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fairy-angel222 · 1 month

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𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 ft Gojo Satoru

— Six years. He’s loved you for six years. He was too young back then but now he’s not. And he plans on showing you that.

᧔♡᧓ Semi Yandere! Gojo x Fem! Reader

᧔♡᧓ Content: age gap (gojo’s 21 n reader is 27), obsessive behavior, smut, pussy eating, porn with some plot, cheating while in talking stage, petnames, praise, breeding, baby trapping, manipulation, gaslighting

᧔♡᧓ A/n: reader always saw gojo as a brother since he was so young, and never really developed feelings for him. it was just lust taking over when they fucked

Six years of friendship with your current best friend. Six years in which her little brother Gojo has had a crush on you. Six years of you only cooing with a giggle as you ruffled his fluffy white head of hair before calling his doting nature cute.

Six years.

Six years that he’s waited for you, becoming more of a man for you. Working out, gaining experience. It was all for you.

You’re twenty seven now, barely any different since the first time he met you. Your soft features still as beautiful as ever and your body just as perfect as he remembered. He’s studied you over the years. Every single time you came over. Studied your patterns, your every move, your likes, your dislikes, he’d even gotten to know your type.

He’d loved you since he was fifteen.

But he’s not a little kid anymore. He’s grown. Twenty one years old. Mature enough to be yours, to take care of you. He deserved you after waiting for so long. And he would show you. Show you that you needed him just as bad, craved him as much as he craved you. He’s the one for you, you just had to open your eyes and see that.

Gojo knows you feel at least a slight bit of attraction towards him. Hell, you’d called him handsome so many times— even though it had been strictly platonic— that you have to had felt something.. right?

On his eighteenth birthday you were there with him, his friends and his sister. He’d even brought a girl, introducing her as his girlfriend to try for a reaction out of you. But you didn’t bat an eye, you were genuinely happy for him. It made his jaw clench, but he was reminded of why he loved you. You were so sweet and caring. A big smile on your face as you embraced him in a hug, giving him the present that you’d been so excited to get. It was something that he had wanted for a while. A part of you saw him and his sister as the siblings you’d never had.

He didn’t need your gift, of course. He had enough money to buy anything he wanted. But it being from you made it special.. so so very special. Especially since you had listened to him. And it was his turn to return the favor. The random expensive gifts never stopped, every time you came over for the next three years it seemed that there was always something wrapped and waiting for you. Somethings just never change, you thought to yourself, piecing together that the boy’s crush had never left.

Then his gifts started getting more and more.. well, whatever you’d consider those matching lace sets that were accompanied a little note that made you swallow hard. Followed up by short dresses and eventually fancy shoes and purses to match. Not to mention the collection of jewelry you’d gotten from him.

Then he was.. less subtle, sending small smirks and winks your way. Finding any excuse just to be next to you or let his hands innocently wander during a hug.

You were not going to tell his sister. You didn’t want there to be any problems between them. You also couldn’t just start coming over less, she was like family to you. So you let his harmless crush continue.

…

Gojo swears luck was on his side, the universe wanting to make things easier for him. You had a boyfriend, a guy you worked with who was a good five years older than you. Like he said, you had a type, and he checked out none of these boxes. He knew everything about the dude, and he knew that he was not good enough for you. He tried to warn you, but what did you do? You smiled at what you took as him being worried about your well being.

So when you came knocking on his front door, flinging yourself into his sister’s arms as you cried into her shoulder. He knew. That asshole had broken your heart. He’d deal with it. He’d truly make the guy regret hurting you.

You were at his house all week, falling into the stage of the break up where you sat in your room (with their house so big you were bound to have one if your own) watching tv with a tub of ice cream and a string of adorable laughter. Anything to take your mind off the sting in your chest.

Then you were out. Everywhere. Going to clubs and parties with his sister just as you two did when you were a little younger. It was reckless, what if you got hurt? What is someone tried something? You were a sight for sore eyes after all. He would make sure to never let that happen. It was why he always accompanied you, whether you were aware of it or not. It was no surprise that you were never able to get laid, despite all the ogling eyes set on you.

…

Gojo leaned against the bathroom’s door frame as you emptied your stomach’s contents into the toilet in front of you. Small moans of displeasure filling the room as your body slumped against it. After math of a night full of drinking.

His arms were folded across his chest, muscles bulging through the tight black fabric which was paired with grey sweats which hung lowly on his hips. Gojo chuckled, pushing himself to stand straight before walking over to you. Stooping down to your current height with the shake of his head. “You should know better than this baby.”

Your brows furrowed, opening your mouth to question him before your head was over the bowl once more. Tears welling in your eyes at the massive headache that had sprung to life. “Shh shh shh baby.” He whispered, “let it all out, you’ll feel better soon.” He soothed, pushing stray strands away from your sweaty forehead while stroking softly at your hair. Whispering little words of encouragement as he held you, smiling sadly when the hug caused you to break down in his arms. No doubt reminding you of your recent breakup.

“Here, i brought you some panadol.” He reached for the two pills and the cup of water on the counter. Letting you sit with your back against his chest as he guided them up to your mouth, bringing the cup to your lips right after. “Here, drink it all okay?” You nodded, swallowing down the water along with the pain relievers. Gojo’s lips pressing softly to your head as he continued to stroke your skin.

You’d fallen asleep. And he’d laid you down on his bed instead of yours. Tucking you in and leaving you to rest.

Downstairs he found his sister, an empty cup sat in front of her along with the pill bottle. She’d clearly been hungover too. “Where is she?”

Gojo gave her a knowing look. “She’s sleeping.”

“Where?”

“My room.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing, not liking the way she was watching him. Was she really that selfish over her best friend.

“Satoru.. she’s twenty seven. You need to get over this stupid little crush of yours and go find someone your own age. She doesn’t want you, she never will.”

Gojo seethed, fists already at his side as he stared angrily at his sister. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Satoru come on-“

“No.” His voice was firm, he didn’t look angry anymore, he looked hurt. “Just.. shut up, please.” A part of him knew that maybe he’d just never be enough for you.

…

Making his way back upstairs Gojo had a plate of pancakes, bacon and eggs along with a glass of hot tea. He walked into his room to find your eyes only just fluttering open with the small stretch of your body. Blinking your eyes to adjust to the bright light while taking in your surroundings, realizing immediately where you were, and who was standing at the door.

“Oh.. Satoru, hi.” Your voice was timid, embarrassed to have been seen in your drunken state by the boy.

“Hey, how’s your head? I brought you breakfast.” He set the food down near the bed before taking a seat next to you. Allowing his fingers to play with the fallen hair from your bun.

“T-thanks.” You nodded, shifting to sit up before grabbing a strip of the crispy meat.

He wouldn’t stop staring at you, couldn’t stop staring at you. And you smiled in his direction, “thanks a lot, i should really get back to my room though.”

He shrugged, “or you could just stay, it’s not like we’re doing anything.” He grinned. “Yet.”

You couldn’t help the way your cheeks heated up at that statement. “It’s okay, i think i’ll just-“

“Stay. Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll even put on your favorite.” Reaching for the remote to search for your favorite show. You bit your lip nervously, not understanding how he could act so normal after all the inappropriate gifts and advances.

His smile never faltered as his hand ‘accidentally’ found yours, slipping his fingers into your own. Not allowing you to let go even if you tried.

…

The next few days were.. good. Gojo had assumed that everything was going well. They were going well, until you decided to ruin everything.

Toji Fushiguro.

A forty something year old man with two children. That’s who you were talking to. Gojo didn’t appreciate how hard you making things for him. You were supposed to be his and he was supposed to be yours.

He was tired of waiting for you to come to him, so he went to you. Knocking on your door with vigor and a small scowl. When the door swung open you were mid-laugh, Toji coming into view behind you with a glass of champagne in hand.

“Seriously? You’ve been ignoring us for him? Him?” Gojo accused pointedly, “My sister misses you, she’s been crying. A lot. Says you’re choosing a guy over your friendship.”

His jaw was hard as he fed you lies through his teeth. Watching your eyes widen as you pondered. Were you ignoring your best friend? You’d seen her just earlier today. You guys had hung out, gone for lunch. Talked about who you both liked with big smiles and non stop giggles. It didn’t feel like anything had changed. “I.. I didn’t realize- i’m sorry.” You didn’t know what to say, it made zero sense. But why would he lie?

Gojo silently cheered as you sadly asked Toji to leave. Giving him a small kiss on the cheek and promising to call him tomorrow. He was not very happy about the last part, but at least he was alone with you.

As soon as he left Gojo marched into your apartment. Nearly falling over his two feet when the scent hit him. Your scent, stronger than ever, that sweet strawberry smell that he’d grown to love.

“Satoru, i didn’t-”

He couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t. “It’s okay I forgive you.” Turning around for his hand to snake to the back of your neck, heart rate speeding up as he crashed his lips onto yours.

You whimpered in surprise, Gojo controlling the kiss as he backed you up against a wall. His lips quickly traveling down to your neck in desperation. “You know, i’ve waited so long. So fucking long. Waited for you. For us. I’ve given you everything, i’ve done everything. But it’s just never enough is it? You’re just too ungrateful huh baby?”

You moaned loudly. “Satoru.. what are you.. hmm.”

“I’m taking what’s mine baby. Taking what i deserve. I’m not a little boy anymore. I’m a man. I can take care of you.” His lips moved with force, sucking harshly at your skin as he kissed down your chest, free hand roaming to your ass with a squeeze. “I’m old enough to be yours. This isn’t just some crush anymore. I fucking love you.”

You could feel your heart pounding as he uttered the words you wished he hadn’t. “Satoru we can’t.. your sister’s my best friend. I’m still older than you.”

“She’ll get over it.” He breathed, making quick work of your tank top that clung deliciously to your tits. “We’re both consenting adults now aren’t we. If you tell me to stop, i’ll stop.”

Your mouth went dry, lips parting to demand him to go but you couldn’t. You didn’t want him too. What was wrong with you?

“So what will it be baby? Stop? Or don’t stop?”

“Don’t stop..” You mumbled in shame, avoiding his eyes as you looked away. Gojo’s fingers dug into your cheeks, forcing you to turn back to face him.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I said, don’t stop.” You said a little louder, cheeks burning up under his touch.

“Good girl. I knew you were playing hard to get.” He grinned, “You love the chase as much as i do.”

Gojo’s arms hooked under your thighs, lifting you onto him before reattaching your lips. Carrying you to your bedroom to drop you onto the sheets. Lips never leaving yours as you both hurriedly undressed. He was addicted to you, and having you set fire to his veins. This was all he’d ever wanted.

Gojo dropped to his knees before you, kissing lightly at your pussy before enclosing it with his mouth. Tongue lapping you up hungrily as you moaned, fingers finding his hair with a tremble.

“Satoru— feels so good, haah.” You breathed, Gojo burying his face between your legs with a tight grip on your thighs. Allowing your legs to wrap around his neck as he devoured your sopping heat. You were so sweet— just like everything else about you. And he couldn’t help but rut against nothing as more blood rushed to his cock. Finding pleasure in getting to taste you after years of jerking off to the image.

He’s seen your room more than you, always snatching a pair of anything he could find. Just to be able to hold you in any way or form. Feel you on his skin. Touch something that had already touched you.

Gojo pulled away with his face glistening, “Learned how to do this just for you baby. Wanted to be good for our first time.” He smiled lazily, eyes dark with need as he got back to work, sending muffled groans into your bundle of nerves while you mewled loudly. Back arching with the curl of your toes before trying to pull away.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Gojo growled lowly, fingers digging painlessly into your flesh as he pulled you impossibly closer, tongue flicking at your clit before his lips closed around it. Sucking and swirling the sensitive bud into his mouth with a satisfied hum. All while you cried out above him, moans getting louder each time you called out his name.

It was like music. The sweetest song ever. Hearing you moan for him, moan out of pleasure, need, lust. Knowing that it was him making you feel so good. He almost came right there, determined to give you the best orgasm of your life with just his tongue. You tugged at his strands, your vision blurred in the nearing of your high.

“Satoru— o-oh fuck Satoru, ‘m gonna cum. Nngh, you’re gonna make me cum.” You moaned noisily, lewd slurps and sloppily kisses filling your ears as he made out with your wet pussy.

Gojo loved how much you were squirming, your legs tightening around his neck as you screamed. You actually screamed. He made you scream. His tongue was awaiting when you began to shake, toes curled and eyes rolled back as you squirted nonstop. The clear liquid gushing onto his face and tongue in long streams.

You whined at the overstimulation when he licked a stripe up your pussy. Collecting every last bit of your sweetness before standing up. You were panting, hard. And Gojo felt accomplished as he smirked. “Has any older man ever made you cum this hard baby?”

Your head was dizzy, trying to bring yourself back down to earth as you blinked up at him with the shake of your head.

He scoffed in pride, “Now try telling me that i’m too young for you now.”

Gojo was quick to lay you flat on the bed and crawl in on top of you. Consequences of your latest activities still fresh on his chin and chest. There were so many positions he wanted to take you in, but first he wanted to see you fall apart under him. See your face contort into one of pure bliss when he started pounding into you.

“You ready for me?” He husked, impressive cock already swiping up and down your slick filled folds. You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes with parted lips. “Ready.”

You both shared a drawn out moan when he nestled his cock past your tight entrance. Feeling him graze your gummy walls before reaching deep within you.

You felt so good, so tight.. warm. And he felt so deep, so big.. perfect.

“This pussy was made for me.” He grunted with a loud groan, slowly speeding up his pace till he was fucking into you with no end. Hips snapping into yours as his cock kissed your spot, prodding at your cervix with every hard thrust. “Fuck- look at how well you’re taking me. Fucking swallowing me all the way in.”

You only moaned in response, teary eyes meeting his sinful ones as he molded you around his cock. Making sure that you knew nothing but the shape of him, the feel of him, when you were done.

Letting out the whiniest cry, your arms reached up around his shoulders, clawing at his skin when you felt your stomach tighten.

You could feel him so deep, the roll of his hips allowing his fat tip to curl up and kiss exactly where you needed it most. The fast pace pulling short screams past your swollen lips.

“Satoru— haah, you’re so deep. I love it s’ much Toru. So m-much— ahh.” You couldn’t think straight, your brain only registering the way he was sliding in and out of you. It was all you could think about in that moment l, the way he felt.

Gojo watched you fall apart, just like he wanted. Your glossy eyes closing as your head fell further into the pillow, unable to control your noises as you got closer and closer.

“You don’t know how hot you look right now. I love seeing you like this. All for me.” His voice cracked, cock twitching in an aching cry to get its release.

“S-satoru, ‘m so close. Gonna cum again.” You choked out, nails piercing into his broad back as your hands roamed down.

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess f’ me again hmm? All that denying me, making me feel like our love was one sided. You put me through a lot you know.” He shook his head. “If only you knew the lengths i’d go for you.”

His eyes were crazed, and a shiver raked through your body at his words, whimpering as you succumbed to the building pleasure with a mewl. “O-oh fuckk.”

“Nuh uh, baby. Apologize to me first then you cum.” His tone was firm, serious. He wanted to hear you say it.

“Ahh, ‘m sorry Satoru— ‘m so so sorry. You’re goid enough f’ me. Mature enough. You’re perfect. Please let me cum. I need to cum.” You cried, the man on top of you pretending to ponder your words which went straight to his cock before smiling darkly. “Go ahead baby, cum for me.”

Your body shook as you yelled out his name, your surroundings becoming blank when you began to squirt messily, again. The intense orgasm seeming to stun all of your body’s systems as you failed to come back down. Gojo’s continued thrusts keeping pleasure flowing through your sensitive body.

“I love you so much baby. I always did. It makes me so happy that we can finally be together. Fuckk— ‘m all yours. All yours.” He buried his face in your neck, his own eyes closing shut as his body trembled, stilling inside your warmth before you felt his cum pumping into you in spurts. The thick substance coating your every wall in white.

“And now you’re mine.” He didn’t pull out, staying buried inside you in hopes of you two being connected forever. There was one thing he knew and you forgot. You hadn’t taken your birth control in a while, and a part of him hoped that you had seen this coming. That you wanted it. But one thing remained true either way, he was never letting you go.

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oliviajdjarin · 5 months

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Din Djarin: Come and Get Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After a job leaves you trapped, you realize how much you have come to trust the legendary Mandalorian.

Excerpt: “Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

Warnings: claustrophobia, panicking, panic attack, crying, so much banter, dinny boy gets *stern, * but only because he is in love hehe.

A/N: happy dincember my people :)

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

(gif credit to pinterest)

“Why are droids always so angry?”

A deep sigh arose through your comlink.

“Because everyone is always pushing their buttons.”

Silence.

“You’re holding back your laughter.”

“That is absolutely not what is happening,” Din responded, voiced husked with his ever-present exhaustion.

“I can feel it,” you countered. “You are actively killing braincells trying to hold it back.”

“That is not what is killing my braincells,” Din responded, and you gave a dry chuckle back.

“Just get the credits and get out,” Din said, “we have other jobs to do.”

“Yes sir,” you responded sarcastically, pulling down your mask. It was a soft obsidian fabric that covered everything but your eyes.

“Need I remind you it is your fault we are here in the first place?” Din asked, knowing it would push your own button.

Greef had known you since you were a kid, your parents always calling him a “close family friend.” In actuality, your parents were his most profitable bounty hunters, and they had worked with him until they physically couldn’t anymore.

Without hesitation, choosing you take their place.

They had trained you from birth, ingraining into you the strength, cleverness, patience, persistence, and of course the wit needed to be an adequate replacement.

In Greef’s own words, you were “more than adequate.”

You worked for him for over a decade before finally meeting the infamous Mandalorian. His name had been circling for a while before you met him, allowing him to climb the ladder of Greef’s good graces (a particularly slippery ladder, in your opinion), as well as the ladder of wealth. You didn’t mind at first, sticking to the lot of bounties Greef would assign you every month, and minding your business.

That was until this Mandalorian started getting your pick of the lot.

“He’s just as good as you are,” Greef had said to you. “Your skill sets are incredibly complimentary. It is best for me financially to have you both going at once.”

You scoffed into your drink. “Give me a break, smartass. Next thing I know it will ‘best for you financially’ to have us working together.”

“It was a joke, asshole,” you responded to Din. “I’ll admit, not one of my best.”

Din sighed and remained silent. After two dozen jobs together, he had learned how old that jab was becoming.

“Going in now,” you said quietly, pulling out your gun and – as quietly as you could – shooting through the lock on the front door of what had to have been the biggest house you had ever seen. The outside was made with some rare limestone that glimmered in the moonlight which, in your opinion, literally shouted “rob me.” The owners of this house had tricked Greef, running off with the sum of money he had owed you and Din for a previous job (quite convenient, if you said so yourself). Greef agreed to pay you and Din triple your original salary if you got it back for him.

And here you were.

The door squeaked on its hinges as you opened it, revealing a pitch-black living area. You took one step inside, and as you did, a generator must have kicked on, because the room was instantly lit up. You gasped, stepping back in fear of a possible alarm, but as you waited a few seconds, there was no such thing.

“You okay?” Din asked quietly. If you weren’t shitting your pants, you might have teased him for seeming like he actually cared.

“Yeah,” you responded, winded. “Yeah. Fine.”

You looked around the room, jaw falling open slowly as you did. It might as well have been a museum. Paintings, vases, chandeliers, stones, and jewels. You could tell one thing and one thing only.

Whoever these people were, they were fucking loaded.

“Hey, Din,” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“Did Greef say anything about being allowed to steal anything else?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Got it,” you said, and moved further into the house.

“Greef paid some gungan to have dinner with them, so there shouldn’t be anyone in the house.”

“I was at the meeting for this job, Din.”

“I know,” he said, “Just checking.”

His voice was laced with an undertone of…hurt. You didn’t have time to think about that.

“I’m headed to the master bedroom,” you said, weaving your way through objects worth more than you would ever see in ten lifetimes. “I’ll let you know when I find the box.”

“Alright,” Din responded, and you carried on.

You circled the first floor of the house, hemming and hawing at what seemed to be an endless supply of riches.

“Are we focused, Y/N?”

“Lazer,” you responded after almost touching the shiniest blue stone you had ever seen. “Nothing on the first floor.”

“Okay,” Din responded. “How-how you holding up?”

Your eyebrows wrinkled together. “Fine. How about you?”

“I’m good,” he said softly. “Just now realizing we have never done a job like this before. Me only hearing you through the comlink. I’m used to being next to you.”

“Oh, the poor Mandalorian, all alone in the desert, cursed with the job of keeping watch. You missing me big guy?”

“Just missing being faster than you,” he jabbed. “It’s good for my ego.”

“Har har,” you responded, opening the first door you found at the top of the stairs. “You can’t deny I give you a run for your money though.”

“You sure do,” he said, once again laced with emotion. What the fuck was with him?

And why did you keep noticing?

You opened the door and were welcomed by what had to have been the biggest bed you had ever seen in your life. It took up half the room, with the rest of it being looted with more treasures, including plants, shelves of books, and…

…a music box.

“Bingo,” you said.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a game you play for fun,” you responded. “You wouldn’t be familiar with the concept.”

“Very original.”

“I’ll be here all night,” you said with a smirk, and walked to the box. You pulled it off the shelf delicately, feeling the weight of credits in the bottom. You laughed happily, unable to hold it in.

Din laughed too. He understood immediately.

You felt for the seal on the front and began to pull it open carefully. You got it about halfway open before it immediately shut, snapping your fingers into it.

“Mother –” you said, pulling your fingers out and holding them to your chest.

“You okay?” Din asked quickly, almost as soon as the word left your mouth.

“Yeah,” you said, flexing your fingers. You laughed lightly. “I think this house may be out to get me.”

As if you spoke it into existence, all the lights in the house suddenly shut down, soaking you in darkness. Strobe lights of red began to pulse on the ceiling, the door to the bedroom shut automatically, and an ear-piercing alarm permeated the room.

You were suddenly unmoving.

“Y/N?” Din asked, his voice a whisper above the alarms. “Y/N, what is that?”

The box fell from your grip.

“Din…” you said, chest constricting, muscles locking, brain failing. “Din…”

“What’s going on?”

You started shaking your head, making your way to the door slowly. You jiggled the doorknob, then pulled on it, then yanked on it, then threw your body into it.

It was no use. You were locked in from the outside.

“Din, I –” your voice cracked with a sob. “Din, I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded like he was walking.

“I’m-I’m trapped,” you said, sobs now fully escaping from your mouth. “Din I’m trapped. They know I’m here. They’re gonna…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, hand cupping your mouth as you began to hyperventilate, because suddenly, you were a child again. Put up against one of your parents’ countless tests. Locked in a basement, or a ship, or your own room, forced to find a way out, told that in the real world, if you couldn’t find a way out, you would likely be killed.

You could never pasts their tests. Never.

“Din, they’re gonna kill me.”

“Shut up,” he said firmly. It sounded like he was moving faster. “You’re not gonna die.”

His tone was unconvincing.

“Din,” you cried, tears staining the fabric covering your face, snot soaking through it. Panic was seeping itself into your bones. “Din, what do I do? What do I do?”

“You’ve gotta find a way out.”

“I can’t,” you wheezed, body sliding down the door and onto the floor, the alarms and the red overstimulating your every nerve. “I can’t Din. It’s so loud,”

“Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

You nodded, now plugging your ears, and closing your eyes, rocking yourself back and forth subconsciously.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” he said, his voice suddenly nasally. “I swear to the maker I’m going to get you out of there. I just need your help, okay?”

You tried your best to gather breath. “Okay. Okay.”

“Okay,” he said. “I need you to see if there are any windows in the room. Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed, standing on shaking legs, ears still plugged. You squinted as you walked slowly, finally reaching a wall. You then felt the wall with one hand and walked forward until you felt something that resembled glass.

“I-I found one.”

“Good,” he said, sounding peculiarly winded. “Now, I’m going to need you to break it.”

You sobbed once more. “How?”

“Anything. Shoot at it, throw things at it, the fucking music box for all I care. Anything.”

You swallowed again, breathing in as deep of a breath as you could, before pulling out your gun. You felt the glass once again, and slowly backed away from it. You continued to release faint cries as you did, holding up your gun with quivering fingers, before letting blasts fly.

You heard some cracks as they landed against the glass. Once you halted your firing, you made your way back over to it, and realized they weren’t nearly enough.

“I’m going to have to kick it,” you said, some semblance of power returning into your voice.

Din didn’t respond.

You backed away again, breaths still rapid and voice still raw. But you gave that piece of fucking glass your all.

Your foot went right through it, cutting shards into your calf and ankle.

You grunted, falling back into the room.

“You get it?” Din asked, panting.

“Yeah,” you said, clutching your leg. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Good. Now stand up.”

You did.

“Walk to the window.”

You did.

“And jump.”

“What?”

“Jump now.”

It was in that moment that you realized that you truly, unequivocally, deeply trusted the Mandalorian. Because you jumped into the dark, cold night, and he caught you, mid-air.

You gasped as you landed in his arms, watching as the ground beneath you whizzed by, eyelids pealed back in awe.

A smooth, gloved hand framed your cheek and pulled your vision upwards, locking it into his visor.

You stared at him, the remnants of tears against the cold wind freezing your face, and yet his hand was the true culprit of your goosebumps.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. The flames from his jet pack illuminating his armor in golds and reds.

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

He nodded, diverting his gaze to stare forward into the night, but keeping his hand pressed against your face.

You would say it was the shock, or the trauma, or the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In reality, all you wanted was comfort – his comfort. You couldn’t stop yourself.

You rested your forehead against the side of his visor and closed your eyes, scooting your body as close to his as possible as the two of you shot through the sky.

“Thank you, Din,” you said, tears escaping you once more. “Thank you.”

Din audibly swallowed, then removed his hand from your cheek and used it to remove your mask, before sliding his hand into the hair at the back of your neck.

“I swore to you I’d get you out of there,” he said, his voice crackly and weak. “I don’t break promises.”

You nodded against his visor, clutching desperately onto the fabric around his neck. He smelled of sweat, metal, and home.

“I’ve got you now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Tag list: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

burned-dorito, @tiredbuthappyppy @em---r @just-a-sewer-goblinlin @punkiwiki @lovesbiggerthanprideerthanpride @darth-voder @samanthacookieone @torchbearerkylee @stardust-galaxies @c4psicle @joelsflannell @mysun-n-stars@tateelii @darth-voder @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgothh @thesmutslut @alastorhazbinbin @grincheveryday @reader8679 @cockscombkingdom

@lexloon @pauphs @enjoyyourlatttebitch

@miss-goldenweek

@darling-murdockk @1deadpool266 @queen-nothing-blogg @burnt-dorito @untitledareaa @julialoopeezz @daphne-turner @jediknightjanaa @sasakipspoststs

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nmakii · 1 month

Text

CAN’T REMEMBER TO FORGET YOU

[before you read this, check out the rest of the story!]

— running away from alastor wasn’t so hard the first time, who says you can’t do it again while pregnant?

alastor; the monster you call husband. he was absolutely by all definitions, obsessed. he never left your side— cooking all your meals, escorting you everywhere, even watching you sleep.

he proudly announced your pregnancy on live radio, sealing that you are his. no man will want for you anymore, he has defiled your purity. he clung onto you like a leech, draining away what little happiness you had left.

you just had to get away from that monster. you couldn’t stand another second in this hellhole house, everything in it was a cruel reminder that you’re trapped with no way to escape.

well, you’re not gonna just fall into his trap. it was then that you had planned to run away. far into saint bernard, where no one knew who you were.

and with that plan in mind, you packed all you could and ran. running south with wild abandon, you needed to run far as far from alastor as possible.

you took shelter at a rundown motel while you got back on your feet, taking a singing gig at a club down the street.

you sang well, earning favorable tips from the drunk men who desired you, wanting to see what else was underneath your signature loose flowy dresses. and with that money, you were able to afford a small house with the basic necessities. well, enough for when your child was born.

being a single mother had been rough, when you went to work at night, you entrusted your son, noah with one of your neighbors who you had grown fond of. you sent noah off to a public school, it was not the best, but it was all you could afford.

soon enough, your hard work truly paid off, you were able to live much more comfortably, buying your son the things he could ever want for.

true, there were times that your son wondered where his father was… and to that, you decided to tell him the complete truth; of how alastor is an evil man, a sort of big bad wolf. and, how you ran away to protect him and keep him safe from that wolf.

and, to him, that was a reasonable explanation.

7 years passed by, your son grew into a handsome little boy. handsome, yet you couldn’t look him in the eye. everyday, as he grew up, he started looking more and more just like his father; the tuft of chestnut brown hair, those piercing eyes, and that smile— it was all resembling the monster you ran away from. it seems as if all that your son inherited from you was your heart.

as you walked over to the bar, you spotted your co-worker mimzy slacking off. it wasn’t often that your shifts had co-incided, but the two of you still remained aquaintances. she was apparently talking up some fellow, probably trying to milk some cash out of him.

and as you took a peek of the poor soul mimzy had decided to prey on, your frame froze. was that alastor? what was he doing so far out from new orleans? your breath hitched as you walked back, trying to move as far away from that wretched man.

maybe you shouldn’t buy heels from thrift stores anymore.

the heel on your right foot snapped as you fell onto your butt. this had caught the attention of alastor, excusing himself from the conversation as he walked towards you.

you shuffled back into the crowd as best as you could, crawling away before he could get his hands on you. and still, you weren’t fast enough. alastor bended down by his waist, a smile plastered on his face. “why, say it ain’t so! if it isn’t my darling wife.” he laughed. “ex-wife.” you corrected. “ah-ah” alastor tutted, wagging his finger. “wife. we never had a formal divorce. did we, dear?”

“whatever…” you scoffed, still moving back. “say, where is our child? the one you’ve hidden from me for 7 years? i’m sure they’ll be delighted to meet me after you’ve kept us apart for so long!” he rambled on. “get away from me, alastor. you’ll never meet my child.” you said, finally getting back up on your feet, albeit the broken heel. “won’t you at least tell me their name?” he pleaded, doe eyes begging you. the doe eyes that made you crawl back every time.

“…noah. his name is noah” you frowned, glaring up at alastor. “noah. what a beautiful name for our son.” he mused. “now, would you leave me alone?” you hissed, pushing him away.

despite his lanky frame, alastor had barely moved. “my love, do you think i of all people would let you off the hook so easily? all the scheming, forcing you into an affair, into running away, crawling back to me, even following you far into this club— i wouldn’t want it all to be for naught…” he frowned, explaining his plan as he backed you into a wall, a predatory shine in the way he stared at you.

alastor planned it all..? all the ‘hardships’ you faced— all of it was in some elaborate scheme. no word could’ve described the overwhelming betrayal that overcame you. you just wanted to get out of this club, run home to your son, and run farther away. to another city, a different state, or even a different country! anything to keep him far away from his father. “now that you’ve had your fun, dear… i think it’s time you and noah return home. you can’t keep my son away from me forever. plus, my mother has been dying to meet her grandchild!” he laughed, holding you by the waist.

alastor took note of how you submissively agreed, letting him take you back to your true home. it seems you finally learned your lesson; there’s no escaping alastor. no matter what you do, it’ll end with you back in his bed, back in his arms.

“come now, my doe. it’s not safe to leave noah alone at home.” he chided, opening your side of the car door. “he must be quite confused right now. after all, he’s in the room we had prepared for him all those years ago, he must have no idea where he is right now!”

ah…

there was no use keeping alastor away.

he’d always find his way back, even through drab methods.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hasbin alastor #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hc #alastor headcanons #human alastor #alastor the radio demon #yandere alastor #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere

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scarletlizzard · 3 months

Note

OH I SEE YOURE TAKING REQUESTS...what about emo!wanda x emo!reader but wanda is like >:( and reader is more ^_^ happy and then reader is best friend's bucky and wanda is so jealous. idk it can be fluff or smut !! ( i tried to be a little more specific

Jealousy

Pairing: wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: smut, wanda in a skirt, fingering (R receiving), little arguing, jealousy!

A/N: Hiii anon! Thank you soo much for your request!! It's been a busy week sorry for being late, but I hope this is okay and you enjoy jealous Wanda 😊

Wanda knows deep down that you would never cheat on her. She knows how much you loved her, how much you cared about her. In the time she's spent here at the Avengers campus, she's only ever taken a real liking to you, not interested in truly getting to know the others. And you, thankfully, gave her everything she needed.

But right now, she couldn't help the heavy feeling in her chest as she watched you with your best friend.

She stood with her arms crossed, biting down on her lip so hard it may just bleed, staring at you and Bucky. Wanda watches as your hand touches his arm, your head thrown back in a fit of laughter. He smiles at you with fond eyes, and oh, she can't take it anymore.

"Having fun?" She asks, words coming out more bitterly than she had planned.

"Wanda!" You say, and the way you beam at her almost makes her feel guilty. Then Bucky turns too, with his arm slung around your shoulder.

"Come to join in? We could actually use your help. It turns out both of us are shit at baking," Bucky jokes, and you both laugh, looking at the mess around the kitchen.

Your smile fades, though when you see the seriousness in Wandas face. Buckys arm slowly slides off of you, scratching his head awkwardly in the silence. Wanda tilts her head and okay, you were fucked.

"Actually, you know," Bucky clears his throat and looks at the time. "I was supposed to meet Steve for training a little bit ago." His metal arm pats your shoulder, giving you a good luck look before walking out of the kitchen.

"Baby... what's wrong?" You frown and walk around the counter to her, your hands moving up to her shoulders. She shrugs you off, crossing her arms. "What's your problem?" You ask, annoyed she was pushing you away.

"What's my problem?" Wanda spits out, a sarcastic laugh leaving her lips. "My problem is you two are always all over each other! He's always looking at you like he wants to fuck you!"

"That's not true!" You defend, raising your voice to match hers. "Bucky is my best friend, that's it! That's all we've ever been, all we will be."

"Right, okay. You're literally always hanging out with him, I dont see why you have to spend so much time together." She rolls her eyes.

"We're friends!"

"Friends don't eye fuck the other friend! Don't be so stupid."

Your eyes widen at her words.

"Sorry you don't have any friends to hangout with because you fucking hate everyone." You cross your arms, dishing it out as she does.

"Fuck you," Wanda replies.

"Just because you're jealous doesn't mean you have to take it out on me."

Her eyes shoot daggers at you.

"Jealous? I am not jealous." She seethes, taking a step forward. Your back hits the counter as you take a step back, her usually soft green eyes dark as she peers into yours.

"You are so jealous." You bite your lip, taking in her angry appearance. She wore your zip-up jacket over her shirt, a dark skirt around her hips. Her fingernails were still black from when she painted them the other day.

Wanda doesn't speak, she only takes another step, pressing her chest against yours. The tension between the two of you built up with every word spoken.

"I'm not jealous, Y/N. You want to know why?" She asks, her hands move to the counter behind you, trapping you in her presence. You only look up in reply, with a questioning look. "Because you're mine. And if I have to remind you of that again, I will."

Wandas eyes flash red, and you feel yourself being lifted a few inch onto the counter.

"Wanda, what are you-" You look around the empty kitchen and to her, who is now level face to face. Her hands moved to your thighs, spreading them apart, and you've never been more grateful for stealing one of her shorter skirts this morning.

"What if someone walks in?" You ask, feeling the wetness pool in your panties at the way she kisses your neck.

"Hopefully, it'll be him." She mumbles, and your cheeks burn red at the possibility. You feel her fingers slide your soaked panties to the side. You grip onto the jacket she wore, pulling her as close as possible.

"So wet, detka... tell me who made you this way," Wanda whispers, and you feel her fingers dip inside of you easily. You bite back a moan as she begins to move them.

"You, Wanda.. fuck - just you," you lean forward, pressing your face against her neck as she fingers you right there.

"Don't hide those pretty moans, let me hear you."

"I'm yours!" You moan out.

"Say it again."

"I'm yours, Wanda," you pant against her skin, her fingers thrusting inside of you at a quicker pace. When you feel her thumb press against your clit you feel that familiar burn in the pit of your stomach.

"Nobody else is allowed to touch you like this except for me." She whispers against your neck and bites down, marking you as hers. You nod desperately, holding onto her as tight as you can.

"Baby, I-I'm so close," you moan into her ear as her fingers work inside of you, and she smirks at the delightful whimpers that leave your lips.

"That's my good girl... let go detka. Tell them who you belong to," she says, forcing your head out of the crook of her neck. Her grip is strong in your hair, and your legs tremble around her. It's not long before you pathetically are moaning, "Wanda!" Into the kitchen, releasing onto her fingers, your panties now drenched.

Wanda takes all you have and removes her fingers from inside you, slipping them into her mouth. Her eyes burn red at the taste, and she pulls you into a heated kiss, making you taste yourself on her tongue.

You pull back to catch your breath, letting your head hit her shoulder hard. She chuckles at how cute you were and wraps her arms around you, you do the same. The two of you hold each other for a moment as you sit on the counter still.

"I'm sorry, for saying what I said..." Wanda says, her voice soft. Your fingers move in circles on her back.

"I know... I'm sorry, too. I promise there's nothing going on between us. I love you so much." You kiss her jaw, and she smiles.

"I don't hate everyone, you know," she jokes, lightening the mood. "I especially love you."

You can't help but laugh, pulling back to see the now playful look on her face. Wandas soft spot for you made your chest swell, you loved how different she treated you.

"You only love me," you giggle and kiss her nose. She groans and rolls her eyes.

"Fine, you're right," she chuckles and leans forward to give you a sweet kiss.

A noise from behind you pulls you from her kiss, you see Bucky standing in the doorway clearing his throat. You hop off the counter, feeling Wandas arm wrapp protectively around your waist.

"Forgot my phone," he says with a hint of pink on his cheeks and points to the phone next to you. You watch as the phone glows red, and it's suddenly floating in the air towards him. He catches it as it drops in front of him.

You turn to Wanda, watching her eyes return to green with an unbothered look on her face.

"You know, you kinda really scare me. I like it," Bucky says to Wanda, a smile taking over his face. You groan and put a hand over your face. Wanda can't help the smirk on her face, satisfied with herself as the man leaves with a wave.

"Happy?" You ask, turning to look at her satisfied smirk. You take her hand in yours, feeling the cool metal of her rings against your fingers.

"Very," she beams down at you, kissing your cheek.

#marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x fem!reader #civil war wanda #wanda in a skirt ahhhhh #scarletlizzard asks #thank you anon!!!

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dracowars · 1 year

Note

H!i i love your writing and i wanted to make a request can you do a draco x reader where they have a fight and then they sleep in diffrent rooms and the reader has a nightmare so she goes to dracos room and then just fluff <3

fighter | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x reader

word count: 1,2k

summary: where y/n and draco sleep in separate rooms due to an argument

a/n: i wrote this in one flow in the notes of my phone (i usually write on my laptop that's also why the " are different) and i don't know what happend, but i've never written something so fast. i hope it stays that way lmao enjoy <3 don't forget to reblog, it's so important!

warnings: angst, mentions of death

universe: harry potter

"I can't believe you are being serious right now!", you scream at Draco, physically retreating from him as you take a few steps back in your anger, anger about what he just told you. The atmosphere in his big dark bedroom in Malfoy Manor doesn't help the cold that is now surrounding you, neither does your light sleeping gown that you put on mere minutes ago to finally get some well deserved sleep. That is until you got into this stupid argument.

Your whole body trembles and you desperartely run your fingers through your hair, waiting for him to tell you that it was just a joke, that none of it is real.

"I knew you wouldn't understand", is the only thing that leaves Draco's mouth and if you had been a few more meters away, you would have probably missed his murmur. But you caught every word he said and it makes you even more furious.

"Oh, so you didn't even think about telling me that you want to take your father's place among the Dark Lord's entourage? The one of your father who is currently, if I may remind you, trapped in Azkaban?!", you say while fully realizing the impact of these words. Draco really wants to become a Death Eater and follow Voldemort as his faithful footman until he decides one day that he does not need him anymore either and puts him into the same prison his father is currently residing.

"See? That's why I preferred not to tell you because I knew you would react like this", Draco only sighs at your emotional outburst, rubbing his palms against each other as he looks at the dark wooden floor beneath your feet.

"So you now support the Dark Lord? Is that it?", you ask, now directly looking at him in utter disbelieve, ignoring his previous words. In your opinion, this is the only reasonable reaction when you are told your loved one wants to basically throw his life, and everything he has accomplished, away. And you are a huge part of that life which he would discard. Just like that.

"Y/N, you are missing my point!", Draco raises his voice now too, no longer being able to withstand the hurtful words you are throwing his way. "I need to do this, alright? It is none of your business anyway."

"N-None of my business?!", you stumble over your words, not believing your ears but one look at his face tells you that he is being deadly serious. For a moment, you hold in your breath and stare at him, looking into his eyes that seem to have darkened now.

"You know what? Alright, if it is your business and you want to follow in your father's steps, then I'm not needed here anymore", you say with a fake smile on your lips, passing him without looking at him again and leaving the room with fast steps. You do not listen when he calls after you, because if he really wanted to solve this, he would follow you. The fact that he does not, sends another dagger through your already suffering heart.

Standing in one of the cold hallways of Malfoy Manor, watched by the few family pictures that hang along the walls, you make your way to the next guest room where you plan on spending the night before being able to leave first thing in the morning.

You open the creaking door and enter the room, taking a look at the large bed with dark green bedding. Sighing, you let yourself fall onto the soft blanket in defeat and look at the panaled high ceiling.

The next moment, all the emotions come crushing down on you and you let your tears run free, crying into the soft bedsheets, grapping a fistful of it in your hand. You don't know how long you just lie there and cry bitterly, but when you suddenly jolt out of your sleep, drenched in sweat, it takes you a few seconds to realize where you are. The realization hits you painfully as you lean against the headboard, knees pulled towards your chest beneath the thick blanket and your hands trembling, pulling the safety of the fabric more towards you.

You thought you had already cried out all of your tears, but this terrible nightmare paralyzed your entire body and the tears streaming down your already puffed cheeks do not seem to stop. Trembling, you lower your forehead onto your knees, closing your eyes to dispose of those bad images, but they keep appearing in front of you. Crying into the blanket even harder, your mind comes up with the only plausible solution and before you know it, you find yourself standing in front of Draco's bedroom again, slowly opening the door.

With only your head poking in at first, you squint into the darkness, searching for any indications if Draco is asleep or not. When you only hear his soft breathing, you sneak towards your side of the bed and climb beneath the cold blanket as quiet as possible, trying to sniffle your tears.

Draco, however, senses that something is wrong and shifts in his sleep, turning onto his back. His hand slightly grazes yours and your breath gets stuck in your throat at the sensation. It only takes two more seconds until Draco opens his eyes, suddenly aware of the warm trembling body next to him.

Pushing onto his arms, he looks at you, confused, but once he hears your sobs, he takes you into his arms without any words, enveloping you in his warmth. Burrying your face in the crook of his neck, your crying grows even worse and you claw his shirt as if he could disappear any second.

"I-I was so scared, D-Draco", you stutter once you have caught your breath a bit more, holding your hands in front of your mouth to stop yourself from breaking down again. "Y-You were a Death Eater and they- they took you from me. H-He killed you, Draco."

Draco, who was busy wiping away your tears while listening, stops in his movement, his lips slightly parted in shock. In this moment, he hated himself for making you cry like this, for causing you such a horrible nightmare that you ended up thinking that you had lost him.

"He won't, Y/N. I promise", Draco whispers finally, not at all sure what he is supposed to say right now. On the one hand, he wants to make everything right again, but on the other hand he knows that he has responsibilites that he can't run away from.

"You can't promise me that", you sob, wiping away your tears by yourself now, your hands still a shaking mess.

"I'm so sorry, darling, but I have to follow him", he answers, his voice shaking as he softly takes your hands in his. "Otherwise he is going to kill me. But what is worse is that he is going to kill my family. He is going to kill you if I don't obey."

As he says these words and lets down his walls, you see a single tear running down his cheek, finding its way onto your intertwined hands below.

"We- We will find a way, baby", you try to assure him, squeezing his hand lightly. "You don't have to do this. We just need to fight. For us. For your family. For you."

"I will."

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punkitt-is-here · 11 months

Text

Frequently Asked Questions!

Heyo! I get a TON of asks each day, so I'm making this post so that folks know what's already been asked so my followers don't have to see the same stuff over and over, haha.

Hi! I'm Punkitt! I'm a game developer, artist, editor, director, and a bunch of other stuff! I'm working on an RPG called Astral Guard, a platformer called Susan Taxpayer, and I have a couple more fun projects in my pocket like Happup and Super Mario Death Row.

Why do you have so many hats? Do you know you have that many hats?

ye i like hats. :) free tumblr badges for one pea i like one piece and took as many as i could. free.

Where can I find your art/game development/horsecomix?

Great question! Everything I make that's my own and not a reblog is under "my posts", every bit of art I do is under "my art", any game development I do is under "gamedev", you can find all my MLP art under "mlp, my art" or "horsecomix" for the best stuff. I also have an "animations" tag and a "shitposts" tab. I also properly tag all my asks to be asks and write out the asker's name, so if you don't wanna see those just mute the ask tag.

Do you have a Patreon or a Ko-Fi?

I do have a ko-fi here! I also JUST launched a Patreon, which you can find here :)

What do you use for your art?

I use FireAlpaca and Paint.net for misc. effects!

What are you using to make your games?

I use FireAlpaca do make my assets! Astral Guard, Happup, and any other top-down RPG games I make are all made in RPGMaker 2003. Susan Taxpayer is made in SMBX2 Beta 4, a Mario fangame engine with lua support!

Why are you using a 2-decade-plus engine to make games?

It's fun!

Do you have a sideblog or something for your art?

Not right now! What you see is what you get. I do have a sideblog for Astral Guard though, if you want to follow that game specifically! @astral-guard

Can I make an OC based on your work? ABSOLUTELY!!!!!!! THATS THE COOLEST THING EVER!!!! LET ME KNOW IF YOU DO!!!! I WANNA SEE!!!!

Can I do dubs/redraws of your comics? As long as you credit me! I get a ton of notifs each day, so if you wanna show me (and PLEASE i so do wanna see fun dubs and redraws!!!) tag me or DM me!

Can I use your art as a PFP? Sure! Just credit me somewhere. :D

Are you the one who trapped her coworkers in a room and made them listen to TF2 lore?

Yep! Everyone had a blast actually. :]

Did you make that comic where Fluttershy eats the weed brownie/Rainbow Dash has a male living space/someone has a cutie mark that says they'll kill Ronald Reagan?

Yep! That's me.

Where are you in MLP right now?

Currently just finished Season 7! Haven't watched the movie yet.

Have you watched Equestria Girls?

Yep! Thought it was super cute. I watched up to Rainbow Rocks and plan on watching more.

What's your opinion on MLP so far?

I love it! I think it's cute. I really don't agree that there was some sort of huge quality drop after season 2 or whatever.

What do you think of G5?

Not my style! I don't really like either animation types and it just seems like I'm not in the audience anymore. That's totally chill, but it just doesn't grab me!

Have you watched any other MLP stuff from previous generations?

Nope! But I did see a compilation called Minty Being Autistic for Six Minutes Straight that I loved. she's perfect.

Favorite pony?

Don't got one, I love all the Mane Six a LOT, but I'm particularly fond of Fluttershy, Applejack, and Rarity!

Favorite episode/season?

I'm so bad at picking favorites! But any season past Season 1 I have a blast with because I feel like it's just more my style. I don't have a favorite episode, but the most recent one I can remember LOVING is the one where Starlight bottles up her emotions because it was REALLY funny.

Do you like Pony.mov?

Nope! And stop saying my stuff reminds you of it, it's a lil annoying!

Have you watched the Mentally Advanced Series/Friendship is Witchcraft/Other fandom vids?

Probably not! My interaction with the MLP fandom prior to last year was pretty minimal, so I'm making my way through the show first!

What do you think of Fallout: Equestria?

I think it's super weird but really fun because of that. I've never properly read any of it but it's very fascinating to me.

Are you transgender?

Yep! I go by she/her, I'm a trans woman. Have been for many years, but I only recently came out online!

Are you a lesbian?

Nah, I'm bisexual!

Can I commission you?

Yeah! I only have my commissions available on my Ko-Fi at certain times though, so keep an eye out! I usually announce slots being open at least 12 hours beforehand. Slots are usually first come first serve, but we'll see.

Can I use your art as a Discord emote?

Yeah man i'm not scouring every discord on the planet to find stickers of my work. i think it owns if people take my stuff and make it stupid injoke emotes between friends that makes me very happy.

Can I send you an ask inquiring about gender dysphoria?

I feel like this is beyond my capabilities of advice! I'm actually very comfortable with my body and I have been for many years, so I don't know if I can give any good or helpful advice on that front. Apologies, but there are many resources out there where you can ask about those things if you look for them, like Discord channels!

Favorite Color?

I'm a sucker for blue!

Favorite coffee?

Can't drink coffee, my stomach is cringe.

Favorite tea?

I'm lame and can't drink most tea but I love this one orange-flavored tea a lot. I also LOVE ice tea.

Can I say you're horsegender/punkittgender/a little gender goblin void thing?

Well, I can't stop you, but I'm kind of beyond that phase now! I really am a boring ol' plain she/her girl, and I like it that way. It's not much, but it's honest gender.

What's your favorite game series?

Mother, Kingdom Hearts, Mario, and I USED to say Fallout, but I found out I'm really only a big Fallout New Vegas fan.

Favorite game from those?

Mother 3 is one of my fave games of all time! I love KHII, and I'm tied for SMB3 and SMW. Also Fallout New Vegas fucks hard.

Any other favs?

Bug Fables, SLARPG, and TF2!

Favorite Movie?

Everything Everywhere All At Once, no question.

Oh, are you going to college?

Yep! I'm a film/theater major.

Do you have a YouTube channel?

Yeah! Click right here for it, I stream there and upload footage of my games/animations/my film projects + other stuff.

What is that little orange creature I see?

That's bweenop, my little persona that I use when I'm feeling a little scrunkly.

Do you have a ponysona?

Yep! Her name is Star Magnolia, you can search her on the blog to see art of her.

When will Susan Taxpayer/Astral Guard/etc. be out?

No clue! I take things slow, that's just how I am.

How do you work on so many things at once?

I make small, satisfying amounts of progress! I never try to complete one giant thing all at once, I just like doing small bursts of fun stuff. I got ADHD, so I learn to work with it.

Did you know you look like Weird Al?

Im going to run you over with a clown car watch out

WHY do you work on so many things at once?

Fun! I like learning, I like making cool stuff, and I like showing it to people :)

Do you need any help with your projects?

Potentially! I'll probably put out a post asking for help if I need it.

If you could be a horse, would you?

You kidding me? Several ton beasts with the frailty of a sickly Victorian boy; my clumsy ass would never survive.

Are you some sort of...furry?

yeag

Why do you reblog so much?

Brother I LOVE posting. that's just how it is.

Fav music artists?

It changes literally ALL the time but I will recommend ANYTHING by Vylet Pony, its music is incredible and probably the reason I'm a weird niche microcelebrity now.

Why are you like this?

theater kid + having a lot of fun on the internet makes you a bit silly hehe hoo

SUSAN TAXPAYER QUESTIONS

Is it out? Not yet! But hopefully sometime in the next year. I dunno! I take things at my own pace and keep stuff fun. :)

What are you using to make it? SMBX2! It's a free fangame engine for Mario episodes, but it's incredibly versatile and has a wonderful community, so I decided to make Susan Taxpayer in it.

Is there a demo? You betcha! You can find it right here. I'll also probably put it up on my itch.io.

How do I install it? I made a post here about how to run the SAGE '23 demo!

#FAQ #my posts #punkitt FAQ #announcement

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reminiscingtonight · 6 months

Text

Sisters Know Best

Ana-Maria Crnogorčević x Wälti!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I may or may not have forgotten the Olympics was a thing. Oops

[WOSO Masterlist]

Consciousness comes to you slowly. Eyes gently fluttering open, your smile is automatic at both the feel and sight of your favorite person wrapped around you.

Ana’s face is peaceful and relaxed as she still remains fast asleep, arms securely locking you against her body.

You’ve missed this. Being able to fall asleep and wake up to Ana is something you took for granted until suddenly you weren’t able to do so anymore.

Her departure from Barcelona was unexpected, for both you and her. None of your teammates knew it was coming as well. A relationship that blossomed during the last half of your one year overlap at Barcelona was suddenly subjected to the distance between your club teams.

But the two of you made things work. Facetime dates were a regular occurrence, so were the trips to visit one another during short breaks of play. One and a half years after you began dating, your relationship is still going strong.

As much as you would have loved to stay trapped against Ana until she woke, eventually your bladder wins, urging you to find an escape to the bathroom. It takes a couple minutes, but eventually you wiggle your way to freedom without waking Ana.

After relieving yourself, you’re halfway between the bathroom and your bedroom when you notice the jacket hanging from the hook by the front door. The jacket that very much was not present when you and Ana got to the house earlier in the day.

Eyes wide, you have to remind yourself to stay calm.

A year and a half into dating, you’re already certain Ana’s the love of your life. But that doesn’t negate the fact that you’ve known her nearly almost all of your life. And of course you had no one but Lia to thank for that fact.

Ana’s been your sister’s best friend for as long as you could remember.

And that would be cool, everything would be 100% fine. Except… maybe Lia’s still unaware of your relationship.

Initially, the two of you kept it under wraps, not wanting Lia’s unwanted opinions to potentially interfere with whatever was happening between the two of you. But then as time moved on, as you and Ana settled down into a smooth relationship, separated from your sister by both a country and the English Channel, you didn’t feel the rush to disclose your relationship to her.

The stress of the world cup last year allowed your relationship to remain undetected during the off-season. Lia didn’t have the time or brainpower to focus on anything other than keeping your national team together and functioning under the direction of your head coach who could barely string a coherent play together.

But that was last year. And now, more than a year after you and Ana made things official, you still have not told Lia about your relationship. And with the beginning of this off-season, you’re about to spend the majority of two months together with no major tournaments to act as a distraction.

A part of you is really hoping you just missed the jacket when you arrived earlier, but the more logical side of your brain tells you you’re as fucked as you think you are.

Tip-toeing down the stairs, you pop your head around the corner into the kitchen.

Lia looks up from where she’s sat by the counter when you push the door open. You were already expecting to see her there, but you still can’t mask the surprise in your voice. “Lia? What are you-- You’re home!”

Your sister raises an amused eyebrow at the tone in your voice. “It’s great to see you too.”

Shaking yourself out of your shock, you lunge forward, letting Lia pull you into the comforts of her arms. “Missed you,” you grin, momentarily forgetting your girlfriend is fast asleep upstairs.

Though the thought quickly returns when Lia gestures towards the front door, hidden behind the wall. “I noticed you got new shoes?”

Paling, you remember the way you had to bribe Ana with kisses to neatly place her shoes next to yours by the rack.

“Yeah! I did a little bit of shopping in Barcelona before coming home,” is the first lie that passes through your mind, something you’re quick to voice.

“I can see that,” Lia chuckles, tugging at your unfamiliar but also so obviously worn down sweatshirt. It’s just your luck that you’re also wearing one of Ana’s sweatshirts right as this moment. You find yourself wanting to curse your girlfriend out. Dubbed Ana’s ‘favorite,’ this piece of clothing is your go-to for stealing. It just always smells like her and makes you feel safe, but safe is the last thing you feel as you are quick to nod again, lying that you did indeed get a new piece of clothing too.

The two of you chat about everything and nothing, making up for lost time. While you’re so obviously just trying to buy time as you try to come up with a way to either sneak Ana out of the house or come clean to Lia without facing her wrath, you come bask in the presence of your sister. You really have missed Lia.

After spending the majority of your career chasing Lia from club to club, you finally made your break away from her two seasons ago to Barcelona. Leaving Arsenal was hard, but you were ready for something new. And Lia was more than happy to support you.

Some time in between Lia praising how well the new Arsenal players have cemented their place on the team over the season and discussing which possible movie the two of you should go put on, Lia ducks under the cabinet to pull out the kettle, intent on making some tea. You use the brief moment of distraction to make your getaway.

“Oh shoot, I forgot my phone upstairs in my room. Do you mind waiting here for me while I quickly go get it?”

Lia chuckles, gesturing to stove. “Go for it. I won’t be joining you until our tea’s done.”

Your trainers at Barcelona would be proud of the speed to which you race out of the kitchen and then back up the stairs to your room.

To your delight, and horror, Ana’s already awake, sleepy smile sent your way when you shut the door behind you.

“Hi baby--”

“Lia’s home,” you whisper, cutting Ana off.

The blonde’s eyes grow in size as she bolts upright in your bed.

“What do you mean? I thought you said she wouldn’t be back until…” Ana’s words trail off when she flips over her phone and sees the time.

The two of you definitely napped for longer than you originally intended to.

“You’ve got to go. Lia’s about to hunker me down with a movie marathon. God knows how long you’ll be stuck here if you don’t try sneaking out now.”

Ana blinks. “How exactly are you going to sneak me out then?”

You point towards the window in your room. “I’ve snuck out of the house multiple times growing up. There’s a tree that you can climb out and get into the front yard from.”

Ana balks, looking at you as if you just grew three heads. “You want me to sneak out the window and climb down a tree?!”

You roll your eyes, pressing a sweet kiss against Ana’s panic-stricken face. “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe.”

Turning around, you head for your closest. After a bit of digging you finally pull out an old pair of tennis shoes.

“Here, wear these,” you whisper, shoving the shoes into Ana’s hands

Ana frowns, though she does as you say and slips on the offered shoes. “Why can’t I just wear mine?”

“Lia was asking me whose shoes they were and I said I got some new shoes in Barcelona.”

Ana shoots you a look that tells you she’s less than impressed with your white lie. “I better get those shoes back. They were expensive.”

You have to muffle your snort, both of you knowing very well the chances of you returning them would be close to 0. “I know, I was there when you bought them.”

Ana pinches your cheek for the sass, and you respond by giving her ass a little slap as she slips pass you towards the window.

Though she rolls her eyes, you can see the smile on her lips.

“If I break my neck before the international break I’m blaming you,” she mumbles, swinging her legs through the opening.

“Such a sweet-talker,” you shoot back, ignoring her huff of faux-annoyance. Instead, you lean in to press a light kiss against Ana’s lips.

“Call me?”

You nod. “As soon as Lia lets me go.”

With one last grin over her shoulder Ana shuffles fully out the window onto the roof. You only wait until you see Ana begin her descent before hurrying back down the stairs towards Lia.

The brunette’s already sitting in the living room, movie pulled up when you come skidding to a stop next to her. To your relief it seems as if Lia’s been engrossed in her phone the whole time you’ve been gone.

She looks up with a grin, lifting up a corner of her blanket for you.

“I’m thinking we can start with The Sorcerer’s Stone and make our way down from there.”

It isn’t until the sun’s long set and the two of you have switched to watching cooking shows for the past two hours that Lia rises with a yawn.

She pats your leg, stretching as she stands. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Sleepily nodding, you sink deeper into the blankets. “I’ll probably watch another episode or something before heading up,” you mumble, fully content with letting your sleepiness take over right here right now. Though your body would most likely hate you tomorrow when you wake, your bed on the second floor just seems so far away.

Lia doesn’t say anything else, giving you a gentle hum as she makes her way towards the light switch. Dimming the lights a bit, she watches with amusement as your eyes slowly flutter, trying, but failing, to keep yourself awake.

You’re two seconds from drifting off into a peaceful sleep when Lia speaks up, not having fully left the living room yet. Spoken over her shoulder almost as an afterthought, her parting words have you suddenly snapping wide awake.

“Next time Ana comes over let her know she can use the front door to enter and leave like a normal person.”

---

Closing the door as quietly behind her as she can, Lia pops her head over the wall separating the front door from the living room.

Her face falls into a frown when she doesn’t see you anywhere on the first floor.

You had texted your sister that you made it back to Switzerland only hours ago. Surely you haven’t already left the house without waiting to see her first?

Sighing, she toes off her shoes, not without noticing a new pair of shoes sitting by the shoe rack. You must have gone shopping or something, Lia muses before heading for the stairs.

There’s really only one other place you could possibly be if you were still in the house. Dropping her bag off in her room, Lia lightly skips towards your bedroom. It’s only been two months since you last saw each other in person, but you and Lia have always been extremely close, and paired with how her season ended, Lia just really wanted to see you.

Quietly cracking open your door, Lia pokes her head into your room.

The first thing she notices is how dark it is. The blinds in your room have been drawn, the only light filtering into the room being through the door she has opened.

It takes a couple seconds for Lia’s eyes to adjust, and when it finally does, she can’t stop her mouth from dropping open.

Well there you were, definitely not roaming the streets of your childhood town. But what she’s not expecting is the extremely familiar head of blonde hair tucked around you like a protective shield.

The shock quickly turns to affection as Lia smiles to herself at the adorable sight of you and Ana cuddled together in your sleep. Pulling her phone out to snap a quick picture of the two of you deep in sleep, Lia quietly closes the door behind her as she sets her sights for the kitchen.

Her sister and best friend? Together? Totally unexpected but Lia couldn't be more than happy for the two of you.

And when you sleepily stumble into the kitchen nearly an hour later, panic crossing your face at the sight of Lia already home, well who can blame Lia for having a bit of fun at your expense?

Especially when it means she gets to see Ana ungracefully scale the tree outside your bedroom window.

#ana maria crnogorcevic x reader #ana maria crnogorcevic imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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dioll · 9 days

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— yes to heaven ・ lhs 𐙚

. synopsis ・ after years, you still can’t get over your ex

⊹ ݁ ⋆ — 희승 x reader ・ genre. angst ・ warnings. depression loneliness breakups ・wc. 575 ݁𖥔. enhypen house

it’s been 2 years, 6 months, and 27 days.

‘i’m sorry y/n.. i just don’t feel the spark anymore. i can’t control my feelings.’

‘our memories will always remain in my heart. however, i can’t say the same about my love for you.’

‘goodbye y/n.’

since that day, his heart-wrenching words pierced your soul and was permanently engraved in your brain.

he was all you ever desired, you cursed yourself everyday for losing him.

ever since his departure, you’ve never been the same. your mental state being demolished. you feel empty. you don’t even know when was the last time you smiled.

as if he vacuumed the happiness out of you and left, but he was your sole happiness.

wounds being healed, only for it to be deepened in the end.

you’re invited to a friend’s wedding.

the memories of heeseung flashes through your mind.

it could’ve been you getting married.

‘i’ve got my mind on you.’ you whisper to yourself as soft tears absorb into the wedding-invite.

it’s your friend’s wedding today.

you actually put in effort to look presentable for the special event.

you’re wearing a sleeveless satin dress which is purple, heeseungs favourite colour.

he in fact, bought you the dress. constantly reminding you how purple enhanced your divine features.

your heart felt sore and your eyes dampened due to that memory.

you still loved him.

you loved him more than you loved yourself.

you loved him more than everything, and you know that you always will.

‘if you go, i’ll stay.’ you looked at yourself in the mirror and thought to yourself.

‘you come back, i’ll be right here.’ you watch as a single tear flows down your blush stained cheeks.

the wedding hall is flooded with elegant decor, making you feel like a princess in a palace.

you grab a pink lemonade from the rounded table. black bows being wrapped around the glasses. you admired the detail of the atmosphere.

the music grows louder as more people join the crowd to dance with their partners.

‘hi lovely, do you want to dance with me?’ a cutesy blonde girl by the name of minjeong politely asks you.

you were enchanted by her beauty and gracefulness. her puppy-like features and her welcoming smile made you feel warm.

you wholeheartedly accept her offer, and you have a wonderful time together.

minjeong excuses herself to take an important phone call.

you’re currently dancing alone when you notice a familiar face, none other than lee heeseung.

you’re staring at him as the music volume increases.

‘if you dance, i’ll dance.. and if you don’t, i’ll dance anyway.’

you watch as he dances with his new love, constantly kissing her face and giggling.

he’s happy.

he’s happy whilst you’re trapped in this never ending misery.

you knew that he was going to eventually find someone else to love, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop loving him.

‘i’ve got my eye on you.’

minjeong comes back to you, noticing the tears that’s streaming down your face.

she softly wipes your tears, pulling you into a comforting hug. a hug that you needed.

you can’t express your emotions. you don’t even know what you’re feeling.

‘it’s gonna be okay, dove. i’m here for you.’ minjeong tells you, as she caresses you.

‘give peace a chance.’

you may have lost the love of your life, but atleast you found a supporter along this dreadful journey,

kim minjeong.

enhouse residents: @copyhanni @wonifullove @flwrstqr @cupidhoons @cholexc

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its-not-a-pen · 10 months

Text

[餘智傳] The 2nd Century Warlord (Part 2)

based on the story by @romanceyourdemons

Read part 1

ninth day as a second century warlord i try to tactfully ask my fake liege lord if he sent the assassin to kill my loser liege lord and it turns out the idea of using assassins never occurred to him, but now that i’ve suggested it he’s really into it. in order to save my loser liege lord i volunteer to be the one to kill him

tenth day as a second century warlord on my way back to my loser liege lord’s city i realize i won’t be able to collect my men from my fake liege lord until i bring back my loser liege lord’s head. this would have been a great thing to think of before i got myself in this situation. i go back to my loser liege lord and ask him to rescue my men, and he tells me that if he could sack my fake liege lord’s camp he already would have. that doesn’t change the fact that my men are still trapped. they’re prisoners, even. i go back to my room to sulk

eleventh day as a second century warlord i find a little caged pigeon in the rafters of my loser liege lord’s room and deduce it belonged to the assassin. without asking permission or telling my loser liege lord goodbye i let the pigeon loose and follow it north. don’t ask what i was doing in my loser liege lord’s room. it’s not important

twelfth day as a second century warlord i disguise myself as a wizard and enter the camp of the coalition leader the pigeon led me to. in the middle of my little sleight of hand performance i make eye contact with the coalition leader’s second-in-command. IT’S THE WIZARD THAT STOLE MY LOSER LIEGE LORD’S WIFE. after the banquet i corner the fake wizard and ask him what the fuck is going on and he just says “wouldn’t you like to know” and leaves. i don’t know what to say to that so i just let him go

thirteenth day as a second century warlord i’m honestly so sick of not knowing what’s going on, so i adjust my wizard costume to passably disguise myself as a woman and break into the women’s area of the camp, where sure enough my loser liege lord’s wife is. i ask her what she’s doing here and she tells me the fake wizard overheard her singing a poem she overheard on the street, not knowing it contains the coalition leader’s formation’s weaknesses. the fake wizard kidnapped her and assigned an assassin to kill her husband before they figured out the poem’s significance. she shares the first couplet with me but i’m discovered and thrown out before she can share any more. she doesn’t need to. through a bizarre coincidence of homophones, it’s the poop version of my misinformation nursery rhyme

fourteenth day as a second century warlord i go back to my loser liege lord and tell him everything, urging him to join with my fake liege lord to attack the coalition leader according to the weaknesses in the nursery rhyme. he tells me frankly that he doesn’t trust me anymore. i ask him to execute me if that’s really true, because i can’t bear to live if i can’t protect him and i can’t protect my men. he agrees to attack the coalition leader

fifteenth day as a second century warlord. due to the information in the nursery rhyme, and thanks to my loser liege lord reminding me of the weather conditions multiple times while planning our battle strategy, our alliance carries the day. my loser liege lord gets his wife back. my men tell me that our fake liege lord actually treated them really well and they’d like to stay with him if i don’t mind. i do mind, now that neither the men i love nor the man i love have any use for me, but i don’t tell them that

sixteenth day as a second century warlord i’m preparing to leave to i don’t know where, maybe to try to become a wizard for real, when my loser liege lord stops me and asks me where i’m going. he says he had hoped i would continue to work as his advisor. i was unaware i was his advisor in the first place. i agree, and he tells me he’s truly honored to have me in his service at last. he has known i am a rare and talented man with a strategic intelligence far above his ever since the day he witnessed me tying branches to my horses’ tails in six inches of mud, and could not for the life of him figure out why

The end.

Thanks for reading! Notes under the cut

CORRECTION#1: the warlord's courtesy name was incorrectly written as Yú zhī 餘知 [plentiful knowledge]. my dumbass did not realise zhī 知 [to know] is a GOD DAMN VERB. It should be zhì 智 [wisdom].

CORRECTION#2: the clothes from part one are from the WRONG DYNASTY!!! BY 1200 YEARS!!!! it's meant to be HAN not MING.

#9 Misreading the standards: Loser Liege's name is Yue, so I decided to go with Lè/Yuè 樂 [optimistic/music]. I made the Chad Liege's name Cháo 巢 [nest] which is pronounced identically to Cáo 曹, the infamous IRL warlord. Just like his IRL counterpart, he is the affable, lawful-evil boss who is kind to his employees. I went ALL OUT designing Lord Chad Chao's outfit. He's got so much drip the yangtze river is about to break its banks. Now THAT'S a main character!

#10 Wardrobe Malfunction: the soldiers are now wearing clothes from the correct dynasty. i even gave them grass sandals! I really wanted to show how utterly outclassed they are, this is the difference between a peasant militia and a professional army. (They're in the exact same poses as part 1, except more terrified).

#11 mountain-water art: man i love doing traditional style backgrounds, the white space is very pleasing. Does it make sense to camp your coalition out in the mountains? No. Is it cool? Hella.

#12 you're a wizard, hairy: my favourite detail is the pigeon from day 11 sitting on the warlord's hat. I had to cut SO MUCH from this scene because there wasn't room. There was going to be musicians, jesters and strongmen. (Based of funerary figures)

I wanted to make it clear that the Coalition Liege is the richest guy of all, but he is all style and no substance. He's got an army of dancing girls and drunk officers. You get the feeling that his Chief Strategist aka Fake Wizard aka Zhuge Liang Knockoff, disproves.

#13 Hua Mulan: RIP the Warlord's beautiful beard ;n; He's wearing one of the dancing girl's outfits and I like to think the ladies helped him do his makeup too. I wanted to add a little character moment for the Wife and Warlord. They're holding hands which is not strictly proper, but I wanted to show the intensity of the emotions.

#14 the supplicant: I really like the framing here, I wanted both faces to be visible so we can see what they're thinking.

#15 enemy of my enemy: the Warlord is finally in command and flying his standard Huáng 黃 [yellow]. He is wearing a wu guan with two pheasant feathers, for a high ranking military official.

#16 the romantic subplot: the Warlord and his Loser are tenderly holding hands while the Wife and Noble Steed looks on with approval. I wanted the handholding to be slightly awkward and kinda spontaneous, like they were both aiming for a manly, platonic hand-clasp but veered wildly off-course into homoeroticism. In the background, an oblivious Lord Chad is showing off the little wooden horse one of his new soldiers gave him (that guy's been carving it since part 1, it's high time we acknowledged his hard work).

Want to learn more about the (mostly) true story that inspired this post? Check out Romance of the Three Kingdoms! TV show, the book and the movie Red Cliff,

#second century warlord #han dynasty #romance of the three kingdoms #history #thanks for reading guys i had a blast drawing this

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shanastoryteller · 2 months

Note

Happy Valentine's Day, Shana!

Can we get more from F is for Frankenstein? Or more 3 faced Goddess? (More of the Iron Man stuff basically. I don't even really go there anymore, but your writing is so great)

a continuations of 1 2 3 4

The thing is, Rhodey would actually prefer it if Tony didn’t come for them, if he didn’t risk his life by walking into what is so obviously a trap meant to kill him, even if it meant both he and Steve died instead.

Morgan is a child still, far from ready to take the throne, and Pepper would manage but at the end of the day this country needs its king – need Tony, not only doing the work that he is to win this war, but as a son of Stark, as a member of the family that’s ruled for over a millennia. Even to those that believe the worst rumors about Tony, his presence on the throne is still a comfort, still a sign that the Goddess hasn’t forsaken them. Morgan won’t be viewed the same. She’s too young.

At the end of the day, he and Steve are just soldiers. They’re far more replaceable.

Beyond that, these are the people that made Tony swallow a star. They don’t know he’s the Iron Mage, but they probably assume that the Iron Mage is going to be nearby anyway, and are preparing for it. Which means Tony will have the element of surprise going for him

But when he was nineteen, Tony kissed him under a peach tree, tasting of the fruit they’d shared, and neither of them have looked back since.

When the situations had been reversed, Rhodey hadn’t given up, hadn’t stopped looking, and if they’d offered him an invitation like they’re offering Tony, he would have taken it regardless of the danger. And he’d like to say he did all that for his king, but he wouldn’t have gone to nearly as much effort for Greg, for Howard.

He did it because it was Tony.

And not an ounce of logic or sense is going to keep Tony from doing the same.

Not that there’ll be any. Pepper probably didn’t even hesitate, he thinks fondly. They’ve been friends and partners too long. He’d tell Tony to go after Pepper too, even while wishing he wouldn’t come after him now.

“Why are you smiling?” Steve asks warily.

Rhodey rolls his head to the side. Steve is eight years younger than him, six years younger than Tony, and most of the time Rhodey doesn’t notice the difference. He’s seen more war than Rhodey has, after all, and has some mannerisms that remind him of his grandfather. He ages slowly, thanks to the sorcerer’s enchantment, but enough people have spelled themselves with a false youth that it’s not jarring enough to be noteworthy.

Right now, he looks even younger than he is, tired and wary. Rhodey would have thought his resignation would make him look older, but instead if brings to mind every child that’s found themselves trapped on the battlefield.

“It’s going to be alright,” he says gently. “He’ll come.”

Steve grimaces and looks away. “Even if he does. They might just kill us anyway.”

They might, but their sorcerers are skilled enough to read the enchantments tangled on top of both of them. Tony would know if Rhodey was dead. They performed that spell long before Tony ever sat on the throne. Which means they’ll keep them alive at least long enough for Tony to see them, which is probably all the time he’ll need.

But that’s nothing he can say to Steve, nothing he’ll understand when he doesn’t know the king is Edward and the Iron Mage both, so he tilts to the side until their shoulders are pressed together and hopes Steve finds comfort in that.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #lostangelssong #avengers

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pucksandpower · 9 months

Text

Gilded Cage

Charles Leclerc x heiress!Reader

Summary: when a girl who craves for freedom meets a boy who knows what it feels like to race at the speed of light

Warnings: overprotective (but loving) father

The first time you tried to escape, you were seven.

“Y/N, let go of the bird!” The nanny’s frantic voice echoed as your small fingers clutched the delicate cage, trying to unlatch it.

“I just want to see it fly!” You cried, tears streaming down your face, looking at the trapped canary. Its golden feathers seemed dulled, its tiny beak opened in a silent plea for freedom.

The cage slipped from your grasp, crashing onto the pristine marble floors. The sound was deafening in the otherwise quiet mansion. Your nanny rushed forward but not before the canary took off, its wings catching the sun, radiating a blinding brightness.

You watched, mesmerized, as the bird soared above, circling once before disappearing into the vast blue sky.

“It’s gone …” your nanny muttered, distraught at the loss of such a valuable creature.

But you, young and innocent, whispered with a smile of pure joy, “It’s free.”

From that day on, you knew one thing for certain: no amount of gold or jewels could substitute for the glitter of freedom.

***

“Again!”

The shout echoes through the cavernous halls of your palatial home. Somewhere outside, the splashing of the water from the elaborate marble fountain merges with the faint humming of gardeners trimming the intricate mazes. The walls, lined with gold-trimmed tapestries and priceless paintings, feel more like prison bars than luxuries.

"Again!"

Your fingers, stiff and aching, try to mimic the piano instructor’s exact movements. Every wrong note feels like a physical blow, another reminder that you are trapped in a world of perfection and expectations.

“I don’t want to play anymore,” you whisper but it came out stronger, more defiant than you intended.

Madame Lucille, your instructor, raises an eyebrow, unaccustomed to your resistance. “Your father wishes you to be well-versed in the classics,” she reminds you with a patronizing tone.

A voice, deep and commanding, interrupts the tension, “Let her be, Lucille.”

Your father stands at the doorway, his expensive suit impeccably tailored, matching the stern look on his face.

“But Sir, she—”

“I said, let her be.”

Madame Lucille gives you one last disapproving glare before hurriedly packing her things. Your father watches her go then turnes to you with softer eyes. “I just want the best for you,” he murmurs, walking over to sit beside you on the grand piano bench.

You take a deep breath, “I know, Papa. But I want to breathe, to live. Not just exist inside these walls.”

He sighs, looking tired. “The world out there isn’t a nice one. There are those who would want to harm you, to use you.”

“I would risk it,” you admit quietly, “For a taste of real life. For a moment outside this golden cage.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re my everything. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

The weight of his love and the prison of his protection bears down on you. “One day, whether you like it or not, I’ll have to face the world. And when that day comes, I want to be ready.”

He leans back, looking up at the ornate chandelier. “What if that day was sooner than you thought?”

Confusion marrs your features. “What do you mean?”

He smiles cryptically, “There’s a Formula 1 race across the country next week. I sponsor Ferrari. Thought you might like to come with me, see something different for a change.”

You blink, taking a moment to process. “A ... race?”

He nods, “Yes. It’s not freedom but it’s a start.”

You look into his eyes, seeing a glimmer of understanding. “Okay,” you whisper, “Let’s start there.”

***

“The roar of the engines, the energy of the crowd ... there’s quite nothing like it,” your father begins, his usually stern voice tinted with boyish enthusiasm. You find yourself watching him, intrigued by this rare display of passion.

Sitting across the opulent dining table, which was rarely used to host anyone but the two of you, you play with your food, pushing it around the plate. “Cars going in circles? I don’t see the appeal.”

He chuckles, taking a sip of his vintage wine. “Oh, it’s much more than that. The strategy, the risk, the sheer speed ... it’s ballet at 300 kilometers per hour.”

You raise an eyebrow, interest piqued despite yourself. “Ballet? Really?”

He nods with a smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re not curious now?”

You hesitate. “I mean, maybe a little? But why the sudden interest in taking me? I’ve never even seen you watch a race.”

He leans forward, his gaze intense, searching yours. “I sponsor Ferrari and have an open invite to every race. Now that one will be hosted nearby, I thought maybe it’s time you see a bit more of the world. Not just through the glass windows.”

You blink in surprise. This was unexpected. “A public event? With crowds and other people?”

He nods slowly. “With crowds and other people.”

You weigh the options in your mind, the yearning for freedom battling with the anxiety of exposure. “And you think I’m ready for this?”

He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing yours. “I think we’re ready for this. It will be an unforgettable experience, I promise.”

You look into his eyes and realize that this is as much a leap for him as it is for you. Taking a deep breath, you reply, “Alright, Papa. Let’s go watch some ballet.”

***

“The red ... it’s everywhere.” You can’t help but blurt out, momentarily overwhelmed.

Your father chuckles beside you. “Well, it is Ferrari. Red is their signature.”

You gaze down, the red soles of your Louboutins now seem almost camouflaged against the vibrant Ferrari decor. “Feels like I’m stepping into another world.”

“Just stay close,” your father advises, his protective instincts rearing up again.

Promising him with a nod, you’re soon lost in the kaleidoscope of sounds and colors. The hustle of engineers, the chatter of excited fans, the roar of engines being worked on.

Suddenly, a man clad in a racing suit accidentally bumps into you, causing your drink to splatter.

“Mon dieu! I am so sorry!” He exclaims, eyes wide.

You find yourself staring not at the stained dress but into the most expressive eyes you’ve ever seen. “It’s ... it’s okay,” you stutter, taken aback by the unexpected jolt of electricity at the brief contact.

He looks genuinely apologetic. “Let me make it up to you? Another drink, perhaps?”

You laugh, “Only if you promise not to spill it.”

He grins, the smile reaching his eyes. “Deal. I’m Charles, by the way.”

Hesitating for a split second, you reply, “Y/N.”

He raises an eyebrow, “No last name?”

You smirk, “Not today.”

Charles chuckles, intrigued. “Alright, Y/N-with-no-last-name, let’s get you that drink.”

You follow him, weaving through the crowd. Every now and then, someone stops Charles to shake his hand or pat him on the back, throwing in a “Good luck, Charles!” or “Can’t wait to see you on the track!” He greets everyone with a genuine smile and a word of thanks. It’s clear just how loved he is here.

However, you remain a mystery to him. He sneaks curious glances your way, the playful teasing evident in his eyes. “So are you a big Ferrari fan or just here because you look particularly fetching in red?”

You laugh, the sound more carefree than you’ve felt in ages. “Let’s just say I’m here to explore something ... different.”

Charles nods, handing you a fresh glass from the bar. The bubbling champagne mirrors the effervescence you feel inside. “Different can be good,” he muses, taking a sip from his own plastic water bottle. “Sometimes it’s the unexpected moments that change everything.”

The weight of his gaze, the intensity of the moment, makes your heart race. “Tell me, Charles,” you begin, leaning in slightly, “What was the unexpected moment that changed everything for you?”

He looks taken aback, clearly not expecting such a question. He takes a thoughtful pause, “Every time I get behind the wheel. Each race is a new story, an unexpected twist waiting to happen.”

You nod, appreciating his sincerity. “It’s brave, you know. Facing the unexpected at such high speeds.”

He smiles warmly. “It’s not bravery, it’s passion. When you love something deeply, risks become challenges instead of threats.”

Your fingers toy with the stem of your glass, his words resonating with your own yearning for freedom. “I envy that,” you admit softly.

Charles tilts his head, studying you. “Why?”

You search for the right words. “I’ve lived in a world of certainty for so long. Every step planned, every move calculated. It’s ... suffocating.”

Charles reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “Then maybe it’s time to take a risk, Y/N-with-no-last-name. Even just a small one.”

You smile, the promise of the unknown beckoning. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time.”

***

“Do you trust me?” Charles’ eyes search yours, intense under the paddock lights.

You blink, taken aback by the sudden question. “We just met.”

He grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “That’s not an answer.”

Drawing in a deep breath, you reply, “I might. What are you proposing?”

His gaze drifts momentarily to the track. “After qualifying … how about a drive? Not here,” he adds, seeing your hesitation, “Away from all this. The city at night, the open road. Just two people and the world.”

You tilt your head, contemplating the offer. A spark of excitement ignites within you. “A midnight drive with a stranger? Sounds reckless.”

He chuckles, leaning in closer. The scent of leather and adrenaline wraps around you. “Life’s best moments usually are.”

As his name is called by his press officer, Charles straightens up. “I have to go. But think about it, Y/N-with-no-last-name. The invitation stands.”

Before you can respond, he jots down something on a piece of paper and hands it to you. An address. “Meet me here if you’re in. Midnight.”

You watch him stride confidently towards his garage, the weight of the decision pressing on you. Risk, freedom, the open road — its all you’ve always yearned for.

Hours later, as Charles places his car on pole, you find yourself gripping that piece of paper. The thought of the city lights and the wind through your hair is too alluring to resist.

You whisper to yourself, “Midnight it is.”

***

The ornate curtains rustle as you inch your way onto the balcony of your suite. The sheer drop below sends a thrilling chill down your spine. You’ve never snuck out before but the thought of the night ahead and Charles’ invitation propels you forward. You hitch up your dress, carefully lowering yourself onto the ledge below. The soft grass cushions your landing and you take a moment to steady your racing heart.

“You’re even crazier than I am,” a familiar voice observes from the shadows.

You whirl around, finding Charles leaning against his car, an impressed grin on his face. “I had to make a discreet exit,” you explain, cheeks warming.

He chuckles, pushing away from the car and walking over to you. “Glad you made it. Ready for our adventure?”

You nod, the proximity of him, the thrill of the night, everything heightening your senses. “More than ever.”

The car roars to life as you both settle in. The city lights blur past, the nocturnal beauty of the world unfolding around you. The road beckons, the possibilities endless.

Charles casts a sidelong glance at you, a playful smirk on his lips. “Ever driven with no speed limit?”

You laugh, “Not in my daily commute.”

He grins, “There’s a first time for everything.”

The car accelerates, the wind whipping through your hair, the night alive with potential. The city skyline fades, replaced by an open stretch of road, illuminated only by the car’s headlights and the soft glow of the moon.

Charles’ voice breaks the comfortable silence. “There’s something freeing about the night. The world sleeps, and for a few hours, you can pretend you’re the only ones alive.”

You glance over, sensing the depth of emotion behind his words. “Is this why you race? For that freedom?”

He nods, his profile bathed in moonlight. “And more. Every time I’m behind the wheel, it’s a battle against my doubts, the world, and myself.”

You understand, the weight of your own gilded cage pressing on you. “I’ve been trapped for so long. But tonight, with you, I feel … alive.”

He reaches over, entwining his fingers with yours. “Then let’s live. For tonight, let’s forget the world.”

***

“Why are those men watching us?” Charles’ voice is low, almost a whisper, as he subtly gestures towards two figures in dark suits, positioned at opposite sides of the bar you found yourselves at.

You follow his gaze discreetly, feeling a familiar dread settling in. Security. Your father’s men. “They’re ... they’re just protective, that’s all.”

Charles narrows his eyes, piecing things together. “Protective? Y/N, who are you really?”

A pang of guilt washes over you. You had hoped for more time before this moment, more stolen moments under the veil of anonymity. “It’s complicated,” you admit, hesitating.

He leans forward, his intense eyes searching yours. “Try me.”

You take a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. “My life ... it’s not what it seems. I live in a gilded cage. A cage built by my father’s wealth and influence. A beautiful cage, yes, but a cage nonetheless.”

He processes this, watching as one of the security approaches your table, handing you a phone. “Your father wishes to speak with you,” the man says tersely.

Charles’ gaze sharpens, suspicion evident. “Your father?”

You nod, taking the phone with a sigh. “Hello, Papa.”

“Y/N,” your father’s voice is a mix of relief and sternness, “I’ve been so worried. You just disappeared.”

“I needed some time,” you explain, glancing apologetically at Charles who is watching the exchange closely.

“You should come back now.”

“I’m not a child anymore,” you argue gently, “I need to live my life.”

A heavy silence follows. “Just ... be safe,” he finally murmurs.

Hanging up, you face Charles, the weight of the world pressing on you. “I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner.”

Charles leans back, his expression unreadable. “So, the mysterious Y/N-with-no-last-name turns out to be the daughter of …?”

You sigh, “A very wealthy and overprotective man.”

He processes this, the playful teasing from before replaced by deep contemplation. “You know, secrets have a way of catching up with us. But,” he adds with a hint of a smile, “I’m interested in who you are, not your family name.”

You smile, relief washing over you. “Then let’s leave the secrets for another day.”

***

The morning sun paints the Ferrari garage in a wash of golden hues, every glinting reflection a dance of radiant red. Charles stands out despite wearing the same color as he eagerly waves you over to show off the helmet in his hands.

“It’s beautiful.” Your fingers trace the lines of the design, the light catching on its glossy finish.

Charles spins the helmet so you can see every detail. “Not just the design. It’s the weight, the feel. When I put this on, I’m stepping into another world. Everything else fades away. Just the track, the car, and me.”

You smile, fascinated by his passion. But as your gaze slides over the helmet, you freeze. There, emblazoned on the side, is the unmistakable logo of Y/L/N Industries. You try to hide your surprise but Charles catches your reaction. “You recognize the logo?”

Swallowing hard, you nod. “It’s … everywhere, isn’t it?”

Charles, not picking up on your unease, grins. “Oh yes. They’re our main sponsors this season. Y/L/N Industries is massive.”

Your heart thuds. Every mention, every hint, makes the looming truth harder to avoid. “They seem ... impressive.”

You avoid his gaze, watching the mechanics prepare the cars for the race. Each Ferrari, shining in the morning sun, proudly displays the same Y/L/N Industries logo. There’s no escaping it.

Noticing your distraction, Charles follows your gaze. “I’ve always found it fascinating. How brands link up with teams. How they can become synonymous with each other over the years. Like what we had with Marlboro and now Y/L/N Industries. It’s ... an alliance.”

You chuckle, trying to deflect. “An expensive alliance.”

He laughs, “Very true. But Y/L/N Industries is more than just a name on our cars. I met the owner once, at a sponsorship event. Very ... protective of his interests.”

You gulp, feeling cornered. “Is that so?”

Charles nods, oblivious to your discomfort. “Yes. Has a daughter too, I’ve heard. But she’s kept away from the limelight. Must be hard, living under such a powerful shadow.”

Your voice is barely a whisper, “You have no idea.”

He looks at you, sensing the weight behind your words. “Y/N?”

Taking a deep breath, you finally admit, “My last name ... it’s Y/L/N.”

He stares, processing the revelation. The playful driver you spent the past days with is replaced by someone more cautious, more guarded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You look down, fighting back tears. “I wanted to be just Y/N, not a Y/L/N. I wanted freedom, even if just for a few days.”

Charles reaches out, lifting your chin gently. “You're still Y/N to me. But secrets ... they complicate things.”

You nod, regret clear in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He smiles, though it’s not quite as bright as usual. “Let’s focus on today. The race. We’ll figure the rest out later.”

***

You’re startled from your thoughts when the doors to your room burst open, the journal in which you’ve been scribbling memories of your secret meetings with Charles slipping from your fingers.

Your father stands there, a mixture of anger and desperation etching his features. In his hand, he holds a photograph — one of you and Charles lost in conversation in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

“Explain this,” he demands, voice shaking.

You swallow hard, the weight of your secret outings pressing down on you. “Papa, I—”

He cuts you off, waving the photograph. “Weeks, Y/N! Weeks you’ve been sneaking around, meeting him. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Your voice trembles, “I just want something for myself, something real.”

He looks torn, battling between his desire to protect you and understanding your need for freedom. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” you hesitate, taking a deep breath, “I want to be just Y/N for once, not Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Don’t you see? That’s exactly why I protect you! The world will never see just Y/N. They will always see a Y/L/N and they will always want something from you.”

“You can’t keep doing this!” The words burst out of you before you can stop them, the pent-up frustration, fear, and yearning for freedom all culminating in this very moment.

Your father stands at the opposite end of the lavish living room, the city skyline a muted backdrop behind him. His eyes, usually so authoritative, are wide with surprise and concern. “I am only looking out for you.”

You shake your head, your voice trembling. “Looking out for me or controlling me?”

He flinches as if you physically struck him. “I want to keep you safe.”

Safe. The word hangs heavily between you, a reminder of the invisible chains binding you. “At what cost, Papa? My happiness? My freedom?”

He sighs, running a hand through his graying hair. “It’s not that simple.”

You pace the room, your emotions spilling over. “Do you even realize? Every choice, every decision has been made for me. Who I meet, where I go, even what I feel. I am suffocating!”

He looks pained. “I never meant to—”

“But you did!” You interject, tears streaming down your face. “Every time you made a choice for me, you took away a piece of my life.”

A heavy silence settles between you two, the unspoken words and regrets creating an impenetrable barrier.

Finally, your father speaks, his voice soft and filled with sorrow. “I lost your mother. I can’t bear the thought of losing you too.”

Your heart aches, understanding and resentment warring within. “I’m not Mama. I need to live, make mistakes, find love. I need to be free.”

He closes his eyes tightly, the weight of your words pressing down on him. “I just ... I love you so much.”

You walk over, taking his hands in yours, feeling the roughness of age and experience. “And I love you. But love isn’t about possession. It’s about understanding, trust, and letting go.”

Tears brim his eyes, the facade of the powerful businessman crumbling. “You will always be my little girl. I would give up every dollar — everything — if it meant keeping you safe. I’m scared that one day I won’t be able to protect you.”

You squeeze his hands. “We have to face our fears. Together.”

***

“He knows. Papa knows about us.” Your voice wavers as you meet in your secret hideaway, a small bakery tucked away from prying eyes.

Charles’ face pales, his fingers gripping the table edge. “How did he react?”

You draw in a shuddering breath, recalling the confrontation. “Not well. He feels... betrayed. I think I got through to him eventually but you never know with him. One second he’s smiling at a business rival and the next he’s snatching away their company in a hostile takeover.”

Charles’ eyes darken with concern. “I don’t want you caught in the crossfire between me and Y/L/N Industries.”

You shake your head, reaching out to touch his hand. “This isn’t about sponsorships or racing. This is about us. He’s just overprotective.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples. “This complicates things. Your father’s influence runs deep, even in the racing world.”

Tears sting your eyes. “So what? Are you saying we should …?”

“No,” Charles interjects firmly, squeezing your hand. “I’m saying we need to be careful. I won’t let anything harm you.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “My father would never hurt me … at least not physically. It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you.”

He smirks, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I do have a penchant for driving really fast cars. Comes with a touch of danger.”

You’re not amused. “This is serious. Papa can be ... vindictive.”

Charles looks deep into your eyes. “Then we face this together. Secrets have kept us apart but now, truth will keep us together.”

You lean in, your foreheads touching. “Promise?”

He smiles, capturing your lips in a kiss. “Promise.”

***

A reporter leans forward, her voice crackling with excitement. “Charles, you just secured a stunning victory for Ferrari in a race that almost everyone thought was Red Bull’s to lose. How does it feel to come out on top?”

Charles grins, his eyes alive with a fire that burns brighter than ever. “Honestly, it’s hard to describe. We’ve been pushing ourselves, refining the car, and today, everything just clicked. The team’s effort, the car’s performance, it all paid off.”

The crowd cheers, their elation echoing through the broadcast. The reporter presses on, “You dedicated this win to someone special. Care to tell us who?”

Charles’ gaze softens, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “There’s someone who has shown me a world beyond the track. Someone who made me realize that the freedom I feel whenever I get behind the wheel is even more precious than I always thought. This win is for her.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd, the identity of this mysterious someone a topic of speculation. The reporter smiles, clearly eager for more details. “And can you give us a hint? Is she here today?”

Charles chuckles, his dimples popping through. “Let’s just say she’s closer than you might think.”

Later, as the celebrations continue, you find yourself in a secluded corner of the motorhome, away from the clamor of the team and fans. Charles walks over, that same victorious smile on his lips. “Did you hear?”

You nod, heart still racing. “You dedicated the win to me.”

He steps closer, his hand cupping your cheek. “Of course. You’ve given me one more reason to keep pushing, keep racing. It’s not just about the cars. It’s about the freedom, the moments we steal away from the world.”

Tears well up in your eyes and you kiss him passionately, pouring all your emotions into that single moment. The crowd may not know the truth behind his dedication yet but you do. And that’s all that matters.

***

“Charles seems ... different than the others,” your father begins, his gaze distant as he looks out from the penthouse balcony.

You step closer, the night air cool against your skin. “Different how?”

He sighs, turning to face you, vulnerability evident in his eyes. “He looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. He looks at you how I used to look at your mother.”

You smile, “I never expected you to notice.”

He chuckles softly. “Just because I’m protective doesn’t mean I’m blind. I’ve watched people all my life. It’s how I built everything,” he gestures towards the sprawling city below, the twinkling lights of his corporate empire.

The weight of the moment settles between you, the years of misunderstandings and unspoken words pressing down. “Papa, I know you’re scared. Scared of the world out there, of what it might do. But I can’t be trapped forever.”

His expression softens, pain evident. “I have seen so much, faced so many betrayals. The world is rarely kind.”

You reach out, touching his arm gently. “I understand. But holding on too tight will only push me away.”

He closes his eyes, taking a shaky breath. “It’s just ... hard. Watching you grow, wanting to spread your wings. I wish I could shield you from everything.”

You smile gently. “But then I wouldn’t truly be living. Charles, he’s shown me a world beyond these walls. A world that’s unpredictable, thrilling, and real.”

Your father nods slowly. “I saw that. The way he stood by you, the way he spoke of you. He … he loves you.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the night’s chill deepening. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Someone who sees me, not my last name, not a walking dollar sign.”

He steps closer, pulling you into a comforting embrace. “I’m trying. It’s not easy, letting go. But I trust you. I just need time.”

You nod, resting your head against his chest. “I know. Just promise me one thing.”

He tilts your chin up, looking into your eyes. “Anything.”

You smile, a weight lifting off your shoulders. “Trust him too. Give Charles a chance.”

He sighs, the walls he built over the years slowly crumbling. “For you, I’ll try.”

***

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” your father says, breaking the tense silence that envelops the extravagant dining room.

Charles, sitting straight-backed and visibly anxious, clears his throat. “Sir, I assure you, my intentions with Y/N are—”

Genuine laughter interrupts him. You glance in shock at your father, who chuckles, “Relax, Charles. I’ve watched you on the track. You face challenges head-on. That’s a quality I admire.”

Charles exhales a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir. Y/N means the world to me.”

Your father studies Charles, his gaze thoughtful. “I can see that. And I have seen the change in Y/N since she met you.”

You bite your lip, waiting for what he might say next. “Papa, I—”

He raises a hand, silencing you. “I’ve spent my life building walls around you, trying to protect you from the world. But maybe ... maybe it’s time to let you fly.”

Your heart leaps in your chest. “Papa …”

He smiles at you, warmth shining in his eyes. “You’re my daughter. All I’ve ever wanted is your happiness. If Charles is the one who brings that joy, then I give you both my blessing.”

Tears glisten in your eyes as you stand, moving to embrace your father. “Thank you.”

Charles stands too, extending a hand towards your father. “Thank you, sir. I promise to take cherish and take care of her.”

Your father grasps Charles’ hand for a moment longer than expected, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Charles,” he begins, a twinkle of mischief evident, “just remember … if you ever hurt my daughter, they will never find your body.”

Charles gulps, eyes widening, then realizes the playful tone your father has adopted. He chuckles, nodding, “Duly noted, sir.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Papa, you are impossible.”

Your father grins, the atmosphere significantly lighter. “Just making sure he understands.”

Charles playfully raises his hands in surrender. “Message received loud and clear.”

***

The pitter-patter of little feet echoes through the grand halls, accompanied by peals of laughter. The once silent mansion is now alive with the exuberance of youth. Every corner and every room tells tales of play and joy, of childhood memories being crafted.

“Slow down, my darlings!” You call out in amusement as you chase the energetic duo.

Charles laughs as one of your kids hides behind him, tiny hands clutching his leg. “You can’t hide here forever!” He teases.

From the doorway, your father watches, his eyes glassy. The stoic businessman, the guardian of a vast empire, is rendered soft and vulnerable by the presence of his grandchildren.

“Grandpa!” The children cheer, running to him, their arms outstretched.

He bends down, scooping them into a gentle embrace. “I have a surprise for you,” he whispers, producing a small cage with a golden canary inside from behind his back. Its wings barely beat, eyes darting around to mirror its trapped spirit.

The children’s eyes widen in wonder. “Why is it in a cage, Grandpa?”

Your father looks up, meeting your gaze, the weight of the past reflected in his eyes. “It looked sad at the market, just like someone I once knew. But we’re going to set it free.”

Together, the family moves to the balcony. Your father opens the cage door, and the canary, after a hesitant moment, takes flight, its song a melody of freedom and hope.

As you watch the bird disappear into the horizon, your father breaks the silence. “Sometimes, we cage the things we love, thinking it’s for the best. But true love is about letting go, letting them spread their wings.”

You lean into Charles, his arm wrapping around you, the children nestled between you both. “Thank you, Papa,” you whisper. “For letting us learn the true meaning of freedom.”

Your father smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “It took me a while but I finally understand. Love, life, freedom — they’re all interconnected. We just have to find our sky.”

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pandoraslxna · 10 months

Text

Sweet like Cherry – Chapter 3

Miles Quaritch x female human reader

Words: 5.1k

Summary: Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Warnings: explicit smut, conflicted emotions, mentions of murder, dirty talk, praise & degradation, vaginal fingering, clit slapping, begging, virgin reader, obsession, authority kink, power play

Notes: if this reads like a I’m a villain fucker it’s because I am

Miles Quaritch is everything your mother had conditioned you to hate in a person.

He's rude, you’re reminded every time he throws out insults and sarcastic comments like they're candy at a parade. He's disrespectful, you think, when he never has a good word to say about anyone who’s not an authority figure. And he‘s a narcissistic prick, you realize his high sense of own importance whenever he strolls through hallways and enters a room like he owns the place, not caring about anything or anyone that isn’t himself.

No, he certainly isn’t a good man. He's probably killed way more people than you could even count on both hands. But he did it for his country and mankind and all that stuff, and apparently that kind of murder is considered honorable. Still, there's no way Quaritch is anywhere close to being good.

At first, you liked to imagine he is; that he's got an actual heart where his badge of honor was. But if you've been hired by the government to do shady shit on another planet, killed by blue aliens and then somehow reincarnated, trapped in a body that looked like said enemy, odds are that you're probably just comfortable with bloodshed.

And while he's definitely no boy scout, he still seems far removed from that cold-hearted, disgruntled soldier that didn’t gave two shits about this moon and everyone who wasn’t considered human, the one you’ve heard so many stories about, that you have a hard time accepting that both versions of him are just past and present forms of the same person.

But no matter how you might want to put it, in the end, Miles Quaritch just wasn’t a good man.

And you hate it.

You hate the fact you don’t hate him at all.

Is this how it’s supposed to feel, you ask yourself. Are you supposed to feel the way you do as you wake up in the morning, sleep deprived and yearning for the man that had left you, abandoned like a toy he didn’t want to play with anymore?

Maybe you’re just so starved for touch that you don’t hate him at all, not even after what had happened. It's not heartbroken, or remotely close to the feeling of being sad. You hadn’t shed a single tear like you thought you would. You just felt confused and empty. Empty, more in a physical type of way than metaphorically, if you were being honest.

Quaritch had left you when you were still floating in the afterglow of the most intense orgasm you’ve ever managed to coax out of yourself, yet he hadn’t even bothered to touch you.

If anything, you just felt frustrated. So, so frustrated and embarrassed, like you’ve never been before.

If there was something you proved to be good at in these past couple of days, it was running on caffeine, carbs, and minimal sleep. You hunched over your equipment at the laboratory, carefully abstracting the fluid of a tsyorina'wll- a flour seed plant, before inspecting it under a microscope. You observed the reaction the plants fluid had when coming in contact with oxygen from Earth and then documented it.

Your breathing was at a steady pace, and your brows were furrowed in a tight knot, wrinkling your forehead above your eyebrows in concentration.

Despite the silence in the room, a headache was slowly spreading from your temples over your forehead, pounding loud enough that it almost completely drowned out every thought in your head. If only it was strong enough to stop yourself from overthinking…

You were working in a cleared space in the laboratory, a quiet corner you had mostly to yourself, which made the whole situation so much worse.

You had been personally situated by Dr. Garvin, who had sat you by the big floor-to-ceiling window, giving you access to your own computer and a rather big desk with all necessities you would need for your studies. You weren’t quite close to the big examination table, giving Garvin, who frequently worked there when he wasn’t away for outpost explorations, plenty of space for only God-knows-what. You got used to all the little yellow post-it notes littered across his desk, labeling basically anything as "do not touch!!!" (yes, even his favorite pen) pretty quickly.

Initially, Ian had been quite annoyed when Ardmore suggested letting you use up some more space. Impressed with your accomplishments and scientific studies, she had promoted you to the higher department on your very first week. But for two whole years, that had been his private space to fuck around and work, and he didn't like the idea of having to share it with somebody he didn't know. Yet that tension was quickly eased with how considerate, thankful, and downright nice you were to him.

Oh and there was also Laura. A kind, middle aged woman and fellow scientist that worked on a thesis about pandoras flora that was very similar to yours. If you were to ask Laura, she would probably describe you as neat, always cleaning up properly and not talking too much. But when you did, it was a nice, pleasant conversation that would elicit a few chuckles, even from Garvin himself.

Laura was kind, too. She probably wasn't even assigned to do this, but somehow she ended up becoming a mentor for you, showing you around and introducing you to everyone in the first couple of weeks after your arrival.

She was cute, small and very extroverted, which was funny considering that she had been sharing the same work place with the most introverted person you’ve ever met for the past two years. And she also had a notably adorable focused look on her face while she worked, with her glasses sitting entirely on the tip of her nose.

But unfortunately, Laura wasn’t here today. She had called in sick a couple of days ago, with what sounded like either a stomach flue or the symptoms of having caught a pandorian bug after her little field trip last week. You made a mental note on bringing her some soup from the cafeteria later that day.

The other scientists, like Maggie, who were closer around your age and could probably help distract you from the mess of thoughts running laps in your brain, were spread out on the other floors and different laboratories, which left you to work all on your own today and most likely the rest of the week too.

Normally, you were glad for all of this alone time.

Being alone usually meant, you could zone out of the window and if you were lucky enough, you could catch a glimpse of Colonel hot-as-fuck, before he went on another mission into the depths of pandoras jungle. Or you could gawk at him during lunch break, stroll up and down the hallways more times than actually necessary just to maybe walk past him and get a whiff of his cologne.

Usually, you were more than just glad to be alone, because the thought of being caught gawking at him by a coworker and having to explain why you were eye-fucking the recom squads leader would be kind of degrading.

But right now, you absolutely hated being on your own, left alone with thoughts that dared to consume you whole if you wouldn’t find a way to distract yourself within the next hour or so.

This whole week had felt like you were stuck in a loop.

Almost two weeks had passed since your little encounter with the Colonel. And it suddenly felt like the days went by quicker than you could even blink. You had spend most of your time cramped inside the laboratory, only ever coming out to take a shower and sleep for a couple of hours, maybe even get something to eat, if entering the cafeteria felt safe enough, before you went back to work.

Before Pandora, before Quaritch, there was never really a face to the man in your dreams, your dirty little fantasies; only the blur of a body, hands touching you, feeling you up and down. But now there was a face. And there were eyes now, too. Watching you, always just watching. To the point you got anxious walking through hallways and entering the cafeteria to get yourself something to eat, because what if you accidentally stumbled upon him, what if those eyes were also there, watching you like they had been watching you from across the bed.

Okay, scratch that. Anxious was maybe the wrong word to describe what you’ve been feeling lately. You were embarrassed. Embarrassed because you spend day and night overthinking all the possibilities that lead him to just get up and leave like a coward.

You spend a lot of time after that wondering just how the fuck Quaritch of all people came to be the one you just couldn't categorize. None of the many little boxes in your head that stored people you‘ve got all figured out ever seemed like quite the right fit for him.

Why did he leave? Why?

Did he not like what he saw? Did he not like you?

He had proven to be harder to read than most people, you came to realize, and you didn’t like that one bit. It had your mind spiraling, running wild with the absurdest thoughts and theories.

Of course a man like Quaritch, who had about four decades worth of sexual experience, wasn’t fond of the idea of fucking a dumb little virgin that probably had no idea what she was even doing. God, you definitely made the biggest fool out of yourself, you thought. Vivid images of Quaritch, passing around all your polaroids to a snickering recom squad, began to visualize themselves in your head. All laughing over the naïve scientist that thought she could get into the Colonels pants just like that. Like she was someone.

It was pretty much self explanatory why you had stopped sending him polaroids after that day. Obviously you wouldn’t continue to act as a dumb little plaything for him and his squad to make fun of. You were just glad that the ones he already had of you didn’t show your face, so if he ever decided to make them public, you at least had the chance to deny that the woman on these photos was you. And it wasn’t like the whole of bridgehead knows about your little cherry tattoo, basically the only indication that it was, in fact, you on them. Hopefully that meant you could keep your job, if any of your supervisors was ever to see these damn Polaroids.

The hard-to-ignore fact that Quaritch also hadn’t bothered to reach out to you since then only adds further to the horrible images in your mind, until you actually felt yourself starting to believe that this was clearly a one time thing and that he only wanted to see what he would get himself into, before deciding that he would never want to see or talk to you again.

Besides craving the numbing of whatever you currently didn’t want to feel, you also began to crave the lunch that you completely missed to get about three hours ago. The loud grumbling of your stomach informs you so. Unfortunately the decision to get up from the chair you had seemingly been glued on for most of the day came to you when the cafeteria was already closed, which left you with no choice but to take the elevator, travel two floors down and get some unhealthy snacks out of the vending machine. But it’s whatever. Not like you had to look good in a bikini any time soon or would put on another show, as naked as the day you were born, in the next couple of days– or ever again.

Rounding the corner after exiting the elevator, you don’t even wait until you reach the laboratory again, already fiddling with a bag of chips that somehow, even on Pandora, ended up being filled with eighty percent of air. Pushing the labs door open with your hip, your whole focus was on opening the damn bag of chips and greedily reaching for the first one, before stuffing it into your mouth.

Finally glancing back up to look over at your workplace, all blood in your body seems to run cold at once.

There he is, Colonel fuckin' America, leaning against your desk with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at you like you had the audacity to keep him waiting. Like nothing has ever happened. Like this is so natural for him, to be here in your space.

The sight of him practically sitting on your desk, unbeknownst to him crumbling several important documents under him, had you stopping dead in your tracks. Confused didn’t come nearly close to the word that could describe your facial expression when you looked at him, the bag of chips almost slipping from your grasp as you wondered just how the fuck he even knew where exactly you worked?

"Colonel", you simply say, itching to face palm yourself because you might as well salute him too now.

"It’s Miles", he responds, the corner of his mouth curving up in what could be a grin as he pushes himself off the desk and slowly walks over to you. When he begins to circle you, the by now familiar feeling of being his prey returns to you.

The clinically white lab coat you were wearing always helped you feel grounded, like a talisman that reminded you of your true nature, your worth, and it also gave you something to fiddle with to ease your nerves. You wringe the fabric of your sleeve between your fingers, pulling and pinching it in an attempt to keep your hands busy so they wouldn’t start shaking.

With your nerves on high alert and more adrenaline pumping through your veins by the second, your legs decide to move without your brain’s consent, walking over to your desk to place the bag of chips on the smooth, white surface, before you awkwardly begin to sort every document that Quaritch was so kind to make a mess with, as he sat down on them.

"What are you doing here, sir?", you ask to try and end this nerve wrecking tension. That elicits a low chuckle out of him. You force yourself not to look up at him, but you hear him follow you, stepping closer, until you feel his warm breath fan over the top of your head.

"It seems you’ve stopped sending me your little polaroids, cherry", he hums, tilting his head so his lips were closer to your ear. "How come?"

"I- I- I‘m, I didn’t know if you would still…", there’s a pause and you take a deep breath, your voice growing quieter with every word, "if you were still interested in them."

Behind your back, Quaritch’s ears twitch. Damn Na’vi and their distinctive hearing, you curse them. You see the dancing shadow of his tail, curling and swaying as he processes what you had just told him.

"And what made you think that?", he then asks, and your heart skips a beat at his voice, giving you false hope with the sound of being genuinely interested.

"I don’t know, I– I just-“, you struggle to find the right words and sigh. "I thought you weren’t interested in me." It’s a honest confession. You squeeze your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose in embarrassment as you keep letting the words flow out. There was no going back anyways now. "You didn’t even… touch me or anything so I thought you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. Especially after finding out that– that I’ve never…"

You don’t finish the sentence. Partly because you can’t bring yourself to speak it out, name the obvious, and partly because he didn’t let you.

"Is that what you want?", Quaritch cuts in and you whip your head around just in time to see his lips part into a toothy grin, his sharp canine poking out from under his lip. He cocks his head to the other side, "You want me to touch you, huh?"

There was something to be said about power and pleasure. Any moron could inflict pain, for all the power it gave to them and certainly pain could be a useful tool, especially to someone like him. But it surely wasn't pain that gave him the feeling of power when it came to you. Quaritch stroked a finger over the back of your neck, carefully flicking your hair over your shoulder.

"Alright, I‘ll touch you, cherry", he hums, "But only if you promise to keep these pretty pictures coming, yes?"

Humans were never designed to fight what felt good to them, you knew that. Pleasure had someone who was expecting a fight as disorientated as a baby bird that just hit glass. The power of making someone melt in your hands, it must be intoxicating. You couldn’t just see it in his eyes, you also felt it in the way his hands wandered from your neck to the collar of your lab coat, gently pulling it down over your shoulders.

You never wished to be better at controlling your expressions as in this moment. You could feel the blush growing on your cheeks, giving away what you were feeling too easily. And it only encouraged Quaritch further. You let him pull the coat off of you completely, and look away briefly as he tosses it over your chair. A moment passes, his hands just lingering but not entirely touching you, until you cast your gaze back at him.

"Okay", you breathe out, nodding slightly, and that’s all the confirmation he needed.

Quaritch lets his hands fall lower, to snake down your thigh, fingers skimming over the fabric of your skirt. His big hands almost entirely curl around your leg, fingertips pressing into what he already seems know is one of your favourite places to be touched: your inner thigh, where it tickles and arouses you in equal measure, but he doesn’t linger there. His hands wander past the vulnerable flesh, further up where he then hoists your skirt up to expose your panties.

A sound between a low hum and a content purr comes from deep within his chest, as he cups your clothed cunt with his warm balm, slowly running the tips of his fingers against the soft fabric between your thighs. Your breath hitches when he finds the outline of your clit, nudging it gently. He drags his knuckles across the fabric of your panties, a barely-there touch, but you’re so sensitive already that your hips twitch at the contact and you bite your lip to keep from moaning. And that ultimately makes you come back to your senses.

"W-Wait, you– here?", you whisper. Your eyes slide to the door, made out of milky glass, closed but unlocked. It’s late and you’re almost sure everyone else that worked on this floor has already went home, but still. Anyone could just walk in here at any second.

You take a quick look at Quaritch over your shoulder, brows furrowed, a worried almost pleading look on your face.

"Yes, here", he confirms.

"You- you can’t be serious." You’re blushing more deeply now. The colour blossoms over your cheeks, the tip of your ears and even creeps down your neck, disappearing beneath that neatly ironed blouse you picked out this morning.

The Colonel chuckles, "You want me to touch you, don’t you? So that’s what i‘m going to do, cherry."

"I didn’t mean right here!"

"But I did. C’mon now, take these off for me", he says, hooking a finger under the waistband of your panties to pull and let them snap back against your skin, causing you to flinch slightly. You hesitantly reach for them, pulling the soft fabric down ever so slowly, like you were still debating if you were loosing your mind and with it, any sense of caution.

All it would need was for one oblivious person to enter your lab and catch you with a ten feet tall recom, messing around in a workspace area that’s supposed to be clean and free of any contamination, and you would most likely loose your job and get sent back to earth within the next twenty-four hours.

But do you really want him to stop though? His velvety voice washes over you, ensnaring you in warmth, his desire, and anticipation.

You don’t want him to stop. It would kill you if he did.

Once you slipped out of your panties, Quaritch places a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your chest lays flat against your desk.

"Spread yourself for me." It’s an order to be obeyed directly, so you reach behind yourself, one hand on each side as you pull your cheeks apart. Your glad for the rather cold surface of the table when you rest your burning face against it, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

Behind you, Quaritch groans at the sight.

"What a cute little pussy, all pretty and pink."

You feel his eyes rake over your body, burning across your skin, drinking in the sight of you bent over for him oh so nicely and willing, entirely at his mercy. You hear him give a satisfied exhale and your flush deepens.

"Poor thing really missed me, huh? Dripping already and I haven’t even started", he laughs.

Your breath catches in your throat. You’re warm all over, particularly between your thighs, where you feel more wetness pool. It amazed you that he had this much control over you with just a few touches and some pretty woven words. His voice, his touch, the power he exudes in the air around you… it all targets you.

Ever so slowly, he then slides his middle finger between your folds, coating it in your arousal. You whimper softly, once he comes in contact with your clit. It’s a teasing touch at first, but he soon puts more pressure into it as he expertly begins to draw small circles over the little nub.

Your breath comes in quick gasps, the more Quaritch plays with your clit, and you can already feel your legs begin to tremble. Your abdomen clenches with your exasperated breathing and the throbbing between your thighs, but it’s not enough. Another whine leaves you and he chuckles deviously directly into your ear.

"So needy…", Quaritch hums, his breath hot against your skin. To your surprise, his warm, wet tongue then licks the curve of your ear, before he bites down playfully. You gasp sharply, and at the same time his middle finger moves to tease your entrance. "…and so wet for me.”

You should feel shame, you think, as you arch into the broad stroke of his palm.

"Please", you can’t even muster your own voice to have any strength to it, "please, sir. I- I need more."

And then, a single finger slides into you, answering your prayers.

Despite the ridiculous amount of slick seeping out of you, it’s a tight fit. Quaritch pushes inside with some effort, slowly sinking into your tight, wet tunnel, spreading you wide around his thick digit. It’s twice the size of a human finger, in girth and length, and you bite your lip, whimpering softly while he enters you, hands digging into your own flesh as you continue to spread yourself.

Another finger moves to roll over your clit, while he pushes inside you to the last knuckle.

"That’s it, cherry. Just like that. Look at you swallowing my finger like a good girl", Quaritch huffs out a breath, "Goddamn, your fuckin' tight."

He gives you a few second to collect yourself, let your body adjust to the unfamiliar stretch before he starts moving. Your velvety walls clamp down on his finger as he sets his pace, moving it in and out, curling it up and dragging it along your insides.

You work to steady your breathing, reveling in his touch, but the feeling of his finger moving inside you while another runs over your clit is something else. Your toes curl into your soles and you can’t hold back the moans spilling from your parted lips.

Your mind felt fuzzy, clouded with the squelching sounds he expertly worked out of your pussy and the delicious stretch that his rough finger bought you.

"There you go, there you fuckin' go", Quaritch groans. His fingers work relentlessly on you, somehow finding the exact spot where you craved him most. And as if the floodgates finally broke, a stream of incoherently words and syllables came out, babbling and begging as his thrusts became more rapid, the palm of his hand smacking against your folds with the sheer intensity he was suddenly finger-fucking you in.

"Oh f– please. Fucking– please", you gasp, squirming underneath the large palm that kept you pinned against the desk with enough pressure that you started to feel a little lightheaded.

"What was that?", the Colonel raised his brows, snickering at your already fucked-out state.

"I need you–", you manage to force out between wanton moans, but then you take a big, heaving breath, and your next words come out in almost a sob, "I need you to fuck me!"

There comes no response. His movement doesn’t falter either, he doesn’t slow down for even a second and you feel that familiar coil in your core tighten more and more.

"Miles–", you try to straighten up, but he pushes down on your back again. You let him push you flat against the table without putting up any sort of fight, safe for the begging of course. "Miles, please." You try to reach him by calling his name, pleading, but it’s no use.

Taking matters in your own hands, you push back against his palm, trying to roll your ass directly onto his crotch behind you. The hand that had been laying on your back moves down to your hip and tightens there, fingertips digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise. His sharp intake of air, followed by a low growl leave you momentarily satisfied, thinking you might actually get what you were begging for this whole time.

"You really are desperate.", Miles growls. Then, he pulls his finger out of your sopping hole, until only his fingertip rests inside you. It makes all hair on your body stand up straight as you wait in anticipation. But instead of drawing away entirely to replace his hand with his cock, you feel a second finger nudge past your tight entrance. You inhale sharply, feeling yourself get stretched to the absolute max as both of his thick digits enter you slowly. You nearly sob, once both of them are halfway stuffed into you, all the way in to your own physical limit.

"I thought I’d fucked an onslaught of people who topped the list of desperation, but cherry, sweet thing, I have to say–", his other hand reaches around your middle and gives your clit a light slap to emphasise his point, pushing his fingers just barely an inch further in and you whine in response, “Nobody was ever quite as pathetic or as needy as you are."

It felt like your brain was overheating, daring to melt out of your ears the moment he curled both of his digits inside you like he was beckoning to you, and then started to thrust them at a fast but steady pace.

His palm smacked against your wet folds, fingers creating loud squelching noises as he fucked you with them. The feeling of your juices running down his wrist actually had him grinning behind your back like the smug bastard that he was.

“Oh my god, don’t– don’t stop", you moan, cursing under your breath, and thank fuck he doesn’t. He fingers you in the same way you imagined he would fuck you. Hard and fast and deep enough to feel so incredibly full of him, but it only reminded you of much you actually wanted this to happen. "Yes, yes please. Please I need it, need you to fuck me, please, sir!” You cry out, cutting yourself off with a moan of his name, "Miles, Miles, please–”

You nearly scream when he pushes his digits in to the last knuckle, feeling his fingertips prod at your cervix in a means to shut you up.

"That’s not gonna happen, cherry", he forces out through gritted teeth, leaning over your much smaller frame before his tongue once again curved over the shell of your ear.

A shudder runs up the curve of your spine and you whine softly, "Wha– Why?"

"You really think you can take me? Look at you", he chuckles lowly into your ear, causing goosebumps to raise all over your body, "You’re already sobbing and I’m barely two fingers in. You couldn’t take my cock even if you weren’t a goddamn virgin."

You shook your head frantically, denying his doubt of your physical abilities. But with the way he was plunging his fingers in and out of you, the obscene sounds of slick smearing between his palm and all over your pussy, it was hard to talk back to him. Instead, you were chanting his name under your breath and it became louder and higher in pitch the closer you got to your release.

Your brain had completely checked out sometime around when your felt yourself squeeze his digits so painfully tight, it didn’t even left room for some of your slickness, so it started leaking out, running down the inside of your thighs and dribbling on the tiled floor.

Your breathing has turned rapid, struggling to keep steady as he was driving you over the edge faster than you could probably even process it. With a downright embarrassing, needy voice, you began to brabble whatever nonsense came to your fucked out mind, your need for release so shamefully on display that it made him scoff.

Even though your eyes were squeezed shut, you were fighting the urge to lose consciousness. You never welcomed the cool surface of your desk against your cheek as much as right now. Your whole body felt hot, sticky with sweat and other body fluids as you went slack, only held upright by the table you were half laying on and the force of his hands on you.

"Don’t pass out on me", you distantly hear him laugh, before he delivers another slap to your clit, causing you to jolt. "You cock hungry little slut."

The heat that pooled in your stomach felt as if it would overflow soon, as if the knot that had tighten would snap any second, harder than you ever thought was possible. And then, showing more mercy to you than he probably ever had to anyone, Quaritch curls his fingers against your g-spot just right and growls,

"Come for me. Now."

676 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 2 years

Note

and what about Rooster? we all know he's loud and the life of the party( nothing wrong with that) but what about when the squad finally meets his "misterious lady" and she's super sweet and calm , the only one who can ground her and they're total opposites but complete each other

please send me top gun requests!!!

Rooster's four beers in, and not stopping soon. The bottle in his hand leaks condensation on the bar, but he doesn't notice as he's shouting to be heard by Coyote who's perched three stools away from him. Phoenix and Fanboy are between them, taking every opportunity they can to root for Bob who was standing at the pool table, and to laugh at Hangman, who was opposite him.

"-anyways I said- I said babe!" Rooster hollers, far too animated as Coyote strains to hear him, "You gotta come tonight! Everyone wants to- to meet you!"

"Man I still don't believe she's real," Coyote grins, taking a sip of his own beer, "You gotta be makin' her up."

"I'm not," Rooster insists, shaking his head, "'Swear to god she's as real as- babe!"

He spots you stepping tentatively into the bar, eyes wide as you scan the room. Everyone there is drinking, everyone there is loud, and everyone there is a stranger.

Except, of course, the man at the bar. Rooster barrels towards you with excitement far too elevated for your sensory levels right now, and you brace yourself for impact. Luckily, he supports you while he tackles you, catching you before you can fall when your feet aren't on the floor anymore.

"Baaaabe," He gushes, squeezing you tight to his chest, trapping your arms at your sides. He lifts you off of your feet and rocks you side to side, beer back at the bar but not forgotten as it courses through his systems, "You're here!"

"I told you I'd come," The hug is comforting, even if it suffocates you, and you breathe in the scent of his laundry detergent through his faded hawaiian shirt. You'd started using the same brand, and you feel closer to him than ever.

"How was work?" He keeps his mouth close to your ear as he leads you through the bar, an arm around your shoulders to weave you through the patrons, "Did you get that project done?"

"Mhm," You hum, your hand still gripping the fabric of his shirt, "One of my team members was out sick today, but she still emailed me stuff. It wasn't as terrible as I thought it would be."

"I'm proud of you," He croons, reaching his stool and easing you into it, "I think you deserve a drink for your efforts."

"Just one, and something light." You warn him, eyes wide, "I'm driving us both home tonight."

He seems to agree with you, though you're not sure if he'll remember by the time you're finished with your first one. There's a moment of silence between you, though the ambiance of the bar still rages around you, and then Bradley's perking up again.

"Oh! He steps out from where he's standing between you and three more occupied stools, "Guys! This is Y/N."

Coyote, who'd joined in on the spectacle of Hangman v Bob, doesn't hear him at first. Phoenix, who you recognize from Rooster's stories, greets you kindly, making a remark about dealing with Rooster 24/7 that's admittedly funny enough to make you giggle.

"Coyote," Rooster shouts, reaching over to smack him on the shoulder, "I said, this is Y/N! Babe," He turns to you, voice still at full volume, "This is-!"

You slap a hand over his mouth before he can finish, eyes nearly squeezing shut as he yells in your face. He doesn't mean to, of course, but the noise is overpowering, and you can't take it.

"Too loud," You remind him, voice soft in comparison. He hears it, watches your lips move while you're speaking, and realizes his mistake, albeit too late. You feel him press a soft kiss to the palm of your hand in apology, his mustache tickling your skin.

"Sorry," He mumbles, much quieter now. You drop your hand so that he can speak normally, but he catches it on the way down, bringing it back up to his lips. He dots kisses along each of your knuckles, standing between you and the open space of the bar so that you're shielded from some of the hustle and bustle, "Didn't mean to scream at you."

"It's okay," You laugh fondly, letting your hand rest in his own. You turn back to Coyote, clocking his wide-eyed expression, "It's nice to meet you!"

"You too," He gushes, eyes bright, "You got him to shut up!"

#rooster #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster x you #rooster x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #top gun #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader

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euorian-pdf · 3 months

Text

PT 3 "I'm falling on my knees, Forgive me, I'm a fucking fool"

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆synopsis: Being trapped in Levi's 'family gathering' event by a snowstorm takes a unexpected turn as past hidden truth finally reveal themselves.

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆contains: modern au! everyone, grovelling!eren, connie x reader, levi x reader, eren x reader. everyone is alive and well.

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆wc: 7.9K.

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆tw: swearing, manipulation mentioned.

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ Here is: part 1 and part 2

“Are you gonna keep staring at that window?” Mikasa asks crossing her arms as she addresses you and your attitude. You’re still facing the window contemplating which storm you’d rather be in but you remember the promise you made to your friends, that you wouldn’t leave where you currently are until the storm dies down. You tug on your shirt, fidgeting with the cotton design as you wonder how you’re going to get through this mess.

“Hello, do I know you?”

You know it’s a lame attempt but all the guests are still here and the last thing you want is for a confrontation or a fight between you and them. You see Historia scoff, Ymir smirk, Sasha gasping and a hand to her mouth as if what you just said was a grave sin, Jean unimpressed, Connie crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows in a manner of ‘are you fucking for real right now’ and Eren still staring at you, eyes mixed with multiple emotions ranging from guilt, confusion, anxiety, and yearning.

“You’re not fucking funny.” Historia begins rolling her eyes at you as she stares at you disinterested in your whole act. You constantly remind yourself to be the bigger person and not nitpick on certain sentences that rub you off the wrong way.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny, I’m Levi’s friend, it’s nice to meet you all.”

You think that maybe by continuing the act, they will eventually move on and focus on something else. But your attempt to defuse the tension only seems to make things worse. Eren's gaze intensifies with guilt, and you can practically feel the weight of his unspoken words bearing down on you.

Mikasa steps forward, her expression unreadable as she studies you. "nice sense of humor you've developed" she comments dryly.

You offer a weak smile, feeling the pressure mounting with each passing second. "Well, there's a first time for everything, right?"

Before anyone else can respond adding fuel to the tension, Levi appears in the doorway, a concerned furrow in his brow as he takes in the scene before him. "What's going on here?"

You mentally thank Levi for intervening, grateful for the interruption. Mikasa gestures towards you with a subtle tilt of her head, and Levi's gaze follows her motion. You can see the confusion flicker across his features as he tries to make sense of the situation.

"Do you know these brats?" Levi asks, his tone a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as he turns to you for an explanation.

You can't bring yourself to lie to him and tell him you don't know each other. Levi's good at reading people, especially you and you'd hate to have this go in a roundabout so you come clean and tell him.

"Knew, I don't know them anymore," you say as you clasp your hands together and nod at them. You offer a small smile, perhaps more than they deserve, but you do so anyway. Then, without waiting for any further exchange, you pick up Levi's comedy book and grab him by his elbow, gently but firmly.

"Let's head to your office for a moment," you suggest, the urgency evident in your tone.

Levi gives you a questioning look, but he trusts your judgment enough to follow your lead without protest, well other than a small annoyed 'tch'. As you guide him through the crowd, you can feel the weight of multiple gazes on you ranging from confusion to jealousy, including, his silent curiosity hanging in the air.

You don't look behind your shoulder as you leave the dining area. Once you reach Levi's office, you close the door behind you, enveloping the space in a sense of privacy. You take a moment to compose yourself, gathering your thoughts before you turn to face Levi. You hold up the satirical book in front of him and wave it around.

"Didn't know you had a bone of humor in you, Levi."

"Cut the shit."

You huff, this man never fails to know when you're flat-out lying. You pause for a moment, caught off guard by Levi's directness. His sharp gaze pierces through your facade, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. Taking a deep breath, you lower the book, the playful wave forgotten in the face of Levi's seriousness.

"Okay, fine," you give up, dropping the act. "I just wanted to lighten the mood up a bit."

Levi eyes you skeptically, his expression unreadable. "And how's that working out for you?"

You sigh as you stare at his bookshelf, you don't know what to do, it's like you've hit a wall, a large hard brick wall. You know you can't keep avoiding the elephant in the room, but you also dread the thought of addressing it head-on. You turn back to face Levi, mustering up the courage to broach the subject that has been hanging over you like an unexorcised spirit.

"I want this night to go well for you and for everyone, we've spent the whole day preparing and it's gonna suck if it gets ruined from something so trivial" You begin carefully choosing your words as you fidget around with the book unable to look him in the eyes.

"I'm not following." He says back. Levi's response catches you off guard, and you struggle to find the right words to convey your thoughts without sounding too dramatic or making the situation worse.

"Sorry, I thought we were on the same page." you begin, your voice slightly shaky unable to make an 'old man' joke about Levi's understanding problems. "I had a fallout with your cousin and her friends and I really don't want to confront or be confronted so I'm trying to keep things on low profile."

Levi's brows knit together in a mixture of concern and confusion as he processes your words. He leans back against his desk, folding his arms across his chest, a thoughtful expression crossing his features.

"You had a fallout with them?" Levi repeats, his tone laced with disbelief and questioning. "What happened?"

You shift uncomfortably under Levi's scrutinizing gaze, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you. You knew this conversation wouldn't be easy, but you hadn't anticipated just how difficult it would be to explain yourself to Levi, someone you've grown to respect and admire. Levi sees this and he doesn't want to intrude upon you and your feelings so he interjects before you can speak

"You don't have to tell me just rank it from 1-10."

You appreciate Levi's consideration, and his willingness to give you space to process your emotions. Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you ponder Levi's question, mentally ranking the fallout with Eren and his friends on a scale of one to ten.

"Personally, I'd say an eight." you finally reply, your voice quiet but steady. "It made me want to leave states and go no contact so it was pretty serious then."

Levi nods, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs your answer. "And how serious is it now?"

You shrug your shoulders and smile a bit though the gesture feels somewhat forced given the weight of the situation.

"Nowhere near as serious as then, probably a 5 or a 3," you answer honestly, your voice soft but resolute. "I wouldn't be as outgoing as I am if I dwelled on the past."

Levi nods in understanding, his gaze is unwavering as he listens intently to your response. He is pretty proud of you, most people aren't capable of doing such a thing which makes Levi's expression soften, a hint of admiration gleaming in his eyes as he regards you but goes unnoticed by you obviouslyThough Levi would never openly express such sentiment, especially not to your face, he harbours a quiet respect for you, tucked away in the depths of his heart. But in moments like these, when he witnesses your unwavering resolve and beautiful forgiving spirit, it's impossible for him not to feel a sense of pride in your accomplishments.

Levi nods subtly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he redirects his attention to the task at hand. Despite his outward demeanor, you can't help but feel a sense of warmth emanating from him, a silent reassurance that he's there for you, even if he doesn't say it outright.

Levi clears his throat, breaking the silence that envelops the room. "Well, regardless of the past, I appreciate you being here tonight," he says, his tone gruff, low but sincere. "So, how do you want to go about it?"

You feel your heart internally sob at Levi's soft yet gruff

"I think the best action is to just keep a low profile," you suggest, your voice calm and measured. "I'm going to avoid any unnecessary confrontation and try to enjoy the night as much as possible."

Levi nods in understanding, his gaze steady as he listens to your plan. He respects your decision, knowing that sometimes the best course of action is to minimize conflict so he keeps a mental note in his mind to step in if things get out of hand, that's the least he can do for you for inconveniencing you for all this and practically being trapped because of the snowstorm.

Levi observes your demeanor, noting the relief evident in your posture and expression. There's a glimmer in your eyes that doesn't go unnoticed by him, a silent gratitude that speaks volumes. He's accustomed to people keeping their distance, to maintaining a certain level of detachment. Your openness catches him off guard, stirring something within him that he's not entirely comfortable with but he sort of. . . likes? He likes the way you bring out emotions in him that he's long since buried, the way you challenge his deadpans and stoic nature. He's uncertain about how to process it all but in the midst of this, there's something else bubbling in his chest… curiosity.

Meanwhile in the dining room

As Levi and you converse in his office, the atmosphere in the dining room remains tense, with whispers and side glances exchanged among the 'friend group'. Jean, unable to contain his disbelief, blurts out, "She's actually here?"

The room falls momentarily silent as all eyes turn towards Jean. His outburst breaks the thin veneer of composure that had settled over the gathering, and the tension ratchets up another notch.

Eren, sitting nearby, shifts uncomfortably in his seat. His gaze flickers between Jean and the door, where he knows you and Levi are having your conversation. There's a mix of emotions swirling within him – guilt, regret, and a longing to bridge the void that has formed between you and his group of friends.

Connie, though visibly annoyed by the disruption, can't help but feel a twinge of relief at the sight of you. Despite the fallout and the unresolved issues, he's glad to see you back again, even if it's under less-than-ideal circumstances.

Sasha, ever the empathetic one, senses the tension in the air and immediately decides to take action. She pulls out her phone, shooting a quick message to Armin and the others to inform them about your unexpected appearance.

Meanwhile, Mikasa remains silent, her expression unreadable as she watches the unfolding drama. She knows that things between you and Eren's group are far from resolved, and she's unsure of what to expect next.

Connie, unable to contain his frustration any longer, rises from his seat with a pointed glare at Eren. "Must be nice," he says, loud enough for those nearby to hear, "acting like you're the victim when you're the one pulling the strings."

The room falls into an uncomfortable silence as Connie's words hang in the air, the tension palpable between him and Eren. Eren's friends shift uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond to Connie's passive-aggressive accusation. They all know it's somewhat true and that makes things even worse.

Mikasa steps forward, her voice calm but firm. "Let's not do this here," she says, her eyes darting between Connie and Eren. "We'll talk about it later when we can all sit down and have a proper conversation."

"Oh? When is that, Mikasa? When the storm dies down and [Name] is long gone?" Connie retorts back, rolling his eyes at Mikasa's usual protective behavior of Eren regardless of whether he's wrong or right.

Connie refuses to back down, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. "I'm just saying it how it is," he replies, his tone tinged with sarcasm. "We all know who's really at fault here."

Eren shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his guilt weighing heavily on him as he avoids meeting anyone's gaze. He knows he needs to say something, to address the tension that hangs in the air like a heavy fog, but the words slip past him.

"Let's not make this any messier than it already is," Jean interjects, his tone a mix of concern and exasperation.

Connie's frustration boils over as he shoots back at Jean, his voice laced with bitterness. "You're no fucking better, so zip it"

Jean's brows furrow in response to Connie's biting remark, a flash of hurt crossing his features before he regains his composure. "I'm trying to prevent things from escalating," he retorts, his voice strained but firm. "We don't need any more drama tonight."

Connie's frustration simmers beneath the surface as he takes a deep breath, attempting to quell the turmoil raging within him. He can't shake the feeling of longing that gnaws at his insides, the ache of missing you, and the camaraderie you once shared. You were more than just a friend to him; you were his confidante, his partner in crime, his rock to his roll. The image of you replaying in his mind even though you're just in another room, he's determined to bring back the bond you once had. With a sigh, he realizes that confronting Eren won't solve anything; it'll only add fuel to the fire.

Kuchel strides into the room with Carla at her side, her presence commanding attention as she surveys the scene before her. With a warm smile, she claps her hands together, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

"Alright, children," she begins, her tone light but firm. "Us elders need instructions on how to play this Gen-Z game."

Kuchel's playful demeanor brings a sense of levity to the room as she playfully teases the younger guests. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she takes Eren by the hand, her grip firm but gentle as she leads him toward the table.

"You're a smart one, Eren," she says, her voice filled with pride. "I'm sure you can teach us a thing or two about this game."

Eren is flustered at the unexpected praise, feeling a sense of validation from Kuchel's words. He nods pathetically, grateful for the opportunity to teach them.

As they approach the table, Kuchel turns her attention to the rest of the group, her smile widening as she takes in their eager expressions.

"Alright, everyone," she announces, her voice carrying across the room. "Let's get seated and ready to play. And where is my dear son? Oh, and pretty Miss [Name]"

The group exchanges glances, realization dawning on them as they remember Levi's absence. Mikasa speaks up, her voice tinged with concern. "They're in the office, Auntie. I'll go get them."

Kuchel nods in acknowledgment, her focus already shifting back to the game at hand. "Alright. Thank you, dear. Let's get started, shall we? They can join us later."

Mikasa doesn't eavesdrop or even linger around, she swiftly makes her way to the office, knocks loud enough for the both of you to hear and tells you 'Auntie Kuchel wants us to play a game'.

Kuchel suggests playing "Never Have I Ever," and the group reacts with a mix of nerves and curiosity. Despite the tension in the room, they all agree to give it a shot, hoping it'll help take their minds off the underlying conflicts. So far, most of the elderly family members have gone upstairs with the help of Carla as the journey here was already exhausting. So the people left huddled in a circle in the living room are just, Carla, Connie, Eren, Historia, Jean, Kuchel, Mikasa, Sasha, and Ymir.

As you and Levi enter the room, you're immediately met with a wall of tension that seems to thicken the air. The stares from Sasha and her friends feel like daggers, their unspoken feelings hanging heavy in the room.

Kuchel, ever the peacemaker, takes charge of the situation, her velvety voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Make room, children," she commands, her tone firm but gentle. "[Name], come sit next to me, sweetie."

Relieved by the distraction, you follow Kuchel's welcome, making your way to the vacant seat beside her and Levi who also sits next to you. The warmth of her presence is a welcome respite from the tense reception you've received from the others.

Once settled, Kuchel suggests they continue their game of "Never Have I Ever," sensing the need for a lighthearted distraction. The group hesitates for a moment, still reeling from the revelations of the previous rounds, but ultimately lets it happen, as it happens to be the only thing able to break the palpable tension in the room. Little did they know.

As Kuchel suggests starting the game in a circular motion, the tension in the room thickens, a palpable weight settling over each person as she hands out paddles with text written on both sides' I HAVE' and 'I HAVE NEVER'. Historia, with her cautious yet bright smile, is the first to respond, her eyes betraying her bright attitude.

"Sure!" She exclaims clasping her hands together before thinking of a funny one. "Never have I ever Googled myself."

As Historia makes her playful admission, a small chuckle escapes the lips of those gathered around the table. Carla, with a playful glint in her eye, leans forward, her voice teasing yet affectionate.

"Well, aren't you just the little celebrity," Carla quips, her tone lighthearted. "Not all of us have the luxury of Googling ourselves without stumbling upon a million fan pages."

As the paddles flip to reveal the responses, a mix of amusement and curiosity dances in the air. Connie, Eren, Historia, Jean, and Sasha all sheepishly display their "I HAVE" paddles, their confessions met with knowing glances and playful teasing from the others. While you and the rest flip to 'I HAVE NEVER'. You feel thankful as the tension dies down, all you need is to get through this one night and finally go home.

It's now Sasha's turn. Sasha takes a moment to ponder her confession, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she considers her options. Finally, with a sly grin, she flips her paddle to reveal her chosen statement.

"Never have I ever eaten food off someone else's plate without asking," Sasha announces, her voice filled with playful mischief.

A chorus of laughter erupts around the table as everyone reveals their responses. Sasha, Jean, and Connie proudly display their "I HAVE" paddles, and their confessions are met with good-natured teasing from the others. Meanwhile, you and a few others confidently hold up your "I HAVE NEVER" paddles, relishing the opportunity to maintain a sense of innocence amidst the playful chaos.

Next, it's Jean's turn. His mind seemingly drifting away from the tension of the moment, clears his throat before settling on a confession. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he speaks up.

"Never have I ever been arrested."

You watch as Sasha, Connie, Ymir, and Eren?slowly flip their paddles to reveal the "I HAVE" side, their expressions a mix of amusement and defiance. Meanwhile, you and a handful of others maintain your innocence, holding steadfast to the "I HAVE NEVER" side.

"So, explain.."Historia nudges, her voice gentle but curious, as all eyes turn to Ymir, Sasha, Connie, and Eren, awaiting their response.

"I accidentally ate an art piece when I thought it was actual food," Sasha confesses with a sheepish grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she recalls the embarrassing incident.

"We were literally at a museum, you did it on purpose," Connie interjects, his tone teasing but affectionate as he playfully nudges Sasha with his elbow.

"I accidentally got arrested, someone swatted me and that caused me to get arrested while on stream, so there's that," Connie recalls.

Sasha reaches out, laying a hand on Connie's arm. "I remember that," she says softly, her voice laced with sympathy and a small chuckle. "It was so awful, you had like so many bruises after that"

Connie replies with a small 'yeah' and you feel bad, people can be real scum, you think wondering if Connie had laughed it off or dwelled on it.

"I got deliberately arrested, I punched an asshole who deserved it so no regrets" Eren confesses, shrugging as he fidgets with his bracelet, and your eyes widen as you recognize it. It's the azure frog bracelet you custom made for him on his birthday and told him you specifically found the hex color of his eyes and your eyes combined and made the bracelet with the exact same color with charms that read 'friends forever' and 'always together'.

"He's always been the rebellious type," Carla remarks with a soft chuckle, her tone tinged with fondness as she regards Eren. "Punching someone is the least of our worries if I'm being honest."

Eren shrugs nonchalantly, his expression betraying a hint of defiance. "He had it coming," he mutters under his breath, his gaze flickering briefly to you and widening as he sees you looking back at him as he immediately looks back down on the floor to prevent his stomach from churning feelings.

Kuchel clears her throat, wanting to keep the game going. "Well, isn't this a lively game?" she says, her voice light and cheerful, though you can detect a hint of concern beneath the facade. "Let's keep it moving, shall we?"

It's now Connie's turn.

"Never have I ever…" Connie seems to be in a state of indecisiveness, not knowing whether to confront you discreetly in this game or just keep it going. He decides on the former, obviously, Connie isn't Connie without stirring something up. "Abandoned my friends over a misunderstanding."

As Connie's words hang in the air, a hush falls over the table, the weight of his confession palpable amidst the tense atmosphere. His gaze lingers on you for the entire time, almost attacking you in a way, a silent challenge hidden within the depths of his eyes, before he flips his paddle to reveal the "I HAVE NEVER" side and smirks.

So does Eren, Jean, Mikasa, Sasha, Ymir, Historia, Kuchel, Carla, Levi, and obviously you. You've never done that, and you don't know what he's implying, but whatever it is, you hope he stops it.

"You should put that down, [Name]." Connie provokes, his voice low as his eyes never leave yours, he's content like this, gazing into your eyes and mentally taking a picture of how pretty you look, his eyes holding a depth of emotion that you struggle to decipher.

"I have never done such a thing, so I'll leave it up thanks." You reply firmly, your tone tinged with a hint of defiance. Despite the tension crackling between you, you stand your ground, unwilling to back down in the face of Connie's provocation.

"Are you sure?" Connie's question hangs in the air, his gaze piercing as he awaits your response. You feel the weight of everyone's stare on you as you try to understand at what he's hinting at, but you fail. It's too vague, too foggy to see clearly.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Alright, I'll change my play then," Connie replies, giving up confronting you and turning his head to the side to glare at Eren. " Never Have I Ever, made someone abandon their friends over a misunderstanding." He says emphasizing each word of the game.

As Connie redirects his question towards Eren, the tension in the room thickens once again. Eren's expression tightens, his jaw clenching as he meets Connie's gaze with a mixture of defiance and unease. The atmosphere becomes charged with anticipation, each person holding their breath as they wait for Eren's response. Eren feels guilty, yes, however, he also hates the position Connie has put him in, with no way out.

Connie starts, flipping his paddle to 'I HAVE NEVER', and everyone else follows suit Now all that is left is Eren, and his mother being his mother can't help but want to interject in between this whole ordeal but gets stopped by Kuchel who whispers something to her that calms her down and makes her rethink her judgement.

Eren hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering with conflicting emotions. Finally, he flips his paddle to reveal the "I HAVE" side, his confession echoing loudly in the silence that follows.

"Go on then, tell the story." Connie prompts, his voice cutting through the silent and tense atmosphere like a knife. His eyes glared into Eren's side profile, sarcastic yet tinged with a hint of curiosity about how this would all play out.

"I. . ." Eren hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper as he gathers his thoughts. The weight of everyone's stare feels like a physical pressure on his shoulders, pressing him to reveal the truth, to confront the past he'd rather forget.

"It was a few years back," Eren begins, his voice strained with emotion. "I created a misunderstanding between someone close to me and the rest of my friends by manipulating an audio out of its original context, I was selfish and wanted everything about them to myself, their darkest secret, their secret hobbies, the little things that make them happy, I wanted that all to be confided in me, so I thought if I make her hate everyone else, maybe they'd promote me to being their best friend instead of just a friend."

As Eren's words hang in the air, a heavy silence settles over the room, each syllable of his confession echoing with the weight of his regret. You're practically hugging the tension by now, it's thick. You look at Eren as he pours his heart out, confessing to his crimes and hoping to be accepted again.

"And it totally backfired, The person I longed for, the person I wanted all to myself was gone within a few days, I gained nothing and lost everything," Eren continues, his voice trembling with emotion. "I let my own insecurities and desires cloud my judgment, and in doing so, I created a huge void between the friendship of many."

His admission is met with a mixture of reactions from those gathered around the table. Mikasa's expression softens with understanding, while Connie's features harden with resentment. Sasha looks on with a mixture of sympathy and disappointment, her gaze shifting between Eren and the others. You put two and two together, this is about you. This whole thing is about you,

"So yes, I did make someone abandon their friends over a misunderstanding, and yes, I dread it every day," Eren's voice wavers with the weight of his admission. His eyes flicker briefly to yours, a silent plea for forgiveness hidden within their depths, before he averts his gaze, unable to bear the intensity of the moment. "But if I had the chance to undo it all, I'd probably revert time back to when we were strangers so that I'd never be able to hurt them."

That hits you hard, you never thought he felt that way and blamed himself to that severity. You're just as awful as him, you never double-checked on your friends, you just went along with whatever Eren had manipulated leaving behind everyone. This includes Connie who looks at you to see the realisation form in your eyes and face. He smiles a genuine smile for the longest time in a while. He doesn't blame you one bit, all he wants is for you to come back.

"I'm sorry, truly. I'll head to bed first." Eren says, his voice filled with remorse as he rises from the floor. His gaze lingers on you for a moment, a silent plea for understanding evident in his eyes, before he turns and makes his way out of the room. His mother and Mikasa are quick to follow after him, this causes Historia, Ymir, and Sasha to also bid their goodnights to the Kuchel and go to their designated rooms for the night.

"Poor kids, the lot of you, hope you all figure it out peacefully." Kuchel begins before ruffling Levi's head and giving you a side hug. "I'm also a bit tired, so goodnight children."

As the others disperse for the night, leaving only Connie, Jean, you, and Levi in the room, a heavy silence settles over the space. The events of the evening weigh heavily on everyone's minds, casting a somber mood over the atmosphere.

Levi is the last to leave, mustering the courage to pat your back a bit. "I'll be in my office." if you need anything is what he leaves out but you understand, you finish it off for him in your head.

With a nod of gratitude directed to him, you watch him leave as he heads to his office. You make a mental reminder to tell him to go to bed later on.

"So now you know the truth," Jean begins, his voice somber as he looks at you with a mixture of sympathy and concern. "I'm sorry you had to hear all that tonight. It must be a lot to take in."

"Yeah a bit, but what's worse is having to see Eren blame himself that much over a trivial misunderstanding," you explain, frustration creeping into your voice.

"I'm sorry, what?" Connie scoffs, shaking his head as he looks at you with utter confusion written on his face. "Trivial? the same trivial that made you go no contact for 4 fucking years, [Name]."

"It wasn't trivial then," you admit, your voice softening as you recall the pain of those years. "Back then, my whole world was crumbling, but now it is trivial."

"Makes sense, I'm guessing you've evolved as 10 times more wonderful as you were before," Jean comments, his tone sincere as he offers you a supportive smile.

"It wasn't trivial for me, not all of these years, not one bit," Connie interjects, his voice firm and sincere, his eyes locked with yours. The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air as you curse yourself for your choice of words.

"Of course, I'm sorry," you respond, your voice softening with remorse. "In my eyes, you were in the wrong, not me, so it was easy to push myself past it. But since you're not anymore, I can't imagine how it must've been for you."

"When you apologize so sincerely, it's hard for me to stay mad at you," Connie admits, his tone softening as he looks at you with a mixture of relief and understanding. There's a glimmer of forgiveness in his eyes, a silent reassurance that he's willing to let go of the past and move forward with you.

You feel a weight lift from your shoulders at his words, a sense of gratitude washing over you for his willingness to forgive. "You've always been soft-hearted so no surprise there." you chuckle, grateful for his understanding.

"So you're all famous, how'd that miracle happen?" you inquire, changing the subject to something lighter and joking with them.

Connie chuckles, scratching his head. "Beats me, I just followed what me and you brainstormed on YouTube ideas and then instantly I gained views after view after views."

"Speaking of you, hope you won't sue us," Jean adds with a playful grin, "You practically produced every song on our albums"

"Well you know my name, isn't that enough credit?" you retort with a smirk, your tone lighthearted as you play along with the teasing.

"Apparently there's this whole law section to it, where we'd need to know where you are, your bank account, and other sticky law stuff."

"Right, well I can't really blame you then, Can I?" You yawn, feeling the fatigue creeping in after the long and emotionally charged evening. The weight of the day's events hangs heavily on your shoulders, and the warmth of nostalgia is slowly being replaced by the heaviness of exhaustion.

"Yeah, I guess not," Connie replies with a sympathetic smile, noticing your tired demeanor. "You should get some rest, [Name]. It's been a long day."

You stand up from the floor, feeling the weariness in your limbs as you stretch out the kinks from sitting for so long. With a tired but grateful smile, you nod at Connie and Jean, acknowledging their concern who are now also standing up.

"I need to catch up with Levi, so you guys go hit the beds first," you say, motioning towards the door. You feel a pang of guilt at the distance that has grown between you and your friends, wishing things could be as they once were, free of misunderstanding and conflict.

But before Connie and Jean can leave, you stop them in their tracks. "I'm sorry, Con," you say, your voice laced with sincerity as you reach out to hug them both tightly. "And you too, Jean. I've missed you guys more than words can say."

Connie and Jean return the hug with equal fervor, their embrace a comforting reminder of the bond you once shared. "I missed you more," Connie murmurs, his voice soft with emotion. "Yeah, it's good to have you back," Jean adds, his tone warm and welcoming.

"Okay, goodnight y'all before you make me cry," you say with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood as tears threaten to well up in your eyes. With a final squeeze, you release Connie and Jean from the hug, feeling a sense of warmth and gratitude wash over you at their understanding and forgiveness.

As they bid you goodnight and head off to their rooms, you watch them go with a renewed sense of hope and determination. You sigh in amazement at how everything is all aligned together, almost pre-written.

You head to Levi's office, but before you can enter, you notice the balcony door open, inviting in a chilly breeze from the snowstorm dying down. Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you find yourself drawn to the balcony, wondering who might be there and what might they be doing out there. With cautious steps, you approach the door and peek outside, finding Eren standing against the railing, gazing out into the night sky smoking a cig.

You hesitate at the threshold, the cool night air swirling around you as you watch Eren, his silhouette outlined against the moonlit sky. There's a heaviness in the air, a palpable tension that hangs between you, unspoken words lingering in the space like ghosts of the past.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, unsure of how to proceed. Part of you wants to retreat, to leave Eren to his solitude and spare yourself the agony of confronting the memories that flood your mind at the sight of him. But another part of you, a stubborn and persistent part, urges you to stay, to face him head-on and finally address the unresolved issues that have haunted you for so long.

As you step onto the balcony, the sound of your footsteps seems to echo in the quiet night air. Eren turns as he hears you approach, his movements stiffening as he stubs out his cigarette and mumbles an apology. His attempt to leave is met with your firm resolve, and you reach out to close the door behind you, cutting off any chance of escape.

"Eren, wait," you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging within you. "We need to talk."

He hesitates, his hand hovering over the door handle, his expression guarded as he meets your gaze. There's not much tension between you, he just feels guilty and the presence you're presenting yourself is welcoming and forgiving.

He nods slowly, his expression serious as he takes a step closer to you. "I know," he says, his voice tinged with regret. "There are things I need to say, things I need to apologize for."

"Let's do it then," you reply, your voice soft but resolute as you meet his gaze. "I'm listening."

Eren takes a deep breath, his eyes reflecting a tumult of emotions as he gathers his thoughts. "I want to apologize," he begins, his voice tinged with sincerity, guilt, and blame. "For everything. For the pain I caused you, for the misunderstandings, for the distance between us."

You feel a pang of sympathy at his words, recognizing the genuine remorse in his voice. "I appreciate your apology, Eren," you say, your tone gentle but firm. "But there's something I want you to understand."

He nods, his expression somber as he waits for you to continue.

"I honestly never blamed you or anyone else for that matter, yes I was a bit sad but I never held resentment against any of you. You shouldn't either."

Eren's somber expression softens, a flicker of surprise crossing his features at your unexpected confession. He takes a moment to process your words, his gaze searching yours for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, he lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, a weight lifting from his shoulders at your forgiveness.

"I'd never forgive me," he murmurs, his voice tinged with anger, only ever directed at himself. "But I still feel responsible, you know? Responsible for the pain I caused you and everyone but mostly you, for the years that went by all because of my actions."

"I'm past that, Eren. You should be too. Learn how to forgive yourself in this process." Your words seem to strike a chord with Eren, his gaze softening as he listens to your reassurance. He takes a moment to absorb your advice, his expression thoughtful as he considers your words.

"If it was anybody else, I think it'd be a bit easier to forgive myself. But it's you, [Name], and you're thousands of worlds apart from anyone else." He confesses, eyes looking down at the floor of the balcony as he avoids your gaze.

"If we want to move past this, You need to come to terms with the fact that we all make mistakes, Eren. It's how we recover from them." You remind him, your words hanging in the air until Eren fully understands them.

He chuckles, still staring at the ground as he thinks about how truly amazing you are. He can't believe he ever let someone like you out of his grasp. You're so kind and loving and welcoming and… and just perfect. He feels the insides of his sides tingle, either from the cold breeze of the wind or his admiration for you, he's unsure but he knows that he now has the chance to hold on to you a little tighter, a second chance at being your friend and that's a blessing he'll never take for granted again.

"Promise?" You ask, tilting your head downwards to get a good look at him.

"Promise" He replies, his voice filled with conviction. He swears to himself that he'll never wrong you again, even if his life is on the line. He's serious about you and won't let any more mistakes deter him from you.

"Then, c'mere." You say softly, your voice carrying a tenderness that melts away the remaining tension between you. Without hesitation, Eren steps forward, closing the distance between you as you wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace.

He misses this, misses you so much even though you're right there. He begins to hate himself even more on how many years he's deprived himself of your presence and before you even know it, he's full-on sobbing onto your shoulder. You feel bad for cooing and smiling, but it's nice knowing that someone missed you so much, that they'd cry by the physical touch of yours. It's endearing, very much so.

At that moment, you realize the depth of his longing, the magnitude of his regret, and the weight of his guilt. It's a bittersweet revelation, one that fills you with empathy and compassion for him. Despite the pain he's caused, you can't help but feel a swell of affection for him, a desire to ease his suffering and heal his wounded heart.

"C'mon now, why are you crying?" You ask, your words tinged with playful sarcasm. Deep down, you know the reason behind his tears, but you want to lighten the mood and offer him some comfort in a more casual manner.

Eren lifts his head from your shoulder, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he wipes away his tears with the back of his hand. He chuckles softly, a hint of sheepishness in his expression as he meets your gaze.

"I missed you," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "A lot."

You smile at his confession, feeling your heart swell with warmth at his sincerity. Despite everything that's happened between you, his words touch you deeply, reminding you of the bond you share and the strength of your friendship.

"I missed you too," you reply softly, your voice filled with understanding and compassion. "And I won't ever do that again, communication is key from now on."

"You good?" You ask as he stares at you for a while, still wiping his tears away with the back of his hand.

"Yeah,

"Alright, wanna head to bed then?" you ask, offering him a gentle smile. He nods in response, and together you step back into the warmth of the room, the chilly night air replaced by the comforting embrace of the indoor temperature.

"I'll see you tommorow, Eren," You say luring him in for one last hug before biding goodbyes. "Goodnight"

"Goodnight, [Name]," Eren replies, returning the hug with a warmth that speaks volumes. As you part ways for the night, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, one you didn't know you needed until a few minutes ago. It comes with a nice sigh of relief. You decide to go check on Levi before heading towards your own bed for the night.

You quiety make your way to his office, careful not to startle him, if that's even possible. Your footsteps barely make a sound as you approach the door. With a gentle knock, you announce your presence before entering, not wanting to startle him if he's in the middle of something important. But he doesn't seem to reply.

You enter Levi's office and are met with the sight of him peacefully asleep at his desk. His usually stern expression is softened in slumber, and there's a faint hint of neutrality expressed on his face. For a moment, you're tempted to take a picture to capture this rare moment of vulnerability, but you resist the urge, not wanting to disturb him or break his boundaries.

Instead, you quietly approach his desk, careful not to make any noise that might wake him. You take in the sight of him sleeping, admiring the way his features relax in sleep and the way his steady breathing fills the room with a sense of calm. You contemplate brushing his locks from his eyes but decide against it knowing he wouldn't be too comfortable with that.

As much as you hate to disturb his rest, you know he'll be more comfortable sleeping in a proper bed. With great care, you lean down and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving him a light shake to rouse him from his slumber.

Levi," you say softly.

He stirs at your touch, blinking sleepily as he slowly wakes up. He looks up at you, his gaze turning neutral as he takes in your presence.

"You'll get cramps sleeping like that."

Levi blinks a few times, still groggy from his nap, before his gaze focuses on you. He takes in your words, a faint frown appearing on his face as he realizes the situation. He doesn't like that you caught him sleeping, he feels embarrassed, which is unlike him so he immediately jolts up from his sleeping position and stands up.

"I was only resting my eyes, I was about to go."

Levi's sudden movement startles you for a moment, but you quickly recover, sensing his discomfort. You can tell that he's trying to brush off the situation, his tone casual as he tries to downplay his embarrassment. You play it off with him, wanting him to be more comfortable.

"Yeah, okay." You play along, offering him a reassuring smile to ease his embarrassment. "Anyways, I'm heading to bed so goodnight."

Levi mutters a brief "Goodnight" under his breath before nodding in your direction. He doesn't linger on the moment, swiftly gathering his things and preparing to leave his office. You can sense his desire to retreat into the solitude of his own space, and you don't want to intrude any further on his privacy.

As you head up the stairs and to your own designated room for the night, you wonder how things have become what they are right now, it all started with a little bit of confrontation and then everything resolved itself lke a knot being undone. You hope that everything stays the way it is but knowing how life is, that's more of a wish than anything else. As you feel your eyes become heavy, you wonder what tomorrow has in its stalls for you.

notes: i accidentally deleted after posting it this but thank god i have backups! tysm for reading and let me know if i should end it like this with a small drabble on how things worked out or if you want to continue with it and see how the red carpet event goes... also let me know if you want to be in a taglist (which is honestly so surreal to me >_<;)

divider credits: @hitobaby

#-͟͟͞☆and you're reading the latest euorian's documents-͟͟͞☆#୨୧・euorian-pdf・୨୧ #eren x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #aot angst #connie springer #eren yaeger x reader #connie x reader #eren jaeger #eren jeager x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi aot #levi x reader

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