you doing so- it’s all just unnecessary work, in his opinion. Either way, it’s none of his business and you can do as you please, but Alhaitham can’t help but wonder if you were doing all of this just to stay ahead- to keep up or even surpass him.

He leaves and you wake up soon after to something warm and soft covering your shoulders. It’s a standard Akademiya-issued jacket for the fall and winter terms. It’s way too big on you and the sleeves completely cover your hands. Curiously, you pull it tighter around your form. It smells nice- like old books and coffee- and you suddenly realize who it belongs to. Your face suddenly flushes and it’s not from the warmth of the jacket.

Alhaitham-!

The next day, Alhaitham arrives at his usual spot in the library. You’re sitting across from him as usual and interestingly refuse to make eye contact with him.

Sumeru’s climate has always been temperate, but the days are getting longer and warmer now. You’ve finally shed your winter uniform for your spring one and with the end of the year rapidly approaching comes major tests. The library is the most packed it's ever been with students everywhere cramming last-minute. It’s rare to find an empty table now, but thankfully your spot in the back with Alhaitham is still left unoccupied. If not, Alhaitham’s cold glare is more than enough to scare them away.

For one of your classes, it’s a project instead of a test. You have the option to choose the type of project, but for some stupid reason, your professor was still assigning partners instead of being able to choose.

“And (Name), let’s see… hmm, I’ll pair you up with Alhaitham. How does that sound?”

Your blood runs cold and you hear your classmates snicker around you. You want to scream at the prospect of it. Sumeru would sooner freeze over before the two of you cooperate and he knows it. You catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye, daring you to say no.

You swallow your pride and nod. The tips of your ears burn and at that moment, you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

“... That sounds fine.”

How humiliating.

Later that day in the library, he’s even more infuriating than normal, if that’s even possible. His face betrays nothing but you can hear the smugness dripping from his voice and mannerisms. His arms crossed in front of his chest, the way he would subtly look down on you with that know-it-all gaze… it all made you want to punch his (handsome) face.

“Don’t fall behind now,” he says once you’ve finally settled on a project.

“Let’s see if you can even keep up with me.”

Your project is relatively straightforward but involves a lot of cooperation between you two. As you work, it becomes an all-too-common sight to see you arguing everywhere you go, much to the irritation of others.

“I’m telling you, this character has to be symbolic of rebirth! Why else would we see it so concentrated in scripts that were dated toward the end of that civilization?”

“You seem to be forgetting that this has also been seen elsewhere. Besides, there are reasons to believe that it means something else.”

“What, did it get lost in translation? If you think you’re so smart, then go ahead and enlighten me.”

You glare at him as he sips his coffee (with milk and two sugars, you note. Just the way he likes it).

“God, can they just kiss already?” grumbles Kaveh from where he sits across the room. Lisa and Tighnari sitting at the same table nodded in agreement.

“Meeting up to work outside of class is normal, but over lunch? Sounds like a date to me,” complains Tighnari while not-so-subtly eyeing the way you animatedly bicker with him.

“Hey, isn’t this Alhaitham’s treat as well?” asks Kaveh. Tighnari’s ears twitch and perk up at his question. He glances at the both of you- Alhaitham just paused to ask if you’d like a refill of your tea, and you said yes- before groaning.

“It sure looks like it…”

Lisa decides to take matters into her own hands.

“Are you two arguing or flirting?” she asks in a loud voice.

“Arguing!” you retort. Alhaitham merely rolls his eyes and steals one of your samosas while you aren’t looking.

“I saw that! Give it back!”

“Too late.”

Two months, lots of bickering, and lots of coffee later, you present the culmination of your work to the class. For all the headaches and lost sleep you had to endure, your efforts are handsomely rewarded with a perfect score and rare compliments from your professor. And for that alone, it was well worth everything you went through.

“Good job. It was a rewarding experience working with you. I daresay that our arguments aside, we make for a decent team.”

You look up to see Alhaitham.

“Oh? A rare compliment from the stoic and sharp-tongued man himself?”

“Don’t make me retract my words.”

“Ouch, how cold of you.”

When you return to your dorm later that night, there’s a note addressed to you from Lisa.

I overheard one of your professors talking about you and Alhaitham with someone else today- Professor Behnam, I think that was his name? I’m fairly sure this was after you guys presented because they mentioned that briefly. I wrote this down in a hurry as they were speaking, but here’s what he said:

They complement each other perfectly. While they both have unmatched erudition and wit, one has the creativity and uninhibited ambition the other tends to lack. However, he is more pragmatic and logical. Despite their differences, they make for a perfect team.

They will surely be among some of the best scholars the Akademiya has seen in a long time.

You end your first year tied for the top of the class with him.

“I’m home!”

“Welcome home, (Name)! How were your last few weeks at the Akademiya?”

Your parents’ home is as warm and welcoming as always. The house has been freshly cleaned and is practically shining. They take your bags and usher you into the kitchen, where your favorite dishes are sitting on the kitchen table, freshly cooked for dinner with steam still rising from them.

“It’s been fine,” you say. “Stressful, but also enjoyable. I like my classes and I get along with my classmates and professors.”

“How are your grades? Have they been finalized yet?”

You nod and beam them with pride.

“Ended the year at the top of the class.”

Your parents’ eyes widen and they clap excitedly.

“That’s our child!”

“As brilliant and talented as always!”

“Good, keep going! Remember to study for money!”

“I will!”

Your mother leans in close and clasps your hand in hers. “After these four years, you should continue your education and become a sage! Maybe even work your way up and become the next Grand Sage!”

You balk at the prospect of it.

“A-A sage? Mom, there are tons of talented people in the Akademiya- that’s where the best of the best go to study! The chances that I’ll make it to that point are slim!”

Your father clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“Nonsense!” he exclaims. “You ended this year at the top of your class, you know. Besides, you inherited the intelligence of both your parents- I’d imagine that this would be a doable task for you. Also, imagine how amazing it would be if you were to become a sage! You’d be the first one in the family! Wouldn’t that be such an achievement for us?”

“That’s not even true! There was someone else who tied with me for the top of the class as well and if I’m being honest, he has a better shot at it than me!”

Your mom’s eyes sharpen and you instantly regret saying that.

“He? So… a guy, huh?”

You mentally brace yourself for a barrage of questions.

“What’s his name? What’s he like? How smart is he? Is he good enough for you? Does he have-”

“Dear, stop it,” your father says. “Look, you’re overwhelming them.”

You sigh and shake your head. “For starters, his name is Alhaitham-”

“Alhaitham? I’ve heard that name somewhere before… wait, I remember now!” exclaims your father. “His grandmother was a Ksharewar scholar. His mother was a renowned Vahumana scholar and his father was a mentor in Haravatat.”

“Was?” you ask. Your father bites his lip and looks away.

“... His grandmother passed away a few years ago and from what I heard, so did his parents when he was young.”

“Oh.”

The kitchen is silent for a few moments before your father breaks it.

“Wait, (Name), why do you look so surprised? I thought you knew this already, considering he’s your rival and everything! I thought you would at least know something about him.”

“Dad, that’s exactly the point- we’re rivals and I don’t want to know anything about him! All that matters is beating him at his own game and that’s that. Besides, he never tells me anything about his personal life, so why should I do the same?”

“They’re right, you know.”

Your father merely rolls his eyes at your mother’s remark.

“You know the rules, don’t get too close to him now,” your mother warns. “You have to do whatever it takes to be the best, whatever? That’s what you promised us.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, mom, I know. I’ll do my best to become a sage.”

Your parents lean in to hold you close, your mother giving you a soft kiss on the forehead.

“That’s our child. Make us proud, ok?”

“I will!”

After a lovely three months of summer vacation (and not being forced to see Alhaitham every day save for the rare occasions where you’d run into him in public- you’d immediately turn the other way and act as if nothing happened), you head back to the Akademiya for your second year. Like last year, you share many of your classes with the bane of your existence, although things are… less tense than they were before. The underlying spark of competition is still there, but not as prominent as before.

Alhaitham is pleasantly surprised at how you’ve mellowed out over the summer. Something in your eyes has hardened and the way your mouth is set is different now. You’ve lost some of the baby fat in your cheeks (shame, he enjoyed poking and prodding at them, much to your annoyance) and you’ve grown a bit taller as well. He’s grown taller as well and to your irritation, he’s gaining on you. He’s put on some muscle as well and according to Kaveh, who you befriended over the summer, he’s started learning the art of the sword.

(“What for?” you had asked back then. He had merely shrugged.

“Too much free time on his hands, I guess. I thought he was training to be a mercenary at first.”

“I just can’t imagine him with a sword. In my mind, I see him toppling over from the weight of it.”

“Same here.”)

On the first day back, you merely greet him with a nod and you’re less opposed to working with him than before- although you can’t seem to break the habit of making a sarcastic jab at him now and then.

As the year progresses though, Alhaitham notices a change in you- namely, your test scores. He catches a glimpse of them sticking out of your folder at the library.

85%. 75%. 83%. 79%. They’re not as good as they were last year but they aren’t a concern for Alhaitham. As far as he knows, you’re still doing good overall and your classes are getting harder. It’s only reasonable and he hasn’t observed any noticeable or drastic changes in your personality, so it doesn’t warrant any concern.

That is, in his eyes. The same can’t be said for you though.

You didn't realize how much time you had spent studying until the library was closed one day. Sitting at your cramped desk with your roommate you barely know nowhere in sight, you’re suddenly aware of how quiet it is. Normally, you’d hear at least something- people arguing down the hall and music playing, among others. But today, it was eerily silent.

From the back of your mind, you recall news of a party that was supposed to be happening around this time. Lisa extended an invitation to you but you turned it down, claiming that you had to study. It was a bullshit excuse, now that you think about it.

(Lisa had looked at you knowingly when you said that, but not in a good way. Worry was present in her eyes, resigned to the fact that she couldn’t do anything.

“Alright,” she had said. “Just… don’t head down the path I think you’re on.”)

Your pen freezes mid-stroke as a horrifying thought crosses your mind. You now finally understand the true meaning of her words.

Have I… been making the right decisions? How much have I missed out on?

Your books and the allure of good grades tempt you, but you force yourself to evaluate your life so far. You have some of the highest marks in the entire class but you realize you have almost no experience or connections, and that was what really mattered.

All of the studying in the world can’t compare to pulling a few strings, after all.

Not long after the year starts, Alhaitham notices that you’ve started going out more. You’re spending less of your time at the library during weekends and instead spending time with friends in the city.

(“You actually have a life outside of the Akademiya. I’m surprised.”

“I should be the one telling you that.”)

“Come on, (Name), come join us at the tavern tonight! We booked the place and everyone is going to be there! You’re missing out if you don’t, just saying…”

The familiar voice belonging to a certain blond makes you look up. You huff a sigh and set your notes down to glare at Kaveh, who has been pestering you to go to a party at Lambad’s Tavern tonight. You’re about to tell him you’re not interested when you stop just short of saying so.

Will I regret saying no?

“(Name), you’re young right now! Take some risks and live life a little, otherwise, you’ll have nothing to look back fondly on once you’re all old and wrinkly! That old dusty rock-of-a-friend Alhaitham would say the same thing, you know… although, maybe he’d phrase it differently.”

Kaveh’s right, you realize. I can make up a test. I can always study later. But I’m only young for a little while. I can’t make up for lost time.

“Just curious- what’s in it for me?”

“Oh, the usual. Free food, entertainment, a break from these stupid books, alcohol- oh, and you might get to see a rare drunk Alhaitham there! Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

“No need to venture into that territory. You already had me at the free food part. So, what time?”

Later that evening at the tavern, you realize Kaveh wasn’t kidding when he said everyone was going to be there- he really did mean everyone the moment you step inside. Lisa is the center of attention with wide-eyed students gawking at her alcohol tolerance- seriously, how is she not drunk yet?- while Tighnari stands in the corner with his ears folded over and eyes squeezed shut. Cyno’s glare is more than enough to scare anyone away as he leads the fox hybrid upstairs toward a quieter spot.

There’s enough alcohol being passed around to knock a Sumpter Beast unconscious. You only have a few drinks, not wanting to be hungover on a weekday. At one point, a familiar voice drifts its way over to you.

“(Name), over here!”

It’s Kaveh, and… Alhaitham next to him is drunk from the looks of it? His face is flushed and he stumbles as he walks with Kaveh being the only thing stopping him from faceplanting onto the floor.

“I thought Alhaitham could handle his alcohol?” you ask as you sling one of his arms around your shoulder and make your way out the tavern.

“He does, but he tried a new type of alcohol tonight that was stronger than he expected. Fire-something… it’s from Snezhnaya, if that explains anything.”

You glance at his heavily flushed face again and sigh.

“Yeah, that explains everything.”

After lugging Alhaitham across Sumeru City and up the many steps leading to the Akademiya, you’re prepared to say goodnight to Kaveh and head back to your dorm when you feel something latch onto your shirt. It’s Alhaitham and even in his drunken stupor, he’s surprisingly strong.

“Wait.”

“What is it?” you ask after a moment of hesitation. His answer is instant.

“Don’t go,” he slurs out.

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. Don’t take anything he says at face value.

But even so, you spot the opportunity to tease him.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because… you’re one of my only friends.”

You go quiet at that. Nothing could have prepared you for that response. Every witty remark and sarcastic jab you had prepared on the tip of your tongue fizzled out instantly. Even Kaveh, who has no shortage of words when it comes to Alhaitham, falls silent.

In the year or so that you’ve known Alhaitham for, he’s never been one to get close with people, instead preferring to keep them at arm’s length. Most likely, it’s the alcohol inhibiting his filter, but you can’t ignore the little flutter in your stomach at his words.

“I guess you are one to me as well, Haitham. I-”

“Say that again.”

His sudden demand makes you pause. Despite his drunken state, there’s a fire in his eyes that briefly makes you question whether he’s sober.

“... I guess you are one-”

He stops you. “No. Not that. Repeat what you said at the very end of it.”

“Haitham?”

“Call me that again.”

“Haitham.”

“Again.”

A smile creeps onto your face now that you’ve finally caught on. How cute.

“Haitham.”

“Again.”

And secretly inside, you’re happy. Happy that someone considers you a friend for the first time. You no longer feel dehumanized from idolization or isolated from everyone else and you realize it’s what you’ve been secretly wishing for this whole time.

“Goodnight, Haitham.”

It’s now a common occurrence between you two to drag each other to activities on the weekends. One day, it’s Alhaitham camping out with you late at night to go stargazing. (“(Name), this is boring.” “You can go home if you want. I won’t stop you.” “Hmph.”) Another day, it’s him inviting you to the various coffee shops throughout the city and sampling their beverages. (“The shop we went to last week does a pour-over better.” “You think so too?”)

Another time, you’re heading back to the Akademiya after a day of shopping and playing Genius Invocation (he lost miserably several times in a row to you, much to his embarrassment). It’s been overcast the whole day and the air has been humid but you nervously brushed off the weather’s warning signs.

Something wet lands on your cheek. You blink and look up, then at the ground where raindrops are rapidly dotting the surface. You meet Alhaitham’s gaze, the rising panic in your eyes apparently visible because he pulls you toward the souvenir shop, where you both seek shelter against the escalating downpour. Sheets of rain crash against the ground and the sides of buildings and the gusts of wind make the trees sway violently.

(You both, like idiots, forgot to bring your umbrellas. In the middle of Sumeru’s rainy season.)

You can barely see past your two feet but you can make out something moving nearby, and it’s getting closer. Small, gray, and most definitely sopping wet, it’s… a cat?

The small creature pauses and runs as fast as it can toward you. You take your hat off and scoop it up, where it meows pitifully and sneezes. A quick check tells you that the cat is a girl.

“(Name), what-”

“Look, Haitham,” you whisper as you shrug your jacket off and dry the cat. “Poor baby must have gotten stranded and lost in the rain. She came running to us for help.”

The cat shakes off the last of the rain clinging to her fur and now you can see that she resembles Alhaitham quite a bit with her gray fur and green eyes. You wonder if she has his attitude as well…

“I wonder if she’s someone’s pet cat that ran away.”

“She’s probably one of the city’s many strays. I don’t see a collar on her.”

“She’s well-fed for one…” you grumble, noting her plump belly. “So, can we keep her?”

“(Name), you know animals, unless they’re service animals, are not allowed in Akademiya dorms.”

“That hasn’t stopped people though. Someone on my floor snuck their pet cat into the dorms and it’s an open secret among all of us.”

“But still-”

And then you hit him with puppy eyes. The edges of your mouth quiver and turn down, while your eyes soften and go wide.

“Please?”

His resolve crumbles instantly.

“Fine. But you’re keeping it.”

You sheepishly smile. “About that…”

What now?

“My roommate is a blabbermouth and a stickler for the rules. If I kept her, she would be gone and back on the streets before noon tomorrow.”

“Are you suggesting that I take care of her?”

“Are you against it?”

“Taking care of an animal is a big responsibility, (Name). One that requires time and-”

“I can help you take care of her. With the two of us looking after her, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being optimistic or oversimplifying the problem here.”

You roll your eyes and Alhaitham looks off to the side.

“I’ll have to ask Kaveh-”

“Kaveh would be over the moon at the prospect of you bringing home a cat. You know how much he loves animals. This cat will be in good hands under his and our care.”

Looks like he now has no other choice but to say yes. He heaves a deep sigh and looks back up at you.

“Fine. I’ll keep her in my room.”

Your face lights up.

“But first, we need to give her a name.”

You scrunch your brows and think for a moment.

“How about Thamina?”

“Thamina,” he repeats. “Meaning valuable or priceless. It fits well.”

You become a frequent visitor to Kaveh and Alhaitham’s dorm after that. It gets to the point where Alhaitham gives you his copy of the spare key so you could come and go as you please (to which Kaveh gives him a knowing look that he pointedly ignores for his own sake). At first, you primarily visited to take care of Thamina, but at some point, you began visiting primarily for him.

Study sessions slowly move from the House of Daena to his room, with him at his desk and you sitting on his bed. Thamina bears witness to the heated debates shared between you two in the late hours of the night and the quiet moments of studying. Alhaitham is there to keep her company throughout the day, but she patiently waits for you after a long day of classes. She watches as you two steal each other’s belongings and food (occasionally joining in if she smelled fish in the box you brought home from a late-night dinner). When there is a disagreement between you two, she’s there to help you reconcile in the form of demanding affection and cuddles.

But when she and Kaveh are fast asleep, only you two are privy to the heavy conversations that happen once and are never brought up again.

“Tell me more about your family, Haitham.”

He freezes, then casts a suspicious glance at you over his shoulder.

“Where is this question coming from? And why?”

You shrug.

“I just wanted to know more about the people that raised you to become the person you are today.”

“... My grandmother raised me,” he says after a moment of hesitation. “I admittedly don’t know much about my parents- only that my mother was a renowned Vahumana scholar and my father was a mentor in Haravatat. They both died in an accident, thus leaving me under my grandmother’s care.”

You make yourself comfortable on his bed and nod, urging him to continue.

“My grandmother was a Kshahrewar scholar. By the time I was born, she had already retired. As such, she had a lot of free time. We did a lot of things together.”

He pauses to recount his fading memories of her.

“She liked to bake. Her desserts were on the sweeter side, but I have the recipes. I can tweak them so they’re less sweet for you.”

“I’d like that very much.”

“She liked to cook as well. I’d often wake up to the smell of food in the kitchen and she’d be there at the stove. She’d make my favorites and always save most of it or the best parts for me. Unlike with baking, she never used any recipes for her cooking. I’ve tried to imitate her dishes, but it’s never exactly the same as I remember.”

Haitham’s bed is comfy, you note. You pull the covers over yourself, feeling your eyelids grow heavier.

“Were you a chubby child who was spoiled by grandma?” you tease.

“Yes,” he admits.

You giggle. “I wish I could have seen you as a kid, chubby cheeks and all.”

There are baby photos his grandma kept that he now has, but he’ll never tell you that.

“Like you, she was more of a tea person than a coffee person. She liked hers sweetened while I liked mine more plain. She never knew where she left her reading glasses and she’d always ask me to find them. When I was younger, she’d read a bedtime story to me every night. If there was nothing we were doing, I’d spend the whole day on her lap as she read the books of my choosing aloud to me. One of the last things she told me was that I was so similar to my father, both in nature and appearance. And more than anything else, she was kind.”

“You miss her, don’t you?”

“Yes. I miss her a lot.”

“Your grandma sounds like an amazing person,” you sleepily mumble. “I would have liked to meet her.”

The last thing you hear before finally drifting off is Alhaitham’s whispered response.

“She would have liked to meet you too.”

And the next night, the conversation is equally as heavy.

“Hey, Haitham.”

“What is it?” he whispers back.

“Do you think that.. I don’t know, that I’m not quite who I used to be?”

Alhaitham sets his pen down.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Do you think I’ve changed in more ways than one?”

“Well, you’re less annoying now.”

You give him a well-deserved jab on the bicep with the end of your pen. Much to your annoyance, he doesn’t even flinch and continues.

“The way I see it, change is inevitable. We all fight and run from it, but it eventually catches up with us. It is neither good nor bad. Rather, it’s what you make of it. But to answer your question, yes. You’ve matured more mentally. You’ve realized there’s more to life now. You’re learning how to live life on your own terms now, aren’t you?’

Your silence tells him everything he needs to know.

“Tell me, Haitham. What do you wish for?”

Alhaitham is a simple man with few desires. If all his basic needs and simple wants of books and time to himself are met, then he is content. But your question has him thinking. Is there anything else he wants in his life?

And it turns out the answer is yes.

“Regardless of how things turn out in the future, I’d like to be able to continue talking to you like this. That’s my wish.”

Kaveh stirs in his sleep. Thamina rolls over and makes biscuits on your lap. A small smile creeps onto your face. You turn away and resume your work. He does the same.

It’s a mundane scene- two Akademiya students pulling another all-nighter to complete their work. And yet…

Yes, this is what I want, Alhaitham thinks to himself. Everything I could ever want means nothing if you aren’t here.

The spring semester comes around and with that comes the finals grind. You’ve thrown yourself into your studies in a last-minute attempt to save, in your opinion, your failing grades since you aren’t at the top of your class anymore. (Alhaitham thinks you’re insane- you’re still in the top five.) As if to rub it in your face, you get a letter from your family one day.

We heard that you’re no longer at the top of your class. What happened?

Your eyes and mind glazed over the rest of the letter until the end.

Study harder. You can end it the same way you did last year if you would spend more time on it. Don’t get distracted now.

A rare instance of frustration flashes through you and before you know it, you’ve ripped up the letter and tossed it in the trash.

Who told them that anyway?

“Lisa… graduated early?”

The news comes to you over dinner one day when you ask where Lisa is upon realizing she’s not there. You’ve just finished all your finals and you want nothing more than to relax and catch up on some sleep, but news regarding your best friend makes you temporarily forget about those plans.

Cyno nods. “It’s a whole thing now. They’re saying she’s the best student the Akademiya has had in the past 200 years. Once in a generation is what they’re calling her now.”

You bite your lip and look away. A weak “tell her I said congratulations” is all you can get out as envy begins festering deep within you. You’re ashamed of yourself- she’s your best friend, for Archon’s sake, you should be feeling excited for her- but you just can’t.

Why couldn’t it have been me instead?

You end your second year third in the class, with Alhaitham at the top.

“Welcome home, (Name).”

The house is a little chilly when you step inside. Dinner has already been prepared- it’s sitting on the table- but it looks like it was made some time ago. Your father ushers you into the kitchen, where your mother waits expectantly, her lips stretched into a thin smile when she sees you.

There are the usual dinnertime conversations- how has your day been? Fine, yours? Same old, same old- but they feel stiffer than usual. It doesn’t flow and you find yourself internally wincing at the heavy silence between you.

“So.”

You pause and look up at your mother, who has finally broken the awkward silence surrounding the kitchen table.

“We heard you… didn’t do so well at the Akademiya this year.”

You freeze and internally brace yourself for what is to come.

“Only third this year? (Name), you were first last year, how come you couldn’t place first again? That’s not so hard, is it? You just have to put some effort in, stop being so lazy, and you’ll do fine! Besides, it’s only your second year, what could be so difficult about it? We know you’re smart and that you could’ve easily been first again. You’re just getting complacent, that’s all! Do you really want that Alhaitham to beat you at your own game? How humiliating would that be for us? Think of the embarrassment we, your poor mother and father, would face from others in the Akademiya- our golden child (Name), who was once someone people aspired to be, but now nothing but a disappointment!”

“Your mother’s right, (Name),” says your father. “We have high expectations for you, or should I say, had.”

Their disappointment cuts deep into your soul, yet something quietly snaps inside you. You glare at them one more time before slipping away.

“I’m not hungry anymore. I’ve lost my appetite.”

You go to your childhood room and lock the door behind you. Your parents’ voices- most definitely talking about you- drift up the stairs and you do your best to tune them out. As if to mock you, hanging on the wall across from you are all the awards you won at academic competitions throughout your life. Trophies, ribbons, certificates, and medals line every bit of space available, all of them with your name and a first-place title proudly engraved onto them.

Now that you think about it, were you really happy with being the best? Your younger self would laugh and say “of course!”, but why exactly?

And then the realization hits you. You personally felt nothing being the best at everything. The title, the fake smiles, and the forced compliments from others- they couldn’t mean less to you.

You were only happy because your parents were happy. Were you ever happy with yourself- with who you were as a person? You don’t know.

Stars live for an incredibly long time, but they too must die out one day. Their reserves of hydrogen gas will inevitably run out and they will either go out with a bang or a fizzle depending on their size. Larger stars go out in a blaze of glory, expanding up to several times their size before exploding and bathing the universe in the remains of their supernova for eons to come, while smaller ones condense from the gravity pushing inward and shrink down into a cold white dwarf, destined to drift across the universe alone for the rest of time. That is your fate, yet you do not know it yet. The last of your fuel has finally been spent, and the end is nigh. Whether you will go out with a bang or fade into obscurity is something only time will tell.

You’ve had enough of the stifling atmosphere in the house.

It’s only been a few days since summer vacation began and you’re already at your wit’s end. The heavy silence hanging in the air and their passive-aggressive comments toward you make you want to tear your hair out. Or run away. Maybe both.

There are still lots of days left before you start class again. Surely there’s something you can do until then…

And then it hits you: traveling throughout Sumeru! You were born and raised in the city, but you’ve rarely ventured outside of its borders. This could be a good chance to expand your horizons and gain experience!

So without further ado, you pack your bags, plan a route, and begin your adventures. Most of the time, you’d leave at dawn before your parents woke up and return late at night after they’d fallen asleep. Sometimes, you wouldn’t return for days, instead choosing to camp outside or stay at a friend’s house for a while. From what you’ve heard through your neighbors and friends, your parents don’t seem to care what you’re doing either. Some of your friends even say that they look happier now that you’re out of the house. The notion stings, but you don’t dwell on it for too long.

There’s a strange sense of peace you feel throughout your travels that’s foreign to you. Whether it’s camping out underneath the stars or scaling a rocky cliffside, you’ve never felt more attuned to yourself than now. You gradually discover more about yourself that you otherwise would have never known. You like stargazing even more after seeing the expanse of the night sky and all its stars for the first time without the light pollution of the city. You like to swim, as demonstrated when you dove headfirst into a river for the first time and felt the cool waters wash over your skin. You’re decently skilled with a bow and arrow after Tighnari gives you some lessons and his old bow to keep yourself safe on your travels.

Most importantly, you discover how to find happiness by yourself. After being told your whole life what you could and couldn’t do, being able to take control of your life was a liberating feeling.

You end up seeing Alhaitham quite a bit during this time. Strangely enough, he was always one of the first people you’d see returning back to Sumeru City. He’d always give you a subtle nod when he noticed you staring at him before leaving. Sometimes, he’d even be there to wish you a safe trip- no, not sometimes- almost all of the time. It’s basically a given that he’ll be there to see you off at this point. How he hears about it every time, you have no idea but you aren’t complaining.

“Leaving early as always, I see. Where to this time, (Name)?”

You pause from checking your supplies to see Alhaitham standing behind you.

“I’m heading down to Gandharva Ville to spend some time in the rainforest. But you’re up this early just to wish me a safe trip? I didn’t take you for a morning person.”

“I’m not. But someone should see you off each time, and if your parents won’t do it, then I will.”

“Y-You… how did you know?”

“Know what?” he asks while stepping around to help you with your bag. “All I know is that I’ve never seen them send you off or welcome you back.”

“So be it then,” you grumble. “It’s not as if I care.”

So he doesn’t know about our strained relationship yet, you muse to yourself. That’s surprising, considering how big mother and father’s social circle is…

“You’re all set now. Best you head off before it gets too hot.”

“I will. You take care as well.”

He watches you leave through the city gates until you’re no longer in sight. A rare expression of longing crosses his face then and only after lingering for a few more moments (with his eyes trained on where you once were) does he leave.

He was lying when he pretended to be unaware of your family situation. When you’re hailed as one of the best scholars in recent times in a land that has a borderline fanatical dedication to academics, everything pertaining to you will be scrutinized and monitored. Your sudden decision to leave Sumeru for extended periods of time, and the way your parents refused to talk about you or changed the topic whenever you came up… it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

For your sake, Alhaitham hopes you would return later rather than sooner so you wouldn’t have to hear what was being said about you.

“You seem to have gotten good at this,” he remarks over coffee and desserts when you return several weeks later. Alhaitham notices you’ve put on some muscle. There are some new scars and the bow slung on your back is an unfamiliar sight as well. “You would be a perfect candidate for the Adventurer’s Guild.”

You laugh. “Nah, it’s not for me. As much as I enjoy traveling, I don’t think I could earn my living through it, plus I won’t be able to keep it up once I’m all old and wrinkly.”

“Tell me about your adventures though. Where did you go?”

Your eyes light up and you begin rambling excitedly about your travels. You go into great detail about your time spent in the Avidya Forest and your spontaneous decision to travel to Liyue, which catches him off-guard.

“Liyue?” he repeats when you mention it. “So that’s why you were gone for several weeks instead of days. I’ve never been there before. Tell me, what was it like?”

Your smile grows even bigger and your eyes may as well have been stars from how brightly they were shining.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the architecture- actually, wait, I should be telling Kaveh this- but it was so pretty! The food was super good too and a friend I made shared some of her recipes with me. I have a feeling that you’ll like them so I can teach you some other time! Ooh, and you can’t miss the scenery for the world! Personally, my favorite was…”

You’re so caught up in reliving and telling your adventures that you fail to miss the fond look in his eyes and the rare hint of a smile that stretches across his face.

You’re halfway through recounting your way back home through the Chasm when you happen to glance at the clock and the realization begins to set in.

“I have to get going now,” you explain as you hurriedly gather your belongings. “I’m meeting up with some other friends in a bit. But thanks for the coffee and sweets. Hopefully, I’ll see you around again sometime soon?”

The chime above the door jingles as you rush outside and Alhaitham is left alone with his thoughts. With a deep sigh, he takes a look out the window and decides to address the thoughts about you that have been on his mind lately.

You’re annoying, there’s no doubt about that. You love to push his buttons and purposefully irritate him. You’re an overachiever and you care too much about what other people think. For the longest time, your whole personality consisted of your academic accomplishments and nothing else. You’re a people pleaser and you long for acceptance and praise from others- two things he thinks are utterly useless coming from other people. The moment someone questions your abilities, regardless of who it is, you begin to second-guess yourself and waver. Ridiculous, in his opinion. You know your worth and skills better than anyone else, so why are you letting their baseless accusations affect you? You’re easily affected by rumors and your self-worth is determined by what others think of you.

But you have a warm and welcoming demeanor that’s rare in the cutthroat halls of the Akademiya that draws others to you like a moth to a flame. You enjoy traveling and you have a major soft spot for animals, especially cats. Whenever you’re in the city, you always stop to pet all the strays roaming around, no matter how long it takes. You enjoy sweets- not the overly cloying kind, but the ones that have a touch of sweetness to the point where you can just taste it. Your favorite dessert is the Padisarah Pudding sold in the Grand Bazaar and he’s stopped by so often that the vendor knows his name, face, and order by now. You’re more of a tea person than a coffee person, but he has your coffee order memorized just in case (iced, with two sugars, a splash of milk, and rosewater) and he’s the one that has been mysteriously supplying your favorite tea whenever it’s running low. He notices you like to ramble about things you’re passionate about (and he willingly- gladly- listens too).

And he’s come to realize that maybe you’re not as insufferable as he thought you were. You have a brilliant mind and you’re one of the few that isn’t put off by his blunt nature. You don’t just tolerate him- you appreciate him, flaws and everything.

You’ve always been envious of him- he’s known that ever since he met you. Because of him, you have strived to prove yourself as better in all aspects. A stupid rivalry is what it started off as with your pride getting the best of both of you. But throughout these three years, you’ve only brought out the best in each other.

At this point, he doesn’t feel complete without you.

He’s well aware of the question hanging over people’s minds whenever they see the both of you together. You are the sun, the golden child of your parents who are renowned within the Akademiya and held to the highest level of scrutiny. Their judging gazes, eyes that fixate on every move of yours, comments whispered behind your back- you take them all in stride. Meanwhile, Alhaitham’s presence is glossed over when you’re there. To many, he is just another Akademiya student that they will see in passing and forget about immediately. In that aspect, he is the moon that hides from others. Those who were acquainted with his parents or his late grandmother may recognize him and speak with him, but he mostly goes unnoticed and ignored.

But free from the prying eyes of others, Alhaitham is able to sleep peacefully at night. Your fitful sleep, on the other hand, is plagued with dreams of what-ifs and the looming fear of disappointment from others. You’ve always succeeded, not because you craved success, but because you feared failure and how others would react.

The rising moon admires the sun because of the boundless love they receive from others. On the other hand, the setting sun is envious of the moon for his sweetest dreams that they can only long for.

You enter your third year with a sense of apprehension that wasn’t there before. Your high hopes for yourself are still there, but they’ve been dashed considerably. But despite your lack of ambition now and your experiences from last year, you still (attempt to) throw yourself into your studies, knowing that this year is where the challenge begins. Your first two years were just warmups, or nothing, according to your parents.

Your first few weeks go well, but before you know it, you find yourself lost and overwhelmed by the material.

I… don’t understand any of this. But how could this be? I’ve spent so much time.

Your test scores don’t reflect your efforts either.

45%. 50%. 63% 67%. 55%. 38%.

“Damn it!”

You slam your fist onto your desk table as the results of another failed test greet you. You had spent so much time preparing for this one, only for your efforts to be rewarded with a slap to the face.

You can’t keep going like this. You need help, and desperately at that, but you can’t bring yourself to ask for it.

You’re smarter than everyone else, you don’t need help, a familiar voice comes into your mind. You’re the pride and joy of our family because of your grades. Don’t let us down now.

You look out the window, the heat still simmering in your stomach.

“What a load of bullshit.”

“... I saw your test scores earlier today.”

You glare at Alhaitham with poison in your gaze that was never there until now. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he feels strangely uneasy, like his body is warning him to stop.

“And? Here to mock me for it?”

“No. On the contrary, I want to offer you my help.”

Oh, the humiliation. Look at how far you’ve fallen.

“Forget it,” you snap. “I don’t need your help.”

You get up and leave, slamming the doors shut behind you. It echoes through the House of Daena and the other students there turn to stare at Alhaitham in silent shock. He’s stunned too. Although you can have quite the sharp tongue at times, you’ve never lashed out at him like that before.

A few weeks later, the results of another test are announced. Alhaitham’s name sits at the top like it always has. His name is on everyone’s tongue as they jealously grumble over the results once again. His eyes examine the list, searching for one name in particular, until he finds yours at the bottom of it.

He pauses, then turns around in time to see you storming out. He doesn’t miss the looks your classmates give you- mocking, ridiculing, scornful, and disgusted sneers that relish in your downfall. The jealous grumbles about him now turn into titters and sneering whispers with your name now being trampled upon by those that used to extol your virtues. It’s all noise and it grates his ears until he can’t stand it anymore.

“What a waste of time.”

The noise stops and everyone turns to look at him.

“You all have the energy to complain about your own scores while making a laughing stock of someone else. It’d be better spent on improving your own scores- unless you’re just that incompetent?”

Later that night as you’re studying, you get a message from your parents through your Akasha. It’s the first time you’ve gotten anything from them all year. After hesitating, you open the message.

It’s short and simple but your heart sinks and your temper flares after reading it. You rip your Akasha Terminal off and toss it to the side.

Don’t come home this year.

“I need your help. I’m asking for a friend.”

Alhaitham looks over his book at you. It’s the first time he’s seen you all week and to be frank, you look awful. Your hair is a mess, your uniform is wrinkled, and your skin looks dry and dull.

“Do I know them? If not, then I won’t help.”

You roll your eyes and throw your hands up exasperatedly. “Ok fine, yes, you know them.”

“Well, why won’t they just ask me themselves? Why trouble you?”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter right now. Just answer the damn question.”

He leans back and knowingly looks at you.

“They’re going through a tough time right now,” you explain, choosing each of your words carefully. “They aren’t doing good in their classes and they’re trying to get back on track, but they don’t know how to.”

“... This is for you, isn’t it?”

Damn, he saw right through you. Were you that obvious?

Alhaitham goes back to reading his book. “I can’t say I would be of any use here. After all, I’ve never been in that position nor would I let myself get there.”

You feel your temper flare once more. You clench your jaw and try to reign in your anger before speaking to him.

“Well, duh. You’re also not helping either.”

“Really? I think it’s a perfectly reasonable answer.”

“Put yourself in my shoes for once, would you?”

He sets his book down and looks at you.

“You asked me for my advice and I told you what I would do in that situation. I don’t understand why you’re getting upset.”

“That’s because it’s not the answer I’m looking for!”

“That’s on you for expecting others to somehow know what you want without telling them.”

“You-!”

You groan and run your hands through your hair. Is it just you or is he being more insufferable today? Can’t he read the room for once?

He continues. “If you wanted someone to only tell you what you wanted to hear, a mirror would be a better audience.”

“Alhaitham, all I’m asking from you is a little empathy. Is that so hard to have?”

“And is it so hard for you to stop throwing a hissy fit just because I didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear?”

His words are all spite and knives meant to hurt. They lack the usual lighthearted tone he has with you. You feel it coming- the barbed words that are poised to strike and cut deep, but it doesn’t help when he begins speaking again.

“You asked for my help and I gave you advice. You’re not in a position to be complaining here.”

“Yeah, well, your ‘advice’ isn’t what most people would consider as help.”

He scoffs and looks away before looking at you once more- like he’s looking down on you, you realize. There’s something akin to disgust and impatience in his gaze that makes you freeze despite all your sharp words earlier.

“How irrational could you be? You reject everyone’s help even though you need it and you don’t listen to anybody’s suggestions. You’re too caught up in the conception that you’re always right and everyone else is always wrong. You’re childish, (Name), that’s what you are. You’re like a child still naive and ignorant, content with playing with their toys and games and ignoring reality. You’re not cut out for the Akademiya. You never were.”

He laughs and now you realize just how much it hurts when it’s directed toward you.

“And you’re telling me that my ego is overinflated. No wonder you’re failing everything. Archons, (Name), you’re utterly hopeless. What did I ever see in you?”

The silence that fills the space afterward is enough to make Alhaitham immediately regret his words. You angrily glare at him and Alhaitham’s heart sinks when he recognizes the emotion present in your eyes.

Utter hate.

“... For all these years, I've heard so many rumors about you but chose to brush them off,” you begin. “I was so stupid! I should have listened to them! They say you’re cold and heartless and only now do I realize that they were right. They say you’re not human from how cruel you are- archons, dammit! Look at me!”

The sudden demand makes Alhaitham nervously glance toward you after avoiding your gaze this entire time. You sniff and wipe away the few tears that managed to spill over. Losing your composure in front of him, the perfect and poised genius, was already humiliating enough, but you hold his gaze long enough to let him see. Let him witness the results of his own actions and the prospect of losing someone he cared about (all over again).

“You’re an absolutely horrible person, Alhaitham. I hope you remember this.”

Alhaitham. It’s the first time you’ve used his full name ever since you befriended him and the implications of it sting.

He reaches out toward you. “Wait-”

You slap his hand away.

“No, we’re done here. I thought you could at least understand, but you’re just as uncaring and self-centered as everyone else here. And I once thought that you were better than anyone else here, but only now do I realize how stupid I was."

You laugh sardonically one last time.

“My parents were right. They would have been so much happier if you were their child.”

Alhaitham doesn’t see you again for several weeks after that. It’s as if you’re purposefully avoiding him and it gets to a point where he’s beginning to get concerned about your health and safety.

Currently, he’s meeting with Tighnari. Out of everyone, the fox hybrid had the highest chance of knowing with his keen sense of hearing.

“I’m concerned about (Name).”

Tighnari’s ears twitch in response.

“They aren’t the same person anymore. You’ve seen it too.”

The fox hybrid sadly nods. “They’ve been consumed by rage and self-hate. I see it in their eyes and the way they lash out. They’re angry at themselves and at everyone around them and it’s completely understandable considering the situation and the response of those they trusted most. Still, it’s not healthy if they continue like this. Speaking of which, were they always this temperamental?”

Alhaitham shakes his head. “No. To be clear, they’ve always had a sharp tongue but it was always lighthearted. They only started getting truly angry this year.”

“Lashing out or displaying signs of anger is often a common symptom of burnout. I’m fairly confident that’s what (Name) has. Specifically, academic burnout. But I’m sure you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Alhaitham uncomfortably avoids Tighnari’s prying eyes.

Tighnari’s eyes narrow. “Look, (Name) is a great friend to me as well, but why are you telling me about this? You’re in their Darshan so shouldn’t you know more?”

“I haven’t heard anything about them either. I got concerned after they didn’t show up at the library for a week. From what I’ve heard, they haven’t been showing up to class either for the past few weeks, which is strange for them. I’m asking around- maybe I’ll find something out that way.”

Tighnari shakes his head. “Sadly, I don’t know why either. If it helps, some people have said they haven’t even seen them. Not just at the library or at class but in general. It’s almost as if they’ve just… disappeared.”

There’s a moment of silence that passes between them. Tighnari stares at Alhaitham curiously and he rests his chin on his hands.

Alhaitham doesn’t have a good feeling about this…

“Speaking of which, does the fight from earlier have anything to do with this?”

“You knew?”

“Please. When two of my closest friends get into an argument as big as that, I’m bound to find out eventually. So, did it have anything to do with this?”

“... Yes,” he admits. “I feel guilty and I want to apologize to them.”

“Well, better late than never,” grumbles Tighnari under his breath. The stink eye he sends his way doesn’t go unnoticed by Alhaitham.

“Why do you care for them so much?”

The question comes out of nowhere and leaves him reeling.

“I suppose it’s… because I consider them a friend?”

Archons, that answer sounds even more pathetic out loud than it did in his head and Tighnari knows it.

Tighnari heaves a long sigh that makes Alhaitham pause.

“You absolute lummox!” he snaps. “I always knew you were somewhat emotionally constipated but I didn’t think you’d be this dense…”

He suddenly stands up and stares the ashen-haired male in the eye, his tone softer this time.

“You’re in love with them, Alhaitham. That’s what you’ve been feeling lately.”

Alhaitham immediately scoffs. “No, that can’t possibly be-”

“You, who hates sharing what you consider yours, share your notes with them.”

“It’s a win-win situation for both of us. We’re in the same Darshan and we’ll be able to learn better from each other.”

“But them, specifically, when there are countless others that would kill for the chance to learn from you?”

“They can figure the material out themselves. Plus, I stand to gain no benefit from what they have to offer.”

“What, so only (Name) can keep up with you?”

“Precisely.”

Tighnari sees the opening Alhaitham has created and takes advantage of it.

“Are you sure that you’re still rivals? Even though (Name) is…”

“Of course. It’s been like that since day one.”

“Huh, that’s interesting. Because from what I know, academic rivals don’t go out to lunch together. They don’t go stargazing even though a certain someone finds it mind-numbingly boring. They don’t sneak out past curfew and break Akademiya rules on a daily basis, and they certainly don’t spend hefty chunks of Mora to make the other happy.”

Tighnari has Alhaitham backed into a corner and he knows it.

“Kaveh knows as well.”

“And?”

“And you still let yourself get roped into his schemes to make them happy. Look, I know this isn’t a good time to bring him up considering…”

He gestures at the empty space, a silent indication of Kaveh and Alhaitham’s broken friendship.

“But there’s no denying that Kaveh did and still does care about you. Why else would he be willing to put in so much time and effort to make them happy? Because in addition to being their friend, he knows that when they’re happy, you are as well. And if that doesn’t mean something, then, I don’t know what else does.”

“We’re just friends,” he argues once again. Tighnari glares at him.

“You’re an idiot to think it doesn’t go deeper than that. You also saw them off every single time during the summer.”

“That’s what friends do. Besides, their parents should have-”

“Uh-huh. Go on, keep lying to yourself like that. Do I have to hit you over the head with a brick in order for you to realize your own feelings? You’re sounding like a broken record here.”

“I-”

“There’s no use in denying or lying to us, Alhaitham. We’re your friends, after all. But the one who’s going to have to decide what to do next is you.”

He gets up and gives Alhaitham a pat on the shoulder. Before leaving, he looks at him one last time.

“It’s going to hurt even more when you lose them for good. You’ll only wish you could have done something sooner. But I think you already know that by now, right, Alhaitham?”

“Do you know where (Name) is?”

It’s a rare occasion today- Alhaitham actually showed up for class. But it wasn’t to listen to whatever the professor had to say- no, it was to ask your classmates where you went. He’s been trying every day to find you, but only to no avail.

He’s gained some valuable information, however. Your roommate moved out a while ago, leaving you the sole occupant of your dorm room. He also managed to find your dorm room number after asking some of your “friends”, who after relentless prying, reluctantly opened up.

“I can’t say for sure, but I heard they’re in the hospital. They somehow ended up there over the weekend.”

“The hospital?” he repeats. “Do you know why?”

“No idea. Sorry.”

He shows up at the Birmarstan after the class ends, fully expecting to see you. He gives the nurse his name and a few minutes later, she returns with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, but the patient is not accepting visitors at this time.”

A slight pause. Barely perceptible.

“I see.”

You look at the window to see Alhaitham’s retreating form. The nurse enters your room a few minutes later and crosses her arms.

“He’s the first person who’s asked to visit you ever since you came in. I’m surprised- I thought you’d get more. Most people usually do.”

You pull the covers over your head and roll over. Such is the way of life in the Akademiya. Friendships were formed out of convenience as a way to climb up the ladder later in life. As soon as you were no longer useful or fell from grace like you did, others were quick to abandon you without a second thought.

So why did Alhaitham visit then? To you, your relationship (as enemies? Friends? Or even…) was built solely on how you could assist each other, and nothing more. By your prior logic, there is no logical reason why he should visit you.

Unless…

“Is there any reason why you didn’t want to see him in particular?”

Even if your hypothesis proved to be true, it doesn’t excuse or undo the hurt he caused.

“He’s the last person I want to see right now.”

A few days after being discharged from Birmarstan, there’s a knock from the door that wakes you up from your sleep. Still disoriented, you look up and roll over, opting to ignore it and go back to sleep.

The knocking continues. You cover your ear with a pillow and squeeze your eyes shut even more.

“I know you’re there, (Name). Several people told me so.”

Shit, it’s the last person you want to see right now. Your mood sours instantly and now you’re fully awake.

“What do you want?” you snap.

“I just want to talk.”

It doesn’t seem like he’ll be going away anytime soon, so you get up, kicking the trash that litters the floor to the side, and carefully cracking open the door. He looks down to see you. You pull the sleeves of your shirt down as he does so.

“Can I come in?”

You look behind at the mess that is your dorm.

“... It’s not exactly clean right now.”

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

You flick the lights on and hide the worst of the trash underneath your bed. He follows you, his gaze traveling around the room. He notices the side with the unoccupied bed is considerably cleaner (that must have been your roommate’s before they moved out, he reasons) and your desk looks like it hasn’t been used in a while. He takes a seat at it and examines the table. Your Akasha Terminal is lying in the corner and collecting dust. Your textbook is open to a section that was taught a while ago and it looks like you just started taking notes.

(Although, the frustrated scribbles that occupy most of the page have him concerned. Additionally, certain parts of the paper are wrinkled, as if they have dried after getting wet. The shape and spot where they are concentrated in is another cause for concern as well. Were you… crying?)

You pull the covers over your form and glare at him.

“Well? What did you want to tell me?”

“I’m sorry.”

You pause, then shake your head.

“That alone won’t be enough.”

“I know. And that’s why-”

He gulps, his voice shaking toward the end. It’s just a simple apology, so why is he so nervous?

(But deep down he knows the real answer: this is his last chance to ask you for forgiveness before losing you for good. And it was the thought of losing you, the one that had managed to worm their way into his heart and appreciate him that scared him the most.)

“I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have said those things back then. I should have been more understanding of your struggles and, like you said, had some more empathy. I realize that I am far from an ideal friend in many people’s eyes and if you feel the same, I will not hold that against you.”

His chest tightens and he subconsciously looks away.

“I’m aware of how people see me- valuing logic above all with a mind fueled by equations and facts over feelings. A genius with no regard or need for others. But I’m still human. I feel regret and remorse the same way as anyone else. I know when I’ve messed up and when I need to apologize. Now is one of those times, more than ever.”

You turn around and open the blinds, letting the light flood the room before sitting back down, watching him carefully.

“I don’t want to forgive you. Do you have any idea how long your words lingered for?”

The words sting Alhaitham. Your voice shakes and you feel the familiar burning sensation in your eyes.

“But I know you. I know your bluntness and sharp tongue. You often say hurtful things but don’t mean them. You’re stubborn and slow when it comes to apologizing, even if the guilt eats away at you. You don’t wear your heart on your sleeve and you’re not one to dish out praises, leading others to believe that you’re cold and unsympathetic.”

You suddenly lean in, staring into the eyes that had kept you awake at night for so long. His eyes widen slightly and you smile faintly to yourself.

“But I like to think that I’ve gotten to know you a bit. You show that you care with your actions, not your words, but that takes time- time that most people aren’t willing to give because of their first impression of you. You take the time to learn about the people you care about and prefer acts of service to words of affirmation and physical touch as your love language. You show that you care in a way of your own.

“So yes. I forgive you.”

Alhaitham finds himself sighing with relief. Yet a question still lingers in the back of his mind.

“Why?”

And there it is again, for the first time in a long time. Your smile. It’s a little stiff and awkward, as if you haven’t smiled in a long time, but it’s undoubtedly yours.

“The same reason. I missed you too.”

And now begins the uncomfortable process of recovery.

“How long were you gone for?”

“... Longer than I’d like to admit. Catching up is going to be a difficult task, isn’t it?”

“I won’t sugarcoat it; you’ve missed a lot.” Alhaitham flips through your books and notes from prior years. “However, you have a strong foundation from your earlier years. That should help you. But first, let me ask you a few questions so I can outline a study plan for you.”

You raise your eyebrows at his statement.

“You’re taking this quite seriously, aren’t you?”

“Naturally,” he replies. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Knowing you, you’re not the kind of person to go out of your way for others,” you grumble. “So going to such lengths just for me…”

“You discredit me if you think that I would do that. But why do you think you felt burnt-out in the first place?”

You look out the window and think for a bit.

“... I think it’s because of my own pride. Had I asked for help earlier on, I have a feeling I wouldn’t be in this position, or things would be better, at least,” you admit.

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

You sigh and hold your hands out in defeat. “You surely know more than you’re letting on. But I think it’s also because I never learned how to study.”

Alhaitham pauses at that. “Really?”

There’s no mockery or derision in his question- just curiosity.

“People goaded me on as a gifted child and I was expected to somehow know how to do everything perfectly the first time, you know? It’s just how things were.”

“Well, that’s something we can fix for sure.”

Your first few days back are the worst. Whispers and stares follow you wherever you go and your professors, who once showered you with praises, look at you strangely or even ignore you.

“Don’t mind them,” he says when he notices you sulking in the library later that day. “You and I both know that’s just the way the Akademiya is. We’ll see who gets the last laugh.”

Much to the envy of your classmates, he also personally tutors you in all your classes. He accompanies you to all your classes (even the ones he isn’t taking) and sits in on them, whispering and writing little notes of clarification and elaboration.

Bit by bit, you see your scores slowly improve. Alhaitham teaches you an array of study techniques, many of which have been personally vetted by him.

“Try each of them out,” he says. “Different techniques work for different people. There is something out there that works for you.”

He’s able to bear witness to the fruits of your labor one day when he hears your excited footsteps running toward him.

“Haitham, look!”

You practically shove several papers into his face. “I got a perfect score on the latest exam! And guess what? I tied with you, meaning that I also placed first!”

A rare smile, solely reserved for your eyes, creeps onto his face.

“Good job. Your score is well-deserved after all the hard work you’ve been putting in.”

He sees it now. Slowly but surely, you’re regaining bits and pieces of your old self. You’ll never be exactly who you once were, but that’s ok. You’ll pick the broken yet salvageable parts up and put them together to create something new yet still distinctly you.

He only looks forward to seeing what you’ll become in the future.

You’ve finally graduated.

It’s a joyous occasion today, filled with speeches, hugs, and promises to keep in touch. Families and friends crowd outside the Akademiya to congratulate their loved ones. The diploma in your hands and the cords around your shoulders are a sign of your achievements and your persistence despite all the roadblocks you faced along the way.

Your heart feels simultaneously burdened and relieved. You had graduated squarely in the middle of the class. You knew it was something to be proud of, yet that part of your former self that you could never suppress couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

Not that it really bothered you anyway. When you walked across the stage to the smattering of applause accompanying your name, you had immediately locked eyes with Alhaitham in the crowd. He was clapping, but what caught your attention the most was the smile he sent your way. It wasn’t one of his once in a blue moon microscopic ones.

No. It was one where you could see a sliver of his teeth and where the edges of his eyes crinkled from it, the sight of which sent your heart ablaze. There was pride in his gaze and in that moment, you felt as if everything had been worth it- even if it wasn’t the outcome you expected.

And when he walked across the stage, you were the one to clap for him the loudest.

You push your way through the heavy crowds, searching for one person in particular. He’s not anywhere in the crowd, so you head down the walkway and there you see him. He’s waiting for you with a large bouquet of flowers in his arms.

“Took you long enough,” he remarks. Alhaitham holds out the flowers to you and you accept them gratefully.

“Oh, you remembered my favorite flowers!” you exclaim as you examine the bouquet. “I have something for you as well.”

You hand him an envelope and he eyes it curiously when a voice interrupts you.

“(Name).”

You hear an awkward cough behind you and you turn to see your parents. They stand there awkwardly, fidgeting with their hastily-purchased bouquet of flowers that pales in comparison to what Alhaitham got you.

(You don’t even like the kind of flowers your parents got for you and you’ve told them that before…)

“Congratulations on gradu-”

“Oh, you must be Alhaitham!”

Your mother’s sudden remark takes all of you by surprise. She rushes forward and eagerly shakes his hand.

“I’ve heard so much about you! You just graduated and you’ve already made a name for yourself in Sumeru as a genius! How incredible is that? Ah, if only my child here could learn from you, but they’ve already graduated, so it’s a little too late for that now…”

You bite your lip and look away. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Alhaitham. He retracts his hand.

“It was nice to meet you. We’ll be taking our leave now.”

“We’ll?”

Alhaitham ignores them in favor of holding your hand and leading you away.

“I think a celebration is in order. The owner of the stall that sells your favorite Padisarah Pudding is offering us free dessert today.”

The heaviness that was hanging over you just a moment ago is now gone.

“Free desserts? I’m in!”

“Then it’s settled.”

Later that night, Alhaitham remembers the letter you gave him earlier and pulls it out. He glances at the clock. There’s still time before he has to leave and meet up with you.

Dear Alhaitham,

Thank you for being by my side throughout these four years when no one else was. I owe my entire academic career to you. Perhaps even my entire life. I don’t know if I’d be writing this letter if it weren’t for you.

When I saw you on the first day, I wondered what you were doing here. You were short, scrawny, and shy back then. I thought you were one of those child prodigies. Who knew you’d turn out to be the buff man skilled with the sword that I know today…

Honestly, I didn’t think that you would help me. You were the envy of our class, unlike me. I wouldn’t be surprised and I wouldn’t blame you if all that praise got to your head. I guess I didn’t know you well enough back then, though, because you defied all of my expectations. Not only did you not care for status or fame, you also took time out of your own day (which I know you hate doing) for me.

You really are an enigma, Haitham. You’re a person with several layers and hidden secrets like an intricately-designed mechanism. But I think that’s one of the reasons that drew me to you. Everyone has their own secrets and burdens. By slowly learning more about each other, you learn more about yourself.

You and I, we are inseparable now. Earlier today, I had someone come up to me and ask where you were. They were surprised that you weren’t next to me like always. At first glance, we seem more different than similar, especially with our contrasting personalities. But take a closer look and they’ll see that we share more in common than in differences. Opposites attract, but similarities bind.

Like those dusty old philosophers and figures that we had to learn about in class, we are parallels of each other. You are simultaneously my biggest critic and supporter. My biggest rival and confidant. My biggest headache and source of comfort.

But most importantly, you are my biggest friend.

Remember that one night where I asked you what you wished for? You had said that you wanted to keep talking to me regardless of how things turned out in the future. I didn’t really have a response at the time, but now I finally do.

My wish is selfish. I wish for you to stay the way you are. A little arrogant, blunt, curious, and caring in your own way. Because I can’t imagine a future without you in it now.

With all my love,

(Name)

The house is too quiet for Alhaitham’s liking. He appreciates silence when working and Kaveh’s incessant noise from working on projects at midnight is downright irritating, but there is a time and place for everything.

Now is not that time. Thamina is sleeping on the cushion next to him. Kaveh is out in a meeting with a client (for once) and you’re-

“I’m home!”

Speak of the devil, there you are. Thamina’s eyes open and she jumps off the cushion to greet you with a loud meow and a head rub against your legs. Alhaitham takes his headphones off and sets his book down before getting up to greet you after a long journey back from Mondstadt. You’re tired, your uniform is wrinkled, and your Kamera has been hastily shoved back into its case, but Alhaitham has never been more grateful to see you.

“Missed me?”

“You’ve been gone for too long,” he grumbles before pulling you into a tight hug and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Love, it was only for a month!”

“My point still stands.”

You scrunch your face up and eventually manage to wiggle your way out of his grasp. It’s been a few years since you’ve graduated. Alhaitham has dutifully taken on the responsibilities of the Akademiya’s Scribe while you now work as a reporter for a newspaper company. You love the job because it puts your Haravatat degree to good use and you get paid to travel, although you don’t like the part of being away from Alhaitham for extended periods of time.

“Are you still up for dinner and dessert even though it’s getting late?”

“At my favorite place?”

“Our favorite place,” he corrects.

“Oh, you like it now as well? Did some of my tastes rub off onto you?”

“The pudding runs I went on for you did that a long time ago.”

Comets are ephemeral in nature. Some of them are only seen once and then gone, lost in time and never to be seen again. But occasionally, in a twist of fate, they can be rediscovered although it may take hundreds or even thousands of years for them to return.

That comet he had wished upon several years ago had finally returned to him.

#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #victoria.writes

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himboskywalker · 1 year ago

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It’s jarring seeing how young Anakin and Ahsoka are in live action,and that’s the point. You look at these two babies,responsible for hundreds if not thousands of men in the middle of a war zone,with blaster fire reigning down,and you think oh god they’re children. And it’s not the Jedi’s fault,it’s exactly as Anakin says,it’s fight or die. They didn’t want war,to raise their padawans on battlefields or change the entire purpose of their order from keepers of the peace to soldiers.But the Separatists don’t fight fair,and certainly not Sidious backing it all. They pull unwilling planets into war they want no part of,and murder innocent civilians,and conquer entire systems in the name of “freedom and justice.”

The fact is this isn’t a war involving hundreds or thousands,it’s billions upon billions. It’s entire star systems and planets of families and children. The Separatists poison welled entire planets and THAT is what’s on the line for the Jedi. Not politics or the ideals of the Republic,but billions of people they’re meant to protect. And they don’t have a choice,not really,they have their own children on battlefields because of it,because it’s fight or die. And there’s no winning for the Jedi posted out in the field,because they are few and stretched laughably thin,and stuck between saving civilians and taking care of their own men in hopeless situations. They die doing it,one after the other. For a galaxy that turns on them and swallows down Sidious’s poison to believe they were to blame,that it was all their fault and they were greedy and warmongering.

Jedi padawans,children,fought to survive on battlefields,because they had to and for an order sworn on protection,there was no other choice. But as Anakin says,that is not their legacy,and it is not all they are. The Jedi are not the Clone Wars,and they are not children on battlefields,they are more than that. They are sacrifice,and selflessness,and hope,and giving everything for a galaxy that turns its back on them. They are enduring love,endless love.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #Ahsoka tano #Jedi #jedi order #Ahsoka series #Ahsoka spoilers #Ahsoka series spoilers

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ilovejoostklein · 5 months ago

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hii, a little request. could we get sum eurovision singer!reader with joost?? maybe after their endless flirting they end up having a one night stand in their hotel room😵‍💫 and after eurovision ends reader is caught by some fans attending joost’s concert in vancouver or they are seen attending a club together and being all cozy😫 sorry if it’s to much, feel free to decline🫶🏻

i got you! 💙

Little Stars

You’re Joost’s favorite girl at Eurovision

nsfw: smut, some fluff

The entire competition served more as an ego boost than as a popularity boost to your career. You were always an extrovert. As a child, you always got the same cliché comments that you’d either be a great lawyer or a performer, and you decided to choose the option that wouldn’t cause you to have a lifetime of boredom. It certainly helped that your parents stuck you in every extracurricular activity, dance, gymnastics, volleyball, to have an outlet for your energy and love for being the center of attention.

You’d discovered your singing talents from your father, who was an amateur singer. On weekend mornings, when the morning dew would still be on the plants, pale golden sunlight illuminating the streets of your city you’d rush down the stairs to join him when you heard the gentle strumming of his guitar with the song of the morning birds.

You two would sing a song together, the neighbors always taking a moment to listen from the windows or their doorsteps, people walking by smiling at you or taking a moment to talk. Your parents were adamant that you were born to be on stage, your family and neighbors nicknamed you their little star.

You first gained popularity after posting a few covers on YouTube when you were a teenager. It wasn’t much in terms of internet fame, a couple of thousand followers, and your most popular video getting a little over 100,000 views but it was surreal to you at the time. You always stuck to ballads, your voice strong and from your high stamina, you could belt out notes that lasted miles. It wasn’t until you showcased your dancing talents that your popularity seemed to ignite.

At first, it scared you a bit, but the attention was overwhelmingly positive besides the few comments from older people in your country who damned the youth and their nerve to have fun. You realized that your singing could only take you so far, millions of other people had nice voices, but few could captivate an audience like you with your stage presence. Before you knew it, you had enough money to hire a manager and move yourself and your parents to a nicer part of town. Your name spread across parts of Europe, and you became somewhat of a celebrity, selling out small venues and playing a few festivals.

You came from truly humble beginnings, and you suspected that was why so many audiences connected with and favored you, and a large reason why your application to Eurovision to represent your country was accepted. You were beautiful, incredibly talented, and had a larger-than-life charisma. In interviews and press conferences, it was the best thing, especially in the unique and rather tense climate of this year’s competition, but backstage was a completely different person.

You quickly gave yourself a reputation of being a flirt. You wore skimpy, bright outfits adorned with glitter and rhinestones with every practice and rehearsal. When you weren’t about to perform, you still wore mini skirts and the tiniest top imaginable. You walked around with your body practically on full display, some parts of your skin being hardly covered with fishnets or tights. You lived up to your nickname as being a star, the other contestants hearing it from your parents, but being grown up and leaning into your sensuality you were more like Venus now, your presence scorching, bright, and exigent.

Beside you in the sky of stars was Joost. If you had been a little star, he was the sun itself. You two had taken a liking to each other almost immediately and nearly became attached at the hip. It was far from platonic, but you found yourself amused at how you two could be able to flirt with each other so shamelessly and without constraint without doing more than hugging.

“Hi, baby.” You greeted him in one of the lounge areas for breakfast. It became an inside joke between you to constantly use silly pet names. It was very early morning, and the sun and blue skies were hardly present. “Can I sit with you this morning?” You smiled.

“You already know the answer, honey.” He smiled back. You loved how his smile would take up his entire face, you felt you could never get tired of looking at it. “I can’t wait to see you tonight.”

It was the day of the rehearsal before the finale, and the nerves hadn’t quite gotten to you yet. You nodded, watching as he fixed your plate with your usual breakfast order that he picked up. It was a sweet gesture that warmed your heart, you were beyond thankful to have someone who took you into their arms the way that Joost had.

You two sat down together at a corner table. You watched as sunlight blanketed his features. It reflected into the ridge of his nose and illuminated his eyes, you found yourself staring into them, never seeing eyes that reminded you of the crystal blue waters of the beach you grew up by.

“Your eye contact scares me.” He chuckled, the direct comment making you feel your heart drop to your feet. “It’s ok, gives me an excuse to look at you.”

“You have nice eyes.” You said, ripping a piece of your croissant that Joost had fried in the microwave, despite you asking it to be lightly warmed. “This is super cold, by the way.” You said, pushing the first piece into his mouth.

The bread burned his tongue a bit, but he was able to ignore the pain when he felt your fingers in his mouth. He bravely ran his tongue over the pads of your fingers, sucking down gently all while keeping his eyes set on you. You were speechless for a moment, seeing and feeling his sinfully pink tongue on your fingers before you were able to pull away.

“You drooled on me.” You looked down at your hand, seeing there were still crumbs on your fingers, and pushed them into your mouth. You watched Joost’s eyebrows raise as he stiffened in his seat, feeling himself getting far so excited so early in the morning.

You tasted him in your mouth, the sickeningly sweet syrup from his waffles and the bitterness from his coffee. “There’s crumbs on my fingers.” You said, “You don’t lick your fingers to get food off?”

“No,” He spoke, his tone a bit hushed, “I like to lick my fingers.”

You blushed at his comment, always catching the innuendo but never pushing it further. The two of you sat in silence for a moment to let the tension cool, as you always did when it became too unbearable.

“You’re the only performer who changes your outfits.” Joost was always the first to break the silence. “How short will your skirt be tonight?”

You laughed, “Shorter than last night.” You answered, his dimples giving away his amusement. “Your outfit is one of my favorites though.”

“Ah.” He said happily, “What do you like about it?”

“The color is nice.” You complimented, seeing in his face how much he loved the attention. “Is it hard to take off?”

He withdrew a bit, smiling knowingly but deciding to beat around the bush as you two formed a habit of doing. “Not really.” He said. “It’s very easy, I don’t need any help at all.” His answer was excruciating.

You rolled your eyes, “Well, I need a lot of help with mine.” You began, “There’s so many hooks and zippers, it’s so annoying.”

Joost hummed in absentminded agreement. You saw on the vacant expression on his face, and how he went back to eating his breakfast that you’d give him too vivid of a picture. All he could imagine now was being alone with you in the dressing room, undoing all the hooks and zippers you were talking about. He’d want to rip apart those fishnet stockings you always wore, the thought of seeing the gentle threads snap apart from his hands revealing your soft skin drove him wild. The imagery became too much eventually, and he felt a bit of shame when he saw your gentle, unknowing face across him.

“You know you’re gonna win, right?” You said suddenly, making his expression drop into something deathly serious.

“It would be nice.” He mumbled nervously, his nerves entangling themselves together even tighter than before. “You think so?”

“No, Joost.” You glanced at the clock on your phone, realizing you’d spent too much time at breakfast. “I said I know you’re doing to win.”

The night of the semi-final had solidified Joost’s obsession with you, but he realized he was in a long line of admirers. It was like he was in a trance, your voice like a siren’s, and the way your outfit glittered and reflected onto the bright light, it was surreal. He wanted to congratulate you after, but he saw that a crowd had already formed around you, specifically that the Croatian performer, Baby Lasagne, another favorite, had beaten him to it.

Joost watched from afar, how you smiled constantly and looked so animated talking to him. His hands grazed your bare arm a few times, and every time it felt like it tugged on his heart in a horrible, unfamiliar sensation. It pained him a bit to know that you were known as a flirt, wondering if the way you looked at him and clung by his side meant anything at all or if it was all a part of some game.

He saw you again walking down the hall when he felt a tap at his side. He knew it was you immediately, turning around he couldn’t help but bring you into a hug that left your feet dangling as he rambled on about how well you did.

“Are you kidding?” You said, holding onto his neck before he set you down. “You’re fucking amazing Joost, I loved watching you.”

He scoffed, looking down at you still in your outfit, it was like he was dreaming. He yearned to keep his hands on your waist, but his better senses got the better of him, and his arms returned to his side.

“I think everyone loved watching you more.” He began, remembering how he had to watch another man try to charm you the way he’d been for the past few days. “I don’t have people crowding me after I perform.”

You raised your eyebrows, remembering how the Croatian performer came up to you to talk you up, offering to take you for a drink and inviting him back into his room, an offer that you left to a ‘maybe’ just to keep him hanging. You saw Joost at the end of the hallway, now realizing that he didn’t just happen to be there but he was watching.

“You sound jealous.” You teased, seeing a blush begin on his face, like red wine spilling on pristine sheets. “Anyways, I’ve got to get going.”

Joost hated when you did that, knowing that you had nothing to do but sit in your room, drink obnoxiously expensive liquor, and talk about equally as obnoxious things with your friend. He wished he had it in him to ask to go back with you, but the fear of rejection always struck too hard and quickly for him to take advantage of the moment.

The day of the finale, it didn’t come as a surprise to anyone but Joost that he’d won, and you’d been the runner-up. You didn’t have much of a competitive spirit, the experience of Eurovision alone already felt like a victory in itself. When it was announced that he’d won, you two hugged in front of what felt like a sea of cameras and you were able to sneak a kiss on his cheek before he went up on stage to be awarded. There was far too much commotion directly afterward to see him again, it was physically painful to feel him slipping away from you and realize that this, like all good things, was all finally ending.

Joost found you again in the early hours of the morning, holding flowers at your door dressed down in a simple t-shirt and jeans from his short night out to come to personally congratulate you. He noticed you weren’t at any of the after parties, and even his own which admittedly stung a bit. He had an evening flight the next day, so he could stand to lose a bit of sleep if it meant seeing you one last time.

You answered the door in a robe, from your exposed skin it seemed like nothing else was underneath. You smiled and laughed to conceal the overwhelming feelings that filled your chest from the gesture.

“You’re so sweet, Joost.” You said as you took the small bouquet from him. “I have some champagne in my room if you want to share, it for the winner.”

Joost felt a weight lifted off his shoulders, freeing him from the torturous game you’d forced him to play as he finally was alone with you. Whether or not he’d leave with anything didn’t matter, he just wanted a moment with you that wasn’t in the halls or the lounges.

Your room was serene and surprisingly organized, unlike his with bottles piled on the coffee table and clothes all over the couch. The lights were low, and soft music played in the background, by the look of the skincare products on the vanity it seemed that he’d interrupted your bedtime ritual.

He watched as you poured a sparkling glass of champagne for him, clinking your glasses together before taking a sip. It was a bit sweet for his liking, but it made sense if it was coming from you. He knew you were the type to overindulge, like a child of Dionysus you lived for worldly pleasures and your enjoyment alone. He wondered if he would be a part of those pleasures if you’d fall into him like you did your other vices.

“I’m going to spend a little bit more time here.” You said, “I’ve never been to Sweden before.”

Joost nodded, knowing that you came from a small city and that all this travel was probably the best thing in the world for you. “I leave tomorrow.” His tone was a bit disappointed. “I would’ve liked to stay a little longer though.”

You hummed in agreement, “So,” You began, setting down the half-finished glass of your drink. “You only came to give me flowers?”

He felt his grip tighten on the delicate glass, looking down at you, he noticed that the fabric of the robe had fallen forward a bit, exposing a bit of your naked chest and body. “No.” He confessed, “Just an excuse to see you, the flowers were mine.”

“It’s rude to regift.” He hated your teasing, he hated the ever-present sensuality in your voice. “Alright, well, you saw me.”

You watched as Joost’s eyes widened at you, a desperate look on his face from how insufferable you had become. He knew that you had seen right through him this entire time, and he felt that you were now making a mockery of him. Even if he was the one with the dishonest motives, if he was the one staring down your robe, he felt that he was completely naked in front of you.

“You’re too much.” He mumbled, fumbling with the intricate buckle of his belt and swirling the champagne in his cup. “You don’t even come to my fucking party.”

You smiled at him, but not like you had been doing before, “Is that belt bothering you?” You asked before reaching over, your hands gently moving his away. “Let me help you.”

You undid his belt with a bit of a struggle, finally pulling it off and letting it fall to the floor. Joost felt his breath get caught in his throat, looking down at you as you undid the button to his jeans that now felt suffocating and pulled down the zipper. The sound of his clothing coming off echoed in his mind and made him grow rigid. He tried to relax, trying to see you for what you were, someone who was just as crazy for him as he was for you, instead of someone who had the upper hand.

You couldn’t bear to deny yourself anymore, the tension finally snapping loose as your fingers dipped underneath the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down in one desperate, fluid motion. Joost began to step away so that he’d be able to sit down on the chair across from you, his pants and underwear pooling at his ankles as you followed shamelessly.

You mused at his size, wrapping your hand around the base you couldn’t help but take it all in. Joost was pretty, all of him was so fucking pretty. His dick looked perfect in your hands, just big enough that you knew it would hurt and prove itself to be a challenge that you were eager to take on. His skin radiated warmth, it was softer than any other man you’d touched. You nearly salivated the longer you pumped him in your hand, drawing out soft groans before you finally took him into your mouth.

It was as if you were a groupie how enthusiastic and sloppy you were. He watched through half-lidded eyes as you took all you could, your hands pumping at the base of what you struggled to fit. Your tongue was sinful, swirling around his shaft and sensitive tip, sucking him off so well he began to lose all rationality, wondering how crazy it would be if he asked you to be his girlfriend after all of this.

Joost grabbed the glass of champagne and began drinking again, the rush of sweetness on his tongue paired with getting head from his new favorite girl was heavenly. His ego had completely taken over, he was a winner and deserved to feel like it. He wanted to have you for as long as he could. He didn’t want to finish like this, so he poured himself another glass and pulled your head away gently so that you’d face him.

“Kiss it.” He said, the glass sparkling and bubbling alongside his eyes that now were drowned out by his pupils. “Look at me while you do it.”

Your body grew numb at his request, seeing him rip the control that you once had as he sat in your room, drinking your champagne with his fingers tangled in your hair telling him to kiss his dick for him. He knew you liked to put on a show, using it to his advantage he watched from above, glass to his lips before you listened.

You felt passionate desire pour out of you as you mindlessly kissed and licked on his dick. You pressed sloppy, wet kisses all over, sucking down gently on the tip as he watched quietly, suppressing his moans and taking sips of his drink. The only sounds were coming from you, you moaned from the pleasure it gave you to be touching him, and how much you loved the feeling of your saliva and his pre cum dripping all over your face.

Your lips were plush and greedy against him, the sight itself better than the sensation. When he’d finally had enough, he pulled you up so that you’d be sitting on his lap, your face was a bit too messy, so he took a makeup wipe from your vanity and gently cleaned your face.

“Here,” Joost offered the last sip of champagne from his glass, “Wash your mouth.”

He pressed the cool glass to your lips and watched as you drank until there was nothing left. He finally pulled you into an impatient kiss, but it was much softer than you expected. He kissed you tenderly, his arms holding your body taut, so much that you felt his heartbeat against yours. You could tell even if this was all unintended and in the heat of the moment, the feelings you shared underneath were all genuine.

You held his face in your hands, his stubble rough against your palms. You wished you could stay like that forever, but the ache in between your legs would never allow you. You lowered one hand so that you could untie the knot on your silky robe and let it fall off your shoulders. Joost felt the shift in the fabric and moved one hand up to cup your breast and squeezed down, pulling away from the kiss to look at you.

He left a trail of kisses on your neck, sucking down on the sensitive skin before leaving a mark right below your ear so that he’d give you something to remember him properly. It was crimson, deep, and loving, you wished that he’d even left more. You loved the feeling, and you let him know with the way you squirmed in his thigh and whined with every kiss.

As much as he enjoyed moving slowly, the time was passing by too quickly and he was animalistic in his desire to fuck you. It felt as if he’d been putting out for a lifetime, his better judgment was non-existent. He paid just enough attention to your breasts, he’d hate to neglect something so perfect, kissing them lovingly, before kissing down your stomach down to your thighs.

Joost kissed in between your thighs slowly. His lips lingered too closely to where they should’ve been teasing you to the point it felt cruel. As you watched his languid motions, how much intention and care he put into every touch, you could tell how crazy he was for you, how your flirting had driven him to this madness. Your hand ran through his hair as he continued to press soft kisses against your skin, making him look up at you with a pleading expression,

“Can I?” He asked in a strained whisper, you blushed a bit seeing him soften so much and ask the most obvious question.

“Please.” You could hardly speak seeing him like that, he was unrecognizable from the man you’d known before. “I’m yours.”

He wondered if you could peer into his mind into his deepest desires. Joost ate you out as his thoughts raced, somehow without the overt focus it felt so much more natural and perfect for you. He was operating on pure instinct now, his mind elsewhere, thinking ahead to when he’d get to fuck you as his mouth preoccupied itself. He moaned against you, his warm tongue lapping against your clit desperately. The sounds you made only made him more determined, so much so that he couldn’t feel the ache in his jaw and weakness in his tongue.

His thoughts then floated to the image of when he’d make you cum. The taste of you was addicting, better than an ice-cold shot of his favorite liquor and the first cigarette out of a fresh box. The taste of you dripped down his chin like biting into an overly ripe peach, messy, sticky but inexplicably perfect. He kept your trembling thighs apart with his strong hands, like the skin of a fruit as delicate as a peach he was careful not to hurt you, but you seemed to become more beautifully vocal when his fingers would dig down into your flesh.

“I’m close.” You mumbled, not wanting to lose your high, the feeling of your orgasm building steadily in the bottom of your stomach. “Please don’t stop Joost.”

He forced himself to listen, if time wasn’t against him he would’ve edged you to the point of tears until you would be coming undone, ripping at the seams for a well-deserved orgasm rather than one so easily given. His soft lips pressed down on your clit, sucking down gently he knew you weren’t going to last too long, but just to make sure he traced your entrance with two long fingers and fucked your desperate, soaked pussy.

You lost yourself in the bliss that washed over you. You’d never felt anything quite like it, it was ecstasy in its purest form. He fucked you through it, gentle whispers guiding you back to reality as you clenched and writhed against his hand to ride out your orgasm.

“That’s it, dotje.” His voice was so delicate and comforting against the intensity that overcame your senses. “I’ve got you.”

You felt tears in your eyes from how tightly they’d been shut. Looking down as the feeling subsided into a nearly sedated, dreamy sensation you watched as Joost withdrew his hand from you. Wincing at the loss of his fingers, desperately needing something inside of you again you watched as his two fingers, completely drenched in your slick arousal went into his mouth.

You wished you had it in you to tease him and remind him about the time you’d had breakfast together, but it was all a distant, meaningless memory now. You were entranced watching him lick his fingers clean, he stared you down as he did it, his tongue swirling around to taste every last bit of you.

“You taste so good.” His voice too was unrecognizable, his lust for you so apparent that you found yourself feeling much more bare than just in the literal sense. “Open your mouth.”

His fingers were warm, you’d finally returned the favor and sucked down to taste yourself like he wanted. After he was satisfied, he wiped his hand against his torso carelessly, reaching into the pocket of his jeans that were tossed on the floor to pull out his wallet. He always kept condoms, although he hadn’t acclimated himself to a rock star lifestyle yet he was glad that he’d made a habit of always carrying some.

“Can I go on top?” You asked sweetly, only for him to shake his head with a smile.

“No.” He said plainly, tearing open the holographic packaging. “I want to be romantic.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Joost made you feel at ease, he was undoubtedly a special person who would always have a small piece of your heart. You wished that he didn’t make you feel so warm inside, a fling and one nightstand should’ve made you feel nothing but lust.

Even if he had been joking, it had been romantic. He laid atop of you, kissing you just slow and deep as he fucked you. He filled you up so perfectly that you could do nothing but hold him close and moan into the never-ending kiss. You tensed a bit at first, but he was gentle, touching you sweetly to relax your body so that he could bottom you out.

Joost lasted a bit longer than you anticipated, you even grew a bit sore from how much he stretched you out and your body soon became weighed down with a drunken feeling. The champagne had long worn off, but nothing was comparable to getting fucked by such a man who wasn’t only gorgeous, but completely on top of the world.

It made you feel a bit shallow, wrapping your legs around him as he began to kiss your neck to give your lips a break. You tugged on the longer part of his hair possessively, eliciting a low groan from him. Just like you’d boosted his ego, he was now doing the same for you. Even if you didn’t win the competition, you’d have the person who did wrapped around your finger.

He came inside you without any verbal warning, but his body gave him away. You felt entranced by it, the way he panted and moaned Dutch praises tangled with English ones. His cock twitched when he finished, a bit disappointed you couldn’t enjoy it fully and all you felt was the warmth.

What followed was a bit disappointing. Your head was a wreck for the days after, thinking of how Joost left in the later morning hours after spending what was left of the night cuddling with you. Your remaining time in Sweden was beautiful with your friend, but you’d promised to fly back to Vancouver to see her family so that they could give you proper congratulations.

You’d confided to your friend on a drunken night in Stockholm about your night with Joost, which failed to surprise her. As you lay in the living room of her parent's house, watching her nieces and nephews play and talk your ear off about Eurovision you noticed her running into the house.

“Check your phone.” She was far too excited, making you nervously take your phone from the coffee table. “Hurry!”

You looked at her messages to see tickets to a festival, looking at the line your heart nearly sank at seeing Joost’s name. You were silent for a while, your face still and statuesque you’d unintentionally offended your friend.

“Uh,” She began leaning down to look at you. “Do you not want to go or something?”

You shook your head, “Of course I do.” You said quietly, not wanting the kids to butt into the conversation. “I just hope I can see him, not just watch.”

You certainly got what you wanted. After watching the show, it felt like you’d been falling in love for a second time with the way he performed. You loved seeing him get to see him being himself without constraint, even if he was completely out of his element in Canada he was too charming for anyone not to like him.

You found Joost after his show, not needing to say anything, your arms wrapping around his torso as you two stood behind the stage as the next performer went on. You realized you were still in the open for everyone to see, but even if you noticed groups of people slowing down to stare at you two you hadn’t cared.

“There are people taking pictures.” He whispered, nodding over to one of the passing groups, presumably Eurovision fans.

You shook your head, cupping his face for what felt like the last time as the sun-kissed all his features for you. You didn’t want to do anything else but admire him for as long as you could.

#joost klein #joost #fanfic #smut #fluff #eurovision #europapa #joost x reader #fem reader

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pretzel-box · 1 month ago

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Mafia AU Drabble / Suggestive Mature Stuff under the cut

The large room is dimly lit, with only the faint glow of the city skyline spilling through the large windows. You sit quietly in the plush armchair, your heart beating faster than usual while Sebastian leaned in closer.

His large hand wandered up to his fine lips as his teeth bit down on the leather of the glove, pulling the small clothing item of his hand in a slow and smooth motion, dropping it on top of your slightly exposed chest. The evening air feels heavy with tension as his fingers traced your clothed thighs, going up and under your shirt, touching every inch of delicate skin they could find. The expensive decor, the glass of fine wine on the table and the reflection of the crystal chandelier all dropped into the back of your mind as Sebastian Solace kissed your neck with a lively passion, nibbling on your skin and leaving his marks. You moaned softly under his touch, your arms moving on their own as you pulled him closer, drunk from his heavenly scent alone.

There's a sharp contrast between the tender touch and the dominance you feel radiating from him.

His other hand moves with practiced ease, fingers working deftly on the buckle of his expensive belt. The metallic click echoes in the dim room, a brief sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

Before you can fully process the moment, the warmth of his skin meets yours. The heat of his chest presses against your body, igniting every nerve with an electric sensation. His fingers move to the buttons of your shirt, each one undone with agonizing slowness, revealing more of your skin to the cool night air. His lips, soft yet insistent, travel down the line of your collarbone, leaving a trail of heated kisses that send sparks of desire through you.

When his tongue flicks across a sensitive spot just below your collarbone, your body reacts involuntarily, arching into him. He cups the bottom of your thigh, squeezing the skin and lifting your leg with ease before he finally moves his lips further down.

Being married to Sebastian Solace meant living a life draped in luxury, where every desire was met with little more than a whispered request. It was a world of glamour, endless wealth, and the kind of romance that others only dreamt of. All you had to do was stay by his side, adorned in the finest clothes, a silent muse for the man who worshiped you and was ready to devour you at any moment.

Sebastian had two sides, each perfectly balanced as he navigated his complicated life with an effortless grace. By day, he was the charming figurehead of high society, the powerful leader of one of the most feared mafia families in the city. He held the city’s power balance in the palm of his hand, manipulating it like a puppet master, never sparing a thought for the dangers that loomed. He had enemies, yes, but none were foolish enough to challenge him directly. Not with you by his side.

Because when it came to you, nothing else mattered.

His dangerous world faded into the background the moment he looked into your eyes. His focus was singular, always on you. One word from your lips, and the world would bend to your will. If you wanted it, it was yours. He had no limits when it came to spoiling you—lavish trips, private jets, and nights spent under the stars in cities you barely had time to learn the names of. One day you’d be flying over London, and the next, you’d be having breakfast in Paris before taking a late swim in the crystal-clear waters of Hawaii. Time felt irrelevant when you were with him, as though the rest of the world was just a backdrop to your whirlwind life.

You want a car? He’ll get you seven, one for each day of the week—sleek, custom-made vehicles that suited your every mood. You want new clothes? He’ll buy out entire boutiques, filling your wardrobe with high-end fashion from every corner of the globe. And when a closet wasn’t enough to hold it all, he’d give you an entire house just for your clothes, a personal fashion haven, because why not?

To Sebastian, there were no limits. He treated you like royalty, giving you everything before you even had to ask. All he wanted was to see that look in your eyes—the one that showed how much you loved it, and maybe just a little bit how much you loved him for it in return. He will fulfill your dreams all with a handkiss and a charming smile.

#roblox pressure #sebastian solace #pressure #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace fanfic #pressure x reader

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sosa2imagines · 5 months ago

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Broken Hearts. Part 1

Warnings- Cheating, abusive husband, possessiveness. ---------------------------------------------------

“One way or another, I'm gonna find ya I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya”

Your heart pounded against your chest like a relentless drum, echoing through the walls and drowning out the sound of your pacing footsteps. Your legs ached from the endless motion, muscles screaming for a reprieve, yet your mind remained fixated on the front door, awaiting a sign, a sound, anything that would signal Steve's return home.

Steve Rogers successful business man, he can own anything with his good looks and money, but can't have your heart anymore. Broken and shredded to pieces.

The clock on your nightstand ticked incessantly, the harsh sound a cruel reminder of the passing time. The night seemed to stretch, each second dripping by like molasses. You glanced at the alarm clock again, the digital numbers glaring back at you, mocking your impatience. 3:24 AM.

Steve's love for Peggy had always lingered, a specter in the shadows of your relationship. Whenever his gaze would turn distant, you could sense the ghostly hold Peggy exerted over his heart. Memories of her whispers in his ear, the touch of her fingertips on his skin, haunted your imagination.

In college, Peggy had never spared a glance in Steve's direction, her sights set firmly on charming wealthy students. But once Steve's star began to rise and his net worth skyrocketed, Peggy suddenly found herself drawn to his path.

Her interest piqued not by his character or achievements, but by his newfound financial status. The irony wasn't lost on you. Peggy's change of heart spoke volumes about her true motives and the fickle nature of her affections.

Her name slipped from Steve's lips effortlessly, like a gentle caress he couldn't resist. You longed to be the only love that filled his heart, but the ghost of Peggy Carter cast a long shadow over your relationship.

His excuses were varied and numerous. Crucial meetings, and the ever elusive ‘work-related emergencies.’ He would tell you with a straight face that he had to stay late at work, while he secretly met Peggy in hidden corners of the city, away from prying eyes and suspicions.

Your gut instincts told you something wasn't right, that his absences were not entirely innocent. But love kept your doubts at bay, and you tried to push away the nagging feeling that something was amiss. You trusted Steve, desperately wanting to believe in the strength of your relationship.

Whenever he returned home late, a faint but unmistakable scent of Peggy's perfume clung to Steve's skin. You tried to ignore it, pretending it was nothing more than a coincidence, but the sharp pang of pain pierced through your heart.

You noticed the faint nail marks on his back, faint reminders of passionate embraces he had with Peggy in secret. His disheveled state was a clear sign, of the physical connection he shared with her, and your fears grew stronger with each evidence you discovered.

Your love for Steve drove you to make sacrifices, to prove your devotion and commitment beyond measure. Leaving your job was a painful decision, a surrender of your own independence and identity, hoping it would strengthen the bond between you and Steve.

It was a desperate attempt to win his undivided attention and affection, a last resort to make him see the depth of your love and loyalty, even going as far to eating only food he likes.

Your heart ached with longing, the desire to start a family with Steve burning deep within you. You proposed the idea to him, hoping for a positive response. But to your disappointment, Steve's response was distant and vague.

Peggy's manipulative nature had always bothered you. She had a way of exploiting Steve's good nature, taking advantage of his unwavering loyalty.

Despite your concerns, Steve remained oblivious to her true intentions, viewing her through rose-colored glasses. He could only see the best in her, disregarding the evidence of her selfishness and deceit. You tried to open his eyes, but Steve’s unwavering trust in Peggy left you feeling helpless and frustrated.

Slowly but surely, Steve's attempts at hiding the marks and the scent of Peggy's perfume began to weaken. He became careless, no longer making an effort to cover up the evidence of his infidelity.

His disheveled state and the lingering scent of Peggy's perfume seemed to mock your sacrifices and love. The lack of effort in concealing his lies only fueled your suspicions and deepened the ache of mistrust. It was a cruel reflection of his growing indifference and waning devotion to you.

As the front door creaked open, your heart leapt into your throat, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. With a forced air of nonchalance, you lay perfectly still in bed, feigning sleep. Your breath hitched in your throat as the weight of your husband's presence filled the room.

You could hear the soft padding of Steve's feet against the carpeted floor. With each passing second, the tension in the air grew thicker, the knot in your stomach tightening painfully. Finally, the weight of the mattress shifted as Steve settled beside you, his body a mere breath away.

The silence between you both was suffocating, broken only by the sound of your shallow breathing. You fought the urge to flinch, as his hand brushed against your shoulder, a brief touch filled with a mixture of affection and guilt. But you remained firm, determined to maintain the façade of sleep, even as your mind raced with conflicting emotions.

Steve's voice whispered through the darkness, a faint attempt to gauge your awareness. “Baby doll?” he called softly, the word carried on a gentle exhale. His touch, a gentle poke meant to test your response. You remained motionless, feigning deep sleep through clenched teeth, praying that your act would hold.

Time seemed to stretch, the minutes lingering as Steve waited for a sign of awakening. You held your breath, willing yourself to maintain the illusion of slumber, while your heart thumped loudly against your chest. Steve's hand remained gently resting on your shoulder.

Despite your feigned slumber, your mind was vividly aware of Steve's movements. He reached for his phone, his fingers moving quickly over the screen as he typed a message to Peggy. Once his communication was complete, he placed the device back on the nightstand and shifted his body closer to yours. His arm draped over you, a possessive gesture, as if asserting his power over both you and Peggy in his secret deception.

As Steve's arm encircled you, you fought against the natural instinct to recoil from his touch. Your body stiffened instinctively, tensing beneath the weight of his embrace, but you managed to conceal your discomfort. Pretending to remain blissfully unaware, you kept your eyes tightly shut, determined not to let any crack in your performance. It took every ounce of your willpower to maintain the illusion of deep sleep and contentment, even as your inner turmoil threatened to shatter the facade.

The following day, you woke up early, fueled by a mixture of determination and heartache. With a feigned smile and a practiced lie, you told Steve that you had errands to run that would keep you preoccupied until late in the evening. His eyes betrayed a flicker of relief, believing your words without question, allowing you to leave the house unnoticed.

Sitting across the table, Matt Murdock, your best friend, appeared calm and composed. His eyes, sightless yet perceptive, remained unfocused as he tilted his head slightly to focus on your voice. Despite his blindness, Matt's exceptional senses had sharpened over time.

Matt wanted to tell you something about your aunt's will. She had passed away few weeks ago. Your husband did not accompany you, to her funeral, because he was balls deep busy with Peggy.

“Y/n thanks for meeting on such a short notice” “No problem Matt.” “How are you?” “Good... doing nice.” “It's Steve isn't it?” “Wait, what?” “Y/n, I know he is an ass and don't you dare lie to me!” God Matt's senses were impeccable. “Well… Peggy is back.” you answer truthfully.

“Divorce him!” He just says it so casually, you look at him with your mouth open, trying to say something but closing it again. “Are you serious?” you ask him bewildered. “Yes! Dump his cheap ass, remember Andy Barber our friend? He is back in Boston, he will help you with the divorce.”

He even hands you Andy’s contact number and you just stare at him with disbelief, sure you wanted to leave Steve, but you were waiting for the final nail in the coffin.

“Matt I'll think about it, can we please drop this topic?” “Fine, but please consider my advice.” “Okay…”

“The reason I called you here is because, your aunt left her house and café for you. You are the sole owner now, of her house and her café 'Snowflakes'“ “Wow that woman was adamant I look after her café, she really did left it for me.” Your aunt always believed in you and she was sure, you would handle her café with ease.

“She was also adamant about Steve…” Matt smirks. “Matty!” You plead.

“Fine. The place is run by Happy, his wife May, she cooks and bakes. Peter May's nephew and his girlfriend MJ, work there part time.”

Looking through the records, you are impressed by them, and excited about the new opportunity. But for now they don't need you. Not because they don't want you, but because of your husband. Steve won’t allow you.

Later that day, returning home earlier than expected, you were ambushed by a sight that shattered your fragile composure. There, in your own bedroom, Steve and Peggy lay intertwined on the bed, their bodies moving together in rhythmic ecstasy. The sound of their moans filled the air, a symphony of passion that pierced deep into your wounded soul.

The sight of Steve's betrayal, coupled with the pain of seeing him engaged in such intimate acts with Peggy, hit you like a tsunami. Your heart shattered into countless pieces, each one stabbing relentlessly, until you feared there was nothing left but a hollow shell.

Your legs threatened to buckle beneath the weight of your emotional turmoil, but somehow you managed to remain standing, silently witnessing the spectacle before you.

Blinded by grief and consumed by raw despair, you found yourself fleeing from your own home, desperate to escape the suffocating presence of betrayal. You stumbled towards the nearest park, your vision blurred by tears, your sobs echoing through the empty streets.

The park, once a place for carefree strolls, now became a sanctuary to release the floodgates of your anguish. You collapsed onto a bench, tears streaming down your face, as the pain of Steve's infidelity overflowed from within.

This was the final nail in the coffin and now you had made your mind.

Steve texted you asking when you will be back.

After an hour of raw vulnerability in the park, you found the strength to compose yourself.

“Y/n?” you ignore Steve calling you, going straight to your room, you open two suitcases and start to pack.

“Doll?” Steve stops in his tracks seeing you pack your stuff.

“Congratulation Steve, you are free to do, whatever you want with your bitch!” You clap your hands and Steve gives a fake hurt expression. “Doll what are you talking about?”

“It is over Steve!” You give him a tight smile. “Baby doll, what are you talking about?” Steve has the audacity to act dumb.

“Save the trouble ok? I know you have been with her long enough, to finally have her on our bed! I saw you with Peggy, so stop the bullshit, it is over!”

“You are still my wife!” Steve reminds you, as if you done something wrong.

“Wait!” Steve's possessive grip on your shoulders sent a chill down your spine, and the anger simmering beneath his tense words alarmed you. Fear crept into your heart, mingling with the pain of betrayal. In that moment, you feared the depth of Steve's possessive tendencies and the lengths he might go, to keep you captive in his web of control.

“You are not going anywhere baby doll, you are my wife and forever will be. Just because you are jealous, I won't let you go!” “You can't stop me!” “Y/n!” he screams, making his grip tighter on you, “You are going to stay with me like a loyal wife, whether you like it or not. You are not going to go understand?” He shakes you and barks every single word.

He shoves you on the bed, throwing the suitcases on the wall and locks the bedroom door.

“You are not going to leave me! you are mine and mine only!” “Steve open the door!” you keep on slamming, but it is of no use. “I'll be back by tomorrow, till then deal with your mood swings and accept the fact, you belong to your loyal husband!” with the that he slams the door and leaves.

You cry and cry not knowing what to do. Exhaustion and fear threatened to consume you, but with a final burst of resolve, you remember you have your phone with you and you dial the number of the only person, who can help you. Lloyd Hansen

Just on the third ring he picks up, no matter how busy he is he will always be there for you.

“Hey Sugar what's up?” “Ll..l..Lloyd…” “Sugar, I'm on my way!” “Please hurry up…” “Don't you worry.”

Part 2

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan @emerald-writes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @geeky-politics-46

@whore-for-chris-evans @caplanreblogsfics

#chris evans characters #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers fanfiction #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen x reader fluff #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader

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justsomerandomfanfic · 6 months ago

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Nighttime Nightmares - Kili Durin X Female Reader

Title: Nighttime Nightmare

Kili Durin X Female Reader

Additional Characters: The Company (the Dwarves and Bilbo) (Mentioned), townspeople (Mentioned), Smaug (Mentioned), Mr. Bramblethorn (Mentioned), Reader's adoptive and birth parents (Mentioned), and The Goblin King (Mentioned)

Requested by: @fuckyoumakeart!

WC: 2,163

Warnings: Nightmares mentioned, italics, alcohol/ale mentioned, Reader has adoptive parents (birth parents also mentioned), death mentioned, slight angst, and fluff

The night sky was littered with thousands of bright, brilliant stars. They shone down upon you, as if they were created just for your eyes only. They always brought a smile to your face. That was one of the many reasons why you loved taking night watch shifts. You were a bit of a night owl, as your friends and family back home used to say. Though, you also enjoyed mornings, sipping tea and eating a homemade breakfast in your garden. Mornings - sunrises - could never hold a candle to sunsets and the night.

There was just something different - special - about sunsets. Sunsets constantly reminded you that tomorrow was a new day, that there would be a new day after the next, even though this might not seem like such a big deal to other people. For you, it felt magical. The sunset was a wonderful reminder that you were part of an endless cycle and that everything around you was changing constantly and eventually.

You didn’t live too far from the soft sandy beaches of Middle Earth, and you loved it, especially at night. The moon at the beach seemed larger than ever. And you couldn't wait to go home after helping reclaim Erebor, and to feel the cold salt-ocean waves washing over your feet once more. The wet sand made you feel grounded and free.

But, like most times, your daydreaming was interrupted. Usually, your daydreaming was interrupted by one of the Dwarves; your shift would then be over and you would find your spot in your bed roll near the fire, to get some sleep till morning. But tonight was different. Your head snapped over to Kili, who suddenly shot up from his bed roll. His breathing was heavy and labored as his eyes flickered all around him.

His eyes then met yours, still wide and frantic, before they slowly calmed; softening. You didn't know what was entirely happening, but before you knew it, Kili was standing from his roll and walking over to the other side of the small camp; over to you. It was quiet, aside from the crickets and the wind brushing through the trees' leaves, and that silence that you usually found peaceful, turned into one that you wished to break as Kili wandered over to you, careful not to wake anyone up.

He stood beside your sitting figure, your body wrapped with your furs, and you looked up at him, confusion in your gaze. Wordlessly, you both exchanged words - something that he only seemed to achieve with you and his eldest brother, Fili - this something you found very comforting. Words spoken with gestures, facial expressions and subtle hints of meanings only you and him understood. You had grown accustomed to these exchanges between the two of you, and even more so to Kili's gentle touch when he reached towards you.

He sat beside you, after receiving your nod, and there you both sat, staring at the fire burning only feet from you. It was silent, minus the bugs and so one - as said before - but as you looked over at Kili, you frowned. Sitting beside you, the youngest Prince was fiddling with the stone from his mother, flipping the smooth stone over and over in his hands.

You could practically hear the gears in his head turning, and you wished to speak up, to ask him what was on his mind; most importantly, what had happened to have woken him up in such a manner that he felt the need to come sit by you. It must have been something terrible, terrible enough to spook the usually brave and bold Prince. You waited, patiently, waiting for him to tell you on his own time.

He opened his mouth, a deep sigh leaving him, before he softly spoke up a moment later, "I had a nightmare."

You nodded, pursing your lips, "I had a feeling you did." You answered, "It must have been frightening."

Kili pursed his own lips, tucking the rock away, "It was."

After a moment of silence, you spoke up, muttering, "Would you like to talk about it?"

"I'd rather not, at the moment, if you do not mind." He finally looked at you, your expression softened when your eyes met his brown eyes.

They seemed to sparkle under the soft light of the shimmering stars and the blazing fire; you could make out the golden flecks in his eyes. Then, there, you remembered the burning affection that you had for the youngest Prince, something that only began to make itself known two months into the journey to Erebor. Something that you had no idea how long it had been developing. You thought that maybe it was when you first saw him.

~~~

You didn't know much about your family, your parents. Your adoptive parents said that you were dropped off at their front door when you were just a wee bairn. All that you knew was that you were part Human and something else. You weren't completely sure, and for a big part of your life, you tried what you could to find out more about yourself. You read many books, reading all sorts of stories and myths. Sometimes, you thought you got glimpses of who you really were. But, you kept pushing yourself further. Reading more about what kind of person you were. Trying to understand. You never did truly get to find out what the other half of you was, and at this point of your life, you didn't care.

But you lived in a small Human town, somewhere near Lothlórien. It was a small town, no more than a couple hundred people lived there. There were nice cottage-like homes, a mill, farms, a pub with bedding, and even a small lake that many of the young children - including yourself at the time - would play in.

It was peaceful. And it was just another perfect day when the wind changed. For the first time in a long time, there were travelers wandering through. You had heard the buzz from the somewhat nosy townspeople; their whispers and murmurs were like a plague, spreading from one person to the next, until the whole town had heard news of the strangers.

At that time, you were working at the pub - being the owner, but you loved helping and bringing people their drinks. The room was dim, music playing, and drunks bumbling around, and talking about the newcomers. That's when you heard it all. You were initially intrigued. It had been a long time since someone new came to town. And to be honest, you loved your town, but it did become somewhat... Monotonous.

You didn't get to see these newcomers until they walked right into the pub. You were pouring old Mr. Lothar Bramblethorn's drink and the moment you saw Kili... Well, one minute the ale was being poured into the old man's mug, and the next, the mug was overflowing onto the wooden table.

Mr. Lothar Bramblethorn's hand on your arm snapped you out of your staring. You immediately apologized, feeling terrible, but Mr. Bramblethorn was actually the sweetest old man, who would laugh and say that no, don't apologize. Helping clean up the table, you then rushed to serve the fourteen travelers that entered your pub. You gave them all your best smile, greeting them, your eyes meeting the Dwarf that had completely caught your attention and made you over-pour ale.

Even in the dim light of your pub, you could fully make out his appearance. He had dark eyes, probably brown, you guessed. His curly hair was brown, that seemed to shine almost gold in the flaming lights. And while most, if not all the Dwarves, had beards, his was just a short stubble. Another thing that you noticed, was that he was somewhat tall for a Dwarf. And that growing smile of his... Eru... He was gorgeous.

Snapping out of your thoughts for the second time that night, you felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment, as you did your best to compose yourself and find a table for the thirteen Dwarves, and one Hobbit. Throughout the night, you made sure all their drinks were full, as well as their stomachs. It was astonishing how much of an appetite they all had. The seemingly leader of the group - a Dwarf that honestly intimidated you quite a bit - paid you a fair amount, for the food, ale, and sleeping quarters. Not long after, with their stomachs full, and bodies warm from the ale, they traveled up to the bedrooms on the second floor of the pub.

Well, long story short, you had heard around the pub that they were traveling to Erebor, to reclaim their home from the terrible dragon Smaug. It might've been the monotonous town, the lack of excitement, or maybe it was simply that you yearned for adventure - change. But, by the morning - and a lot of convincing - you were the proud fifteenth member of The Company.

~~~

Kili shivered, which was not usual for him, you noticed. Dwarves, you had learned, could withstand the cold; the chill of night. You frowned, deciding to speak, "Are you alright?" You asked softly, like a breeze through leaves, hoping to soothe his worries, and comfort him in any way you can.

His response to your question was immediate, as he looked at you, "I'm fine." He answered quickly, but his tone of voice was still laced with worry, "I thank you for your concern."

"Of course, Kili," You said, "If you need anything, I'm here."

He only shook his head, brushing his curly, brown bangs from his forehead briefly with a hand, "I do not want to burden you with my troubles."

With a sad look in your eye, you replied, "You will never burden me, Kili."

His brown eyes held yours as he looked straight at you. After a while, he turned away, his shoulders slumping down. "Thank you." Was all he whispered, quietly, but you still heard him. Once again, you gave him the time he wished for, to complete his thoughts, and it wasn't long until he spoke again, "Miss Y/N," He spoke up, making you look back over at him, from the stars.

"Yes, Kili?" You asked, clasping your hands together in your lap, seeing the battle going off in his mind, it was evident on his face; the apprehension.

"May I... Ugh, please, nevermind me, Miss Y/N," He shook his head, embarrassed and flustered. It was obvious that he wanted to ask something of you, but couldn't bring himself to.

You took a chance and reached out with a hand, placing it over one of his. The contact made him stop in his tracks, looking down on where your hand touched his skin. He looked up, his gaze locking with yours. "Whatever it is, Kili, you can ask me."

He stared at you, a certain intensity in his eyes, before he nodded, letting out a breath. "Can you..?" He trailed off, but with the context, the nightmare, how tight he held your hand in return, and the look in his eyes, you knew what he was trying to ask. That connection between the both of you, once again, made your chest swell and your heart flutter.

Opening your arms, he let out a sigh of relief, a small smile forming on his lips before he cuddled right into your side. His head found purchase on your chest, his arms lightly looped around your figure as your hand came up to gently rub against his back; your free wrapping the both of you in your furs. It was silent, once again, and you smiled. “Anything for you, Princey.” You muttered lightly, seeing just a hint of a smile as you looked down at him.

Kili finally shut his eyes, a small yawn leaving him, completely wrapped up in the scent that was so perfectly you. Finally, he could let himself relax, knowing that you were alive and alright. That nightmare, that awoke him in such a rush, was about you. The Goblin King had taken you, after the group had fallen right into a large trap. Kili could remember the fear in your eyes, the scream that left you as your body was being crushed in the Goblin's hands. Kili shuddered, squeezing his eyes tightly, trying to erase the memory of the nightmare from his mind.

He tried to pay attention to the way you rubbed your hand against his back, the soothing motions you made, the steady rhythm of your breathing, the warmth of your body pressed against his own. Kili felt himself beginning to calm down once again, his heartbeat slowing down, his breathing calming itself. Maybe he would tell you about his nightmare later down the road of the journey… Yeah, he’ll tell you everything another day... And, as Kili relaxed in your arms, he allowed himself to think back to when he'd met you, in that pub of yours.

---

Main Masterlist | Lord Of The Rings/The Hobbit Masterlist

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months ago

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Hi!! I sorta get the vibe that maybe Rook has some deep rooted trauma from his childhood?? Just because of how secretive he is; i know hes eccentric but i feel like it’s more than that. A lot of ppl are upset at Vil for “changing” Rook somehow but i feel like rook changed his appearance to match with Vil, moved to pomefiore, etc. because HE wanted to be more like Vil, i feel like him meeting Vil was a rly big turning point for him. And with how upset he was at having to hurt dream Vil and Neige (and his fanboy bedroom😭😭) i feel like he’s really dependent on both of them for his happiness and he’s avoiding dealing with some traumatic experience, but this could be a stretch. I was wondering what your thoughts were. Sorry this was so long, have a nice night!!🫶

Mmm, maybe? There's certainly nothing to disprove the idea, although there also isn't much to support it. Rook doesn't strike me as someone who is scared or put off by most things. He was very much able to keep his calm and composure even in demanding, high-stress situations like the STYX base raid in book 6 and the rescue operation in Endless Halloween Night. If he has experienced something dangerous and/or dark, he gives me the impression that he could handle himself just fine. (This isn't to downplay trauma; I'm just saying that Rook could very well be the type of person that reacts and copes well with it.) As for him being secretive, it could be for other reasons such as his family's line of work (which is implied to be pretty important, since they have warp pads and villas all over Twisted Wonderland). This would be reasoning similar to why Jade and Floyd's father's occupation is kept dubious. Rook's secretive nature could also be an intentional diversion (ie purposefully playing "the fool") so it's easier for his targets to lower their guards around him or not take him seriously. Really, there's many reasons for his enigmatic and eccentric attitude. I'm also of the opinion that you don't necessarily need to have a deep-rooted trauma to get deep into fandom or stan culture. Sometimes you just get really into something and want to dedicate your entire being to that which holds your attention! For Rook, that's Neige and Vil--and it hurts him on a deep level to have to harm those who have brought him so much joy. I liken it to like... how TWST fans have merch shrines dedicated to their favorite boys. Non-Twsties may not understand our love and dedication to these characters, nor why we may get upset if those merch shrines are destroyed or damaged.

I think a lot of Rook's emotional attachment to Neige and Vil doesn't come from "relying" on them to fill in some void within himself. Rather, the behavior stems from him literally viewing them as pinnacles of beauty, combined with his own reverence for beauty itself and how they've helped his own character development. We know that, as a child, Rook struggled to express himself and was first introduced to the magic of the arts when he watched a play that starred Neige. The performance and show must have deeply resonated with Rook. Later on, we see that he, as a first year Savanaclaw student, acts much closer to the Rook we know of today. Invasive, bright, speaking his mind in a verbose way, etc. This makes me think that it was through stanning Neige that Rook was motivated to express himself in a more open manner. Then, when Rook meets Vil, he's inspired and encouraged to beautify himself so as to be like the works of art he already admires. As you've said, Vil isn't the one forcing change on Rook; instead, Vil gives the suggestion and Rook becomes enraptured with the idea--to the point where he changes dorms against Vil's advice. This is another huge turning point in Rook's life. He changes dorms, becomes Vil's right-hand man, and drastically changes his appearance too. This is all so he can be closer to the "beauty" he wishes to see, so he can fully dedicate himself to that chase. Neige was the impetus that started it all, and Vil is the one who motivated Rook to go "above and beyond" in his pursuit of beauty. So thinking about it, Rook has gone on his own journey of personal growth, and Neige and Vil are both closely tied to that. It's like how some of us TWST fans have been with the game for a few years now. We've grown and changed, and TWST has been with us every step of the way. I bet you're a totally different person today than you were when you first came across your current hyperfixations. That's bound to deepen the emotional connection we already have with the object of our affections--be it TWST for us, or Neige and Vil for Rook, no trauma necessary. From all of that, I get the impression that Rook cherishes Neige and Vil because he has "grown up" with them and they're so pivotal to who he is and has become as a person. When he has to turn his arrow on them, it may hurt him in the sense that he's destroying his passions or the very figures who have inspired him to come as far as he has. That's how I interpret it!

I still think it's fine to headcanon whatever you want for Rook's past though! There's no harm in filling in the gaps with whatever you think suits the character or the story.

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almostgenerallyalways · 2 years ago

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mamas (don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader Category: angst / fluff / run-on sentences Word count: 3,1k CW: language, I’ve been to Texas once okay forgive me, divorce Author’s note: this was supposed to be a holiday fic but I got stuck on it and almost abandoned it, but here it is rescued from my drafts, shoutout to all the amazing tgm fic writers your writing truly astounds me

Summary: Every year around the holidays, you hear from your ex. This year when you don’t respond, he decides to show up at your door.

2022

Jake UT [November 23, 2022 at 10:24 PM]

Hey stranger

Visiting my mom for Thanksgiving

How’ve you been?

You ignore the message. How you’ve been in the last twelve months is not something you feel up to discussing with him.

You spend the next weeks dealing with crisis after crisis at work, leaning into the chaos like you have been all year. Your personal life? Garbage fire. Reconfiguring your entire pump setup two weeks before going to production, because the DoC slapped an import ban on one of your key suppliers in China? You’re on top of it.

But then, the week before Christmas, another message comes in:

Jake UT [December 17th, 2022 at 3:47 PM]

Hey

In town for the holidays

Would love to see you if you’re free

Brett welcome too, of course

A pang in your chest, but curiosity gets the better of you, so you text back:

Thanksgiving and Christmas? Judy must be thrilled.

You’ve met Jake’s mom all of one time, ten years ago, but she made a lasting impression. Fiercely protective of her only son, she’d been wary of you at first (you were, in order of importance: Too non-Texan, too vegetarian, and too focused on trying to rescue an almost-due group project for your sustainable water management class in which no one was pulling their weight).

And yet, over the Thanksgiving weekend you’d spent at Jake’s mother’s house in Colton, she’d slowly warmed up to you. You’d asked her endless questions about her job as a project manager at Austin-Bergstrom, and she’d poured you half glasses of wine (still exotic, to you, back then) at the kitchen island, shooing Jake back into the living room.

She’d even called you, after you guys broke up, to say she was sorry to hear it, and to tell you to call her up any time you needed someone to talk to. You’d tried your best to keep your voice even, not to break down in tears for the seventh time that day, and never called her again.

* * *

“Dude. Put your phone away for two minutes.”

Jake looks up apologetically at his friend, and pockets the device. “Sorry. Just expecting a text.”

Sandeep holds out his bottle of Lone Star, and Jake clinks it with his own. “It’s good to see you, man. Sorry I wasn’t around at Thanksgiving, we were visiting Jed’s family in NC. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Jake takes a swig of his beer, the cold liquid feeling like a balm to his throat. “Yeah, well. It’s been a big year, work-wise, so they owed me one. I wanted to spend some extra time with my mom.”

Bringing up his drink to toast again, Sandeep says: “Here’s to you, bud. And to getting that permanent assignment in California. At least we knew where to send our holiday card this year.”

Condensation drips down the neck of his bottle, and Jake spins it slowly in his hand, stopping himself from peeling off the label. He feels on edge, unmoored, despite this 6th Street dive bar being as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Sandeep’s got his number. “Seeing anyone else while you’re in town? I don’t know, Myers?”

Jake doesn’t look up, but feels his cheeks heat up fractionally.

His friend takes another swig of his beer. “I guess I should stop calling her Myers. You know, with the divorce and all.”

The bottle escapes Jake’s grip, and amber liquid sloshes across the table, into Sandeep’s lap. “Shit, Seresin! Grab some napkins, will you?”

* * *

2012

You’d always known there was an expiration date on this thing with Jake, which is why you’d been reluctant to meet his mom to begin with.

You wanted fundamentally different things. He, the Navy: Adventure, excitement, a chance to serve his country. You: Stability. A family. A place where you belonged.

Both of you: an opportunity to prove yourself.

It’s civil, as far as breakups go.

“You always knew I wanted to fly.” He says, over breakfast at Magnolia Café. There’s a hard set to his jaw that makes you soften in contrast, because of course you do, everyone who’s ever been near Jake Seresin for longer than ten minutes knows he’s always wanted to fly.

From your first date he told you about how Judy used to park him in her office at the airport when her summer childcare fell through; little Jake happily spending the day watching commercial jets taxiing and taking off in quick succession.

How her coworkers, the civilian engineers who’d stayed on after Bergstrom Air Force Base was decommissioned and commercialized, would regale him with stories about generations of F-4 Phantoms. Or the British Airways Concorde, one of only twenty of the ill-fated aircraft ever made, bringing the Queen to Austin in a little yellow hat. The Reconnaissance Air Meet bringing in the best fighter pilots from across all divisions of the military and abroad, to compete and show off their skills.

Jake would listen to them with stars in his eyes.

You pick at your migas, your appetite gone. “I know, Jake. I would never stop you.”

But you look at him, and you know your face mirrors his determination. “But I can’t come with you, Jake. I can’t start my career following you around from camp to base year to year. I’m forty-thousand dollars in debt getting this degree, and I need to follow my own plan.”

You haven’t moved in together, though Jake spends most of his nights at your tiny off-campus apartment, where you’ve made him countless cups of black coffee trying to fuel weekend study sessions. Where he would come in past midnight, back from the late shift at his part-time job at the H-E-B, and bury his face in your neck, waking you up even though you’d been asleep for hours. Where you would hold his sleeping head to your chest, his deep breathing somehow felt inside of you, and run your fingers up and down the bare skin of his back, trying to memorize him.

You’re twenty-two, you tell yourself. This is not the end of the world.

So you see him off at the front door, a box of his things clutched to his chest, and you force yourself to be strong. “You better be,” and you try to smile up at him, but you’re not sure you’re doing a convincing job, “You better be the best goddamn pilot the Navy has ever seen, Jake.”

For a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but then he just puts down the box, and pulls you into a last embrace. You sink into it, the fundamentally safe feeling of his arms around you, then make yourself pull away after a minute, pretending you don’t see the wet stains on his shirt.

Later you look at all the spaces in your apartment he is now conspicuously absent from (no dog-eared volume of Game of Thrones on the nightstand, no boots by the door), and it hits you then; the crevasse he’s left in your life. It may run deeper than you thought.

* * *

Jake had gone to Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island, then designator-specific training in Pensacola, Florida, and done his best not to think about you.

It helped that his days were intense and exhausting. It helped that, on liberty weekends, girls would flock to him and his friends in bars.

It helped to be several states away from you.

It helped to be living his dream.

* * *

There is a bit of a backslide, that first Thanksgiving after, where you both think it can’t hurt to see each other for one drink, for old time’s sake, which ends in him taking you up against the door in your new apartment, your legs wrapped around his waist because he does not have the willpower or presence of mind to figure out the way to your bedroom.

He knows it was a mistake, at about five AM the next day, when the blue light of morning starts streaming through a gap in the curtains, illuminating your tousled hair fanned out over the pillow, the steady rise and fall of your chest so familiar to him he could cry.

Untangling himself from you hurts, and he does perhaps the most cowardly thing he ever will: he sneaks out before you wake up. But next week he’s shipping out, and the thought of the same dead-end conversation over coffee made just the way he likes it is unbearable, so he makes himself walk away.

Somehow it’s worse, the second time around.

* * *

You’d met someone else, like he’d known you would. He sees the engagement announcement on Facebook, browsing on his phone between drills, and likes the post. It’s the third year he’s been away, and he’s at TOPGUN by then, so he has a lot on his mind. He has a girlfriend, even, a local: cute as a button, beats him savagely at pool.

It doesn’t fully hit him until the first time he sees you with your then-fiancé, at a little holiday reunion of college friends. He sees you with that ring on your finger, another man’s arm around your shoulders, and he gets an acute sense of the alternate reality that could’ve been his.

It feels a little like losing altitude too fast.

Your initial reception of him is understandably frosty, but you seem too genuinely happy to hold a grudge. By the third round, when he sidles up to you at the bar, you give him a quick hug, looking up at him with a smile that squeezes his heart: “I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak, and pulls you back in, just for a moment, tucking your head under his chin. You smell like apple and magnolia, like nights spent with his nose pressed into your back.

You don’t invite him to the wedding, and he’s all too glad not to have to make up an excuse not to go.

* * *

Things settle, after that. Jake gets deployed and reassigned, breaks up with his girlfriend and eventually gets another. You get promoted to senior engineer, then project lead. You see each other, not every year but close enough, sometimes with your husband there, sometimes without.

He braces himself for the next Facebook post; that you’re pregnant, but it never comes. Over time, even that seems to lose some of its potential emotional impact on him.

Until three weeks ago, when you don’t text him back.

* * *

2022

You kick your shoes off in the entryway, then head into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Before you can reach the tap, the doorbell rings, and for a second you think somehow, some way, your terrible Bumble date has followed you home.

Grabbing the biggest kitchen knife you own off the magnet strip over the sink, just in case, you creep back to the door, barefoot, to press your face up to the peephole.

You don’t really expect to see the guy you just left, the ice in your glass not even melted before you were thinking up excuses to get out of there, but you sure as fuck don’t expect to see Jake either.

The door feels heavier than usual as you slowly slide it open, or maybe you’re just a little stunned. The night air hits your skin, and you can make out the sound of dogs barking in the distance.

For a long moment, Jake just looks at you, but then he says: “What were you planning on doing with that, sweetheart?”

You follow the jut of his chin down the line of your arm, and contemplate the knife for a second, Jake’s sudden appearance having made you forget all about it.

“I thought someone might have followed me here.”

“Ah.” He says, a spark in his eyes, clearly suppressing a smile. “If you were going to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat, a knife is a terrible choice. I could give you some tips, though.”

Putting the damn thing down on your entryway console, you turn back to look at him. It’s not cold, exactly, in December in South Central Austin, but he looks underdressed: a long-sleeved light grey t-shirt, hands shoved in the pockets of a faded pair of jeans.

He looks good, you can’t deny it: he’s always had an immediate effect on you.

Jake, your somewhat gangly, sweet college boyfriend had it. Jake, ten years of military training later: older, filled out, fine crinkly lines starting to appear at the corners of his eyes (helped along by the California sun and God knows what far-off places), irrevocably still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

At that, his expression sobers, and he looks at you for a long moment before he says:

“You didn’t tell me.”

* * *

Fucking Sandeep, you think, rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes, because that fucker has not been subtle with the hints lately, tutting like a Victorian matron while you pass the time evaluating your Bumble matches with his husband during Monday night football’s ad breaks.

The granite of your kitchen countertop feels reassuringly cool beneath your thighs, and you take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the tile below:

“I wasn’t ready.”

Jake huffs, or so you assume by the little sound that escapes him, as you determinedly face only his sneakers: “It’s been a year. You sure told everyone else we know.”

That makes your head snap up, emotion rising in your chest in a way you don’t like, have always had to tamp down when it comes to him, these last ten years. “Fuck off, Jake. You know it’s different when it comes to you.”

He leans back against the fridge, arms folded, just slightly lifting his right eyebrow at you in that irritating way of his: “I could’ve been there for you.”

Fuck it, you think, all cards on the table then. “I was heartbroken, and embarrassed, and trying to figure out how to exist on my own again after being married for five years to someone who didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was, Jake. Sorry my first impulse wasn’t to come cry on my hometown hero ex-boyfriend’s shoulder.”

His eyes soften, and he pushes off the fridge to come stand next to you, running his fingers over the edge of the countertop. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter than a moment ago. “I’m being a dick. It’s just, you have to know, I would’ve been there for you.”

He pauses for a second, takes a deep breath: “It’s always been different when it comes to you too, sweetheart.”

You start to shake, a little, or maybe it’s your imagination. But your voice wavers as you say his name, everything about your tone a warning: “Jake.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head: “Our timing sucked, and I don’t regret our decision from back then. I’m proud of who I’ve become in the last ten years, and I’m proud of you. You think I don’t keep up with what you’re doing? The articles you’ve published?”

This stuns you, momentarily. “No, Jake Seresin. If I’m completely honest, I didn’t think you gave a shit about the latest advances in Texas drought management.”

Just being near him, the familiar smell of him bringing up memories you’ve had years to unsuccessfully repress, is overpowering.

He makes it worse by turning to you, face so goddamn heartbreakingly earnest as he says: “I couldn’t give you what you deserved, ten years ago, but I always told myself, if I was ever in a position to…” He swallows. “I tried to forget about it when you got married, I tried to root for you and Brett, I swear.”

His hand settles next to your thigh, not quite touching, and your hand comes down on its own accord to cover his. He straightens almost imperceptibly, uses his other palm to wipe a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

Cupping your face, he draws a deep breath. “I have a permanent assignment now, in San Diego. I know it’s…”

“Jake.” You interrupt, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I’m not remotely the same person I was back then.”

He moves to stand in front of you now, and you draw him in between your thighs. Suddenly it seems imperative that you feel him, that he holds you.

Dipping his head to yours, you can hear the smile in his voice, watery, tentative: “Then let me get to know you again. Get to know me again.” He leans one hand on the counter, the other tracing your cheekbone. “No pressure. I’m totally very cool about this. Whatever you want.”

You laugh, a little choked up through tears, but genuine. It feels liberating. “What if I say yes? How does this work?”

His smile broadens, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he’s so goddamn close, nudging your nose with his. “Come visit me, for a start. I’ll show you the sights.”

You draw him in a little closer still, legs wrapping around his waist, one hand finding its way into his close-cropped hair, and you could cry for how familiar he still feels after all these years.

But when you close the gap between your lips and his, it’s like coming home and yet not at all: he’s different and rougher and sharper and it floods you with emotion, something big and terrifying and old and new.

He leans into the kiss, grinning, cards his fingers through your hair before he moves to cover your chin, your brow, the space next to your ear with kisses, and you remember this with a jolt to your heart – how singularly intense it is to be the focus of Jake Seresin, like the strength of the sun is aimed at you, how he never does anything by halves.

You take his chin in your hand, kiss him again for good measure, before saying, into the stubble of his jaw: “One visit. No pressure.”

The grin he gives you in return could power half this city: “One visit. No pressure.”

He dips his head to yours again, kissing the skin behind your ear as he tells you: “Southern California has a lot of drought problems, you know. I’ve actually been reading some really scary articles about it.”

i hope you enjoyed :):) - if you liked this I hope you’ll check out some of my other work:

where the wild things are (rooster x reader)

cross my heart (hangman x reader) masterlist

#tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun maverick fic #why am i like this i stg

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metalandmagi · 11 months ago

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A list of underrated Christmas movies for everyone who is getting tired of watching the same things every year:

This year, I wanted to make a list of a few Christmas movies that I feel are a bit underrated and under-appreciated, because I’m tired of seeing the same things all the time. If anyone has any suggestions for their own lesser known holiday movies, please feel free to include them!

Arthur Christmas: An animated movie that should be a classic, but it was unfortunately lost to time because it had a horrible marketing campaign that made it look like complete shit. Well, I’m here to tell you that it’s not complete shit. It’s actually fucking amazing.

Arthur, the clumsy son of the current Santa Claus is known for being a lovable idiot who tends to ruin everything he touches, but when a little girl’s present is accidentally left behind one Christmas, Arthur, an elf named Bryony, and his grandfather (a previous Santa…so grandsanta) embark on a chaotic mission around the world to deliver the missing present. Every character in this movie is so fucking funny and empathetic at the same time. Arthur embodies the true meaning of Christmas in everything he does. Bryony is just…on another level entirely. Arthur’s brother Steve (a strategic genius who wants to use his new technology to ensure his place as the next Santa) is a perfect antagonist that the audience still feels sympathy for. They all just have such a fun dynamic, and it’s a crime that more people haven’t seen this.

Spirited: A fairly new addition to the Christmas movie ranks, since it came out in 2022 (but it was on AppleTV+ so no one watched it). Spirited is a modern, musical version of A Christmas Carol like you’ve never seen before (starring Will Ferrell and Ryan Reynolds, who are an amazing combination in anything). If you’re tired of seeing endless retellings of Dickens' story, just watch this. It’s hilarious, heartfelt, and it brings a whole new perspective to the story in a way that I’m not going to spoil. And the songs go so hard it’s insane.

Happiest Season: A rom-com in which a woman named Abby desperately wants to propose to her girlfriend Harper over the holidays during Harper’s family Christmas party…only to realize that Harper’s extremely rich and conservative family doesn’t know she’s gay. Fun rom-com shenanigans ensue. Did I mention Abby is played by Kristen Stewart, and Harper is played by Mackenzie Davis? Also Aubrey Plaza, Alison Brie, and that guy from Schitt’s Creek everyone loves are in it.

This could easily have been a completely different movie if the cast wasn't so funny and didn’t have such good chemistry. It starts out as a standard holiday rom-com, but I was tearing up by the end of this the first time I watched it. If you’ve ever felt like you’ve been hiding your true self from your family or if you’ve felt like you’ve never been good enough for them, I think you’ll see a lot to relate to in this.

Violent Night: Another new addition to the ever-expanding list of Christmas movies, this aptly named action thriller also came out in 2022, and I feel like no one has spoken about it since, which is a crime because IT WAS SO MUCH FUCKING FUN!

When a grizzled, down on the world Santa (played by David Harbour) gets stuck in a rich family’s house while it’s being overrun by mercenaries, he has to Die Hard his way out and save the hostages (or at least the ones who are worth saving) before it’s too late. This was such a fun surprise, because violent action thrillers are so hit and miss for me personally. David Harbour is great. It’s just under 2 hours of watching shitty people get their comeuppance in unique ways. I’m so offended that it only has a 6.7/10 on IMDB, because this is a great movie to watch with a group of friends and some age appropriate beverages. Yeah, it’s not a masterpiece, and maybe my standards are low, but I had a great time with this.

Tokyo Godfathers: An anime Christmas classic directed by Satoshi Kon in which 3 homeless people (a former drag queen, a runaway teen, and a grumpy alcoholic) find a baby in a dumpster and try to reunite it with its family. This was the movie that tricked me into thinking Satoshi Kon’s other works would be just as comedic and wholesome as this one. It’s got humor. It’s got heart. It’s got twists and turns that will keep you guessing in the classic Satoshi Kon fashion. And the English dub is just as good as the sub, so you can’t go wrong either way.

Neo Yokio- Pink Christmas: Speaking of anime…I’ve talked about this one before, but I have to mention it again because it’s a staple for me every year. Pink Christmas is the Christmas special for the…anime (and I use that word in the loosest way possible) Neo Yokio…aka the one starring (and possibly made by?) Jaden Smith.

For anyone who’s never heard of it, Neo Yokio is a series on Netflix that is the closest thing to a professionally made Abridged Series we’ll ever have. The “plot” of the series revolves around Kaz, a pink haired guy who fights demons and does increasingly absurd rich people things with his robot mecha butler named Charles. The Christmas special involves Charles telling Kaz a Christmas story about the city’s Secret Santa competition for all the ultra rich people.

Look, there’s no good way to describe this one, but trust me when I say you don’t have to watch Neo Yokio to understand it, since even people who do watch Neo Yokio don’t understand it. In fact, I think it will be even funnier if you don’t watch Neo Yokio at all before watching Pink Christmas (but I encourage everyone to watch the series too, just because it’s more of the same insanity.)

Every line in it is pure comedic gold, not because it’s truly funny, but because it’s absurd and ridiculous in a way only Jaden Smith can be. I quote it incessantly while eating a Toblerone every year.

Cabin Pressure at Christmas: Molokai: Okay, it’s not a movie or even a TV special, but I love Cabin Pressure so much that I had to include this too. Cabin Pressure is a comedy radio show (not a podcast, an actual radio show) that aired on BBC Radio 4 in the early 2000s about an airline crew for the world’s shittiest airplane.

For anyone who watched season 2 of Good Omens, you might recognize the name John Finnemore as one of the writers. Well, Cabin Pressure is made by (and stars) the same person. The Christmas episode is one of my favorites of the series, and you 100% don’t need to listen to the entire series to enjoy it. It captures the humor and despair of being stuck with your co-workers on Christmas eve, but it keeps up the spirit regardless. This is another one I quote incessantly, and the whole show has become hardwired into my personality. PLEASE FIND A WAY TO LISTEN TO CABIN PRESSURE! I’m pretty sure the whole series is available on iTunes as an audiobook.

As honorable mentions, I want to include Rise of the Guardians and Klaus, because even though they have a fair amount of popularity, I still feel like people could appreciate them more. And sure, Rise of the Guardians might be more of an Easter movie, but it still includes Santa as a character, and he’s amazing.

That's all for now. Sorry these are all specifically Christmas themed, but if anyone has movie suggestions for other winter holidays, please throw them in!

#christmas movies #spirited #tokyo godfathers #arthur christmas #happiest season #violent night #neo yokio pink christmas #neo yokio #cabin pressure

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oceandolores · 17 days ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 18

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"He's cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed,"

summary: you spent the days with negan

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 18

masterlist!

previous | chapter 17

next | chapter 19

You’ve lost track of time. Days? Weeks? Maybe months? The lines between each are blurred into a gray, endless fog. It feels like a lifetime, every moment dragging in this hell, locked away in a basement where time itself has abandoned you. No sunlight. No air. No life.

Your skin has become paper-thin, ghostly pale, your hair longer now, wild and unkempt, hanging like threads of darkness around your face.

You can barely recognize yourself anymore. Who are you now? A hollow shell of the girl who once laughed under the Texas sun, free, warm, loved.

But now—now you are something else entirely. Your body bears the marks of your captivity—bruises, cuts, reminders of Negan’s rage.

Your muscles ache, protesting every movement as you sit huddled in a corner, shivering in the same clothes he left you with, now ragged and clinging to your bones.

You try to hold onto Joel's face in your mind, but it’s becoming harder. The image of him is fading like the light you once knew. You wonder if he's okay.

Is he searching for you? Does he even know where you are? The thought of him keeps you breathing, keeps your heart beating through the endless fear.

You imagine him finding you—saving you. His arms wrapping around you, holding you close, whispering that it's all over, that you’re safe again. But all you have are those thoughts, like distant stars barely visible in a night sky choked with clouds.

Here, there’s nothing but the endless cold concrete, the bucket in the corner, and the faint, rotting smell that clings to the air. You barely register it anymore.

You’ve learned to survive in this dark corner of hell, learned to please the man who holds your life in his hands. Negan. The name makes your skin crawl.

He took you, stole you away from everything, ripped your life apart. And for what? You still don’t understand why. Why you?

Negan comes every morning. At first, you refused to eat, refused to give him the satisfaction, but after the first time he beat you—after the sharp sting of his fist connecting with your ribs and the choking terror of his threats—you learned to obey.

Now, you force yourself to eat, to keep your body moving, even when you want to crawl into a dark hole and disappear forever. Survival. It’s the only thing left.

Sometimes, he’s sweet, too sweet, sickly almost, like a poisoned lullaby. He’ll apologize, say he didn’t mean it, that he only gets angry when you don’t listen.

Negan strokes your hair, his fingers weaving through the tangled strands, the sickly sweetness in his voice every time he speak to you sending chills down your spine.

You’ve learned to obey, to keep your head down, to be the good girl he expects—because when you’re not, when you step out of line, he turns into something else.

A storm, violent and unpredictable, his fists crashing down like thunder, his words sharp as lightning. The bruises on your skin, purpling and yellowing, are the remnants of his rage, each one a testament to how dangerous he can be.

And yet, beneath the horror, it feels hauntingly familiar. The blows, the threats, the control—it all pulls you back, back to a place you thought you’d escaped. Your father.

His memory clings to you, like a shadow that stretches across your life, refusing to fade. Even though he's dead, you can still feel him—his presence, his hands, his cruelty.

It's as if his spirit never really left, lingering in the dark corners of your mind, waiting to reemerge. You thought you were free of him, free of the suffocating grip he had on your life, but here, with Negan, it’s like you're back in his grasp all over again.

The abuse, the beatings—it’s the same cycle, a vicious loop that you can never seem to break.

You feel his hands around your neck, the phantom pressure tightening like a noose, choking the air from your lungs. He’s gone—dead and buried—but his grip remains. He’s still with you in every bruise, every whispered threat, every moment of fear.

He never truly left.

No matter how hard you try to forget him, to sever yourself from the past, he clings to you like a shadow, a ghost that refuses to leave. Your father—his voice is always there, whispering in the back of your mind, telling you that you are never enough, that you will never be free.

Even now, trapped in this basement, his presence lingers, as if he’s still wrapping his hands around your throat, suffocating you with the weight of his expectations and his violence.

You try to push him away, but it’s like he’s sewn into your skin, a part of you that you can never shed.

At night, the screams from above pierce the silence, wrenching you from whatever restless sleep you’ve fallen into. They are horrible, gut-wrenching screams—women’s screams.

The kind that seem to come from the deepest, most primal part of a person, like their very souls are being torn apart. You try not to think about what’s happening up there, but the screams fill the air, bouncing off the cold, damp concrete walls, wrapping around you like a suffocating fog.

And then there’s the sound that follows—the roar of a chainsaw tearing through the air, a sound so brutal, it feels like it’s cutting through the world itself.

After that? Nothing. Silence so deep, it presses on your chest, and you wonder what horrors have just been erased from existence.

You don’t ask him about it. You’re too afraid of what he might say. Too afraid of the truth.

But the stench in the air the next morning tells you everything you need to know. That thick, metallic odor of rot and iron—it settles in your throat, clinging to you, reminding you of the evil that lives in this house.

You know there is something sinister about Negan. You can feel it in your bones, hide under the smile and the words. You’ve always known.

And yet all you can do is pray. Pray that God will protect you, that somehow you will be spared from whatever horrors unfold above you.

When morning comes, Negan greets you like nothing has happened. He walks in with a grin stretched across his face, carrying breakfast like he’s done a hundred times before. His mood is light, almost cheerful, as if the darkness of the night doesn’t touch him.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me lately,” he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction, and it makes your skin crawl. But what choice do you have? He’s too strong. You’re too scared.

Survival means keeping him happy, following his rules, doing what he says, no matter how much it tears at your soul. So you nod and force yourself to smile, even though it feels like your face is cracking apart.

“I got something for you,” he says, and his hand slips into his pocket. For a second, your heart lurches with fear—you don’t know what he’ll pull out. But then, he shows it to you. A pen. And a small notebook.

“This’ll be good for you,” Negan says, placing them in front of you like a gift. “Thought maybe you could write. Draw. Whatever. Something to keep you sane down here.”

Sane. The word feels bitter on your tongue. Like it’s even possible to stay sane in this nightmare.

But you stare at the notebook, feeling its weight in your hands, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, a flicker of something stirs inside you. The pen feels strange between your fingers, foreign, like you’ve forgotten how to even hold it.

You open the notebook, and the blank pages stretch out before you like a vast, empty desert—an expanse of nothingness that almost makes you dizzy. What could you even write? What words could you find to capture the hell you’re living?

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the blankness is the only thing left that’s yours. Everything else has been taken from you—your freedom, your dignity, your body. But these pages, for now, are untouched. Clean. Yours to fill, if only for a moment.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, your voice barely more than a breath. Negan smiled, satisfied with your obedience, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. You flinched—just a little, barely noticeable—but he ignored it.

"Now I have some business to take care of," he said, his voice low and commanding. "You behave. Do not do anything you'll regret okay? Can you be a good girl for me again?"

You nodded, your throat tightening as you forced yourself to meet his eyes.

“Good fucking girl,” he said with a grin, the words dripping with his twisted affection. "I won’t be long," he added, standing up from the mattress, his heavy boots echoing across the floor as he walked to the door.

The sound of the basement door closing was like a tomb sealing shut, the click of multiple locks slotting into place one after another, leaving you buried in silence.

The notebook.

It became your only refuge after that, the one place where your mind could escape the prison of this basement. You wrote. You wrote endlessly, pouring your thoughts, your fears, your pain onto the pages like you were trying to bleed them out.

Every word, every line felt like a lifeline, as if the ink could tether you to some version of yourself that still existed somewhere beyond these walls.

You wrote to him.

Joel.

It felt like talking to him, like he was sitting beside you, like you could feel the warmth of his arm brushing against yours, steady and grounding.

You imagined his low voice, whispering comfort, his hand reaching out to hold yours, and for a moment, it felt real. But Joel wasn’t here. He wasn’t anywhere, and that truth was a cold, jagged edge cutting into your heart.

You missed him so much it ached, a raw pain that twisted inside you, relentless, like a knife lodged deep in your chest, twisting with every breath.

"Joel, please. I miss you. I miss you so much." The words scratched at the paper, desperate, spilling from your soul like a confession. You wrote as if your words could reach him, as if somehow the ink would find its way to him across the miles, across the darkness.

Ever since Joel saved you, pulled you from the wreckage of your old life, you clung to him like a lifeline. He was all you had, the only person you trusted, the only one who truly saw you. You were so dependent on him, as if the moment he stepped out of your sight, the ground beneath you would crack open and swallow you whole.

Without him, you were scared—terrified, really. Scared of the dark, of the silence, of the things Negan might do when he came back. But mostly, you were scared of how alone you felt without Joel. It was a loneliness that burrowed deep into your bones, sinking in like ice.

You wrote everything down, pouring your heart onto the page, as if the words would somehow keep you sane. The notebook became your only friend, your only lifeline.

Each stroke of the pen felt like a small rebellion, a way to remember who you were before this. You wrote about Joel—the way he used to look at you, his touch, his laugh. The life you had together. You wrote about the nights spent on the road, just the two of you, moving from town to town, motels, dusty highways, sunsets that belonged only to you both.

Those memories were sacred, and they felt so far away now, so unreachable. The thought of never feeling that freedom again—of never hearing his voice or feeling his hand in yours—crushed you.

You would give anything to go back, to be on the road with him again, just the two of you, against the world.

Every night, after you wrote, the tears came. Silent, aching sobs that wracked your body, shaking you to your core. You prayed through the tears, but even your prayers felt hollow, slipping into the void.

Negan had taken your Bible, the one Frank had given you, and without it, you felt like a part of you was missing. You couldn’t open its pages and find the comfort you once had.

Now, you prayed in the darkness, with nothing but your tears and your fear to keep you company.

"God, please, if You’re there, save him. Save Joel. Forgive him for whatever he’s done to protect me, to protect those he loves. Please… don’t let anything happen to him. Save him for me. I need him. I need him so much."

And then, through your prayers, in this place, in this basement that smells of damp stone and decay, you mourn them.

Your father and your mother.

But it isn’t just because they were your parents, or because you share the same blood running through your veins—no, it’s something deeper. You mourn what they became.

You mourn the lives they could have lived, the people they could have been if they hadn’t turned into things they were.

You mourn for the little boy your father once was, before life hardened him, before the world broke him into the man who used his fists instead of his words.

Somewhere, deep in the maze of your memories, you imagine him as a child—wide-eyed and innocent, before anger festered in his heart. A boy who might have been gentle once, kind even, before the weight of his own father’s hand crushed whatever light was in him.

You mourn for him because no child dreams of becoming the kind of man he did. No little boy dreams of being a tyrant in his own home.

And your mother—oh, you mourn her too. The little girl she once was, soft and full of hope, long before she learned to bend under the weight of your father’s cruelty.

You can almost see her, a girl with ribbons in her hair, laughing at some long-forgotten joy. But somewhere along the way, life taught her obedience.

It taught her that silence was safer than rebellion, that turning the other cheek meant survival. You mourn for the girl she used to be, the girl who lost her voice and her strength long before you ever knew her.

Some people are not meant to be parents.

That truth settles over you like a heavy, unshakable fog. Your father and mother—they were never meant to raise a child. They were broken long before you came into their lives, shattered pieces trying to fit into the roles they were handed.

They thought if they could survive the same cruelty from their parents, then you could too. They thought they were preparing you for a harsh world, just as they had been prepared, passing down the same legacy of pain and survival.

But some legacies are not meant to be carried.

Some cycles are meant to be broken.

And you—you never had a choice. The cruelest thing about childhood is that we cannot choose our parents.

We are born into the hands that hold us, for better or worse, and we carry their shadows long after we’ve escaped their grasp. You mourn not only for them but for yourself too.

For the little girl you were supposed to be, the happy child you never got the chance to become. The girl who should have danced in the sunlight instead of cowering in the dark.

The child who should have known love, who should have felt safe.

Your childhood died alongside them. Maybe not in the physical sense, but in spirit. It died when the first bruise bloomed on your skin, when the first cruel word cut deeper than any blade could.

You grieve for the girl who once dreamed of a family that didn’t hurt her, a girl who imagined a father’s arms as a place of safety, not violence.

You mourn her because she never had a chance. That girl, that innocence, was lost long ago, buried beneath years of fear and shame.

You feel it now—the weight of all that loss, all that mourning. It presses down on your chest, as heavy as the darkness around you. You mourn for them, for their broken childhoods, for what they became.

But mostly, you mourn for yourself. For the life you might have had, if only you had been born into different hands. Hands that didn’t hurt. Hands that didn’t break.

***

That night, after hours of scribbling your heart onto the pages, exhaustion pulled you into a restless sleep. The dream came slowly at first, like an old memory resurfacing, soft and warm. You were no longer trapped in the basement.

No, you were outside—underneath a sky full of stars, the air cool and fragrant like summer nights back when things were simple. And then, you saw him—Joel, standing in the distance, his silhouette familiar, strong, safe.

"Joel?" you whispered, your voice barely a breath, but he heard you. His head turned, and his eyes found yours, dark and full of something you hadn’t seen in so long. Hope.

You ran toward him, your feet barely touching the ground, heart pounding, tears springing to your eyes. He was here—he was really here. His arms opened just as you reached him, and you collapsed into his chest, your body trembling as he held you tight. You breathed him in, his scent, his warmth—everything you had missed. You clung to him, as if letting go meant losing him all over again.

"I found you, baby girl," Joel’s voice was a low, comforting rumble in your ear. "I told you I’d find you. I’m never leaving you again. Never."

Tears streamed down your face, your sobs muffled against his chest. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but hold him and feel the solidness of him, real and alive in your arms. The relief was overwhelming, like a weight lifting off your chest, letting you breathe again.

But then, something shifted. The warmth of his body faded, the stars overhead dimming, and suddenly, you were back in the basement. The air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat. You blinked, confused, trying to hold onto the warmth of Joel’s presence, but he wasn’t holding you anymore. He was on the floor, crumpled in front of you.

"No…" You whispered, shaking your head. "No, no, no…"

Joel lay motionless, blood pooling beneath his head, dripping from the corner of his mouth, his eyes closed, his face pale. "Joel!" Your scream tore through the room, your voice raw and desperate. "Get up! Please get up!"

You tried to move, tried to reach him, but your arms were bound behind your back, your body pressed against the cold concrete floor, facedown. You squirmed, panic rising in your chest like a tidal wave. The ropes bit into your wrists, leaving your skin raw, but you didn’t care. All you could see was Joel—lifeless, covered in blood.

"Joel! Please, get up!" you screamed again, your throat burning, but he didn’t move. He didn’t stir.

Through the blur of your tears, you saw him—Negan. He was standing over Joel, his face twisted into a cruel smile, his barbed-wire-covered baseball bat dripping with blood. Your heart lurched as Negan lifted the bat again, bringing it down with a sickening thud against Joel’s skull.

"Stop! Please, stop!" you begged, your voice breaking, tears streaming down your face. You cried and screamed until your voice gave out, until all that was left was a hoarse whisper. "Stop… please…"

But he didn’t stop. He kept swinging, over and over, each hit more brutal than the last. Joel’s body jerked with each blow, but he never opened his eyes. He was gone.

"JOEL!" You screamed one last time, your heart shattering in your chest as the world spun around you. Everything blurred—Joel’s lifeless body, Negan’s twisted grin, the blood, the bat, the horror of it all.

And then, just as suddenly, you woke up.

Gasping for breath, your chest heaving as you shot upright. Your heart pounded in your ears, your skin slick with cold sweat. It took you a moment to realize it was just a dream, just another nightmare. But it felt so real, so vivid, that for a moment, you couldn’t shake the image of Joel’s broken body from your mind.

You buried your face in your hands, trying to breathe, trying to calm the panic surging through you. The tears came again, hot and relentless, and you sobbed quietly, rocking yourself in the darkness.

"It was just a dream," you whispered, trying to convince yourself. But the fear was real. The pain was real. The helplessness of watching him die again and again—that was real.

Just as you were trying to steady yourself, trying to pull yourself back into the present, a voice cut through the silence.

"‘I miss you so much, Joel,’" Negan’s voice echoed in the darkness, cold and mocking. "'I pray for you every night. Please save me.'”

Your heart stopped. You turned slowly, the horror creeping back into your veins as you saw him—Negan, sitting at the edge of the room, your notebook in his hands. He was reading your words, your letters to Joel, the deepest parts of your soul, laid bare and exposed.

"I gotta say," he smirked, eyes glinting with something dark, "you really are somethin’ special, huh? Writing all these sweet nothings to your precious Joel. Too bad he ain't comin'."

Negan’s smirk widened as he caught the fear in your eyes, his steps deliberate as he approached you. You sat up quickly, your body instinctively recoiling from him as he lowered himself to the edge of the worn mattress. The small space between you felt suffocating. His presence swallowed the room, and your skin prickled, every nerve on high alert.

"What are you doing here?" Your voice came out shaky, a whisper laced with desperation.

Negan chuckled darkly, his gaze locking onto yours with a smug, possessive gleam. “Just checkin’ on you, doll,” he mocked, his tone syrupy and insincere, like the words themselves were dripping venom.

You could feel the tension coil in your stomach, your hands gripping the thin sheet as if it could somehow protect you. Negan’s chuckle echoed in the small space, and you saw something shift in his expression.

"You keep callin' for him," he said, his voice lower now, laced with a quiet fury. “In your sleep, you know that? You call his name. Joel.” The name left his lips like a curse, venomous and heavy.

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as the weight of his words sank in.

"You keep thinkin' about another man, callin’ for him when you’re supposed to be mine,” Negan’s voice dripped with malice, and his eyes gleamed as he leaned closer, brushing his fingers lightly against your leg. You flinched instantly, your body recoiling at the touch, trembling.

"I don’t want what’s mine calling for someone else,” he whispered, his fingers tracing your skin in slow, taunting circles. You fought the urge to pull away, your body frozen in place, fear anchoring you.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing so fast it felt like it would leap out of your chest. Your mind scrambled for a way out, for something to say, but all you could feel was the dread crawling up your spine.

"I got you something,” he finally said, breaking the suffocating silence, his voice slick and dangerous. You blinked at him, confused, but too scared to respond.

He stood up, walking toward the door, leaving it wide open for just a moment. The fresh air from outside rushed in, cool against your skin. Your heart pounded in your ears as you stared at the open door, your mind racing. Could you run? Could you grab something—anything—and fight back? But the fear was paralyzing, locking your muscles, chaining your thoughts. You wanted to be brave, to fight, but all you could feel was the weight of his presence suffocating you.

Before you could think any further, Negan returned, the door shutting with a heavy thud that echoed in your chest. He held a package, neatly wrapped, and sat down beside you again, closer this time.

"Here," he said, handing it to you with a twisted grin. “Go on, open it. You finished your breakfast like a good girl.”

You hesitated, eyes darting from the package to his face, trying to gauge his intentions, but there was nothing but malice in his expression. Slowly, you took it, your fingers trembling as you peeled away the wrapping.

Inside, folded carefully, was a dress—a nightgown, white and beautiful, but as your fingers brushed the fabric, you realized how thin it was. Too thin. The kind that clung to every curve, every inch of skin visible underneath. The kind of dress meant to be seen.

Your throat tightened as the realization hit you. This wasn’t a gift. It was a trap.

"Now what do you say?" Negan's voice cut through your thoughts, sharp and expectant.

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat, forcing the words past your lips. “Thank you,” you whispered, hating the sound of your own voice, hating the way you had to play along.

Negan’s grin widened, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. “Good girl.”

Then, he leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours. “Now try it on,” he said, his tone casual, but there was a sinister edge to his voice.

You blinked, confused for a moment, before standing slowly, clutching the nightgown tightly to your chest. You moved toward the large wardrobe at the corner of the room, trying to hide behind it, but his voice stopped you cold.

"Where do you think you’re going?" Negan asked, his voice dripping with amusement. You turned back to face him, your heart sinking.

"To try it on," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

Negan’s eyes darkened as he shifted on the mattress, half reclining now, one arm propped lazily behind his head. His grin grew wider, more dangerous. “I said try it here... in front of me.”

Your blood ran cold. The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing tighter, suffocating you. You stood frozen, unable to comprehend what he was asking. What? you thought, your mind reeling, but you didn’t dare say it.

"You heard me," Negan said, his voice now edged with impatience, more of a threat than a request. “Try it here. Now.”

Your legs felt like they were made of lead as you took slow, reluctant steps back toward him, your hands trembling as you clutched the nightgown tighter to your chest. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your skin prickling with fear.

You moved to put the dress over your clothes, thinking maybe that would satisfy him. Maybe he would let you off this time.

But before you could pull it over your head, Negan’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

"What are you, fucking stupid?" he snapped, his tone sharp and cutting. “I said take off your clothes.”

The room spun. You felt like the floor had disappeared beneath you, the world crumbling away as the full weight of what he was asking—what he wanted—settled in your bones. You froze, your fingers clutching the fabric so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

"Don't make me say it again," he said, his voice low and commanding. The authority in his tone left no room for defiance. With a shaky nod, you surrendered to his demand, peeling off the clothes you’d worn for what felt like an eternity.

They were stained and tattered, memories of the darkness that had become your life. The cool air of the basement brushed against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his predatory gaze.

As you stood there in just your underwear, the vulnerability wrapped around you like a heavy cloak. "All of it," he commanded again, his eyes narrowing as he observed your hesitation.

You felt the tremors in your hands as you slowly removed your last layer, exposing your skin to him, a mix of fear and a desperate need to please overwhelming your senses.

Tears trickled down your cheeks, silent witnesses to the turmoil inside you. You turned away, unable to bear his hungry gaze as you slipped into the dress, its fabric a soft caress against your bare skin, but it was far too revealing, too intimate. This is basically lingerie, you thought, your heart racing as he took in your form.

“Such a beautiful little thing,” he purred, a twisted smile spreading across his face. “Now spin around for me. Let me see all of it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic drumbeat as you turned slowly, the weight of his gaze burning into you.

The dress clung to you, exposing more than it concealed. “All of this is mine,” he said, stepping closer, the words dripping with ownership.

You froze as he closed the distance, his hands trailing down your body, a feather-light touch that sent shivers coursing through you. He brushed away the tears on your cheeks with the pad of his thumb, the juxtaposition of tenderness and menace leaving you paralyzed.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His breath was warm against your neck, a stark reminder of the power he held over you. “You don’t like the gift?”

You couldn’t respond, fear stealing your voice. Instead, you stood still, feeling small under his scrutiny. He stepped behind you, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body, wrapping around you like a vice.

“Why do you want that man when you have me here, hm?” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed gentle kisses to your neck, each one igniting a storm of emotions within you. “I can treat you better than him.”

Your heart ached, caught in a vice between longing and despair. The tears continued to fall, and you closed your eyes, allowing the warmth of his presence to envelop you, even as his actions sent icy dread through your veins.

You wanted to scream, to fight back against the helplessness swirling around you, but you were trapped in this moment, bound by fear. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to break free, the weight of it all pressing down on you, suffocating you.

His lips traced the sensitive skin of your neck, and every gentle caress turned into a reminder of the man you longed for—Joel. It was as if his presence was woven into your very essence, and now, here you were, lost in a nightmare that seemed to stretch endlessly.

With each passing second, you felt a chasm grow between your heart and your body, a space filled with fear and longing that you couldn't bridge.

When his fingers brushed against your breast, you flinched, instinctively moving away, but he followed with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, he looked at you like a storm brewing, full of anger and hurt. "What's wrong, hm? You don't want me?" The accusation in his voice stung like a whip, and your heart raced with a mix of dread and sorrow.

You shook your head, but he continued to advance, anger simmering beneath his skin. "Is that how you treat someone acting nice to you?" The slap was sudden, shocking, and it sent you crashing to the mattress. "Ungrateful bitch." The words cut deeper than the physical pain, sinking into your soul and planting seeds of doubt.

As you lay there, you felt your spirit fracture beneath the weight of his anger. You missed Joel’s strong arms, his gentle smile, the safety he once offered. Now, all you could feel was this relentless dread creeping in, wrapping around your throat, tightening with every ragged breath.

"Do you miss him? Or do you miss a dick, hm, little whore?" The cruel words hung in the air, a poisonous cloud that filled your lungs with despair. You shook your head, tears streaming down your face, each drop a silent plea for deliverance from this torment. "No, please... no."

But he didn’t hear your cries. Instead, the cool steel of his belt gripped your wrists, binding you in a way that made the world tilt beneath you. Your heart raced, pounding against your chest like a caged bird desperate to escape, a tempest of emotions swirling inside you.

“No, no, please,” you whispered, desperation clawing at your throat as Negan tightened the belt around your wrists, a cruel mockery of security. Each pull sent a shiver down your spine, not from cold but from the weight of what was to come.

When you screamed, the sound was swallowed by the suffocating silence of the room. A sharp pain flared across your cheek as his hand connected, the sting grounding you momentarily in the chaos.

Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of anger and helplessness flooding your senses. You could feel the fabric of your dress riding up as he unbuckled his jeans, the movement surreal against the horror unfolding.

“Stop! Please, don’t do this!” Your pleas felt like whispers lost in the wind, but they carried the weight of a thousand unspoken fears. You were trapped in this moment, suspended between defiance and despair, fighting against the reality that loomed over you.

“I can’t believe I haven’t tried you for this long,” he sneered, his words slicing through the air like a knife. “God, you must be special for that man to keep you for himself and took you away.” Each syllable was a taunt, a reminder of the love you held for another, twisted into a weapon against you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he continued, his voice dripping with a sickening sweetness that made your skin crawl. “It will feel so much better than what that boy did.” The implication hung heavy in the air, suffocating. You were drowning in memories and fear, lost in a storm that threatened to pull you under.

The sharpness of his voice echoed in your mind, and your heart sank. He knew. He knew about Jamie, the scars etched deep within you, and the thought of it sent a fresh wave of nausea through your gut.

"No, no, no!" you screamed

"Stop! Stop, please!" You screamed as you cry, Negan still pinned down your head, "Shut the fuck up," he said.

You can feel that He positions himself from behind, the tip of his erection brushing against your butt. "STOP! PLEASE!" you shout, tears streaming down your cheeks. Negan grins wickedly, knowing full well the effect he has on you.

He entered you fast and hard, it hurts, but even then, all you can do was just scream and cry, scream and cry, "Fuck, you're so tight!" He groaned deeply as his pace quickened, rough, it hurt you.

“Please…” you whispered, your voice barely rising above the mattress that felt like a heavy weight pressing down on you, smothering any flicker of hope.

Tears flowed freely, soaking the fabric beneath your cheek as you surrendered to the wave of despair washing over you. Each sob felt like a prayer, a desperate plea to the universe to intervene, to turn back time, to rewrite the cruel script that had ensnared you.

“Joel... please... save me,” you begged into the void, hoping him to hear you, hoping he can feel you, that you are here, you're still here waiting him to save you, again.

You need him. You crave him. His strength, his warmth, the way his presence used to make you feel safe, even in the darkest corners of your mind.

***

Days blurred into nights. Negan came to you every evening, his shadow stretching long and cold against the walls as he descended into the basement.

Each time, it was the same—he would pin you down, and did it over and over and over and over again. If you fought back, it hurt more. His fists would meet your skin, and the bruises would bloom like dying flowers under his hands. So, you stopped fighting.

You learned to stay quiet, to turn your eyes toward the window while he took what he wanted. Sometimes you watched the way the trees outside swayed gently in the night breeze, imagining that you could drift away with them, become one with the wind. The numbness crept in, slow at first, then all at once, until you felt nothing at all.

In exchange for your silence, Negan began to “reward” you. Dresses, makeup, things that seemed like tokens of his twisted version of care.

The bruises hid beneath the fabric he chose, and your reflection in the mirror looked like someone you didn’t recognize—someone who had forgotten how to fight, how to scream.

Eventually, Negan moved you to his bed. It was no longer the cold, damp basement floor; instead, it was his bed—his space. He didn’t trust you with a room of your own, of course.

That would mean freedom, something he kept locked away just as tightly as the doors around this prison of a house. It wasn’t generosity that led him to this decision; it was control. He wanted you there, beside him, each night, a reminder that you belonged to him.

And he wanted you to believe it too.

Every touch, every forced intimacy, was his way of branding you, of forcing you to accept his twisted version of reality. You didn’t resist anymore—not after what happened the last time.

Your body had learned to be still, to let the moments pass. Fighting back brought only more pain. And so, you existed, a hollow shell of who you once were, doing what you had to in order to survive.

The house was a labyrinth, locked and fortified in ways that made it impossible to escape. You had tried once—how stupid and naïve you had been to think Negan wouldn’t expect it. There were locks on every door, cameras watching your every move, and nowhere to hide. You had thought maybe, just maybe, you could find a way out. But before you even made it to the front door, he was there. He’d known all along, watching, waiting. The punishment was swift, brutal.

He beat you until you could barely stand. Every strike felt like a sledgehammer to your soul, breaking something deep inside that you feared would never heal. And when you begged for forgiveness through sobs and screams, he looked at you with that same twisted smile. Like he enjoyed it.

After that, you learned. You couldn’t afford to be stupid again. The house was a jail, with walls thick and doors that were locked tighter than your own hope. The CCTV cameras were everywhere, unblinking eyes that saw everything.

Negan didn’t just want control over your body; he wanted your mind too. He played this sick game, pretending you were his partner, forcing you into the role of some perfect little housewife. It was all a game to him—house, husband, wife. He wanted you to take care of him now, as if that was your purpose. As if sparing you from more pain was his twisted version of kindness.

One thing you noticed. No more screams. You hadn’t heard any since he brought you upstairs, but you could still hear them in your mind, could still feel the weight of the chains that used to bind you down there. Negan had a room at the far end of the hall, with a thick iron door, always locked.

You didn’t know what was behind it, but you could guess. Based on everything else about him, the life he lived, the things you glimpsed in passing… you knew he wasn’t just a monster in private. He had power. He had wealth. He had a darkness that ran deeper than you could fathom.

Now, you played along with his sick fantasy. You made breakfast in the mornings, your hands moving through the motions, numb and mechanical. Eggs, toast, bacon sizzling in the pan.

You folded his laundry, cleaned the house, did everything you were asked to do, all with the heavy knowledge that you needed to survive. You needed to be smart.

You cracked eggs into the pan, the familiar sizzle filling the quiet space. Bacon followed, the scent swirling through the air, but your mind was miles away.

You let your hands move on autopilot, stirring, turning, arranging, while your thoughts drifted to Joel again.

Where is he now? Does he even know I’m still alive?

You didn’t know what day it was anymore. Time had become an illusion, slipping through your fingers like sand, impossible to hold onto.

Negan’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. He entered the kitchen, and you felt him before you saw him, his presence like a looming storm cloud.

He slapped your ass as he passed by, his lips finding your neck with a kiss that sent shivers down your spine, but not in the way you wanted.

It was always wrong, always forced, always laced with something dark that you couldn’t escape.

You set the plates down on the table, your movements mechanical as you sat across from him. Negan grinned as he took a bite of the scrambled eggs, then paused, his brow furrowing in annoyance.

“Why the hell do these taste sweet? Did you put cinnamon in them again?”

You froze, staring at him, your mind racing. You had done it on purpose, hoping the warmth of cinnamon would taste better, make him taste better.

“I told you not to do that,” he growled, his fist slamming down on the table. “I don’t understand why you like that damn spice so much."

“I... I’m sorry,” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady, but the fear laced every syllable. You’d done it to survive, to cope, to feel something, anything other than the numbness that threatened to swallow you whole.

Negan shook his head, “We’re going on vacation,” he said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart skipped a beat. Vacation? You stared at him in disbelief, the word foreign on your tongue, like it didn’t belong here in this nightmare.

Negan never did this—never took you anywhere, never let you out of the house. You’d been trapped for so long, the idea of leaving, even for a moment, felt surreal.

“Vacation?” you echoed, unsure whether to feel fear or hope.

“Yeah, just need to get out for a while,” Negan replied, leaning back in his chair, completely at ease. “You’ve been good this month. You deserve a little reward.” His tone was calm, almost too calm, as if you should be grateful for this twisted gesture of kindness.

You nodded, a forced smile tugging at your lips as you turned away. Inside, your mind raced. A vacation—the word was a double-edged sword, dangling freedom just out of reach but with invisible strings attached.

You didn’t trust it. You didn’t trust him.

By the time you finished packing, your nerves were frayed. You zipped up the small suitcase Negan had given you, staring at the unfamiliar clothes inside.

Dresses, shoes, makeup—things he had forced upon you, things that felt like pieces of someone else’s life. You weren’t sure who you were anymore, let alone what this trip would mean. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you were leaving the house.

As you stepped outside, the air hit you like a wave, crisp and fresh against your skin. The sun was brighter than you remembered, almost painful as it splashed across the pavement.

You blinked against the light, scanning your surroundings, trying to memorize every detail—the street, the houses, the trees. Anything that might help you if you ever got a chance to run.

Negan locked the door behind you with a loud click, the sound startling you back to reality. He looked up, catching the way your eyes darted around the neighborhood, and his expression darkened. He stepped toward you, his presence looming like a shadow.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Try anything, and I’ll kill you. You know I will.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in your throat. Any fleeting thought of escape vanished, crushed under the weight of his threat. He always meant what he said.

With a shove, Negan guided you toward the car, the one you recognized all too well. The first time you saw it parked in front of your house, it was just another car, another passerby.

You never knew then how much it would change everything, how much it would take from you. Now, it was like a cage on wheels.

As the car pulled away from the house, you watched the neighborhood disappear in the rearview mirror, your pulse quickening as each street faded behind you.

You were leaving. But not the way you had dreamed.

Negan glanced over at you, smirking as if amused by the tension rolling off you. “You made it,” he said suddenly.

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

He chuckled, the sound bitter and low. “You made it to California. Without him.”

California.

The word hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. No. No, California. This was the place you had always dreamed of settling down with Joel—the place you had whispered about in quiet moments together, imagining a life of peace and love far from the chaos of your old life.

And now, you were here.

But without Joel.

Your chest tightened, panic bubbling up as you realized just how far away you were from Joel. So far away from the life you wanted, from the man who promised to protect you, to love you.

Instead, you were trapped in this waking nightmare, every mile taking you further from the only person who could save you.

Negan’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “We’ll go shopping first,” he said, eyes fixed on the road ahead. His tone was casual, almost light, as if this was just another normal day for him. But nothing about this felt normal to you.

You nodded stiffly, your mind spinning as the weight of the situation sank in. Shopping? Like everything wasn’t completely wrong? Your chest tightened further, your thoughts pulling you back to Joel—so far away now, so unreachable. You were losing yourself with every mile, every moment trapped with him.

Negan shifted in his seat, his eyes sliding over to you. You felt his gaze before you saw him reach out. When his fingers brushed against your cheek, you flinched instinctively, recoiling from his touch. His laugh was low and mocking, a cruel sound that made your skin crawl.

“Little girl’s scared,” he sneered, his voice soft but dripping with condescension. “Now, you don’t want people in public seeing you like that, do you? Looking all frightened, like I’m some monster.” His words were meant to soothe, but they came with an underlying threat, a warning that made your blood run cold. “Act like you’re my girlfriend. Because you are mine. And if you want to be safe... well, you know what to do.”

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat, your heart hammering in your chest as his words sank in. Mine. The way he said it, the possessiveness in his voice—it twisted something deep inside you, a sickening feeling that you couldn’t shake.

Negan leaned closer, his fingers tightening slightly on your jaw as he turned your face toward him. “Sweetheart,” he crooned, his tone shifting to something almost affectionate, but it was laced with menace. “You’re pale as a ghost. Put some fucking makeup on later, will ya? I can’t have you walking around looking like you’ve seen a damn corpse.”

You didn’t respond, too frozen to move, but he didn’t seem to care. He continued, eyes darkening as he spoke. “I’m gonna buy you some dresses. Nice ones. Make you look pretty for me. We’ll stay in a hotel for a day or two, just the two of us. Won’t that be nice?” His grin widened, and the weight of his words settled like stones in your stomach.

It wasn’t a question. It never was.

You forced yourself to nod, knowing better than to argue or resist. Not now. Not when you were so far from help, so far from him.

Negan led you through the brightly lit aisles of the mall, his large hand gripping yours, his presence as commanding and unsettling as ever. You kept your head down, trying not to draw attention to yourself. It had been so long since you’d been out in public like this, since you’d seen the outside world beyond the prison of his house. The colors and sounds of the mall felt jarring, almost unreal.

He’d been in control the entire time—picking out dresses, shoes, makeup—showering you with expensive, branded items you had no say in. Every time you hesitated or tried to speak, he would flash that same dangerous smile, and your voice would die in your throat. You just smiled and nodded, doing what you had to do to survive, to avoid provoking him.

Negan was wealthy, more than Joel. The things he bought were far beyond what you could ever imagine affording. He never flinched at the price tags, never hesitated to pick the most luxurious items. But the more he showered you with these things, the more you felt trapped, like he was putting a price on you, buying your compliance with each extravagant purchase.

But you could feel it deep down—something wasn’t right. Negan had never treated you like this before, never taken you out, never spoiled you with gifts. It was all too strange, too sudden. There was an unspoken tension in the air, something lurking behind his actions, behind the forced smiles and fake affection. He was up to something, and you knew better than to trust whatever game he was playing.

When the shopping was over, you climbed back into the car with him, your arms full of bags, your mind full of questions. But you kept quiet. There was no use in asking. Not when the answer would come on his terms.

The hotel room wasn’t what you expected. It was plain, with just a bed, a dresser, and a small bathroom—nothing fancy despite the luxury of the shopping trip. Negan set your bag down, full of the clothes he had bought for you, and locked the door behind him, the metallic click ringing ominously in your ears.

He motioned for you to sit on the edge of the bed, and you obeyed, your body moving on autopilot, fear guiding every step. The room felt colder now, the walls seeming to close in on you as the reality of the situation sank in.

Negan stood in front of you, his dark eyes watching you intently, that familiar threat lurking beneath his calm exterior. He waited for a moment before speaking, as if enjoying the tension hanging between you.

“We’re gonna get some dinner soon,” he said, his voice low and serious. “You put on the dress I bought you. Put some makeup on. Dress nice, dolled up—you understand me?”

You hesitated, confused by his sudden shift in tone, but you nodded. Of course, you nodded.

“I’ll be waiting in the restaurant downstairs,” he continued, leaning in closer until his face was inches from yours. His breath was hot against your skin as he spoke, “But listen to me carefully now...”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his expression darkened, his voice becoming more menacing. “There’s a friend of mine coming here. He’s gonna ask for you to come down to meet me, and you’re gonna act nice, okay? You’re gonna do exactly what I tell you to do.”

You stared at him, fear rising in your throat. A friend? What did he mean by that? Why was someone else involved? None of this made sense.

“And if you try anything...” Negan’s voice dropped to a growl, his grip on your face tightening. “If you even think about running or doing something stupid... I swear to God, I’ll chop you into pieces and ship you to that fucking old man of yours. You understand me?”

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. You just nodded, too terrified to do anything else.

“Good girl,” he said, smiling that twisted smile again before letting go of your face.

Negan walked over to the small table by the window, where he pulled something out of his pocket—a small plastic bag filled with white powder. Your heart sank even further.

He tossed the bag onto the table, along with a couple of pills in a clear container. “Now, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with dark amusement, “you're gonna have a little fun tonight. You’re gonna need this.”

You shook your head instinctively, fear shooting through your veins. “No, I don’t do th—”

Negan’s smile faded, replaced by a cold, threatening look. He stepped forward quickly, his large hand grabbing your face roughly, his fingers digging into your cheeks so hard it hurt.

“You think you get to say no to me? After everything I’ve done for you? You’re mine now, you don’t get to refuse me.” His voice was low, menacing.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to shake your head, your voice trembling as you pleaded, “Please, I don’t want to—”

He squeezed your face tighter, cutting you off. “You’re going to take those fucking pills, and you’re going to snort this,” he snarled, his eyes flashing with cruelty.

Your heart raced as you stared at the drugs on the table. Panic swirled inside you, but the terror in Negan’s eyes, the violent way he held you, made you realize you had no choice.

You didn’t know what he was capable of, but you were sure he meant every word of his threat.

Negan let go of your face with a shove, and you stumbled backward, gasping for breath as your skin stung where his fingers had been. He stood there, towering over you, his presence suffocating. “Go on,” he said coldly, “take the pills. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

With shaking hands, you reached for the pills. They felt like poison between your fingers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at Negan, not with the way he was staring at you.

You knew there was no way out of this. You could feel your soul breaking as you placed the pills on your tongue, forcing them down with a dry swallow.

“Good girl,” Negan said mockingly, watching your every move like a predator. He grabbed the bag of white powder, dumping some onto the table. Then, he handed you a rolled-up bill. “Now snort this. It’ll help loosen you up.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you didn’t move fast enough. He slammed his hand on the table, making you jump. “Do it!” he barked, his patience running thin.

You shakily took the bill, your mind racing with desperation. Every fiber of your being screamed against what was happening, but you were trapped—cornered.

Slowly, you leaned over the table, and as you inhaled the powder, you saw your friends do this, you have never take it before, your vision blurred with tears, your whole body shaking with fear and disgust.

Negan’s eyes darkened with satisfaction as he watched, a twisted grin spreading across his face. “That’s my girl. Now you’re ready for a good time,” he said, his voice dripping with venom.

He turned and headed the door, “Now, get ready. I’ll see you downstairs.”

The door shut behind him, and you were left alone in the silence of the room. The air felt suffocating, your mind racing with questions, with dread.

You stood up slowly, your body shaking as you moved toward your bag. The dress he had picked out for you lay on top, soft and elegant, but it felt like a costume—a mask you had to wear to get through this night.

With trembling hands, you picked it up and began to change, your mind going blank as you prepared yourself for what felt like the next step in Negan’s twisted game.

You stood in front of the mirror, your hands trembling as you smoothed down the dress Negan had chosen for you. It clung to your body in all the right places, elegant and far too glamorous for a simple dinner.

Your reflection stared back at you, but you barely recognized yourself—pale, hollowed-out eyes, with layers of makeup hiding the exhaustion, the fear. You were doing exactly what Negan had told you to do, like a puppet on strings, hoping that by following his orders, you could stay safe.

A knock on the door startled you. You grabbed your purse, your heart beating wildly in your chest. This was it. You were about to meet Negan’s "friend," the one he’d warned you about.

When you opened the door, your stomach dropped. The man standing in front of you was older, dressed in a suit, his graying hair slicked back, but there was something off about him. His eyes roamed over you, slow and deliberate, starting from your feet and lingering on every inch of your body. The smile on his face was thin, predatory.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted, his voice smooth, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

You forced a smile, your lips feeling like they might crack from the tension. “Just a second, I’ll get my purse,” you said, retreating into the room. You felt uneasy but tried to convince yourself it was nothing. Negan said you were going to meet him downstairs.

But then you heard it—the unmistakable click of the door closing and locking behind you. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you turned, seeing the man now standing inside the room, the door sealed shut. Panic rippled through you.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice shaky, trying to make sense of the situation. Maybe he was just being overzealous. Maybe he didn’t mean any harm.

But he smiled again, that same unsettling smile, and took a step forward. “Negan told you we were going downstairs, didn’t he?”

Your stomach twisted into knots. You forced yourself to nod, your voice barely a whisper. “Yes, he’s waiting for us…”

The man chuckled, low and mocking. “He used the old excuses, huh?” His eyes gleamed with something dark, something vile, as he continued to advance on you.

You stepped back instinctively, feeling the panic rise in your chest. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer, just kept coming closer, his steps deliberate. “You’re quite young,” he said, almost to himself, like he was studying you, enjoying your fear. “How old are you?”

You took another step back, the edge of the bed pressing against your calves. “What is going on? Where's Negan?” you tried again, your voice wavering with the growing dread.

But he just smiled wider. “It’s alright,” he said softly, like he was trying to soothe you. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll be quick.”

Your blood turned to ice. “What? What do you mean?”

He laughed again, a sick, twisted sound that made your skin crawl. “Of course he never told you. You thought this was just a nice little dinner date, didn’t you?” His voice dripped with condescension. “I heard you’re experienced with older men.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your mind raced, trying to connect the dots, and then it clicked—the shopping, the hotel, the dress, this strange man, the way Negan had spoken to you before he left. This wasn’t just vacation.

“No,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat. “No, no, you’ve got it wrong. Negan said—”

“I know what he said,” the man interrupted, stepping closer until he was towering over you. “But I paid a lot of money for you. You better be worth it.”

The realization slammed into you like a freight train. Negan hadn’t taken you out for dinner. He had sold you.

“No, no, no,” you muttered, shaking your head as the panic clawed at your insides. You turned to run, but his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and yanking you back.

“Ooh, fiery, are we?” he sneered, his grip bruising as he pulled you closer. “I like that.”

“Let me go!” you screamed, thrashing in his hold, but he was stronger, and before you knew it, he had tossed you onto the bed. The soft mattress did nothing to cushion the impact, and your body hit with a thud, the air rushing from your lungs.

You scrambled, trying to push yourself up, but his weight was on you in an instant, pinning you down. His hands gripped your wrists, forcing them above your head as he loomed over you, his breath hot and sour against your face.

Your mind spiraled in a whirlwind of terror and disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. You’d survived so much, endured so much, and now this? You felt the crushing weight of helplessness pressing down on you, suffocating you.

“No, please,” you begged, tears streaming down your face as your voice cracked. “Please don’t do this.”

"Please, I beg you, sir, please don't" you cry, no God, not this please, no.

He laughed again, that same cruel, mocking sound, and leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered,

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. This won’t take long.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind racing for an escape, but there was none. You were trapped, powerless, and every second that passed felt like a step closer to losing yourself completely.

In that moment, all you could think about was Joel—his face, his touch, the way he’d promised to keep you safe. But now, you were so far from him, so far from everything you had ever wanted. And as the man’s weight pressed down on you, suffocating, you realized with chilling certainty that no one was coming to save you.

You were alone.

IM SORRY BUT THIS CHAPTER LAZY ASF, I SWEAR I WILL DO IT BETTER NEXT CHAPTERS, ENJOY!

78 notes · View notes