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munson-blurbs · 4 months

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Argyle x Fem!Reader smut

Summary: Your plans tonight only involve ordering a pizza, but a conversation with the pizza boy has you craving something very different.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), phone sex, masturbation (m! and f!), voice kink, Argyle is a simp as per usual

WC: 1.7k

A/N: This was inspired by me and @word-wytch ordering pizza at Steel City Con where the pizza boy did not want to get off of the phone. Nothing spicy happened, but it made us think...what if it had?

Also, big shout out to @munsonmuses for helping me with the ending. Love you, Addie!

“Surfer Boy Pizza, this is Argyle speaking. Can I interest you in a delicious pie? Perhaps the Argyle Special?”

You stare at the shiny brochure in your lap, breath catching in your throat when you hear his voice. You were expecting someone brusque, rushing you off of the line so they can collect the next order, but the man speaking to you might as well be laying on a white sand beach.

“Um, h-hi,” you wince at the way you stammer, tempted to hang up and save yourself further embarrassment, but you keep the receiver pressed to your ear. Lenora Hills is a fresh start, a place where no one knows you, and you’re determined to spread your wings and become more than the ‘shy, awkward girl.’ So, even though you were going to order a small cheese pie, you push yourself to ask, “what’s the Argyle Special?”

Soft laughter trills from the speaker; it’s warm and welcoming without a hint of malice. “Oh, the Argyle Special? She’s kinda my baby.” Good lord, the way he says baby has your thighs clenching involuntarily. You hear him shuffling a bit, adjusting positions to get more comfortable. “So, we start out with your classic thin crust.” Argyle lowers his voice and adds, “You might think you can toss it in the air a coupla times and call it a day, but you’d be wrong. You gotta knead it, get all the kinks out, right?”

“Mhm.” Your free hand begins to dip below the waistband of your denim shorts before you pull back. What are you doing? Touching yourself to a stranger explaining how to make pizza? “I, uh, I gotta—”

“Next comes the sauce,” he continues, not noticing your interjection. “Now, less is definitely more here, y’know what I’m saying? A little goes a long way.”

You nod, too caught up in the moment to remember that he can’t see you. “A-And then what?”

“Cheese. Enough to achieve that perfect amount of gooey goodness, but not so much that it weighs down the slice.” Another peal of laughter, just as kind as the one earlier. “Some people ask for extra cheese, but in my humble opinion, it takes away from the rest of the toppings, y’know?”

There’s a quiet swishing sound coming from his end, and it draws your attention. “What’re you doing that’s making that noise?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, yo-yo.” Your question has clearly caught him off-guard; instead of further explaining his baby, he asks, “what’re you doing?”

Immediately, your thoughts flit to the way your fingers yearn to be inside you, the way your clit aches to be rubbed each time he talks. But he can’t know that. “N-Nothing. Um, yeah, nothing.”

You can practically hear his brows raise in disbelief. “Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Argyle teases gently. “In fact, it sounds like you’re doing something important.” He pauses for a second. “Lemme guess: top secret CIA mission?”

“No.”

“FBI?”

You giggle despite the embarrassment washing over you. “Not quite.”

There’s silence; his audible breathing is the only way you know he’s still on the line. “You got a really cute laugh.”

Is he flirting? This is flirting; it has to be. But he doesn’t even know what you look like.

You don’t know what he looks like, either, and you were about to masturbate to him, you remind yourself wryly. Anything’s possible.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Sweet but also sexy. A rare combo, if you ask me.”

You summon all of your courage; the ball is in your court. “I, um, I like your voice.” Heat pools in your cheeks as you say the words.

“My voice? Shit, I always thought it was kinda goofy. My friend Jonathan says I sound like Cheech and Chong. Well, not, like, both of them, but just…one.” A rustling noise; he’s shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m not good with getting compliments and stuff.”

“S’okay. Me either.” You laugh again, finding the ability to be honest refreshing. “Keep telling me about your special. Your baby,” you amend.

He exhales a cloud of lust. “Fuck, say ‘baby’ again.” Ah, so it had the same effect on him that it did on you.

This time, you don’t chastise yourself for the way your fingertips graze your cotton panties. You and Argyle are clearly on the same page. Why fight it? “Tell me more about the Argyle Special, baby.”

“I gotta know first if you’re doing what I’m about to do,” he says breathily.

“I am,” you affirm, finding your clit easily and applying the lightest pressure.

A sharp inhale, then, just above a whisper, “Good. So, so good.” He unzips his fly and groans as his hand wraps around his cock. “I’m just gonna talk, and you keep touching yourself for me, okay?”

“Mhm. Just…keep going.”

“Shit, yeah, I got you.” Another moan as he strokes himself, his sentences getting choppier. “The toppings…I like to combine sweet and—mmf—savory.”

You tug your panties aside, slipping your middle finger into your waiting pussy. “Keep going,” you urge, desperate for his silky voice.

“Some diced g-green pepper…sliced jalapeños…and…” Argyle’s focus is split between listing ingredients and jerking off, and one is evidently winning.

“And what, baby?” There’s a slight edge to your tone—dare you say, a sultriness—as your ring finger joins your middle, fucking yourself with both of them.

You’re not the only one who picks up on your newfound confidence. “And pineapple,” he manages. “Comes from a can…fuck, I can hear how wet you are.”

You whimper, forcing air into your lungs. Breathing has never been a manual task until right now. “It’s because of you.” Your fingers move faster; you curl them slightly to maximize your pleasure. “You and your voice.”

“I’d talk all goddamn day for you.” His voice is thick with desire. “I’d do anything you asked me to—oh, fuck,” he grunts. “What would you want me to do if I was with you right now?”

What wouldn’t you want him to do is an easier question, but you try to quickly formulate a response. “I-I’d want you to touch me.”

“More specific, honey,” he tuts. “Where do you want me touching you?”

Everywhere. Anywhere. You think about where your own hand would be if you weren’t holding the phone. “My clit,” you say urgently, “or my…my tits.”

“Mmm, I could put my mouth on one and my fingers on the—”

“No,” you insist, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Fingers only. Need to keep your mouth free so you can talk.”

A chuckle, then, “fair enough. Guess I’ll rub that pretty little clit of yours, huh? Make sure you’re ready f’me.” There’s a soft puh as he spits on his cock to lubricate it. “Wish I was inside of you. Bet you’re so wet…and warm…and—ohh, yeah— so tight…”

“I’m so close,” you whine, absolutely desperate for this orgasm. You tuck the phone between your ear and your shoulder, bring your newly-freed middle finger to your clitoris, now swollen with need. “Please, Argyle, tell me how you’d fuck me.”

“Oh, baby,” he rasps, the schlick of his fist stroking his erection becomes louder, faster. “I want you screaming my name. That sweet little pussy st-stuffed with my cock. And I’ll go deeper…and deeper…and deeper…until you can’t—fucking—take it!” He growls out the last four words.

It’s enough to drive you to the edge. You don’t tell him you’re cumming, but he knows just from the choked moans that you’re there. Your fingers are shiny with the proof of your arousal as you finish all over them, wishing they belonged to Argyle. Wishing you belonged to Argyle.

“I’m cumming, fucking shit, h-oh, my God.” He’s in another galaxy now, stars swirling around him as his release spurts from his aching tip and coats his hand in his sticky seed. “Holy fuckin’…whoa.” There’s a brief pause. “Gimme one sec, okay?”

Argyle’s racing across the kitchen, phone dangling from the cord, before you can even respond. “Sorry,” he says, panting and laughing when he returns to the receiver, “had to grab some paper towels and clean myself up. Can’t go walking around with jizz on my hands.”

“Not a good look,” you agree, the warmth from your giggle melting any residual awkwardness. “You definitely need to wash them, like, a hundred times before you make another pizza.”

“Nah, man; I’m actually clocking out now. You were gonna be my last customer, but, uh…” he trails off, and it occurs to you that you never finished placing your order. “We got a little distracted.”

Distracted is putting it mildly, but you’re in no headspace for a semantics debate. “I guess I’ll have to call back the next time you’re working and try again.”

“Y-Yeah, for sure!” Eagerness dominates his tone, and he tries to rein it in. “Or, um, maybe you can come by in person? I’d like to see the girl who made me cum harder than I have since…ever,” he adds cheekily.

“Mhm. I can do that.” Can you? Yes, you tell yourself, I can. I’m turning over a new leaf, and that apparently involves having phone sex with the pizza guy and then meeting him for the first time at his job.

You swear you hear a quiet yet triumphant, “yes!” before he says, “You sure? Because I’d totally get it if you wanted to keep this a one-time thing.” His hesitation indicates that he’s no stranger to unrequited pining, like he’s bracing himself for a rejection. “But I gotta be honest with you; I really wanna see you.”

“I wanna see you, too.” You wrap the springy cord around your forefinger. If his voice could make you feel this way, imagine what he could do with his fingers, his tongue, his…

“I work from noon until six tomorrow, if you wanna stop in?” Argyle cuts into your train of thought. “Or if that’s too soon, then we can just—”

“Argyle?”

“Yeah?”

You smile widely even though there’s no way for him to know that. “See you at six tomorrow.”

#argyle stranger things #argyle smut #argyle imagine #argyle x y/n #argyle #argyle x female reader #argyle x fem!reader #argyle x reader #argyle x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #argyle fanfic #smut

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imma-devil · 2 years

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Whole Lotta Love | e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Warning: 18+ Smut (MINORS DNI), Weed, Swearing

Summary: Eddie admires you and that admiration brought you from acquaintances to close friends. However, the two of you know that you feel something more. The question is, are you going to do something about it?

Tags: No use of (y/n), mentions of weed, swearing, pining, somewhat established friendship, a little friends to lovers, smut, some fluff, sub!Eddie, shy Eddie, gentle!dom!reader, oral (male!receiving), oral (female!receiving), handjob, spit as lube, grinding, dry humping, making out, face sitting :) , thighssss, biting, slight choking (male!receiving), consent is hot, aftercare is hot, hands free ;) , little proofreading.

Word count: 3,800+

Author’s Note: I was having a difficult time finding what I was looking for, so I just said “Fuck it,” and made my own.

Part 2

Please do not steal or copy my work. Don’t repost without credit. This is my written work everything besides the character belongs to me.

Eddie Munson was considered a freak among his classmates at Hawkins High. Generally, one would expect that this perception came from his loud outbursts in the hallways or when he stood on top of desks to announce his opinions to the world. However, people took one look at his zeppelin style with rings adorned on each finger and his hair cast in untempered curls to make their opinion. He didn’t worry himself over these misconceptions for the most part because he believed it was out of his control. At first, after his buzz cut days, he turned to the ‘rocker’ look to hopefully turn this around; when his results seemed to be lacking, he wielded his sense of style as a statement and wore it proudly once he grew further into his non-conformist attitude. But what he didn’t get, was why was it so different when it came to you? Your sense of style nearly mirrored his own―ripped jeans, ribbed shirts with faded band logos, jean jackets, and leather boots. Chains chimed while you walked. Your nails, plastered in a veil of black ink. You too had small tattoos that cascaded your skin. Yet, people were not nearly as unwelcoming as they were when it came to him.

You weren’t exponentially popular—you were no king Steve, Tommy H, or Chrissy Cunningham. But, you were well-liked―and you weren’t treated like the plague as often as he was. He had seen you laugh with band ‘geeks’ and have your arms around cheerleaders. He watched you jokingly argue with those on the basketball team and read quietly with members of the high school post. Yet, most often, he saw you alone.

The two of you weren’t friends, but you’ve certainly spoken before. In a small town, such as Hawkins, it would be impossible not to. But, you hadn’t spoken out of necessity―you had actually mingled. The first time you spoke was in elementary school, likely about something minuscule, like him asking you for a pencil. The first time you spoke in HIGH SCHOOL was when you caught him by surprise at his locker. You just happened to be passing by when you turned on your heel and got his attention. You complimented his Hellfire Club shirt and asked where he got it from―

Fleeting conversations were passed here and there. But, once the two of you started hanging out at the same scene together, puzzle pieces began to fall into place. Your friendship grew over the passing of joints... Cassettes were exchanged. Movies were watched. He wore one of your engraved rings on his pinky and you wore his blocky, metallic ring on your index finger. You helped him study for exams, listened to the recordings of his band, and smoked with him inside his trailer. Long, deep conversations were held atop his mattress while listening to Megadeth, Judas Priest, and Motorhead on his stereo.

―and it was that exact setting, which led you to where you were now. A beat-up, paperback copy of Doctors Wear Scarlett by Simon Raven was in your hand while you laid with your back to the mattress. Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin was playing through the stereo’s strained and garbled speakers... not that you could really make out the words―because Eddie was purposefully shouting over the lyrics in a whiny voice while plucking at the strings of his guitar. Every once in a while, he would chuckle at his own antics and lose composure, causing you to laugh along as well. For the majority of the song, you were too amused with Eddie’s singing that you simply mumbled along with the lyrics so that you could listen. But, you grew distracted and somewhat bored of the book and allowed yourself to belt out some of the lyrics in synch with the wild boy next to you. This almost instantly shut him up to where he abandoned his yelling so he could try and sing in tune with you. You shut your eyes and swayed your head into the lyrics while dramatizing your enthusiasm for the song. Eddie watched as your nose scrunched with your singing and he couldn’t help but smile at the observation.

He cast his hand over your face and gingerly placed his thumb upon your nose, using it to press your nose into a pig-like shape.

Instinctively you smacked his hand away, laughing lightly at the situation.

He watched as you placed your book down on the bed and rolled onto your stomach. Your eyes fell on the place where he was sitting up against the bedpost―and the position caused him to feel increasingly more self-aware.

“Play something,” you said through a slanted smirk.

“I don’t know,” Eddie teased while looking down, “―you put me on the spot here.”

“C’mon rockstar!” you egged on after playfully shoving his leg, “I wanna hear a song.”

Eddie hoisted himself up to where he sat straighter against the headboard and hovered his hand over the strings with lingering anticipation. After a moment’s hesitation, he began plucking the strings without tune or rhythm, occasionally adding in made-up lyrics along the way.

When your face fell into the mattress in a faux annoyance, he stuttered into a laugh.

You muttered out “Dumbass,” which was muffled by the comforter. But, Eddie was only amused by the empty insults. He eventually lowered his guitar to where it rested against his bedside table. With nothing left to do with his hands, he found himself twirling your ring on his finger.

A whole song played without either of the teens speaking any words into existence. You had spent those two minutes drifting your attention between the lyrics, the sound of a tv from across the lot, and the movements of the ring on Eddie’s finger. You registered that the ring was yours, but to confirm it, you reached out and stilled the motion of his hand with your own. With his skin beneath yours, you maneuvered his hand to take a closer look at the ring... and sure enough, it was yours. In a show of camaraderie, you curled your fingers into a fist to display his ring that was donned on your index finger. But, when you looked up to gauge his expression, you found the face of a man that seemed to be absolutely enthralled by your being. You were well aware that your feelings for one another were beyond friendship; whether those feelings were lust, or something more, was beyond you. If someone were to ask why you didn’t act on those feelings sooner―you wouldn’t be able to give a definitive answer. Perhaps, you wanted to preserve the friendship that you shared? However, since the opportunity presented itself, why not just take it?

So, with his hand still being held within yours, you lowered it to the mattress at his side. Your arm was crossed over his waist, and you used the momentum to pull yourself to a crouch with your face hovering over his. You paced yourself, allowing him plenty of time to reject the action. Though, you doubt he would, considering the way that his eyes are glued to yours with a sense of desperation and longing that's swirling within his irises. You ask anyway—

“Do you want this?” you spoke in a voice that was low and languid, but loud enough to be heard with clarity.

Eddie nodded with the slightest movement, which could’ve gone unnoticed.

With your face creeping closer to his, you watch as his gaze falls to your lips. “I need you to say it,” you whisper as tenderly as you can muster.

He shudders a breathy sigh before emitting a barely audible “...yes.” You watch as if he retracts in embarrassment. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and his eyes flit away for a moment.

Just as you close the distance, he grinds down on his bottom lip with his teeth in a display of control―as if he were reeling himself back in. But, then that same ferocity is transferred into the kiss that you share. You breathe him in for a moment, regaining control, as you force him to slow to your pace. You can feel his neediness through the quickening of his breath while his hand comes up to cup your cheek. His fingertips tease slightly at the hair on your neck. Eddie’s other arm hooks around the small of your back, subsequently pulling you close to where you sit on his lap. All the while, your lips work together and you feel the passing touches of your tongues as you lap at his muffled moans. Drawing each sound from his mouth is as easy as it is bringing a pencil to paper.

Your hand breaks away from the mattress to glide lightly across his skin. Traveling up his arm, pausing slightly to appreciate the rise of his chest, and slowing to a stop in order to caress the base of his neck. He cranes forward, seeking out your touch. A moan falls from his lips as you snug his neck further into your gasp; causing you to make a blissful sound as you quickly latch a kiss to his jaw. Apparently, the spot is sensitive, as he ruts up into you.

“Sorry,” He quickly apologizes. But, the eagerness of his words allowed him no time to adjust... so his voice came out weak and desperate.

Rather than give him a worded reply, you simply reciprocated the action. Using your hips, you rolled yourself onto the growing bulge in his tight jeans. Eddie’s response was a choked gasp, that he promptly muffled by clasping his teeth onto your shoulder.

“Fuck,” Eddie uttered into your shoulder with shaky fluctuations.

You repeated the action, enjoying how he pressed his face further into the crook of your neck.

You pushed away some of his curls, to further reveal the expanse of his exposed neck. Peppering it with kisses, each one growing wetter and more lasting, before you finally sucked on the pulse beneath his skin. Eddie was beginning to meet your hips with perfectly timed, slow thrusts... and he resigned himself to becoming a moaning mess. So instead of hiding his pleasured sounds, he opted to let his mouth hang open and you felt his warm, needy breaths fan against your neck.

You loved listening to the small curses that drifted along with the air, getting lost in the music from the stereo.

All Eddie could focus on was the heat that was repeatedly grinding against him, your lips and tongue working against his skin, and the buzzing in his ears that was seemingly melting his brain. It was like his senses were going haywire, so all he could do to ground himself was relentlessly nip and kiss at the skin that was available to him. Each time he heard your breath hitch, he grew more desperate and came further undone beneath you. So when you suddenly stopped moving against him, he couldn’t help the whine that was ripped from his throat.

Before he could plead for you to continue, you whispered with a breathy voice that mirrored his own cracking composure. “Do you want to take this further?”

“Yes!—” the word practically leaped off his tongue and another string of yeses followed, each showing more longing and making you more aware of the ache that he felt.

You both didn’t seem capable of moving away from one another, but with one look at Eddie’s blown-out pupils, it was like your composure was restored. You prided yourself in the mess that you made him become. So, despite the damp and seething heat that you felt, you took it slow. So. Very. Slow.

You popped open the button of your jeans, leaning back on your weight, which in turn caused him to release a groan. You broke away for a moment to remove your pants, in which Eddie did the same in record time. The movement―having caused him to lay down rather than be seated. If it weren’t for the stagnant tension, you would’ve laughed at the way his hands flew to his belt and ripped it from the loops of his jeans. How his fingers launched at his zipper and yanked the fabric from his legs. Once his legs were bare besides his briefs, you mounted his waist again. This time his eyes shot to your underwear and he gingerly slid his hands to your thighs. His unwavering stare should make you nervous, but his unfiltered desire simply goads you on. He hooks both of his thumbs beneath the fabric, pulling it ever-so-slightly to where it tightens into the skin but reveals the bareness of your thighs. It’s as if he’s teasing himself with the glimpse of you, and it's one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.

You place your hand on his abdomen just above his waist, and he jolts at the sudden stimulation. He looks up at you and nearly swoons at the smirk on your face. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was blushing—so he rests his arm over his face to hide whatever embarrassment that could be seen in his features. But it quickly becomes a way to control himself when you slip your fingers beneath his shirt and grind your nails up his skin. The further you reach, the more you lean on his throbbing cock, and once again his breath is picking up, and he doubts you haven’t noticed.

Your hand lingers for a moment, traveling along his chest, applying pressure to just the right places, before it comes back down. Slowly trailing down his torso and reaching his lower stomach. He thought you’d stop there, but your fingers hook in the seam of his briefs and he could swear that he stopped breathing. And, just while he was so focused on the left hand, your right comes up his leg in a gentle caress. The very tip of your nails, skim the sensitive area of his inner thigh and he flinches. You chuckle at the reaction―and instantly Eddie becomes simultaneously the horniest and most humiliated person alive. He buries his face deeper into the curl of his arm to the point where he could suffocate himself if he wished and strongly grips your thigh in his other hand. He can’t see you, but he feels it when you lift yourself off of him and sit further down his legs. The movement distracts him, so when you palm him through his briefs, he hisses into his arm. He grinds up to meet your hand as you hear him sigh into the motion―and he’s too caught up in the one sensation that he still lingers on it, even as you pull down his waistband. His dick springs forward to land against his abdomen, where you hear a damp slap from the precum that’s weeping from the tip; which is an angry pink, begging to be touched.

Eddie wouldn’t lie, he definitely felt a little shy at the fact that he was so exposed to the girl that he had been crushing on for longer than he could remember. He had admired you from afar for so long. When you became friends, he never expected that the two of you would be here—even with the constant flirting, it had only ever been a game. So, with his face still tucked in his arm, he moved it the slightest bit so that he could see you through a space where he’d still be hidden from view.

He watched as you took one finger, and pressed it into the leaking liquid. When you pulled it away, a string of it followed... and he throbbed when he saw you take the fluid into your mouth. He moaned in anticipation as he watched you swipe your hand with your tongue—and the moan only grew when you brought that same hand to his cock. With one pump, you brought your hand to the base and his hips slowly coiled up to meet the friction. With your other hand, you pushed against his waist to bring him back down to the bed, and he groaned defiantly.

His eyes gave you their undivided attention when you hovered your face, lined up with him in your hand. He watched with an unbroken stare as a dribble of spit fell from your mouth and the warm texture coated his dick. His mouth lay open in a silent moan, which was revitalized as soon as your hand was set into motion. Your name tumbled from his lips, abandoned at the last syllable because his voice was lost in a whine. His neck strained backward and he revealed his face from behind his arm because he used it to card his fingers through his hair.

You pumped in slow movements, twisting your grip at the head, sounding lewd noises, which worked harmoniously with his haggard breaths. Each time your hand hooked beneath the head, his core muscles twitched, creating a wonderful sight to play witness to. Eddie still tried to fuck into your hand, but his pleasurable moans turned into frustrated ones when your other hand kept him from doing so. He closed his eyes for a moment to bask in the sensation—but quickly made himself vulnerable when you ran your tongue up the underside of his cock in one fluid movement. His whole body jolted and he gasped—turning into a string of low, breathy moans when you took him into your mouth. You continued to stroke the base of him with your hand—loving the sounds that emitted from him.

“Ugh— God,” he groaned with his eyes screwed shut. His voice hollowed to whisper, “...Just like that.”

Eddie lost himself for a moment, rubbing his eyes with his ring-clad hand, and letting his fingers clasp in a tuff of his curly hair. But, by sheer force of will, he clung on to any senses that he could find.

“...wait.” he croaked, “Wait—don’t!”

You slowed to a stop, then pulled him from your mouth with a questioning and concerned gaze. “What’s wrong?”

With the most unconvincing voice ever, Eddie groaned out: “I don’t wanna cum.”

His eyes were shut in both pleasure and an attempt at self-control. One of his hands reached out in your direction, searching for you. You were caught up in the sight of his heavy rising chest, but you met his touch with your hand. You could feel his gentle pull, and you realized that he wanted you to move with him. You followed his guiding tug to sit on his chest—and you were about voice your confusion until he lifted you to sit above his face in one, unexpected display of strength.

“I want you,” He said, finally opening his eyes for you to see that his brown irises were cast over fully in a dark shadow of lust. His eyes were lidded, his eyelashes long and far too pretty that you didn’t catch yourself before you brushed over them with your thumb.

Eddie pulled on your panties, though not fully, still awaiting your permission.

“Go ahead, pretty boy...” You smiled warmly down at the pussy whipped man beneath you.

He hummed in approval before tugging your panties aside. You could feel him rut up into nothing, just by seeing you. Both of his arms embraced your thighs, where he guided you into a snug seat upon his face. He lapped at your heat, groaning at the taste, before all but burying his tongue into you. His tongue moved at a steady pace, curling inside of you; his own hips thrusting in a synchronized motion while his imagination substituted his tongue for his throbbing dick. You could feel the vibrations of his moans and occasional curses. The fact that he was feeling so much while treating you was charging the neural impulses in your brain; each shuddering breath, each moan, each whine, and each crane of his hips was making his tongue feel all the better. Moans started to pool out from you with each sound that he made—

He was riding on the high of his brain melting while he laid between your thighs; and he thought that if you moved just a little closer, he would float on the welcomed lack of oxygen. Which is why he used his arms to press himself into you, the veins beneath his skin straining to keep you close. He could just barely feel the waistband of his briefs against the base of his aching cock, and he searched desperately for any friction while he rutted up against the fabric. He thought of how you’d feel, engulfing him within your warmth, holding you close as he spent himself inside of you. His eyes rolled in the back of his head just thinking about it.

“Eddie—” You said with a voice that was breathy, yet filled with grit. “I’m close.”

His hips stuttered with those two words.

You jolted into a moan—which was low and drawled out like a purr—His name on your tongue and your fingers tangled in Eddie’s hair. You came to, just in time to see Eddie’s eyes roll back in his head as he lapped up what you had to offer.

When he finally unlatched himself from you, his breath was coming out in loud pants. It took you a moment to notice the ashamed look in his eyes, but once you did, you immediately took action.

Rising away from his face slightly, you took his cheek in your hand. “Eddie, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond, instead, he gave a guilty smile and turned into the side of your thigh as if to peek out from behind it.

You were about to fully get up so you could grant him some space, but he promptly held you in place. You began to notice that he was blushing—the tip of his visible ear was turning bright pink and his cheeks were dusted in the same shade. Somehow, it clicked for you...

“...Did you— cum?” You asked, pausing to allow a smile to creep onto your face.

Eddie simply buried his face further—this time, causing his hair to cover the remnants of his face that your thigh could not.

You could tell, he felt embarrassed and somewhat self-conscious about what had happened. So, rather than teasing him about it, which you would definitely do in a less sensitive situation, you coddled him a bit. Leaning down, you placed a feather-light kiss on the top of his head. When he remained hidden, you kiss him again...and again...and again... and eventually, he was coaxed out of his shell.

“I think it’s hot,” you cooed through a smirk.

Eddie groaned, smooshing his face as he rubbed it with his hands. Remnants of a blush, still strong on his skin.

“―like really... really hot” You grinned, kissing the hand that covered his face.

He groaned again, though you could tell he was smiling.

After a slight pause, you reached forward and gripped each of his hands in one of your own before clearing them from his face. You held them down above his head and gazed lovingly into his eyes...His eyes still reflected insecurity, but you met his lips with yours, hoping to convey your feelings in a warm kiss. He did his best to intertwine his fingers with yours, smiling when he felt your rings clink together.

#eddie munson #stranger things #friends to lovers #smut #female!reader #reader imagine #dom!reader #gentle dom #dom/sub #sub!eddie munson #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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zoeykallus · 9 months

Note

Hey I absolutely love your writing and wanted to ask you if you could do a batch ,rex,Wolffe,Gregor Howzer x reader

I just had my finals and I absolutely nailed it

I got one of the best scores in my country and will be able to go to every University I want and my family celebrated with Champagne (my parents sister aunt etc.) what would my clone and I do and how would they act in such a family moment (the first or second time they see my parents and don’t know my other family members)

I would really love to see this and you would make me so happy.

Aloha!

Firstly, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get here! Secondly, CONGRATULATIONS! That's so awesome! I'm proud of you and so are our clone men 😁

The Bad Batch/Rex/Wolffe/Gregor/Howzer x Reader HCs - Proud Family Moment

Mostly Fluff

_________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

Hunter

He is so happy for you! Hunter is very proud, but also a little nervous to meet your family. He dresses up neatly and brings souvenirs for everyone. He wants to make a good impression.

Flowers, chocolates, champagne, even balloons for you. Even though he might get some critical looks at first, among other things because of his rather conspicuous tattoo on his face, his smart, calm, and kind nature quickly wins over your family.

The way he treats you and looks at you, full of respect, pride and affection, quickly catches everyone's attention. He cares for you, reads your every wish from your lips. Hunter has quickly won not only your heart.

You are the center of the attention, and Hunter is happy to see how happy you are.

Echo

He may seem a little stiff at first, but that's because he's nervous and wants to do everything right. He is immensely proud of you. Echo has brought food, homemade of course, only the finest and other small gifts for you and your family.

It takes a little while, but he finally thaws out and feels really comfortable with you and your family. He even exchanges a few recipes with your aunt and has a pleasant man to man conversation with your father.

Echo feels honored that you and your family let him participate in this moment, and he also thanks you, very solemnly with a little speech in which he also speaks very proudly, about you and your success, which is applauded and well received by everyone.

Wrecker

The hearty giant takes all hearts by storm. He makes jokes, takes care of the drinks for everyone and every time your eyes meet, he beams at you proudly, lovingly.

Your family likes him very much, he is so open and warm. He is not too shy and quickly gets into conversation with people. He speaks highly of you, how much he likes you is more than obvious, and this goes down well with your family.

Wrecker is very grateful for the invitation, he likes that you include him, he likes to be a part of you, your life.

You don't have to worry about anything today, Wrecker serves you from front to back, and he does it with pleasure.

"Let me do that for you!" he says and gets you something to eat, "I'm so proud of you, sweetie".

Tech

He is incredibly proud of you. Tech has often studied with you and gone through your study material with you.

At the party with your family, however, he is unusually quiet at first, afraid to say the wrong thing or to make a mess with his special way. But he gradually thaws out. His gentle, intelligent manner is very well received.

He talks a lot and your family asks a lot of questions, fascinated by the knowledge Tech carries around with him.

His smile is small, almost gentle, but his eyes light up every time your eyes meet. Tech is very proud of you and incredibly grateful to be here to celebrate with you and your family. He's never had much of a real family, aside from his brothers, but this feels like home.

Crosshair

You could not persuade him to come to the family celebration. Crosshair wrestled with himself for a long time, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He is just not ready yet. However, that doesn't change the fact that he is incredibly proud of you.

You have a date for the evening, after the party. Corsshair is there much too early, waiting on the street corner with a feeling in his stomach as if he had swallowed a big stone. He feels he let you down when he declined the invitation.

He waits until you come out, waves to you. Crosshair has flowers for you and a fancy bracelet, a small gift for the successful graduation.

"Are you mad?" he asks as you smile and put on the bracelet.

You look at him questioningly.

"What, why?"

"Because I wasn't at the ceremony," he says meekly, still feeling the rock in his stomach.

You kiss his cheek and say, "No Cross, I'm not. You're not ready, and that's okay."

A small smirk appears on his lips.

Rex

He is so proud, has told everywhere about it, no matter if people want to hear it or not, somehow he always manages to slip your degree into a conversation.

You're already afraid people won't like you anymore because they're constantly being chatted up about you by him.

Of course, he comes to the family party. Disciplined, polite and decent as Rex is, he is well received by your family.

He pushes chairs, helps people out of their jackets, pours drinks for the women present, and is, as always, a gentleman. He quickly becomes the center of attention, even when he doesn't want to be. Every now and then he throws you a wry smile or a wink, while your aunt hangs on his arm and asks him a thousand questions.

You can't blame her, how could anyone not like Rex?

Wolffe

Oh, he is very proud of you, very happy about your success. But he would rather celebrate with you alone.

At first, he doesn't really want to come to the family party, he thinks he would only disturb them, but you can persuade him. Of course, he has flowers for you and a bottle of fine, sweet wine from Naboo.

The stoic, serious Wolffe is looked at quite critically at first, partly because he seems so gloomy and serious. But he and your father strike up a conversation, and slowly the good Wolffe thaws out. You watch them for a while and are fascinated by how lively they talk, they seem to get along very well.

Wolffe's gaze briefly wanders to yours, he smirks and winks at you, his way of saying that it was a good idea for him to come along.

Gregor

He is enraptured, totally thrilled.

"That's great, I'm so proud of you!" he exclaims, twirling you around.

Of course, he comes along to the family party. Gregor is just a little shy for a moment, but quickly finds his way in and into various conversations with your relatives. You hear his sweet giggle over and over and smile in satisfaction.

He helps your father at the barbecue, in between handing out drinks, happily contributing and already feeling almost at home himself.

He is so gentle and at the same time full of energy that you can only watch him grinning. Gregor beams at you as your eyes meet. Gregor is very proud of you and very happy to be here and celebrate with you and your family.

Howzer

You are so disappointed. Howzer canceled at short notice, an unexpected mission is coming up, and he has to leave the planet. Actually, you are still happy, you are proud, and rightly so. But the fact that Howzer had to cancel at such short notice drags your mood down quite a bit, against your will.

With a sigh you enter the house, having bought some cake, when you see that everyone is in the garden. And if your eyes don't deceive you, Howzer is there too. You hurry outside and stare at the people present, your family, Howzer.

There is a large pavilion set up in the garden, a buffet table, benches and tables, all decorated with balloons and flowers.

It turns out Howzer lied to you to surprise you, he planned all this with your family behind your back from the start, got the decorations, seating, drinks and the pavilion.

He beams at you, "Congratulations sweetie, we are all very proud of you. Sorry about the little white lie."

You push the cake into your aunt's hands, who almost drops it, and you fall around Howzer's neck, who hugs you warmly.

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applejuicefruit · 1 year

Note

Can you write being Neymar’s daughter and having a panic attack when he bring you to a party with all the football player and him noticing when it was kinda too late? Like reader hates being in public

thank you 💓💓💓

Hiii thank you for requesting this ❤️

I hope you like it ⭐️

tw: anxiety and panic attack

Breathe for me

Having a football player as a father meant that you were always under the spotlight, something you really hated. You were shy, introvert and hated the spotlight. The complete opposite of your father Neymar, who was always under the spotlight and he loved all the attention he received.

Tonight you should be attending a football event with your father and it didn’t matter how many times you begged him to stay home, he wanted you to come.

So while you had the stylist touching and working you, your father came out of nothing and stayed with you while you were getting ready.

“Do you really have to stay here dad?” you asked a bit annoyed

“Of course, I love when your mad, you always make the cutes faces” he said laughing but stopped when he saw you were actually mad

“Dad I don’t want to go…you don’t need me anyway” you tried to talk to him but he didn’t wanna hear it

“Yes of course I need you, you’re my plus one! What kind of father would I be if I left my daughter alone during one of the most important nights of my life?” he asked you knowing how much this night meant for your father

“I’d be the happiest daughter if you left me home alone” you joked with a smirk “I’ll make this sacrifice for you dad”

“Thank you princess! I’m gonna get ready, I’ll wait you downstairs” and with that he left.

You went downstairs 20 minutes later. You were ready, you were wearing a beautiful long and sleeveless gold dress, the one every kid dream’s of, like a real princess.

But you had a sense that this night would have been anything but magical.

It happened so many times that interviewers made you uncomfortable bombarding you of questions, very inappropriate questions and your father’s bodyguard having to shield you everytime you went to some kind of events because of the crazy fans trying to get pictures of you.

You breathed in and let all your stress go away, or at least, you tried.

While you were in the car your dad was humming a soft song in the background while the driver drove through the trafficked city.

“Are you excited?” your dad asked you out of nothing

“You have no idea” you responded in a sarcastic tone that made him laugh a bit

“It’s gonna be fun princess”

“Yes sure…for you”

“For you too! I mean Kylian’s gonna be there and I know you two are great friends, so Hakimi is gonna be there too! You’ll be having a lot of fun!” he said while pinching your cheek and you tried to remove his hand away

“If you say so…”

“Yes princess trust me” he said and you remained silent.

Your anxiety rising. Just the thought of being in a large crowd made you sick.

You put those thoughts aside because when you arrived you had to walk down the red carpet with your father.

“Are you ready?” he asked you excited before getting out of the car

“No…” you said truthfully, your heart pounding so much in your chest you thought it was going to explode

“Let’s go!” he said laughing. But you weren’t laughing. You were worried. You tried everything you could for not crying.

While on the red carpet you tried to avoid photographers but your dad grabbed you by the hand and made you pose with him.

The flashes of the cameras where blinding you, you had no idea how famous people could handle all of this.

Only thirty minutes after you were allowed to enter the building, leaving the chaos of the red carpet behind and you breathed a bit when you got into the huge and magnificent palace where the event was heading.

You got into your seat next to your dad only to see other photographers and interviewers coming for your dad.

You tried to avoid them but your dad kept you close to him and in that moment you were cursing him. You just wanted to leave.

“Y/n are you happy to be here?” one of the journalist asked you and you simply nodded but he continued asking you questions and you were getting so nervous you couldn’t talk.

You hoped your dad would sense your discomfort but instead he gave you a simply smile and went on with his interview.

“Excuse me” you said to your dad “I have to use the restroom” you used an excuse trying to leave that situation that was making you really uncomfortable.

You left the main room and went to the empty corridor that connected all the other rooms.

“Y/n” Kylian called you coming out from the restroom “are you okay?” he asked you and you simply nodded, not trusting your voice in that moment. You knew you were going to have a panic attack in a moment and it didn’t matter how much you need support every time it happens, you just wanted to be left alone.

“Are you sure? Do you want me to call your dad?” he asked you again and the moment he mentioned your father you broke down crying. Where was he when you needed him?

“Hey hey y/n breathe…” Kylian come at you helping you stand because your legs almost gave up on you “Achraf go and call Neymar!” he shouted at someone who looked like Achraf but you couldn’t picture it because of the tears in your eyes.

You had your hands on your chest and you tried to copy Kylian but you couldn’t focus, you were gasping for air, your eyes full of tears and your had a bit dizzy.

“Y/n stay with me…breathe with me” Kylian said when he saw you were getting a little pale but you couldn’t focus.

“Kylian what’s going on?” someone who sounded like your father shouted behind you

“Y/n can’t breathe! I think she’s having a panic attack…” Kylian said still trying to help you

“Baby baby hey breathe with me” your dad said to you but you couldn’t listen “y/n honey please calm down…open your eyes, I’m here, dad is here” when you heard his calming voice you opened your eyes and saw his worried look “there you go…try to copy me, in and out” he showed you and after a while you calmed down, still crying but your breath came back to normal. You got everyone scared for a moment.

“I’m so sorry dad” you said hugging him and he couldn’t help but feeling guilty

“I’m sorry honey, it’s my fault…you wouldn’t be in this position if I didn’t convince you to come, I should have listen to you” he said honestly and yes, part of you wanted to blame him because you told him so many times you didn’t want to go but the other part of you just wanted to feel safe and protected in his father’s arms.

“It’s okay dad…I just wanna go home”

“Of course honey, let’s go” he said helping you stand up

“You can stay if you want to”

“Absolutely not! You’re health is more important that any football event! You’re my priority so we’re gonna go home, we’re gonna order food and then watch a movie, how’s that sounds?”

“It’s perfect” you said looking at him still tearing up a bit.

On the way out you thanked Kylian and Achraf for what they did. Kylian might have saved your life that day.

While you were in the car, driving back home you fell asleep to tired about the events that just occurred. Your dad, who sat next to you smiled a little when he saw you asleep and placed a kiss on your cheek.

“Sweet dreams princess” he said to you while he stroke your hair a little bit.

You ended the night in the most beautiful and calmest way and you couldn’t be more comfortable.

#neymar one shot #neymar angst #neymar fluff #neymarjrxreader #neymar x reader #neymar #neymarjr x reader #neymar junior #neymajr #neymar imagine #psg #paris saint germain

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multi-fandomsfreak · 4 months

Note

Hi, I have an MX request if you’ll accept it..

So you know how Lord X and MX are canonically best friends. Imagine MX introducing his girlfriend aka the reader who is the total opposite of him to Lord X. Like MX is a vicious, apathetic, ruthless, and manipulative person while Reader is very shy, kind-hearted, empathetic and sweet. So this confuses Lord X because reader seems like the definition of innocence and Lord X definitely finds this relationship weird because of MX’s usual catchphrase. “Innocence doesn't get you FAR...” but it seems like MX likes Reader’s innocent nature. It’s like MX is a whole different person when Reader is around and don’t even get me started on how overprotective this mf is over reader but all in all Lord X is fine with this relationship because he can use reader against MX. (Ex: MX does something Lord X hates. Lord X will be like: “I’ll tell reader what you did.” and MX is just running after Lord X and shouting at him to not tell reader.)

Like their relationship dynamic is literally: Sweet Baby x Literal Demon.

(Also use She/Her pronouns please 😊)

Anyways that’s it.. I hope you’re doing okay and please remember to eat something and drink some water and take breaks from the computer to avoid eyestrain.

Being In A Relationship With MX

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

I suprisingly had some fun writing this. I find it funny at the thought of MX chasing after Lord X like over Lord X snitching on him. Also it was interesting writing how MX would be in a relationship. Hope you enjoy it. ~J/Blaze

Pronouns: She/Her

Warning: ⚠️Stalking + Possessive Behaviour + Blackmail⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: MX + Lord X

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Art by Deadtos on DeviantArt + Banner by Kaileyfln on Pinterest

———————————

- Honestly I’m surprised you even managed to get someone like him. MX someone who is considered a beast, feared by many and known for doing anything from being manipulative and straight up being ruthless to anyone or anything in his way and here he was being an absolute sweetheart to you who was the complete opposite compared to him. Many people have questioned how and why you were dating him and you didn’t really know yourself. But he treats you with respect so you do the same in return.

- Sometimes he even questions himself about the irony of this relationship. The fact that one of his iconic catchphrases is ‘Innocences doesn’t get you far’ and yet is dating someone who is the definition of innocence and words related to it. This thought literally hits him at the most random points and even more when the two of you are hanging out. He doesn’t even know why but even though he constantly says this to his victims to which you would assume he doesn’t like innocence, he actually really likes it that you are. He can’t really explain or give a reason except that ‘she’s an exception’ which only confuses the fuck out of people.

- I’m just going to say this here and I don’t care what y’all say but MX is great hugging material, even if he isn’t used to receiving or reciprocating them due to how he is a being. The only reason I think this is because of his large figure, hugging him is like hugging a massive stuffed bear. Although I did say he isn’t used to receiving or reciprocating them that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do them or hate it. He likes it a lot especially when you do it because he believes it shows that you trust him despite his behaviour outside of your guy's relationship.

- Yours and his relationship is basically as said in the request is literally Sweet Baby x Literal Demon. You have literal scary dog privileges when you're around MX. You don’t have to worry about getting into trouble or getting harm when he’s around, people would be too scared to do so and even if they did well he’ll make sure they won’t do it again.

- He’s extremely protective over you, he constantly has to be around you like a massive bodyguard rarely letting you out of his sight for a moment unless you absolutely have to be and even if this situation happens he’s not that far behind you. One time you even found him peeking around the corner just staring at you like he was stalking you. Well he was but shut up that’s not the point. He often treats you like a fragile item, making sure there’s nothing that could harm you. Even being extremely careful himself with his own strength around you making sure he doesn’t hurt you. He’s aware of his strengths and how strong he is compared to you and to him it would be an absolute shame if anyone especially him breaks (to him at least) ‘an antique doll’.

- Even though it took a long time due to his protectiveness over you and in his own way worrying over what might happen to you he figured that he could introduce you to one of his best friends which just so happens to be the well known sadistic hedgehog Lord X. It’s not like he hasn’t told him, he has told him about your existence but not in grave detail. Initially when first hearing about MX having a girl let alone dating said girl he was surprised himself. This mostly resulted in Lord X teasing him through jokes to which MX told him off for it. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t happy for him, of course he was happy it was his best bud we are talking about. In fact when he heard about him wanting to introduce you to him he was over the moon immediately asking a million questions about you and what you can do, assuming that you were someone like him.

+ As soon as he saw his friend arrive he immediately went up to greet him “MX! Welcome back old pal” Lord X said with his iconic smirk on his face to which MX returned the favour with the slightly scared you right by him taking in every detail of the messed up hedgehog “Nice to see you again Lord X” MX tipped his hat down as a way to greet him “so where’s the lucky girl? Will she be here soon?” Lord X immediately asked about his girlfriend, which was you not realising that you were already here “she’s already here.” He said placing a hand on your shoulder which caused Lord X to look oddly confused before looking to where his hand was going and immediately spotted you. “Lord X meet [Name], [Name] meet Lord X.” He introduced the two of you to each other. Lord X took a moment to look at you creating a slight tension for you, worrying about what he was thinking. Before long he slightly chuckled to himself before speaking up “A human? Your Girlfriend is a human? Well this is a surprise” he said which caused MX’s face switch to annoyance “Yeah? You got a problem with it?” He asked in a tone that was slightly threatening towards his friend which caused Lord X to laugh it off “No, No of course not pal. Just a little surprised” he gave him a smile before approaching you “regardless it’s a pleasure to finally meet you [Name].” He offered his hand for you to shake to which you did “yeah…same here”

- Surprisingly the two of you get along, despite you two being opposite personalities just like MX. He likes to joke about your relationship with his friend. Mostly teasing MX but occasionally roping you in as well. Occasionally the teasing/jokes range from how completely different you two are to slightly more suggestive jokes. But regardless he doesn’t mind the relationship. Surprisingly he finds it cute, in his way. The fact he can see his friend instantly go from a murderous beast to a massive teddy bear around you honestly makes him laugh sometimes. Seeing how lovey dovey he is around you he can’t help but tease him.

- He definitely blackmails MX about this. Do you know that video by a YouTuber named Slashest with the video being named ‘Cooper2723 is back…” ? If you’ve watched it then I can basically imagine going somewhere like that. Lord X knows that MX is soft around you and doesn’t want to be separated from you. If MX does something he doesn’t like and wants him to stop, all he has to say is “you know…it would be a shame if [Name] was told you were doing this?” This instantly shuts him up. He doesn’t know why he reacts like this. He’s much more powerful compared to you but the thought of possibly getting trouble by you, it makes him scared. Well scared is a bit of an exaggeration when it comes to him but regardless he starts to feel nervous and doesn’t want to escalate it so he stops.

- Sometimes Lord X actually goes through with it even if MX stops or not. As soon as that sentence leaves his mouth he instantly starts heading to where you are, with an angry yet nervous MX chasing behind him. Surprisingly, begging him to not tell you. Sometimes Lord X has actually succeeded in telling you which creates a sulked MX, arms crossed mumbling apologies for his behaviour to you as you gently pat his back hugging his side as a way of telling him you forgive him or that he doesn’t have to apologise. Lord X and MX behave like two kids with one ready to snitch on the other.

- Overall, yours and his relationship is actually pretty wholesome despite who he is.

———————————

#mx #mx x reader #mx mario #mx mario x reader #mario pc port #mario pc port x reader #mario.exe #mario.exe x reader #lord x #sonic pc port #sonic.exe #super mario #super mario x reader #x reader #request

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marchtomydrums · 2 years

Text

You're Mine

Cornelia Goode x Mina Venable x Billie Dean Howard x Reader

You hated parties they just weren’t your thing. There were always too many people, loud music, and people who can’t handle their alcohol. Overall it was a no for you but Billie loved parties. Especially ones where she was the guest of honor. It was the anniversary of her show and the whole cast, crew, and their families were invited. That’s how she managed to drag you, Cordelia, and Mina along with her.

Cordelia didn’t seem to mind she was happy to be out with her girls. She made you dance with her a few times. But mostly you sat next to Mina. The redhead told you to go have fun with Delia and Billie but you told her you’d much rather be with her. Mina understood that parties weren’t your thing because they weren’t hers either. But we do things for the ones we love even if it’s things we don’t want to do.

Cordelia had just come back to the table with some drinks for you and Mina as you watched Billie float across the room. This was her element. She loved the attention she was receiving. You didn’t mind, she was absolutely beautiful and brilliant she deserves the attention. However, you noticed a young blonde girl following her around. She clung to Billie's side all night. Laughing loudly every time your girlfriend spoke. Her hands would linger just a little too long on Billie's arm. Her gaze would wander up and down Billie’s body. You didn't like this.

“Who is that girl?” You asked your girlfriends. They gazed over at the girl in question.

“Oh, that’s Julie. She’s one of Billie’s assistants.” Cordelia says.

“Okay well, Julie is getting on my nerves.” You grumbled.

The older women chuckled.

“I’m serious why is she touching her?” You asked glaring in their direction.

The older women were shocked by your reaction. Out of the four of them, you were typically the shy and quiet one. You never showed signs of jealousy before.

Mina leans over in her chair whispering in your ear. “Little one green isn’t a good color on you.”

“If that was me you’d be pissed!” You said turning to face the redhead. She chuckles looking over at Cordelia.

“She has a point.”

Cordelia smiles and was about to say something when she noticed Billie walking over. And of course, Julie was following behind her like a puppy.

“How are my beautiful ladies,” Billie asked with a smile.

Cordelia and Mina smile at her while you kept a death stare on Julie.

“When are we leaving?” You asked coldly looking over at Billie.

The blonde raised her eyebrow at your tone “Well…”

“Ms. Howard still has people she has to mingle with,” Julie said cutting her off.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize I was talking to you.” You stated looking back at the girl causing Mina and Delia to glance at each other in shock.

The girl smiles awkwardly as she reaches for Billie's hand. “Look the Petersons are here now they’ve been dying to meet you.”

“Julie..” you called out to the girl.

“Yeah?”

“You have really pretty hands.”

“Oh umm…thank you,” she says with a smile looking down at her hands.

“It would be a shame if something were to happen to them.”

All three of your girlfriends looked at you in shock.

“I’m sorry?” Julie questioned.

“If you touch my girlfriend one more time your hands won’t be so pretty anymore.” You growled.

Julie gasped removing her hands immediately.

“Umm. Julie why don’t you go speak to the Petersons and I’ll meet you over there in a few.” Billie says to the girl sending her off with a smile.

Once she’s gone Billie sits down at the table across from you.

“What was that?” She asked.

“What? I’m just letting her know.” You said.

“She’s my assistant y/n.”

“I don’t care if she’s the Queen of fucking England. She’s been following you around all night, laughing extremely too loud, and touching you every chance she gets and I don’t like it.”

Billie smirks as she gets up from her seat walking over to you. She crouched down to be at eye level with you.

“Now you know that I only have eyes for you princess. And Cordelia and Mina of course. I swear I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know. But I’m still mad.”

Billie chuckles kissing you softly.

“I love you, Princess.”

“I love you too. Now go talk to the Petersons so we can go, please. I want to go home.”

Billie sighs as she nods her head walking off to greet the couple. Mina and Cordelia give each other a look as they gather their things.

“Honey you know she would never hurt us like that,” Cordelia says softly.

“I know. I just want to go home.” You sighed.

Mina comes up behind you wrapping her arms around your waist.

“We’re leaving now sweetheart. Come on Billie will meet us at the car.”

You waited thirty minutes for Billie to come to the car. Mina was in the passenger seat and Cordelia was in the driver's seat. Finally, Billie walks out of course Julie follows opening the car door for her.

“Have a good night,” Julie says with a smile as Billie climbs in the back next to you.

“You too Julie.”

Once the door was shut you moved quickly across the seat grabbing Billie's jaw as you pulled her into a rough kiss. The blonde moans into your mouth giving your tongue open access. Your hands roughly pull on her waist until she is straddling your lap.

“You’re mine.” You growled biting her bottom lip.

Billie moans nodding her head “I’m yours, baby girl.”

You smiled into the kiss as your hand travels under her dress sliding her panties to the side allowing your fingers to run up her wet slit.

“This better be for me.” You growled.

Billie moans as her head drops down to your shoulder.

“It is baby. All for you.” She whines as you enter her with two fingers.

“Do you always let her touch you like that?” You asked thrusting your finger into her. She moans as she shakes her head.

“Answer me.”

“No baby. I don’t... I don’t.”

“Then why does she think that’s okay?”

“I…I don’t…I don’t know.” She stutters feeling her release approaching.

“Monday morning you will tell her that kind of behavior is not allowed. You will tell her that there are only three people who can touch you like that and she's not one of them. If she doesn’t like it she can find another job. Understand?” You asked picking up speed.

Billie moans loudly nodding her head.

“Use your words, Billie Dean.”

“Ahh. Yes. I will tell her. I promise.”

“Good.” You smiled as your thumb circled her clit causing her to go over the edge.

“Ahh. Uh. Y/n! God Yes.” Billie chants as her head rolls back.

You slowed your pace down as she comes down from her high. Her head founding its place on your shoulder as she breathed heavily.

“Holy shit,” Mina whispers causing both you and Billie to look at them. In the front seat, you see two sets of eyes staring at you in shock.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Cordelia says.

“I don’t know when this side of you came about but I like it little one,” Mina says with a smile.

You giggled shyly as you looked at Billie.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No baby doll you didn’t. You surprised me but you didn’t hurt me. I quite liked it.” she says with a smile.

You chuckled kissing her softly.

“I love you, Billie. “

“I love you too princess.”

“Alright, Delia. Let's get home so we can show our baby just how much we love her.” Billie says smiling back at the blonde.

Cornelia nods as she starts the car. Mina chuckled as she shifts in her seat. Billie goes to sit down in her spot when you stop her.

“Stay please,” you whispered.

Billie grins “Of course. Anything for my baby.”

#cordelia goode x reader #billie dean x reader #lgbtq #wlw #writing #fiction #television #ahs murder house #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #poly representation #jealousy #wilhelmina venable x reader #fingerfun #smut and fluff #age difference #angst #rated m

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why-am-i-here-someone-save-me · 2 years

Note

SAGAU voicelines request!

How would characters react to Reader cheering for them through the screen (like "C'mon, you can do it!" "Good job, [character name]!!!" "Amazing!!!! Good work!!!"]...but the characters are the ones less used/thought to be weak by the fandom.

Here they are self-aware of their status in the teams, like Kokomi/Barbara/Diona/etc being the healers, Bennet/Mona/etc supports, or Amber/etc just...useless (no offense, i myself main Amber from the start of the game). Like they know they are supposed to be the heal or support of the team but you still main/use them as a DPS. Hopefully you understood my request, I apologize if it sounds messy.

Ah my sweet summer child, every character I build is a ‘support’ with like two exceptions. DPS? Never heard of ‘em.

Also, I framed the voice lines as if the Traveler was asking the other characters thoughts on you. I feel as if quite a few of them would be too shy to be open with the reader, so I figured this worked a tad better.

The way that you cheer them on means the world to them. Sure, they knew they weren’t the greatest at this sort of thing, it wasn’t their specialty, yet you didn’t mind. You didn’t get angry at the fact that they weren’t able to do massive amounts of damage. You loved them just as they were: and it meant everything to them. Your encouragement, your support, your unwavering faith in them; it pushed them to go further and further, striving to overcome their own limits, to grow even more. They’ll put forth the effort without hesitation if it means they can bring a smile to your face.

“Ah, you are familiar with [Name] as well Traveler? Interesting! Personally I consider myself very lucky to have received their guidance. I could not have led Watatsumi Island nearly as well as I have were it not for them. I am not someone who relies heavily on brute force, but even still I have found comfort in the power that [Name] has granted me. I only hope I can use it to protect the people of Watatsumi to the best of my ability.”

“Oh! Traveler! I wanted to thank you for helping me out with the whole Albert situation. Is there anything I can do for you in return? … Eh? My thoughts on [Name]? Well I deeply appreciate them and all they’ve done for me. I hope to someday make them proud!”

“If you’ve come to try to get more booze then you can turn right back aroun- Oh! It’s you! How are you Traveler? Did you need some help with something? Hm? [Name]? Well yes, of course I know them! I’m not dumb! What I think of them? Well… They’re very important to me. They have always been there for me, and that means a lot to me. Plus when they take me traveling I don’t have to deal with those smelly alcoholics!”

“Traveler! There you are! Wanna go on an adventure? …Huh? My luck? Well, yeah I guess I’m always a bit nervous about my luck, but recently I’ve had [Name] watching my back! When I have them watching my back, I know that everything will be just fine!”

“What is it? Honestly, who comes knocking on someone’s door at this early in the morning?! H-Huh?! What do you mean it’s already noon!?!? Ah this is really bad! Sorry no time to chat! I have to get ready for [Name]’s next Spiral Abyss expedition! I can’t bear to let them down!”

“Oh hey Traveler! It’s been a while since I saw you here in Mondstsdt! How about we stop by Good Hunter and catch up a little bit! Ah, you have a question for me? Sure thing Honorary Knight! Ask away!” “[Name]? Well yes, of course I know who [Name] is! I don’t get to hear from them often, but whenever I do, it’s the best feeling in the world! While a little part of me wished they’d call for me more, I can make due with what I’ve been given. After all, as Outrider, I have to keep watch for trouble!”

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

Text

Special Girl - Part 3

Summary: You arrived at Harvard as a shy, nerdy girl. You never thought a guy like Lloyd Hansen would notice you. But Lloyd saw you—really saw you—and for a time you became his special girl. Now, years later, you’re stuck in a sexless marriage. Unloved and unfucked for months, you’ve decided enough is enough. The fact that Lloyd has been keeping tabs on you for years has nothing to do with it… or does it?

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Word Count: 7.1K

Warnings: DUBCON (alcohol use/manipulation); INCREDIBLY unsafe/unhealthy/deadass wrong BDSM practices (Lloyd doesn’t do safewords or aftercare); plus-sized reader/fatphobia; cheating; degradation; bondage, spanking/whipping, gagging; knife kink; blood kink; CNC roleplay; gunplay; rough oral (m receiving); explicit sex (O,V,A); unprotected sex (Lloyd doesn’t wear condoms, ok?); unwanted pregnancies/abortion; physical intimidation/abuse; general toxicity; Lloyd is a psycho and he’s fucking mean—Dead Dove Do Not Eat! 18+ only, no minors.

Series Masterlist

Part Three

You wake in the morning to an empty bed. You don’t know where Michael is staying and you don’t care, because this morning you don’t have to put his dirty boxers in the hamper or make his breakfast or pour his coffee. This morning all you have to do is take care of your son and prepare yourself for the rest of your life.

Harrison is unfazed by Michael’s absence. He seems happier even; he doesn’t even make a fuss about going to school. You spend your Thursday running errands, but they’re you errands: an emergency hair appointment, a mani/pedi, a long-overdue bikini wax, and some shopping. You buy yourself some lingerie: the kind so sheer and skimpy that it’s easily shredded at the hands of a determined man. You buy yourself a new dress: tight with a high thigh-slit. You’re going for tastefully slutty—something that whispers “fuck me” instead of shouts it, not that you’d ever have to tell Lloyd twice. He’s fucked you when you didn’t even ask for it at all, when you didn’t even know you wanted it. Because you always want it from him; he knew it then and he knows it now.

You contemplate making him wait until Saturday, leaving him questioning whether or not you’re going to show up, but of course you won’t. You know you’ll barely make it through the rest of Thursday and the day on Friday, and he’s probably watching you anyway. He probably knows Michael is gone. He probably even knows what you bought to wear for him. You should be embarrassed but you’re too fuck-starved to care. So what if he thinks you’re desperate? You are. You are so fucking desperate for Lloyd to throw a fuck into you that you’d do anything, anything, to have him again.

When you think back on the time you spent with Lloyd—those two years of college you spent getting your body and your heart broken over and over and coming back for more—it makes you wonder how much he’s changed. He can’t possibly have changed much considering his line of work, which you shouldn’t know about but you do because Shay works at the CIA and you’ve kept in touch over the years. She’s the one who told you that Lloyd only made it five and a half months before he was deemed too much of a liability. It doesn’t surprise you really. Lloyd doesn’t like rules and the CIA has a lot of them. As for his current line of work… you can’t say that you approve, but the man has always had certain niche interests and a very specific skill set. At least he found something to do with them. He’s not a sociopath like they say he is; he hurts bad guys—people who deserve it.

Of course, you of all people know that isn’t true, but it’s a lie you have to tell yourself.

Once Harrison is asleep, you call your mother and ask her to take him for the weekend. There’s no point in lying to her. “Michael and I are having some problems,” you say. “He’s moved out and there are some things we need to discuss without Harrison here.”

Of course your mother agrees, and she sounds sad to hear about the deterioration of your marriage. You’d kept your unhappiness from her like you’d kept it from everyone else but your shrink, and you know how much she likes Michael. But at the end of the day, you're her daughter and she’ll always take your side.

“I just… I hope you two can work something out. I know how much he adores you.”

“He doesn’t,” you say. “Not anymore. He told me to my face he doesn’t want me, so I think that’s quite clear.”

“That just doesn’t make any sense, sweetheart,” she says and you can hear the confusion in her voice. “Just a couple of months ago he was making all sorts of plans for your anniversary, some big trip he wanted to take you on.”

“Well things change, Mom. I can’t explain it. I just know that he doesn’t love me anymore and I’m not going to waste any more time in a loveless marriage.”

“Well at least try to get to the bottom of it this weekend when you talk to him. Something must have happened. A man doesn’t just fall out of love like that for no reason.”

You sigh. “It doesn’t matter what the reason is. I really don’t care. It’s a relief, honestly. At this point I just… I want something different. I want something more.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she says.

“Don’t be,” you reply. “Just pick up Harrison from school tomorrow and I’ll pick him up Sunday night, ok?”

“Anything you need,” she says. “Dad and I are here.”

You tell your mother you love her and she says it back, and now you’re officially free and clear for the weekend. No husband. No kid. Nothing to do but whatever the fuck you want, and what you want to do is Lloyd Hansen.

The last thing on your Friday to-do list before preparing to meet Lloyd is your appointment with your therapist. You’d purposely scheduled it two days after D-day because you knew there’d be much to discuss, one way or the other. Dr. Baker greets you and ushers you into her office, tastefully decorated with minimalist furniture and a slate-blue and white color palette. You sit on the couch across from her and dive right in.

“I kicked Michael out,” you say. “He finally admitted that he doesn’t want me anymore and I told him we were done.”

“You don’t seem particularly upset about that,” she replies.

“I’m not. I’m relieved, honestly. It’s not like it wasn’t fairly obvious. At least now I know for sure and I can move on.”

“I want to explore this sense of relief you’re feeling,” Dr. Baker says. “We’ve talked about how you felt trapped in your marriage, even before you and your husband stopped being intimate—how you were never really satisfied physically or emotionally in your relationship, how you have certain needs that weren’t being met.”

“Marrying him was a mistake,” you say. “I knew it then. I knew he wasn’t going to be able to give me what I needed and I married him anyway because… I don’t know… I thought maybe if he loved me enough, he’d be willing to try.”

“When you say ‘try,” you’re referring to his being unwilling or unable to be more experimental when it came to sex—to be more dominant?”

“Yes,” you reply. “He just… he wasn’t into it. It scared him, and he made me feel bad for wanting certain things, so I just stopped asking. I settled.”

“Well, we’ve discussed how the desires you feel are perfectly normal, but it’s also worth noting that it’s ok for him to not want to engage in sexual activities that make him uncomfortable. It’s just a matter of sexual incompatibility, and that’s not really anyone’s fault. You’re not wrong for wanting the things that you want, and he’s not wrong for not wanting that.”

“I don’t blame him for that part,” you say. “I blame myself for choosing someone I knew couldn’t satisfy me.”

“And why do you think you made that choice?” she asks—and, though you try to be as truthful as possible in your sessions, that’s the question you simply will not answer.

“I don’t know,” you lie.

“Well, generally when a person makes a choice that they know will actively harm them or impede their future happiness, they are trying to punish themselves for something, consciously or subconsciously.”

You curse yourself for selecting a therapist who’s actually smart and good at her job. “Well, if that’s what I did, it was a subconscious choice,” you lie again.

“OK,” she says. “Let’s back up a bit. We’ve talked briefly about your previous relationships—specifically your first real relationship, in college.”

“Lloyd,” you say, and you can’t help the little smile that plays at the corner of your mouth when you say his name.

“Yes,” she says. “Lloyd. From what you’ve told me, that was a very toxic situation.”

“I suppose,” you say, “but I was young. We both were.”

“Still,” she says, “I think that relationship may have done more lasting damage than you realize.”

“If you’re implying that I was looking to replicate my relationship dynamic with Lloyd with Michael…” You can’t even finish that sentence because you’re laughing too hard. Once you get your giggles under control, you continue. “Michael is the polar opposite of Lloyd in every possible way.”

“Exactly,” she replies. “And don’t you think that may have had something to do with why you chose him?”

“Look,” you say. “I see what you’re getting at here, and maybe there is something to it, but I don’t see how any of this matters now. Shouldn’t we be talking about the future? I’d much rather you help me make a plan to move forward with my life than to rake me over the coals for choices I made when I was 18 years old.”

“Fair enough,” she says. “But I think it’s worth putting some thought into on your own, if only so you don’t repeat your past mistakes.”

“Lloyd wasn’t a mistake,” you snap, and you can feel yourself losing control of your emotions but you can’t help it. “I learned things about myself from him that no one else ever could have taught me.”

“He hurt you.” She’s using her concerned doctor voice and it’s pissing you the fuck off. “And I’m not talking about the sexual aspect of your relationship, although we’ve discussed how deeply unsafe and unhealthy those practices were.”

“He can’t help it,” you say. “He hurts people. It’s what he does. I knew that and I chose to keep coming back. Because he was worth it—he was worth all that pain. And a part of me… I liked it.”

Dr. Baker sighs. “That’s what concerns me,” she says. “Going forward, rebuilding your life, I’d like to see you making good choices—choices that will bring you happiness and satisfaction with your life—but these masochistic tendencies of yours run so much deeper than just your sexual urges.”

Before she even finished her sentence, you know this will be your last session with Dr. Baker, and you decide to go out swinging.

“Lloyd is my son’s father,” you tell her, waiting for the reaction to your reveal to hit her face but she keeps herself composed—ever the professional. “But even before that, we were connected in a way you could never possibly understand. And he’s back now. And he wants to see me. And I’m going to see him. Tonight, actually. I’m going to leave this office and go home and shower and get ready and then I’m going to drive to D.C. and I’m going to give him anything he wants, let him do anything he wants to me, and maybe he’s going to hurt me, but I’m going to like it. I’m going to feel alive. That’s who Lloyd is to me. I’ve been fucking suffocating for years and that man is my oxygen.”

Dr. Baker keeps a professional demeanor, keeps the calm on her face, but you can sense her irritation and frustration under the surface. “Well, I can see you’ve made your choice,” she says. “And I don’t supposed I can change your mind.”

“No,” you reply. “You can’t.”

“Please just… be careful. It’s unprofessional for me to say this, but since I have the sneaking suspicion that I won’t be seeing you again, I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you that I think this man is incredibly dangerous. I think he’s bad for you, and I think that it’s very possible he will ruin any chance you have of making a happy life for yourself going forward. He’s not oxygen; he’s a drug. He’s poison.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Doc,” you reply, grabbing your purse and standing up, “and you’re probably right, but it’s my life, and I’d rather drink his poison than die of fucking boredom.”

You feel bad leaving it like that because Dr. Baker is a good doctor. She could have helped you if you’d let her, and for a while she did help you—she helped you find the strength to leave Michael, she helped you realize that you wanted more out of life. But she can’t help you anymore. There’s only one person in the world who can help you now and you know he’s close—watching, waiting.

***

With your virginity a thing of the past, things escalated quickly with Lloyd. But there were rules—for you, not for him, of course. Rule #1: you came when he called. It didn’t matter what you were doing or how important it was; if Lloyd sent for you, you showed up exactly when and where he wanted. Rule #2: you didn’t talk about him with anyone. You weren’t allowed to tell Shay or anyone else that you were seeing each other. You had to lie about where you were going and what you were doing and with whom. Rule #3: you were only allowed at the Phoenix once a month, on a night of his choosing. You were correct in assuming that the blonde hanging off of him at beer pong that night was his girlfriend, but Lloyd assured you it was mostly for show—that she was the type of girl his parents and the other guys expected him to have around, and that appearances were important in his circle. Rule #4: you weren’t allowed to date anyone else, not that you wanted to. You were Lloyd’s and Lloyd’s alone.

The most important rule was the last: you didn’t say no to Lloyd Hansen. You were to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and without complaint. This should have scared you but it didn’t, because all you wanted to do was please him. There was nothing you wouldn’t do for him if he wanted it—no line you wouldn’t cross to show him that you were his special girl. Whatever it takes, you’d told yourself, to make him love you.

Because you were desperately, irrevocably, painfully in love with Lloyd Hansen, though you didn’t dare tell him that. He knew, though. Of course he knew. He liked it that way: you completely obsessed with him, ready and willing at all times, just waiting and waiting for him to show you he felt one shred of what you felt for him. But Lloyd didn’t do feelings—he’d told you that, too. “Don’t expect flowers and poetry from me, Porkchop,” he’d told you the night he fucked you for the first time. “That’s not my style.” But he had other ways of showing you how much he wanted you, how much he appreciated you. If that was as close as Lloyd came to love, you would take it.

Things started to get really intense a few weeks into spring term of your freshman year. By then, you had grown accustomed to sex with Lloyd. Your body had molded itself to fit him, and he’d fucked you hard and rough and made you cum in every possible position. But it wasn’t enough for him. After he’d broken you in, after it stopped hurting and he saw how much you enjoyed it—how you got off even harder when he’d choke you or bite you or slap you around—he started to get bored.

One Tuesday night you were in the library working on a paper when you got a text from him: Dunster. 20 minutes. It wasn’t unusual for him not to give you any notice. 20 minutes was almost generous. You packed up your things quickly and headed to Lloyd’s suite, the crimson tie on the outer doorknob assuring you that his suitemates would not be interrupting you. He lived with 3 other guys on the football team, one of whom was a Phoenix, but they didn’t acknowledge you when you saw them around campus. You knew they knew who you were, but rules were rules and you always pretended you didn’t exist when Lloyd’s friends or teammates were nearby.

You knocked on the door and Lloyd answered in just a towel, his hair still wet and dripping down his cut chest and abs. You still went dumb at the sight of Lloyd’s body, and you’d never tire of seeing it or feeling it.

“Right on time,” he said. “Good girl. Get in here.”

You walked through the common area to his bedroom, and when Lloyd opened the door you saw a number of things laid out on his bed. It looked like a sex shop exploded onto his bedspread and your eyes went wide. You took in Lloyd’s haul: a blindfold, leather handcuffs, a ball gag, three bundles of red rope, a number of different whipping devices, a vibrator, and a butt plug with what looked like some sort of tail.

“I thought we might try something new today,” he said, “and since you were such a good girl and got here on time, I’m going to let you choose—do you want to get tied up, or are you finally gonna let me fuck your ass?”

Lloyd was obsessed with your ass—spanking it, eating it, finger-fucking it—and he’d almost stuck his dick in there the previous week. Techincally, he did—just the tip—and he claimed he’d missed while he was fucking you doggy. You’d screamed when he breached you there and you didn’t think he was going to stop but he did, telling you he’d save that for another time, though he’d warned you he wouldn’t wait too long. It’s the thing you feared most, the thing you really did not want to do, and you had to admit you were curious about what it would feel like to be tied up, so that’s what you chose.

“Goddammit, I knew I shouldn’t have give you the option,” he said, but still he smiled at you with that devious little twinkle in his eye. “That’s what I get for being a gentleman. But this will be fun, too. Take off your clothes.” You did as he commanded, and when you were naked, he picked up one of the bundles of rope. “Get on the bed. Lay on your stomach.”

You thought he was just going to tie you to the headboard or something, but you realized fairly quickly that Lloyd had much more complex plans for you. He placed your hands behind your back and bound your wrists together, then he moved on to your ankles, and then he connected the two with the third cord of rope. He didn’t ask if the ropes were too tight (they were, a little) and you knew better than to question him, and before you knew it you were face down and hogtied on Lloyd’s bed. You craned your neck to look up at him and you saw the tent growing under his towel.

“Fuck, you look pretty all trussed up like this. I knew you would.”

He grabbed the gag and moved to place it around your head and the panic started to set in—the realization that you wouldn’t be able to speak at all once he had that thing in your mouth. “Wait,” you said. “Sorry, I just-”

Lloyd stopped your words with one raised eyebrow. “You just what, Porkchop? This was your idea, remember?”

“I just… I mean… shouldn’t we have like a safeword or a signal or something like that?”

Lloyd just laughed. “Safewords are for pussies. I know my girl can take it, and you trust me, don’t you? You know I always make it hurt real good, right?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“That’s right,” he said, kneeling down next to the bed and grabbing your face in one big hand. He kissed you deeply, the feel of his tongue and the sounds of his moans in your mouth distracting you from the harsh angle of your neck craning in his direction. When he pulled out of the kiss, he smiled. “Now open your mouth.”

You spent the next half-hour (though it felt like an eternity) bound and gagged, face down on the bed with a Hitachi wand against your clit as Lloyd used a flogger on you. Your ass and thighs were burning and your pussy was swollen to the point of pain, but he wouldn’t let you cum. Every time you got close, he just knew, and he took the wand away and slapped your pussy hard with his hand.

“You cum on my dick, or you don’t cum at all,” he’d say each time, and when he would return the wand to its torturous position between your clit and the bed beneath you, he’d mock you for how wet you were. “Such a fucking slut,” he’d say. “Such a little whore for me. I don’t know what’s crying harder, your eyes or your cunt.”

Your jaw ached from the gag inside, your muscles were screaming from your binds stretching them, the flesh of your ass and your upper thighs felt like a raw nerve each time he smoothed his hands over it. You didn’t think you could take anymore, but you couldn’t move or speak. You had no choice but to trust him—to give yourself over to him completely and take whatever he gave you. So that’s what you did, and once you made the decision that your body belonged to Lloyd and not to you, you started to feel everything and nothing at all. You felt like you were floating just a few inches above yourself, and your brain knew that your body hurt but you couldn’t feel it anymore. All you could feel was Lloyd.

All of a sudden, you couldn’t feel the wand anymore and Lloyd’s fingers were at the back of your head, unbuckling the gag before he pulled it from your mouth.

He chuckled and asked, “You still in there?” but your jaw was too sore and your throat too raw from screaming into it to answer. “You’re doing so well for me, Porkchop. Such a good little slut.”

You heard the words but it sounded like he was underwater. You focused on gulping down as much air as you could now that your mouth was free because you knew it wouldn’t be for long. Lloyd repositioned you so that you were still on your stomach but your head was hanging off the bed, and then he stood in front of you, cock hard and angry in his hand. He slapped your cheek with it a few times and he didn’t have to tell you what to do because you knew; you were conditioned. Your mouth and your throat opened for him automatically and your eyes rolled back in your head as he held your face in his hands and fucked it.

You took what he wanted to give you even though you were desperate to have him between your legs. You always did love the feel of him in your throat, though, and you loved the filthy praise and animal sounds that spilled from his lips when he was balls deep in your gullet. Even tied up and completely helpless with his dick plugging your mouth up, you felt safe with him. He would never really hurt you. If you really wanted him to stop, he would just know and he would. Lloyd Hansen would never let anything bad happen to his special girl.

When he finally took his cock out of your mouth and dropped your head you whined. “More,” you begged, your head hanging off the bed towards the floor, and Lloyd laughed.

“You really are stupid for my dick, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you said.

You heard the snick of a pocket knife opening and the rope between your wrists and ankles released. Your legs flopped down onto the bed and you groaned with how good it felt to straighten them. You turned your head to the side and saw the knife flash as he flipped it in his hand and then he bent over and cut the rope around your ankles. You waited for him to do your wrists but he didn’t; instead, he got on the bed and grabbed you by your wrist restraints, tugging you up onto your knees as he ghosted the blade’s edge down your upper back.

“Don’t move, Porkchop,” he said. “Wouldn’t want this to slip. I just sharpened it.”

You felt the cold steel move across your right shoulder and down your arm to your wrist where it was bound, then up the other arm and across your left shoulder. You couldn’t help it; you shivered when he touched it to the nape of your neck, and you felt the tiniest prick as it broke the skin. Lloyd moaned and you felt his lips surround the fresh wound, his tongue lapping up your blood. He’d told you many times before, every time he left a fresh mark on you with his teeth or his nails, how sweet your blood tasted to him—”like dessert wine,” he’d said, “I get drunk on you.”

When he finally pushed inside you, you both moaned loud as he buried himself to the hilt in your wet heat. He’d been edging you for so long that it only took a minute of him fucking you rough, with one hand holding the rope at your wrists and the other rubbing your clit, for you to cum so hard you saw stars twinkling behind your eyes. You cried out his name and God’s name over and over as your walls pulsed around him. You’d never cum like that, and you’d understood in that moment the reason for all that torture. Lloyd didn’t want to hurt you; he wanted you to feel this.

But your ass and your thighs were raw from the flogging, and with each hard snap of his hips, his flesh hit yours and it burned so hot you started to get a little dizzy from the pain. Your hands were completely numb and your shoulders felt like they were about to come out of the sockets. You knew you couldn’t say anything about it—that he would be so disappointed in you if you did—but you had to do something.

“Lloyd,” you begged. “I want to see your face. Please.”

“Yeah? You want to watch me fuck my tight little pussy?”

“God, yes. Please.”

“Alright.”

He pulled out just long enough to grab the knife, cut your arms free, turn you over, and throw your legs up onto his broad shoulders before shoving his cock back inside of you. You loved when he fucked you like this, his arms wrapped around your thighs and his hands gripping your flesh as he rolled his hips. He always went a little bit slower in this position, making sure to grind himself deep inside of you and hit your sweet spot with every thrust. He placed one hand around your neck and squeezed, knowing that the combination of his choking you while hitting your g-spot was a surefire way to make you squirt—something you didn’t know was actually possible until he had you in this exact position a few weeks ago.

“You gonna give it to me?” he asked. “You know what I want. Make a fuckin mess.”

You put one of your hands over his on your neck and said, “Harder,” and he squeezed the sides of your throat just right. You clenched down on him when he started to fuck you more vigorously, and the sound of the “fuck” it drew out of him had you soaking his abs and the bed beneath you.

“There it is,” he said. “Such a messy little whore when you cum on my dick.”

“I love it,” you cried out. “I love your fuckin cock. Fuck. I love it. I love you.”

Your eyes shot open and found his when you realized what you’d let slip, but he just kept fucking you with a smirk on his face.

“Oh yeah?” he said, bending you in half and pressing his forehead to yours as he kept pounding you. “How much?”

“I- I-”

“Go on, Porkchop. Tell me how much you love me.”

“So fucking much,” you said. “I love you with everything I have. I’m yours, Lloyd. I’m fucking yours.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice low in your ear, “and I know just how you can prove it to me. But first I’m gonna fill you the fuck up.”

A few more hard thrusts and Lloyd was grunting his climax into your shoulder as he pumped you full of him. When he pulled out, he let his cock flop half-hard and heavy onto your stomach as he leaned over and grabbed the knife off his nightstand.

“You really love me?” he asked.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

He brought the tip of the blade to the side of your left thigh and lightly sliced through the skin. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would—maybe because just about everything on your body was hurting and you weren’t even feeling pain anymore, not the way you’d always known it—and all you could do was watch as he carved LH into your flesh and surrounded it with a crudely-drawn heart. He let the blood drip onto his sheets as he licked the knife clean, and then he pressed his mouth to the place where he’d branded you his forever and he licked and sucked until you thought you might pass out.

Of course, he didn’t give you anything to clean it with or bandage it. He didn’t bring you a towel or a glass of water or some lotion for your burning ass and thighs. He didn’t even pull you against his chest and kiss and cuddle you until you felt ok enough to walk back to your dorm. He just told you it was time to go, that you’d hear from him soon.

“You really did well today,” he said as you reached for the doorknob to the hallway. “I’m impressed, Porkchop, and I’m not easily impressed. You really are something special.”

You left with a pep in your step, because you knew that was Lloyd for “I love you.”

Two weeks later, you were pissing on your fourth EPT stick and this one was no different from the others. Of course you’d gotten knocked up. It was a miracle it hadn’t happened before now with the sheer volume of Lloyd’s seed you’d taken inside you. You knew you needed to tell him, thought that maybe this would be an exception to the rule about contacting him first, so you sent him a text message that just said I’m sorry but I really need to see you.

You waited hours for him to text you back but he didn’t, and you cried yourself to sleep, thankful that Shay was sleeping out with her new boyfriend so you wouldn’t have to lie to her (or worse, tell her the truth). You woke with a start to banging on your door that shook the whole room. The clock read 3:30am and you knew there was only one person it could be. You turned on your desk lamp and opened the door, and Lloyd grabbed you by the shoulders and shoved you inside, kicking the door closed behind him.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he hissed. “Did you hit your head and lose half your fucking mind or are you actually just stupid?”

“I’m sorry, Lloyd. It’s just… it’s important.”

“No,” he snapped. “Following the rules is important. That’s the only thing that’s important. But, ok, I’m here now. What the fuck do you want?”

You took a deep breath and let it out and said, “I’m pregnant.”

There was a long pause and then Lloyd threw his head back and cackled until he had tears in his eyes.

“Oh, oh my God.” He swiped his eyes clean and held a hand to his chest. “That’s what you thought was pressing enough to break my rules? Oh, Porkchop. You really had me there for a second.”

“Lloyd, I don’t-”

“Just take care of it,” he spat. “Go get scraped out and lay in bed with some fuckin chicken soup and an US Weekly and deal with it. Jesus.”

You stood there, your mouth catching flies as you tried to think of something to say. You didn’t know how you thought he would react, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“What, you want money?” He dug his wallet out of his back pocket, took out a fad wad of twenties and threw them in your face. “Here. Here’s some fuckin money. Or would you rather I just threw you down the stairs? We can take care of it right now.”

“Lloyd, please, I’m sorry, I-”

“No. Come on. Let me help you.”

Lloyd dragged you out of your room by the arm and walked you toward the stairwell at the end of your dorm hallway. When he got you to the edge, he held you by the back of your neck. Your eyes filled with tears and you wanted to scream but it got caught in your throat. Even then, you didn’t want anyone to hear you; you didn’t want anyone to see.

“So,” he said, still letting you dangle over the top stair. “Are you gonna take care of it, or am I?”

“I will,” you said. “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

He pulled you back and you fell into his arms. He held you tight to his chest and stroked your back.

“That’s my girl,” he said, “and you can keep the money, ok?”

“Th-thank you,” you stammered. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Porkchop. Now what did we learn?”

“D- don’t break the rules.” You sniffled against his sweatshirt and you were enveloped in the smell of him. “I shouldn’t have done that. I knew better.” You looked up at him. “Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he said, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Just disappointed.”

You got your first abortion two weeks later. Lloyd wouldn’t speak to you until after it was done. He didn’t come visit you after, either, although he did send one of the punches over with a card that said “Hang in there!” with a kitten dangling precariously from a tree branch. (You still have the card, of course.) All those Lloyd-less days you spent wandering around campus—both before and after—shuttling yourself from class to class like a shell of yourself, you told yourself you’d never speak to him again. You tried to forgive yourself for being young and naive, for falling for him and letting him manipulate you into doing things you knew were stupid and wrong.

But still you found yourself searching him out in crowds, looking for him when you saw a group of upperclassmen guys walking toward the river houses. When you actively tried to forget about him and push him out of your mind, you heard his voice in your head telling you You’re mine. And every time you showered and rubbed your loofah across that LH dug into the flesh of your thigh, you felt your heart beating in it. You knew it was pointless. Lloyd Hansen lived under your skin.

Two weeks to the day after your abortion, you were reading on your bed when Lloyd texted you: Dunster, 1 hour. And you went. Of course you went.

You had no intention of having sex with Lloyd that night, but when you walked into his suite, he kissed you so sweetly and gently that you almost forgot the past month had ever happened. He didn’t apologize for that night in your dorm and you hadn’t expected him to—Lloyd Hansen doesn’t apologize because Lloyd Hansen is never sorry—but he told you that he’d missed you when you were apart, that there was something absent inside of him when you weren’t there. He promised you that what happened would never happen again and that he needed you.

“You’re special to me, Porkchop,” he said. “You know that.”

And that night he made you feel special in ways that only he can. He was gentle with you—no whips or ropes or knives. He fucked you good and deep and slow (and he pulled out long before he came). He even snuggled with you for a while, letting you be little spoon while he kissed your neck and your back and told you you were his perfect girl. And by the time you left his room at 1am, it was like the month before hadn’t happened. All evidence of it had left your body, and one night with Lloyd was enough to put it out of your mind, too.

You spent two years with him like this, the cycle repeating itself over and over. You let him do anything he wanted to your body and your heart, he gave you as much of himself as you thought he was able to give, and then something would go wrong—you would break a rule, you would get pregnant (again, even though you’d gone on the pill, because even Lloyd’s sperm didn’t take no for an answer), you would disappoint him. And he would get angry, and he would get mean, and he would scare you straight for a few weeks until you needed your fix of him and went crawling back. It would have gone on forever if he hadn’t been two years ahead of you at school, if he hadn’t told you the night after your last final of sophomore year that he was through with you.

You’ll never forget that night. You’d been blessed by him with an invitation to the Phoenix’s post-finals end-of-year throwdown and you were so excited—so happy to be done with the academic year, so excited for Lloyd who was graduating with honors. You hadn’t talked much about what would happen once he left school, but he’d dropped you a few breadcrumbs about you maybe having a future. Just a few days prior, when he was balls-deep in you in the library stacks, he’d asked you, “If I texted you in the morning and told you to be in D.C. by dinnertime, would you come?” And of course you’d said yes. You’d have been willing to spend every second you could in Washington with him. Hell, if you were honest, you would have transferred to Georgetown if he’d asked you to.

But he didn’t ask because he didn’t want you to follow him. He just wanted to know you would follow him—that you would still be at his beck and call even if he was hours away.

The night of the party had started like all your evenings at the Phoenix did—with Lloyd off somewhere with his friends, his latest skinny blonde girlfriend (there were several over the years and they all looked exactly the same and had utterly forgettable names) hanging off of him. You had a few drinks on your own, talking only to the girls you knew and never the guys, and then Lloyd would grab you and take you upstairs to have his way with you. That night—because it would be your last at Harvard together—you gave him something special. Something he always wanted but rarely took: a delicacy.

You let Lloyd fuck your ass raw in that big four-poster bed where everything began. It seemed a fitting, full-circle moment to you, and you’d even come to enjoy that particular act with him (as much as one can when it’s Lloyd Hansen’s massive cock brutalizing your asshole). It always hurt, of course, but he just loved it so fucking much. Nothing made Lloyd go stupid quicker than you letting him in the backdoor—especially if you let him think he was taking it without your permission. That’s what you did that night; you even fought him a little bit, the way you knew pissed him off and turned him on and made him absolutely feral.

When you were done and he’d filled all three of your holes with his cum, he gathered you in his arms and pressed your back to his chest.

“Thank you for that, Porkchop,” he said, kissing the back of your head. “This is exactly how I want to remember you—a trembling, fucked-out little whore leaking all over these thousand-thread-count sheets.”

You giggled and said, “Well, I’ll see you again soon enough.”

Lloyd chuckled low and your felt it rumble against your back. “Aww, Porkchop, don’t be stupid. You knew what this was.” You turned around in his arms and he let go of you, leaning back against the headboard with his hands behind his head and a satisfied smile on his face. “Don’t make this difficult.”

“What… I don’t… I don’t understand.”

He rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were one of the smart ones. I thought you were better than this. What, are you gonna grovel? Are you gonna beg me to stay with you? Oh… don’t tell me you’re gonna fuckin cry.”

You didn’t want to—you didn’t want to show weakness in front of him like that. Lloyd loved your tears when he dragged them out of you in moments of pain and pleasure mixed, but when they came from feelings? Nothing disgusted him more. But you couldn’t help it. It felt like he stole all the air from your lungs and ripped your heart out of your chest at the same time. You felt, in that moment, like you were dying.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I just… I didn’t know. You said… about D.C…. you said-”

“You know, I really can’t figure you out. All this time and I still don’t get it. Because you’re smart as shit, Porkchop. You’ve got a fucking 3.9 GPA, and while booksmarts aren’t really a measure of everything, you’ve got something else, something special. You get me, Porkchop, and you always have. So, tell me: with all that brain of yours, why the fuck are you surprised that this has to end?”

“I don’t understand why it does have to end,” you snap. “I mean, look, I know you’re leaving, that you’re gonna fuck other people, I get that, but why can we still-”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he roared. “I don’t want you anymore, ok? I’m bored of you and I don’t want to fuck you and you’re too goddamn stupid to take a hint.”

Those are the words you still hear at night when you fall asleep unloved and unfucked and miserable; that’s what you remember first when you remember Lloyd Hansen. He never even kissed you goodbye. That came much later.

PART FOUR >>>

#lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen #chris evans #chris evans characters #the gray man #special girl

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solar-halos · 6 months

Text

december prompt #3: hot chocolate

some gale hawthorne and delly cartwright fluff under the cut :o)

Delly Cartwright looks scared out of her mind.

Gale thinks she should be. Merchants don’t belong in the Hob. You don’t see him perusing sweet shops and bakeries, do you?

Still. She approaches a vendor and she smiles and smiles and smiles as someone tries to haggle money out of her that even Gale knows she doesn’t have.

She’s being nice, and they’re gonna latch onto that and exploit it. Gale shifts his weight, his warmest jacket and his bag of game weighing heavy on his back. Katniss had to cut their meeting in the woods short to take care of Prim—in her words, her mother was in Useless Mode again, which she seems to be in a lot these days—so Gale was in charge of the trades today.

Delly reaches into her pockets, emptying out the contents in exchange for just one ridiculously tiny vial of lard.

Gale steps in. He’s not sure why. Maybe she reminds him too much of Prim.

“Don’t waste your time.” He reminds himself to make his voice steady and even so the vendor picks up on his confidence. Good luck trying to haggle him now. “I could get you a bigger tub for cheaper. Also, Chock dilutes all his stuff with water.”

Chock splutters, but that’s mostly because he sucks in a stray snowflake floating around, so Gale and Delly high-tail it out of there before he could start getting confrontational. He doesn’t usually rat people out in the Hob—part of perfecting the craft is unearthing everyone’s secrets on your own—but he has a feeling Delly’s not gonna be up here very often. She doesn’t need to learn all the secrets of the trade, but she sure seems to need lard (for some reason), so Gale throws her a bone.

She smiles at him, so warm and sweet and a smidge shy that Gale almost forgets it’s the middle of winter. “Thank you. He seemed so nice that I wasn’t sure how to tell him no.”

“I can help you out with that: Chock’s an asshole.”

“Well, even then, his wife’s been battling the flu, and he said things aren’t looking good. No one deserves to go through that.”

Maybe it’s because he wants to see her smile again—no one has ever smiled at him like that before—but the tears suddenly pooling at her eyes makes his stomach twist in the worst way possible.

“Chock’s not even married,” he assures her. He expects her to get a bit angry—Gale certainly was, when he found out—but her expression only softens.

“Well, even then—” Gale has a feeling he’s going to be hearing a lot of that from her “—no one would lie like that if they didn’t have to. He must have something awful going on at home.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Gale starts out, because he really does, “but everyone here has something awful going on. You wouldn’t be at the Hob if you didn’t.”

That begs one question: what’s Delly doing here?

Gale doesn’t ask. She had looked so scared with Chock, but she’s so much more at ease now that she’s walking by his side, so he doesn’t wanna give her any opportunities to psych herself out. It’s impossible to receive good deals on trades if you’re thinking about everything that’s at risk if you walk out of there empty handed. That’s rule number one.

Delly doesn’t really need to learn any of these rules, but she does need to know them at a least a little bit if she wants to walk out of here with at least a few cents in her fleece-lined coat.

That reminds him: “Pick-pockets are ruthless here, you know. Does your pocket at least have some sort of zipper?”

“Oh.” Her forehead crinkles—apparently, she doesn’t know. And, even though they’ve just met, she transfers a few crinkled bills into his hand. “Will you hold onto it for me, then? For safekeeping?”

Okay, so she doesn’t remind him of Prim. His head has never gotten so foggy from someone’s fingers brushing over his—especially not for something so trivial—but it feels good to be trusted with something so important. It feels even better to be trusted by someone so kind.

So Gale sticks by her side, extra mindful to snag all the good deals for her. He handles all the trades for himself and Katniss along the way, impressed that Delly eventually gets the hang of it after a few booths, but he still thinks she’s entirely too generous with her time.

Gale doesn’t say anything about it, doesn’t wanna risk the chance of squashing down her sweetness. Plus, it works in her favor; one hug and a shoulder to cry on later, Miss Burna gives her a complimentary bag of peppermints as a parting gift.

“Everyone there is so kind,” Delly tells him on their way out, and Gale is starting to think that might ring a little true. He’s hardly ever seen any of those vendors smile without trying to cheat you out something really important along the way, but Delly’s got them wrapped around her finger.

“We should go get something to drink,” Delly says, pulling her coat—and all of her spoils—closer to her chest. “My treat. As a thank-you for getting me through all that.”

Gale’s first instinct is decline, but when he opens his mouth, the words don’t come out. Instead, he takes one look at her pink nose and tangled blond curls, and he says, “Okay.”

He expects something like coffee. Katniss’ mom loved coffee, but they had more important things to worry about in the Seam, so that must be why Delly’s taking him to the merchant side of town. Or maybe she’d want some warm wine. Gale doesn’t know why, but he has a feeling Delly might really like that. The way Greasy Sae does it, he means.

Now it’s his turn to squirm under the gazes of blue eyes and pink lips. But if Delly could tough out a visit to the Hob, Gale can wait in line and clasp his fingers around a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

His eyes nearly bug out of his head. Hot chocolate.

“How can you even afford this?”

He expects to feel a rush of injustice—he couldn’t even afford a chocolate chip—but he’s only curious.

Delly gives him one of those smiles again. “The girl who’s working this afternoon is in my math class, and my family really likes trading with hers. Besides, everyone feels extra generous around the holidays.”

That’s not true. Everyone feels a extra generous around her, but he doesn’t know where this stupid affectionate haze is coming from, so he takes another sip of hot chocolate before he could say something stupid.

Delly plops a peppermint into her drink. And, before he can think about it, he follows her lead after she holds out another one in his direction.

It tastes like the new year.

He doesn’t drain it all right away. He doesn’t wanna waste it, and he needs something warm to wrap his fingers around. They take a walk to get the blood pumping, arms brushing against each other sometimes, and Gale developes a newfound appreciation for window shopping.

There’s the pastries in the bakery. The scarves in the boutique. The holiday themed color palette of all the medication in the apothecary.

Gale wonders if the hot chocolate is spiked with something. It would explain why he feels so happy and weightless and smiley, but it was too watery—apparently, merchants aren’t above diluting their products, either—so he pins that feeling down to the way Delly is looking at him. Like he’s worth liking, even though he’s not really doing anything for her.

“No shit!” he says, in response to her story about how she and her baker friend snuck out a bottle of booze that they use for all their cakes. “How’d it taste?”

Her nose wrinkles, laughter making her exhales come out in the shape of pretty white clouds. Gale didn’t know stuff like that could be pretty. “Awful. And his parents got so pissed that they put a lock on all their cabinets.”

They skid to a stop by a trash can, both unwilling to dump it in and go their separate ways, so they loiter. Gale knew he should have drank his hot chocolate slower.

“Thank you again, by the way. For helping me at the Hob.”

“Thank you for the drink,” he says, holding up his empty cup for emphasis. “Didn’t think anything could be sweeter than you are.”

Okay, so maybe he’s actually, literally drunk. He wouldn’t have said something like that if he wasn’t, but it’s kinda worth it to see Delly’s cheeks flush.

“You’re sweet, too. Even if you don’t wanna admit it.”

That gives Gale a pause. The only people in the district who seem to think he’s at least a little nice is Rory and Posy and Prim, but—

“Oh, shit,” he mutters. He forgot he was haggling for two today, and Katniss is gonna be expecting her half of the trade soon. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She puts her hand on his arm, the warmth from her glove seeping into his jacket. He finds it a lot easier to relax. “Thank you again for helping me out today. And keeping me company. You’re gonna have to finish your story about you and Katniss and the lynx next time.”

Next time. Gale smiles so wide his cheeks start to hurt.

“Okay,” he agrees, schooling his expression into something less giddy. “And, next time, I’ll get you something nice.” He thinks of the ribbons Burna sometimes sells. “Or something pretty.”

The flush to her cheeks deepens, but that could also be because of the breeze. They’re both equally as hesitant to actually leave, so they stand outside the plaza for a few extra minutes and plan out the itinerary for their next visit. Gale knows that there’ll never be a next time—Delly was just being polite—but it feels good to think about.

The pressure of Delly’s hand on his arm increases, but that’s only because she’s tightening her grip and propelling herself forward. She plants a kiss on his mouth, short and sweet and breathtaking. Just like her.

“See you later, Gale!” she says, already turning on her heel. And then she’s gone.

He stands there, trying to get his bearings. She tasted like peppermint.

#can we get a delly and gale hype train going #golden retriever gf black cat bf #sunshine person a with permanently grumpy person b #it’s a great dynamic #delly cartwright #gale hawthorne #tis the season

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karuvapatta · 1 year

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Nothing like this was supposed to happen, but someone mentioned Jon and Elias dancing, and I. I couldn’t resist. I am weak. I also don’t know how I’m going to edit this into a cohesive story, but??? That’s a problem for the future.

Do let me know if you’re enjoying this fic, though! :3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

***

For some infernal reason, Elias makes them suffer through an office party.

His assistants flat out refuse to come, but Jon is a department head, and should make at least a token appearance. They’re celebrating an anniversary of the establishment of the Institute, and Jon very much does not care which one it is—

--one hundred and sixty years—

But at least the wine is nice.

Elias drags him around and introduces him to his benefactors: Peter Lukas and Simon Fairchild and some others, old men with more money than common sense. Jon shakes Peter’s hand and feels the cold, creeping fog curl around his feet; looks into empty eyes and can’t see or hear anyone else—

Elias’s hand curls around his bicep, proprietary and way too presumptuous.

“Do not startle my Archivist, Peter,” Elias says. “He’s rather shy.”

They all laugh at Jon as if he were an object, paraded around for their approval. Well, Jon couldn’t care less about it, so he smiles through clenched teeth, makes whatever small talk he deems unavoidable, and excuses himself at the earliest opportunity.

He sulks at the top of the balcony and watches the colourful crowd milling below. How many of them are of the Beholding, then? How many serve other Powers? There are patterns there, he can feel the shape of them, but they don’t make sense to him yet. And wine makes him unsettled, overly warm; he can feel his inhibitions melt away, stupidly texts Wish you were here to Martin, because wouldn’t it be nice to have a shoulder to lean on?

Mostly, however, he watches Elias. He seems awfully close to Peter Lukas; even now, they stand together, caught in a whispered conversation, Elias with his hand on Peter’s shoulder, leaning a tad too far into the man’s personal space for it to be accidental…

They both look up, and catch Jon staring. Jon shudders; the men just laugh.

Thankfully, some of his former colleagues from Research are here. They ask polite questions about his new position, but are mostly just content to discuss old stories and their current projects. They miss Sasha; Jon lets her know via text, and receives a heart emoji in response. It’s almost pleasant. Easy enough not to wonder how many of them are aware of the Eye’s watchful gaze.

But he does wonder. He can’t help but wonder.

Do they know they can’t leave? Everyone’s acting like nothing is amiss, and it’s driving Jon insane. There’s a buzz in his head that he’s trying to drown out with more wine, that prickling sensation of constant surveillance, the underlying awareness that all these happy, smiling, innocent people are doomed, that they have already signed their freedom away, that there is nothing Jon can do for them…

He lets the conversation drift around him and then, eventually, away. He doesn’t seek out company afterwards, content to sleepwalk through the Institute halls, paying no attention to anyone and receiving none of it in turn. It is peaceful. It is terrifying.

“Archivist.”

The voice is vaguely familiar. Peter Lukas, his mind supplies – captain of the Tundra. The fog thickens around them, muffling sound and light. He can still see people, they are still there, but Jon doesn’t know them. Doesn’t care to know them. Certainly no more than they care to know him.

“Captain Lukas,” Jon says. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

His voice drifts through the mists. Peter laughs.

“You know, I could very easily take you right now,” he says. “Snatch you right from underneath Elias’s thumb. Wouldn’t that serve him well?”

Jon shrugs.

“Can’t imagine he’d care.”

He can’t imagine anyone would care. Jon could stay here forever. Probably should. It’s not like he’s making much of a difference out there – all of his actions only serve to make the situation worse.

Except Elias would care – he might care about the failure of his pet project. But he can replace Jon easily, can he not? Sasha would make a great Head Archivist. She’d get the position she had always wanted, that should have been hers in the first place, that Jon had stolen from her. Tim won’t have to suffer Jon’s entitlement and paranoia, won’t be looking at him as if Jon was going insane, won’t have to struggle with that seething rage… and Martin… Martin deserves someone better. Someone who will treat him right, and not as a punching bag or a source of emotional support.

He can feel the cold, damp fog seep through his clothes. Its tendrils creep along bare skin, leave him shivering. But that, too, passes; he stands still, numb to the mist that will swallow him whole. He can see nothing, hear no one…

“How are you doing this?” he asks.

Peter Lukas is a shadow in the fog, his voice coming from somewhere far, far away.

“I’m not doing anything to you, Archivist. You’re doing it to yourself.”

“But why?”

He knows why. It is one of the Powers, feeding on his fear, the way it did to Naomi Herne, Carlita Sloane, Andrea Nunis… their statements float through his memories, each one stark and clear, even though everything else slowly sinks back into the fog. They made it through. And Jon took their fear and committed it to tape, picked it apart and studied it, filed it away with all the others, fed on it, and for what? What good does it do? It cannot help him now. It didn’t help them. It never helped anyone.

And if he stays here, it never will.

Jon shakes his head, his hands. He is shivering now, chilled to the very bone; he can barely feel the tips of his fingers, where they’ve gone pale and cold and numb.

“That’s not a very nice trick to pull at a gala, of all places,” he says irritably.

The fog is melting away. Or perhaps it was never there in the first place. But he can see people, real people, moving about them, exchanging idle gossip, laughing, flirting. There’s music playing, an honest-to-God string quartet that Elias always insists on bringing to these events if no one manages to stop him in time.

“I disagree. There’s something deliciously ironic about it, wouldn’t you say?” Peter grins. It’s not a very pleasant grin; his eyes remain lifeless, cold.

Jon wants to argue, but his teeth are chattering. Low temperatures never agreed with him, and it’s been even worse recently. Has he lost weight? It might explain why even his suit was hanging a bit awkwardly off his frame, much as the rest of his clothes. Huh. He had attributed it to stretched fabric, but perhaps…

He feels the warmth of another person, stepping up smoothly on his right to place a hand on his shoulder. For a brief moment he feels the brush of fingers on the nape of his neck, just above the collar of his ill-fitting jacket; warmth blooms beneath his skin, like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise cloudy day. He has to forcibly hold himself still not to burrow into that heat, push his way all the way into its nice, secure embrace, and soak up everything it has to offer.

Because it’s Elias. Of course it’s Elias.

“If you wanted to dance, Peter, you could have just asked,” Elias says. His tone is pleasant, almost playful, but narrowed eyes and stiffness of his posture betray the irritation he must be feeling. “No need for such underhanded tactics.”

“But you love them so,” Peter says. His smile, when he addresses Elias, is a touch more genuine than the bland expression he has for everyone else. Jon is trying very hard not to consider the implications of that, mostly because he is still shivering and it’s taking all of his willpower and whatever remains of his dignity not to cling to Elias’s warmth like a swooning maiden. Peter gives him a short, unreadable look, and turns back to Elias. “I will see you later. Take better care of your pets in the meantime.”

“I do not recall asking for your advice, but thank you nonetheless,” Elias says smoothly. “Shall we?”

The last question is directed at Jon. He finds himself nodding numbly, content to follow Elias’s in their not-quite embrace, up and until he notices where Elias is leading them.

“No,” he says.

“It’ll warm you up,” Elias says.

“I am not dancing with you.”

“Whyever not?”

Because I hate you, Jon thinks aggressively, making sure to stare directly in Elias’s eyes. Out loud, he says: “Because you’re my boss, half of the Institute is here, and I don’t want to fuel any more inane gossip.”

Elias sighs dramatically. “You care way too much what other people think of you. I, for one, think it is a splendid idea.”

And of course he manages to manoeuvre Jon exactly where he wants him: the middle of the dancefloor, among other couples, who are swaying to the music with varying degrees of skill or a sense of rhythm. And of course Elias’s hand slides down Jon’s back, to rest below his shoulder blade; his other reaches for Jon’s hand and tugs it upwards, curling warmly around stiff, frozen fingers.

“Elias,” Jon whispers urgently. “I can’t dance.”

He doesn’t know what to do with his free hand, or his legs, or the rest of his body. Their new position puts them awkwardly close, facing each other, even if they have to angle their heads for their eyes to meet. Elias has him more or less trapped in the cage of his arms, and if his self-satisfied smirk is anything to go by, doesn’t intend to let go any time soon.

“Just follow my lead,” he says, smooth as you please.

And then, suddenly, they are moving.

Elias shifts his body weight forward, barely giving enough warning before Jon has to scramble backwards, to avoid colliding with his leg. He clutches onto the fabric of Elias’s suit, and stares down, trying desperately to mirror the movements of Elias’s legs. Which are, annoyingly, a bit longer than his own, their stride much longer. And smoother. And more self-assured.

“Look at me, Jon,” Elias murmurs.

He’s moving backwards now, and Jon has to race to catch up with him. His gaze never leaves Jon’s face. Miraculously, they don’t collide with anyone; he wonders if Elias is keeping an eye on the dancefloor from a higher vantage point, like one of the portraits or any of the Eye-shaped embellishments.

“This isn’t helping,” Jon gasps.

He steps on Elias’s foot; Elias barely seems to notice.

“Try to relax,” Elias says. “Let me lead you.” He pulls Jon closer, much closer; the distance between them is now scant few inches. His steel-grey eyes are hypnotizing to look at, even as Jon’s thoughts scatter. “Trust me.”

Jon isn’t cold anymore. He is fairly sure he must be burning up, from shame and mortification. And he can’t hold Elias’s gaze, not from up close, so he shuts his eyes instead, and considers his options. Make an utter fool of himself by causing a scene? Continue to stomp on his boss’s feet at this very public event? Or actually try to dance, blend in with the crowd, and pray no one is paying attention?

Of course, that would require putting his trust in Elias Bouchard, which is just about the last place Jon ought to be putting it. He knows this. He isn’t stupid. But so much of his life is already in the man’s hands; it’d be a strange place to draw the line.

He exhales, slowly, deliberately, praying that some of the tension bleeds from his muscles. He shifts his posture, leans back in Elias’s embrace and rests the weight of his back more securely against his hand. He loosens the death grip he held on Elias’s fingers, allows their fingers to lace together. And he tries to respond to Elias’s movements, tries to feel the rhythm of his breathing, the changes in his posture and the way he gently steers Jon’s body with subtle movements of his hands.

He still can’t look. He cannot look, he feels too awkward, but otherwise it is almost—nice. To surrender in this manner. To the rhythm of the music, to the flowing motions, to Elias himself. He feels light on his feet, possibly because Elias is half-carrying him now, as they glide their way across the dance floor. He will probably regret this later, but “later” feels like a foreign concept and, for now, Jon simply lets go.

There’s a pleasant haze in his mind, so unlike the cold, creeping fog from earlier. It clouds his senses nonetheless, to the point where Jon barely registers that something has changed; music stops and they stop with it, their breaths quickened, Elias’s pulse racing beneath Jon’s touch, Jon’s own heart not falling far behind. The hand at his back dips ever so slightly, fingers splayed wide, almost at his waist. Elias’s suit is rumpled at his shoulder where Jon has been clutching it earlier; he smooths it now, as best as he can, and tries not to shiver when Elias exhales against his ear, whispers something that might be Jon’s name.

Jon opens his eyes.

This was a mistake. This was all a horrid, unforgivable mistake. Elias’s mask of smug self-satisfaction seems to have slipped away; there’s colour in his cheeks, his lips remain slightly parted, and his steel-grey eyes seem vulnerable and open in a way Jon has never seen them before. It would be easy, so very easy right now to look deeper, to see past Elias’s carefully maintained defences, to see him. All of him. And there’s a hunger gnawing at Jon now, the burning need to examine Elias’s thoughts and emotions, to have all his secrets uncovered, to peel away each and every layer of his mind until he is laid bare before Jon… and the worst part of it is that he knows, in this very moment, that Elias would let him.

They part so suddenly that Jon can’t tell who moves first.

#jonelias #honk twice if you want me to stop spamming the tag #jonathan sims #elias bouchard #the magnus archives

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plethora-of-imagines · 2 years

Note

Jake may have gotten Steven his job back, but neither he nor Marc or even Konshu can get him back his confidence. Armed with stevens personal library of Egyptian history (and Konshu's literal egyptian godishness) you set out to receive the best museum tour ever- but Steven doesn't know he's giving one 👑🦇

Raising up onto your tiptoes, struggling to keep your balance as you scanned the floor for the familiar dark curls you were seeking out. Trying to see over the heads of the many museum patrons. Of course the one time you need to find Steven before he leaves for the day the museum is actually busy at such an odd hours. You suppose you were too accustomed to him working till the closing, the rare treat of him getting out early not something that you were used to. You just didn’t want him to sneak past you back home before you could find him.

A flash of dark curls caught your eye, “Steven!”

Ignoring the hordes of people who turned to look at you for yelling out you rushed forwards to him as he made his way to you.

“Love? What are you doing here?”

His bewildered gaze was so cute, all wide eyed and mouth parted. The urge to surge forward to kiss him almost overtook you.

“I figured I’d never actually seen most of the exhibits here, and who better than you to show me around the museum you know so well,” you enthused.

“Oh, uh well there is probably a tour still going that we could join?” He looked around in vain for a group.

That simply wouldn’t do. You wanted Steven to show you around, not some boring tour guide that just recited a script!

“Please Steven,” you begged with purposely glassy eyes. “I want you to show me your favorite things they have on display here. Not some stranger, you.”

“Um, alright. I can try, I mean I’m not good enough to be a tour guide but I can show you a few things without messing up... It’s not going to be a proper tour mind you”

It broke your heart to see just how shy and timid he was working here. You knew that he knew more than anyone here. He could have a PhD in Egyptology if he wanted one, wouldn’t even have to study. With a bright smile hiding your worries for him you gestured for him to lead the way.

The first few items he told you about he stayed close, leaning in to whisper information to you. Every hum and question that you asked him, he got more and more excited. Opening up and starting to gesture to the objects, to point out details and explain context. Soon he was leading you around while practically walking backwards as he spoke.

He was so invested in his own excitement that he didn’t notice the group that was gathering to follow the two of you from object to object. You smiled at how infectious his excitement was, and how he hadn’t even noticed his group growing and growing.

What he had intended to be a short little showing grew to be a full half hour tour. Steven finally took a breath when you were back where the two of you had started. And was promptly shocked to be met by an enthusiastic applause from the tour group he had unintentionally gathered around himself.

“What,” he looked behind himself to find how they were trying to cheer for. The lack of a recipient after a lengthy search told him that it must be for him.

His cheeks burned a bright red as people came up to him with questions and congratulations. He practically melted when someone asked him where he was finishing his PhD and if he wouldn’t mind being stolen away from that program to work with the Institute of Archeology from University College London.

“I’m uhh, not a student-”

“Oh so you finished then, how about being a supporting Professor. You would do wonders helping teach the more serious undergraduates!”

“I'm flattered but I don’t actually have a degree?” Steven was looking like a lost puppy who’s owners were leaving the house for a walk without him.

You could see the academic lust filling the man’s eyes. He wanted Steven to join his program at any cost.

“Stevie, what the hell are you still doing here? Your shift ended and if this is some misguided attempt to get me to consider making you a tour guide you are sorely mistaken!”

The second that Steven heard Donna’s voice he wilted. You were filled with fury that once again Donna was talking down to Steven.

“Oh, he works with your conservators then.”

“What?” Donna was affronted. “He’s not a bloody conservator, he just works in the gift shop!”

“The gift shop? Well you’re wasting him there! He should be giving tours! This man knows more about this exhibit than the whole group of your tour guides combined!”

The man was offended on Steven’s behalf.

“He’s a bloody nuisance that’s what he is,” Donna refused to accept that Steven was worth anything.

The man glared at her before rummaging through his bag for a pen and paper. Handing off the items to Steven.

“Write down your contact information, Steven was it? I'll get in contact with you and we can get you started with the program as soon as possible. I’ll convince them to give you a stipend and maybe work in our school museum for more funds.”

Steven somehow looked even more lost.

With a small nudge you convinced him to write down his contact information.

The man looked at Donna in disgust, “And I’ll be sure to put in a complaint to your superiors about how you treat your workers and squander their talents too!”

Once the contact information was handed back, along with your personal number in case Steven didn’t answer. You both started the trip back to his flat. Slowly Steven came back from his stunned silence. He looked at you with awe.

“Did I just accidentally get accepted to a PhD program?”

You couldn’t help your overjoyed giggles, “yeah I think you did.”

(984 words)

#steven grant x reader #steven x reader

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lizzypotter14 · 1 year

Text

The Places in Which You Find Love

Conversations that you have with your friends, especially those at night, can provide you with so many ideas for a fic. This is one of them. Thank you @swimmingismywholelife for the inspiration, and to @chelseagirl98 for let me bounce my ideas, Puligirls this one if for you.

warning: fluff

It is great to be back home, and do ordinary things without being mobbed, asked for autographs, or slipping a piece of paper with ‘call me’ and a phone number on it, in your hands or car. I love the fans but sometimes I just need to decompress after a game, especially a tough one.

Tonight, is just another gorgeous summer night in Hershey, Pennsylvania. Most of the day, I had been hanging out with friends, catching up with our lives, and making plans for my time after nations league camp and games. The only discomfort of the night was the constant questions of ‘what’s next’ or ‘do you know what your next move will be’ coming from people that suddenly remember me from high school, but never really gave me the time of the day back then. My real friends, the ones that had been with me from the start, know how uncomfortable that made me and were not surprised when I excused myself and took my leave from them.

Leaving the get together to head home, I made an impulsive decision, and took a quick stop to the McDonald’s drive thru. The one closest to home has just been recently remodeled and now has two drive-through lanes. As it was Friday night, and one of the few places open after eleven pm, both lanes were quite busy. I found myself in the right lane ,placing a simple order of large fries and a Coke, which I think I can indulge on before getting back to a strict diet and watching what I am eating. As I started moving forward, the car on my left side moved, cutting me off completely. The funny thing about the entire situation was that I got cut and still got the horn blared at me. Shaking my head, I can just stare at the car approaching the pay window, a slender set of fingers passing a credit card to the attendant and heading afterwards to the next window to receive their meal.

To make matters even more crazy, not only I was cut off by the mysterious driver, but also my order went to them. The teenager at the window recognized me when I pulled in and, after asking me for an autograph, politely requested me to park in one of the number spots, so they could trade my order with the previous car.

“Don’t worry about it. I see that they have parked too so I just going to exchange things myself”

“Are you sure, Mr. Pulisic? It is not a problem for us to do it”.

“No worries. Don’t want to cause any hold ups during a busy night. Thanks”.

As I parked next to the other vehicle, I exited the car while the other driver did the same. A heavy but sweet accent follows the female figure approaching me.

“I apologized as I seemed to have taken your order. Also, I cut you off and I know it was my fault but I’m just starving and got off from work and…”

“Whoa! Slow down. You seemed stressed”.

“I…” and that was when she finally lifted her face to properly look at me. I can see the moment that she realizes who she has been talking to.

“You are Christian Pulisic”.

“Yes, I am. But we seem to be at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours”.

Extending her hand towards me, she just said “hi, I am y/n y/l. Nice to meet you. And again, so sorry for taking your order, and cutting you off”.

Chuckling, I just stared at her. She was easy to look at. Medium length brown hair, caramel eyes, and a ready and shy smile. This situation was refreshing to be completely honest.

“Nice to meet you too, and please stop apologizing and don’t worry about it”.

“Here’s your order. I think I stole some fries before realizing that the order wasn’t mine”.

“And here is yours. If you don’t mind me asking, would you like to go somewhere nearby and eat our food together?” I really don’t know where this bravado to ask came from, but it was out before I had the time to process it.

She just stared at me for a long time, and when I was giving up about receiving an answer, and ready to take it all back, she simply said “lead the way”, and turned around to get back in her car.

I don’t know what is going on with me, as this is as far from character as I am, but I got into my car, and after making sure that she was following me drove towards a park close by. I waited for her to park next to me before leaving my car and heading to a picnic table.

“Do you do things like this with every girl that you just meet?”

“No. If I’m honest, this is my first time”.

“Do you expect me to believe you?”

Getting extremely closer to her, I whispered “I do”.

I can feel her staring straight into my soul looking for an answer. I guessed I passed when she finally sat down, opened her bag, and said, “you sound and look sincere enough”.

“Glad you approved” I said, finally sitting opposite her.

At first, we ate quietly, and slowly we started talking. It was refreshing and unique. I opened more to this stranger than I had done with my family and friends, and I had the feeling that she felt the same way. I learned that she was in her last year of college and that this summer she was working, remote, with a sports agency, and when we bumped into each other, she had just come back home from a trip to see a prospect at a Triple A team nearby.

We lost track of time, and before we knew it, I checked my phone just to see that it was 3:30 am. I couldn’t believe how much we covered in the short amount of time; I feel like I have known her my entire life and we were just catching up. Do not want the night, or morning, to be over.

“Christian…”

“Just Chris”.

“Chris, we should leave, not that I want to do it. This is the best time I had in a very long time, but I bet this was not in your radar, and you have things to do later”, she said picking our trash and dropping everything in the trash can.

“You are right, but can I asked you something before we go?”

“Sure”.

“I would love to have your number and continue hanging out with you and exploring this”.

“I-I will love that too”.

We exchanged numbers and agreed to meet later in the day.

The next couple of weeks passed too quickly for my licking and before I knew it, it was time to head for camp. Normally, I enjoyed this time, as I get to hangout with some of my favorite people but for some reason, this time felt different.

I found myself hanging out with y/n, the day before leaving and she looks so sad.

“Are you okay? You seemed upset”.

“Not upset. Sad is the right word. I had spent so much time with you and your friends, that I find myself dreading the next couple of weeks when you will be away”.

“I feel the same. I know this is early but, would you… can we…

”Spelled it out, Chris”.

“Would you like to take this, us, a little more seriously?”

“Like…”

“You are going to make me say it”.

“Yes”.

“Cruel but here it goes. I know this is way too early, and maybe cliché, but I do not want us to stop seeing each other or stop talking. We can take it as slow as we want, but I would love to give this, us a try”

“Are you sure?’

“Never surer of anything in my life. Would you go, with me, in this adventure?”

Approaching me slowly, she put her arms on my neck and pulling me closer, she kissed me slowly and deeply. Can’t believe that an unexpected detour brought into my life one of the best things so far.

@swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @bracedes @mortirolo @neverinadream @notsoattractivearenti @pulisicsgirl @masonsrem @masonspulisic

#christian pulisic fic rec christian imagines

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corvidsong · 2 years

Text

good morning :] i’m really excited about having an art tumblr again and i’m looking forward to taking off with it!! i’m gonna ramble for a bit about my plans here under the readmore ♥

i’ve been doing some thinking about how i want to navigate this account and my posts; firstly, i’ll try to post an art piece daily as i usually do on twitter, and i have a HUGE backlog of art to post here, so look forward to that! i’ll also keep a dedicated tag system for art, OCs, text posts, answered asks, reblogs, etc. so it’s easy to find everything!

also, as i’m an OC artist and i do a lot of worldbuilding and development on many of my characters (they’re my whole world!), i’m thinking of just dropping a link to each character’s toyhouse page when i post art of them! that way people can see more of the character if they want (also a subtle plug to my toyhouse as i’m very active there, follow me there too if you haven’t already!) admittedly i don’t do as much worldbuilding on most of my furry characters who are just fun for me to draw, but they still mean a lot to me regardless, and i like having an excuse to think about them more :] i already went back and edited my last art post for a link to bonaire’s page.

i used to be mostly active on tumblr before the nsfw ban and missed having a place to post about my characters (thank you no word limit) and i used to get asks about them which made me so happy!!! i welcome messages in general, about my art or characters or anything else, it makes my day. i love rambling and could go on for ages about my characters so if you’re ever curious about them, shoot me an ask! i still remember a lot of the questions i received about my OCs on my old art blog (not gonna drop the @ but if you know you know lol)

i mostly do development on my human OCs which i may or may not post here at times, idk i’m very shy about my human art. but i enjoyed talking about my bloodborne OCs here in ages past so we’ll see how it goes >.>

i don’t wanna ramble for too long so i’ll end here but perhaps over time we’ll get used to my OCs here and maybe i’ll open up to talk about them more. i’ll try to be a little more open about them here than i am on twitter since i can add more text to posts ^.^ here’s my toyhouse in the meantime! and thanks for reading if you got this far haha

#rambles

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lokidottir1308 · 1 year

Text

Pages stained with coffee and ink - Levi x reader

warnings: mentions of injuries and death, spoilers to Levi‘s OVA and his back story (my work follows the entirety of the OVA), Levi has a soft spot for y/n, probably typos

You couldn’t imagine a life without Levi. You‘d grown up with him in the underground city. You couldn’t remember your life before, though you knew it once existed.

A friend of Levi‘s "guardian" Kenny, Niko, had taken you in, and once he passed away, Kenny took you in. He realized it would be beneficial for both, Levi and him, to have you around.

You were smart and didn’t shy away from getting your hands dirty. Once Kenny realized Levi and you were capable of taking care of yourselves, he left you behind.

It was hard at first, there were lots of arguments between you and Levi, but you managed to push through. Along the way, you fell in love with Levi, and he with you.

You never asked each other out officially, you both decided for yourselves you wouldn’t see anyone else and one day, he started calling you his girlfriend.

That was around six years ago, both you and Levi were now in your mid twenties and living with a friend of yours, Furlan.

"Ever since we’ve had ODM gear, our jobs became significantly easier. Plus, we can give more money to everyone." Furlan said as you walked into the room.

Levi was sitting at a table, cleaning his knife with a cloth. Furlan smiled at you once you entered the room. He‘d always seen you as a sister ever since you met.

"Correct. To some people a little too much, I suppose. For what reason?" Levi asked, looking at you over his shoulder once you leaned on the back of his chair. You smiled down at him lovingly and caressed his shoulder with your thumb.

"Well, Jan‘s leg has gotten worse. Poor guy. Medicine is expensive. The prices have gone even higher lately. Those… damn underground dealers. Did you hear? They have supposedly increased the staircase tariff." Levi hummed.

"Poor people can afford seeing the sun light less and less. Those guys bought every staircase up and can demand every tariff they want. And even if you could save enough money, without right of residence, you can’t stay up for a long time. You will be put back down. So many people having leg problems down here may also come from the lack of light. But we can’t do anything about it." Furlan finished his speech.

"Wasn’t it the same with your mother?" you asked softly. "So that was the reason. Even so, it looked like a lot." Levi concluded, looking up at Furlan.

"Because it was a severance pay. He can’t participate anymore. This way, he can at least go into a good hospital." the blonde explained. "I understand."

"How much more money do we need to live in the upstairs world?" Furlan mumbled but didn’t receive an answer. You could hear rumbling from outside, alerting both men.

Levi walked towards the door, knife still in hand. Furlan opened it, making a girl with messy hair fall into the room. "Ouch." she grumbled.

"Huh? It’s just a kid. Don’t startle us like that." Furlan taunted, putting his hand on his hip. "I‘m not a kid! I‘m not a kid!" the girl spoke, angrily.

"Well, then we can just kick you out without feeling guilty. We will look over the fact that you dirtied the floor, so leave right now." Levi said, looking down at her.

"What’s up? Can’t you move?" Furlan questioned with a slight smirk on his lips. "Of course I can. Don’t underestimate me." she grumbled, still on her knees.

She held a cloth in her hand that she had been protecting from the fall. "You’re pretty tough, huh?" Furlan asked. "Stop!" someone shouted from outside, making the girl panic and fall against the door.

"Great! Are you being followed?" Levi asked. "What are we gonna do?" Furlan asked, looking between you and Levi. "We‘re gonna be helping her." you said.

Levi looked at you with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest. "Levi, you know damn well what they‘re gonna do to her, regardless of what she did."

Levi‘s gaze softened and he nodded, walking to the door along with Furlan. You stood slightly behind Levi, gripping his sleeve in your hand once you heard the men speak from outside.

"Once we catch her, I‘m gonna be the first one to have my way with her, got it?!" one of them said. He was wearing a green vest. "She‘s too young to have a way with her." another one in a black jacket said, making the first man laugh.

He looked up and spotted the three of you standing in the doorway. Both men leaned their backs against the doorframe on opposite sides, you stood in the middle.

"Hey! Did a dirty brat walk through here?" He shouted up to you. "Oh, really? The entire neighborhood is full of them." Furlan answered.

"What do you mean? Are you those little gangsters around here?" the man asked, walking up the stairs. "Look in the mirror." you mumbled, earning a smirk from Furlan.

"Hey, there she is." green vest spoke. "I knew it! Does she belong to you?" black jacket asked, walking up next to his friend. "No." Furlan shortly answered.

"Then give her to us right now. Protecting her doesn’t make sense. This little witch tries using staircase eleven without paying. And you surely know that staircase eleven is an official staircase under the patronage of MP Lobov. Even if it was just an attempt, not paying her customs cannot be unpunished." the last one with a weird haircut explained.

"And you, who protected her, are accomplices. Now give her to us, would you?!" black jacket shouted. "I‘m done. Out o‘ my way." the first man spoke, walking up the last flight of stairs.

He chuckled before putting his hand on Levi‘s shoulder, grazing your collarbone when he took it off. Seeing this, Levi sliced his knife along the man‘s palm, making him gasp in surprise.

He kicked und punched the man before pulling him up by his collar. "Don’t touch her, me or anything else, or you‘ll make everything dirty." Levi spoke, kicking him down the stairs.

"He‘s right. That isn’t how you should behave. Cleanliness is very important to us. Go wash your hands." Furlan smirked, putting his hand on his hip.

You had your hand on Levi‘s back, silently thanking him for protecting you while he cleaned his knife again. "Those guys are crazy! Let‘s go." haircut said, carrying his friend away.

Levi turned around and looked at the girl. "How long do you want to keep that thing close to you? You‘re gonna crush it." he spoke. "But… I thought he’d need the warmth." she spoke, revealing a little bird.

"Why are you carrying around a bird?" you asked, crouching down to be at her level. She let you take the bird from her hands as you sat down on your butt, caressing the creature‘s head.

"He got down here on accident, probably through a vent. So I wanted to bring him to the surface again." she explained, watching you gentle pat the bird.

"What? That was the reason why you went through the customs?" Furlan asked. "Surely, he‘d like to fly around in the sky, not underground." she explained.

"That’s sweet but his wings are injured." you spoke, examining the bird. "What?" she asked. "Let’s bandage him up." you said, standing up and offering a hand to her.

You brought the bird to the table and used a cloth to bandage his wings. Levi watched you treating the bird carefully with a soft gaze. Six years and he was still so in love with you.

"Wow, you‘re really good at that." the girl spoke, watching you work. "Well, when you live with these two guys, cuts are always expected and I‘m the one in charge of treating their wounds." you laughed, making the girl smile at you.

"What are your names? I‘m Isabell." she introduced herself. "I‘m Furlan, that’s my sister Y/N and her boyfriend Levi." Furlan said, looking between you all.

"Nice to meet you, Furlan, Y/N and brother Levi." she smiled. Levi turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow. "Brother?" he asked.

"Hey, listen, please let me stay with you!" she begged, not reacting to Levi‘s question. "What?" Furlan asked in disbelief. "You used ODM gear, didn’t you? I saw you! I was so jealous. You flew through the sky like birds. I wanna try doing that too! Please!" Isabell said.

You smiled at her before turning to Levi. "What do you think?" you asked. He stood up and walked up to you, placing his hand on your neck. "Tell me!" Isabell demanded.

He looked at her, caressing your shoulder with his thumb like you had done before. "If you want to stay here, learn how to clean before using ODM gear." Levi said before walking out of the house.

Isabell‘s eyes radiated confusion before she started smiling brightly. "Thank you, brother!" In the following months, you taught her how to clean to Levi‘s liking before showing her how to use ODM gear. It took her a while and she was still a little too careless while using it, but eventually, she got the hang of it.

She grew closer to all of you and appreciated every second of it. Levi learned to love her as a sister and she became your best friend. You grew from a trio to a quartet.

One day, you were walking back to your house when you noticed a man in an expensive suit waiting in front of the staircase. "What are you doing here, grandpa? Do you want something from us?" Isabell asked.

"I want to offer you an order." the man spoke. "I believe you mixed up the houses. We are no casual workers." Furlan spoke. "The payment is very generous."

"Leave." Levi said, pulling you forward softly, his hand holding onto your wrist. You‘d almost gotten hurt during your last mission, so he was still a little overprotective.

"We‘ve already given an advance payment." the man said, not looking at you. "Is this supposed to be a joke? We have never seen you before, grandpa." you asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

"That is true. But you should be familiar with him." he spoke, looking towards a man next to a horse carriage. "Jan!" Furlan exclaimed, immediately recognizing his friend.

"His legs don’t work any longer. He needs medical attention at a hospital on the surface. It is that way, isn’t it, Levi?" grandpa spoke. "What the hell?!"

"I already told you. It‘s an advance payment for your work. Will you listen to our proposal?" the man asked. You shared a glance with Levi before he sighed. "Alright."

Some time later, you were flying around with your ODM gear, followed by Levi, Furlan and Isabell. Y’all had agreed to the offer given to you.

You flew above a carriage, Furlan purposely ramming some of them so your accomplice could take a package. "Levi, there they are! We‘re being followed!" Furlan informed.

Levi turned around and spotted numerous people following you on their ODM gear. "Ha, the MPs. Those fools will never learn. Hey, Levi, brother, that was pretty cool, huh?" Isabell spoke.

"Are you dumb?" he questioned, making her pout. "Those guys with the capes, they aren’t MPs." you called out to him. He looked at you. "Yeah, I already guessed."

"Those guys aren’t MPs." Furlan also noticed. "No. There‘s no doubt. It’s them. The coats of arms with the wings of liberty…" Levi trailed off. "They‘re Scouts." you concluded. "People who usually fight titans are in a whole 'nother league." Furlan smirked. "You know what’s about to happen?" Levi asked, receiving a yes from the three of you.

Furlan and Isabell flew in two different directions while you stayed with Levi for a moment. "Don’t do anything stupid until I get back." you spoke to him, making him scoff.

"How could I? You’re taking all the stupid with you." he answered. You laughed, flying off. "I love you!" you called out before you were out of sight.

It only took one of the Scouts two minutes before he‘d slammed his foot on your back, catching you off guard. He pulled you up by your wrists, two other Scouts already got Furlan and Isabell.

Without resistance, you let them lead you through the streets before you spotted Levi fighting against a blonde man. "Levi!" Furlan called out, making his eyes shift to you.

Once he spotted you, still breathless from the kick to your back, he let go of the knife in his hand. "You‘re good at reading situations." the blonde stated, only earning an angry glance.

You were led towards Levi, stumbling in the process. The man that was holding you let go of your wrists so you could walk up to your boyfriend.

"Are you okay?" Levi asked, drawing circles in your wrists. They were red from the right grip the man had on you. "Yeah, just caught me off guard. You?" you asked.

He averted his gaze to the blonde, who nodded at the man behind you. You were ripped away from Levi as they shoved you to your knees.

"Let me ask you some questions. Where did you get this gear from?" Silence.

"Your movements were incredible. Who taught you?" Silence.

"You’re the leader, right? Were you trained in the army?" He was now standing in front of Levi. Silence.

The man from before shoved Levi‘s face into a puddle. "You dirty-!" Isabell exclaimed. "I‘m asking you again. Where did you learn to use ODM gear?" the blonde asked.

"We taught ourselves!" you spoke, not wanting Levi to get hurt any further. "Taught yourselves? I don’t believe you." the blonde said, furrowing his eyebrows at you.

"We wanted to fly over this dark and dirty junkyard we live in! Not that you would understand that, you‘re always in the spotlight!" Furlan exclaimed angrily.

"That‘s enough! Let go of my brother! Don’t get ahead of yourselves just because you‘re soldiers!" Isabell spoke. The soldier pulled Levi‘s face out of the puddle.

The blonde knelt down in front of Levi, right in the puddle. "My name is Erwin Smith. And what‘s your name?" he asked. "Levi." was your boyfriend‘s short answer.

"Would you make a deal with me?" Erwin asked. "Which kind?" Levi wanted to know. "We will not hold you responsible. In exchange, you support us. Join the Survey Corps."

"And if we refuse?" Levi asked. "We will give you to the MPs. If you think about what you‘ve done, they will probably not treat you very well, and your friends neither. Oh, but I will take your girlfriend with me." Erwin spoke, looking at Levi.

Terror started rising in your chest upon hearing his words. You looked at Levi. "What do you want with her?" he asked, angrily. "She will join the Survey Corps." he turned to look at you.

"Y/N. I know this might seem a little sudden, but I am your brother." Erwin explained, earning gasps from Furlan and Isabell. "What?" you asked in disbelief.

Not paying attention to you further, Erwin looked back to Levi. "Choose what you prefer." he said. "Fine with me. I will join the damn Survey Corps."

A couple of days later, you were standing in front of the Survey Corps‘ members in your new uniform. "Everyone, listen up! Those are four new soldiers who, from now on, will fight alongside us. Introduce yourselves."

"Name‘s Levi."

"Levi, learn our rules as a starter. Go on." the commander taunted.

"I‘m Isabell Magnolia. Nice to meet you!"

"I‘m Furlan Church."

"I‘m Y/N, and apparently Erwin Smith‘s younger sister." gasps were heard at your announcement, even the commander seemed a little shocked.

"Flagon, those four will be part of your group. Take care of them." the commander told one of the soldiers. "What? Why mine?" he asked. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, but won’t they be joining Erwin? Especially since Y/N seems to be his sister." Flagon said, looking at Erwin. "Erwin is gonna be the Vize Commander, so you’re in charge of the newbies. Got it?"

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"This is where you will be sleeping." Flagon explained as he opened a door, revealing a room with several bunk beds. "There‘s space for a lot of people." Furlan said.

"So we‘re all staying in the same room?" Isabell cheered. "Women sleep elsewhere." Flagon explained. "Y/N will be sleeping next to me, wether you like it or not." Levi said, putting his hands on his hip.

"But I wanna sleep here, too!" Isabell whined. "Those are the beds for you two." Flagon rolled his eyes, remembering Levi‘s comment. Levi let his hand glide over the bed frame, noticing the dirt on it.

"Listen, up until now, you lived on a junkyard under the surface. Make sure you‘re clean while you‘re here." Flagon explained. Levi turned around with furrowed eyebrows. "What?!"

"Why are you looking at me like that? Do you think that’s they way you should be looking at your superior?" Flagon asked, only to be interrupted by Furlan.

"Wait a moment. We apologize. We will make sure we‘re clean." he spoke, placing his fist on his chest. "Your training starts tomorrow, got it? And when you salute, your palm faces upwards."

"Levi, please don’t cause any unnecessary drama. They are already looking at us closely." Furlan said, looking at his friend. "A piece of shit just implied that we‘re dirtying this junkyard. That pisses me off."

"Calm down, darling. They didn’t just randomly catch us. You haven’t forgotten why we‘ve come here, have you?" you asked. Levi’s gaze still lingered on Furlan before it softened once he looked at you.

"Of course not. I‘m aware."

The next day, you were standing next to Petra, one of the Scouts, while watching Isabell riding a horse. "I‘m surprised. Have you been taught how to ride a horse?" she asked.

"No, but I‘ve always like animals. This horse also told me he likes me." Isabell explained. "Oh, come on." Petra muttered. "It‘s true!" Isabell laughed before riding off. Petra looked at you, earning a shrug.

You were taught how to use the swords in addition to using ODM gear. It wasn’t that difficult. You were flying through the air and slicing titans’ napes like it was what you were meant to do.

Hange Zoe, one of the Scouts, shouted excitedly as she watched Levi and you killing titan dummies. You flew through the forest, attaching your ODM gear to different trees to slice through the dummies.

You and Levi made a competition out of who could kill most of the dummies. You won.

That evening, Furlan was searching through Erwin‘s personal belongings. You needed the documents before you could get rid of him. You were sitting next to Levi on some boxes, waiting for Furlan to come back. "Are you sure you‘re comfortable with all of this?" Levi asked, making you look at him with a questioning look. "You just found out he‘s your brother and we‘re supposed to kill him." he explained, now standing in between your legs.

You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder. He gripped your hand and kissed your temple a couple of times. Levi wasn’t a big fan of PDA, but since you both were alone, he didn’t care.

"I never grew up with him. He was never present in my life. Blood doesn’t make family. Furlan‘s my brother, not Erwin." you said, looking up at your boyfriend.

Levi‘s eyes bored into yours, trying to see if you were lying, but found that you weren’t. He smiled slightly before leaning down to peck your lips.

That’s when Furlan and Isabell walked up to you. Levi still held onto your hand, placing his other hand on his hips.

"No matter how many times I tried, I can’t find it. That means it isn’t in his quarters." Furlan explained. "But, where is it?" Isabell asked. "Well, where would you keep something that you don’t want to be taken away from you?"

"That’s easy. I will put it in the pocket over my abdomen." Isabell spoke matter-of-factly. "I‘m not sure if Erwin wears a pocket over his abdomen, but yes, the possibility of him having it on himself is high. I thought we could use the expedition. Outside the walls, Erwin and the others will focus on the titans. There will probably be an opportunity." Furlan spoke.

"Right! That’s a good idea." You smiled. "Levi, that’s okay, right?" Furlan asked. "Yes. But I will go on my own. You will find a reason to stay here." Levi said.

"But, brother, why?!" Isabell asked. Levi went to say something, but was cut off by you. "If you‘re gonna say something about how we have never seen a titan before and we‘ve never been outside the walls, so it’s already difficult to come back alive, then shut up. You won’t be going out there alone just because you think you can make it." you spoke, making him sigh.

"Why do you know me so well?" he asked. "Wait, so you don’t think we‘re capable of doing this?" Furlan questioned. "No, I can feel it." Levi said.

"Don’t just decide this for us! We will only know for sure if we try! What’s wrong with you?! Being this much of a coward isn’t like you at all." Isabell said, now standing in front of Levi.

"I will do it on my own or we won’t do it at all! Then we will search for another opportunity." Levi exclaimed before storming out of the room.

He went upstairs to sit on the roof of the castle-like building. He dangled his feet over the edge and looked at the moon. He turned around when he heard a door opening.

"Here you are." Isabell said. "Come on, let’s talk." you suggested. "In my opinion, going alone isn’t a great idea. It’s much more dangerous." Furlan spoke.

"When we‘re going outside, then all of us, right? Did you forget?" Isabell asked. "It’s the same. Without the moon or the stars, the sky is still dark, no matter if below or on the surface."

"Considering the color of the sky, yes, but-" Furlan started, but was cut off by Isabell. "Still, it’s different. Because we know there‘s no roof up there. That’s a huge difference!"

"She‘s right." you said, looking directly at Levi. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, his gaze softened like it usually did when you were around.

"The sky is limitless. This darkness is different from that under the surface." Furlan spoke, one hand on his hip. "Look! The moon! It’s so bright." Isabell spoke, pointing to the sky.

She sat down next to Levi, Furlan on his other side. You sat down in between Furlan and Levi, taking the latter‘s hand in yours. "See? It really is different.

"As we said, this isn’t the underground." Furlan spoke before looking into the sky. "We will never go back there." you said.

"That’s right! We have always managed everything together, the same goes for the titans. Let’s do it together." Isabell spoke. Levi put his hand behind the space you were sitting on while you snaked your arm around his waist.

"Levi. Believe in us." Furlan pleaded. "Alright. I believe in you." Levi sighed, making Isabell cheer. The next day, you were sitting on your horse, ready for the expedition. "Be careful out there, okay guys?" you spoke to your friends, making them smile and nod at you.

"Open the gate! Today we will take another step forwards! Show what you‘ve learned in training! We will make them feel the power and strength of humanity! We will hereby begin the twenty-third expedition behind the walls! Forward, everyone!" the commander yelled.

Everyone followed the commander outside the walls. Seeing the outside world was amazing, you couldn’t describe the feeling. Petra scolded you for being so careless.

"A titan coming from twelve o‘clock! Fifteen meter class!" a soldier screamed. You looked forward, seeing the creature running up to you. "So that’s a titan." Furlan mumbled.

"Behind us! Two titans of the ten meter class! They‘re nearing us!"

You saw a red flare going up in the sky, signaling the titans. Levi turned his horse around, riding towards the two titans after Flagon had killed the fifteen meter class.

"Levi!" you exclaimed. "Come on, Isabell, Y/N." Furlan spoke, making the brunette and you nod. You also turned your horses around and followed Levi, who killed one of the ten meter classes with ease.

You used your ODM gear to fly forward. It grabbed Isabell, making her scream. While Furlan freed her, you sliced the titan‘s nape. It fell to the ground with a loud thud before you hopped onto your horse again.

"Well, what do you say now? We killed a titan. Great, right?" Furlan spoke, looking at Levi. "Brother, we did it!" Isabell exclaimed. "Yeah, great job. Well done." Levi said, softly.

"It’s true." Erwin suddenly spoke up from behind you. "For your first expedition, you move very well. But you waist gas. Avoid that outside the walls."

"I‘m supposed to avoid usage of gear over the lives of my comrades?" Levi asked. "I‘m just saying that you move a lot unnecessarily. Are you having an inner conflict? That will cost you your life." Erwin mumbled with furrowed eyebrows.

"Damn! Just wait until we get to you alone!" Isabell exclaimed. "Sh! Be quiet. He can hear you!" Furlan reprimanded.

As time passed, it started raining and seeing your surroundings was getting harder and harder. "I didn’t know rain could be his extreme!" Isabell exclaimed.

"Yeah, you wouldn’t even be able to see a titan." Furlan spoke. "That’s our chance. During the rain, we can get close to Erwin." Levi suggested. "Are you serious?"

"Are we really doing this, brother?" Isabell asked. "Yes, but if all four of us disappear at the same time, it would rise suspicions. I‘m going on my own."

"You‘re right. We shouldn’t move without thinking." you spoke, looking at Furlan and Isabell. "That’s the only way it‘ll work. We‘re counting on you, brother. For the right of residence for the surface!"

"If someone asks about me, say I went to check a landmark." Levi spoke before riding off. He looked behind him to see Isabell waving at him while you looked at him lovingly. "Good luck!"

Levi continued riding through the rain. He made his horse stop at a small cliff, seeing dozens of bodies of Survey Corps‘ members. Their uniforms were bloody and limps were laying around.

"What the hell happened here?" Levi asked.

He saw a soldier shooting a black flare into the sky and pointing towards foot prints. "An abnormal!" he grunted before his body fell to the ground.

Levi clenched his jaw before following the foot prints. Along the way, he could see a trail of bloodied bodies and limps. He prayed that Furlan, Isabell and you were okay. He fell to the ground when his horse tripped over one of the bodies. Grunting, he sat up, only to notice a severed head laying next to him. His eyes widened once he realized whose head it was.

Isabell, his sister, was dead.

A few meters away, he saw a head with h/c hair, covering the person‘s face. His eyes started welling up with tears.

You, the love of his life, were dead.

He spotted the abnormal, a soldier hanging out of its mouth. It bit down on the soldier, their torso falling to the ground, revealing blonde hair.

Furlan, his best friend, was dead.

With tears streaming down his face, he cut though the titan‘s cheek, torso, legs and arms before cutting its head. He then cut the titan‘s nape. He wanted it to suffer as long as he could.

Other Survey Corps members walked towards him. "Levi?" he heard a familiar voice. His eyes widened as he looked up, spotting you limping towards him.

Blood was trailing down your thigh and forehead, but you seemed fine otherwise. He let go of his blades and ran towards you, embracing your body.

He pulled you as close to him as physically possible. His hand went to the back of your head, his arm around your waist. You grabbed the back of his cape, your hands still shaky.

"You‘re okay. I thought you had died." He whimpered, tears of relief streaming down his face. "I‘m okay. You‘re okay. You killed it. I’m so proud of you." you whispered, running your hands through his damp hair.

He pulled away slightly, bringing his lips close to yours. He didn’t care about the other soldiers that were probably watching you. You were safe in his arms and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Once the rain cleared, the only thing that remained of the abnormal was its bones. "Are you the only survivors? How pathetic." Erwin spoke, watching as you still cling to Levi and vice versa.

Levi wanted to run up to Erwin to punch him, but you tried holding him back. In the end, he freed himself and tried slicing Erwin‘s throat, but he caught Levi‘s blade.

"I‘m gonna kill you, you bastard! That’s the only reason why I‘m here!" Levi exclaimed. Erwin reached into his pocket and threw a document a few feet away from you to the ground.

"The document that holds all of Lobov‘s crimes. Or more precisely, a fake. The original should have arrived at Generalissimo Darius Zachly‘s office. Lobov is done."

"So you knew the entire time? You knew that we were coming for you and-" that’s when Mike grabbed him and pulled him back. Levi sunk to his knees as you knelt down next to him, taking his face in your hands.

You wiped the tears and sweat from his face while he stared into space, not realizing what was happening around him.

"Stop it. Don’t regret it. The memory of your regret will ruin your determination and you will try to leave the next decision to others. The only thing that will remain is death. No one knows what the future holds. A decision only makes sense as the fundament for the next decision. We will continue the expedition and the both of you will come with us." Erwin spoke before getting on his horse and walking off.

And that's what you did. You finished the expedition and killed as many titans as you could. You'd seen Isabel and Furlan get killed, their facial expressions would always be burned into your mind. With every titan you killed, you avenged their deaths.

Once you returned from the expedition, you asked Erwin to grant you a room for yourself, away from the other Scouts. In return, you became his second hand.

Levi stayed in your room with you. He was okay with the fact that the both of you decided to stay in the Survey Corps.

Over the next few months after the expedition, you spent a lot more time with Erwin to actually get to know him. He explained how he assumed you were brought to the underground city and told you about your biological family.

He once asked you if you regretted growing up in the underground. You didn't know if he expected a yes or a no, but you immediately answered with no.

If you'd grown up on the surface, there was a possibility you would have died on an expedition before you had the chance to meet Levi. Erwin nodded before smiling.

His urge to protect you from harm was unimaginable. If you weren't dating Levi already, he probably would have had a boys talk with you.

One night, you were laying in bed with Levi. The both of you were just talking. His insomnia had gotten worse in the last couple of days and you wanted to be there for him.

"Levi?" you asked, receiving a hum. You looked up at him as his eyes fixed on yours. "Let's get married." you suggested. His eyes widened in surprise.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. After Furlan and Isabel died, I realized just how easy it is to get killed. I don't want to die having to regret I never married the love of my life." you spoke.

He smiled at you, one of the smiles even you rarely got to see. "Okay, let's get married."

So that's what you did. You got married to the love of your life two months after your first expedition in the Survey Corps. You and Levi always protected each other, during every crisis you faced.

Even after everything that happened with Eren, you still loved each other unconditionally. It stayed that way until the both of you died from old age, decades after you'd gotten married.

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