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yandere-writer-momo · 5 months

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Yandere Short Stories: Too Late For Remorse

(Prequel)

Yandere Ex Husband x Countess Fem Reader

TW: time regression, cheating (mentioned), yandere, delusional behavior, etc.

“No!” (Your name) shot up from her bed, body covered in a cold sheen of sweat. Her lungs were on fire while her breathing was labored. Her hands fumbled at her neck as her heart pounded in her chest harder than a hammer against wood. She was alive… but how? She had been poisoned by her husband’s mistress…

(Your name) clambered from her silken sheets. The young lady nearly tripped on the fabric from her haste, but she had to scramble to the mirror… she had to make sure.

(Your name) gasped at her reflection in shock. She was twenty again… no longer was she the sullen, neglected thirty year old wife of Duke Blackburn. She was once again the young Countess (Last name)! She had the means to start over again.

(Your name) sunk to her knees as she smiled at her ceiling. A few tears fell down her cheeks as she sucked in a shaky breath. She wouldn’t waste this second chance, no. She’d get her engagement annulled and live a peaceful life this time… no matter who she had to eliminate. (Your name) would pay her fiancé and his mistress back ten fold for their betrayal.

(Your name) cut up her breakfast with the smallest of smiles on her lips. A week had passed since her time regression and her personality has done a complete one eighty.

No longer was Countess (your name) naive and meek, she was a brighter existence with a determination to learn more knowledge. A change that startled the people around her… especially her father.

Her father, the count, seemed quite curious on the sudden change in his only daughter. (Your name) had always been a young woman interested in romance and fairytales, yet that girl was no longer sat in front of him… she was a stranger now.

“My dear, are you not interested in any sweets?” Count (last name) softly asked his daughter who hadn’t touched any of the desserts presented before her. “These have always been your favorite…”

“I’m sorry, I’m just not interested in sweets anymore.” (Your name) gave her father a soft smile. It wasn’t a lie, she lost her love of sweets in her past life when her husband had made constant comments on her body over the years.

Count (last name) frowned before he sighed. “You also haven’t sent Trishan any letters recently… is everything okay between you two?”

Ah yes… Trishan was his name. (Your name) had called him Duke Blackburn for so long that she had forgotten his name…

“I don’t think he liked me that much is all, father.” (Your name) replied softly. “Plus he’s been awfully close to Lady Serpico’s daughter, Lady Gia.”

Count (last name)’s expression quickly darkened at the mention of Lady Serpico. That nightmare of a woman had damaged the reputation of his wife many years ago before they had gotten married… could she have sent her daughter to try to do the same to his darling (your name)? Was this why she had been acting so strange? Had Duke Blackburn made his daughter feel inferior to a snake?

“I will look into it, my dear daughter.” Her father rose from the table to pat his daughter’s head in an affectionate manner. “I love you so much dear… don’t you ever forget that.”

Of course (your name) hadn’t forgotten that, that’s why she used her father’s love to her advantage. Perhaps he could free her from this fate if he annulled the engagement once he found out about the affair?

(Your name) calmly slipped her tea as a ghost of a smile crawled on her lips. She’s moved her first chest piece, she wondered if her dear fiancé would enjoy the shame?

Trishan shoved all the papers off his desk, his hands clutched at his chest while he struggled to breathe. Where was his fiancée? His darling fiancée?

Trishan’s blue eyes scanned the papers in hopes to spot a letter from her, the ones she used to always send him during this time.

He’s returned to the past before he was blinded by greed… before his long affair with Gia Sherpico… before (your name)’s murder. He could make it all right now since he had the chance to be the husband his beautiful, loyal wife deserved!

Trishan frowned when he hadn’t found any new letters. Was (your name) in good health? She was always such a frail woman… perhaps he should go visit her? Yes! She’d probably be so happy, she always had such a beautiful smile.

Trishan began to gather up all of the papers with a smile on his face. He had already ended things with lady Gia the moment he returned to the past, that snakelike woman wouldn’t pull the rug under him this time! He would not let her sweet lies fill his head and turn him against his darling wife. His innocent wife who had done nothing but love him…

Trishan couldn’t bear to find (your name)’s cold body again… he couldn’t live with himself if she died again. If her lips were blue and she laid in a pile of her own blood like some grotesque halo. No, he would protect her this time!

Trishan sighed dreamily at the thought of this second chance. He’d visit her this weekend with her favorite flowers, baby’s breath! They do mean every lasting love, after all!

A shame Trishan failed to realize was that a large bundle of baby’s breath smelled like feet…

“I’m sorry, but my daughter doesn’t wish to see you.” Trishan felt his blood run cold when he was denied entry into the Count’s home. (Your name) didn’t want to see him? This had to be some sort of sick joke! Yes… that was it.

“Very funny, Count (last name).” Trishan waved off the count as he tried to enter the estate anyways. His large bouquet of baby’s breath caused Count (Last name) even more ire.“(Your name) will be thrilled I’m here-“

“My daughter doesn’t deserve a man who can’t keep it in his pants and someone who’s gift her a bouquet that smells like feet.” The count shoved Duke Blackburn back a few steps, the baby’s breath now laid in a puddle of petals at his feet. “Good day to you!”

Trishan could only stand there in shock, his hands clutched at his chest while his breathing was ragged. It wasn’t supposed to be like this… they were supposed to start over. They were meant to be.

Trishan tried to gather up the flowers in haste but they were already too trampled to fix… he’d have to get her a new bouquet. Perhaps a better scented one at that?

Trishan glanced up at the door, hopeful that this was all a big misunderstanding. (Your name) could never hate him… her father must be keeping her away from him.

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ryukzakiii · 8 months

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distraction ⭑ l. lawliet (pt.2!)

part one here !

summary: now that the first move had been made, you start to realize just how badly L needs to be the best at anything he does, and how much he’s used to getting just what he wants.

pairing: l. lawliet x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), oral (f. receiving), voyeurism kinda, unprotected sex (wrap it up), praise ig, not really dom!L but he’s spoiled and gets what he wants, idk guys it’s nasty, fluff at the end :)

authors note: i got so carried away i cant edit it anymore just have at it and enjoy ya freaks!!

smut under the cut !!

after you and L first slept together that night in headquarters, his interest in you had grown exponentially. mainly because he couldn’t fully understand how somebody as beautiful and brilliant as you would ever be interested in somebody like him, but also because he had become fixated on learning everything there was to know about pleasing a woman. pleasing you.

every time the rest of the task force would leave for the night, he would take the opportunity to have you to himself almost immediately. as the nights went on, he grew more and more confident in what he was doing, being able to get you down on your knees in front of him just by speaking to you for a moment. his monotonous (yet somehow cocky) tone of voice alone drove you crazy.

as weeks became months, any little bit of hesitation he once had was smothered and he was just as sure of himself regarding you as he was regarding everything else; borderline too much.

that meant he began to want his needs to be met at any time he wished. like how he had sweets or drinks whenever he wanted, and anything he asked for he would always have post-haste, and it wasn’t like L to change his ways.

he would wait for everyone to leave the room, even just for ten minutes, and you’d be sitting in his lap barely able to catch your breath due to the fervour with which he kissed you.

he would ask watari to page you to his room if it was a night you hadn’t already been with him that day, either at school or out with friends, and you wouldn’t be there 5 minutes before he had you bent over a table (or the couch, or his work desk, or once over the windowsill the night you’d mentioned wanting to see the full moon).

in not so many words, his libido had gone into overdrive and he quite enjoyed getting whatever he wanted.

the only problem was that once you two were finished and he had a small break from the incessant urge to bury himself into you as deep as he could go, he still wanted to be just as close to you and horribly wanted you to feel the same way. unfortunately, this was the one situation where he couldn’t find the words to express his feelings.

so, since he had made it his goal to be the very best at making you feel good, he decided to get his point across to you the best way he now knew how.

“y/n, would you please come over here for a moment?”

almost everyone was currently heading out the door, off on their various ways for the evening aside from L, you, light, and misa. light had been discussing his thoughts about something with you while the others were busy and misa was awaiting a chance to convince light to hang out with her.

you excused yourself from your conversation with light and made your way to the opposite end of the room where L was sat in his usual spot in front of the television.

“what can i do for you?”

“actually i’d like to talk to you about something i want to do for you.” he said it as though light and misa weren’t 20 feet away, “well, to you, more accurately. i want to try something new, i wasn’t so sure i could do it but i believe i have a well enough understanding of what makes you tick to be successful.”

despite how casually and technical he spoke, every word was making that familiar damp feeling between your legs reappear. he was looking at you like he wanted to take a bite and it took everything in you not to fall to your knees right then and there, “uh, what exactly did you have in mind?”

“i’d really like to try my hand at performing cunnilingus. in fact,” he turned his head to look towards the others in the room, “let’s do it now. no time like the present eh?”

“L, whatever you’re thinking about is a bad idea. light and misa are right over there.”

“nevermind them, they won’t be able to see past the back of the couch, come and sit here.”

you nodded and he slid over and motioned for you to sit where he had just been, handing you his cell phone in the process, “if you get too nervous about them, speed dial light on this and it will send a message to his phone to meet down in headquarters. sound good?”

the second he saw you nod again, he crouched down to the floor in front of you and began working away at the clasp of your pants. he shimmied them down your legs and onto the floor, gently so as not to make a sound, your underwear going next leaving you fully exposed to him.

he was in awe. sure, he was now incredibly familiar with your body, but he’d never gotten as close as he now found himself. your pussy was just inches from his face, wet and waiting, all for him. his hands gripped the insides of your thighs, pushing them apart so he could get a better look at you in all your glory.

“would you look at this, you’ve gotten wet before i’ve even touched you.” he spread you further open with his thumbs, fingers still curled into your thighs and hot breath fanning over you, “i suppose it would only be right of me to clean up the mess i’ve caused, don’t you think?”

“yes, please.” your voice came out as barely a whisper, “but they’re going to hear you.”

“shh, just press the button and they’ll go away.” he pressed a kiss right above your clit and you had to bite your tongue to stop from crying out. even just keeping your head still was almost impossible.

you gripped the phone tightly in your hand as he kissed your clit this time, sucking it into his mouth gently.

he wasn’t trying to get you caught. that would undoubtedly be bad for the both of you, for both your jobs and your reputations. so why did he find himself itching to make you cry out? to make light and misa painfully aware of the fact that in the same suite they sat in talking innocently, L was making you feel the best that anyone could, so good you lost all sense of control and let them find out.

he knew you would never be able to show your face again had this happened though, so he reached a hand above him and clasped it over your mouth, “be quiet, i’m trying to concentrate.”

you squirmed under his touch and his tongue began to venture further, further inside his favourite place to be. he licked a stripe all the way back to your clit and your thighs instinctively squeezed shut around his head.

his hand muffled the whine that escaped you and you were sure someone would hear you. you clicked the button to dial light and finally tossed away the phone, gripping onto the couch cushions with both hands to keep yourself grounded.

you could hear his phone chime, followed by the sound of chairs pushing out and the door slamming. L paused his movements and was at last able to come up for air, mouth and chin now glistening in the faint light from the tv.

“finally i have you all to myself,” he readjusted so his arms curled under your legs, allowing him a better hold to keep them open wide.

he dove right back in, pointy nose prodding at your clit with every movement of his mouth making your body jolt. your hands worked their way into his already messy hair, holding onto it tightly as you began rocking your hips into his mouth, wet and warm and making you feel amazing.

“yes, yes just like that,” you panted out, “god that’s perfect L, please, don’t stop.”

he groaned into your pussy hearing you talk to him like that, sending a shockwave up through you. you were close, he could tell, he just had to get you there. he needed to get you there, to show you how good he could be for you.

you held him impossibly tighter to you as the knot in your stomach began to build, dragging yourself along his tongue hurriedly enough to make you wonder if he was able to keep up. your moans turned into high pitched whines as you approached your release, not a care in the world anymore about who might be around to hear you.

with both the pretty sounds you were making and the simple act of you using his mouth however you pleased, riding his tongue now to practically get yourself off, L felt so accomplished. knowing he could make you feel just as desperate for him as he felt for you was enough that he could die happy.

“oh fuck, fuck i’m gonna cum,” he was doing it. your whole body began to spasm and your back arched straight off the couch. he held you as still as he could and your legs once again closed around his head, this time squeezing for dear life as his tongue continued to work circles around your clit. all that was coming out of your mouth was babbles of his name and profanities.

as the pleasure soon turned into overstimulation, he continued without faltering his pace. he was determined. he was sure you’d probably had a good experience to compare this to, hell maybe even a great one, so he had to be sure he was the best.

“L, please, ‘s too much,” you whined, “it’s my turn.”

he pulled away entirely, coming closer to head level and giving your overworked pussy the break it was craving, “i’m sorry, i don’t recall saying anything about you getting a turn.”

“but what about you? just a taste, just quick.”

he cut you off by pressing his thumb down on your clit, the other hand moving up to cover your mouth again with a bit more force than the first time.

“i don’t know when you got it in your head that you run the show around here, but i suggest you get used to listening to me. keep being difficult and i’ll have no choice but to stop entirely.” he was bluffing, of course, but his stone cold expression didn’t give him away. his eyes trailed down to where his thumb was pressed, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile, “i really don’t want to have to do that. you just taste so, so sweet. think you can be good and behave for me?”

you nodded vigorously, pussy squeezing around nothing and begging him for attention again, the cocky, almost condescending tone in his voice making you shiver.

“excellent. now turn around for me please, hands on the back of the couch.”

you did as he asked the second he let go of you, hands holding firmly to the back of the couch and ass presented to him. you could hear his belt undoing, followed by a zipper and you braced yourself for him, but nothing.

L was a bit busy. stroking himself with one hand he stood to take in the sight before him. he had a bad habit of doing this, staring at you when he was supposed to be doing something, but he couldn’t help it. his eyes were glued to where you needed him to be, trying to carve the sight of it into his memory. his free hand held your waist as he finally lined himself up, coaxing another whine out of you as he bottomed out.

his thrusts started shallow and slow, your gentle moans fading into the background as he focused on how warm you felt.

you turned your head back to look at him, the sight of him looming over you with his jaw hung slack making you squeeze around him, “harder L, please.”

he switched to both hands and tightened his grip on your waist, “what did i say about behaving?” nonetheless, he was pushing into you much rougher now than before, yet still agonizingly slow.

“‘m sorry, it just feels so good.”

he began to pick up his pace, breathing becoming heavier the more into it he got, soon letting out little pants and groans of his own. generally, he was rather quiet during sex, only really vocalizing near the end when he couldn’t hold it in anymore, so the fact that he was talking to you and teasing you was a very pleasant surprise.

“yeah? does that feel good?” hearing you say just how good he was doing spurred him on even further, “do me a favour, id like to see the rest of you, please.”

you pulled the shirt you were wearing over your head as best as you could, L placing a hand on your sternum to hold you up. instead of letting you back down however, his hand trailed up to your chest, taking hold of one of your breasts as your back came flat against his chest. his chin rested on your shoulder and you could feel his sharp breaths hitting your ear, his racing heartbeat on your back matching your own.

the knot in your stomach returned, your pussy fluttering around him making him feel like he was on top of the world, “you— you’re so beautiful, god i could do this all day. look at you, so responsive to me, and such a good listener.”

all you could do was pant, his pace now unforgiving and making you feel like he was tearing you apart in the best way possible. he kissed behind your ear and let go of your chest in favour of rubbing gentle circles on your clit.

your whole body felt like it was white hot, “shit! yes, oh please L. i need it, i need you, please make me cum.”

he’d never heard you sound so frantic before and it was driving him up the wall, “y/n, you feel so incredible.” the more he spoke the quicker your release came rushing through you like a stampede, “i love feeling you around me like this, fuck, you’re just perfect.”

you gripped onto his arms and craned your neck to try and look at him, crying out pleas of his name and senselessly confessing to him how beautiful he was and how good he always made you feel. he held you impossibly tighter, his work on your clit long forgotten now as his only goal was to keep you as close as physically possible.

his hair hung low over his eyes, messy and sticking to his face from sweat. you were getting overstimulated once again but you’d lost all the sense in you to care, another orgasm bubbling up already because of it. L felt it, as if the look on your red face wouldn’t have given it away regardless, and his jaw fell open as his own release came creeping up on him.

his hips finally began to falter, a few loud, deep groans ripping out of him. his eyebrows knitted together and he shut his eyes, steady whimpers and groans falling out of him now as the two of you reached your peak together.

you felt him twitch inside of you, one of his arms reaching to hold the couch as his muscles began to give out on him. he placed sloppy, sweet kisses on your jaw before flopping down onto his back on the couch with an outstretched arm waiting for you.

he was back to normal, back to being his quiet self. you laid your head on his chest and he yanked the blanket from the back of the couch to cover the two of you, fingers gently tapping and tracing lines onto your bare back. this was your favourite part of it all, just laying with him and basking in what you’d just done.

for L, despite how much he craved the feeling of this, this was the part that would still make him question himself. when thoughts of self-doubt had an opening to creep up on him. the muscles in his hands twitched and the hold he had on you subconsciously tightened, dreading the moment you decide to get up and go to your room to take care of yourself.

every time you would bid him adieu, he could feel exactly where you had been laying become cold, physically reminding him of your absence. he couldn’t stand it. every night he tried to work up the courage to tell you to come back, to wait for him in his room instead, to ask you if he could come to bed with you, but every night the words would get caught in his throat and he’d choke.

you didn’t show any signs of getting up though, if anything you were letting yourself get comfier. he revelled in it, the whole room smelled a little like sweat but he found it almost sweet. maybe that would become his new favourite smell. he hoped you were as blissful as he was.

you trailed a hand up under the front of his shirt, letting your hand rest over his heart and feeling it quicken with every little movement you made.

“i really don’t want to get up.” you finally spoke, “i wish we could just stay like this.”

he winced, “don’t get up. you don’t have to.”

you tilted your head up to look at him, his face finally visible with his hair going every which way and his eyelids hanging half-closed. this was the most relaxed he ever looked, probably because he was far less concentrated than he usually had to be.

“we can’t just sleep here on the couch, L.”

we. we can’t sleep here on the couch, “we could. technically we can do whatever we want.”

he smiled at you, a coy little smile, and you knew you were so screwed.

“how about you go and wait for me in my room then?” he wasn’t looking at you anymore, too nervous for your response, “i just have to put all these files where they need to go, and maybe clean up a little.”

“really?”

“if that’s something you want to do, if not don’t feel like you’re obligated to say yes.”

“no i want to! i mean, as long as you’re sure you want me in your room.”

“of course i do.”

he sent you upstairs with his key card once the both of you were dressed again and you nervously waited for the elevator to stop on his floor. skipping the whole way to his bedroom, and once inside you tucked yourself away in the bathroom to clean yourself up.

when L entered the room, you were nowhere to be seen. he heard the sound of the running tap in the bathroom and decided to wait for you in the bed. he laid right in the middle, how he was used to sleeping, and watched you with a smile plastered on his face as you walked out of the bathroom and over towards him.

you climbed under the blanket with him and tucked under his arm, head laying on his chest and an arm stretched across his torso.

“your bed’s comfy.”

“it’s a lot more comfortable now that you’re in it.” he placed a hand on your head, “before you fall asleep, i want to tell you id like if you slept here more often. whenever you want, in fact.”

“i will be taking you up on that.” your eyes were closed, sleep beginning to whisk you away, “you’re about to see so much of me you’ll get sick of it.”

as he felt you shift into unconscious, breathing slowed against his chest and your body pressed against his, he was sure he was the luckiest man in world at that moment, “i’d never get sick of you.”

#l lawliet #l lawliet smut #death note #death note smut #death note fic #l death note #anime #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet fanfic #l lawliet fanfiction #l lawliet x you

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autisticlancemcclain · 10 months

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this is how it started

———

This is how it continues: Keith holds his hand all the way to breakfast.

In itself not incriminating. Lance holds Hunk’s hand all the time. He’s always got an arm around Pidge’s shoulder. Shiro is amused by Lance’s incessant attempts to have them skip about with their arms linked. Sometimes he offers his arm to Allura with the poshest expression he can muster, just to make her laugh. Not all of his attempts are entertained by his friends, of course, but there’s nothing novel about Lance attaching himself to people as they move about.

Keith reaching out, as they walk out of the bedroom they just shared, and linking their hands together easy as pie is, however, novel.

Everything is so bizarre. It’s worsened, really, after a night of decent sleep (in a real genuine mattress!), because it’s just not what Keith and Lance…do. They race each other to doorways, yanking on hoods or sticking out legs to trip and get ahead. They escalate from light shoving to full on wrestling in the middle of conversations. Keith is not exempt from Lance’s constant need to touch, sure, but it’s never — like this. Light, easy, comfortable, familiar.

(It was, briefly, at the end. When on their way to meetings and briefings and missions even Keith’s hand would rest on the small of Lance’s back. Absentmindedly. Unnoticeable. But a he left a week after it started, and as far as he’s concerned anything started in that era has long since been left behind them.)

They’re late — the rest of the team has already gathered. Pidge and Allura are half asleep on either of Shiro’s shoulders, and Coran and Hunk are arguing intensely but playfully about a pile of unrecognisable goo that Lance has learned to recognise as the space version of oatmeal. Hunk pokes it in disgust. Coran feigns outrage.

All five faces turn to them as they approach, and Lance can’t place a single one of their expressions. He is made suddenly aware that he has loosened his grip on Keith’s hand when he feels him squeeze three times, quickly in succession.

“…Huh,” Shiro says after a moment, eyes trained on their clasped fingers. His face is carefully blank. No one else offers any commentary.

“How’d y’all sleep,” Keith asks, pulling out a chair. Lance realizes after a beat that it’s meant for him, and he flushes up to his ears. He tugs his hood over his head and nearly upends the table in his haste to melt into the offered chair. Keith, in contrast, sits down next to him and rests an arm over the back of Lance’s chair so smoothly it has to be practiced.

Pidge makes a choking noise, cheeks puffed up like she barely managed to keep her mouth shut. Hunk has both hands clapped over his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up,” Lance hisses, face redder than his lion.

Keith’s fingers brush his shoulder. He sinks further into his chair and tugs his hood down lower.

“I slept exceptionally,” Allura says loudly. The look she cuts Lance’s way is straight-up evil, and Lance knows what’s coming, and for several agonizing seconds he considers grabbing the spoon from the goo bowl and stabbing it straight through his eye. “The beds were very comfortable, didn’t you find, Keith?”

You are so dead to me, Lance thinks at her. He even thinks i’m in Altean so the fury can reach her properly.

“Yeah.” Keith leans over to press a kiss to his cheek. Lance’s face gets exponentially redder, and the peanut gallery starts screeching quietly, but despite himself he — leans. Into it. And Keith notices, because his mouth curves into a smile, and he presses another kiss to the curve of Lance’s jaw before pulling away. “Slept right for the first time in two years.”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Shiro says, reminding Lance once again that he is, in fact, Lance’s hero, actually, last few months notwithstanding. He shoots Lance a fond, teasing smile, then turns back to Keith. “My question is: what the fuck?”

“Seconded,” Pidge agrees through a mouthful of goo.

Hunk grimaces at her. She shoves three more bites of goo into her mouth then opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue at the yellow paladin, just to be disgusting. With a scandalized “gross, Pidge!” Hunk shoves chair away and marches to the other side of the table, leaving Pidge sniggering.

Keith watches the whole thing with a smile on his face soaked in so much sadness Lance’s chest physically aches with it. He darts out a hand and wraps it around Keith’s, squeezing it in a mirror of the way he did before. Keith smiles gratefully at him, pulling up his hand and kissing the back of it. Somewhere, Lance hears someone mutter: “Christ alive.”

“There was a — shipwreck, of sorts,” Keith explains eventually. His voice is soft. “Krolia and I flew too close to something. Our intel was outdated. When we finally made it out of the wreckage we were stranded on the back of a space whale, and time was…stretchy.”

“That explains so very little,” Shiro says, shaking his head. He stabs his spoon in some goo. “Space has done little but piss me off in the last couple years, if I’m being honest. Keith, I swear to God I’m going to ground you.”

Keith grins. “Fat chance, old man. I outrank you now.”

“That’s what you think.”

Lance watches them both critically as they argue. Well, ‘argue’. They’re both grinning too hard for any real animosity. And exhaustion still lines Shiro’s features, and he still leans onto Allura for support, but there’s a brightness in his eyes that’s been missing for months. And Keith is —

Keith is here, leaping to his feet, spoon of goo bared dramatically, and he is tired too but he is warm and soft, somehow, and the weight that Lance has always watched on his shoulders seems to have lifted. There is an easiness to him now that there wasn’t before. And Lance notices and cannot stop noticing, because he is beautiful, and because for some reason he has decided to plant himself next to Lance, closer than before, and bleed his warmth. And Lance is supposed to be the lighthearted one and the joking one and the easy one. That is his role. That is what he knows how to play.

But he’s been struggling. And the role has not come easy. And last night he had cried until he slept in Keith’s arms and Keith had held him and checked the room and kissed his hair and has yet to let go of him.

Lance looks at Keith and thinks to himself: maybe just this one thing.

Keith reaches half over the table and musses his brother’s hair, pushing him back into Allura’s careful hold and sitting heavily back in his own seat. He frowns, staring at the space that has grown between his chair and Lance’s during his roughhousing. Slowly, he reaches over and grabs the bottom rung of Lance’s chair, dragging him over until the space between them has disappeared, then he nods once to himself, satisfied, and throws an arm around Lance’s shoulders, pulling him even closer.

And Lance thinks to himself: oh, God.

For a moment Lance is tense. He feels the stares of the rest of the team, teasing and interrogating all at once. He can already anticipate their questions, probably on par with his own.

Keith rests his cheek on top of Lance’s head.

“You good?”

Suddenly, none of that seems to matter. He thinks to himself: I need to sit him down and ask what the hell is going on.

Keith’s thumb starts to gently brush back and forth on the cusp of his shoulder.

He says: “I am now.”

This is how he lets it continue.

———

this is how it ends

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noyatv · 11 months

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𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲| senna!reader

chapter one: controversy

warnings: parental death, senna!reader was born in '93, adriane galisteu is your mom, mentions of death

YN Galisteu Senna, the daughter of the late racing legend Ayrton Senna, is set to join her cousin, Bruno Senna, in the 2012 season. The move has caused quite a stir in the racing community, as it marks the first time that two relatives of Ayrton Senna will be racing together.

Ayrton Senna was one of the most successful Formula One drivers of all time, having won three world championships during his career and is still remembered fondly by many fans. His legacy is now being carried on by his daughter and his nephew, which will surely bring much attention to the Williams team.

While YN Senna has had success in the lower levels of racing, there are some in the racing community that have voiced their concerns over her lack of experience compared to experienced drivers. However, the Williams team has expressed their confidence in YN, citing her family lineage and natural driving talent as a sign of her potential and ability to compete in the highest levels of Formula One.

For the Senna family, this is undoubtedly a dream come true. Ayrton Senna's racing career was cut short by his untimely death in 1994, but now his daughter and nephew will be able to carry on his legacy and compete alongside each other in the highest levels of racing.

No matter how well YN Senna performs in the upcoming 2012 season, the fact that she will be racing alongside her cousin, Bruno Senna, will make for an interesting story, and one that will be remembered for years to come. The move has certainly caused much controversy, but it is also a unique and exciting moment in the history of Formula One racing.

𝙴𝚇𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙿𝚃 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙶𝚀'𝚂 𝙳𝙴𝙲𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟷 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝚈𝙽 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙽𝙰

Q: How did you feel when you heard that Williams had signed you for the upcoming season?

Y: I was so excited and overwhelmed to be given the opportunity to join the Williams F1 team. It was a dream come true and I am so grateful for this chance.

Q: What is it like to be driving with your cousin Bruno Senna?

Y: It's amazing to be able to share this experience with my cousin. It's a privilege to be able to race with him. We have a great relationship and I'm looking forward to the season ahead.

Q: Do you feel any pressure to perform?

Y: I feel pressure to perform, but I'm also very confident in my ability. I'm confident that I can use my experience to succeed in this very competitive sport.

Q: What do you think will be the biggest challenge for you this season?

Y: I think the biggest challenge this season will be the learning curve. There's so much to learn from the other drivers and teams and I'm sure I'll face some difficult moments. I'm confident that I can overcome them though.

Q: What are your goals for the season?

Y: My main goal is to learn as much as I can. Ultimately, I want to be in the best position possible to one day compete for a Formula One championship.

Q: What is your opinion about people doubting your ability to drive in Formula One?

Y: Uh, I wish to prove their doubts wrong?

ˢᵘᶰᵈᵅʸ, ᵐᵅʳᶜʰ ¹⁸ᵗʰ, ²⁰¹²

ᵅᶫᵇᵉʳᵗ ᵖᵅʳᵏ, ᵅᵘˢᵗʳᵅᶫⁱᵅ

Qualifying had gone well; securing a p11. The walk to the Williams was brief, stopping only when I made it to my driver's room. I made haste to change into my suit. Time seemed to have sped up, only stopping when Bruno yelled at me. I walked over to where the car was parked. I got into the car, the engineers were talking to me. I didn't hear all of what they said, only warm and tires.

Time seemed to fly past, only stopping when the checkered flag waved only a couple hundred yards ahead.

"P6!"

"Where's Bruno?"

"He didn't finish due to a collision."

taglist:

@bad268

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ysljoon · 1 year

Text

konig is your roommate

wc: 995 warnings: none just fluff, quick mentions of crying, fem reader (not much metions of female characteristics) a/n: oh lord my first contribution to the cod fandom after consuming brainrot on here and tiktok for the past couple of months :3 i can def do a pt 2 to this with smut but i just wanted to dip my toes in first and see if anybody even likes this lmao MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

How you ended up with a man in his mid 30s that’s retired from the military as a roommate is beyond you

You were a broke teacher living paycheck to paycheck and you needed to find a way to conserve costs

You posted a Craigslist posting (definitely not shady at all) looking for a roommate and he messaged you within the first hour of you posting to see if he could check the place out!

It was mildly jarring seeing a 6’10 man in a black surgical mask show up ringing your doorbell. You couldn’t even see above his chest when you looked through the peephole

He was so quiet when you first tried to spark up a conversation with him that you thought he hated your apartment and maybe even you…

Before he even finished his tour of the apartment he took out an envelope of cash from his pocket that had enough to cover the first three months of rent :0

He moved in all of his belongings the following week while texting you a few times leading up to his move in date just confirming what time he’ll be showing up and if you’re still okay with the agreement

He was equally dry over text as he was in person it was a hard obstacle to jump over to get him to open up with you

The first time he actually started a conversation with you was when he saw you diligently working in the living room on a lesson plan for the upcoming week

At first he just sat down on the couch silently from you just watching you and this didn’t bother you as you’ve come to learn that he is more of an observer than a talker

“Um…what are you working on?”

Your head shot up and a smile spread on your face this was the first time Konig has expressed any interest in your career

“I’m cutting out flashcards I made for the kids so they can match the words to the pictures! I just procrastinated a little bit so I’m doing it all now.” You chuckled and he hummed in acknowledgement

After that conversation the interactions over the months got a lot more comfortable

So here we are now (it’s been about 5 months) and you and Konig are having your weekly movie and pizza night

You let Konig pick the movie this week and you were quite surprised that he chose ‘Inside Out’

Seeing such a large man engrossed in such a cute animated movie made your cheeks hurt with how it made you smile

He was quite surprised when he turned around and saw tears running down your cheeks after watching the scene of Bing Bong die

His eyes widened and without thinking he scooped you up into a hug while you let out all the sad feelings from the characters sacrifice

“Gosh Konig I’m so sorry! That was really silly. I shouldn't be crying so hard over a kid’s movie.”

You looked up at him and your eyes met with his cerulean ones. They had such a tender look to them and it made you and the room feel a lot hotter than what you remember

With a haste Konig pulled down his mask and placed a chaste kiss on your cheek

Needless to say you guys just stared at each other like this: :000 for about a minute before either of you said anything

You were the first one to speak up

“Konig, that was the cutest thing you’ve ever done.”

He just blushed and broke the eye contact and coughed to try and clear his throat

“I, u-um I wanted to do that for a while actually.”

Hearing him say this made you giggle and to reciprocate the feelings you’ve also been holding on to you placed a peck onto his forehead.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while too so now we’re even! The ball’s in your court now Konig, do with that info what you will.”

You pranced off into your room and giggled while Konig was stuck on the couch just absolutely stunned as to what happened.

The next day you wake up and see a note that was slipped under your door. You open it up and it brings a warm smile to your face

‘Dinner at my place tonight! Wear something nice ;)’ You giggled knowing that Konig wasn’t the biggest fan of being in crowded places so a dinner at home was a perfect plan

You noticed Konig wasn’t home so you decided to go to the grocery store really quick and pick up two bottles of white wine for the night

Once you were back at the house you heard Konig was in the shower so you decided to go take a shower yourself and get yourself ready.

You decided to go the full nine yards and put on a red velvet mini dress and do your hair

When you stepped out you saw Konig already at the stove getting dinner ready. You snuck up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist

“Whatcha cookin’?” Your voice was muffled into his back and you felt the vibrations of his chuckle

“It's a surprise schatz so go sit in the living room till I’m done”

“What’s a schatz?” All he did was laugh at your response and usher you out the kitchen

You sat in the living room with a pout on your face until you heard Konig call your name to let you come back into the kitchen

Your mouth watered seeing the chicken parmesan dished out and two poured out glasses of wine

“Oh Konig, this is great!” You stood on your tippy toes to give him a kiss of gratefulness

“Careful Y/N if you keep kissing me like that we’ll never get to dinner…” The sound of his voice was deep and a bit gruff

“And is that really a problem?”

#konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig fanfiction #konig fluff #call of duty #cod mw2

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maxiine · 10 months

Text

Sunshine

Enjoy this angst/fluff about neuvillette <3

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Sitting quietly at one of the many cafes in Fontaine was a daily occurrence for you. You’d often enjoy a cup of tea whilst reading one of the many books you cherished- it was routine.

What wasn’t so common was for it to suddenly down pour amongst the tranquil afternoon you were just enjoying before.

You didn’t hate the rain- in fact you used to be so fond of it. That was before you moved here. Before you became so acquainted with a certain ludex.

With the realization of what the cause of the rain had been, you made haste to get to him quickly; Leaving some mora as a compensation for the inconvenience.

Striding swiftly towards the Opera Epiclese you were stopped by one of the many melusines that accompanied Fontain. She considerately offered you an umbrella whilst demanding you try not to make it habit to run in the rain unprotected. You smiled sweetly at her kind yet reprimanding comment and took the umbrella. With a quick thanks you continued onward- this time with some protection from the droplets that were falling from the sky. Oh how you hoped they weren’t falling from his beautiful eyes too.

Please please, don’t cry.

Finally you found him, standing silently outisde of the Opera Epiclese.

Letting the rain drench him whilst he looked completely lost in thought, hands slightly shaking at his side- you knew he wasn’t okay.

as if the rain hadn’t already made it so blatantly obvious.

You approached him carefully as to not startle him, making your presence known by calling his name softly from a few feet away.

“Neuvi?”

You finally made it beside him and couldn’t help but reach a little higher so your newly gifted umbrella could shield him from the rain.

He stiffened slightly at your nickname for him- almost like he was caught in some embarrassing moment.

He relaxed a bit before turning to face you and immediately he felt a warmness inside as if the sun had appeared in the sky again. Your eyes had glimmered so delightfully, showing so much compassion and concern in just the way you squinted slightly.

You smiled up at him to show him you were here so it was okay now.

‘Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon- don’t cry’

A chant you often sung when it would rain heavily. But nowadays you’d find it better for him to embrace the emotions he bares- for they are what make him part of humanity. He had always struggled with understanding human emotions yet he portrays them so well. However ’Dealing’ with them was the hard part of his learning process. But since you’ve been around, since becoming aquatinted- you have allowed him to feel these emotions to the fullest. Although One feeling you couldn’t bare to see him sulk in was his sadness.

The many trials he’s had to endure recently have become burdensome and have even started to have their effect on his mental being. Neuvillette is known for being passionate about his job and never letting his feelings affect what needs to be done; but once the job is done- once the doors are closed- he’s left with his thoughts and the hollowness in his stomach. What a suffocating feeling indeed.

“You’re going to catch a cold my dear.” He tells you whilst grabbing the umbrella from your hands and covering you both equally as he noticed you were only covering himself.

“And are you not?” You reply seriously with a sigh. “Please neuvi, let’s go home and get you dried and changed.” You reach for his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Yes dear. I am sorry you had to come find me like this.” He replies while stroking the back of your hand with his thumb ever so softly. He wore a sad expression that you couldn’t bare to see.

You reach up and caress his cheek softly, wiping away the tears or drops of rain- you did not know which.

The crashing tides were unforgiving in life, for everyone and everything; but no matter, you would always be there to save him before allowing him to drown in those waters- in those unrelenting thoughts.

“My love, do not apologize.” You kiss the corner of his mouth, gently and carefully. After doing so, You could taste the salty wetness on his cheek that confirmed he had indeed cried before you found him. Your heart broken at the thought.

You hold his face in your palm a little longer, gently rubbing his cheek. He leans in to your touch while slowly closing his eyes to embrace the feeling. His heart felt warm. Love and adoration danced inside his chest for you just from a simple gesture. As the rain came to a slow drizzle, the clouds started to part slightly revealing the sun ever so slightly.

He smiled.

You were the only one who was able to clear his mind so simply, you made him feel so safe, so heard. As long as he has known you, you have been the only person to have completely fill his heart. He never knew love and he never knew these emotions. It was all so foreign. But you’ve shown him everything, you’ve truly shown him the world and more.

You were the sunshine to his cloudy sky’s.

Oh how he loved you so.

#neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x you

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everlastingdreams · 10 months

Text

Isaac Lahey x Reader : All The Things I love

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Story Summary: Isaac asks to borrow your notes for a Math assignment but learned more than he expected to learn from them.

Notes: Fluffy. This has been in my WIP's for way too long. I wasn't sure if it was good enough to finish writing it, but now I have.

Word count of this fic: 2900

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After getting home from school, you had put a pizza in the oven to eat for dinner.

And as you waited for it to be ready, you were busy writing down some things on the list you had been working on. It had started as just a way to put your thoughts into something else to clear your head from them, sadly that plan had not worked out so far. This particular list grew a little longer every day.

When your doorbell rang, you left the small notebook on your desk as you hurried to see who it was.

The second you opened the door you were met with Isaac’s blue eyes and wide smile.

“Hi, sorry for not calling before coming over.” He looked nervous, as if you would slam the door shut on him.

You shook your head at his shyness and gestured for him to come inside “Don’t worry about it. My friends are always welcome.”

He relaxed immediately, his smile grew wider. “I’m…. I’m glad to hear it.”

Usually Isaac always called or texted before coming over, something must have caused him to forget.

You could see that he looked a bit stressed about something, “You know you are always welcome here, Isaac. But is there a particular reason for this unexpected visit ?”

By his expression you could tell that there was a good reason.

“It’s about the math assignment for tomorrow… I uh… I lost my notes.” Isaac sheepishly confessed.

“Lost or forgot to take notes ?” You quirked a brow at him.

He looked guilty now, making it clear that it was the latter.

You decided not to torture him with it, “You can borrow mine.”

The sigh of relief coming from him made you laugh.

“Thanks, y/n. I owe you.” He smiled.

“Yes. You do, Lahey.” You teased, patting his arm with your hand.

You failed to notice how he drew a sharp breath when you touched his arm, and he leaned a little into the touch.

Then the smell of burned pizza reached your nostrils.

“Oh, crap!” You loudly exclaimed before running out of the room. You stopped and turned to him, quickly pointing at your desk. “The notes are over there. It’s the large notebook.”

He nodded quickly, finding it pretty funny to see your reaction to the burned pizza, “I kinda have to go, I gotta go to the store to get some stuff before it closes. I’ll text you later?”

“Okay!” You called back to him and he heard you curse in the kitchen.

He walked over to your desk and took the notebook from it before heading to the door. “Found them! Thanks for the notes!”

“See you tomorrow!” You shouted whilst trying to scrape the burned parts off of the crust of the pizza.

The door opened and closed, alerting you that he had left

After cleaning out the oven, and trying to salvage some of the pizza, you walked back into the living room and noticed the notes were still on your desk. Didn’t Isaac need them?

It was only then that you realized something was wrong.

You had been writing in your diary when Isaac had come to your house, and in your haste you had forgotten to put the diary back in it’s safe place, aka under your mattress.

You were quick to realize what had happened and panicked immediately. Not only did the diary contain your deepest secrets, thoughts and wishes. It also contained the truth about your feelings for him.

He had accidentally taken the little notebook instead of the large one.

“Dammit, Isaac.” You whined in frustration. Why had he taken the wrong one???

You quickly dialed his number, hoping you could reach him before he realized the mix up.

.•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•.

Isaac had just begun to work on the assignment for math, well… he had taken a piece of paper to write on at least.

He took your notebook into his hand, while writing down his name on the paper, and opened it.

It wasn’t until he saw that by skimming through the pages and seeing no solved math problems, or many numbers for that matter, that he realized something was off.

He stopped on a random page and read just a couple of sentences that he thought were going to be one of those weird questions that came with a math problem.

This wasn’t a math problem, this was you describing an embarrassing situation you had been in weeks ago that he could vaguely recall.

He sat upright on his chair instantly when he figured out what the notebook in his hand really was.

“Oh… oh no…” Isaac panicked and the diary fell out of his hands by accident.

Clumsily he fished it up from he ground, it fell again when inches above the ground and this time he picked it up more carefully. He quickly tried to fold the pages back neatly again where they had crumpled from hitting the floor. His eyes fell on a page inside as he tried to fix it’s now messy state. It looked like two lists. It was not a grocery list or something. No.

The first list was titled ‘Bucket list’, where you had named all the things you still wanted to do in life. Some had been scratched off, it brought a smile to his face to see that you had already achieved some of these.

Then he took a quick look at the other list below it.

His mind went blank the second he read the title of the list.

~“All The Things I Love About Isaac”~

He knew he should have closed your diary and not invade your privacy. But his eyes were glued to the list naming everything you apparently loved about him. It even included things he felt insecure about. The last thing you mentioned was how he never gave up, even if things got hard. It looked like you had started to write something else down but stopped before finishing it, making it undecipherable to him.

Only when his phone rang did he snap your diary shut, as if he had just been caught.

When he looked at his phone, your name was lighting up on the screen.

He got ridiculously nervous as he answered the call.

“Y/n, hey, what’s up ?” He cleared his throat.

You sounded just as nervous when you answered, “Hey… uhm… about those notes you borrowed for class? Did you… uhm… did you work on the assignment yet?”

“No!” He answered a bit too quickly, realizing that he could pretend he never looked inside the diary in the first place. “No.. uh I didn’t.”

You let out a sigh of relief, believing that he had not even noticed yet that those were not notes. “Oh, great. Uhm… You took the wrong… notes. Don’t bother looking at them. Could you bring those back… I… I really need them.”

He sighed in relief as well. “Sure thing. No problem. I’ll be right there. Maybe we could work on the assignment together ?”

“That would be nice. See you in a couple of minutes then?” You asked.

“You bet.” Isaac quickly answered.

“Okay, be careful on your way here, alright? It’s dark outside.” You told him.

That was sweet of you to say…

“Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be right over.”

“Alright. See you soon. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The call disconnected and Isaac breathed out deeply.

Even though you seemed to believe that he had not looked at those ‘notes’ yet, he got incredibly nervous. Why would you write a list like that in your diary?

Maybe you knew another ‘Isaac’?

No…. no.

You would have told him if you knew someone else with the same name.

Did you write it because you had feelings for him?

He couldn’t just ask you about it, you would be so mad at him if you found out he did read your diary.

He swallowed hard, he would have to find another way to figure out the truth.

.•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•.

As promised, your doorbell rang not much later and you found Isaac on your doorstep holding a pizza box in his hands. The smell of the warm pizza flowed inside the house the second you opened the door for him.

“I uh… Thought you might want some pizza that doesn’t taste like ashes.” He showed you the box.

“You’re so sweet.” You told him while taking the box from his hands. “I’ll put it on the table so we can share while working on the assignment.”

Isaac was quick to pull the small notebook from the inside of his jacket. “I brought this back, do you want me to put it on your desk?”

You hurried over after putting the pizza down on the table and took your diary from his hands. “I’ll take care of that. Thanks.”

The diary was placed under a big stack of books on your desk and you handed him the notebook that had the notes he had been after.

He didn’t open the notebook until you were both sat at the table, and eating a slice of pizza while working on the assignment together.

An hour had passed and he found it difficult to keep his attention on the assignment. He tried but his eyes always found their way back to you. He should be studying the notes in front of him, but instead he was studying your face. Your eyes, your nose, your lips…

Only when he heard you say the word ‘List’ did he snap out of his thoughts.

“What ?” He asked, panic in his voice.

You repeated what you’d just said, “I said we should make a list with all the stuff we have completed for this assignment so far. It will help us stay organized.”

He swallowed hard, his voice wavering a little when he said, “Sure. Yeah. Great idea. Good plan. Let’s do that.”

You looked back at him, picking up on the strange atmosphere.

“Do you know someone else who’s got my name?” Isaac suddenly asked.

“Huh?” That was a weird question. “No, why?”

“Just curious.” He mumbled a bit.

You blinked twice, narrowing your eyes a little at him, “Isaac, what’s going on with you? You’ve been acting distracted since you arrived here.”

He chuckled nervously and shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing. Nothing’s going on with me. Let’s uh… let’s work on that… list.”

He tried.

He tried so damn hard to not make that word come out differently.

But it did, and in your head it finally clicked.

Now it was you that began to fumble nervously with your pen.

He saw. He saw. He saw…

The words repeated themselves in your head over and over again.

Isaac must have seen the list, he was acting… off.

And the way he had just struggled to say ‘list’ was what set off your alarm bells.

No wonder he was acting strange, he must have read the list in your diary about him.

But…

Surely if he had seen the list, he would have said something about it? Hell, it would have been the perfect opportunity for him to confess his own feelings to you… if he had feelings for you…

But he kept quiet and you swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

Deep down you knew he had seen, he was acting different and you knew him well enough to know he was lying just now.

You wished you had never made that stupid list.

All he could think about was to not let it show that he had read your diary. You would be so angry, maybe even hurt that he had invaded your privacy in such a way.

He couldn’t bring up that list, he didn’t have the guts to tell you that he knew that you liked him as more than just a friend.

There was an uncomfortable silence and he feared that when his voice had broken on the word ‘list’ that he was caught in the lie.

Isaac was fishing for words in his mind, anything to get a normal conversation going again. Anything but this cutting silence between you.

But you were the one that broke the silence.

“It’s getting late. We should stop for today.” You said without looking at him.

A frown graced his face at your words, “You sure ?”

You nodded as you started to gather your things to put them away in your backpack. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

He blinked a few times, feeling that the atmosphere between you had shifted to something… colder.

“Alright… maybe we could watch a movie together now?” His voice betrayed how the situation was making him nervous.

You shook your head and managed to send him a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Sorry, Isaac. I’m… I feel pretty tired.”

It was then that he knew that you just didn’t want him to be there any longer.

He gave a nod, the hopeful smile faded from his face, “Okay then. Are you alright ?”

You evaded his eyes as you nodded and tried to brush it off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Really… just tired. I’ll see you in school tomorrow, right?”

He felt small relief at that, at least you still wanted to see him.

“You bet.” He said.

With that he silently gathered his stuff as well before leaving your place.

On his way home he kept thinking of solutions to make this right again.

Perhaps he should have just told the truth about reading some of your diary. Now you had figured it out yourself and he could sense that it had upset you.

He needed to think of a way to handle this situation before he would have to face you again tomorrow.

.•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•.

The next day, you didn’t see him until you had already taken a seat at your desk in math class. You opened your backpack only to realize your math notebook was missing.

Just then, Isaac walked into class and put the notebook down on your desk before taking seat at his own behind you.

“Thanks.” You whispered to him, even though there were a ton of loose papers now sticking out from between the notebook.

They were all filled with the stuff he had worked on the previous evening beside you.

You went through them for a moment to see if there was anything useful for you as well on them.

One of those sheets of paper caught your attention, at first you thought it was just a paper with some extra notes on it, but then you read what was written on it.

It was a list… about you.

You slowly looked over your shoulder, back to Isaac. If there had been any doubt in your mind that he had put the list there for you to find, it was banished when your eyes found his.

You saw him take a deep breath, saw him reading your expression and then finally he shyly smiled.

A smile that failed to truly hide how nervous and afraid he was.

But that feeling vanished when you send him a bright smile back.

You were practically beaming with joy as you quickly turned your eyes back to the front of the class.

Isaac watched as you carefully folded the list and put the folded paper in your pocket.

Neither of you were able to focus much on the lesson for the rest of the class.

When math class ended, you were out of that classroom fast and waited for him by the door.

He walked out, his own notebook in hand, in search of you.

“I’m sorry for yesterday.” He apologized. “I’m an idiot, I know. I should have said something but I was afraid you’d be upset that I looked inside your diary.”

“How much did you read of it?” You asked him.

Isaac decided to tell the truth. “Just the part about that time you slipped over the wet floor. And those two lists.”

Your face burned, he had truly read the list about him…

“Thank you for telling me the truth now.” You smiled shyly, “And for what you wrote on that list you made about me. No one has ever said such sweet things about me before.”

The list he had made about you was full of praise and compliments. And everything he loved so much about you.

“I forgot to add one more thing on that list.” Isaac quietly said.

You bit your lip in expectation, “What?”

“What I love about you, is you.” He confessed, feeling the nerves crash into him with full force.

Your gaze fell to the floor when feeling how your heart was trying to escape your rib cage.

“And I forgot to add something on my bucket list.” You quietly told him, “Something I want to scratch off of it too.”

“What?” He looked a little confused.

“A kiss from you.” You send him your most alluring smile.

His brow arched in surprise, his mouth fell a little agape. “Oh.”

You laced your fingers in that scarf he had decided to wear, even though it wasn’t cold, and pulled him to your lips.

Isaac’s soft lips caressed yours, you parted only to look him in the eyes, he closed the space between you again instantly.

You were right to write down his lips as one of the things you loved about him.

And so was he to write yours down on the list he had made about you.

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey fic #isaac lahey x reader #teen wolf isaac #teen wolf #tw isaac #isaac

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theorphicangel · 1 year

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫.| 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 (𝐟𝐞𝐦!) 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 |

synopsis: In the span of 3 years, it's crazy how much you can learn about one single person. So much yet so little.

You find yourself realising that with every year there will always be more to learn. Every year offers a new opportunity to grow together.

You soon learn that he has things that are discreetly hidden from you.

And you him.

tags: roommates au, fem!reader, eventual smut, mutual pining, friends to lovers

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲

word count : 4.9k

warnings: drinking, alcohol, drunk! Levi🤨

“Don’t even think about it.”

The warning slipped from your tongue in a haste.

Not even a full minute had passed since emerging from his room and your words were already aimed straight at his throat; piercing his skin like the tip of a knife.

Your intonation held a low and deep vibration throughout the room which almost startled him.

Almost.

You weren’t even looking at him directly.

His steel eyes snap over to your figure on the couch where you sat with your legs curled up like a cat under a fluffy blanket. Two hands held open your new novel, the one that had been on your reading list for god knows how long.

He'd gotten it as a gift for you at Christmas. You guessed it as soon as it caught your eye underneath the tree, one of the very first gifts placed there. It took everything in you to hold back at the temptation to rip at the carefully wrapped present and not jump straight in between the pages.

You held back. For him at least.

Barely two days into the new year and you’ve regretfully almost come to the end of your story. He curses quietly under his breath at noticing this, himself regretful that he hadn’t gotten you the whole book collection instead.

He thought about saving it as a birthday gift instead. Most definitely.

You continued to read on, pulling an oblivious expression with your eyes still glued to the page as you hear him huff in impatience. You knew all too well that if you just looked up to your left, he’d be standing there with his hands placed on his hips and his infamous scowl imprinted on his face in pure frustration.

A smile played along your lips at how easily you could rile him up. Too easily.

“You even touch that Christmas tree and I’ll take away your present.” you forewarned, fingers turning the feather-light page, eyes already jumping to the next sentence.

The Christmas lights that were wrapped around the tree blinked furiously in the corner of the living room, the large golden star at the peak of the tree heavily loomed over to one side, threatening to topple over due to its weight.

He’ll never forget how you had coerced him into helping you set it up. And you’ll never forget the comical-like way in which his eyes widened at the sight of you returning back to the apartment with a large cardboard box in your hands.

“It was a sale, I couldn’t resist.” were your words of defense, consciously aware that it was still early November at that time.

Despite your protests, he brutally ignored your excuses, instead babbling mutters of discontent as you made him walk in circles around the tree to wrap the tinsel.

“Stupid.” he remembers mumbling, feeling himself become increasingly irritated at the lone strands of tinsel that fell onto your carpet, which he would now have to go to the effort of hoovering once the two of you were done.

Switching on the bright lights—that you had definitely spent way too much money on—they powerfully illuminated the room, the festive colors of red and green bouncing off your white walls. The electricity bill for that month was indefinitely set to soar.

Regardless of Levi’s annual duplication of the Grinch, he couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of satisfaction at your glowing smile in reaction to the tree and after what felt like hours decorating, you finally won against your need for perfection. You stretched out your hands in front of him proudly, a beaming smile stretching across your lips with an exclamation of, “Happy birthday!”

He scoffed at you, his mind no where near the idea of his birthday. You knew how much he dreaded it each year, coming to the sudden realization that he was getting one year older.

Or one year closer to death as he would say which would earn a light slap on the arm from you for ruining the so-called “Christmas spirit.”

You introduced him to all the traditions of the holiday; something abnormal to him, having never experienced this during his childhood. A few years before and he would’ve never even given a second thought about the holiday.

The only thing that he does remember from his childhood is the long anticipation of receiving a present from his mother, one that she had saved up for all year to be able to give him.

He appreciated them all, no matter how small or bare, he was always grateful. Unlike the other kids who’d grown up spoiled, flaunting their gifts as soon as it was the return back to school after the holidays.

Was he envious of what other kids had growing up? Yes, of course, what kid wouldn’t be?

But, now having grown up he’d come to realize that he was deeply satisfied to have the more important things in life, like the close memories of his mother. He was more thankful to have spent time with her rather than receiving a bunch of toys he would soon grow out of.

Especially since people can suddenly be taken away from you in a blink of an eye.

But celebrating also helped you too, he’d learnt that moving away from your family to a new city by yourself wasn’t easy and with the guilt of the first christmas that he had spent with you, from then on he’d make sure that he'll put in all his effort.

Even if the whole day shortened his lifespan in the process.

Now standing in front of the glowing tree, Levi didn’t have to turn around to witness the grin on your face. He’d already heard it through your threat.

If there was one thing he learned about you throughout all these years, it was that you always kept to your word.

“It’s fucking January,” he remarked, “Christmas is over.”

You shook your head, “Nuh-huh Mister Scrooge, it’s still the holiday if I remember clearly.”

He snorted out loud, “Barely.”

“You’re just mad that you’re going back to work earlier than me.” you noted and again your mind can picture a crease between his brows at your blunt reminder.

“Whatever.” he muttered, sulking his way over to you without any further debate.

You felt the couch shifted a little under his weight, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

Finally, you glanced up from your book to observe the figure sat adjacent from you.

You caught him mid-yawn, his hair uncharacteristically disheveled, raven locks astray, but one thing that predominantly stood out towards you was how well-rested he looked, his face slightly puffy from sleep and eyes full of energy, no evidence of dark circles under them. You felt content at this sight and it was more than obvious by the way you studied him.

“What?” he said bashfully, suspicious of your observation of him.

“Are you still hungover?” you ask, distracting him. You were annoyed that he caught on regardless of your obvious stare.

He rolled his eyes as your question. Pulling out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants, he deliberately ignored your question.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” you murmur, eyes returning back to your place in your book.

A wave of silence filled the room, no further conversation made between the two of you. It was a comfortable silence, one that the two of you have gotten well adjusted to for the past three years, more than comfortable in each other’s presence.

Then, after a minute or two of silence, his lips parted to defend himself after some deep thought.

“I’m not hungover.”

You hum quietly, the sound of paper flicking as your fingers turn the page, not seeming bothered by his answer.

You recall back to New Year’s day, returning home with Levi from Erwin’s annual New Year party. Erwin was polite enough to offer that two of you should stay the night but you remember clearly how he kept whining about wanting to go home. With you.

In your three years of living with Levi, you’ve barely–no, rarely, seen him drunk. You didn’t know what was really up with him at Erwin’s, just the fact that as soon as you stepped into his apartment, he couldn’t stop throwing back the drinks. It was very incongruous to the usual Levi that you knew.

Unless he had something on his mind. You figured it was just the post-birthday emotions hitting him. He never went into detail but you were smart enough to assume that this time of the year was always tough for him.

As a result, you had to carry him home. His heavy, dead-like arm wrapped around your neck with the majority of his body weight pushed up against you for support, making your thirty minute walk home looking to take around an hour.

“Fucking hell, Levi.” you swore, your footsteps echoing against the stone pavements, the sound ricocheting off the concrete walls of the giant buildings that loomed above you.

His own steps lingered–irregular and clumsy–as he relied on you for total support. It was nearly four in the morning and groups of people were still out in the city, alive as ever, still drunk off a new year high. You could tell by the fireworks being set off irregularly that the celebrations had yet to finish, also not missing how Levi’s body flinched at the sudden sound of fireworks nearby, rising up into the sky, illuminating for a few seconds before disappearing into colorful clouds of smoke.

Of course, you couldn’t avoid interactions with large groups of drunk strangers wishing you a slurred happy new year from across the street. You gave a friendly smile back and wished them the same back, the same couldn’t be said for Levi, drunkenly sending death glares as his own response.

But it wasn’t until you walked past a certain group of strangers, that consisted mainly of guys, that he really grew hostile.

“Did you-did you see tha’?” he blurted out, stumbling in absolute defeat.

“See what?” you asked, focusing your eyes on his face and not missing the glow that the streetlights created upon his face.

“The way that guy looked at-” he paused, taking a breath, probably to hold down the bile rising in his throat. “You.”

He finished in a dangerous tone. It sounded unnatural even for him.

“No, I didn’t see that Levi, they’re drunk.”

“Drunk bastards.” he cursed, losing his balance momentarily until you held him upright again.

You hold back a chuckle, “And you’re one of them.”

“M’not drunk.” he debated, his lips turning into a pout.

“Okay,” you said, an idea popping in your head, “Stand by yourself then.” You pause in your steps and remove his arm from around your neck. In this separation, the warmth of your body is quickly replaced by the chill of the winter wind.

You’ve paused purposely by a lamppost to hopefully make it easier for him to navigate. You stand away from him, only a few meters, next to the hovering streetlight.

“You good?” you ask, raising a brow at his state.

His eyes are drooping a little, full of fatigue and obviously intoxicated. His body sways a little, side to side and his dark locks flutter a little in the almost icy winter wind. You don’t miss how pink and tinted his cheeks are, especially under the glow of the streetlight.

Little puffs of vapor escape from his mouth now visible in the cold winter air but disappear quicker than you can blink.

Vapor escapes from your own mouth as you observe him, “You’re swaying Lee’, that’s cheating.”

His eyes are now fully closed and a part of you is slightly concerned that he’ll topple over at any moment; just one light tap on his shoulder and he’ll end up face planting the stone pavement.

“M’completely–” he pauses again taking in a shaky inhale,“Fine.”

He scrunches his eyes before he attempts to walk and at an incredibly slow pace, his shoes scuffing the pavement. He barely moves an inch before opening his eyes again.

He looks around wearily, a dazed expression on his face.

“Did I get far?” he mumbles, his lips puffy and pouting.

Adorable.

You can’t attempt to hide your grin any longer, “C’mon you idiot, let’s go home.”

“You’re the idiot, idiot.” he grumbled back, immediately falling to your side, his arm wrapping perfectly over your neck.

You nodded,”Yeah yeah, thank you.”

And if it wasn’t enough to drag his ass home, you also had to get him up to your shared apartment.

“One step lee’, almost there.” your voice strained under the weight of holding Levi upright as he reached the second floor. One down, thirteen more to go.

And to think that out of all fucking days, tonight had to be the night that the elevator was out of order. The universe couldn’t even wait a day into the new year before testing your patience.

Your arm was wrapped securely around his waist, fingers digging into his shirt as you pulled him up the stairs. Sweat dripped down your back, your warm winter coat doing its job too well as an insulator.

“Are-are—we almost there?” He slurred, almost falling as he did so and your free hand suddenly clasped onto the railing to steady yourself. If he falls, you’re certain you’ll go down with him.

Now you sort of understand why he gets so annoyed when he has to pick you up from a night out, especially if he had to do this every time with you. The only difference is you're more of a mess. By far.

And with that taking longer than it should’ve, you finally come to a standstill at your apartment door. Your hand delves into your coat pocket, fingers searching through crumples of old receipts and tissue for your keys, it doesn’t take long for that sweet metallic jingle to reach your ears.

Levi stood next to you in silence. He was rather quiet during the final climb up the last floor. You brought it down to his exhaustion and post drunk clarity finally hitting him, a feeling you know all too well and despise deeply.

The jingle of your keys echoes down the empty hallway as you turn the lock, opening the door to a sea of darkness. You follow through first finding the light switch and Levi trails in after, shutting the door. Your back hits the wall of the hallway with relief and fatigue, you couldn’t wait to get to your bed.

But first… you had Mr grumpy to deal with.

Slipping off your coat and your shoes, you address him with an exhale noticing how he’s remained still the entire time, staring into the abyss.

“C’mon Lee’ let’s get you to bed.”

He makes no response, already trailing into his room without debate. Before you follow, you grab a glass of water for him during the night.

You find Levi sat on his neatly made bed, only completed with the task of removing his shoes. His dark locks look even more disheveled.

“C’mon,” you coo, placing down the cup on his neat bedside table. There’s only a radio that sits on the counter, its red digits reading, 4:23 am. Your hand pulls back the covers as Levi stands and he makes his way to lay down immediately but the touch of your hand meets his bicep.

“Change first.”

A light whine came out his throat, before he could even stop himself. If he were sober enough to care he’d cringe but he steps back following your instruction.

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” you state, “you don’t wanna sleep in those clothes, trust me.” You speak merely from experience, you know first hand that it’s not the best way to start the morning after a night out.

You go to leave the room to give him privacy before a soft utterance stops you from doing so.

“Stay.”

A hum leaves your throat in confusion. He watches you apprehensively, whole body rigid with his fists curled up by his side.

His mouth is snapped shut almost as if he regrets the previous words that come out of his mouth, you’re about to put it down to the state of him being intoxicated before he pleads again.

“You don’t have to leave.”

You remain unmoving with your mind still not sure of what to say apart from a simple, “Okay.”

You do turn around though, in an attempt to give him space whilst you try to find some clothes for him to sleep with.

“First drawer.” he says, nodding his head to the direction of his bedroom cabinet.

He slips off his slacks, stepping out of the material in slow movements. The clink of his belt carries a heavy tone and ends up with a loud clang on the floor.

You find gray sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt and as you turn, you find Levi half way in pulling off his own shirt before dropping it carelessly to the ground, too exhausted to pick up it and fold the material.

You try not to let your eyes linger too much on his body, particularly on the muscular tone of his stomach, a dark trail leading down to his lower abdomen as he stands solely in his boxers.

You awkwardly avert your eyes to the floor as you hand him his clothes, your cheeks burning up.

He dresses in silence, brushing a hand over his locks which in the process lifts up his shirt, revealing another little peak of his lower abdomen. In an attempt to distract your mind, you pick up his clothes without hesitation, hands already going to fold them methodically.

“I can do that tomorrow-” he starts, mouth open in protest at your help. You’ve already helped him enough. Too much.

“It’s alright, I’ll put them in the basket,” you say, folding up his stained t-shirt and pants, removing the belt before you fold up the latter.

His exhausted eyes linger over your face as he sits in silence on the edge of the bed, watching you complete the task.

You can feel his eyes bore into you. Purposely, you avoid his gaze, instead focused on the task at hand. “Thanks.” he utters, quietly, once you’ve finished.

You half shrug, “S’’nothing.” You know that he would do the same for you, Levi’s the type of guy to without you even asking so it’s only fair that you do the same.

“I’d give you painkillers, but you shouldn’t take them after drinking.” you say, nodding over to the glass of water that sits on the bedside table.

He nods wordlessly, “Thanks.”

You’re about to turn to leave, grabbing the pile of his folded clothes on the edge of his bed to place in the laundry basket. Your figure is about halfway into leaving the room before his voice stops you again.

“Do you mind staying–just for a little bit?” he speaks up, timidly. Levi still sits at the edge of his bed, and there’s a nervous manner in his body language that you don’t usually see. Tufts of raven hair are stuck to his forehead, his eyes wordlessly pleading you with his gaze.

It’s a tempting offer.

His eyes linger over your face, watching as you hesitate for a moment and for a second he regrets asking you at all, he’s just about to say never mind before you interrupt.

“Sure.”

Walking over, he shuffles over to the other side, silently observing you get underneath his covers. The scent of your laundry detergent—one that Levi religiously insists on buying—fills your nostrils as well as the faint smell of alcohol from him.

Your mind is too aware of the close proximity, the air from his lungs meets your bare neck and for once, out of three years of living together, the silence of it all scares you.

You clear your throat awkwardly, your heart loudly thumping in your ears.

“Did you enjoy tonight then?” you ask, your voice almost breaking as you did. Never would you have expected to be in this predicament. Laying in your roommate’s bed.

You hear a light scoff come from him. “As much as a new year’s party can be.”

You want to ponder on what made him want to drink so much in the first place, knowing his particular distaste for alcohol. But your lips remain shut making the assumption that he—like everyone else—wanted to mark off the end of the year and either way, you’re glad you remained sober tonight even if you weren’t planning to. At least one of you had to be responsible for getting home.

“You should get some sleep Lee.” you suggest, propping your elbow up and resting your head in the palm of your hand.

He lets out a deep hum in response.

To be honest, Levi was still thinking about his behavior tonight, his steel eyes observing your shadow through the darkness. A pit of anxiety stabbed at his lower abdomen, flashbacks popped up in his mind here and there of his behavior. His hand rubbed his forehead, a headache already forming in his skull.

If he could take it all back, he fucking would.

“Sorry.” he mumbles, silently dreading what tomorrow’s hangover would bring.

“For what?” you ponder, curiosity in your tone.

“Making you drag me back here.” he lets out a sigh, “We should’ve just stayed with Erwin.”

“It’s fine.” you reassured, “You’ve done this way too many times for me.”

“Not out of free will.” he joked. A low, natural hum played in the background, the natural vibration of the apartment alongside the outside noise of distant fireworks continuing the arrival of the new year.

“You got a new year’s resolution?” you ask, fingers skimming over the soft, fresh duvet covers.

Levi held back another scoff. Personally, he found that shit so stupid.

He would always remember how Hange would create thirty new resolutions each coming year and yet when December 31st they’d only have completed four by the end of it.

“No.” he states, “What about you?” he’s still slurring slightly, but you can tell the alcohol is starting to wear off especially as his body grows with more weariness and his question is finished off with a yawn.

You hesitate slightly out of embarrassment, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he repeats, his tone holding a subtle teasing tone which releases some of the awkward tension in the room.

“I don’t know,”’ you admit shyly, fiddling with your fingers underneath the covers, becoming too comfortable under the covers. You’re going to find it hard to leave soon.

“Well, what is it that you want to do?”

You shug, despite Levi not being able to see you. “It was just a thought, I don’t think it’ll make a good resolution.”

“What is it?” he asks again, gently pushing for an answer.

You let out a sigh, “I just want to get more work done, y’know develop my career and try to push into more opportunities?” you reveal, slightly shy.

“You’re already doing that.”

“Really?” You hummed in disbelief, “I feel like I haven’t worked as hard in the last year like I usually do.”

Levi’s words are now mumbled, falling captive to the power of sleep, “You’re one of–” he yawns again, “the–most hardworking people I know, if anything, your resolution should be to relax more.”

You let out a snort, “Coming from the man who eats, sleeps and breathes in front of a white screen sending emails.”

He scoffs in response,”Well, when you have a shitload of new interns to supervise on a daily basis who constantly ask you stupid questions ninety nine percent of the time, you barely know the meaning of rest.”

“You’re hard working too, Lee.’” you say, “You don’t realize it, but I honestly–I aspire to be like you. You’re always so calm and even when things ‘Go to shit.’” You curl up your fingers to air quote his own words,”You always handle it well.”

Your throat grows thick and you pause to swallow before speaking again, “If anything you should be taking your own advice this year.”

You can’t see due to the darkness of the room and for once Levi is grateful as fuck. With the mix of alcohol and the compliment from you, his heart pounds at a million miles per hour right now.

‘I aspire to be like you.’ You might as well have tattooed those words right above his fucking heart in the sense that your comment will stay permanent in his mind forever.

He’s definitely sure that his cheeks are a burning red from your comment, his mind running on pure elation.

He clears his throat nervously trying not to seem obvious that your words had deeply impacted him.

“I’ll die before that ever happens.” he grumbles and you poke him in the side in annoyance.

“Now that I’ve told you mine,” you say, “What’s yours?”

His face scrunches up, thrown off guard by your sudden question. It takes him a while to think before coming up with a definite answer for you.

He lets out an exhale, his heart almost heavy as he admits it to you.

“Not to take anyone for granted. Anymore.”

You remain silent, hearing it clear in his voice the remorse behind it. Your own heart aches, your limbs almost tempted to reach out to comfort him in a way, to try and understand the sorrow that he holds. Over the past three years, there’s always been allusions to it but you’ve never asked explicitly. It’s not your place to.

After a period of silence he clears his throat, “So–” he begins, “Let’s make a deal.”

Your eyebrows quirk up in curiosity as Levi continues.

“You will promise not to overwork yourself this year and I–” he hesitates, “I’ll not take anyone for granted.”

“And don't overwork yourself too.” you add on to the end.

He clenches his jaw, that wasn’t something he thought about agreeing to but…fuck it.

“Fine.” he says exasperatedly, “I won’t overwork myself…I mean–I’ll try.”

“That’s good enough.” you declare, “It’s a deal then.”

“Deal.”

You don’t remember much of the conversation past that point apart from listening to him complain about the new interns and the annual Christmas office party.

He makes a suggestion for you to come with him next time to which you respond with a “maybe.” It’s not much but it’s enough to set his hopes up, an unfamiliar, warm feeling in his limbs. He tells himself it’s the after effects of the alcohol, unknown that you too, are silently experiencing the same effects.

Somewhere along that point, you fall asleep, your body only jolting awake a few hours later. Already, the sunlight peaks through, illuminating the room that was pitch dark just a few hours ago.

Your eyes were blurry, your body aching and overstimulated with heat as your clothes stuck your skin. You rubbed your eyes in an attempt to adjust to the new lighting of the room.

Coming to your senses, you notice the feeling of a heavy limb wrapped over your torso, keeping you tightly secured in place. Only then you realize that you’re not in your own bed.

A head of jet black hair beside you makes you fall back into reality. Shit.

Levi’s arm is wrapped around your waist, tightly, and his head positioned near your shoulder. Light snores escape from his mouth, they’re so quiet you can barely hear them. You can feel his chest expand and deflate against your back, it feels so snug and so…right.

Too right.

Without warning your mind panics, desperate to find a way to get out. His presence was too intoxicating for you to even comprehend your own thoughts.

You shuffle slowly, attempting to get out of his grip in a way as not to disturb him. Your plan to be discreet fails in pure vain as a light groan is heard near your ear.

“Levi.” you whisper, sensing that his body is beginning to come alive, ever so slowly.

It takes a while for him to become aware of his position and remove his hand away. Almost immediately, you notice the growing distance between the two of you as he pulls away.

And all of a sudden you hate it. The iciness that your body feels as he pulls away, your brain almost lulling you to return to him, pull him back and close the distance between the two of you.

Ignoring your painful isolation, you sit up and stretch your aching legs before unwrapping yourself from the covers.

“Sorry,” you mumble,”I must’ve fallen asleep.”

There’s no response as he’s turned away from you, the back of his raven hair the only thing you see.

You don’t even know if he’s awake. You make the assumption that he’s not based on the fact that he doesn’t really say anything to you as you exit his room, the unspoken tension thick and awakened between the two of you.

Since then, not much has been impacted between the two of you although you both actively avoid discussing what happened that morning.

It’s not awkward but more so that the tension between the two of you has shifted ever so slightly.

“You better not touch the decorations either way.” you state after a long period of silence, flipping the next page of your novel.

Levi clicks his tongue in faux annoyance.

To you, you think that you’ve successfully won him over. But in reality…

he doesn’t really care if they stay up for the rest of the year or if you’re planning to take them all down tomorrow.

For long as you’re here; you can make up the rules

if you’d like to be tagged let me know !

#lover.#angel writes #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi attack on titan #attack on titan #levi x reader #aot x reader #levi x you #levi x reader fluff #aot fluff

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kairiscorner · 1 year

Note

I absolutely LOVE your Miggy fics, they make me wanna tear the screen open and eat them

ANYWAYS, I was wondering if you could do a shy!reader and just a really cuddly Miguel? Like reader could come home from a bad day and Miguel just swoops them up and cuddles them on the couch or in bed. THANKS, UR THE BEST KAHSDGBKAJJJE

- The 🐢 anon

˗ˏˋ ✮ kairi's AUtober !

double feature 3: a big teddy bear of a man; cuddly miguel o'hara a/n: AAAAAAAAAAAAA TY LOVELY, and no, YOU are the best <333 THIS IMAGINE IS SO LOVELY WTF, i wanna eat and marry it all at once. hoping u like this !!!!!

it was always a pain for you to think of conveniencing others, you learned how to live most of your life sneaking away from others and just dealing your problems all on your own; but when you'd come home to your partner, miguel, oh, he'd immediately offer his help and himself to all of you just to make your day a bit brighter. he isn't the smartest nor keenest when it comes to his own emotions and others' emotions—but he was always one to be concerned about practically everything about you if he found out something was bothering you or you weren't feeling alright. miguel knew that you had the tendency to shut people out or to shut yourself away from everyone else, but today, he was going to put an end to you brushing your problems under the rug. when he asked you when you got home how was work, and you took too long to answer him because you desperately wished to tell him the truth, you also didn't want him to worry and contemplated on the thought of lying to him about it.

he wasted no time and gently wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground effortlessly; you yelped in surprise, not expecting miguel to carry you all of a sudden. you told him to put you down, that it was okay, you totally didn't have one of the most exhausting days of your life at work—totally! but miguel wasn't buying it and gently set you down on the bed and curled up next to you, wrapping his sculpted arms around you again as if he knew you were going to escape him yet again. "mi tesoro... please look at me, amor." he begged of you in a soft voice, trying to hide the concern in his tone but failing miserably. you turned on your side to see his once hardened, distant expression transform into one of longing; his big, brown eyes brightening up as you did.

he ran the pad of his thumb over your cheek and sighed. "if you're ever struggling, please just... don't be scared to tell me everything. i might not have all the solutions, but i want to be your refuge. can i maybe... hug the hurt, fatigue, sadness—all those negative, confusing feelings away? it's the least i can do for mi dulce amor." he mutters as he takes your hand in his, interlocking fingers with you, moving in closer with you as his nose touches yours, his lips mere centimeters away from your own. you nodded and told him you'd try, and that he could touch you; with miguel, in his haste, pressing his lips against yours as he embraced your smaller frame. his lips lingered on your for a few more seconds, until he finally pulled away and held you tighter and closer. "i would stay like this with you forever, if the multiverse would only let me... i take away all that bad stuff you've had to deal with and just... make everything okay, not just feel okay. because i love you..." he told you as he kissed the tip of your nose and buried his face in the crook of your neck, relishing this moment with you, and savoring it even more as he felt your soft, littler hands around his waist. he tensed up at first, but succumbed to your touch and sighed, expressing in a million ways and touches that he truly loved you and wants nothing more than an eternity of peace and loving with you and only you.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

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unpredictable-probabilities · 4 months

Text

Immortalized

Summary:

During a museum visit, Dream tells Hob the story of two star-crossed lovers in a painting and what it means to him.

Word Count: 3,055

Notes:

For Dreamling Week Day 3: Painting

[Read on AO3]

---

“Would you recognize everything in here?” Hob asked as they leisurely walked around the gallery. “Do you somehow sense every artwork before they’re made?”

“Not always,” Dream replied, looking at the paintings they passed by. “If I do not make a conscious effort to see into a daydream, I do not perceive them unless they are particularly vivid.”

Hob had chosen a museum this week for their meeting, remembering what Dream said last time about wanting to see more of the city as a human would. Not much in museums could surprise Hob, and he was curious to know how Dream would feel about the place.

“Oh good, I was afraid you’d find it boring here,” Hob said playfully. He didn’t really think Dream would get bored in a museum; he knew that his friend was more interested in learning about humans now than back then. Still, it was always a little intimidating when it was his turn to choose a meeting place. He had seen the Dreaming, and it was hard to think of what could match up to the things that Dream created regularly.

“Museums are never a bore; humans are unceasingly interesting. You have taught me that.” Dream said the words with such casual sincerity, and Hob couldn't help but smile at how comfortable his friend was now at expressing sentiments.

“In addition, it is fascinating to see works of art gathered in one place. One creation can inspire another, which can transcend mediums. This painting, for example.” Dream stopped in front of a painting that depicted a man stabbed through with a sword lying under a tree. A woman was standing above him and appeared to fall on the sword herself.

“This is only one version of the many paintings that are derived from the original written tale. Apart from the visual works, plays and other stories have also been adapted from it.”

Hob read the caption beside it, indicating that the title of the piece was Pyramus and Thisbe and it was made by an Italian artist named Pietro Bianchi in the 18th century.

“What’s the original story about? I don’t think I’d been paying attention to art much during that time.” Hob kept his tone casual, but he never liked remembering what he was like in that century, and Dream must have sensed his discomfort somehow.

“You are not that man anymore, Hob Gadling,” Dream said gently.

Hob nodded and gave a small smile. He wanted to kick himself for potentially bringing the mood down during what was supposed to be a fun day, but Dream didn’t seem to mind as he turned to look at the painting again.

Dream began the story in his even baritone.

“Pyramus and Thisbe were lovers, but their families had a bitter rivalry. Despite their circumstances, they found a way to communicate through a crack in the wall. One day, they decided to elope, and arranged to meet at the base of a mulberry tree. Thisbe arrived first. While she waited, a lioness approached to get a drink from the nearby source of water. The beast looked fearsome, as it still had blood on its jaws from a fresh hunt, and Thisbe ran away to hide in a cave, dropping her veil in her haste.

The lioness came across the veil, and chewed on it for a time before leaving it mangled and bloody. Then Pyramus arrived. He recognized the veil as belonging to his lover, and fell into despair as he mistook the sight to mean that Thisbe had been killed. He cursed himself for not arriving sooner to protect her. He kissed the veil, before drawing his sword and plunging it into his body and drawing it back out. Thisbe returned from her hiding place, hoping to warn her lover of the lioness. She saw his dying form and called out his name. Pyramus opened his eyes and saw his beloved just before the last of his breath left him.

Thisbe tore at her hair and cried and embraced the body, but there was nothing to be done. She saw the bloody veil and sword, and understood what had happened. She spoke a vehement wish to the gods and their feuding parents to have them lie in the same tomb, for not even death could part them. She kissed her lover’s cold lips, and felled herself on the same sword that took his life, still warm with his blood.

The gods felt moved by her prayers, and honoured their memory by permanently making the fruits of the mulberry tree a shade of crimson, which had been previously white but had been coloured by the spray of their blood. Thisbe’s wish of their remains being together was granted, and their ashes were laid to rest in the same urn.”

Hob kept staring at Dream for several seconds before realising that the story was over. Dream’s voice was calm for the entire retelling, and held an engaging timber that kept Hob entranced even when he was done speaking.

Hob blinked a few times and turned to look at the painting again. “Bloody hell. I mean, I know the classics are chock-full of tragedies but… Wait, were they real?” he asked Dream. “Pyramus and Thisbe. Because you’ve told me that some people in the myths actually existed back then.”

Dream shook his head. “They are entirely fictional, though their circumstances are far from unheard of. Humans have had rivalries countless times throughout the ages, and have experienced love and its complications even more often. That is why such stories are timeless. From what I gather, such tragic misunderstandings are a prevalent theme in the most well-known stories in this century.”

“Yeah, like Romeo and Juliet,” Hob said without thinking. “Hang on, Shakespeare’s play is derived from this story?”

“Indeed.”

“Well, no wonder you picked this painting to explain. Your favourite playwright adapted it.” Hob narrowed his eyes in mock distaste.

Dream frowned. “I have never said that he is my favourite playwright.”

“Oh, so you personally visit and talk to every artist you like and Shaxberd wasn't an exception?” Hob wasn't really upset about the whole thing anymore, but it had become a sort of inside joke for them and it was always endearing to see Dream’s reactions whenever he brought it up.

Dream gave him a look that was probably meant to look unimpressed but Hob recognized as fond. “I do not understand why you are still—how would today's children say it—salty about him.”

Hob loved it whenever Dream deliberately used modern slang in their banters—hearing his velvet voice was impossibly endearing—but he suppressed a smile. “Maybe if you didn’t ditch me to go hang out with that guy, I wouldn’t be,”

Dream glanced at the ceiling in his version of an eyeroll, matching Hob’s playfulness. “You are the guy I am hanging out with now, are you not?”

Hob grinned. “Damn right, I am. Every week for the past three months. Are you saying I’m your favourite, after all?” he teased.

Dream stared at him for several seconds before answering. “Yes.”

Hob’s grin slowly melted off his face. He had expected a vague response or maybe a proper eyeroll, not Dream looking at him with a gaze that pinned him to place and made something flutter in his chest.

“It is because of you, Hob Gadling, that you and I avoided a tragedy similar to that of Pyramus and Thisbe. Unlike Pyramus, you did not assume the worst of my absence. You waited for me. Even when my own subjects did not.” Dream’s voice grew quieter. “Even after I had been cruel to you.”

“Hey, none of that,” Hob quickly said. “You’ve already apologised about 1889 and more than made up for it. You’re not that man anymore, Dream,” he said pointedly, repeating his friend’s words from earlier.

The soft smile that lifted the corners of Dream’s lips outshone everything else in that gallery, and Hob felt himself smiling back.

“You are a good friend, Hob Gadling. I can only hope to deserve such loyalty.”

“You already deserve it, Dream. And you’ll always have it.”

“As you shall have mine.” Dream stepped closer, his voice a soft rumble that sent goosebumps across Hob’s skin. He glanced at the painting again. “They had arranged to meet at the base of the mulberry tree, and when one of them arrived later, it spelled the end for them.” He returned his gaze to Hob. “But you, Hob Gadling…”

Hob swallowed, unable to look away from the intensity of Dream’s eyes.

“Nothing would deter you. Our place of meeting had closed down, and you simply built another. Even without knowing whether I would still come back.”

“I always knew you would come back,” Hob said softly. “And I wanted to be there when you did.”

Dream took another step closer, and Hob could feel his heart race in anticipation. “There have been countless stories of people torn apart by time and misunderstandings. But because of you, such a fate did not befall us. I needed you to know how important that is to me. How important you are. To me.”

“Dream…” Hob breathed. He felt like he could topple over at any moment. When Dream first showed up at the Inn, it felt like the sun coming out after a harsh winter. When Dream kept showing up, week after week, Hob felt much more alive than he ever did before, and he didn’t dare ask for anything else.

And now Dream was just saying all these things to him, on a random Saturday afternoon, reaching into his most secret hopes and lighting him up from the inside.

“That is why I chose this painting to talk about. Why I am choosing you. Now. If you will have me.”

“If— Wh— Dream—” Hob stuttered, six centuries of emotions rising up within him all at once.

“My heart is yours, Hob Gadling. To do with as you wish.” Dream spoke quietly, his expression soft and open and with an adoration that Hob never thought would be directed at him.

“You…” Hob grabbed the front of Dream’s coat with both hands and leaned his forehead against Dream’s shoulder, taking deep breaths to calm himself. “How could you do this to me right now…”

He had been so careful, keeping a hold on his self-control every week after the next. But now everything came rushing back to the forefront of his mind. Everything he had ever wanted with Dream, what he wanted to do with Dream—

“Hob. I am afraid I cannot hold you here as you wish for me to do.”

Hob's eyes widened and he jumped back, letting go of Dreams' coat. “Shit, I forgot you can see daydreams. Sorry, I…” he trailed off when he saw Dream’s playful smile.

Dream leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. “I am not allowed to touch you. The sign at the door clearly prohibits touching the masterpieces.”

Hob's face burned. Thoughts raced through his head faster than he could track. “Take me somewhere else, then,” he managed to choke out.

The mirth on Dream's face disappeared, replaced by an expression of want so palpable that Hob wanted to dive in and taste it.

Dream’s eyes turned into galaxies. He grabbed Hob's wrist and in the next instant Hob felt himself pressed back against a tree, Dream’s mouth descending on his.

Hob could only arch into the touch, his hands finding their way into Dream’s hair, pulling him closer.

Their kisses burned with centuries of longing, the yearning to be even closer with every passing second, chasing after the heat of finally being together, and Hob was all too happy to let it consume him.

Dream’s tongue slid against his and he groaned, gripping the back of Dream’s neck to keep him in place, not intending to let him go for as long as humanly possible.

Time stopped making sense. Hob didn't know or care how long he'd been pressed against Dream, and when he broke the kiss it was only because words began rushing out of him beyond his control.

“I'm yours, Dream,” he panted. “My heart. Everything. Anything you want.”

Dream pressed his forehead against Hob’s, catching his breath. And it nearly drove Hob mad to realise that he was the reason for it, that he affected Dream enough to the point of breathing. “You are…. everything I want.”

They held each other like that, in the warm quiet moment when words were no longer needed.

Then Hob noticed that the leaves of the tree that shaded them were gold, and the clouds passing by were a glimmering silver against a backdrop of a pale indigo sky.

“Are we in the Dreaming?” Hob asked in surprise, only now recognizing the familiar feeling of being in Dream’s realm.

“Indeed. I did not want to be interrupted.”

“Wait, then where's my body? I'm not passed out in the museum, am I?” Though Hob wouldn't really mind either way. It'd be well worth it.

“Your body is safe in your own bedroom. We took a short detour before coming here.”

Hob blinked. “I'd say you move fast, but I'd been waiting for this for a long time.” He smiled and caressed Dream’s face, running his thumb over a pale cheekbone.

“Then wait no longer, my beloved. You have me now.”

Those words seemed to spark something inside Hob, and heat pooled low in his gut. His hands held firm on Dream's shoulders.

“You know, I have no rules in my bedroom against touching me.”

There was a rumble in Dream’s chest that only stoked the fires threatening to consume Hob, and he could practically feel his own pupils dilating.

“Hob Gadling.” Dream said the words like a promise.

Hob felt himself return to his body, and he only had time to register the feel of his mattress against his back before Dream was upon him again.

***

“How're the crêpes?” Hob asked after taking a bite of his waffle.

“The flavour of the fruit mixed with the chocolate syrup is a good combination; I can understand the appeal. Though I still prefer the food at The New Inn.”

Hob chuckled. “I think you might be biased, love.”

The corner of Dream’s mouth lifted. “Perhaps.”

Hob grinned and allowed himself to feel smug about that. “But seriously, though, this is a good place,” he looked around.

Dream had chosen a café this week. Nothing fancy, but it had a very homey feel, and there was currently an art exhibit going on as part of their marketing. Paintings hung on the walls, and small sculptures lined the tables on one side.

“Since we looked at well-known classics last time, I thought it would be fitting to view works by today's artists. These are the new stories.”

Hob smiled. There was such high regard in Dream's voice, and he hoped those artists could somehow sense how proud the Prince of Stories was of them.

Hob paid more attention to the artworks, which was easier now that there were fewer people than when they first came in. A particular piece on the wall across from their table caught his attention; it was an oil painting of a sunny park where people were lounging in, but the trees had gold leaves, and the sky was a pale indigo with silver clouds.

Hob frowned and went over to the painting, his eyes landing on two people on the left. They were painted from the side, one was leaning against a tree and the other stood pressed against him, wearing a long black coat. They were definitely snogging.

“Dream—” Hob turned around to see Dream standing right behind him with a knowing smile. “Did you transport us to some poor bloke's dream last week?” he asked incredulously, keeping his voice down.

“Not exactly. At the time, I did not have a specific area of the Dreaming in mind. I simply wanted us to be somewhere private. But dreamers roam around my realm with a certain degree of freedom, and a handful of them were in the same place as we were. Most of them forget the details of their dreams upon waking up, but this particular artist had been hoping for inspiration, an idea to paint for this event. And I believed it would be a kindness to help him remember the details of his particular dream a little more vividly than the others.”

“A kindness, really?” Hob raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile from the ridiculous stunt that his deity of a boyfriend just pulled.

“Yes.” Dream spoke evenly, but there was a gleam in his eye that Hob knew all too well.

Hob looked back at the painting and made a face at how his figure was drawn from such an awkward angle.

“I look terrible,” he complained.

“I look worse.”

Hob turned to him and was about to say that Dream didn't look bad in the painting at all, but something about the tone of Dream’s voice and his playful smirk sparked a memory.

“Is that meant to be me?” Hob looked down at the drawing that Lady Constantine placed at their table. “I look terrible.” He glanced at Dream. “You look worse.”

Hob chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. “Finally realised I was flirting then? Took you long enough.”

“Hm.” Dream hummed and stepped closer. “Shall we make up for lost time? I would be more than happy to provide you with two centuries’ worth of… experience,” he looked at Hob from under his eyelashes. “And then some.”

Hob swallowed as he felt a familiar heat roil in his gut. “That's not fair. Why do you always try to seduce me in public?”

“Because I know I can always take you somewhere private.”

Hob narrowed his eyes, but he wasn’t nearly prideful enough to decline a proposition from Dream. “Just to my flat this time. I don't wanna be appearing in any more paintings.”

Dream’s lips turned up in a smile. “As you wish. I am not opposed to keeping you all to myself.”

Dream pressed a soft kiss to Hob's lips, and Hob leaned into the touch as he felt the familiar sensation of being transported away.

---

Notes:

The premise of this fic is inspired by this Tumblr post. I saw it years ago and my brain conjured it up again for this fic~

Big thanks to @patchyegg87 for her idea of Hob and Dream teleporting to an artist's dream and being painted <3

And to my brother as well for being an art geek and telling me various stories of lovers in classic paintings and such~

---

(Dreamling Week Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

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cauliflowertree · 2 years

Note

hi fern!! could you do remus lupin with "you're cute when you're jealous."

maybe slytherin!reader?

remus lupin—honey sweet.

summary: remus finds your jealousy amusing.

word count: 0.5k

fanfic no. 034

everyone seemed to be obsessed with the marauders, particularly the gryffindors—they all wanted to be a part of their group, sit with them at dinner or be their friend, the honorary fourth member, for no one ever seemed to count you, lily, marlene or dorcas. those who nurtured small crushes on the boys even cheered for them during quidditch matches, regardless of the house in which they belonged.

it was simply the way it was. and though remus told you time and time again he had eyes for no one but you, your jealousy could still get the better of you. you’d no cause for concern, but it was the blatant disregard these people had for your feelings, or your existence in general.

this time it was some gryffindor, it was always worse when they were gryffindor—they didn’t like that remus lupin was with a slytherin. they were congratulating him on his latest exam marks, top of the school; you were so proud. but surely your pride was the only one that mattered to remus. yours and his friends’.

out of the corner of his eye, remus could see you seething, your lips pressed in a tight, thin line, your countenance threatening. he tried to bite back a smile, for it was all very amusing to him, and not offend whoever was speaking to him. and when they were finally done with their little speech, they congratulated him one last time with a lingering arm touch.

“right!” you sounded from across the room, having had quite enough.

“thanks so much,” remus said quickly, shooing them off.

he walked over to you with haste, grasping your hand in his to walk you back over to where you’d been sitting. he laughed quietly, though this time he could understand your aggravation.

“it was nothing,” remus said calmly, caressing your cheek.

“it was not nothing. they were flirting with you. they always flirt with you. and they don’t care that you have me, that’s what makes it so frustrating,” you explained, leaning into his touch.

“it was nothing to me,” remus altered his previous statement, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “you know, you’re cute when you’re jealous.”

you tried, and failed, to maintain an expression of anger, to dramatise the seriousness of the situation. but you could never stay angry for long when remus was around—it simply dissipated.

“awh, rem,” you laughed bashfully, pressing your forehead against his chest.

he knew how to diffuse all the anger built up inside you and replace it with nothing but adoration. he knew the very inner workings of your heart, like it was a mechanism he had taken time to learn and master.

“come here, darling,” remus instructed, lifting your head up by your jaw, “let me kiss you.”

you nodded, wetting your lips slightly in preparation for the long, lingering kiss remus left you with, perfectly aware of who would be watching.

🏷 @cherrystrees @sw34terw34ther @imabee-oralizard @mad-elia @velvetcloxds @natashxromanovf @masivechaos @ell0ra-br3kk3r @garfieldsladybird @flesh--amnesiac @maricoolerthanme @uwiuwi @juneberrie @goodoldfashionedluvergirl

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x gn!reader #remus lupin x slytherin!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fic #remus lupin #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders era x reader #marauders era fanfiction

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dryadalisliv · 3 months

Text

Madeline Willow sat crossed legged upon her comfortable yellow armchair.

In her right hand she held a biro, and in her left rested a block of ruled paper. She was meeting a new client today, one Merlin Hunithson, whom at the moment occupied the sofa before her - fidgeting with the ends of his shirt.

If she had to guess without consulting his journal, Madeline would place him to be around his late twenties. He had curly black hair - just shy of needing a new haircut, pallid skin, and wore a casual set of clothes consisting of a dark blue jumper atop of a seemingly plane white t-shirt, and red, beaten, converse trainers hidden beneath the ends of his straight legged jeans.

He looked desperately normal, except for his eyes, which was such a startling blue that it contrasted greatly with his otherwise dull demeanour.

Merlin Hunithson sat as if trying to occupy as little space as possible. His shoulders pushed inwards, and legs twitching like he was forcibly stopping himself from tugging them up on the sofa and beneath his chin. His gaze shifted quickly around the room, never resting on Madeline.

“You wrote to me,” was the first thing Madeline Willow said to Merlin Hunithson, “and told me you were seeking help regarding the death of a friend of yours.”

She studied him intensely. The first meeting between a client and a therapist was important. They were both here to learn the basics of one another. Madeline’s job was to assess her patient. Figure out how they dealt with their emotions, and by that how she should deal with their emotions.

And Merlin Hunithson’s job was to figure out if Madeline Willow was capable of dealing with his emotions, she supposed.

So, she studied him intensely as she said the words.

Hunithson sat awfully still, only betrayed by a slight twitch to his eyebrows upon the word ‘death’.

“Would you mind telling me more about that?” she asked.

Hunithson finally placed his gaze upon her, and she suddenly felt overwhelmingly dizzy meeting those strangely deep blue eyes. He tilted his head, as if he was studying her, a small wrinkle appeared between his brows. He pursed his lips before tearing his eyes away once more.

His gaze fell on her wooden bookshelf - once again, he tilted his head - in what she assumed was a gesture to facilitate the reading of the titles gracing the books.

Hunithson’s eyebrows suddenly lifted in surprise, his mouth turning lopsided before the expression disappeared.

Madeline had to suppress the sudden urge to ask him what book had warranted that reaction.

He cleared his throat, and Madeline toyed unconsciously with the biro.

“It was long ago,” He said, his voice was gentle if not a little hoarse, “and yet…” he trailed off.

“And yet it still festers?” she prompted.

He sighed but nodded.

“And when you say, ‘long ago’, what do you mean?” Madeline questioned, leaning a bit forward in her chair.

A mirthless smile painted itself on Hunithson’s lips just as a breathless laugh escaped him, “It feels like a millennium.”

Okay, she thought. Jokes.

He said it like it was an inside joke that he felt no need to include Madeline in. In fact, the excluding seemed to be what he found funny about it.

“So, long ago?” She asked, saving the specifics for later.

“Long ago.” Hunithson confirmed with a nod.

She wrote that down upon her pad of paper. Long ago, and yet it festers.

Madeline looked up from her notes, finding Hunithson with his head tilted as if he was trying to read what she wrote. She scrutinised him for a moment, he seemed to be aware of this - yet he didn’t hurriedly look away trying to cover his curiosity regarding the notes, as she had seen other patients do.

Merlin Hunithson was apparently unapologetically curious of other people’s perspective of himself. Or maybe he just had trust issues and was in no haste to hide the fact.

She let herself fall back on her chair again, tapping the end of her biro gently upon the padded armrest in a steady tattoo. Hunithson’s eyes stayed fixed on the movement, his pupils evenly going slightly up, before slightly down, and the up once more.

She halted herself in her tapping, and Hunithson’s eyes followed.

He looked up and met her gaze. She smiled gently.

She figured, judging by the vague dismissal within the previous joke and the indefinite answer, they probably weren’t ready to talk of the death itself today. So, Madeline said, her voice soft, “Okay, so it was long ago. Mr. Hunithson, could you tell me about your friend?”

A secret part of her always relished in this moment - the moment she got to crack open the mind of a new patient. Get a look into a new spiderweb of thoughts and feelings. Get a look into a new perspective of the world, a new untold story.

It was like opening a new book, every appointment with the patient a new page.

But then again, not really. It was more so being provided a new page sporadically each meeting - not at all chronologically, and with small side stories that you were left wondering how they truly fit into this book of which you so desperately tried to make sense of.

So, Madeline turned the first page of the book of Merlin Hunithson, asking him about his late friend.

Hunithson crinkled his nose, as if supressing a wince.

“Merlin.” He said, “Call me Merlin”

Madeline’s lips twitched at that. She would usually call her patients by their first name, but she always began with their last - making it the patient’s choice on the distance they started at, and when they would move closer.

“Merlin, then,” she smiled easily - which Merlin surprisingly returned, revealing soft crow’s feet by his deep blue eyes. “Tell me about your friend.” Madeline continued.

He sighed and shifted his weight as he clenched and unclenched his hands, as if preparing himself.

“He-“ Merlin swallowed, running his hands over his thighs. “His name was Arthur.” He wasn’t looking at Madeline anymore. His gaze had moved to the bookshelf by her left once again, albeit he didn’t seem to be looking at the titles - there was something unseeing in his eyes, like he was looking faraway, long ago.

Arthur and Merlin, Madeline couldn't help but think to herself with an inward huff of laughter. She swallowed and shifted her weight as she tucked the thought away, before focusing back on Merlin.

“I- well,” suddenly Madeline could see him return to the presence. His eyes grew clearer, and he looked back at her, a mirthless smile playing on his lips. “I don’t really know what else to say.” He admitted, wetting his lips as his right hand covered his left wrist seemingly unconsciously.

Madeline shrugged exaggeratedly, offering a lopsided smile. “It could be anything that comes to mind,” she watched as Merlin’s right hand stared twisting his wrist. He was sporting that faraway look once again. “It could be his appearance, or something like if he talked a certain way - it could also just be a memory you shared,” Merlin was looking - but not really - at the bookshelf, a soft and sad smile on his lips. “It doesn’t matter, just tell me about him. About Arthur.”

Madeline noticed how Merlin’s head twitched ever so slightly upon the name. His gaze remained faraway, long ago.

“He-“ Merlin seemed to be searching for what to say, until a huff of something that could vaguely be described as a laugh escaped him. “He was so bloody rude,” he spoke; Madeline watched as his eyebrows squished together, and he shook his head nearly incredulously. “He was terrible - incorrigible,” Merlin continued, the fondness of his tone belying the harsh words of which he spoke. “He would always - He could get so angry.” Merlin interrupted himself, right hand still twisting his wrist. “He would yell and throw things and just be so damn annoying.” He laughed, it sounded wet and shaky. “Sometimes he would get himself into these utterly ridiculous situations, and I always had to get him out of them. And- and he would get so mad the few times he found out that I helped him. Well, I think he would really get embarrassed, but he had a habit of hiding all his emotions with anger - even the nice ones.” Merlin sighed and finally lost his grip on his wrist to run his hand through his hair. Presence fell into his eyes again, and he chanced a glance at Madeline.

“His father - well, Arthur always tried to do right by him, his father that is. Problem was that his father was an utter arse, so Arthur was really following the wrong banner.” He grinned shakingly, and Madeline tried to return it.

She didn’t quite know what to think yet. Merlin sounded incredibly fond of this ‘Arthur’, but she noticed his way of expressing it was convoluted and indirect, saying ‘he was annoying’ and meaning ‘he was brilliant’. It told her more of their relationship than Merlin probably thought.

It told her that, what he did now, Merlin and Arthur probably did within each other’s company as well. The jesting of ‘I hate you’ and being able to hear the underlying ‘I like you’ beneath it.

It was convoluted and complicated, and so damn common.

For what an easy way to be vulnerable, without being it at all?

What she gathered of Arthur’s character as of now, was that he was rude, quick to anger, desperate for his arse of a father’s approval, and that Merlin Hunithson utterly adored him.

#I wrote this long ago with the intent of making it a multichapter fic #but never quite got around to doing it... so here's what i've got lol #i posted this on ao3 too #bbc merlin #merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin emrys #fanfic #merlin fic #bbc merlin fanfics

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forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

ok ok ok, you wanted angst ideas for Joel so imma throw an idea around. so Joel has something of readers, and Ellie asks him about it, Joel refuses to tell her and they argue, time passes and later that night Joel tell Ellie about reader and how they are no longer alive and the flash back happens and what not and reader knows they’re not gonna live and tells Joel over and over again “ I don’t wanna die. “ and “ don’t let me die. “ and it’s just a sob fest in my mind.

AN | You want pain, I want pain, so we have some pain. It’s going to hurt, so be prepared 🥰

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, TLOU canon typical violence (mentions of bites and blood, but nothing descriptive)

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ellie had always been a curious kid, from the time she was very young.

Her knowledge of the world was limited, and now that she had Joel she liked to learn as much as she could. She was like an information sponge. Her curiosity also pushed her into exploring all sorts of places where she wasn't explicitly allowed. But - to her defense - she was never explicitly told not to explore these places.

She was waiting around for Joel, not wanting to go out and befriend everyone in Jackson just yet. She explored around the house and familiarized herself with what a normal home might look like. This could have been her life if she hadn't been born into this world.

This could be her life now. With Joel. She liked the thought of that.

"Wow," she was looking through one of the nightstand's drawers when she came across a piece of jewelry. She made a small sound of awe as she pulled out the gold chain, a delicate, yet sturdy thing with a locket hanging off of it. She’d already gotten this far, so she decided that opening it and looking inside wasn’t much of a step further.

It took Ellie a moment to pry it open; the locking mechanism stuck stuff over time. It hadn’t been opened in a number of years.

“There we are,” she whispered to herself in triumph as she looked inside. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but there was no photo inside like she’s heard there often were. Two sets of crudely carved initials were on the back of the cool metal, no longer clearly discernible due to the passage of time. But inside, there was a small, expertly folded piece of paper - a note - yellowed and faded. Ellie was about to unfold the note, oscillating between putting it all back and pretending she never found it and just reading the note. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, her decision was made for her.

“What the hell are you doing?” The coldness of his voice caused the young girl to jump and drop the necklace to the floor. She turned around to find Joel in the doorway, a furious expression on his face. Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him this mad; maybe never.

“I-I’m sorry,” she scrambled to her feet, shaking her head as if to show him that she really didn’t know anything, “I was just looking around-”

“You were snooping,” he took a few steps over to her and snatched the locket off the floor and closed it back up before shoving it into his pocket, “tell me why you thought it was okay to just look around in things that aren’t yours.”

“I’m sorry,” she felt like crying; the last thing she ever wanted to do was to hurt Joel or upset him, “I was bored and j-just looking around! I shouldn’t have looked at your stuff.”

“No,” he agreed, closing his eyes and letting out an angry breath through his nose, “get out and go to your room.”

“Joel-”

“Now.”

He left no room for discussion and the young girl nodded, feeling her eyes burn with tears. But she was determined not to let him see her cry as she ran down the hall to her room, slamming the door shut.

Joel sat at the edge of the bed and sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand over his tired face. The necklace felt like it weighed a million pounds in his pocket, practically burning into his skin. In haste, he pulled it out and threw it into the drawer, slamming it shut.

He felt like crying too; at all the memories the locket brought back, and how he’d talked to Ellie. He wasn’t angry at her, not really, he was just angry at the situation. Not even angry so much as upset.

A few tears rolled down his cheek and he hastily brushed them away. He hadn’t even realized he was crying.

He didn’t know if he was ready to face his demons just yet.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ellie remained silently in her room for the rest of the afternoon. Joel had walked by her room about a dozen times, thinking about knocking and apolgozing, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. She could hear him pacing around; the gesture made her feel a little better.

Around dinner time, Joel was in the kitchen and cooking, causing the girl’s belly to rumble with hunger. She didn’t want to go out just yet and get yelled at, so she was content to stay inside until he went to bed.

Just when she couldn’t stand the delicious smells anymore, she opened the door, ready to go downstairs and apologize until he forgave her.

He was standing outside the door, hand raised to knock. The two of them looked at each other in surprise for a moment before he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I made dinner - I’m sure you’re hungry by now.”

She nodded and before he could say anything else, she wrapped her arms around him and held onto him in a tight hug. He let out an almost silent sigh of relief as he held her back, some of worry and anxiety ebbing away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his chest, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he stroked her back gently, “let’s not worry about it and put it behind us. Yes?”

“Yes,” she agreed, giving him a small smile that he mirrored in return. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders and led her downstairs. His heart already felt lighter.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dinner was mostly a silent affair, neither of them wanting to push any boundaries, instead exchanging words only over the food.

But Ellie, wonderful, bright-eyed and curious Ellie, wanted to know the whole story. She wanted to make it better if possible, or at the very least wanted him to know that she was there for him.

“Will you tell me about it?” she asked, pushing around some of the pasta on her plate, keeping her gaze specifically trained on the plate and not his face.

“About what?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.

“The locket,” she swallowed thickly, “i-if you want to. I don’t know if you want to talk about it, but I’m here. For you. Here for you.”

“I know you are,” he promised quietly. And he did. He knew the girl was so much more than the cargo he had once considered her. Although truthfully, that hadn’t lasted long. Maybe a few days.

The two of them fell back into silence before he eventually set his fork down and leaned back in his chair, “before I met you, I, uh, I had a partner.”

Ellie swallowed her bite before leaning, making it a point to show him that he had her full attention, “a partner?”

“A life partner,” he explained and she understood, her eyes widening. Her heart ached at the realization that hit her. Not only had he lost his daughter, lost his business partner in Tess, he’d the person he intended on spending the rest of his days with. She couldn’t even imagine that much pain and grief all at once - or ever, “the locket, it belonged to them.”

“Oh,” she swallowed down the sob she felt welling up, “Joel…I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he promised, his teary eyed gaze meeting hers, “I know, Ellie.”

“The note…”

“It was from me,” he drummed his fingers along the wooden top of the table, “I gave them the locket, with the note.”

“Joel…” Ellie pushed her chair back and padded over to him, wrapping him into a huge the best she could, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” he agreed, closing his eyes, feeling a wave of emotion wash over him. He hadn’t said this out loud to anyone before, and it felt like a million pounds had lifted off his shoulders. Letting it out wasn’t going to bring anyone back from the dead, but it did let him get rid of some of his demons, “I’ll take care of you, okay?”

“I’ll take care of you too,” she told him softly. His heart felt quiet and content, “I promise.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel’s heart felt simultaneously like it was about to stop and burst out of his chest from how hard it was beating. He held you, trying to shield you from everything else but him. He took your face in his hands and kept your attention on him. As though there wasn’t a giant bite in your side that was bleeding profusely and coloring your clothes a horrible shade of crimson. He knew you could more than likely feel it. He knew that you were more than aware of what was happening.

He blamed himself. This was his fault, solely his entire fault all because he turned his attention away from you for a few moments. But no - you had to be brave and have his back instead of the opposite. He was supposed to protect you, to take care of you. But he had failed - he had utterly fucked up.

And you were paying the ultimate price.

“I don’t wanna die,” there was blood smeared on your cheek that he swiped away with his thumb. Despite the situation, it felt like the right thing to do. Tears were streaming down your face as you shook your head, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself this was all a bad dream, “don’t let me die. Please. Please, Joel. I don’t wanna go.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he was lying. He knew that you knew he was lying. He didn’t know what else to do. Even if there was limited time left, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud, “you’re going to be okay. Just look at me, baby.”

A small whimper escaped your lips as you squirmed, trying to ease the burning feeling in your side. He choked back the sob that had bubbled up in his throat, but the tears had run down his face too, “it hurts. It hurts.”

“I know,” he couldn’t imagine. He didn’t want to imagine. He wanted to wake up and find that this was all a bad dream. That he hadn’t failed you just liked he’d failed Sarah, “you’re so brave. And strong. And amazing.”

“I don’t wanna go,” you sniffled as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself as close to him as possible. You just wanted to feel him one last time, “I don’t want to leave you. Please.”

“You won’t,” he promised, “you’ll always have me, I swear it. I’ve got you, baby.”

He pulled you into his chest, his arms around you in a bone crushing hug. You didn’t care, you just wanted him. You didn’t want him to let go.

“I love you,” your face was buried into your chest and you could hear the cries he tried to hold down. You could feel his body shaking and trembling as he gently rocked you back and forth, “please don’t let me become one of those things. Please.”

“I would never,” he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing, wishing, and wishing he was in your place. That somehow, magically, he could take it away from you. Instead he knew what he was going to have to do. He never thought he’d be in this position. He never wanted it. He still didn’t, but he wasn’t going to let you down again, “I’ll take care of you. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I know,” you closed your eyes as you tried to surround yourself with him and only him. If you were going to go, you wanted the last thing you saw, felt, and heard to be Joel, “I trust you, Joel.”

You trusted him. It almost felt laughable at the moment, but in a horrible, terrible way. You trusted him and look what that had gotten you - death. He inhaled shakily, hating himself every fiber of his being.

He did this to you. And now he had to do it again.

He stared straight ahead at the wall, a blanket expression on his face as he pulled the knife out of his pocket. You were still crying, the sound muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

Within moments, your body stilled and you were silent.

He tossed the knife to the side, letting out a yell of pain and frustration. He didn’t even know what to feel anymore; if he even felt anything at all. Joel felt so empty, so hollow.

He remained there for a while, still and unmoving, praying to whatever deity was out there for forgiveness. Forgiveness for what he let happen to Sarah…and now you. He didn’t know if he deserved anything at all, redemption, forgiveness, or otherwise.

“Joel,” Tess’ voice was the softest and sweetest he’d ever heard. She’d been crying too, clearly shaken up but what had transpired, “we…”

She couldn’t find it in her heart to finish her sentence. She gave him a nod before slowly walking away to give him some space.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at your body. Instead, he reached around your neck and delicately unclasped your necklace, pulling it off and tucked it away into his pocket. He’d be damned if he let anything happen to it.

It was the last bit of tangible evidence he had of you. Soon you’d be a mere memory; a ghost haunting him.

He pulled himself out from your lifeless body, refusing to look down at you. If he didn’t see you, it would be easier to pretend that nothing had happened.

You weren’t dead. You were gone for a bit; he’d see you again one day.

He caught up with Tess and she gave him a nod which he returned.

“Ready?”

“No,” he admitted, the remaining bits of his heart shattering into tiny pieces, “no.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Joel?” Ellie whispered his name after he finished telling her what happened. He turned to her with a small, sad smile. If anything ever happened to her, he didn’t know if he’d have the heart to go on, “I love you, you know? Even if it’s all sappy and shit, I mean it.”

“I know, kid,” he did. Even if she was a little shit sometimes. She was his little shit, “sappy shit and all. I love you too.”

And he did. Even if it hurt to put more love into the world, to allow himself to feel love and be loved, he was willing to do it again. For her. For himself.

For you.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou #tlou hbo

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scummy-writes · 1 year

Text

Haste is what drives you towards the library. The feel of a thousand eyes upon you itch across your skin, keeps your guard up firm, a deep ache settling into your body. You've felt like this for hours, carrying the weight of paranoia, until you've finally hit a breaking point, seeking refuge in desperate places.

Chevalier's private library.

It's not wise, but your options are limited. It being close was an unfortunate circumstance, and you're praying that you'll be greeted by nothing but dust as you open the door.

It takes a few rapid blinks to ensure no tears have been shed. And then the knot in your stomach begins to unfurl, slowly.

With a deep, steadying breath, you nod towards Chevalier, shutting the door behind you with a gentle click before brisky turning to walk towards the other end of the quiet room. It's not dust here, but in the end, everyone has said Chevalier has cared little about feelings. You couldn't fathom a reason for him caring about yours now.

You're scared he can tell, of course, but at the same time you know he knows. There was none of your usual fumbling, and you're stiff as a board, barely able to vocalize without an embarrassing rasp.

And in that moment, you're thankful. Thankful he just doesn't care enough to ask. The trek through the hallways was torturous enough, you knew if he had spoken to you, that you'd burst into tears on the spot.

Instead, you're granted the small space to breathe. Able to be nestled among the shelves, on a ledge at the little nook you've claimed in his library. Sure, your breath hitches and you have to wipe away the burning tears welling up, but your sore, overtightened muscles begin to ease.

Another deep breath, through your stuffy nose this time, and the comforting smell of well-loved pages welcome you again. The rapid beating of your heart begins to slow, and that knot inside of you gives way just a bit more.

You're unsure how long you rest there. Eyes closed, trying to quell the racing thoughts in your mind, before a new floral scent becomes present.

And you open your eyes to see Chevalier looking down at you, that unreadable expression of his present.

"You were in the gardens earlier…"

He doesn't respond to your quiet observation. Instead, he wordlessly hands you a book you haven't seen before.

As you gaze at the purple cover, enjoying the filigree around it's edges, he leaves you alone again.

… Chevalier 'speak' was a language you were still learning, but it was clear he wanted the sniffling to stop, unless you had a good reason for it.

But for your over-rubbed eyes, reading was the last thing you wanted to do. You hadn't even calmed your mind yet, how were you supposed to-

"It's not one you've read before."

You blink at him, skittish that he's been paying more attention to you than you believed.

"Y-you're right… I've never even heard of the title."

Silence. But when you continue to trace the pads of your finger on the filigree, he continues.

"The Dog will be here soon."

Rio? When you've been avoiding him the most today? You treasured his friendship, but when he notices you're upset, he crowds you to the point of suffocating.

"But-"

"He won't stay long."

The sigh that escapes you goes unnoticed, and you're back to instinctively bringing your knees to your chest.

It's on your fourth try of slowly counting your breaths when knocking against the door startles you. As Chevalier said, Rio peeks his head in and the moment he spots you, gives you a pitying smile.

Suddenly, you want to be Chevalier- able to ignore everyone without guilt. You don't want to even look at Rio for long, lest tears start to form again.

However, Rio doesn't say a word.

Instead, gentle rattles of a teacup and saucer catch your attention, and you watch with big eyes as he sets a teaset on Chevalier's side table, and pours you a cup.

The look in his eyes speak for him once he sets it beside you: imploring, begging for any indication of what's wrong with you today. It's too much that you glance away again, fiddling with the book once more. And blessedly, Rio leaves you be.

It takes so much for your numb body to reach out towards the teacup left behind, hand shaking. You're fighting not to curl up again, to stay firm in your shell, and thankfully you manage to gingerly sip the tea, feeling the warmth cascade down your sore throat.

After a few sips, feeling just a tad more stable, you manage to finally open the book, trying to take in the words with your weary eyes.

Soon, it's only the warmth of something new around your shoulders that breaks your focus from the words in your lap, echos of the fantasy world fading as you look up to Chevalier: his cloak his missing from his shoulders, and it takes you a moment longer than you'd like to realize it's what is laden on your frame.

He doesn't look you in the eye until his stiff hands finish securing it, pausing long enough to let out a sigh.

"Leave it in here once you've gone."

There's not even a chance to question him about it- he leaves you there, surrounded by his books, tea, and his warmth encompassing your body.

And its there, when you're finally truly alone, that you realize your shoulders have relaxed thanks to the tea and cloak coaxing you. That your puffy eyes were relieved to focused on anything else than grief. That your mind had been absorbed in the book he has lent you, long enough to make what you were upset about be taken away from the forefront of your mind.

In the silence, relief finally floods from you, and you carefully keep from spilling all over the novel.

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

Not tagging anyone for this one, sorry! This is one of those random venty drabbles, I don't feel keen on tagging people for them. This is a rough and odd drabble.

Before any... comments... in case its not clear somehow, I do think Chevalier cares about certain people's feelings. I think if you've had little time to learn about him much paat the brutal way of how he cuts to the chase, however, that you may hope the rumors are true so that he will finally not ask you about your feelings when you don't want him to.

If you believe this is ooc, I kindly do not want to hear it. I don't plan to make a habit of writing Chevalier. Thank you!

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince chevalier

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