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annie-creates · 1 year

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The roses you sowed

Pairing: jealous Lady Lesso x reader

Genre: angst

Words: 1600

Note: OMG guys I just got my first request! Of course you can ask and I shall deliver. Hope this is gonna be up to your expectation dear. This is a free continuation of Barely a friend (can be read as a series or separately). I have a good idea for a third final (happy) part, but I'll only write it if I get a request for it so feel free to slide into my inbox.

Down and burned out. That’s how you have felt for the past two weeks. And the reason for that was just one, Lady Lesso. Your now ex-lover and friend who you thought you’ll surpass the whole world with. Everything was going so good at first. You became friends, then lovers. You’d spent so many little and big moments together, watching the stars, dancing under the moon, or just talking and reading together. You thought you’ll become the fated couple, the one true love no one could keep apart. Your happily ever after.

That was until she said you’re just a waste of space and time. The fact she took you for just a fuck buddy in the end broke your heart. You were too innocent, too naïve, too good for such evil truth. You didn’t want to believe it at first. Every morning you hoped it was just a bad dream, a nightmare the wicked spirits prepared to torment you. And every day you were broken a bit more to find out it was actually the harsh reality.

You became more distant and colder, something all your colleagues and even some students took notice of. You were still the sweet and caring Y/n, yet you never smiled anymore, your answers lacked compassion and your outfits were made of cold dark tones. Even the dean of good herself got a bit worried about your state. But nobody knew why the sudden change. How could they? You and Lesso always kept your somewhat relationship secret. No one could know the reputable dean of evil shares bed with the cute little teacher of good.

You carefully hang up a flower garland around the hall, preparing the place for the arrival of royal families. Your school hosted an annual meeting every year, welcoming new princes and princesses who finished their own story. The new winner had a chance to meet their seasoned counterparts and the first year students had new heroes to look up to. Maybe you’d consider inviting the villains too, if only they’d win anything in the last hundred years.

You busied yourself with preparations as you couldn’t stand standing around all day doing nothing. It gave you too much time to think and with thinking dark thoughts came immediately. So you offered yourself to decorate the room and prepare the menu, running it by the kitchen chief. Professor Dovey was happy you decided to involve yourself, it might be good for your mental health. You needed to get out of your shell soon, or you’ll become one dark stormy cloud.

As you were manipulating the flowers to look exactly how you ideated, you leaned over just a little too much and the stepladder under you gave up leaving you to fall to the ground. You screamed in shock, yet you didn’t painfully land on your butt as you imagined. Rather in strong hands that kept you safe from the hard floor. You slowly opened your eyes not sure you wanted to see where you ended up.

“Hello.” a sweet man’s voice greeted you. “Hope you didn’t get hurt too much?”

You couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in weeks. “No, thanks to you. I believe you saved my ass and my pride.”

“No need to thank me, it was my pleasure. Saving princesses in trouble is kinda my job.” he jokes.

“And it is my job to be polite mister..?” you looked at him questioningly.

“The name is prince Phillip my lady.” he smirks at you with a toothpaste commercial worthy smile.

“Well Mr. Phillip I think it’s time you put me down.” you remind him politely, not flirting too much but still enjoying his company.

“I wouldn’t mind carrying you around tho.” he remarks but sets you gently down regardless.

“Are you here for the hero celebration? It’s still two days till then.” you curiously ask.

“Yes, I came early to take care of other business too. And maybe I could help you out a little since I’m already here? You know, so that you don’t risk your life on the ladder again.” he offers.

You gladly agreed, hoping to get the work done faster and maybe have someone to talk to while doing it. Prince Phillip turned out to be educated, funny and actually not at all self-centered. You laughed with him and for a minute forgot to be the sad gloomy teacher. When you finished, he accompanied you to dinner and you offered to show him around the castle tomorrow. Neither of you noticed the redhead piercing you with her eyes the whole time. You’ve spent too much time pining after her when she wouldn’t spare you a glance to care now.

Leonora was desperately trying to convince herself she doesn’t care. She was just fucking you, and she can fuck anyone. Who cares you seem to be vanishing in front of her eyes? Who cares you look like you haven’t slept in a month? She doesn’t. So why should she care that you have a prince dancing around you? Taking you out? Making you laugh? Holding your hands? She definitely doesn’t. She isn’t one to care.

Except she does. And she can’t stand the image of you being happy with somebody else. Nobody should be allowed to make you laugh but her. She has to divert her eyes every time she sees you walking around the gardens with him. She feels like throwing up seeing him holding your waist. She has felt many emotions in her life. She felt satisfaction of torturing her failing students. She felt malicious glee secretly destroying Dovey’s flower beds. But she has never felt such jealousy like she felt now and she hated it.

Leonora Lesso was jealous. Jealous of the way this stupid prince was looking at you. Jealous of the fact he made you laugh. Jealous you let him touch you so intimately nobody else but she did. She tried avoiding you, having sex with someone else, burying herself in piles of work. But nothing could take this foul feeling of jealousy away. It was eating her alive every time she set eyes on you and your seemingly undetachable prince charming.

On the night of the hero welcoming she wished to be anywhere but here. She didn’t care to dress up, it’s not like she planned to spend more time than absolutely necessary. Opting to keep her standard attire of tailored suit and cane, hoping to blend in as much as possible. Yet her eyes were unconsciously looking for her princess in the crowd. And they found her as she stepped into the room, all dolled up, on the hand of the prince. She looked ethereal, like a fairy tale gone real. And Lesso wished nothing more than to be the one whose hand she’s holding.

Lesso clutched her cane so hard her knuckles were going white as she watched you dancing the night away, laughing and drinking with the foolish prince. She even contemplated arranging a little accident. Falling off of the astronomy tower suddenly didn’t sound so bad for the prince. If only looks could kill, hers would be deadly now. Sadly they can’t, so it did nothing but bother her and her alone, having to witness your rendezvous.

“Well you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.” Dovey’s cheery voice snapped Lesso out of her murderous thoughts.

“And you find it surprising?” the dean of evil countered, she was never happy to make an appearance at such events, but it was her unpleasant duty.

“Maybe try to cheer yourself up a little, loosen up. You might find the ball surprisingly entertaining.” with unsolicited advice the dean of good got lost in the crowd with her glass of punch.

I’d find it entertaining cutting this fool’s head of, Lesso thought. But as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t do that. So she had to painfully stand around and watch you being lost in this dude’s eyes and dumb hero stories for at least half an hour more before she could inconspicuously disappear. Good thing is she didn’t have to see you the whole day after that, making excuses of being intoxicated from the night before. It was a lie, she barely had a glass of champagne. But she rather locked herself in her bedroom than risking seeing you with the dipshit again.

That was until the afternoon teachers’ meeting. Lesso didn’t rush to the library, knowing she’ll have to face your probably too happy face. What she didn’t expect was prince perfect standing by the table too. But she knew better than to ask questions and appear too interested in the good school’s business. She took her place by the head of the table, Dovey sitting across from her.

“Good afternoon. It is my pleasure to start this meeting with happy news.” the dean of good took the word. “Prince Phillip agreed to be so kind and join our staff. I believe he will lead our students to their amazing abilities and victories.”

Half the table started clapping but Lesso was having none of it. Her face was void of emotions, just blankly staring at the table. The rest of the meeting flew right pass her not keeping attention on anything. He’s staying. The poor excuse of a hero is staying, teaching right by your side at the school for good. You’re gonna share your methods and knowledge with him. He’s gonna take you away form her… more than he already has. And she can’t do anything about it. She’s reaping the roses she sowed.

#lady lesso x reader #lady lesso #lady leonora lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #leonora lesso x reader #leonora lesso #the school for good and evil #school for good and evil #sge #tsfgae #fanfiction #fanfic #lady lesso angst #jealousy #dean of evil #jealous lady Lesso

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silverfoxlou · 2 years

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Hi. I'm sorry if this is offensive I just have been here for so long and right now it feels like Louis does all the larry stuff genuinely whereas Harry's is just using us to idk .... keep another one of his narrations going ?Like just because he is Harry and we know him we let so many things he does slide. How do you excuse a white privileged cis het man saying "I wrote boyfriends from a women's perspective..." like who do you think you are to tell me what I relate to or what our struggle dealing with boyfriends is? that's no excuse?? Not when your interviewer actively keeps excluding even the notion of it being about the same gender .... and please it was obviously scripted to an extent. And this isn't the only thing either .... I don't know kinda feel like Louis doesn't really deserve H. Please answer if you'd like... I really wanna hear what you think about this ... because every person in this Fandom is so close minded

Hi anon,

I got your other ask so I'll answer this now.... and there's a lot to unpack here.

First of all. I am definitely NOT a larrie - honestly a little offended that you could look at my blog and think that.

The problem here seems to be that you're operating under the assumption that there's no way Louis and Harry aren't together. There aren't a million things that point to them being together.... these two men could not be more different from each other if you tried. Just look at how they approach their fans, music and music history, and even the pandemic. It's unlikely that they're even friends or that they've seen each other over the past few years. Everything larries believe that points towards them "still being together" comes from twisting the facts to fit a narrative, or extending headcanons from 2012 to fit the personalities of two men that are now a decade older. Like they're not going to still be together because of something one of them might have said 8 years ago. Because, uh, break ups do happen.

So there's no "larry stuff that Louis does genuinely" because there is no Larry. You're right in thinking that Harry is definitely baiting the fans because he knows he needs them around to defend him against the misogyny and queerbaiting. And it's all a calculated marketing tactic that his label brags about - they've now twice openly admitted to tracking fan behaviour and adjusting their promo accordingly bust some fans still want to believe that Harry is communicating with them. (Also there is a massive flaw in the logic here - the Sony/management approved promo allowed him to signal stuff related to Louis... but they're also the ones shutting him down and not letting him come out and be with Louis openly? You do see how if he is actually signalling Louis... it's just more carefully planned promo to play all sides).

If Louis does do any "larry stuff" that's not just larries reaching or pure coincidence.. it's also a cynical attempt to bait the fans into supporting him (and if this is the case, while it would leave a sour taste in my mouth... I get why and he deserves to take fans that have made his life hell for 10+ years for a ride for their money and the numbers they can provide).

"Like just because he is Harry and we know him we let so many things he does slide" But do you actually know him? I barely know anything about this promo run except for scattered quotes here and there that I looked at to poke fun at him... but from what I've gathered, everything he says is contradictory to what he does. And he *is* just a privileged asshole (the man threw himself a pity party about finally being able to sit down with a coffee... during a pandemic when thousands of people were (and are still) dying daily). The idea that fans "know" him just because they've been a fan for a long time is hilarious. Not only because people can change over time to become bad people... but because in Harry's case, looking at his actions now you can see that he's always fundamentally been this person - jealous, anxious, and self-serving. The only people excusing his actions are people who don't really care about having morals and separating right from wrong- they just want to be his fan, but know deep down that he's a horrible person with no talent whatsoever but they have to justify it to themselves somehow.

I'm taking your statement of "Louis doesn't really deserve H" to mean you think Louis deserves someone better. Which, yes. It's an insult to Louis to think he would still be with Harry. No matter what way you look at it, any relationship between the two of them now would come with a huge power imbalance and would be quite toxic.

So uh, long story short - fans don't know Harry and if he sounds like an asshole, acts like an asshole, and is surrounded by people who are assholes... well. And Louis, despite some his flaws, is a fundamentally good person who deserves fans who support and love only him, and don't keep making his life and career harder by tying to him to a relationship (real or not) that has been used against him since he was 19.

And it's okay to drop Harry and larry and just support Louis and his music. I'll encourage it even.

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aletterinthenameofsanity · 1 year

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although I'll leave before the sunrise (I'll be bleeding, but don't you mind, I'll be fine)

Alec Lightwood x Magnus Bane. Malec. Missing scene pre-botched Lydia x Alec wedding. Title is from "Hold Me Closer" by Cornelia Jakobs, which I wrote this whole fic to and directly inspired this fic. Crossposted on ao3.

Alec knows he shouldn't have done this.

It isn't a hard conclusion to come to; it's the only conclusion to come to. This was never a good idea, not when he stepped into Pandemonium for once last glimpse at Magnus before the wedding, not when he let Magnus pull him into a slow, deep kiss, not when he and Magnus stumbled through Magnus' apartment with laughter and gentle teasing and earnest fingers making quick work of clothing and sensitive, erogenous zones.

The hard part is not the question, it's the answer. It's about how he allowed himself to get into this position knowing it would end with him summoning the strength to slip out from under the golden covers and return to his duties and the married life he will be living the moment the blessed union rune hits his skin.

Because the thing is- the bitter, horrible, honest thing is that Alec knew going into this that it was a bad idea. He was well aware of the millions upon millions of reasons why he shouldn't have sought out Magnus for one night together. He was well aware of how much it would hurt to do this, to touch and be touched, to like and be liked, to love and- (he bites back the responding word, because he doesn't think he could survive it being thought) and leave in the morning to marry Lydia Branwell and he still pulled Magnus in anyway. He still let Magnus guide him across the apartment and into the bed, nothing but trust and affection in those golden-brown eyes.

Because Alec is selfish.

Because he knows he needs this. If he is going to sacrifice his life to save his siblings from the ramifications of their stupidity, he wanted one night of happiness. He wanted one night where he doesn't just have to imagine and dream up what uncomplicated affection feels like. He wanted to have one glowing jewel of a memory to take with him the rest of his life, no matter it would hurt after the fact.

And now his eyes burn as he slowly unentangles his impossibly heavy limbs from around Magnus' waist and slides out from under the sheets without waking the man sleeping next to him. Every time he blinks he can see Magnus' smile behind his eyelids, the way his eyes had lit up when he laughed, the way his glamour dropped when Alec kissed him with a fervour he's only ever reserved for training in the past, but he can't let that stop him from getting dressed, from pulling back on his pants and shirt and lacing up his boots. He has to leave early so he can go back to the Institute and punch that training bag to fucking pieces in time to get ready for the wedding.

Alec is careful to be quiet as he pulls his stele from his back pocket, activates his Silence rune, and carefully moves toward the door. He can't wake Magnus before he escapes. He can't bear to look Magnus in the eye as he turns his back on the only good thing he's ever had in his own right, not shared with any of his siblings, not shared with the Institute. This has to be a clean cut. He cannot bear a jagged wound that will fester until the day it blows up in his face.

Alec's hand hits the handle to the exit and-

"You can't do this, Alexander," a voice rasps from behind Alec, and Alec nearly jumps because despite all of his runes, all of his Nephilim senses, he didn't hear the padding of Magnus' feet across the hardwood floor. His body could never register Magnus as a threat, no matter the fact that he owns Alec's bow and quiver, despite the fact that he has Alec's heart tucked in beneath his ribs, forever his.

(Because, some part of Alec's mind whispers, not despite. Because Magnus has his bow. Because he has Alec's heart. Because, because, because.)

"Can't do what?" Alec asks, and his own voice comes out cracking like he never let it during puberty, when all of these forbidden feelings started rising in his chest as he claimed himself a parabatai who would never, could never, know what the pressure Alec kept his feelings clamped tight to his chest meant.

"Leave without looking me in the eye," Magnus says, and Alec still hasn't turned to look at him. He can't bear to look at Magnus undone in the morning, a set of pajama pants slung perfectly low on his hips as he spits, "You've never pegged me as a coward, Lightwood," cruel like he has never been before. But then again, Alec has never been this cruel before, either. He has never hurt Magnus like he is about to hurt him.

"I'm not a coward," Alec says, despite the fact that he is. Of course he is. He has to be. He has to run away from this moment, this beautiful, brilliant, lovely man, if he wants to save his family.

"Then look me in the fucking eye, Alexander," Magnus says, and his voice is wet. Choked. On the verge of crying.

And Alec is the one doing that to him.

A sob is rising to Alec's lips. This is the choice he didn't want to have to make. This is the moment he was so scared of facing.

How can he give up the best man he has ever met? How can he sacrifice the greatest joy he has ever felt? How can he do this to someone who has never been anything but kind and flirty and affectionate toward him?

Why did Alec have to make the stupid decision of leaving Institute last night? Why did he have to meet the right one at the wrong time?

Why does it have to be him? Why does it have to be Alec giving things up, over and over again, sacrificing over and over again for people who he loves despite the fact that they don't always seem to love him back?

Alec has to leave before his sense of self-control slips from his fingers, before he takes off towards Magnus and not towards the door. He has to get out of here while he still has the right priorities in mind, while he can still hold up his siblings' and parents' futures up above his own fleeting happiness.

He swings open the door and runs, choking back everything that wants to rip itself loose.

---

Seven hours later, Magnus enters the Institute chapel, hair pulled up, makeup on, armor bedecked for war. Alec knows him without saying a word, knows what Magnus' lips feel like against his skin, knows what it feels like to shatter someone's heart between his shaking, aching fingers.

And he knows he cannot bear to do it again.

The click echoes across tile floors, not hardwood ones, as he takes a step forward. As he steps down and away from the destiny that has been laid out for him since he was a child laying his hand on his first bow and understanding how this weapon, considered so weak by his trainers, was meant to be his. How he was meant to protect and defend, not to be the hero saving the day with a flashy sword. As he understands that for once, for fucking once, he doesn't have to play the long game. He doesn't have to play the long-range weapon.

He strides forward and his mother puts out her hand and Alec says, "No."

No, I will not trade myself for you.

No, I will not give up golden sheets and golden eyes and a golden laugh.

No, I can't do this anymore, sacrificing everything for you, because it nearly tore me apart this morning and I don't think there will be anything left of me to give if I let you keep taking.

Alec's hands land on Magnus' lapels and pull him in for a desperate kiss. Magnus still smells like sandalwood and tastes of lemongrass and lipstick and if Magnus will let Alec keep doing this for the rest of his life, then Alec will gladly take any moment that Magnus will offer him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44650768

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #ao3 #fanfic #cross posted on ao3 #missing scene #canon divergence #one night stand #impliedsexual content #self-sacrificing alec lightwood #my boy #angst with a happy ending #bc they both deserve it #alec lightwood deserves nice things #aletterinthenameofsanity

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helennorvilles · 3 years

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so my desk does fit in the way i was imagining, BUT it doesn’t like opening or closing on carpet so....... a medium kind of a win???

#i just gotta buy something to sit beneath it so it doesn't scrape on carpet and instead can slide on a mat or smthn #which isn't that hard like maybe i get a small rug that's thin or i get one of those plastic sheets people use under wheely chairs #i think i'll leave it up for now and just carefully slide past it every time i need to move??#alternately i physically leap OVER my bed and go around it that way but that feels like more work than a careful slide #anyway my beautiful desk is beautiful and i built it all myself and i love <3<3<3 #now (THEORETICALLY anyway) i will be more productive with writing bc i won't be lying in bed all the time lol #my post tag

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

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Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [1]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, mentions of alcohol, SMUT *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: 2.8k, half of which is probably filth

taglist: @from-xero

{this is a work of fiction}

"i'm sorry, i just... i just don't see you that way."

the boy tries his hardest not to choke (or sob) as he lowers his head, the bouquet of flowers in his hands crinkling when he brings it down to his side.

he huffs, using his tongue to poke the inner sides of his cheeks as his grimace pulls out into a smirk.

you look at him with utmost guilt, fingers awkwardly intertwined with one another as you scan the distraught on his face.

"so..." he slowly nods, looking up from the floor. "not even the most popular person on campus can win you over, huh?"

the label strikes a chord in you.

honestly, you were just waiting for him to say those words. you hadn't expected the campus star boy to confess to you tonight, much less at his own graduation party.

he was two years your senior and frankly way out of your league - leaving you with absolutely no clue how he came about to develop feelings for you.

you had wondered if he was merely capitalising on your growing reputation as the 'innocent heartbreaker'.

the pretty, new, freshman who just couldn't seem to stop heads from turning.

one of those heads was his.

wooseok scoffs, obviously unhappy and dissatisfied with your response.

how dare the pretty freshman reject the hottest boy on campus?

"okay," wooseok nods, still holding out the flowers to you. "at least take the flowers, would you?"

grimly picking the golden-wrapped roses from him, you scan his eyes, glossed with a layer of tears as his nose sours.

"wooseok-"

"no, don't," he interrupts you, sucking in a deep breath as he puffs out his chest. the yelling from outside his bedroom door calls the both of your attention.

"the party's still going on until morning, are you staying?"

with a light shake of your head, you hug the flowers close to your chest. your heart slows down, calming from the fact that he had brought you in here just to confess and not something else you were afraid of.

the guilt sinks in when you realise you didn't trust wooseok all that much.

"okay, well..." he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. the silver shine off the school's logo on the varsity jacket glimmers under the room's ceiling light. "at least stay until we finish the first bottle of vodka? we have games later."

"oh, wooseok, i can't-"

"come on," he reaches forward and grabs your hands, his hands hot and warm. probably from the adrenaline he had to give himself to make this feat. "the first bottle."

you look up from his fingers and at his face, his fringe covering his eyes and casting sharp-angled shadows all over his lids.

your lips part, but before you can even utter a sound, he hops right in and exclaims with a grin on his face. "great! i'll see you around and come find me when you're leaving, okay?"

the smile lines extend from the sides of his nose and down to his lips, the shadow lines on his cheeks shifting as he turns on his heels, hands sliding off yours.

"i'll-" he points to his door, already reaching for the handle. "yeah. bye."

wooseok pulls the door open for him to exit, and right before he can shut the door behind him, his eyes come between the gap to take one last look at you.

the door clicks shut after he moves off first, and you're left with the roses in your arms, standing in the middle of his room, having just rejected the most sought-after bachelor in the school.

looking down at the roses once more, your finger-pads rub against the velvet petals, heart aching for him.

the neon lights in his room were casting a bright blue hue all over the walls and the carpeted ground, trophies for baseball and customised bats decorating almost every corner.

you turn to his bed, thinking of leaving the flowers on the cushion and leaving quietly through his window.

but your train of thought violently snapped into two when the party outside yells, followed by the loud thunking of the bass throughout the house.

the flowers are a reminder of how shit of a person you are.

you didn't ask to be a heartbreaker.

people tend to think you find joy in rejecting the brave ones who get their feelings across but you don't. not at all.

carefully laying the bouquet of flowers back onto his bed, you pull the door of his room open and step out into the hallway, the music blasting like everyone was deaf and hard of hearing.

the crowd in the living room comes into view when you start walking down the stairs - everybody jumping on beat to the likes of superbass and people yelling the all-time classic rap.

your knuckles whiten from gripping onto the wooden railings, unable to return yourself to the party when you've done broken the heart of the host himself.

so you turn on your heels, deciding to return to his room and crawl out through his window - only to be met by someone else.

"party's downstairs."

if you were the innocent heartbreaker...

then eric son was the vicious one - the male, sluttier equivalent of you.

"oh, well... party's not for me," you offer a tiny smile, slightly embarrassed to be caught making a u-turn.

eric tilts his head to the side, holding out an arm and resting it on the wooden railings. you lower your head, taking a step to your left in a bid to walk past him.

but you're stopped yet again by his arm reaching out, palm pressing flat into the concrete as he looks down at you.

you don't realise your fists are clenched (and sweating) until you rub them onto your dress.

"look, eric- i- i had a bad day and i just-"

"so walk out the front door," he raises a single brow, taking a step down and removing his hand off the wooden railing.

your feet fumble around each other in a bid not to topple down the stairs. turning to face you, he forces you to step back to maintain the safe distance between you.

"i don't want to make a scene-" the bad habit of picking your nails returns when your back hits the wall, and eric's standing an uncomfortable distance from you now.

"oh," he lifts his free hand and mirrors the other, keeping your neck between his forearms. but you are the scene. you can't just... leave."

a flustered chuckle runs through your throat as you lean your head back against the wall. "i don't have the time for this."

"make time for me," eric cocks his head to the side and glances down near the bottom of your face. "you can tell me about your bad day."

"i think i'll be fine on my own, thank you," carefully squatting and trying to shrink out from the wall-eric sandwich, your brows furrow as you shift.

but eric son buckles his arm and halves the distance he has between your faces, the sudden surge forcing you back upright.

now his breath is hot on your jaw and you turn away from him, lips pursed into a thin, tight line.

"the 'innocent heartbreaker'," he gently hums, fingers reaching up to play with the curled locks fallen around your upper arms. the fleeting brushes of his skin across yours draw out chills, and a harsh inhale twitches your facial expressions to his liking. "i can see why boys would fall for this."

with your eyes still glued to the party downstairs, you part your lips, wanting to explain yourself.

then eric, with the weight of feathers, reaches up to your chin and tilts it towards him.

his lips are parted as he slides his tongue across his teeth. he sighs softly, eyes travelling from yours to your lips and back up.

by now, you can feel his breath on your philtrum.

"you're pretty," he whispers, almost against your lips.

and your stomach plummets when he pulls away completely, the cool air rushing in to replace the bodily heat.

without breaking eye contact, even for a single second, eric pushes himself off the wall. lips drawn out into a wide smile, he adjusts his jacket and runs his hand through his hair.

"but not that pretty."

you don't realise your heart's racing until you feel your chest heaving, unknowingly panting from the unruly interaction the vicious heartbreaker has just provided you.

the world finally seeps back into view and into complete perfect audio, the music finally rumbling through you again when your eyes trail after eric, walking into the crowd jumping in the living room.

the taste of iron seeps out from the inside of your lips, and you dart your tongue across the mark that your teeth have left on your flesh.

clearing your throat and shaking the thought of eric out of your head, you turn back up the steps and head back into wooseok's bedroom.

the blue hues of the room start to sink into your consciousness again, the yellow shade of the bouquet wrap looking more like green under the lighting.

you take a moment to fester - over wooseok, over your reputation, over eric.

college just started and here you were, feeling guilty over something that wasn't even your fault.

the final decision comes to rest on your fingers in the form of pulling wooseok's window open, carefully lifting your feet and crawling under the glass.

now, troublemaker was playing, muffled but definitely loud enough to be heard at least 3 houses down the road. you climb onto the roof of his garage, eyes scanning to cars parked outside and along the road.

you stride to the side where you know wooseok had a wooden plating attached to one of the walls, fake vines intertwined between the planks.

it's a relief when your feet meet the concrete ground, and nobody was in sight - until you back up into someone's chest and you turn to find eric, again.

"what in the world-"

he cuts you off by grabbing your waist, slotting his lips between yours and holding your chin to align your faces.

you were nearly bought into it, but the consciousness seeps back into you and you rip your face off his, palms one his chest with his hands still on your waist.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"i could ask you the same thing."

"you already know I'm leaving."

"you can't leave just yet."

"why the hell not?"

"because I'm not done with you."

with a low huff, he hoists you up onto his hips, lips crashing onto yours as he walks you backwards, your shoulder blades hitting the wall where you had climbed down from.

there's a gentle rattle when he keeps you up against the wooden planks, his palms riding the skirt of your dress up and over your hips.

his fingers slide under the material of your underwear hugging your pelvis, hot skin gripping onto the flesh of your rear.

then you hear a tear amongst the mess he's making on your lips, and the material of your underwear loosens.

"what the-"

"shh," he smirks, now turning his head into your neck to nip on your jaw. your chest heaves from the sensitivity, the fluttering sensation of his lips on your neck drilling chills all through you. "make a sound and everyone will know you couldn't say no to me."

conscience returns to you for a split second.

"eric- we can't-"

before you can finish your sentence, eric drags the thin material out from under you and dangles it before you, his eyes clouded and dark.

the darkened patch of material on your underwear washes your face in pink and heat.

"you were saying?"

your stomach plummets, and you now register the coolness on your core. eric smiles, rolling up the material to shove it into his pocket.

"eric-" your fingers dig into his left forearm as they return to the wall by your head, his right carefully undoing his belt.

the clink of the metal followed by the zipper coming undone forms a knot in your stomach already, then his fingers coming to spread your neediness all over you forces a sharp whimper up your lungs.

"I've done nothing..." he shakes his head, sliding a single finger up and down your core. "and you are so wet."

he lifts his finger from under your skirt, his fingers glistening under the sharp, fluorescent lighting.

your hooded lids are just about tearing with the overwhelming ache that's throbbing through you, and he makes it worse by running his tongue all over his finger.

eric's pride swells when a whine escapes your throat, and he presses himself into you, chest against yours with his hands digging into your thighs. your arms circle around his shoulders, pulling him closer for a deep, slow kiss.

he prods against you, the throbbing ache spiking when his manhood rubs against your core. groaning into the kiss, your entire being squirms between him and the wall with the muffled music still blasting from the living room.

he doesn't bother to wait for you before he finds his manhood and aligns it with your entrance, gently prodding before sliding himself in like it was meant to be.

he buries himself inside you by holding your thighs around his hips even tighter, drawing a low and prolonged moan from your lips.

eric pulls away, pressing his forehead into yours to let you breathe. but he finds some kind of sadistic pleasure when he pulls his hips away, only to slam right back in, earning a sharp yelp from you.

"go any louder, princess, and i won't be the only one enjoying this."

he grins to himself, licking his lips before diving into your neck and picking at all the right spots. every kiss and nibble earned him a moan or a mewl and it ruins your pride over and over to know that you had just broken someone's heart tonight.

yet you were outside that someone's house, letting eric rail you like he owned you.

your fingers claw and grip at his shirt as you feel your back jerk and rock against the wooden plank. with every thrust he offers you, he sounds like he's laughing and panting at the same time, the hot breath on your neck making you writhe in a guilty pleasure.

he offers a few slower thrusts before grabbing your chin to look at him, eyes slightly fucked out and your thighs tired from keeping your body locked to his.

slowly pulling out and sliding back in, he takes the time to revel in the way your brows furrow and your lips fall apart, your curled hair now a mess around your chest and shoulders.

"that's it, princess," he leans into your ear and coos. "tell me how good that feels."

unable to form a coherent word in your head, you whine in response, pulling his face to yours and planting your lips onto his with every ounce of energy left in you.

his hands fumble under your skirt and find your sensitivity, pressing his thumb flat onto you. the pressure jerks you upwards and he takes the opportunity to reposition himself, changing the angle ever so slightly.

by some miracle, the tip of him buried inside you finds the magic spot, and when he picks up his pace, the knot starts to find you in eternal bliss.

eric pulls away again, huffing as he thrusts himself into you, fingers flicking and abusing you as if your legs weren't already shaking and convulsing around his hips.

"good girl," his breath is heavy on your jaw as he plants a few wet kisses there, his pants bringing you to some newer heights. your vision starts to fade into white with a few more thrusts and his fingers dig into your thighs when your lower body starts to spasm.

muscles flexing, your entire body squirms and trembles as you meet your high.

then eric hurriedly pulls out, the hot fluid dribbling all over the ground under you.

while you come down from your high, eric's strained grunts rumble through his torso under your arms. the vein that popped out on his neck was still there, and your senses only allow enough for you to focus on eric now.

he bites on his bottom lip and pushes his hair back with a deep inhale. he turns to you, eyes wide open and clear.

"not such an innocent princess now, are you?"

#nevertheless: wishful thinking #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #eric smut #eric scenarios #eric imagines #tbz smut #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #eric sohn scenarios #eric sohn smut #eric sohn imagines #eric x reader smut #eric x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz x reader

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love-toxin · 3 years

Text

cw: injuries, yandere tohma, gn! reader

"so...how long do I have to play along with this little game of yours?"

the question spills out of his mouth without warning, yet each word is methodical, careful, like he's practiced it a thousand times before. the teapot clutched in your hands nearly slips out and shatters over the table you've laid out for the two of you, but the warmth of the porcelain fortunately keeps you steady enough until you can set it down in the space between you two. Tohma was kind enough to bring you a gift after spending awhile away, tending to his duties--so it's only natural that you would take him out for some tea in exchange. it's courtesy. it's expected.

but his question certainly is not.

"I...I have no idea what you're talking about, Tohma."

"really?"

he's sat cross-legged for some time now, waiting as you ordered the tea and offering you some idle chit-chat befitting a pair that haven't seen the other in a while. Tohma has always been your friend even when you were young, but as is custom in a place like Inazuma, your relationship has evolved throughout the years. there are things you can't say anymore, things that would ruin your life if you were caught doing them...and now, you fear, the glint in Tohma's eyes may be an omen that he's about to commit one of those unholy acts.

"come on now, sweetheart, everybody can see the truth for what it is. there's no need to hide it any longer."

he's purposely tiptoeing around the question, waiting for the pieces to click in your mind. he need not say anything at all, however--the way he looks at you in this moment, and the purpose with which he stands from his place at the tea table is enough to set your jaw tight and your eyes to darken.

"you know that I was always meant to be your husband. to be there for you through thick and thin, to care for you when we're both old and gray-"

he takes a few quick steps around it to get to you, to kneel at your side and reach out his hands to pull yours into them, and it's all you can do not to flinch away and risk the image of impropriety. but you've endured this lecture before, and the only thing screaming inside your head is for you to resist--just resist, don't listen to a word he says, and bite your tongue of any insult until he finally gives up and gets the hint.

"Tohma, stop."

"-to treasure you like no one else will. I understand your point of view, I really do--we're still young, and the world outside of Inazuma seems so big and grand...but you have to realize that the time to settle down is coming for us."

he rubs his thumb over your hand and smiles in your direction, but you can't meet his eyes. and then it's slipping out of your grasp and raising up to your face, and you feel yourself stiffen all over as Tohma gently cups your cheek, his gaze lowering towards your mouth as if he has an idea of what he wants to do. but that would be grounds for you to shriek for a guard, and you're entirely certain that that's the only reason he bites his lip to stave off the desire.

"you were always meant to be mine. you believe in fate, and you've always put your trust in me...so why not let me help you?"

that last part comes as a whisper, the tearoom private but the walls still thin. one of the many secrets you've entrusted to Tohma over the years is your disagreement with Inazuma's strict laws, as well as the etiquette that comes with being a member of the higher class. you've always despised being noble, and Tohma has always understood you, at least you thought so....but ever since he's gotten this ludicrous idea in his head, you've known even less peace than usual.

"I've said it a dozen times, Tohma, and I won't say it again. I'm not marrying you."

you do your best to spit the words out with as much venom as you can muster, yet you still feel the twinge of anxiety at snapping at him so informally. it could spell the end for you quite easily, but when your eyes are drawn back to Tohma's expression, all you can see is bliss written all over his face.

"...even laced with contempt, my name sounds so sweet on your lips. you've so much wit, so much grace, and your beauty leaves me breathless...I know how little you think of me, but-"

fury shoots through every vein of your body, and you know it's the wrong move when you slap his hand away from your face, the smack like a thunderclap in the small space of the little tearoom.

"enough, Tohma! enough. do yourself a favour and stop speaking to me--in fact, I dearly hope you never say a word to me again."

each finger on his hand twitches, only to close in a tight fist and sink back down to his lap. you try to avoid his gaze in this moment, but even turning your head away you can still feel his eyes staring right into your soul.

"you know I can't make that promise. you know that I love you."

that word makes you stiffen, your grip lock on your noble dressings, your blood turn to ice in your veins. you've avoided that for so long but it follows you like a demon, and it's eyes glow a verdant green as Tohma's words melt into your skin and eat you alive from the inside out.

"this feeling of yours....it's not mutual, Tohma. just leave it, and leave me."

you say so, but you're the one that stands from the tea table in the end, and Tohma jumps to get to his feet to follow you. he trails on your heels as you step with purpose towards the door and slide it open, the cool chill of Inazuma city in the night prickling your exposed skin. the blond hurries to get in front of you, and the moment you spot a few other citizens on the path this late at night, you tilt your head down and pray to the gods that Tohma won't force you into impropriety.

"...I see. you won't budge on this, then...I will have to accept that. but may I at least escort you home? I can't in good faith allow you to wander alone in the dark. I still care for you."

he looks down on you with a softness to his features, and you hate how easily you buckle under any sort of pressure from him. you prided yourself on not giving in before, but when you're not alone it's not nearly as easy--you have to piece your words so carefully together, and by the time you think of an excuse it will already be too late for you to reject his offer. so with as subtle of a huff as you can manage, you speak softly under your breath that you suppose that's fine, and grit your teeth as you thank him for the offer. and Tohma is all too relieved to stand beside you as you walk down the hill and leave the prying ears of the city, the silence near unbearable between you as you meander through the path cut down the middle of the farmer's fields.

"seems there's no one around. not a surprise for this time of the night."

it's not a terribly long walk back to your family's estate, but Tohma still evidently feels the need to speak up as you reach the end of the gently sloping hill. Konda village lies within sight in the distance, and you feel the tension weigh heavy on your heart as you count the steps closer and closer to safety. relative safety that is.

you're so focused on paying him as little attention as possible that you don't even take notice to his hand drawing closer to yours and his eyes wandering up and down your figure, practically salivating as the flames in his chest burn hotter and hotter, until the moment he can't take any more and he grabs you by the shoulders to stop you and force you to look him straight in the eyes.

"now, you're going to listen very closely. I'm going to give you a little gift, because I love you so very much. you get a minute's head start."

the shock catches you off guard to the point that you bite your own tongue, fear and panic shooting through you like icicles that make you freeze in place. Tohma's expression is so intense he nearly appears feral, pearly teeth glimmering in the light from the moon as he grins down at you like a predator examining their prey.

"here's the deal, sweetheart--if you can run all the way past Konda village, you win. but if I catch you, I win, and you must uphold your promise and marry me in a month's time. and if you win, you'll get your wish--I'll never speak a word to you again."

terror grips you even harder than Tohma is, and at his proposal you whip your head towards the village in the distance and then back to him. if he's seriously not making some kind of sick joke, then there's absolutely no way you would ever make it. you're not a fighter, you don't even know how to hold a sword much less have a vision, and you've seen the kinds of things Tohma is capable of....he'll catch you before you make it anywhere close.

"Tohma-"

his gaze lingers on you for a moment, before he turns you in the direction of the village and pushes you forward, only hard enough for you to stumble a bit. you want to question him, to try and talk him down from such an insane idea, but once you hear him start counting down aloud your feet move on their own and you take off in a pitiful run down towards your target. the night air whips by your face as you try to sprint as best you can, yet your robes that give away your nobility get caught on your sandals and trip you up enough that it makes your heart jump into your throat. your heart pounds in a cage that feels too tight, the air heavy and raw in your lungs the longer you fumble your way forwards in the night. even your tears feel cold as they stream down your face, and if speaking wouldn't expend your precious energy then you would surely be wailing for Tohma to stop, please, he's scaring you. especially once you hear his footsteps take off, and it feels as though his warm breath is right on the back of your neck.

but even so, you look up within moments to find yourself in the middle of the quiet little village, the lanterns dim and only the glow of the moon casting light on the humble little buildings. the panic ceases but resurges just as quickly when you remember that you're not safe yet, that the entrance to the village is still a few hundred metres away--and you can hear Tohma panting now, at a distance close enough that he'll make a grab for you long before you'll ever get there. but there's something you know that he probably doesn't remember, and it might just be your saving grace as you duck into the shadows and skirt around the mayor's house just as he skids into the path of the village. you fear in the pit of your stomach that getting the top off the well that you used to play near as children would make a great deal of noise, but you hurry forward and find it open--and just as you swing a leg over to climb inside and pray that Tohma doesn't think to look for you here, your foot slips on the stone that's still damp from the rain and your world is overturned as you fall through the air. it's not far enough that you can scream or grab for purchase on something, but when you land you hear the sickening crack of something breaking and pain that shoots through your leg so quick that it almost makes you black out.

but something worse is yet to come, and it's Tohma's voice calling out your name, before you look up to the sky and your heart just sinks as you watch his face pop into view over the side of the well.

"oh, archons--baby, are you all right?! did you hurt yourself?"

he hops over the edge quite easily and falls steady on his feat, not even having broken a sweat from chasing you as he hurries to your side and props you up in the crook of his arm. and despite still feeling that twinge of discomfort and panic from him touching you, the agony sets in so deeply that you cling to him without realizing as tears pour down your face and you struggle to breathe.

"let me see...yeah, that's definitely broken. c'mere, I'll help you up.."

just brushing the pads of his fingers over the rapidly-swelling skin of your calf makes you flinch and cry out with pain, and it's obvious by the deep bruising how bad you've hurt it--you wouldn't be able to climb out of here if you tried. but Tohma finds so little trouble in heaving you up into his arms that it's laughable....it would be funny how sincerely you thought you could get away in the first place, if you weren't experiencing the consequences now. and only now is it starting to sink in that you lost, even though he isn't rubbing it in your face. yet.

"poor thing--that was scary, wasn't it? aren't you glad I was here?"

despite how despairing you look, he rubs his cheek against yours as he holds you tight. you realize now how much he's always wanted to do this, and how he's dragging this all out while he has the chance to do it without anyone watching....it's such a rare opportunity, but you don't feel nearly as lucky as he does.

"I'll always be here, sweetie....in sickness and in health, right?"

he murmurs into the shell of your ear, before pressing a kiss to it right afterwards as he reaches out to get a foothold so he can lift you out of here. all you can think about now is how your chance of escaping him has slipped away....and now, your status is a death sentence in the hands of the man who saved your life, and will ask for nothing in return but your gentle hand in marriage. how romantic.

#tohma #tohma x reader #tohma genshin impact #thoma x reader #thoma genshin #genshin impact #yandere tohma #yandere thoma #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader

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spideyspeaches · 3 years

Text

Sweet child ‘o mine ↬ a.r

sweet smily babie

A/N: Requests are open btw! I love writing Arvin and I don’t have any arvin requests so you can request for arvin btw :)

Request by @kelieah : okay okay. let's get to it hehe. arvin right? oh my god you should write a dad!arvin 🥺🥺🥺 and reader is pregnant but he's like super protective and lowkey a wreck bc he doesn't know what he's doing? and reader is probably really close to popping the baby? up to you, can't wait to see what you write! :)

Kk so I went a little overboard with the fluff XD

WC: 1.3k+

Pairing: Dad!Arvin Russell x Pregnant!Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Arvin was a protector by nature. He protected all the people he loved, whether it be his late sister, or his girlfriend, now wife and a mother of two. Before you had your first child, Arvin would constantly hover around you till it annoyed you to the point where you would sleep in a separate room.

("Hun don't lift those! You'll hurt the baby!" Arvin shrieked, rushing towards you as you held the shopping bag in your hand with an amused and angry expression.

You were nearly six weeks pregnant, nowhere near your due date, and yet here you were.

"Arvin, this is one single shopping bag."

"Yes but you shouldn't! I saw what happened to the neighbour's wife when she tried to lift 'er bed!"

"Arvin…" you said, tapping your foot impatiently, dropping the shopping bag near your couch.

He was looking at you with a worried expression. You didn't give him time to answer, instead pulling him for a deep kiss.

And what if you were with a child? You were still horny and he was right there looking like a snack.)

You found the protectiveness endearing, especially watching his gruff exterior cut through like a knife. But you were pregnant and you were grumpy, sick of his overbearing attitude and had finally asked him to leave you alone for two seconds, maybe have a cigarette or two. The poor guy had looked heartbroken that day, just enough for guilt to brew in your heart, but you stood your ground.

That day also happened to be the day your first child, Willy, was born. You had convinced yourself that you would never witness such a site as of your husband holding your firstborn with utmost care and love radiating through his every pore, bobbing the baby’s little head as he hummed some lullaby, his soft voice lulling your tired form to sleep.

“Mummy why is daddy walkin’ like that?” Your four year old son asked, looking at you with his daddy’s big doe eyes, making you coo at his adorable expression.

You were sitting on the couch, nine months with your second child, way past your due date as your son sat besides you, a hand on your rounded belly, smoothing down your dress and “talking” to his brother. You found it cute, already feeling the love the little child was going to get from the second smallest member of the Russell family.

You watched in amusement as Arvin paced the hallway, burning a hole in the rugs as he ran a hand through his hair, messing them up as he cursed softly. He had been like that from the day your second child was about to arrive, only for them to want to stay a little longer in your belly.

"Honey you're gonna bear a hole in there." You said, burrowing your brows as he looked at you. He was a wreck, you could see it in how he tried to work two jobs, only to meet you when you were back in bed.

“Daddy’s a little tense right now hun, he’s… he’s worried why the baby hasn’t come to us yet.” You said, caressing Willy’s head as he snuggled next to you, nodding with a faux serious expression.

“Maybe the babe feels safer in your belly moma, it must feel very much loved.” He said with a toothy grin, bumping his nose to your bump as you laughed, hugging your little boy closer to you, tickling his sides, He shrieked with laughter as you bent down as much as you could to kiss his forehead.

“Well the little bugger has been kicking moma for a while now, I think he really wants to come, just findin’ it a wee difficult.” You said, hissing as you felt another kick under your ribs. Massaging the area just like the way your midwife had told you to. You sent your son a wink, hoping that he wouldn’t get too scared at your state. He, like his father, was also very protective of you and the baby.

Hissing at another contraction, you tried to do your breathing exercise, groaning at the pain you felt.

“Daddy! Daddy moma is hurt!” Willy shouted, getting off the couch and running off to where Arvin had been pacing the room.

“No no no hun! Moma is alright, just a little- oh oh Arvin!” You groaned, stretching your husband's name at a painful contraction as you watch him frantically run towards you, stumbling at the carpet and falling on his knees in front of you.

“Hun? Baby speak to me, how far apart are the pains? Do you think it’s time? Should I-”

“Arvin?” You winced, holding your belly.

“Yes honey?”

“Shut the fuck up and do me a favour, get the bag ready will ya?” You said, clenching your jaw as tightly as you could without breaking your teeth, immediately feeling guilty at his crestfallen expression. He was only trying to help you.

“Yes, yes sweetheart, I'll be right back.” He said, scramming to go to your room to get the bag. You knew he had already packed it, unpacked and repacked it multiple times to keep his mind of the calendar.

“Moma? Are you hurtin’?” You son asked, hearing a sniff. You sighed as you saw tears form in his eyes, running your hands through his hair as he sniffed loudly.

“No bun, it’s nothing bad, moma’s fine. I swear.”

“But you’re crying!” He cried out, launching himself on your chest. You sat down with a “oof”, the weight of your son sending you on your back sprawling on the couch.

“Willy! Be careful!” Arvin shouted, pulling your crying son off of you and palming his head as he buried his face into his father’s shoulder, wrapping his little arms around his neck as Arvin cooed at him, trying to shush his muffled cries.

“It’s gonna be alright bubby, I’m not crying anymore, see?” You gritted, groaning loudly when you felt one resonate to your back, a pop sound startling you enough to widen your eyes.

A breath later, the only thing you could hear was your son’s sniffs and your breathing, the wetness between your thighs amplifying as you gave a loud groan, groping for your husband’s biceps, “It’s happening!”

“Oh- oh fuck shit, sorry hun, Willy, do daddy a favor and open the car will you? We need to take moma to the hospital.” Arvin instructed your son, who obediently nodded, a determined expression taking over his adorable face as he ran outside.

“Arvin!”

“Comin’ sweetheart, just a minute!” He grunted, positioning himself by your side, sliding his one hand under your knees and another at your back, You shrieked as he carried you bridal style, your son holding the door open for you.

You would have called the ride torturous had you not heard the shrill cries of your newborn, squishy wet cheeks and scrunched eyes fitted in the palm of your hands a few hours later. Laughing near hysterically, you gently rocked the newly swaddled baby boy in your arms, looking at your husband’s shiny eyes as he carefully touched the baby’s forehead.

“He’s so tiny.” Arvin whispered, rubbing his thumb on the soft skin, watching in awe as the baby yawned, the little eyes scrunching up as they slowly opened, adjusting around the world in a newfound wonder.

“He’s perfect.” You smiled, seeing your four year old hiding behind Arvin’s legs, watching you unsure of himself, “Come here bun, want to hold your brother?”

“I can hold him?” He asked, peaking at you through his eyelashes.

“Of course you can son.” Arvin chuckled, lifting the toddler as he sat on your bed, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Here, hold his head, careful." You whispered, holding one hand on your older son's hands, guiding him to hold his little brother as he looked at the baby in wonder.

"He's tiny!" Willy said, mimicking you when he saw you holding the baby.

"You were this tiny too once, son." Arvin said, smiling at you and Willy.

"No way! I'm a big boy." Willy argued, pouting, which made you and your husband laugh.

"Whatever you say baby."

#arvin russel x reader #arvin russell smut #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russell #dad!arvin russell x reader #dad!arvin russell #arvin russel fluff #arvin russel x you #the devil all the time #spideygirl writes #queue tea

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genshingarbage · 3 years

Text

Don’t Say Goodbye. || One-Shots ||

I am just in a mood to create broken hearts right now it would appear, this is just a few one-shots on a couple of the boys and my take on how they would act with there s/o dying in their arms due to various reasons based on the character i am writing for. - Mod Diluc

Diluc

The sound of yells grew distant as the vision began to blur from your eyes. The only sensation you could still feel was the tight grasp of your hand in the larger one wrapped round it squeezing it. Diluc was holding you as you laid there on the muddy dirt, resting your bloody and broken body on his legs. Cradling you like a new born while shaking back and forth, trembling in traumatic disbelief over what was taking place before him.

His eyes were swelling with tears threatening to break out and spill down his cheeks, he kept kissing your weak hand gently, each kiss being dragged out longer than the one before, shaky shushes passing his lips in a frail attempt to soothe your weakening body. You'd been adventuring alone again for several weeks away from Mondstat and The Dawn Winery.

You didn't think much of it as you often left for long adventuring trips, bringing back goofy and silly souvenirs for your beloved Diluc, you just didn't realise this time around you'd be ambushed by the Fatui on your long trek back to his winery. Having been unbeknownst to you fatally wounded, you managed to break free and escape, bleeding heavily from your right side, shakily sprinting to the only place you knew could be a safe haven, Dilucs winery.

You'd fallen to the ground in a crumpled heap not barely a few seconds after Diluc spotting you running down the dusty and dirty road. He sprinted to you eyes wide yelling as loud as his vocal chords would physically let him. "Y/N! No!" He skidded and slumped down into the dirt himself, tugging you carefully but quickly into his lap muttering 'No' over and over in rapid breaths. And now you were where you were at, the life slowly but surely leaving you while all you could feel was Dilucs gentle kissing lips and warming embrace.

Does he know how much you love him? Did ever know how much he meant to you? Oh no... the souvenir you'd found for him... you dropped it back when you was ambushed... he would've loved it so much... however likewise with him to you, did you know how much you meant to him? How truly happy he was that he'd finally found someone he could trust and give his life to. Had he ever even said he loves you back? All these questions that were going to be left unanswered to the both of you.

Still trembling he watched as your light dimmed in your eyes, leaning his head down he softly placed a kiss against your unresponsive lips, parting ever so slightly to rest his forehead against yours and whimpering in a broken tone. "I love you, Y/N" When he lifted his head back up he felt the air being squeezed out of his lungs to see your eyes were now closed and there was no longer movement in your body.

He looked up at the night sky, the stars twinkling so beautifully over such a devastating and tragic moment. Closing his eyes he silently prayed the gods take good care of you up there till he can finally be there with you. Lifting up slowly with your now lifeless body bridal style in his arms he began to walk back to his winery, his expression stern and showing no pain. But it was all a facade for inside he was crying and screaming to the heavens and hell for having let this happen to you.

"They will pay Y/N, I promise you. I'll see you again soon; someday."

Childe

The rain was pouring heavily, hitting angrily against the cold hard concrete, the drops splashing up and back down as they landed with such impact. You were wet and cold, but your body had been going numb for minutes now as the blood was leaving your body so quickly. You shakily looked round to see the last attacker being cut down to the floor by your one and only love, Ajax.

The unknown man's body hadn't even hit the floor by the time Ajax had thrown his weapons down and rushed to your side. "Oi oi, come on now, look alive. More will be coming soon." He let out a nervous laugh not wanting to believe what he was seeing in front of him right now. You'd only gone out for a little drink and joke about in the beautiful rainy day, you both enjoyed running around in the rain so much after all. He tapped your cheek gently trying to keep you conscious as he could see your focus leaving you as fast as your blood was.

He pressed his hand against the open wound in your chest; a pitiful attempt to try slow the bleeding. You cursed yourself for not being more alert of your surroundings when that man crept up behind you and ambushed you by surprise. He shook his head vigorously side to side. His mask hiding most of the unbearable pain behind it. He should've known better than to think it was safe to come back to Liyue so soon after having caused such chaos.

Why the fuck did they have to go for you both though, you were innocent from all this it was him they wanted so why, why?! Why you?! He made a soft 'Tsk' sound from his mouth as he choked back the tears while looking at you. You had little vision left, little time too, but with what little strength you had remaining you lifted your hand up gently and pulled his mask off. Wanting to see his face one last time before you're gone from this world.

Exposing his damp cheeks and red eyes to you, you were able to form the smallest smile at him. "Don't... d-don't leave me Y/N, please..." his voice was barely a whisper now as he remained stiff by your side. "I won't..." You coughed back gently, you didn't even try to sound believable with that; you both knew it was a lie and you were on your way out with only seconds to spare.

You were his everything, he knew you was too good for him from the very beginning, yet you was determined to always be by his side. He knew he was a bad guy, a villain, but with you by his side he was able to feel like someone's hero. You meant fucking everything to him so why did someone so pure have to be taken so soon. You coughed gently once more before choosing your last words carefully, knowing they were to be your last.

"Childe- Ajax, you're not a bad guy. I have and will always love you..." Your voice faded into a whisper and then... nothing. Your eyes closed and your hand that had been against his cheek was now limp, the only reason it was still in its prior place was because Childe himself had been applying slight pressure to keep it there. You were gone now, at rest and probably somewhere much better and further away from this hell.

He looked at your resting face just wishing you'd open your eyes again and say it was all just a big terrible joke. But that wasn't the case, however his broken and torn expression immediately dissolved when he heard the rapid steps growing louder. "There he is! Apprehend him now!" One of the guards shouted to the several others. He quietly apologised to your resting form, letting your hand leave his face and finally rest with the rest of your body, he was also sorry as he wasn't gonna be able to give you the burial you deserved, he wasn't gonna be able to use that ring he'd bought you to propose with, and unknowing to him, you wasn't gonna be able to tell him the good news that he would've been a dad.

He lifted up slowly, hair now soaked and water droplets falling from all over his body. The blood leaving your body had began to swirl and dance with the water pooling against the concrete as the heavy rain showed no signs of slowing down. His mask back in his hand before it found its way back on his face, turning and stepping over to his slung down blades and kicking them up into the air grabbing them. Parting his knees swiftly and getting into his battle ready stance. The mask made him look like the bad guy every one claimed him to be, but underneath was the most broken and tormented boy that they'll never know.

"I'll always love you too Y/N, I am sorry but you're wrong, I've always been a bad guy, I just... I tried to be a better one for you."

Xiao

The sky was ablaze, organe and yellow flickering all over, ember floating up and down softly. It was so hot; unbearably so as you were laying on the wooden floor of the top balcony at the Wangshu Inn, blood spilling out of you and soaking the wood all around you. The fire was growing dangerously closer, but did it matter now? You would be dead in a couple more minutes away.

Had everyone escaped the Inn at least? Was everyone safe? You hoped they were. But it was then you felt an instant gust of cold wind wail past you like a roaring monster and die down the flames that had been encircling you and drawing ever so closer. Your vision was nearly gone and it was hard to make out anything except the smoke and fire, but those blue oni mask eyes were unmistakable, Xiao was above you right now.

His hand was hovering over your cheek, still scared that even now he may cause you more pain than comfort in your fleeting moments. "Y/N wake up. Don't be defeated so easily, this is truly pathetic, even for your standards." Harsh words as always, you knew he was sad and just lashing out, his words were cracking and his voice was wavering in its tone. Was that a sniffle? It was hard to make out among the crackling fire destroying the walls and wood around you and his mask muttering and muffling his already quiet words.

Why did they go for you? They wanted him to become nothing anymore, to just slip away and leave the entire history of Liyue to them. Leave the nation built under Rex Lapis to the incapable feeble hands of mortals. He couldn't ever allow that, he refused to back down so easily. But this? Surprise attacking the Inn and burning it down while taking the only mortal who held something to him away? How sick and lowly of them.

You went to speak but all you could muster was a cough as blood spat out your mouth across your bottom lip, your time was fading fast. He swallowed down and removed his mask, a shake in his hand as he did so, resting his proper gaze on your form one last time, allowing you to see him in his first ever vulnerable state, tears slowly falling from his face, letting his hand slide across your cheek gently, swiping the blood off your soft delicate lip. Why did it hurt him so bad? Why was this reaching so deep within him?

All those times he'd sighed and disappeared to get away from you, all those eye-rolls to your silly jokes and huffs to your tedious and pointless tasks. Why did he feel an ache in his throat when he thought about how he won't ever get to experience those annoying moments again? What was this? It couldn't be. Had he truly fallen in love with a mortal? Impossible, but what else could explain this gut wrenching feeling he had swirling inside him.

Everything was crumbling apart around him but his focus remained on you as you looked at him with those eyes, those same eyes that often stared at him with hope and admiration, now they stared with soft kindness and fleeting wishes. If this was love then he wasn't ready to have it taken from him so soon, but what could he do except watch as you left this world. He gritted his teeth together and his hand clenched tightly round his blood stained spear. This was truly unforgivable. If only he had killed those monsters sooner, got to you quicker... maybe then he could've saved you.

"I..." he began to stutter gentle words out while stroking his thumb delicately across your cheek, why hadn't he just swallowed his pride and touched you sooner? Why hadn't he just admitted this to himself quicker and embraced you. You had always been there for him despite his many harsh rejections, you were nothing but kind and truthful, loyal and honest to him and now? He resented himself for not having taken the chance to love that he had had in his grip for so long. Your vision was gone now and your ears were following quickly behind. "I... Y/N..."

Just spit it out already, before the time runs out for you- "Y/N I love you..." he looked at your face searching for a response but you were gone now. The gods had given you all the time they could spare and unfortunately it wasn't long enough to Xiao. It wasn't fair. He couldn't even let you know how he truly felt before you were ripped from him. Tears rolled down his face faster now, but the sorrow and pain he felt quickly welded into anger and inner rage boiling at the highest temperature.

He frowned deeply, lifting up from your body, hiding his broken expression behind his oni mask once again, shakily breathing in with a deep sigh, the shake in his hands slowly dissolving as his mind set itself onto a new mission, he turned and walked to the banister of the balcony and swiftly lifted up onto the top, looking over the landscape around him as the only place he'd truly ever known as home was burning to ash around him. He turned round taking one last longing look at your lifeless form and then leapt high into the air soaring through the skies, straight for Liyue.

You never wanted this, he knew that, you'd never want him to cause a war over your death, but you wasn't here to talk reason into him anymore. He was never gonna see your annoyingly beautiful face again, and this was all Liyues fault. They had to pay, and if that meant causing a war between humans and Adepti... then so be it.

"Forgive me Y/N, but without you here now, I see no reason to keep caring for these monsters. I'll hope you'll understand when I see you again one day."

176 notes · View notes

hwangsies · 3 years

Text

just the two of us

pairing: idol!lee minho × idol!f reader

warnings: smut as in, masturbation (f), softdom!minho (?), choking, thigh riding, somewhat denied orgasm i guess lol, swearing and bad descriptions of dancing

wc: idk maybe 2k?

enjoy <3

"hi guys, im on my way to the jyp building right now" you speak into the vlogging camera.

"...where i'm meeting stray kids lee know sunbaenim to study a choreography for us to perform at the upcoming awardshow" you smile into the camera, holding a thumbs up as you try to conceal your nervousness.

You know that the vlog isnt going to be released until after the show so you dont have to worry about spoiling anything.

"I'll see you guys later" you wave into the camera before handing it back to your manager who lets you know that you'll be there in about 10 minutes.

The only thing you're worried about is meeting a certain very handsome main dancer you may or may not have been biasing since his debut, which was about six months before your group had theirs.

So naturally, when your group grew big with you as their maindancer, and the organizers of the awardshow suggested that you and minho get together for a collaboration stage, you freaked.

Once you pull up to the jyp building, you can make out dispatch paparazzi and roll your eyes.

Your manager just reminds you to ignore them before getting out and opening the door for you.

Quickly you grab your bag and pull your jackets hood over your head.

They start calling your name but you and your team are quick to be inside of the building.

The nice woman behind the front desk gives your manager acsess cards as you look around to see the young camera woman on your team is already pointing the vlog camera on you so you wave into the camera.

Outside you see a crowd of fans also waving and pointing their phones at you through the large glass windows so you also wave back at them; laughing when one of them sends you a flying kiss, so you send one back.

"lets go y/n" your manager speaks to you, and you nod, waving goodbye to the fans before disappearing from their eyes as you step into an elevator.

Inside the elevator you check yourself out in the large mirror, pulling back your hood and smoothing out your hair.

"how do i look?" You ask your manager at which she grins "you look good, relax"

You sigh and nod, clearing your throat as to avoid a voice crack later.

When the elevator doors open, you see the famous dance practice rooms, that are named after big musicians on each side of the hall.

The door to the Madonna room is open and your manager leads the way.

Once you walk in you see another camera pointed at you, minho is standing in the middle of the room.

He as well has a camera pointed at him, he smiles when you lock eyes and bows.

You bow back when he walks towards you; extending his hand, you shake it.

"I'm Minho, nice to meet you" he smiles, he looks even better in person you think.

He's wearing light makeup but you can see that his skin is smooth underneath and his eyes seem even bigger and spraklier in person.

"Y/n, hi, nice to meet you" you bow again, partly to hide your blushing face.

After a minute of somewhat awkward smalltalk you hand your jacket and bag to your manager and the choreographer positions the two of you.

You had already memorized your part of the dance from the video he sent you and minho (you're assuming), now you just had to practice it together.

He makes you stretch to warm up before starting the music to see how much the two of you know of the dance.

Everything goes smoothly and the choreographer praises the both of you.

"lets go ahead and try the lift, im assuming you didnt practice that yet?" He asks.

"no" minho shakes his head, you do as well.

"okay minho, you hold her here" he takes minhos hand and places it on your waist.

"and on the inner thigh so you can spin her better" he explains, your mind starts running though.

What if he feels your inner thigh fat, or even worse, what if you sweat excessively and he slips and drops you.

Your thoughts get disrupted when minho carefully wraps his arm around you to grap onto your thigh.

"is that okay?" He asks from behind you, the little hairs on your neck rising.

"yea" you nod.

"okay, on my count" the choreographer speaks up "one, two..three and up!"

You tense your body when you feel him lifting you, your arms raise on their own accord, legs stiffening to create an aesthetic sillouette.

"very nice" the choreographer claps after minho lets you back down.

"lets take a break" one of the jyp staff members announces.

"you were great" you feel minhos hand graze your arm, your head whips around.

"oh, thank you" you smile sheepishly "so were you" earning a grin from him.

"thanks" he nods, grabbing a bottle of water before giving you one as well.

"thanks" you say, opening it and taking a few sips.

He watches you for a second before doing the same.

"hey, you guys" a young jyp staff woman comes up to you "we're gonna do a little sit down q&a moment, to give the fans some more interaction alright?" she explains, leading you guys to sitdown on the large sofa in the back of the room.

She moves back behind the cameras "so we're gonna be really casual okay? Im gonna throw in some questions and you just answer them"

You and minho nod, looking at each other before looking back at her.

"okay, so have you ever met before?"

"uh- well" you look at minho, he nods, encouraging you to talk "we've seen eachother at music shows, when we were with our members but we never talked" you say.

Minho nods.

"What did you think when you heard of this collaboration?"

Minho starts "i was excited because i think y/n has great stage presence and is a very talented dancer, so i think i could learn a thing or two from her"

"oh, thank you" you huff, surpressing a giggle as you bow slightly.

"What about you, y/n?"

"Uhm- well i was a little scared to be honest because he's really talented himself" you look over at him, so see he's smiling onto the ground "but also because i've been a fan of his since skz debuted so..."

"really?"

After coming back to the dorm and your members pressing you for every detail of what it was like to meet him and dance with him, you hop straight in the shower.

The warm water prickles at your face before you turn around, letting it run down your back.

You cant stop thinking about the feeling of his hands on your body, they were so strong and warm.

Or the one part of the chorepgraphy where you grind back into him and feel his muscular thighs flexed against the back of your own.

Not to mention his pretty smile and plump rosy lips, you would bet everything that he's a phenomenal kisser.

Your hand is trailing down your body as you imagine it was his, gently running over your mound before dipping into your folds.

A whimper slips past your lips out of frustration, its been way to long since someone had his way with you.

The idol life doesnt always leave time for that, but you can imagine what it would be like if you let minho have his way with you.

Your fingers start rubbing cirlces into your clit as you imagine him being the one to do it to you; kissing down your neck with his plump lips before toying at your nipples with his tongue.

You feel the way your belly tightens when you tink about how he would talk dirty; you dont know what would turn you on more, him calling you a good girl or a filthy little slut.

Would he let you cum right now or drag it out so your could cum around his cock? Damn you bet he has a gorgeous cock, everything on that man has got to be perfect.

And the way his dancer hips would snap into you would definetly be the thing to push you over the edge.

Your head rolls back and you bite your lip as to not let out a sound when your orgasm finally hits.

Your legs quiver a little when you ride out your high.

It wasnt the most earthshattering orgasm you've ever experienced but it did its job in satisfying you a little.

Clean and dry again, you let yourself fall onto your bed, sighing before you climb underneath your sheets.

Grabbing your phone from your nighstand, you see a message from an unknown number pop up.

unknown number : hey y/n -received at 9:56 pm

unknown number : its minho :) -received at 9:57 pm

Your heart skips a beat when the second one pops up, slowly you slide the message and land in the chat.

Whats a cool way to say hi back? hey?....no

sup? oh hell no

hiii....definetly not.

you: hi :) -sent at 9:58 pm

Good one, y/n.

you: how did you get my number? -sent at 9:58 pm

minho : my manager pulled a few strings lol, how are u? -received at 10:00 pm

you : im fine, a little tired ,hbu? -sent at 10:00 pm

Shit, yea go ahed y/n be the driest texter in the world no biggie, its not like this is lee minho.

minho: aww practice was to hard? lol im feeling fine -received at 10:01 pm

minho: jkjk lol the real reason im texting you is to ask if you want to meet up again -received at 10:02

Excuse me?

minho: yk, to practice but without all the cameras and people -received at 10:02

Okay, y/n calm down, dont answer yet. Dont make him think you're desperate to meet him again even though you are.

you: yea, sure. when are you free? -sent at 10:05

Very chill, nice job.

minho: im actually off the day after tomorrow, hbu? -received at 10:06 pm

you: i can make that work in the evening -sent at 10:06 pm

And there goes not looking desperate.

minho: nice, meet me here around 6 then? -received at 10:08 pm

minho has shared a location

minho: its an old dance studio, i know the owner :) -recieved at 10:08 pm

you: alright, see you then :) -sent at 10:09 pm

minho: good night y/n :) -sent at 10:09 pm

Do you send a good night back?...no, that would be too much...right?

You sigh and drop your phone next to you on your bed, your fists rubbing at your eyes.

There is no way you'll be able to sleep the next two nights.

It has been getting warmer recently, so you are surprised when the weather turns its back on you and suddenly blows icy wind against your face.

And you thought you had chosen wisely when only putting on a hoodie over your shirt.

You check your phone to see that you arrived at minhos sent location, yet there is no dance studio in sight.

Shivering, you turn around to search for signs on doors when you hear the door behind you opening.

"hey, in here" minho grins when you stumble around.

You look up at the building and look down at him.

"hi" you smile, somewhaþ confusedly.

"come in" he holds the door open for you.

"this building looks like its gonna get torn down soon" you say, still shivering a little as you look at minho, who's only sporting grey sweatpants and a black tshirt.

"it is" minho nods, looking around "sadly, i love coming here" he adds before looking back at you.

"still cold?" he asks, approaching you before rubbing over your arms with his hands.

"ye-huh" you interrupt yourself, gulping harshly when his cologne creeps up your nose.

He grins "better?" You nod, forcing a smile "yea, thanks"

An hour later, you are deeply immersed in the dance when you stumble at the same spot again, for the nth time.

"fuck" you aggrevatedly run your hand through your hair, angry at yourself for not getting this turn down the way it should look.

"I'm sorry, im usually not this bad i j-"

"you're not bad y/n" minho giggles, shaking his head "its alright, sometimes a move just doesnt work at first"

You huff out some air "im just nervous" you shake your head "i've never done a stage like this and i dont want to disappoint people"

"its normal to be nervous" minho stops the music before coming up behind you "just dont let it overpower the fun part"

He moves some hair from your shoulder "plus its just the two of us right now, and you cant disappoint me" he smiles softly, heat rushing to your cheeks.

"try positioning your hips..." he places his hands on your hips before gently rotating them to the left "... more like this before turning" he explains ,eyes locking in the mirror.

For a second, the only thing you can hear is your own heartbeat as his hands move up a little and linger on the exposed skin of your waist.

"okay" you breathe "lets try it from the top"

"yea?"

"yea" you nod.

The music starts again and your body takes over for you, you kick and jump and turn.

Minho lifts you like its nothing and before you know it, you do the turn exactly like you're supposed to.

The music stops and your breathing fills the silence before the euphoria of getting every single step down perfectly reaches your brain.

You squeal excitedly and clap before falling into minhos arms.

He stiffens at your touch and you immediately let go "i- i'm sorry- i dont know why-"

Suddenly, he lounges forwards and presses his plush lips against yours.

It takes you a second to register whats happening, but when his hands encase your waist, you sling your arms around his neck to pull him even closer.

An approving moan tears from minhos throat before he backs you up untill you feel the cold mirror pressed against your back.

You part your lips and let his tongue roll against yours , his hands roaming over your body.

Everything his happening so fast you cant track where they're going, first they're at your ass then one of them squeezes at your boob; and now it trails up your neck and wraps itself around it as he kisses down the other side.

You feel like your nerve endings are on fire everywhere his hands and lips wander, your eyes fluttering shut as you moan out his name.

He nips at your collarbone before coming back to your lips "i've wanted to do this since the second i saw you" his hand around your neck tightens protectively and you feel yourself clench.

"me too" you whisper before he crashes his lips to yours again, your hand tightening in his thick brown hair as the other clings to his shoulder.

A firm thigh lodges itself between your legs and you feel brave so you roll your hips into it. The ache thats building up in your clit, getting released a little.

Shamelessly you whimper against his lips.

He sucks your bottom lip inbetween his before breaking the kiss again, looking down at your ministrations.

"dirty girl" he grins, releasing your neck and placing both hands on your hips and helping you grind against his thigh.

Your head falls back against the mirror when the fabric of your cotton thong gets rubbed against your clit in just the right way. An almost pornographic moan leaves your lips, "fuck" you whine, locking eyes with minho again.

"god i wanna do so many bad things to you" he grunts, at which you swear you gushed a little more into your panties.

You see his cock straining through the flattering grey sweat material, your hand wandering towards it but he catches it.

"cum on my thigh and you'll get it" he promises, grinning when another high pitched moan spills from your pretty lips.

A sudden loud ringing makes you flinch, and minhos head whips around before removing himself from you.

"wha-?" you mumble confusedly.

He takes his phone and answers the incoming call.

"Hi, hyung" he speaks, turning around "i went for a run, yea-sorry...yea okay...okay bye" he hangs up.

"Who-?" you attempt to speak but your mind is still fuzzy as he throws his backpack over his shoulder and grabs his sweater before coming back to you.

"My manager" he says, taking your hand "i have to go"

"Oh-"

"I'm sorry" he kisses your lips "you want me to take you to your dorm?"

"No- no i dont want you to get in trouble" you shake your head.

"Sure?" He tilts his head.

"Yea, of course, im good" you nod, a smile tugging at your lips because he looks really cute with his messed up hair and puffy lips.

"Here" he gives you his sweater "im sure its colder now"

"you'll get cold though" you hold it up.

"nah, i'm hot blooded" he quips, leaning down to lock lips again.

More lingering this time, you feel you stomach churn with butterflies when he moves to your cheek.

"i'm not finished with you" he whispers into your ear, winking before walking out the door.

a/n: ik im supposed to be writing zephyr but this popped in my head and wrote itself so easily i was like👁👄👁 anyways hope u liked it🥰 not proofread so i just know there are thousands of spelling errors in there😍😍

#skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz hard hours #stray kids #lee minho smut #lee know smut #skz minho smut #skz minho #minho smut #idk more tags lol

365 notes · View notes

scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 11

WC: 2077

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort

🧠

The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.

Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.

Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.

"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.

"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."

You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.

You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."

The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.

You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.

The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.

Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.

Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.

His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"

"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.

"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.

Bubble popped.

Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.

Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."

You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."

Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."

He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"

"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.

"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."

Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.

Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.

"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.

"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."

He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”

As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.

“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.

Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.

“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.

Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.

But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.

You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.

“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”

“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.

You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams

#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle #tw self harm #tw suicude #tw child abuse

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sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Mother Miranda x Lawyer!Oc ----Tilted Scales

Hello guys :) This is another commission I wrote for the amazing, wonderful @saltwatereulogies

Your support has been insane, I can't thank you enough. Hope you enjoy the story ❣

Three days.

That is how long you've been in the village, after years of studying abroad, before everything turns to shit.

As you slowly blink focus back into your eyes, you try to clear the haze from your mind. It feels as though you've collided with a truck. Your body hurts, your wrists protest in their iron cuffs, stuck to the wall as they are, having supported your weight while you were unconscious.

Desperately, you try to recollect the events that led you here...

A grey sky. A bleak day. One moment you were making coffee for your mother, excited to be able to sit down with her in the mornings again... and the next you heard the echo of screams.

Overcome by adrenaline, you bolted out of your house, only to witness a scene straight from a nightmare; humanoid monsters ripping villagers apart, cries and blood and animalistic growls all blending together into one mad mix.

And before you could even warn your mother...

Damn it all, what the fuck happened!

You suddenly struggle against your bonds, hard enough to rattle your whole frame. Your wrists burn from the grind against metal, but you don't care–

“Stop that. It is pointless and you will only injure yourself.” A cold voice, strangely familiar, says from far to your right.

You peer deep into the shadows, searching for the only other person in the empty room... until you see her. A mask advances on you, gold and shaped like a crow's visage, then wings folded into a cloak come into view.

You would be a fool to not recognize her. The local saint. The village's prophet. The very 'saint' your mother prayed to, for your safe return, all these years. Mother Miranda.

The sound of her heels bounces off the walls until she comes to stand directly in front of you. Looking past the openings of her mask now, you realize....

This isn't possible.

She hasn't aged a day. Not a single day, since you left the village. The years should show around her deadly blue eyes, somewhere, and yet they don't.

“I see you remember me...” she says, while you're still trying to find your voice. “Miss Warren.”

“What is going on? Mother Miranda, what happened to the village?!” you demand.

Her expression shows nothing. “The village is in need of... renovation.” she speaks, even, regal. “Repopulation, even.”

You stare at her with wide eyes.

“Now, don't give me that look. You would not be here if you weren't of the ones I chose to keep.” she continues. “You see, from now on, every single person in my domain will make themselves useful in some way, or they will be replaced. And you... you have been abroad studying law for a while now, yes?”

“I... yes.” you reply, still not fully having wrapped your mind around your situation.

“Excellent. What I need from you is simple. You will make the village independent from the state’s taxes as a religious organization... and you will keep foreign investors out from that point onward.”

What... what part of that is simple?!

“Do that for me and in return I guarantee your mother and you will go back to your house safe and sound. You will have no shortage of Lei for as long as you live, Miss Warren.” Miranda promises.

But it is not the sweet part of the deal your mind stays glued to. “And if...” you gulp. “If I can't work around the law to do that...?”

Miranda blinks slowly at you, like you shouldn't even ask such a basic question. Like the answer is obvious.

“Well. Then I have no further use for either of you.”

It is in this moment that it dawns on you.

This woman is no angel and no saint.

She is a devil.

You spend countless sleepless nights pouring over every single paragraph, every little opening or ambiguity in the law you can use to free the village of taxes.

To keep your mother in the dark about this, you work in the office Mother Miranda has provided for you, in her very stronghold.

Although technically it's her home, you don't see her nearly as much as you initially thought. She is gone throughout the day and returns late at night, not even sparing you a glance before heading for her chambers, at the upper sections of the building.

The days she does come into your office to inquire on your progress are few and far-between, your conversations always short and cold.

This evening is different.

“How is your work coming along, Miss Warren?” the prophetess asks with her aggravatingly nice accent, seating herself like a queen on the chair in front of your desk.

Your eyes are tired, but you force them on hers, through the mask obscuring her face. “I think I've got it. I'll be sending the necessary papers tomorrow and the answer shouldn't take longer than a month.”

“Very good.” she nods, a miniscule curve to her lips.

Icy eyes then drop to the wine in the whiskey glass at the corner of the desk. You think she will make a comment about drinking at work, but instead she says;

“Pour me a glass, will you?”

You will your hands steady as you comply, then carefully slide her drink over.

Miranda takes her mask with claw-shrouded fingers... and soundnessly sets it on the wooden surface. Then she pushes the veil at her hair back, shaking long, platinum locks free.

You do a double take you hope she doesn't notice. Because what the actual fuck.

You didn't think her hair was that long, or that straight, or that it would fall over her shoulders like she's staring in a shampoo ad. You didn't think her lips were shaped like a cupid's bow or that her skin was this flawless and radiant.

The helplessly lesbian part of you could begrudgingly admit she was beautiful before... but now you arrive to the painful realization she's drop-dead gorgeous.

“So. I've heard you won cases others would describe as impossible.” she begins.

“Nothing's impossible. You just need to know where to look.” you reply. Law is your comfort zone and she is not that far above you here. “But how do you know that?”

“I have my sources.”

"Nobody truly leaves this village, huh.”

“Not without my consent, no. But I knew you'd come back.” At your slight frown, she elaborates, “You would never leave your mother behind.”

She's right. There was a whole world of opportunities waiting for you out there and yet... here you are.

“Good work, so far. You can take the next two days off. Your eyes could use the rest, Miss Warren.” Miranda speaks, finishing her wine.

“Sarah.” you say. 'Miss Warren' is for clients and she is your boss.

Miranda's lips give a slight quirk that may or may not be a trick of the light.

“I know.” she replies and exits the room, long hair billowing behind her back.

The taxes were only the first challenge. Now that the village is free of them, investors are flying in circles around it like vultures over meat.

In the meantime, Miranda comes to talk to you more frequently.

Lately, it seems she has more free time. You wish that was a good thing, but...

“So... are you like... going to stay here?” You ask after reading the same sentence five times to make sense of it, because her gaze on you is distracting as fuck.

“I'm not getting in the way of your work.” she says. You want to argue she is, but can't quite do that in a way that won't get you killed.

“I'm simply not used to working with company. Isn't this boring for you?”

“No, actually. I find it interesting, even though science is my field of expertise.” she answers. “And the way you take notes is… amusing.”

You try not to blush as you look down at your notebook, filled with different colored markers and post-it squares with tiny stick figures pointing to the more important paragraphs. You have been doing this for so long to sort out information you didn't even realize you were keeping it up in her presence.

“What is this supposed to be?” she asks with a small smile, the first of its kind you've seen.

To your horror, her clawed pointer aims at a particularly silly doodle, barely the size of a pencil's eraser.

“A... bird.” you grimace like you've been stabbed.

“Ah, of course.” Miranda holds back a chuckle but you can tell she's dying to make a comment.

Studying becomes hell for the rest of the time she's there with you, those sharp eyes picking apart every little move you make. At the same time, though, the hours you spend with her make you realize...

She's not a saint, though she may look like one. She's not completely a devil, either, even if she may act as one, at times.

She's human.

Miranda shares nothing about herself when you chat, but she seems to like it when you speak about your time abroad and all the things that left an impression on you there.

Your conversation over wine is cut short, however, when you receive a call from a number you learned means nothing but trouble, lately.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” you tell her.

The one calling you is none other than this month's rival lawyer, trying to dispute your claim over the land for his own boss. He's lost to you before, so it's also personal, but you are confident you have cornered them good with the latest papers you sent them...

And you are proven correct, when, a few seconds later, he is all faux polite on the other line, resorting to offering you money for you to withdraw your arguments.

Miranda comes to stand next to you, listening in to what he's saying.

The problem with that is, the second her arm brushes yours and you catch a whiff of her perfume –which always lingers in your office long after she's left— youare the one who stops listening to him.

Your attention flies to other things, like the inches she has on you, the exact color of her pale blonde hair, the little glint of victory in her stunning eyes.

Oh, no. God, no...

You know what this is, the feeling in the pit of your stomach. Alarm bells go off in the back of your head, as though your own mind is telling your body how foolish it's being.

There isn't a worse thing you can do to yourself than be attracted to Miranda.

Over time, familiarity with the prophetess brings higher levels of difficulty into your 'try to ignore your crush on her' game.

Miranda joins your side and leans over your shoulder, sometimes, to peer down at what you're doing. You don't move and don't breathe until she's within a safe distance again.

Then there are the wayward 'reward' touches, when you turn another investor away from the village. She may pat your back or leave her hand on your shoulder, or even scratch your nape with her claws as a job well done.

You hope your poker face hides the fact you feel her touch on you for far longer than you should, after she's gone.

Tonight, the situation is the toughest it's ever been for you.

There is a rainstorm going on outside; the waterdrops are tapping against the windows of your office as though they're trying to break it. Miranda has pulled her chair next to you so you can talk easier, without having to shout over the cacophony.

“And basically the judge's decision was that—”

You are interrupted by a blinding flash of lighting, during which your mind lets you know the stronghold is easily the tallest structure in it's vicinity—

When thunder cracks down the sky and strikes the building, you nearly scream. Your body tenses and you jump; but Miranda's hands come to your biceps and hold you steady, against herself and your desk.

Another flash comes before you really have time to think about your proximity. She covers your ears with her palms before the thunderclap can send you into overdrive again.

“You are with me and you're scared of a little thunder?” she teases when things quiet down and your heartbeat eases.

It's true; Miranda is the more terrifying force of nature. At the same time, however...

You feel oddly safe to be this close to her.

“Well... I'm not scared right now...” you quietly admit.

Her pointer comes underneath your chin and lifts it so you are looking straight into her hypnotic blue eyes. How is this color even real...

“And why is that?” Miranda asks, her wings coming around you both. They're curtains of black, cutting out some of the storm's sounds.

You want nothing more in this moment than to run your fingers through each individual feather.

You lick your lips. That's...not a question you can answer if you want the balance in your arrangement with her to remain.

Perhaps, though, the scales have tilted for you long ago. You just haven't been brave enough to admit it.

You have the courage to face it now when she leans down and covers your lips with hers, warm in a manner you never imagined she could be.

Her wings pull tighter around you and your mouths slide more firmly together. Lipbalm and creamy lipstick mix, tongues brush, tasting of wine. You are shaking so bad on the inside from how much you want this, more of this, the rumbling of the thunder be damned.

Miranda's palm cups your flaming cheek when she pulls back, perfectly composed and staring at you with a little smirk in place.

You dare to turn a little, lay a tiny kiss on the inside of her wrist, beyond her rings and accessories.

You aren't very fond of storms, but...

You willingly walk right into the eye of this one.

#mother miranda x oc #mother miranda #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #fanfiction #creative writing #commission #thank you so much :')

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justplainwhump · 2 years

Text

Blackmail

For @amonthofwhump 12 days of Whumpmas, here's day 6 - Blackmail. And a little sneak peek at future Dany, after she's free from Ridley. (Or, boss!Dany, as I like to call her).

References the ongoing (explicit) Christmas party arc [On Tumblr] [On Ao3]

As all Dany pieces, this is dedicated to @hackles-up

Thus, cw for referenced past noncon.

[Dany Masterpost]

I remember his eyes. Pale green irises, thick, dark eyelashes. Lindsey Manners' eyes are hauntingly beautiful.

In my memories, they're staring down on me, hungry and lustful.

Right now, they are wide with fear.

I enjoy this far more.

I push my chair back from the huge desk and give him a cool smile. I picked a corner office, on the former conference floor. Not the very top floor, where Ridley used to reside. High enough to make an impression, though. "Mrs..." He clears his throat. "Mrs Lordin, before you try and fire me, you must know that -"

I lift an eyebrow. I can guess what he's aiming for. The man is desperate. He's built his whole existence on my husband. This company. My company. He can't lose it.

"Yes?", I prompt. "What is there that I have to know?"

"You can't", he stammers. "You can't fire me. I have... I have videos. Files. Of that party. You wouldn't want those sent to your business partners."

I throw my head back and laugh, first at his bluntness, and then at the confusion spreading over his face at my reaction. "I wouldn't, that's right", I admit. "But..." With a shrug I reach to the picture frame on my desk. Ridley's and my wedding photo, and run my fingers over its rim. It's creepy, how thin I was. I've been free of him for just short of two months now, and already look a lot healthier. "You know, my husband won't exactly leave me for what happened. And whatever traction this would get, I still own a multi-million Dollar Corporation. You however..." I look him down. "You have nothing but your reputation. Maybe, maybe your fiance. Bianca, isn't it? I've had coffee with her. She's lovely."

Lindsey blanches.

"You've been with her for quite a while, haven't you? Starting dating a while before this... party?" I point at the picture of Ridley. "He likes to keep videos, too, you know. That particular one is a favorite of his. Had me watch them often enough. So I do happen to have my own copy of it. You are very well recognizable on it, Lindsey. Every last part of you. And I, your boss' wife, have very, very clearly been drugged, which you don't seem to mind. At all. So. What do you think, which one of us would suffer more from the repercussions of that publication?" With a last look at it, I put the picture frame back on the table, face down.

"I..." He stammers. "You..."

"Fucking whore?", I assist him. "Mh. Yeah. You sure liked to call me that."

"What... What do you want?" He almost chokes on his words.

"I don't want to fire you. That 14 mil project my husband so kindly rewarded you for? That was pretty good work, actually. I want you to continue that. I'll name you head of portfolio management. You'll work your ass of for me, Lindsey. You'll get married this summer, you'll keep my business going, and these videos stay where they are. Here's your new contract." I slide a Manila folder over to him and he puts his hand on it shakily. "I think it's in your best interest to sign."

I place a fountain pen next to the folder and give him a short smile. "I'll be less generous with the bonus, though."

He swallows and licks his lips. For a second I have to fight my nausea. Then he nods, and I manage to keep my smile straight.

Lindsey takes the pen, scribbles down his signatures next to mine and hurries out of the room.

I carefully close the file, align the folders with the table and lean back in my chair.

Only then do I allow myself to cry.

#amow twelve days of whumpmas #blackmail #whump #lady whump #Dany #future dany #boss!dany #noncon reference

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 3 years

Text

Inej Ghafa x fem! Reader - Close Enough

A/n: So.... Ya I this wasn't a request I just really inspired to write about Inej today and yes I did write this all today! Also this fic goes (not full, full on) but more with Inej's struggles with touch with her S/O because I see a whole lot for Kaz (which isn't a bad thing keep writing those fics I enjoy them)! But like zero for Inej! So I made one, I hope ya'll enjoy!

Warnings: The Menagerie, mentions of sexual assault, swearing, mentions of panic attacks and flashbacks, I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: You and Inej have been dancing around each both knowing that you like each other, yet Inej struggles with her past when she's around you

(The gif is not mine and I do not own shadow and bone or it's characters!)

Her eyes slide over Y/n's body admiring her beauty and the way her y/h/c locks moved with the wind from the sea.

The ship rocked back and forth and Inej couldn't help but think about the way the L/n girl moved. Although Y/n wasn't silent or fluid with her motions, the girl was still graceful in her own not very refined way.

The way she held herself, the way she walked was all so effortless and bold, nothing like the captain of the very ship who was always so lithe and elegant. Yet Inej couldn't stop thinking or looking at the girl who never stayed silent. Yet Inej would never come close to the white tiger named Y/n, and both already knew that.

The deafening sound of the sea and storm was broken by the only person who could become louder and break an unbreakable silence; Y/n.

Inej could hear her footsteps coming closer and closer. She could hear her breathing even if it wasn't heavy, and most of all she could hear her close-mouthed giggles because if they were open-mouthed it would grab all the Saints in this world's attention.

Listening wasn't an option with Y/n you had to pay attention. Her whole aura demanded it, and Inej was starting to think even the Saints could hear her sometimes because that girl had a power over her no one had ever had she didn't even realize it.

"Hello, Captain!" Y/n sings leaping towards Inej's side eagerly.

Instantly Inej's senses are filled with the white tiger's perfume and it overwhelms her with emotions and memories of her past; her past in the Menagerie.

Intentionally the girl moves closer to Inej when she doesn't say something right away, and she can physically feel the hands ripping at her purple silks trying to place them apart like monsters to get to what was underneath. The kohl was around her eyes again, the bells on her ankles and the painted spots that really made her seem like an animal were on her shoulders.

She could smell the incense in her room, and the gold metal bars on the windows. It was metaphorically a cage but it was also a literal one. Inej wasn't herself anymore she was just a seemingly useless lynx only good for one thing; then she feels a hand creep up and up...

Snapping out of her trance she harshly backs away from L/n but she's still as silent as ever and that alone makes her want to scream out her lungs because she just wants to be heard.

She thought that maybe taking down the Slavers would help her find peace, she thought being away from the barrel and the Menagerie would help her hopefully start over. Really she thought she was over this, the flashbacks, the full-on panic attacks where she can't have anyone touch her for about an hour or more.

In reality, though, all she really wants is to be able to be loud and to be able to touch Y/n romanticly, all she wants is to not feel the dirty hands of the men every time she brushes against her lover.

Inej Ghafa wants to be free of the cage that she thought she had escaped, yet every time she thinks that she's pulled right back in. Clawing at the bars trying to flee yet again.

That was why the captain of the Wraith would not come close enough to the white tiger.

Guilt flash's in Y/n's eyes and she backs away, immediately putting even more space in between the two giving Inej some space to breathe.

"Sorry." The girl whispers backing up even further but never leaving nor taking her y/c/e orbs off of Ghafa.

Inej takes a breath in and she can no longer smell Y/n's perfume and the incense from the Menagerie, but she longs to smell Y/n's scent forever. And Inej is glad that Y/n's skin isn't against her's anymore but inside she's screaming because that's the only thing she wants to feel.

Inej rubs her hands over her eyes feeling so tired of all of this; if she could she would just kiss the tiger on the lips but because of fucking trauma she couldn't.

Another thought that is always at the back of her mind is ever so present at the moment - because what if she never gets to touch Y/n? Why could she touch basically anyone else but her?

"It's not your fault, you know that okay? I just-"

But Y/n being the loud person that she is, she cuts Inej off. "But do you know?"

She snaps her head up meeting the white tiger's eyes that seem to be blazing holes into her.

"Do you know it's not your fault Ghafa?"

Once again her breath is caught in her throat and the captain of the Wraith - the fearsome captain who tames the seas and takes down slavers is rendered speechless in eight words.

"Because even if you do, do you know I don't need you to touch me or even come into a five-meter radius of me?"

"That's not fair to you." She argues.

"I just want you to love me!" Y/n starts raising her voice and tears were in her eyes showing how serious the situation really was.

"You know I can't do that without-"

"For fucks shake Inej! I don't need any of the extra touchings or even getting close to me! I JUST WANT YOUR LOVE! I don't care how you show it! I just want to be yours!"

Y/n's eyes widen and panic impulses through her eyes and for the first time in a long time everything is silent. Even the ocean, even the storm, the wind, Y/n has stopped being loud and the world is awfully quiet like it needs to run after her noise. Her brightness.

Soundless tears drip from both of the girl's eyes as Inej takes a step forward the floorboards of the ship creaking beneath her as she comes closer. Not insanely close, but that wasn't the point.

"Okay." Inej murmurs.

"What?"

"I want to be yours too."

Suddenly Y/n smiles and the world brightens again and the noise of the universe is back and Inej is no longer creaking on the floorboards she's silent again but she's pretty sure she has someone else to teach her how to be loud.

Taking four steps forwards she could probably reach out and grab Y/n's hand if she wanted to, and it wouldn't be unexpected or anything of the sort. It would be on her terms.

Carefully and even a bit terrified Inej reach's her hand out towards Y/n's and she lets them brush together.

As soon as she feels her skin against her's she forgets how to breathe and fireworks must have gone off in her stomach because that's how she was feeling. It was like jumping from rooftop to rooftop without the smoke and grim of Ketterdam, it was like sailing the ocean without the fear of drowning.

Though she quickly pulls away knowing any longer she'll be pulled back into memories of her past again. Disappointment folds her veins and Y/n could obviously tell that it was already wearing her down.

"Little by little Captain! Remember step by step!"

Her voice then takes a more serious but soothing tone.

"Don't push yourself remember what I asked of you? Your love, not your body. We got to four steps today? Well maybe in a month to a year you'll get to five, I don't care! I'll be proud either way! But for right now this is close enough."

Inej grins up at the woman standing before her.

"You're amazing you know that right?"

Y/n simply flicks her hair. "Oh, I know!"

They both laugh and it rings throughout the earth reaching all the way to the Saints and they finally looked down from the heavens to see the two most remarkable girls laughing standing five feet apart holding love for each other that was so powerful they could see it spread.

It was a power they didn't know existed among the humans and they saw its potential to spread everywhere but it stopped at one point.

But that was close enough.

Words 1400

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626

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mariesdameron · 3 years

Text

Can I Stay?

Llewyn Davis x F!Reader// Friends to Lovers

Based on the song 'Can I Stay?' by Ray Lamontagne

Read 'Let it Be Me' with Llewyn Davis inspired by the Ray Lamontagne song.

CW: Smoking, Drinking, Homelessness, Bar, Slight angst, Depression (mention), Sexual Content

WC: 4,656

Read on Ao3

Number three. You were number three on the Llewyn Davis's rotation of couches. You had been number five, but you had been promoted to your current placement after many late nights spent over whisky on the floor of your living room. Llewyn strumming mindlessly on his guitar as you both spoke of your childhood, regrets, and hopes for the future.

- - - -

You had moved to New York within the last two years, looking to start a new chapter in your life. You decided to leave behind the broken marriage and sordid past in the dumpster of a small town you had grown up in. Luckily for you, you easily slid into a server job at a small bar in the village. It wasn't bad for your first job in the city. It was a safe harbor for aspiring and failed musicians alike. This was where you met Llewyn.

You remembered the first night you heard him sing. It was relatively slow that evening; only a few regulars mulled around. Several unknowns bungled on stage, setting you up for a numbing headache. It wasn't that you didn't like folk music, but many of the voices that came into the bar sounded the same, raspy and whiney, definitely no Bob Dylan's hiding in this muck.

The stage had been empty for a good hour, much to your relief, when you saw him, strolling through the tables, guitar case in hand. You rolled your eyes; there went your solitude. Looking around the bar, you realized it was deserted. Dropping your tray on the empty table, you sat down and slid off your flats.

You decided to take pity on the guy. Playing in a near-empty room did little for anyone's self-esteem. You eyed the man on the stage carefully as he got himself ready. His attire was what you expected from the folk scene, a worn corduroy jacket paired with a charcoal collared button-up underneath.

His standout feature was his full head of dark curls. You watched as he picked the strings on his worn instrument, his head bent as his fingers worked deftly. His voice, deep and smooth, sounded from his chest, and your eyes grew. He was good; no, he was better than good. He was awe-inspiring.

Emotion saturated every key. You rubbed at the goosebumps that spread up and down your arms. Glancing around the establishment, you expected to see the rest of the room entranced. To your astonishment, the few were busy nursing their liquor in front of them instead of paying attention to the rich melody from this curly-haired Nick Drake.

You let yourself get carried away with each tune, mesmerized by the way the man's face contorted and evolved with every minute, occasionally stopping only to light a cigarette between melodies.

The hand on your shoulder snapped you from your haze. The bartender spoke to you softly to pack up for the night. Hesitantly you turned your back to the music and finished your shift.

- - - -

You gripped your bulky purse on your shoulder as you made your way towards the subway. Walking through the city after dark was something you still were not accustomed to. You resolved that it probably would never be something of joy for you.

As you tapped the pedestrian light, you turned and noticed the curly-haired man from the bar jogging towards you. You cleared your throat and tucked your hands in your coat pockets as he stood breathless next to you.

You felt his eyes on you as you both made your way across the street and down the stairs to the trains. He was keeping quite the proximity to you, and it was starting to make you agitated. You stopped in front of your line, taking a deep breath. You turned and addressed him.

"Can I help you?" Your voice sounded surprisingly firm, and you were thankful.

The man shifted on his feet, setting the guitar down carefully. He ran his hand through his waves, his dark eyes attempting to not lock with your gaze.

"I am not a sociopath or anything. I swear. I just recognized you from the bar. I am not following you; I am heading to a friend's place." You bit down on your lip as the man's eyes finally met yours. He was more attractive closer up than on stage. You scolded yourself mentally before nodding to him.

"Okay, good. As long as you're not a sociopath." You said with a smirk as the train halted in front of you. He shuffled close behind you as you entered and took a seat; you motioned to the empty seat to your left. A reluctant smile spread over his face as he nestled himself into the spot.

The next thirty minutes felt like an hour but in the best possible way. Llewyn, you had learned, had been playing guitar since he was five and had been up and down the east coast in attempts to be signed by a successful label.

He had all the stories of a typical starving artist, couch surfing through a list of close friends and fellow struggling musicians. He customarily had no more than twenty dollars in his pocket and had a chain-smoking problem. You filled him in on how new you were to the city and divulged that you hadn't had a chance to meet many people. You heard your stop announced over the staticky speaker. You motioned towards the door.

"That's me." You both stood at once. "Oh? Is it yours also?" You cocked your head as he hurried out with you.

"It is. I didn't say earlier. I didn't want to, ya know... Freak you out." He said, a slight smirk dancing on his lips. You felt a rush of warmth spread over your face as you saw him light up. You got the feeling Llewyn wasn't a particularly cheerful sort of guy. His face looked years younger when he smiled.

"Well, I guess I will see you around?" You left your sentence hanging, shamefully hoping you would get to hear his soulful voice again. He shrugged and agreed simultaneously.

"I think so, yeah." He said, shifting on his feet, his energy now more awkward than before. "I will see you around." He said as he pulled a cigarette from his jacket. Turning, you started in the direction of your apartment.

You heard your name from behind; Llewyn walked towards you, a cloud of smoke following him. "I should at least walk you home. If that's okay with you? It's kind of late." You studied his face, the lines near his eyes, the sharpness of his jaw still prominent under his scruffy dark beard.

"Well... As long as you promise not to kill me. I guess it will be okay." Llewyn busted out in laughter, shaking his head.

"Sure, I'll do my best."

- - - -

You dropped the plastic tote and grocery bags onto the kitchen table. After a few minutes of shuffling around, you grabbed the tote and carried it into the living room. Llewyn had been rotating stays at your house for the last couple of months. After your first encounter, you both struck up an instant friendship.

You were cautious at first, unsure of his intentions. However, after talking with many patrons around the bar, you found that he was still pining over another. This closed the doors of temptation and romantic inklings.

Despite the occasional lingering glance, you had done a decent job checking your attraction. After all, Llewyn was a rather interesting fellow to keep company with, and you lacked friends. You walked over to the tattered box that was dismally stuffed between your bookshelf and wall.

All of Llewyn's belongings resided in that box. The first few months of him rotating through, he would bring it to the next location. As of late, he had been leaving all of his worldly possessions with you. After many months of staring at its pathetic state, you decided to replace it with something a bit sturdier; a plastic tote.

Carefully, you started to remove the items, one by one. The box seemingly was mostly records; there was the expected Dylan, Donovan, and Cohen. Surprisingly, Carolyn Hester and June Carter Cash. Skimming over the tracks, you noticed a corner of a photograph peeking under the cover. With a shake, the picture slipped into your hand. Looking back at you was the cutest ringlets and babe face that you had ever seen. You audibly sighed as emotion washed over you.

Sliding it back in its place, you started filing the records in its new home when a series of familiar knocks hit your door. You weren't expecting Llewyn that night. Jumping up, you jogged to the door. Llewyn greeted you with a weak smile, his eyes tired and hair wet, clinging to his forehead.

Wiping his hair from his face, you stepped back and let him inside. Walking to him you realized he was drenched through his jacket. He turned and shrugged his coat off, draping it on the back of your kitchen chair.

"It started pouring like five minutes from your place. Because, of course." He waved his hands in front of him as he shook off his shoes. You skipped to and from the bathroom for towels. Llewyn rubbed his head as he entered the living room. "Why are my records on the floor?" Llewyn questioned, walking towards the pile.

"Well, as you can see, I was trying to transfer said 'pile' into 'said' tote. I wasn't expecting you." Pausing, you moved towards the records. Llewyn stepped in front of you, blocking your way.

"Nope. I got it. Thanks for the tote, though." He smirked, picking up an album. Dropping the towel to the floor, he started to fiddle with your record player. As soon as the song hit your ears, a grin spread over your face. Llewyn smiled softly and pulled his cigarettes from his pocket. "I haven't listened to this one in a while. You can't beat Dylan and Cash." He hummed, placing a cigarette between his lips.

Pointing to the window, you bent over and grabbed the towel. Before you could walk away, Llewyn grabbed you by the hip, swaying playfully along to the melody. Tucking his unlit cigarette behind his ear, Llewyn tugged at the towel, letting it drop to the floor. Your body responded intuitively to the music that called to you as Llewyn drew you to his chest. This was unexpected. You were comfortable around each other; physical touch wasn't completely random, but this was different. Llewyn's deep brown eyes studied your face as he began to croon.

"I'm a-wonderin' if she remembers me at all.

Many times I've often prayed.

In the darkness of my night

In the brightness of my day."

His voice never failed to transcend you into a state of calmness. Your body relaxed as his arms encased you. Llewyn closed his eyes as he continued to sing, his face migrating closer. His forehead brushed against yours. Suddenly your nose was filled with the distinctive spicy fragrance of whisky. The smashing impact of reality snapped you from the touching moment. Shaking your head, you swallowed down the sadness creeping up your throat. You resented that you allowed yourself to entertain this minute of tenderness. Llewyn tilted his head as he rustled the last lyrics.

"What?" He hummed as you began placing distance between you.

"What are we avoiding tonight, Llewyn?" You challenged as you clutched the towel and went towards the bathroom. Llewyn ran his hand through his curls and lit a cigarette. "Window!" You shouted as you walked back into the living room. Llewyn raised his hands in protest before he opened the window and huddled on the floor. You crossed your arms defensively, trying to shake the feelings of his embrace and how easily you just fell into it.

"It's been a night…." Llewyn muttered as smoke curled from his nose. You nodded knowingly. Llewyn had been stumbling around the last couple of months in and out of whisky benders. Typically, you had no trouble offering up affirmations and positivity; tonight wasn't one of those nights.

"Okay?..." You breathed, frustrated. Grimacing, he waved his hand in the air.

"What is your problem?" He huffed, suddenly searching through his pockets. Dropping yourself onto your couch, you shielded yourself with a pillow. You needed to get it fucking together.

"Nothing, just checking in… You weren't supposed to be here tonight." Llewyn pulled out a slip of paper and threw it on the coffee table. "Another person to add to the rotation?" You bit the inside of your cheek. There was no mistaking the saltiness in your tone. Llewyn was apparently oblivious to your annoyance.

"The new address and phone number of my unknown child and their mother." He drew a long inhale of his cigarette. Whatever remaining negativity that resided inside of you dissolved. Llewyn had only just found out he had a child right before you met him. It was something that he grappled with frequently, but on occasion, it would consume him, leading to many nights of him staring at the bottom of a bottle. Intuitively, you slid down the couch towards him.

"And? What now?" Your question was hushed and gentle. Llewyn stared down at the floor for a few moments before taking another drag. You ignored the fact that he was missing the window entirely.

"Nothing...What would I even say? Or better yet, what would I do?" His voice shook with the last sentence. Llewyn's tongue darted over his bottom lip. Standing, he crumpled his cigarette in the tin can that he kept under the windowsill. "Would you want a homeless loser of a father who sang to drunks for a measly twenty bucks?" Running his hand through his hair his eyes found yours.

"Is it okay if I am here?" The weight of his gaze laid heavy on your heart. The pain radiating off him was immeasurable.

"Of course. Always." You answered with a genuine smile and nod of the head. Llewyn's face winced at your expression before his walls slammed down. The change showed in his body language almost instantaneously. There would be no more talking now. He had retreated further inside of himself.

Purposely, you stood and wrapped your arms around his center. He stood quietly, letting you hug him before he locked you to his chest in an embrace. "It won't always be like this, my friend." You hummed into his chest. Llewyn's arms stiffened in response before he released you.

"Yeah..." His eyes said differently as he attempted a feeble smile. Kissing your forehead, he turned and started making up the couch for bed. You wanted to linger, make him understand that he was meant for more than what life was currently serving him.

Llewyn turned knowingly and shook his head. "It's late. Sleep well, sweetheart." You observed him for a second before walking to your bedroom: your soul and heart aching.

- - - -

"Seriously, how could you let it get like this? It's a rat's nest." Your hand dropped from Llewyn's hair as you went back to counting your tips from the night. The bar had closed for the night, and Llewyn was strumming his guitar and nursing a scotch as you wrapped up your nightly duties.

"Do I strike you as someone who gives a shit about their hair?" He scoffed before pausing to write in his notebook. The notebook he refused to let you see. He said someday the contents would be taught in music classes, long after he was dead. Fame after death was a real aspiration of his. You rolled your eyes.

"You try too hard to be cool. You aren't that mysterious." You roughed up his curls and untied your apron, pocketing the chunk of change left from patrons. "I'll cut it for you. You are staying over anyways." Llewyn exhaled loudly before a smirk replaced his scowl.

"I said I don't care about my hair. I didn't say I wanted to be walking around half bald." Laughing at his own pathetic attempt at a joke, he started packing up his guitar. "Sure, why the hell not?" Llewyn shot the rest of the scotch down before turning to you. "Shall we?" He put his hands on your shoulders and led you out of the bar.

- - - -

Llewyn sat in the middle of your kitchen, a towel draped around his shoulders. The bright white overhead caused his eyes to strain after hanging in the depths of the nightclub all day.

"I don't think I've had a kitchen cut since I was a kid." Knocking your knee against his legs, you motioned for him to spread out. Smirking, he did, and you positioned yourself directly in front of him.

Carefully, you began trimming. Llewyn contently focused on your face, observing you as you nibbled your bottom lip with each snip. As you worked through his hair, you began to hum mindlessly.

Llewyn grinned, waiting before he joined you in song. His voice pulled you from your trance. His soothing voice washed over you. And suddenly, you were very aware of his closeness and your fingers in his curls.

Your eyes caught his gaze. Clearing your throat, you drew your focus back to his tresses. A tiny pleased sigh exhaled from Llewyn as your fingers passed over his scalp. Without thinking, wanting to hear more of his little noises, you began stroking his head.

Llewyn shut his eyes and began to hum again as his hands migrated to your hips. You breathed deeply as his fingers smoothed against you, rubbing circles, his eyes still closed as he carefully drew you closer.

Nuzzling his head into your stomach, Llewyn enveloped you in an embrace. Tucking the scissors in your jeans, you wiped Llewyn's hair from his forehead, prompting him to turn his face upwards, his deep brown eyes earnest and absorbing.

"How happy it would make me to see your face when I awake.." Llewyn purred into your stomach before standing abruptly. His hands darted to your face as he seized your mouth in a kiss. You dissolved. The scent of scotch and cigarettes bewildered your senses as he swept kisses along your jaw before seeking out your lips again.

The desire that you had been burying since the moment you met Llewyn surged. Your fingers frantically found the hem of his shirt, eager to feel his warm skin. A smile crept over Llewyn as your fingertips pressed into his back. He had unclasped your bra before you understood what was happening. His hands effortlessly cupped your breasts, stirring a moan from you. Seemingly this was precisely what was needed to set the moment ablaze.

Llewyn shifted you to the wall, tearing at your jeans. His face flushed as he continued to kiss you while freeing both of your pants. Your thoughts were hazy, high off of his touch. Llewyn's hands were everywhere all at once. And then he stopped, stepping backward, breathing heavily. Llewyn shook his head and pulled on his pants. The realization that you were entirely stripped, panic rushed over you, suddenly exposed and feeling self-conscious.

What just transpired? And why did it end? Llewyn glimpsed over at you, his eyes cloudy, his mouth drawn into a frown. He snatched up your top and pants and handed them to you before turning his back to you and walking into the living room. Dressing quickly, you followed behind him.

"Llewyn?" You sounded as he danced his shoes on. "Where are you going? You are just going to leave?" You huffed, the anger rising in your chest. He was not about to just walk out of the door after groping you down in your kitchen. Llewyn turned, uneasiness radiating off of him. He opened his mouth to speak before stopping and fumbling out a cigarette.

"This" He motioned his hand between you. "Can't happen, He mumbled. Your thoughts raced in confusion and anger.

"What do you mean, this can't happen? It was happening just fine to me. You seemed like you were okay with it..." You could hear your confidence faltering, the fear of rejection bubbling up. Were you about to get blown off by this man that you had confided in late into the night, drunk and emotional, the man that slept a couple of feet from your head? Your friend? Llewyn groaned and ran his hand through his waves.

"I was okay with it... Jesus." Swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, he lit his cigarette. You snapped your fingers at him, shaking your head. "Fuck, really?" He snorted before storming to the windowsill and discarding the cigarette into the can. "Look, it's just not a good idea. You..." he hesitated, his nostrils flared as he scrubbed his hand over his face. "I am a fucking loser babe, you know it, I know it. You deserve someone that at least has an apartment." Fussing with his hair again, he started back to the door. You angrily dived in his way.

"No, no. Stop. I get to decide what or who I want in my life. And it doesn't ma-" Llewyn raised his hand to stop you.

Grimacing, he uttered. "It does matter. It matters a lot. Your friendship means something. You mean something." He paused. "I am going." His dark eyes pleaded for you to listen. You moved back, letting Llewyn walk past. You didn't turn to look and listened for the closing of the door before allowing your tears to fall.

- - - -

Part of you prayed that Llewyn would skip tonight's gig. You weren't in the mood to play nice with him, and you certainly weren't feeling very chatty. You had spent the entire night going over the events of that evening. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his touch, and the way you so quickly gave yourself over to him. You felt stupid, like a schoolchild that was caught writing his name in your journal. It made you furious to think that Llewyn was attempting to take the 'just friends' road.

He was the one that kissed you. He had to have known that you had feelings for him. How many weekends did you spend bopping around record stores with him? How many nights of eating snacks and watching old movies? You got him the very spot that he plays in for this establishment. You slammed down the rag onto the bartop.

You were hurt more than anything. You thought that Llewyn was different than the others, but doesn't everyone think that? Sighing, you glanced at the clock. Five minutes past his usual starting time, and he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe you were going to get your wish? You wiped your hands on the front of your apron. Nodding to the other waitress that you were going to go on break. As you made your way through the room, you heard his voice over the microphone.

Can I stay here with you till day breaks?

There something you should know I ain't got no place to go

Can I stay here with you till the day breaks?

How happy it would make me to see your face when I awake

Turning, you listened as Llewyn plucked his guitar strings, his eyes locked with your figure. Gradually, you stepped around the tables towards the stage.

Lay with me in your thinnest dress

Fill my heart with each caress

Between your blissful kisses

Whisper darling, is this love

Seating yourself at the front table, you folded your hands in your lap. Llewyn nodded to you. A humble smile spread over his face as his eyes followed you to your seat.

Can I stay here with you through the nighttime

I've fallen sad inside

And I need a place to hide

Can I stay here with you through the nighttime

I'm all alone and blue

Won't you take me to your room

You took a deep breath as Llewyn sang to you. Of course, this would be how he would choose to fix things. Your eyes followed the movement of his lips, his gorgeous long lashes, and irresistible curls. Tides of sensations surged over you with every verse.

Lay with me in your thinnest dress

Fill my heart with each caress

Between your blissful kisses

Whisper darling, is this love

Whisper to me is this love

You knew you were crying, but what wasn't anticipated was Llewyn's glistening eyes shining back at you from the stage. The last line hung heavy in the air. Is this love? Suddenly, your feet were carrying you out of the bar.

- - - -

You paced back and forth in front of your couch. You had called the bar and told them you had gotten sick and had to go quickly. You were waiting, waiting for his familiar knock on the door. You knew he would show up. Where did that song come from? How long had he been sitting on that? Possessing those kinds of feelings? You jumped when you heard him.

Looking at the clock, he had given you an hour to yourself before he followed you home. Swallowing down the rush of anxiety in your throat, you opened the door. Llewyn looked surprised to see you open the door, probably resigning himself to the idea that you weren't going to let him inside. You moved, signaling him to enter. Locking the door, you joined him in the living room. Llewyn was already seated in his spot by the window, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"I didn't think you would answer." He murmured as he rotated the lighter in his hands.

"Yeah, I wasn't sure I was going to either." You sat at the farthest end of the couch from him. Llewyn shifted in obvious discomfort.

"Look...I am sorry about last night...about the way I left." Llewyn's nostrils flared as he stumbled through his words. "You know...I've been writing that song for months. Telling myself that I would share it with you once it was finished, so you would know. But last night." Llewyn stopped gnawing his bottom lip for a second before taking a drag from his cigarette. " I didn't expect last night to happen. The timing was off. I wanted to be more stable, more...secure." His eyes sank to the carpet. "You deserve so much more, I know that..." You balled your fists to your side, cutting him off before he finished.

"I don't care, Llewyn. I don't care if you are secure." Llewyn shook his head dejectedly.

"Right, I am sure everyone wishes one day that they can meet Mr. Poor and Homeless and have them sweep them off their feet." He grimaced at his words. Standing, you moved to him, falling to your knees in front of him.

"They why sing the song? Why come here?" You murmured, staring into his clouded eyes. Llewyn's lips trembled as he took a quick puff from his cigarette before dropping it in the can.

"I couldn't stay away...I couldn't get the taste of your kiss and smell of your hair out of my fucking head." Llewyn rapped his brow. "I am in love with you, despite my best efforts." He hummed, lowering his gaze to his hands.

Slowly, you moved your hand to his head, carefully running his waves through your fingers. Llewyn surprisingly turned and caressed a kiss to your wrist before pulling you closer to him, cupping your face in his hands.

"I don't deserve you." He whispered, touching your foreheads together. Shaking your head, you rubbed your nose against his.

"You don't, but I will keep you anyways." Beaming at Llewyn's growing smirk, you tugged tenderly at his curls before drawing him into a deep kiss.

- - -

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