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starkidmunson · 7 months

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glitter & crimson

Realistically, Steve knows the band won’t hang around Chicago forever. He knows they’re out promoting a new album; knows they’ll have to move on and that Eddie has to go with them. It doesn’t stop him from wanting Eddie to stay; to live in the quick familiarity he’s built within Steve’s little found family.

Eddie and Robin seem to have already created their own secret language, all gestures and movement and eye contact Steve picks up on but can’t quite read. He’s already picking on the Party like he’s known them their whole lives; ruffling Dustin’s hair, elbowing Mike, throwing his arm around Will’s shoulders, and giving Lucas little shoves.

It’s easy; so easy to get caught up in how charismatic Eddie is. Steve has a hard time keeping his eyes off him, and Eddie knows. He keeps making comments, throwing winks in Steve’s direction, seeing right through every wall he’s ever built around himself and Steve is caught between being obsessed with it and terrified.

He stops drinking after the one beer, worried he’ll make things weird if he gets anywhere near tipsy, opting to stay as far away from the possibility as he can. If anyone notices, they don’t comment.

Lucas is chatting animatedly with Jeff, Max sitting close by, twisting braids into El’s hair. Dustin, Mike and Will appear to be grilling Gareth and Freak about dungeon and dragon campaigns Eddie used to run. Nancy has her arm looped through Robin’s, but her attention is on the phone in her hands, as Eddie and Robin talk about what touring is like.

“Where else are you going on this tour?” She asks as Steve tunes back into the conversation.

“This isn’t really a tour, we just haven’t been on the road in a while and we just stopped the album, so we lined up a few shows to get our feet wet before we hit the road for real this summer. One more show out in LA on Tuesday, then we’re done until May, for now.” Eddie explains.

“We’re in LA on Thursday!” Robin exclaims, and Steve’s stomach drops because, yeah. LA on Thursday. He trains his eyes on the glass in front of him, not willing to actually look at anyone they’re around.

“We could totally meet up again if you guys are able to swing it?” Freak offers, and Steve forces a little smile onto his face and nods.

“We can figure it out later,” Eddie says after a few beats, and Steve is grateful for how the conversation rolls onto the next topic. When he finally looks back up, though, Eddie’s still looking his way. Steve hits him with what he hopes comes off as a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t seem to pay off the way he hopes.

Once the tab is closed and the staff is tipped well, Steve catches Eddie’s elbow on their way out the door. “I would like to meet up in LA, if you’re interested. I didn’t mean to get weird about it, it’s… I’ve been in my head a bit about that game since it was announced.”

“Oh, hey, no worries. We’re in LA the whole week, then we’re heading home. So no pressure, honest.” Eddie hooks his hand over Steve’s softly.

“Well, we should get in Wednesday, but we could totally do something after the game or even Friday?”

Eddie smiles and nods, patting over Steve’s hand. “Text me about it.”

“I can do that. How much longer are you guys in town for, anyway?” Steve asks.

“Ah, the dreaded question comes,” Eddie’s playful, and it makes Steve’s face heat up. “We’ve got just under another 24 hours in the Windy City before hitting the road again.”

“Oh,” It pulls his chest in a way he wasn’t expecting, in a way that shouldn’t be happening for a rockstar he was adjacently aware of in high school. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Harrington,” Eddie’s teasing again, and it does nothing to help the blush on Steve’s face. “You can’t possibly miss me this much when I haven’t even left yet.”

“Shut up,” Steve shoves him away then, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout, only for Eddie to pull him in with an arm around the shoulder.

“We can grab brunch or something? We leave around 8 to avoid rush hour, so I’ll have to be in the bus by 6, or I’d say dinner.”

“Brunch works for me.”

~~~~

The trip back to the hotel doesn’t go as Eddie expects; everyone is silently chatting amongst themselves, nodding and tapping along to the music and not causing a scene. He almost points it out, but elects not to bring unwarranted bullying upon himself instead. The guys had been giving him shit about Steve near constantly, so this was a nice change of pace after the last few days.

There was actually quiet as he made his way back to his room. A hot shower finally restored warmth to his bones the hockey arena had stolen, and he was drying his hair when he heard his phone vibrate with a text notification.

Steve: anything you're craving for brunch tomorrow so I can pick a place?

It’s practically too easy to flirt with Steve; he sets up lines without even seeming to realize. But Eddie still can’t get a real gauge on how Steve feels about the flirting, so he sidesteps the easy pass he could have made about Steve being enough of a meal, in favor of actually answering.

Eddie: French toast?

The next series of texts come before Eddie even moves his hands back to the towel over his hair.

Steve: sick, I’ll pick you up around 10:45

Steve: you mentioned going home, did you mean like, back to Hawkins?

Eddie twists his hair up in the towel, and lays down on the side of the bed he doesn’t sleep on before firing off an answer.

Eddie: nah, I’ve got a place in Nashville and no reason to go back to Hawkins anymore. My uncle moved to Indy, so that’s usually as close as I get.

Steve: any reason you moved to Nashville?

Eddie: are we playing 20 questions?

Steve: sorry.

Eddie bites his lip, and only hesitates for a moment before flipping over onto his belly and hitting the FaceTime button. Steve answers on the second ring, looking embarrassed, but Eddie doesn’t let him get a word in.

“My mom was born and raised in Memphis, but she always told me her favorite city was Nashville. I was there with her a few times when I was little and she’d just, like, light up. And music is so heavily engraved into every inch of the city, it’s hard to not find inspiration everywhere you turn. So. I bought a place in Nashville the minute I had enough saved up, and it’s kind of my home base now.” Eddie explains, watching as Steve’s face softens and he relaxes into his chair listening to Eddie’s answer. “Do I get to ask a question now?”

“I really wasn’t trying to be annoying, “ Steve looks ready to keep going with an apology, but Eddie cuts him off.

“Why do you play hockey?” It stops Steve dead in his tracks, and he genuinely looks confused for a moment. Eddie almost offers to drop the topic, but Steve fumbles his way into an answer.

“My, uh. My dad wanted me to play before I was even born. Because he played. Professionally for a few years when I was growing up, then he went on to coach.” Steve explains, and it sounds a little rehearsed. Eddie’s sure it’s something that comes up often if his father played and coached. “Gotta keep the Harrington legacy alive, I guess.”

There was a bite to Steve’s words that wasn’t lost on Eddie. “You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”

Eddie can see Steve working over how he wants to answer before he shrugs and sighs. “Because it’s all a show for him. The part we don’t talk about is how I got hurt and benched most of my senior season and he cut me off when I didn’t get full rides. Convinced me it was better to not go to college at all, despite the other scholarship offers, than to not get promised a spot on the ice. Convinced me to self-sabotage so I had to fight tooth and fucking nail to get into the league at all.” Steve pauses, then, and lets out a quiet laugh. “Sorry, that’s so unbelievably whiny of me. I love getting to play professionally, and I don’t take the opportunity for granted.”

“Not whiny. Dads can be the fucking worst.” Eddie offers, gently, and is grateful when Steve doesn't press on that particular bruise.

Instead, he takes his turn to ask a different question. “Why music?”

“This is lame, but the answer is once again my mom.” Eddie rolls his eyes at himself, but he smiles. “She was a musician. There were always instruments around and music was always playing and we traveled for her to perform. I knew my whole life I wanted to be a musician like her, but it wasn’t until after she died that I figured out that songwriting… telling stories and painting pictures with words and melodies and making people feel something…” Eddie trails off, lost in the thought.

“I’m sorry you lost her. It sounds like you enjoyed your childhood with her.” Steve offers, hopes it doesn’t sound like a forced nicety, but Eddie smiles and his nerves ease.

“She was a force to be reckoned with. Firing on all cylinders at once, chaos and home bundled into one.” Eddie’s soft a quiet for a moment, and Steve appreciates the silence by taking in how relaxed the other is to be talking about his feelings; it’s a refreshing break from many of his experiences with teammates or opponents who don’t know how to get emotional in a healthy way. Eventually, though, Eddie clears his throat. “Anyway. Back to 20 questions,”

“I wasn’t trying to start a game, really, I just… like talking to you,” Steve admits around a blush, tucking his chin into the collar of his shirt in an effort to hide the shade of his cheeks, but Eddie’s smile says his cover is blown.

“ANYWAY!” He announces louder, then taps at his chin. “Favorite and least favorite teams to play and why, go.”

“I’m not a dog.” Steve laughs but thinks about his answer anyway. “Favorite is probably the Flyers in Philly. Their fans are absolutely brutal, and their mascot is hilariously terrifying.”

“I have seen many a Gritty TikTok, so I completely understand,” Eddie gives him a few beats before he prompts. “Least favorite?”

“The Kings. LA. Billy Hargrove.”

“The…, what the fuck? How many guys from Hawkins are professional hockey players?” Eddie asks, because honestly, how had he not known there was more than Steve?

“He’s technically from LA, which is why he went back, thank God.” Steve mumbles, before dropping his head back against the wall behind him. “But, for whatever it’s worth, there’s me, Billy, and Tommy Hagan in the league.”

“Well isn’t that a fun bunch to surround yourself with,” Eddie muses out loud. Tommy and Billy were two of the biggest assholes Eddie had ever met, and it sounded like Steve wasn’t too fond of the other pair either.

“I actually…” Steve trails off, before trying again. “I was going to invite you guys to come to the LA game, but I’m really not sure it would be a good idea, so I’m… I’m actually going to ask you guys not to come, if that’s not too much of a dick move? I can get you tickets to literally any game you want for the rest of the season, just. I don’t think it’s worth it to get Billy started, and if he’s heard any of the press about us, I’m already going to hear it even if you’re not there.”

“Homophobe extraordinaire still, then?” Eddie guesses, and Steve chokes out a laugh, before covering his mouth and holding up a finger to ask for a moment to compose himself.

“He's… a lot of things.” Is the response Steve opts for, but Eddie can tell there’s more there. Whatever the two of them are doing, it doesn’t feel like Steve is ready to elaborate, so Eddie moves on.

“I think it’s your turn.”

~~~~

Nothing changes after Corroded Coffin leave Chicago, though. Not in the ways Eddie had expected, at least.

Steve still texts him throughout the day, answers his Facetimes whenever he’s available. Eddie makes him the playlist he promised, and Steve gives feedback on which songs he likes and which ones he really doesn’t, after Eddie promises to not take Steve’s opinions personally. Which, to be fair, he tries really hard not to.

The concert in LA comes and goes, and Steve seems to send him every TikTok he comes across from the show. It’s a refreshing break, as every few videos in Eddie’s feed are of him cheering for Steve at the game, or Steve watching from sidestage in Chicago.

A text from Robin eventually confirms their arrival in LA, and Steve and Eddie make plans to meet up after the game. Since Steve had expressed concern about Eddie going, he decides to just watch from the bar they agree to meet at. Televised games make it easier to track the puck, but Eddie decides he likes being there in person better.

Eddie’s sipping absently on his beer and in the time it takes him to look down at a text from Chrissy, several of the people around him react to something. Eddie looks around to make sure someone in the bar hadn’t passed out. When he looks back at the screen, absolute mayhem has broken out on the ice. The refs are trying to separate players from one another, and Eddie’s scanning through the numbers on each Blackhawks jerseys before he finally spots Steve, slightly off to the side from everyone else. The camera pans away from him, zeroing in on the fight, now between a Blackhawks defenseman and none other than Billy Hargrove.

Billy’s helmet and gloves are off, teeth shining with blood as he grins like a psycho and starts to skate in Steve’s direction. One of the refs pulls him back, though, escorting him into the penalty box while another Kings player gathers his helmet, stick and gloves and clears them to the bench.

The camera finally pans back to Steve, who is now sitting with his back against the boards. He’s got a gloved covering the lower half of his face, but his white jersey is covered in blood. A ref and the Blackhawks goalie are kneeling on either side of him as someone else speaks with him. The camera zooms in as the TV crews work to make out what is happening, just in time for Steve to lower his hand and shows off a gnarly gash along the side of his face. He leans forward a little and spits out blood onto the ice, and the TV jumps to the announcers in the booth.

The volume is off, but they show a slow-motion replay of the few moments Eddie’d missed; Steve passes the puck off to another player on his team, just before Billy slams into his side. The impact sends both of them into the boards and down onto the ice. Billy swings his stick around and cracks Steve in the face with the blade heel. Steve reacts, throwing his whole arm into Billy’s face, before a sea of white Blackhawks jerseys sweep in and suddenly Billy’s a few feet away, with players from both teams piled up.

Eddie’s hand hovers over his phone; has no idea what to do in this situation. Texting Steve is useless; it would likely be hours, if not days, before he even thinks about looking at his phone. He doesn’t want to bother anyone, but he’s… well, he’s stressed. Even if Steve isn’t interested in him the way Eddie’s interested in Steve, they’ve still built a weird little friendship and that was an awful lot of blood.

So, Eddie ends up firing off a text to Robin. It’s just a simple 'let me know if there’s anything I can do,' but his phone lights up with a call immediately.

“How bad is it?”

“I’m not back with him yet, but just… meet us at the hospital, if you can?” She asks. While her voice waivers a bit, she’s calmer than Eddie expected her to be.

“I’ll be right there.” He agrees, hangs up and exits the bar before the game even returns from commercial break.

#hockeyplayer!steve harrington #steddie #rockstar!eddie munson #stranger things hockey au #glitter & crimson #sorry this took like 2 weeks #we're going to try to keep the momentum going here #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #corroded coffin #steddie fanfic #starkidmunson writes #oh i almost forgot #one of the most important tags for this one #anti billy hargrove

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chaosandmarigolds · 4 months

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peaches, I have an amazing idea:

Simon Riley and his wife take the kid(kids) on holiday to Scottland, years into retirement to visit Johnny in the Highlands!!!

would that be so cute? All the kiddos running around while Johnny, Simon, and Reader (maybe Johnnys partner idk!!) all sitting by the moores, finally enjoying life??

Ugh

(THATS FREAKING ADORABLE AH)

And if it was Tf141!Reader, like dude-

It would be a long planned trip, reunion type of trip where everyone and their respective families were coming down and after much convincing Johnny had told them that he would be the perfect middle. And shockingly, he wasn't wrong.

Simon made sure the youngest was old enough to fly, so she was about eight months old, and he thought flying would be the easy part! No. The oldest is running down the loading docks with his toy airplane, the middle is griping that they weren't able to get breakfast before the flight and the youngest who is normally so sweet and so quiet, is sobbing with no sign of stopping.

So he as to break out the lieutenant voice, nothing compared to what it actually was but it was stern enough that it made the older two straighten up.

And everyone would've been so excited to see you both, and don't tell Simon but you have a video of that grown man almost jumping out of the Taxi

Simon and Johnny would've spent the entire evening by the grill, watching the football match on the little TV he has out there while Kyle and John would made small talk with you and Juliet

Sometimes you would forget that Juliet was actually apart of the team, a RN assigned during longer ops-

"Wait so how did you meet Liza, Captain?" You then say after a joke was made about how Simon and Johnny had their soulmates handed to them.

John shrugged, "Highschool."

To that your seven-year-old looks up from their game of poker, (something you very hesitantly allowed), "That's so old!"

"Nah," John said to the boy, "One day you'll meet someone an' then you'll be married." He chuckled as the boy grimaced.

Most of the trip would be spent with Johnny showing everyone his favorite spots, a few hikes, but nothing crazy- as an equal amount was spent lounging around.

Kyle taught the kids just about every card game in existence during that time.

John spent about twenty minutes scolding the team for standing at attention whenever he walked into the room saying it didn't matter if they were "not really at attention' because he was still retired and he didn't like the idea of accidentally traumatizing them

Simon and Johnny who spent their days teasing the other- therapy having done them both good over the years.

Johnny who broke serval laws when he shot fireworks out to celebrate Simon's birthday (yes he did plan that)

(ps Juliet did know that everyone was coming because Johnny did not shut up about it for about four months prior)

(annnn yea thats all i got! Hope you like it! <3)

#simon riley fanfic #simon riley x you #cod x you #coco's chaos <3 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod fluff #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 10 months

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THERE WAS NO PLACE IN NATURE WE COULD MEET ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; it’s never fun to run into an ex; especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart. and just so happens to also be a wanted mass murderer.

word count; 3.3k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, geto-typical angst, exes to [redacted], lots of longing, geto is kind of a cunt but also disgustingly charming, reader is understandably upset, biblical imagery (i just think he’s so serpent coded), curse user geto is his own warning tbh

a/n; i wanted this to be a drabble so bad but it ended up just a little too long for me to get away w it so … :’3 yeah. i hate suguru geto (said w affection)

the moon is out.

in the shadows of the street corner you find yourself in, seated comfortably on the sidewalk, it’s a welcome distraction. something to look at, in the midst of your loneliness; the evanescent glow of the moon, illuminating your solitude.

a solitude soon to be broken. shattered into pieces, battered and bruised beyond recognition, jagged shards littering the asphalt. digging into the soles of your shoes.

”hey.”

for a second, you think you must be dreaming.

the figure obscuring the light of the lamp post in front of you is familiar. too familiar, a little too dear for your liking. as you grasp your shitty cup ramen, seeking the warmth seeping through the polystyrene, all you can do is stare. blinking dumbly, drowsily.

geto looks something like a bad omen.

sharp facial features, even sharper eyes. so dark they almost shift from an amber-tainted cedar into an obsidian black — two abysses, staring into your soul, beckoning you closer. they were always enchanting, but now you think they look almost hypnotizing. not at all in a good way. dark hair frames his face, cascading down his back, longer than you remember it being. and he’s wearing robes.

still has those fucked up bangs, though. of all the things to keep.

the gears of your mind turn, endlessly, untangling the mess of thoughts inside your brain. ensuring you that no, you are not hallucinating, and no, you didn’t fall into a deep slumber somewhere between the moment you exited the convenience store and sat down by one of tokyo’s empty street corners. this is real. a reality you can’t comprehend, can’t even begin to process.

what stands in front of you is a ghost. but ghosts don’t exist, can’t be seen, can’t touch the living.

(so how is he able to haunt you like this?)

what eventually jolts you out of your silent stupor is not the questioning tilt of his head, nor the suffocating sensation of your heart crawling up your throat, but the feeling of soft fur against your leg. the stray cat you met further down the street meows at you, sweetly, trying to get your attention. you think she must be asking for more grilled fish.

so, completely ignoring the apparition in front of you, you turn to reach for the little plastic bag you bought as a midnight snack — digging out a bit of fish for the kitty to enjoy. she seems happy, settling down by your feet. purring softly.

geto watches, eerily silent.

(maybe he’s upset that you’re ruining his dramatic entrance. you hope so.)

finally, you have no choice but to look at him. a lump forms in the back of your throat, clogging up a little more for every second spent falling into the trap he’s laid out for you, trailing over his moonlit features with your tired gaze.

mouth full of noodles, staring holes into his attire, you narrow your eyes. suddenly disgruntled.

his lips quirk up. ”something the matter?” he asks, and you can’t even begin to describe how much you hate his voice. how devastatingly deep it is, during the late hours of the night, even deeper than it was back in high school.

slurping up the soggy noodles, you lean back a little, licking some broth off your lips. finally meeting those abyssal eyes.

”… i was gonna say those robes look like shit on you,” comes an exhale, weary, ”but you actually kinda pull them off. that’s…”

a beat. you struggle to find the right word.

”annoying.”

geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, and you find a hint of familiar amusement in the vague crinkle of his eyes. barely visible crows’ feet. then he’s moving — plopping down right beside you, robes fluttering with the breeze.

”well, thank you.” he hums; crossing his legs.

the silence that festers around you is odd. not quite suffocating, nor especially fragile. definitely not comforting. it’s familiar, yet different, and it hurts a bit more than it should. but you choose to look at him, out of the corner of your eye, and he looks right back at you. still smiling that eerie smile.

when your eyes settle on the particular cloth wrapped around his torso, you just barely manage to bite back a taunting chuckle.

”a gojo-kesa, huh?” you grin, and geto doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t miss the meaningful glint in your eyes, either. ”you miss him that much?”

”just a coincidence,” is all he answers. smiling, but you think it looks a little stiff.

your grin widens, for a second, before settling back down. a sad transition. you let it go.

”whatever you say, geto.”

at that, he visibly reacts. barely noticeable, but it’s there — a twitch of his lithe fingers, an unknown something that flickers through the scope of his iris. when he looks at you, a neutral smile is playing at his lips.

”ah. i take it we’re not on first name basis anymore, then?” he asks, casually, hiding a tinge of something mildly displeased.

a shrug. you pick at what’s left of your ramen with your chopsticks, a little too nauseous to enjoy it. ”call me what you want. i just don’t see suguru when i look at you, y’know?” leaning forward, you begin to pet the kitty by your feet. ”he was sweeter.”

geto smiles. almost a grin, but not quite there. a chuckle spills out from his lips, and something about it irritates you. ”was he?”

”yeah,” you nod. without hesitation. a summer-stained memory blooms behind your eyelids, but you try not to look at it. all you catch is a glimpse of cherry blossoms. ”you just seem bitter.”

the grin that finds its way onto your lips is self-deprecating. a shadow falls over your face.

”guess we’re in the same boat, huh?”

a hum buzzes in his throat. he casts a meaningful glance towards your hand, scratching behind the cat’s ear. ”oh, i don’t know about that.” his smile grows with the drawl. ”.. you seem just as sweet as always.”

to your grave annoyance, you can’t control the way your face changes at his words. a twitch of your lips gives away your discontentment, and something sour settles on the tip of your tongue.

(your blood begins to boil, beneath your skin.)

geto sighs, suddenly, filling the tense silence between you — a little theatrical. ”ah, but that’s a shame.” he turns to you, soft pout playing at his lips. ”i was hoping i could hear you call me suguru again…”

”— i was hoping you’d come back.”

a beat.

somewhere outside your vision, a crow takes flight into the night sky. swallowed by darkness, melting into that sea of black. no longer perceivable, by you or the world.

”but you never did,” the polystyrene of the plastic cup crinkles beneath your fingers. your eyes look dull. ”so what the fuck do you want, exactly?”

…

”i heard.” geto rests his jaw on the heel of his palm, gazing at you with those piercing eyes. like he’s trying to see inside your brain. ”… about your decision.”

”ah,” a grin splits across the curve of your lips, showing off the white of your teeth. ”of course. that’s what this is about, huh?”

with groggy movements, you throw away your nearly-empty cup of noodles, haphazardly aiming towards a trash can across the street. it bounces off the steel cover, landing on the ground with a soft thud. leftover broth spilling out across the pavement. geto doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, lips twitching upwards before he sends a curse to eat it from the asphalt.

you furrow your brows in embarrassed annoyance.

a moment passes, and something in you knows that he’s waiting. it’s like you can practically sense it, like it’s etched into your bones. the same way you always knew exactly when he would begin to get impatient during your nightly convenience store runs back in high school — after you had spent about ten solid minutes struggling to decide what kind of chips you wanted.

”what can i say?” you lean back, palms against rough concrete, breathing in the midnight air. ”you inspired me.”

geto tilts his head. smiling. always, always smiling. he smiled at you the day before he massacred that village, too. ”oh?”

with a deep breath, cool air courses through your body. burning your lungs. ”i realized being a sorcerer is completely fucking meaningless,” you exhale through your nose. ”and that trying to change that fact is even more meaningless.”

a wicked, rueful grin rests on your lips. ”so i left.”

geto doesn’t say anything. you continue, voice dripping with venom.

”i’m a civilian now,” you purr, mocking, a sardonic coo on your tongue. ”does that bother you? feel like killing me?”

…

his smile looks a little off, now. tilted in a direction you don’t want to recognize. you don’t care to examine it further, don’t care to figure out if it might look just a little bit sad, because that’d only hurt more.

so you look away.

a click of his tongue. then he speaks, with that honeyed voice, raspy and husky. almost a groan. ”well, i can’t say i approve.”

he’s looking at you. sharp eyes digging into your skin, dissecting you, a million words he expects you to grasp from that look alone.

”you’re better than them,” he states, matter-of-factly, and you try not to squirm when his eyes trail over your features. ”worlds better.” his voice sounds almost motherly, a twisted concern that makes you cower a little. like he’s scolding you. a crease between his brows.

”i don’t like the thought of you surrounded by these animals.”

a huff pushes past your lips, but it sounds shakier than you’d like it to. you hope he just chalks it up to the chill of the air. then again, when has he ever made anything easy for you?

”what, you got a problem with cats now?” you reach for the little furball licking grilled fish off the concrete, picking it up. cradling it close. ”gonna go on a cat-killing spree?”

an amused exhale. geto narrows his eyes. ”funny,” he hums, but his eyes say you know what i mean.

it takes you a moment to regain control over your breathing. there’s still something tense in your shoulders, and your heart still feels a little like it might jump out of your throat and crawl into his lap. the stray cat slips from your grasp, moving towards geto, curiously sniffing at his robes. he looks at it with no ill intent, and it puts you at ease.

”well, i appreciate the concern, buddy,” you pat his back, trying not to flinch at the contact. trying to appear relaxed. ”but frankly, i don’t give a shit. i actually like my job, unlike literally every single sorcerer on planet earth.”

geto stills.

”.. buddy?” he echoes, ignoring every other bitter word you just graced him with. for some reason, he actually seems visibly bothered. ”i’m buddy now?”

you click your tongue. muttering, tiredly. a little exasperated. ”.. what else would you be?”

and then he smiles, again. only this time, it looks oddly genuine. the same as you remember, framed by cherry blossoms and the fizzle of youth.

his movements are smooth. like he’s completely unguarded, like this situation doesn’t bother him in the slightest. elegant, in the way he leans back, palms on the concrete to support his weight. keeping eye contact with you, all the while.

when he speaks, his voice has a sweet tinge to it. nostalgic, maybe. wistful. if you hear a touch of longing, you choose to ignore it.

”i seem to recall you calling me baby quite a lot,” he hums, and you stiffen. gritting your teeth. eyes darkening, but he continues. ”what else was there? angel, i think… it was sweet.”

then he’s leaning forward. scratching the cat under its chin, gently. ”ironic, though.”

an inhale. then, an exhale. they’re a little shaky, a little meek, but at least they make the lump in your throat feel less like it’s blocking your windpipe. air fills your lungs, but it tastes like nothing at all.

something like sorrow simmers in your eyes. or maybe more like fatigue. god, you really want to cry.

(you wonder if he gets some sickening satisfaction out of seeing you like this, out of breaking you. maybe it just makes him feel rotten. you don’t know what you’d prefer.)

”suguru,” you murmur, at last. voice dripping with exhaustion. defeated, the sigh that flows from your lips. ”why did you come here?”

…

”join me.”

the words spill out into the open air, slicing the silence in half. heavy. a request, not a question. against your better judgement, you turn your head to meet his gaze.

”we could use you,” he says, and there’s hope in those keen eyes. he maintains his distance, but for some reason you still feel like prey being sized up by a predator. like he’s weighing your value.

a chuckle slips from your lips, but there’s no humour to it. ”use me…” you echo, a tired murmur under your breath. ”you're just straight up admitting it, huh? kinda refreshing.”

”that’s not what i meant.”

he inches closer. slowly, as if trying not to scare you. reaching out, to brush through your bangs, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. tangling them between your locks, inserting himself into your space. testing the waters.

you don’t look at him, completely still. barely breathing. like a wounded animal.

”i want you there,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. ”with us.”

unable to resist the temptation, you indulge in a single brief glance his way. his eyes look warm, and his lips look soft as they part.

”with me.”

there’s a devotion to his voice when he continues, one he’s always had. one you thought you’d always be able to trust. ”i’ll create a world where you can be happy,” he vows. ”i swear it.”

a moment passes.

(you swallow thickly. it takes everything you have not to burst into tears. when you remember how he brushed you off, back then, it gets a little easier. when you remember all the skipped meals.)

”.. like you give a damn.”

geto smiles. you loathe how soft it looks, how similar it is to the one suguru always had. when you used to eat your ramen too quickly and started choking on it, and he brought a palm to your upper back, patting it gently. he’d chuckle, and tell you to slow down, and the softness of his smile would almost be enough to distract you from the amusement in his eyes.

”my love.”

you flinch. breath drawing back at the base of your throat, heart screeching to a halt, and some part of you emerges; the shy, sweet kid you used to be. hanging on to his every world. like he was your sun, your guiding light. back when that purr of my love had you blushing furiously, not choking back a string of curses.

it’s sudden, and you can’t react the way you want to. you want to kill him for calling you that. for thinking he has any right to call you his, anymore.

but that sweet, naive, innocent little kid still exists. even if you want to pretend otherwise. it’s there, somewhere, that part of you — peeking out from behind the curtain. and it stops you from saying anything that might hurt him.

(it’s so hard to hate him when he calls you that.)

if geto notices your inner turmoil — he must — then he doesn’t mention it. you don’t say anything, but you hope the amused, harsh exhale you partake in is signal enough for him to cut it off. now.

yet he continues. there’s love in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. if he’s trying not to hurt you he’s doing an awful job.

”… i never stopped thinking of you,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it. ”not once. i left for you, not just for myself.”

and, despite every part of your being resisting it, a sweetness settles on your tongue. so sweet it’s sickening; the thought that maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he really has been thinking of you. maybe you’re more to him than just a means to meet an end, or a memory yet to be buried.

geto looks at the moon. bathed in moonlight, he looks a little like a god. like something reverent. his voice is honeyed. low, like a secret.

”this world doesn't deserve you.”

silence.

a subtle anger trickles through your veins, a kind of fury, subdued, carefully tucked away. sparking to life inside the depths of your eyes when you look at him. bitter, given everything. but your voice still comes out sounding something like a plea.

”and you think you do?”

another smile. this time, it looks a little sad. remorseful, maybe. ”… let me prove myself.”

his touch burns. the pads of his fingers against your cold skin, cupping your cheek. slithering down to grasp your hand. and you’re pliant, unable to react. just sitting with that aching hollow feeling in your chest.

”i wasn’t worthy, back then,” he hums, bringing your hand to his lips. ”but now…”

a kiss to your knuckle. featherlight. reverent. you try not to shiver, but when he says your name, dragging each syllable out, like they belong on his tongue —

a chill runs down your spine.

when he speaks, you feel his warm breath on your skin. it’s dizzying. ”i’m not the same suguru you once knew,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. and devotion, frighteningly sincere. ”unlike him — i’ll never let you go.”

what a twisted desire. he wants to take you with him, drag you down to hell. the suguru you knew wouldn’t put you through that. but maybe you’re even more twisted, for wishing he had; for wishing he had taken you with him, ten years ago, instead of leaving without a single goodbye.

geto’s voice is soft. coaxing, like he's handling a frightened mouse. join me, he whispers, and you think of eve. when you look at his mouth you think you see serpents’ teeth behind his lips.

(you're almost sure he notices it. and you're almost sure his smile widens, lips curling up, as if preparing to open his maw and swallow you whole.)

a sickening sense of resignation roots itself somewhere in your gut.

you pull your hand away, and he lets you. the loss of warmth hits you like a freight train, but you aren’t sure you could think clearly with his skin on yours. when you part your lips to speak, only air comes out, just barely forming a sentence. like there are no more words to say. like the world stopped spinning around you both a lifetime ago.

”i don't love you.”

…

for just a second, his smile falters.

”no?” he hums, and you wish it didn’t hurt so bad to see him hurt. his eyes carry a kind of patience, something gentle. ”it’s fine… these things take time.”

a bitter chuckle. ”like you’d know anything about waiting,” you spit, and it comes out sounding venomous. a phantom ache sprouts in the spot where his lips touched your skin.

geto closes his eyes.

”you don't need to love me,” he says, finally. kind. you hate that he still sounds so kind. so understanding, like nothing you do could be wrong in his eyes. ”as long as you're beside me, that's enough.”

he turns to look at you, and his smile looks very real, for a moment. impossibly fond. ”i have two daughters. i’ve told them about you,” he smiles. ”my family… you’d like them. i know they’d like you.”

dark clouds cover the moon, suddenly, and a shadow falls across you both. illuminated only by the streetlight. in the distance, you hear a car whooshing by.

”don’t stay at the bottom,” he beckons, and your name slips from his lips again. soft, his tongue bending around the vowels. coaxing. stirring your heartstrings like a puppeteer.

then he’s standing up, dusting off his robes, large hands smoothing down the fabric. turning around, towering over you; obscuring everything else. all you see is him, under the glow of the lamp post. a halo of artificial light.

”come. let me show you the world we can create.”

he gives you a sweet smile, two abysses gazing into you. the promise of something twisted, new, forbidden. you think of red skin and yellow flesh; the bite of sin.

and for a second, you see it. the world. a world where laughter comes from the bottom of your gut, and the trees are always ripe for picking, red apples hanging from the branches like glowing rubies. a world where sweetened fruit never give way to rot.

paradise.

geto stretches a hand out towards you. fingers unfurling, one by one, like a blooming camellia. close, right there in front of you, so close that you’re tempted to take his hand in yours, let him carry you away. burn everything else to the ground.

(you think of the serpent. you think of god.

only one of them banished eve.)

”so,” he smiles. ”what do you say?”

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sleepyangelkami · 6 months

Note

so sorry you've been having a poor experience recently, i totally get it and i'm hoping to see you back in future, you're my favorite ellie author <3 sending love!

DON'T BE SHY e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 1.1K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - for as long as you've known, you'd always been shy, off put to any social setting. however, it's come the time in your relationship that you have to branch out and meet all the people ellie always talks about, shy or not.

☆ WARNINGS - pda, shy!reader, reader obviously has social anxiety though it's not explicitly said, mentions of dadish joel to ellie, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

if ellie had to describe you in one word, she'd have to go with the word 'flower'.

that's what you were. as delicate as they come. you would hum so softly and then turn pink when you'd been caught. you were always very much out of the way, making sure you were never deemed as overstaying your welcome or overstepping in any way really. and ellie on the other hand, she was nothing if not that large piece of grass in everyone's way.

you always told ellie that she was wrong.

she was well loved in jackson, whether or not she was inserting herself places that she did not belong. you didn't mind, in fact, you were right next to her, getting strung along the entire way. yet you never opened your mouth to complain.

because how could you? you'd be a fool to complain about anything while in the arms of ellie williams.

you and ellie's relationship was the most open yet private relationship in the entire town.

everyone knew you were dating, and i mean everyone. and yet, nobody knew anything that went on behind the closed doors of your home. that was partially your fault, always shying away and stating that you liked to keep things private for there was no reason for anyone to be in your business.

ellie would have stood on the tallest building of the entire town and yelled until her lungs went raw how much she loved you dearly, if you'd asked her to.

but she knew those kind of things didn't come easy to you.

when joel met you, he swore you were a mouse in disguise of a human. you stood sort of awkwardly, practically hiding behind ellie in any way that you could, fumbling with your hands and only speaking when it was damn near necessary. and when you did speak, the words came out quiet, sort of hushed.

"so, uh." joel cleared his throat, eyes scanning his own house as if to think of questions to ask you. his eyes landed on the desk that he kept the shotgun hidden in. "do you... work?"

he sounded unlike any parent you've ever heard before. he wasn't the type of parent to grill you, question what you do and how you do it, wonder if you can even do it right. he was simply making conversation.

and though you could see that there was no judgement in his eyes, you still felt yourself practically cowering away. "I garden." you mumble, caught by surprise when he questioned a louder "huh?" not hearing you behind your frail voice.

"she said she gardens." ellie spoke for you, giving joel a sort of look. "what? are you deaf?"

joel could only stare at ellie in bewilderment. there was no way she'd heard you so clearly? he couldn't hear you any more than he heard a flower sway on the grass.

joel soon learned to watch your lips as they move and strain his ears as hard as he could. it took a little getting used to but as he grew more comfortable around you and you doing the same, you too began making changes. you didn't hide behind ellie so much and you spoke at a normal volume. well, as normal as you could.

now, you sat stranded at the tipsy bison.

ellie liked to drink now and again which was why there sat a glass in front of her filled with whiskey. you sat at her side, fumbling with your fingers as she downed the glass without so much as flinching.

you always wondered how on earth she could do that.

you glanced away, soon finding the feeling of her fingers wrapping around yours. your head turned back to her, worry swirling in your eyes. "don't be shy." she spoke, practically cooing in your face. "they're really nice, i promise."

"okay." you breathed out though your nerves didn't calm. you really hoped ellie was right about these people.

"you'll be fine." she mumbled, pressing a kiss to your head. "my brave girl."

ellie had been with you for what felt like forever and yet you'd never had the courage to meet her friends, especially not the infamous dina and jesse that the whole town always fussed about. you were nervous, scared even and when ellie's hand came down on yours, you couldn't help but feel your face inevitably heat up.

the two came in not too long after that. and to your disbelief, they truly were all they were cranked up to be.

jesse joked a lot which made you much more comfortable and dina put him in his place when any joke got a little overboard which only made you feel all the more safe.

however, the feeling of ellie's hand sat on your upper thigh had your face and body feeling all tingly inside. you wondered if the others were judging you, you really hoped they weren't.

you were speaking, ellie's fingers dancing on your thigh making your words come out a little lower. "sorry, didn't catch that last part." dina spoke, her eyes sort of wide. you could tell she was listening and that she truly was interested.

as much as you tried, you couldn't stop the way your eyes flickered towards ellie. "gotta speak up, baby." giving your thigh a little squeeze. "they can't hear you."

you cleared your throat, face pink as you did what you were told, speaking up so they could hear you better.

ellie stayed by your side for the entire thing, fingers dancing around your thigh and hands gently tracing your waist. you knew how much the girl loved physical touch and she knew how much you loved it too. whether or not you were shy, it calmed you. sure, you were worried about pda and people seeing but there was much comfort in the way her hands danced around you, holding you close.

you waited until the two left to go get another drink from the bar before sighing, puffing out all the air from behind your cheeks.

all the nerves finally let loose as you realised it was all going according to plan. they liked you, or so it seemed and nobody had said anything mean. that's all you could have hoped for.

feeling the strain on your head from all your worrying, you found yourself pushing your face into ellie's chest, finally relaxing. "see? everything's fine. you did so good." her fingers moving towards your hair, petting you as if you were an animal.

"they're really nice." you spoke, trying to ignore your hot face from her praise.

"yeah." she nodded. "they are."

you turned your face up at her, giving her the smallest of smiles. her beautiful girl. "you should have let me meet them sooner." you joked.

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

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where-does-the-heart-lie · 2 years

Text

East Blue Crew modern au!

Ive been working on this on and off for a while now.

There’s a lot here so [rings dinner bell] come get y’all’s meal

ASL Modern Au Post

Grand Line Crew Modern Au

Friends We Made Along The way post

Friends We Made Along The Way Part 2 post

Additional Headcanons:

Nami needs her own episode on extreme couponers. Sis has an entire binder dedicated to it.

Zoro cannot for the life of him beat Luffy in an arm wrestling match. No matter how much he lifts or trains, he always loses.

Zoro is actually pretty good at grilling. Sanji was pleasantly surprised when the burger that was presented to him wasnt a pile of ash/ so raw its still walking around. One day the two will have a grill off.

Usopp and Luffy love playing yugioh with eachother. Neither of them actually know the rules of the game, they just make it up as they go.

Nami used to collect american girl dolls and she keeps them in a closet in her apartment. One day when usopp luffy and chopper were snooping around, they found the accursed closet and were scared shitless.

Usopp has an ant farm and luffy thinks its the coolest shit.

In this modern au, sanji takes the place of that one guy on tiktok who makes duets with cooking videos, and films until they put the entire block of cream cheese in the crock pot.

Sanji is also this guy

Even though nami has scary dog privilege when walking with zoro, its not just beneficial to her. In fact nami has outlawed zoro from going on walks in general alone, as he would get lost and need nami to walk to him to direct him home. Nami has scary dog privilege and zoro has sense of direction privilege when they walk together

Sanji and Nami rewatch Pretty Little Liars/ Gossip Girl/ Glee/ and other CW drama shows together.

Nami and Usopp always be shit talking someone/something. They are hateful bitches.

How luffy meets each of them:

Zoro- they met each other because the 24 hr gym Zoro works in is right down the street from Luffy’s apartment and one day Luffy was walking by at around 3 am and noticed Zoro in there. Luffy asks him if he wants to join him fucking around at 3 am on the streets of this city area they live in and Zoro accepts after a little convincing from Luffy. When they get outside Zoro’s like

“where’s the rest?”

“Of what?”

“Of your friends”

“Its just you rn”

“… :| i mean, i had assumed you werent alone”

“Nope!”

“HA OkAy”

Nami- they took the same economics course together. They were paired up in a project and hit it off after that and often had study sessions together. Their defining friendship maker though, was they teamed up to steal the answer key to the test they were both definitely going to fail because the class was bullshit.

Usopp- they had taken a graphic design course together. Luffy had no idea what he was doing the entire time and Usopp was very happy that he could impart his wisdom uponst this newcomer to the arts. Although luffy did already have some… incredible(?) art skills of his own already. It was instant chemistry for them honestly, their synergy just clicked and before they knew it, they were besties.

Sanji- works in the restaurant thats underneath the ASL brothers’ apartment complex. Their fist encounter with the restaurant was not of them going in to eat there, though. The trio were throwing around the ol’ pig skin in the street in front of their complex when luffy failed to catch the ball, and accidentally ricocheted it into the front window of the Baratie, through the eating area, over the counter, and into Mr. Zeff’s face. Zeff stormed out of the eatery and asked which of them destroyed his glass and hit him in the head

And luffy looks over and notices his brothers selling him out and is like “HEY!!! D:” So luffy was stationed as the place’s chore boy and met sanji while working there. 2 years later the debt was repayed, sanji and luffy are friends, and the Baratie is ASL’s fav eating place due to the great food, delightfully violent vibes, and great company.

thats all for now, hope you enjoyed!

#my art #one piece #one piece fan art #monkey d. luffy #headcanons #east blue crew #roronoa zoro #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #usopp #nami #one piece modern au #straw hat crew

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dragonridernoobie · 3 months

Note

Glad to see a undertale au author still up and running.

Thoughts on writing a feral underfell bitty sans (possibly abandoned, escaped from a bad place, neglected? Who knows) the reader finds injured and patches them up + befriends them?

Some bitty fics include feral bitties travelling together, like a horror or classic sans with a fell.

Basically, go nuts, no strict requests. Interpret it how ever you like :)

Hope you like this request, idk just enjoying the fandom.

Enjoy the rest of your day/night ^-^

I am so happy to do this! It reminded me of a picture I found on Pinterest that I wanted to adopted fell san bitty. Here is the picture. Also, I'm gonna do it with fell and horror since they where abandon for there looks and attitude.

To anyone else reading this: You will adopt him, and if you don't, I will find out where you live and kill you. Then I'm gonna bring you're ass back from hell and make you write a sorry letter to a fictional character.

Enjoy <3

FellSansBitty X Reader X HorrorSansBitty

It was just a normal day in Ebbot city. All you wanted to do was get a coffee and some treats but mother nature decided that you where gonna deal with nature and threw the biggest Strom the city has seen.

You where currently running down the street, you're jacket over you're head to stop getting wet.

While on you're way back home, you ran by a alley you passed a million times. Though, this time was different. You heard crying. You stopped and tried to listen over the heavey thunder and rain but you couldn't.

When you got closer, you where able to hear it clearer. When a loud thundering boom made it's present, you heard a whimper. When you followed the noise, you came across a wet, broken down box. On the front it said "bitty for sale." There were numbers also scratched out.

25$, 15$, 5$, and free. You looked inside and you saw a bitty. Bittys where interduced to human kind when monsters arrived above ground.

Humans took them quickly and made more of them. They are now used for therapy, friends, pets, and teatchers for the disabled.

Though there were times when bittys did stuff they were not meant to do. Like bitting, talking back, and actually running away from their owners. People called then "broken bittys."

When that stuff happened, people would take them and dust them or put them down in human words. You did not believe in that way since it was wrong, and living things should have free will.

So when you opened the soggy broken box open, you came face to face with the bitty. It looked up at you, scared but also hissed at you in fear.

You used your best smoothing voice to calm into bitty and reach your hand out. Showing it that it can get on your hand if it wants.

When another loud thundering boom was heard, it quickly grabbed you're hand and you slowly raised it up.

Now that it was in your hand, you quickly brought it underneth your jacket and got a closer look at it

It looked like....

FellSanBitty

It looked like a little cherry. It had a big furry black and yellow jacket and shorts.

It had red eyelights.

It looked at you while you stood up and quickly ran to you're house.

Once you reached you're house, you where quick to grab a towel and help the bitty dry off.

It grumble and snapped at you, saying it can do it it's delf

Once it was dru, you interduce youreself. "Hi, my name is (Y/N). What's you're name?"

"....sans...but I like being called red...."

You nod and ask him if he wants food.

You make him some grilled cheese and give it to him.

He complains that the grilled cheese was too cheesy, but he was lying that he hated it since he was eating it faster, then he could chew it.

You had to tell him a few times to slow down.

While he eats, you asked him why he was in that box.

Red stopped eating and looked at the ground.

"No one wants a mean looking bitty..."

Obviously you don't like that so you pet his head and say to him. "I don't think you look mean looking. I think you look tough."

Red looks at you surpised. He looked at you like you were joking, but how you were petting him, you wernt joking.

He blushes and pushes you're hand away.

"I ain't cute."

You chuckle and nod. "Of corse you're not."

"I said I ain't fuckin cute! Now stop fucking petting me!"

You guys are gonna have a instresting relationship.

Pretend that's you're hand.

HorrorSansBitty

When you got a better look at the bitty in you're hand, it looked hurt.

It had a hole in its head, torn up clothes, and seemed to be shaking from the cold.

You held it aginst youreself and ran home.

Once home, you quickly grabbed a towl and help it dry it off, being mindful of its hole in the head.

Once dry, you asked him for a name.

"......sans......but people call me horror."

You nod and ask if he wants some grilled cheese.

His eyes seem to shine at the sound of food and quickly nods.

You make some and give it to him.

You watch him devour the grilled cheese in seconds.

You had to tell him to slow down.

Once he was done eating, you asked the hardest question.

"Why where you in that box?"

Horror stopped eating the crumbs and looked down

"No one wants a broken looking bitty."

You're hurt by his words but after a bit, you take 2 fingers and pet his good side of his skull.

He immediately looked at you surpised but smile and purred.

You just got a skeloton cat bitty.

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zombvic · 3 months

Note

enemies to lovers w kenan??🙏🙏

EYE TO EYE (kenan yildiz x reader)

summary : in which y/n and a certain turkish-german football player dont see eye to eye

face claim : no one exact

notes : thank you for the request !! hope its like you wanted :3

pairings : kenan yildiz x reader , childhood "enemies"

Ever since you can remember, Kenan has been a constant presence in your life. From childhood, you two never saw eye to eye. He was always around, whether it was a family dinner, a holiday gathering, or a neighborhood barbecue. The day your families became intertwined marked the start of what seemed like the ideal love story—the boy and girl next door. But reality was far from that.

As your families grew closer, it seemed like opposites attracted for them. Kenan was considered the typical jock: charismatic, popular, always surrounded by friends, and stereotypically, a football player. You, on the other hand, were far more reserved but possessed a strangely attractive confidence.

Kenan always challenged you. As the years passed, your dynamic didn't change. Your parents wanted you to be friends, but neither of you made the effort. Despite your parents' close friendship and frequent attempts to foster a bond between you, neither cared enough.

As you both grew older, the dynamics shifted subtly. The teasing evolved into playful banter, and the challenges turned into a mutual respect for each other's strengths. Yet, beneath the surface, there was an unspoken understanding that perhaps there was more to your relationship than met the eye.

"Y/n, the Yildiz family invited us for a get-together. Make sure you're on your best behavior," your mother said. You never really understood it; it wasn't you who made a huge deal out of your petty arguments. Hell, it wasn't even you who started the arguments. But it was never Kenan who got scolded; no, he was too perfect for that, wasn't he?

"And please, no more fighting. The last barbecue was more than enough." Ah, yes, the last barbecue—it ended with a small fire and a broken ankle. Obviously, it was my ankle; his football career would be in shambles if he broke his ankle during a friends and family event. But it wasn't my fault; he brought up the famous debate of who's the GOAT of Formula 1. I mean, you're literally German, what do you mean you don't think Schumi is the GOAT? The debate was supposed to be settled by a friendly game of pingpong, but it didn't end so friendly. What was I supposed to do, not dodge the racket he THREW at me? In my humble opinion, my actions were more than justified.

As my mom knocked on their front door, we were greeted by Engin, Kenan's father. Their house was cozy, shared between the parents and three boys. Every time we went over, the atmosphere was welcoming.

Kenan stood at the doorway, a sheepish grin on his face as he welcomed us inside. "Hey, Y/n," he greeted me, his tone surprisingly friendly despite our history.

"Hey," I replied, trying to mask the uneasy feeling his presence always seemed to stir in me. His eyes held some sort of amusement, as if he could sense my discomfort. I walked past to enter the familiar space of their kitchen connected to the backyard entrance.

Engin ushered us towards the backyard where the rest of the family and a few guests were gathered around the barbecue grill. Kenan's brothers were playing football in the yard, their laughter blending with the hum of conversation.

"Hope you're hungry," Engin chuckled, flipping a burger on the grill. "We've got plenty to go around."

Kenan slid next to me as we walked to the table, his voice low. "So, how's life?" he asked with genuine interest.

I hesitated for a moment, surprised by his sudden sincerity. "Um, it's been alright," I replied cautiously. "Busy with school and all."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I get that. Are you still into that video editing thing you were doing last summer?"

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise that he remembered. "Yeah, actually. I've gotten some offers from certain companies."

"That's really cool," he said with a nod, a hint of admiration in his voice.

We reached the table where the food was laid out, and Kenan held out a plate for me to take first. I couldn't help but notice the small gesture of consideration, a far cry from our usual banter or tense interactions.

"Thanks," I said quietly, feeling a flicker of warmth towards him that I hadn't expected. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Kenan than the cocky football player I always assumed him to be.

As the evening went on, the atmosphere at the barbecue shifted from tentative civility to a surprising ease between Kenan and Y/n. Engin's expert grilling skills were matched by his knack for storytelling, keeping everyone entertained with humorous anecdotes from his youth. The smell of grilled meat filled the air, mingling with laughter and the occasional cheer from the ongoing soccer match in the yard.

Kenan and Y/n found themselves drawn into a playful banter over who could stack their burger higher with toppings, each trying to outdo the other with combinations that ranged from classic to unconventional. It became a mini competition, with Kenan daring Y/n to try his "ultimate burger creation" while she countered with her own daring concoction of flavors.

"You're seriously putting pineapple and jalapenos together?" Kenan raised an eyebrow, eyeing Y/n's bold choice of toppings skeptically.

"Why not?" Y/n grinned mischievously, carefully balancing the overflowing tower of burger ingredients. "It's a winning combo."

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief as he expertly flipped another burger on the grill. "Alright, I'll admit, you've got guts. Let's see if it actually tastes as good as it looks."

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the backyard, Kenan's brothers approached with mischievous grins on their faces. "Hey, Kenan! Y/n! How about a friendly game of football?" they called out enthusiastically, kicking a soccer ball playfully towards them.

Kenan glanced at Y/n with a raised eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You guys sure you want to challenge us? You might regret it," he teased, his competitive spirit already rising to the surface.

Y/n chuckled, feeling a surprising rush of excitement at the prospect of playing alongside Kenan instead of against him for once. "Bring it on, boys," she replied confidently, flashing a grin that mirrored Kenan's.

With a nod from Kenan, they divided into teams—Kenan and Y/n against his brothers. The game started with playful banter and competitive energy, but something shifted as they played. Kenan's skill on the field was undeniable, his passes precise and his movements fluid. Y/n found herself naturally falling into sync with him, their teamwork surprisingly effortless.

They communicated with quick glances and nods, strategizing on the fly and covering each other's positions seamlessly. Kenan's brothers put up a good fight, but Kenan and Y/n's teamwork proved to be a formidable force.

"Nice pass!" Kenan called out as Y/n dribbled past Eren with skillful footwork, earning an approving nod from him.

"You're pretty good at football, Kenan. You should consider becoming a professional," Y/n joked with a playful smirk.

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head modestly. "I don't know about that. I'd probably miss all the glamour of backyard games like this."

"Get a room, lovebirds," His brothers teased from the sidelines, a mischievous grin on their face.

Y/n rolled her eyes, playfully nudging Kenan. "Ignore him. They're just jealous that we make a better team than they do."

The game continued with laughter, cheers, and occasional playful taunts exchanged between teams. As the friendly competition progressed, Kenan and you found themselves enjoying each other's company in a way they hadn't before. The usual tension and rivalry gave way to shared goals and a shared sense of accomplishment each time they scored or defended together.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky and the game wound down, The brothers conceded defeat with good humor, congratulating Kenan and Y/n on their victory.

"You guys were awesome!" Kenans brother exclaimed, grinning broadly as he bumped fists with Kenan and Y/n. "We'll have to challenge you again sometime."

Kenan chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Anytime, little bro. Just be prepared to lose again," he teased playfully.

As they gathered their breath and laughter echoed in the cooling evening air, Y/n couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of camaraderie with Kenan. Working together had brought out a side of him she hadn't seen before—the focused, determined athlete who also knew how to have fun and appreciate teamwork.

"Thanks for the game, Y/n," Kenan said quietly, his tone sincere as he glanced at her with a soft smile.

You nodded, feeling a smile tug at your lips in response. "Likewise, Kenan. It was... refreshing," she admitted, surprising herself with the honesty of her words.

As they shared a meaningful smile, the evening continued with laughter, shared stories, and the hope for more moments like this—where they weren't basically on the verge of killing eachother, but actual friends, if not more.

im sorry this kinda doesnt have plot and sounds kinda npc but erm ! ignore that plz

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #kenan yildiz x reader #kenan yildiz #juventus fc #fluff

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Text

Vampire König Headcanons

Warnings: Nondescript Depictions/Implications of Smut, Territorial König, Jealous König, Dominant König, Submissive König, Domestic König <3, Marking, Consensual Dub-Con, Restraints, Abuse of Vampire Powers, Feeding, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Injuries, König using Urban Dictionary, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

So domestic that it hurts.

6’10 military vampire boyfriend in a pink frilly kitchen apron that says ‘Love, Peace and Hope’ on the front of it >>>>

Seriously, though, he’s the most caring of his kind (if you exclude Simon) and is so gentle and loving that you could scarcely believe what he was until he showed you his fangs and his abilities.

Don’t be fooled by his kind nature, though; he’s given you more protection than you’ll ever need with his scary dog privileges. Ones which ward off humans and other supernaturals alike.

And, given how tall he is, you don’t see the death stares he gives to bystanders; all you see is a path being cleared in front of you, people scrambling out of your way in what you may construe as consideration. Or terror.

Speaking of König’s gargantuan proportions, he needs more blood to survive than the average vampire. More than you, or any other human, can possibly provide.

Luckily, he only feeds from animals. Mostly.

Their taste is not as exquisite as human blood, not being as clean by comparison (particularly in pests, like rats), but he makes do. Especially when it’s for your own safety; to protect you from his blood rage when he hits a draught.

But, regardless of his masterful self-control, there comes a point where his palette can no longer stand the taste of disease and death in his blood supply, his thirst becoming so dire that he needs human blood. Now.

The first time you saw him like this, you panicked, asked what was wrong.

He told you he was fine as he gripped the kitchen counter, crushing the marble – that he just needed to go to sleep, giving a vague smile and no explanation.

It was only after being grilled and your concern melting his resolve that König’s resolution gave out, and he confessed his greatest shame. His strongest vice.

And, without knowing how dangerous he could get while feeding, you, in all your kindness and virtue, offered yourself to him.

“I know it’s not much, but I can try to find you something else for you, too !”

Never has a human who has known of his true nature been so selfless as to put their life on the line for his own survival.

Long story short, he eventually caved to your generosity and, when he tasted your blood, knew there was no finer delicacy he could tear from any planet in any universe.

You are the only one for him.

In return, he’ll try to cook and care for you. And, surprisingly, he’s pretty good at it !

Has all your favourite dishes memorised. Whether you told him or not.

He tries not to use his mind reading abilities on you, though sometimes, it slips out, hence he knows so much about you despite you never having uttered the specifics to him.

Whenever he’s feeling fragile (jealous) about you liking an actor or a character you’re watching, he’ll use his powers to ever so slightly see what you’d like to do with them.

Or what you’d like them to do to you.

This often leads to some very specific practices occurring in the bedroom.

When König is feeling particularly dominant, he tends to get quite…forceful.

All within the realm of consent, of course.

This side of him is typically triggered by jealousy, though it is not a punishment.

Far from it.

This is your reward for being so loyal – so disinterested in the advances of others, whether supernatural or otherwise.

“Say that you’re mine,” König growls, his fangs slick and protruding against your throat, coated in saliva, as if he were rabid. The weight of spectral chains forcing your body to be still and subservient is heavy upon your mortal vessel.

His hands have torn through your underwear, your only barrier against the merciless ecstasy you will be subject to on this night.

“Or you won’t leave this night unscathed.”

Consensual dub-con and restraints <333 !!1!

Fr though, König would never use his telekinesis on you unless you expressly asked him to, because, unlike many of his kind, he’s got a human side.

One which he only shows to you.

This much is apparent when he puts himself in your hands and gives himself to you in his entirety.

Becomes the antithesis of the typical bloodthirsty, cynical, overlord vampire stereotype when he’s feeling submissive.

The type to say “Please, Darling,” when he needs you to touch him.

Pull on his hair and he’s D E C E A S E D (more so than he already is).

He’s been touch-starved his entire mortal and immortal life, never having found someone special enough to make him feel comfortable, so his imploring for you to touch him is, whether you know it or not, a big honour – and a commitment for König.

Speaking of, he adores cuddles.

Both giving and receiving.

Not that you know this, but sometimes he intentionally crushes you into his chest between his pecs because once you called him your “Big tiddie himbo”, and it’s stuck with him since.

Plus, you also like to motorboat them sometimes.

Yeah, he had to go onto Urban Dictionary to find out what himbo meant. No, he did not delete his search history afterwards, so now you know his second greatest shame; his lack of fluency with modern terms.

Sometimes, you’ll drop random turns of phrase to see what his reaction will be; whether he’ll pretend to know what you’re saying or if he’ll submit and tell you he has no idea what he just said.

“König, you’re so rizzular, you know that ?”

“Uuuhhh…yeah ! You…too…?”

He does get a little insecure about it, but that’s nothing compared to how he feels whenever his friends come and visit.

Other vampires and supernaturals, naturally. And, regardless of their status, he’s always on the edge of his seat, wondering if you’ll take one look at them and decide to leave him in pursuit of another.

It doesn’t matter how many times you try to reassure him; König is dead set on his doomsday premonition (a panic attack he had while asleep once) that you’ll leave him.

“Köni, Baby,” you say, voice gentle as you cradle his head to your chest, sat bundled in amongst the blankets on the sofa. “I’m never leaving you. Even when I’m a ghost, I’m going to haunt you forever !”

He has thought about turning you, btw.

A LOT.

But he can never seem to find the right time to broach the subject; especially when you’ve told him how you have no interest in being immortal. At least, not yet.

“You’re only human once,” you tell him, smiling. And, somehow, König can feel his heart skipping a beat.

Until his friends leave, König puts on the facade of someone who has never felt an ounce of panic in his life.

Mad territorial.

Keeps you sat on his lap or tucked away in a hidden part of the house for the duration of his friends’ visit.

And God forbid if any of them try to touch you.

There have been many an occasion where you and König have been left cleaning up blood spatters soaked into your carpet and walls because König’s instincts kicked in, causing him to disarm whoever had been stupid enough to make physical contact with you.

Yeah, König feels bad that he ruined your new carpet, but would he do it all again to protect your honour ?

Absolutely.

Yeah, okay, sometimes he does intentionally mark you up the night before the guests arrive. Yes, he does hide any articles of clothing that could cover his love bites up.

“I just want them to know that you’re mine,” he tells you, almost whimpering, his eyes wide and almost tearful when you give him a narrowed look.

“König, you’re mauled off enough hands that they couldn’t un-know that we’re together even if they tried !”

And, at the end of the night, you’ll either be met with a very prideful König, whose powers you can feel weighing heavier on your shoulders by the minute. Or, puppy König, who comes bounding over to you, his eyes bright with nothing short of a lifetime’s adoration.

Either way, König wants you to know that you are thoroughly loved, and no measure of mortality, or time, or distance will ever change that.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

#mw2 #mw2 smut #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig smut #konig headcanons #konig call of duty #konig x you #konig x yn #konig x y/n #könig smut #könig x reader #mw2 headcanons #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #konig fluff #konig fanfiction

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eddiesghxst · 10 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 9/12)

HIIII HERE SHE IS!! i hope u enjoyyyy <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you have questions and eddie needs to get something off of his chest

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, sexual themes, angst, feelings feelings feelings, and eddie going through a crisis <3

word count: 5.1k

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| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Eddie’s gonna be sick.

There’s a sweet smell of pancakes and coffee wafting through the air and a dizzying chatter dancing amongst the table, and Eddie’s going to be sick.

He’s not sure why because all he’s had was a cup of throat coat, half a French toast, and a cigarette, but he has a feeling it has something to do with the empty chair across from him. Or maybe it’s the guilt that’s been churning in his gut since the moment he stepped out of your room last night. Or maybe it’s the realization of the truth that Eddie was forced to admit when Richie found him at the studio early this morning.

Eddie’s not sure who told Richie or how much of the story Richie knows, but Eddie hates feeling like this— feeling out of control. It’s a sick feeling Eddie had been used to when growing up, but now that he’s older and has his career and money, Eddie does everything in his power to never get into situations like this— and nine times out of ten, these situations only come with things like the press.

And it’s upsetting— the way this has spun out— because Eddie knew this would be the result, and he was so desperate to avoid it in the beginning, but he’s not sure when that persistence vanished. Somewhere along the line, you managed to find the split in Eddie. The part that needed fixing the most. Eddie’s not sure where that split is, but he feels it, and the change— you— has seeped too deep into his skin to dig out, and Eddie is panicking.

He’s been panicking since yesterday— since he fucking pulled out of you, and you looked at him like he was the only person you’ve ever really seen. Like you were seeing him in color for the first time.

He couldn’t think because all that tossed around in his mind was you.

He couldn’t speak because all that would form on his tongue was your name.

He couldn’t breathe because all he would inhale and exhale was your scent.

He was drowning in you yesterday. Sinking like a stone, quicker than he’d ever intended to— because, believe it or not, Eddie was ready to take the plunge.

He was ready to try and figure out his path of redemption from being the asshole you (rightfully so) hate to someone you could maybe forgive and tolerate. The first step to that was supposed to be the song from the show, but fucking James ruined that.

It was all fucked. Everything was fucked. The way Eddie was going to apologize was flipped upside down, and you both moved too quick, and now Eddie’s in way over his head— because jesus christ, Richie grilled the shit out of him this morning.

Eddie’s going to be sick.

“Anyone know what’s up with Rich this morning?” One of the crew members asks. Jeff shrugs, tossing a grape into his mouth, “Beats me. He’s always upset about something, though.”

Eddie tries to muster through the rest of breakfast, but when Richie comes back into the room without you in tow, Eddie decides he can’t sit here a moment longer with that empty chair staring at him.

Although Eddie practically begs Richie to let him skip out of the group interview, he still finds himself walking down the hall of the hotel. The interview is being held in Richie’s suite and was originally planned to be a few days after the residency was over, but a change of plans with photoshoots in LA caused some last-minute alterations to the planned schedule.

Eddie spent the day holed up in a friend's studio. He hasn’t seen you since breakfast, and the day is almost over now, so it’s safe to say the initial shell-shock feeling of the sticky situation he’s tossed you both into has somewhat dissolved. Eddie didn’t record anything at the studio; he only wrote, and the change of scenery, with the added peace away from his friends/bandmates, gave him a more open space to figure his thoughts out.

So, when Eddie sees you walking out of your room, he immediately knows now is his chance to do what he’s been milling about in his head all day— because when Eddie said sorry and when he spent hours fucking you into your bed to show you just how sorry he was, he meant it— and he needs to tell you that before things get misconstrued as they always do.

You’re not paying attention, too focused on sorting through the questions you’ve prepared for the band, so you’re face is riddled with shock when Eddie places a hand on your shoulder.

“I think we should maybe talk…”

Eddie’s not sure what he expected you to say, but he sure as hell didn’t expect you to turn to him and nod, “Yeah, I think we should.” Eddie nods as well, taking a breath and opening his mouth to speak, but you’re cutting him off before he can even fully form his thoughts, “Where the fuck have you been?”

And that’s not what Eddie thought you would start with, but it’s better than he expected. “Um—”

“I’ve been signing papers all fucking day thanks to you,” You stress, “And the only person that has any answers to the millions of questions I have is you, but you’ve been missing in action all fucking day, so what the fuck?” You snap.

Eddie’s face pinches in confusion, “Signing papers? What papers?”

You scoff, sarcastically shrugging, “I don’t know, maybe the fucking NDAs Richie piled onto me, again, because of you,” You’re tone is dripping in irritation, and Eddie only finds your disgruntled look to be cute. “Thanks for that, by the way. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I’m not here to ruin your life, but the last thing I want to do is tell the world all about how I was dumb enough to let you fuck me.”

You don’t exactly care that a cleaning maid is just a few doors down, but Eddie does because this is precisely how shit gets into the press. “Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters, wrapping a hand around your arm and tugging you off into the small ice room off to the side. “Would you lower your fucking voice?” Eddie grumbles as he presses you into the open space beside the vending machine, creating some sense of secrecy from anyone passing by.

Your eyebrows furrow in annoyance as you glare at Eddie, “Why does it even matter when you’ve been practically screaming it from the rooftops?” You point out. Eddie waves a hand and squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head in dismissal, “I didn’t tell Richie shit.” He argues.

And it’s the truth. Eddie didn’t tell Richie anything— he hasn’t told anyone anything aside from what little to the story Jeff and Gareth know. But they would never say something to Richie about it, right?

You snap Eddie from his train of thought, “Then where did you go last night, Eddie?” You ask.

And well, Eddie doesn’t think he’s ready to confess that he practically had a panic attack when he realized he likes you— like, really, really likes you. He’s not ready to admit that he spent the night at the studio, scribbling down words and mixing sounds, cutting clips of his voice, and perfecting it until he passed out from exhaustion. He’s not ready to admit that.

Eddie goes silent, gaze dark and filled with hesitance. His jaw ticks, and he replies with a snap, “It doesn’t matter.” He shifts to turn around and leave— because that’s what he does best— but you reach out to wrap a warm hand around his wrist, and Eddie— god, Eddie’s heart skips a few beats.

“If I had to sign a goddamn NDA, the least you can do is tell me where you went.”

And you’re right. God, isn’t this precisely what Eddie was just writing about?

It’s not difficult, Eddie says to himself. Just tell her you went to the studio— maybe even offer to show her what you were working on.

Eddie thinks he would rather chew bricks.

Before Eddie can fully prepare a response, Gareth pokes his head into the room, glancing between the two of you as you quickly drop Eddie’s hand. Gareth fails to hold back a grin at the scene before him, and Eddie’s shoulders stiffen from the tense situation between you that Gareth fails to catch onto. Gareth points over his shoulder, “Unless you want Richie to start flipping out from wasted time, I suggest you guys head back to the room so we can start.”

“It’s chaotic.”

“Your known sound or the new sound?”

“Both.”

You laugh, shifting in your seat as you twirl your pen between your fingers. Jeff expands on Gareth’s comment, “I would say our past music is chaotic in general, but the newer stuff we have coming is more of an… orchestrated chaos.”

Gareth snorts at Jeff’s answer and mumbles something along the lines of melodrama before Eddie pitches in, “There’s more of a structure to this record. Our past albums have been like… multiple stories in one, and it can be overwhelming, but it’s also exciting because you never know where you’re going next,” Eddie talks with his hands, jewelry clinking with each wave as he glances at you, “And I think this album still has that type of excitement, but it’s more… interconnected. Like there’s bits and pieces of every track within the next one, and it’s just… it’s a fuller experience.”

It’s beautiful— how Eddie thinks and speaks and forms his thoughts about music. It’s so captivating that you could spend forever listening to him talk about music. Gareth is saying something, but you’re hardly listening because you can feel Eddie’s gaze on you, and it makes every hair on your body stand.

When you finish writing a note, you clear your throat before glancing back up at the boys as if your heart isn’t beating out of your chest. “In relation to this topic, do any of you have a specific idea or sound you’d like to explore in the future, maybe?”

Jeff hums, “I grew up listening to a ton of Janis Joplin— and shit like Jimi Hendrix— so I've always had a love for that kind of clash between rock and blues. So, maybe something along those lines." It's utterly off-track from what Corroded Coffin sings, but Jeff, you've come to learn, is the most mellow of the group, so you're not as surprised as most would be.

The boys each answer the question, eventually blending into each other to create one extensive conversation. You ask them what they plan to do when they’re old enough to retire. Gareth wants to venture into the art world; unbeknownst to you, he’s had a knack for art since middle school. Jeff wants to do something with producing, and right before Eddie gets the chance to answer, Richie steps in, clearing his throat and reminding you of the time.

You seem to have lost track of time in your conversation. The boys have a line of press interviews today, but you have more than enough content to complete the article. You thank the boys for giving their time and being compliant, and as you file out of the room, Gareth turns to you, “Are you coming to the dinner tonight?” He asks. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Dinner?”

Jeff steps up beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you all step into the hallway, “Of course, she’s coming to the dinner, dumbass; it’s for the entire crew.” He flicks at Gareth’s shoulder. Gareth bats at Jeff’s hand, “Sorry, I didn’t know if that included journalists.” He bites back with a light shove to Jeff’s shoulder.

“I’m afraid I don’t know this dinner you’re talking about.” You chip in. Gareth and Jeff glance at each other before Jeff clears his throat, “Uh— Eddie didn’t tell you?”

Of fucking course, it reflects to Eddie. You shake your head, glancing around the hall, only to see that Eddie is nowhere to be seen. Jeff nods, removing his arm from your shoulder and shrugging, “Well, there’s a dinner tonight, and we have some family and friends coming in from Hawkins, so you’re obviously invited regardless of Eddie’s lack of communication skills.” Jeff jokingly concludes. You nod with a small smile, “I’ll most likely be working through this,” You raise your journal, “But I hope all goes well.”

You don’t stick around to see the looks Gareth and Jeff exchange because you’re too busy trying not to be bothered by the fact that Eddie purposely didn’t tell you about the dinner. But then again, can you blame Eddie? You’ve only known each other for a month, and that entire month has been full of mixed feelings, arguments, and selfish kisses.

Still, you find yourself feeling estranged and saddened— because, despite your complicated relationship, if the roles were reversed, you know you would’ve extended the invitation.

Eddie glances over himself in the mirror for what seems like the millionth time.

It’s stupid, the nerves coursing through his veins, but then again, what Eddie’s about to do could potentially put him on his ass if it goes wrong. Wrong, meaning you say no, curse him out, and tell him to fuck off for the rest of his life. He’d deserve it, sure, but that doesn’t mean it would lessen the sting either way.

There’s a cassette tape in his hand as he walks up to your room, 403, the numbers that seem to be engraved in his mind at this point. He taps the thick band of his ring against the clear case of the tape, teeth digging into his cheek as he knocks on your door.

The silence is deafening as he waits, and Eddie debates if he should just make a run for it before he makes a fool of himself, but then you open the door. And you’re so pretty, and Eddie’s fingers tighten around the tape for a split moment to ground himself because— fuck, what does he say? Why is he here again?

You’re staring at him with a blank gaze, bored and intimidating enough to have Eddie wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

Eddie clears his throat and shifts in his spot, “Are you busy?” You blink, glancing down at the tape in his hand before looking back at him. “Why?”

Well, there’s no going back, Eddie thinks. He raises the tape into your view, “I just need an hour. Just one hour so I can explain.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning against the door, and boredly blink, “Explain what?”

Eddie shrugs, heart racing in his chest as he subtly shakes his head, “Everything.”

Eddie didn’t think you would say yes.

Honestly speaking, Eddie thinks you’re slightly insane for saying yes, but he doesn’t take it for granted— because now, Eddie is walking down Barclay St with you right beside him. It’s busy now that everybody’s 9-5 shift has ended, and there’s a slight breeze kicking in as you trek through the sea of people.

You’re dressed in sneakers, jeans, and a light sweater to keep you warm— and Eddie thinks it’s adorable how the sleeves drape over your hands and how you fuss over it occasionally.

Transit is quicker to where Eddie is taking you, and the subway is always crowded and hectic, so Eddie doesn’t think about it when he grabs your hand as you trot down the subway steps. Your hand is warm and soft beneath his palm, and it feels so natural when you shift your thumb across the back of his hand, trying to keep up with his far strides.

Somebody bumps into you, and Eddie instinctively pulls you closer to him, gazing down at you as he asks if you’re okay. You nod, and Eddie squeezes your hand before continuing on the path to the train.

When you and Eddie get settled on the train, Eddie thinks you might hold onto his hand for the entire ride, but he’s sadly mistaken when you slip from his hold to fold your hands in your lap.

Eddie ignores the pang in his chest.

Eddie has dragged you all the way to Manhattan to stick you in a booth near the back of an old diner called Keens Steakhouse. You’ve never been here, but you’ve heard of it in passing; however, you wish Eddie had told you to wear something nicer instead of this oversized blanket of a sweater you have on.

Eddie is wearing jeans, a shirt, and a leather jacket, so you didn’t think much about what to wear— but that’s Eddie. Eddie Munson, the famous rockstar. Why would he care about the clothes he wears to some diner he’s probably eaten at a million times before?

The diner has dim lighting, but the tables are well-lit with a candle. Your waiter hands you two menus and a bottle before leaving you both to scan over the food items. You don’t bother to open your menu, watching Eddie fill your glasses with a rich wine. Eddie glances at you before clearing his throat, “The chef makes a mean filet mignon, by the way,” He begins as he sets the bottle aside, “And I’m not a big seafood person, but the shrimp is good.”

You say nothing, waiting for Eddie to stop beating around the bush and tell you why he made you trek across the city for wine. He glances at you, faltering for a split moment as he speaks, “We can change tables if you—” You shake your head with a wave of your hand, “It’s not that, Eddie, it’s just—” You huff, “Why are we here? Like, why did you bring me here?”

Eddie shifts in his seat and clears his throat, tapping his finger against the table once before taking a slow breath, “I think… I think it’s best if I explain my side of things before shit spins out of control.” He’s struggling to start, but the words slip from you before you can stop it, “You don’t think it’s too late for that?”

Eddie’s eyes are soft and pleading when he glances at you, pretty lips tucking between his lips as he shrugs, “I was hoping not…”

God, it’s weird seeing Eddie like this— teetering on the edge of vulnerability as he practically begs you to hear him out— if you weren’t so keen on hearing if he has something genuine to say, then you would’ve left a long time ago for the sake of his sanity.

Because you’re selfish and hope to hear something good, you nod, encouraging him to continue.

Eddie fidgets with the rings on his fingers as he begins to speak, “First things first, I just wanna get this out of the way,” He gazes at you, “I didn’t tell Richie anything. If anything, my guess would be someone from the crew told him, but I won’t list off any names.” He waves off.

You know he means James because who else would Eddie be talking about? But even though you strongly feel it wasn’t James, you don’t counteract Eddie’s silent claim. However, you’re not strong enough to hold back a quick roll of your eyes.

“And secondly… about last night.” He falters, and you take a deep breath before shifting in your seat. “It’s fine if you regret it, Eddie. You didn’t need to drag me here to say that; we can just forget it ever happened.”

You’re unsure if that’s what Eddie wanted to say, but you would rather be the first to call it out to save whatever dignity you have left. But Eddie quickly shakes his head, brown eyes wide and soft as he squashes that idea, “No! No, I don’t regret last night at all. I— that’s not why I brought you here.” And Eddie looks at you like he won’t ever get a chance to fix what he destroyed.

A steady exhale and the curling of his fingers into his palm, and you wish you were closer to him, even if he’s done nothing but push you away. You want to feel him. And sure, the flicker of his gaze down to your hand might imply that he wants the same, but you drop your hands to lay in your lap instead of the table, willing him to continue talking.

He clears his throat, “I shouldn’t have left— and honestly, I didn’t even want to leave,” His admission has your head ticking in confusion, “I wanted to stay with you, and I wanted—” He takes a breath, earth soaked eyes locking onto yours, “I left because I knew I didn’t deserve to stay.”

Well fuck, your heart is practically the wings of a hummingbird in your chest. It’s the most open Eddie has ever been with you aside from the time you shared alone in the dressing room, except now you are finally facing the truth of what is unfolding between you.

Wayne’s words spin in your mind for a split moment, “Eddie doesn’t know what to do with nice… He hasn’t had much of that in his life.”

And you wonder why? What happened to create the beautiful mess sitting before you, waving his torn and stained white flag, calling off his troops to meet you in no man's land? And there’s a vast field behind Eddie that you have yet to discover, and there’s the same behind you, patiently waiting for whoever is willing to take the time and map out the intricate paths and valleys. You selfishly want it to be the man in front of you.

“I don’t know how to treat the people who selflessly care for me. I never got that, and it’s weird and new to me, and I didn’t understand how you could do that for— not just me, but practically everyone you meet. But I want to learn how to.”

It’s dizzying, really. The complete 180 Eddie has seemingly made— and is it wrong for you to hesitate to believe him? Is it wrong that you’re still unsure even though Eddie looks like he wants to practically crawl out of his skin? Because Eddie is so far from home, and it doesn’t even take years of knowing him to see that.

You shift your gaze to the table, sinking further into your seat as you tilt your head, and there’s an echo of how you felt last night that rings in your chest as you ask, “Where did you go, Eddie?”

Eddie is so pretty under candlelight. He’s defined and soft, and his hair looks like a golden mane when it catches the light. His eyes, always big and brown with honey-soaked pools of curiosity, they’re softer than they’ve ever been before. His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth and tortured with the jagged crowns of his teeth as he silently stresses.

“I went to the studio.” He finally admits.

And you can’t seem to think of a single reason why Eddie would ever be this nervous to tell you he went to the studio— that’s his job, is it not?

Eddie shifts in his seat to reach into his jacket pocket to pull something out. “I brought you here so I could—” “Excuse me, Mr. Munson.” A waiter interrupts.

Eddie pauses, both of you turning your attention to the pristine man in black. The waiter clasps their hands behind their back, leaning forward as they speak, “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a group up front claiming to be a part of your reservations. I didn’t see any more seats on the list, but they insisted I check with you.”

Eddie shoves whatever is in his hand back into his pocket as he looks over his shoulder, your gaze following his eyes as he curses. You can’t see much from your seat, so you’re riddled with confusion when Eddie grumbles something to himself as he turns back to the waiter, “Yeah, they’re my friends; send them over.”

The waiter nods and walks off as you send a look of confusion towards Eddie, “I thought there was a dinner tonight? Which, speaking of, why aren’t you there?” Eddie freezes at the question, “You know about the dinner?”

You nod, “Jeff and Gareth told me. Thanks for the invitation, by the way.” You grumble as Eddie stands up. Eddie curses, turning to you and holding an index finger, “To be fair, I wasn’t planning on going.” You raise an unconvinced eyebrow as Eddie turns around and cheers, stepping forward to hug who had expected to be Jeff or Gareth.

However, neither Jeff nor Gareth have light brown, wavy, shoulder-length hair.

It’s a woman, a pretty one with sunkissed freckles dotted all around her face. Behind her, and next to hug Eddie, is a man; soft, brown wisps of healthy hair long enough to kiss the tips of his ears. He catches your eyes over Eddie’s shoulder, and you find that he and Eddie share the same eye color.

Last to hug Eddie is another woman, kind-looking and just as pretty as the first, and with the curly strands that bounce along her shoulders, you might’ve guessed she and Eddie were related somehow.

The first girl peeks over Eddie’s shoulder and smiles, “Who’s this?” She squeaks, “Oh fuck, are we interrupting something? Steve— god, I told Steve we should’ve just waited to see you at the hotel.” The boy, Steve, you suppose, turns to the girl with an annoyed look as they start to bicker lightly. Eddie waves his hands to disperse the small moment, “As happy as I am to see you assholes, we actually were in the middle of something.” Eddie sarcastically smiles.

You roll your eyes and smile as you stand from the booth, “No, no, don’t worry about it.” You assure her as you step forward, placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder to make room for yourself as you extend a hand in greeting. You tell her your name, and she smiles, “I’m Robin!” She responds. She gestures to the man, “This is Steve,” Steve waves, “And this is Nancy.” Nancy waves and smiles.

“We’re old friends from high school.” Nancy clears up the confusion.

And then it suddenly makes sense. Eddie had mentioned something about his tight-knit group of friends from Hawkins. He didn’t go in-depth on who was who, but you now realize why Robin had sounded like such a familiar name.

You beam at them as the pieces come together, “Oh! Nice to meet you; Eddie’s mentioned you all before,” You respond, “It’s nice to put faces to the names finally.”

Steve awes at that and slaps a hand onto Eddie’s shoulder, “You’ve been talking about us? How sweet of you.” He jokingly teases, squeezing at the dip of Eddie’s shoulder and neck. Eddie bats him away with a ghost of a smile, and you smile, enjoying the look of familiar joy on Eddie’s face.

Eddie ushers you all to sit in the booth— and you don’t ignore the fact that he slides in right beside you. Robin and Nancy sit on the other side, and Steve squeezes in last despite Robin’s protests and grumbles about him having wide shoulders. Eddie sighs, hands fidgeting on the table as he speaks, “What are you guys doing here? I thought you were going to the dinner with the band.” He asks.

Steve scoffs as Nancy snickers, and Robin rolls her eyes, “Yeah, that was the plan,” Robin responds. “But these two,” She gestures between Nancy and Steve, “Didn’t want to dress for it. Jeff told us where you were, by the way.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the mention of Jeff and his traitorous behavior.

Steve glances around the restaurant, and you catch Nancy’s eyes, sharing a quick, welcoming smile with one another. “Yeah, so can we, like, get out of here?” Steve asks in a bored manner before reaching over to grasp Eddie’s forgotten glass of wine. Eddie flicks Steve’s hand, and Nancy speaks up from the corner of the booth, “Do either of you know a place with good drinks?”

Eddie looks beyond bothered by how his friends crashed your short-lived dinner, so you answer, “There’s a karaoke bar down the street; they have a good happy hour, too.” You shrug. Steve and Robin perk up at the mention of karaoke, and Nancy groans, “God, don’t get these two started on karaoke. They don’t stop.” She complains.

Steve shrugs and slides out of the booth, “Too bad, we’re going.” He tugs his friends out of the booth. With the small window of no attention on you or Eddie, Eddie turns to you, “I’m sorry.” He motions toward his friends. You smile and shake your head, “That’s okay.”

Eddie leans in, and your heart skips a beat. You’re shocked when Eddie’s cool fingers brush against yours beneath the table and slip something into your hand, “This is what I brought you here for.” He softly says.

You glance beneath the table to see the clear cassette tape that Eddie had when you opened your door. You glance back at him, confusion riddled on your features, “What’s this?” You ask. Eddie’s gaze flickers to your lips before locking back on your eyes, “My apology.”

His apology?

Your mind reels for a few moments until you remember what Eddie had said yesterday, “I said sorry. An actual apology, I did it, and you weren’t fucking there to hear it.”

Before you can respond, Steve clasps a hand over Eddie’s shoulder, grabbing both of your attention, “Let’s go, man; I’m gonna battle you in a sing-off.” Behind Steve, Nancy and Robin stand hand in hand, Robin impatiently waving for you and Eddie to get up.

Mind reeling with a mix of emotions; you barely have enough time to shove the tape in your bag before Eddie drags you out of the booth.

With the tape practically burning a hole through your side and your mind telling you to slow down, your heart flutters in your chest as you allow yourself to weave your fingers through Eddie’s.

And when you see the small smile that grazes across Eddie’s lips, you decide to let yourself have this moment, even if you’re still wary of Eddie’s true intentions.

And once again, for the second night in a row, you find yourself in Eddie’s trap.

————

part ten

————

a/n: HIIII, you made it to the end !!! look at them evolving :') we're almost to the end friends, hang in there w me i beg !! i hope u enjoyed, and as always, i love love love reading any and all feedback as well as ur silly thots <3 TY FOR READING I LOVE U VERY BIG MWAHHH <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn @mossiswriting

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catiuskaa · 2 months

Text

COACH OR PLAYER?

SUMMARY: there’s always a time when one just has to know, but is the coach able to risk it and play their own game?

WC: 1.43k (omg)

CW: caution! content hot! lol, just suggestive, a sneaky reference to the devil wears prada, some sports/gameplayer terminology.

REQUESTED! by annonie right here. i gotta say, good music taste, pookie. I had fun with this one, I really hope you do too! <3

[⛓️☆ 🎀 ☆⛓️]

Bet.

“Do I look that cold?”

You hesitated, smiling after he lend you his jacket.

“Maybe.” He shrugged playfully, scrunching his face in a funny way, which made his glasses fall a bit further down the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I’m just that hot.”

You rolled your eyes, biting your lip.

Sometimes you wished you could just forget about it.

“He said that?” Your roomate Jeongin scoffed. “Man figured a way to lower a standard that was already non-existent for his category.”

You blinked, deadpanning at him before sighting and merely continuing making a simple grilled cheese for dinner.

“Now’s when you ask, Innie, what category?”

The olive oil teased you, its sound almost threatening as you pulled your sleeves as far as they could reach, trying to cover your hands.

“What if I’m not interested?”

He scoffed with a smirk, already munching what had been meant as a dessert, his eyes never leaving the sliced pieces of fruit.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Andrea, everybody wants this.”

You laughed, sitting down on the sofa next to him, and he lowered the TV’s volume, going as far as to sit propperly —criss-cross is propper, and that’s on period, he’d say— and facing towards you, clearing his throat and leaving the plate on the coffee table.

The crisp feeling of toast was better than you imagined, considering you’d thought you weren’t even that hungry at first. You chewed gingerly, unbothered by what was starting to feel like a piercing stare to your forehead.

“Jeongin-a.” It was funny how hard he tried to play it as if he hadn’t been startled by your tone. You blinked again, merely meeting your eyes with his. “I’d rather you speak than drill holes on my head.”

He groaned, throwing his legs over the sofa’s armrest, passing his hands through his face. You ate quietly, waiting for him.

“It’s just that…” he sighed. “I never know when you’re going straight ahead for someone. I don’t think I know now either.”

You frowned, covering your mouth with the back of your hand, still eating. “The fuck you mean, pal?”

He stood up faster than you expected, which almost threatened your grilled cheese sandwich to end up facing the floor.

“I know you like him. Shit like that is your whole modus operandi. But ever since our bet, I just don’t know.”

It’s probably a famous last word. At the rate it’s said, it’s gotta be. It’s easygoing, slipping off one’s tongue quickly, as if ripping off a band-aid.

“Bet on it.”

“That just scrambles my eggs, dude.” You had winced a while back, playing half-annoyed, suddenly focused on the contents inside the can in your hand. “I don’t think I’m interested.”

He had chuckled, opening another can of beer.

“Why?” He said, smirking teasingly. “Even coach leaves the fucking bench if the rest of the players suck,” his face was serious, his pink-tinted cheeks obvious, considering his weak alcohol tolerance.

“That’s not even funny.”

He had dissmissed your denial, grunting a bit, approaching you further, and laying a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re normally blind to this type of things, but with this guy, you can’t even say if he’s just playing.”

Alas, your can had been empty. But now, a small idea had blossomed and filled a part of your mind.

“I bet that if I flirt back, he’ll back off. That’s my bet.” You had slammed the can against the table, your expression that of a winner.

Silly little thing.

No one can win if no one wants to stop playing.

[⛓️☆ 🎀 ☆⛓️]

“Hey,” you grinned, watching him smile at you as he took his big headphones off and left them hanging on his neck.

You closed the door of the studio behind you, taking a seat on the chair next to him.

“Pity. I had a better seat saved for you, doll.” Jisung teased, tapping on his thighs playfully.

You chuckled, biting your lip.

Every player knows that rules exist for a reason. The issue in the gameplay is the rules. They limit one’s extent to keep the game going. Rules are there to make sure the result is fair.

But what if any fairness can get out of this?

Your eyes didn’t leave his when you smirked.

“Sure thing, jagi.”

The chair threatened to move backwards with the added weight, but Han planted his shoes on the ground with more firmness, his arms traveling to your waist, making sure that even if the chair gave up, you wouldn’t end up on the floor.

Your back was facing him, and you knew you were using that to your advantage when you stoond up just enough to sit a little further, just a tiny bit, now able to lie your head on his shoulder comfortably.

It’s no surprise that this match’s winner could have been already decided, considering your current position in less than ten minutes together. A good player knows when not even the VAR can rule these points out if they wanted to.

Han knew he wouldn’t.

You don’t, however, so it could start to look like the gameplay may take a turn. He could get the upper hand, seeing as his arms cheekily traveled around your waist and he sighed, his breath hot against the skin of your neck, and your head could figure out you had lost, judging by how hard it was to fight off the shivers that ran through your spine because of him.

You were blushing, sitting on his lap. You weren’t sure you could remember what you were supposed to be doing in the studio anyways.

After all, rules are followed because everyone knows them. But what happens when none of the players can decide where to draw the line?

“What do we have here?” Your tone sounded cheeky, yet neither of you will comment on it as you point at the big screen slightly above you.

“A beat I was working on.” His voice too felt slightly lower, its sneaky undertone able to hit you like a truck if spotted, hunting you like a sweet you couldn’t help but crave.

Your hands traveled to his neck, and you fidgeted with the golden chain there, teasing as you purposefully graced your fingers against his skin, tickling, tantalizing.

“Can I listen to it?” You snickered while putting on his chain.

Sometimes, one of the players may not be really acquainted with the rules. And at the end, in this gameplay, at least, no winners can achive said golden medal when you’re not able to ignore how his fingers never once stopped playing with the light-coloured threads that decorated the end of your high-waisted shorts.

The drums and beats and bass all filled up the sound-proofed room once Jisung pressed play.

You giggled, returning the chain to its rightful owner, letting it dangle, following its patter from his nape, to his collarbone, and down to his chest.

He shivered, almost unnoticeable, and you smiled.

“It’s a fire beat.” I’m winning. “Have you planned what to add to it?” Turn it against me.

He smirked, nodding, his hands pressing you even more against him, as if that could make you able to read his mind, then make him able to take your breath away as he’d finally let the bomb inside him explode, take you from your thighs and sit you on the table before him, not bothering to move anything an inch as his fingers unbutton your blouse and how you would hastedly discard his sweatter off him.

But that won’t happen as of now, so he just grinned, taking your hands, always a little colder than his, and used the sleeves of his sweater to cover them, warming them up with the fabric. Which was as intended. Not merely holding hands as he kept at bay all of the thoughts that flooded him whenever your studio sessions came around.

Of course not.

“Oh, yeah.” He replied, a faint blush not noticeable thanks to the coloured lights. Its direct if you’re thinking the same as him, but that, he won’t know, so still, he replied cheekily.

“There’s still things to do.”

His eyes found yours, and he smirked.

“I don’t think I’ll be done soon.”

It’s ridiculous how he bit his lip, almost threatening you to follow along and bite him too.

“It’s just a little too good. Don’t you think, doll?” The way he paused after every sentece started to drive you wild, and you fidgeted with his rings again, both of your hands hidden in the holes of his sweater.

It’s also sweet how you didn’t know he was not wearing anything else underneath it.

At least, not yet.

Rules says you’ll have to wait a bit longer.

And Han Jisung is and has always been a thorough player.

[⛓️☆ 🎀 ☆⛓️]

~Kats, who thinks has been exposed to lots of euro matches to end up writing this. lol

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90ekz · 1 year

Text

across the map.

☾ summary: usually onyankapon likes to keep his face shaven and sleek, but once he notices how you can’t keep your eyes off his new facial feature, he has other plans.

☆ tags: black fem reader, chubby reader, facial hair kink (??? idk man), sub!ony for like 2 seconds, overstimulation, porn w small plot, teasing, creampie, p in v, liberal use of “ma” & “mama”, mention of pregnancy, not proofread, vaginal fingering, onyan & y/n are roommates in college, business major onyan <3

♡ a/n: sorry for being gone so long, i’ve literally been so busy 😭😭, but thank y’all for 500 followers !!! the support means the world to me.

it wasn’t even intentional.

onyankapon had gotten so busy with his classes overseas that he’d slipped up on his weekly shave. he typically didn’t grow facial hair very fast anyway, but all of a sudden his goatee was sprouting like weeds.

he couldn’t figure out why, until he’d locked eyes with the facial serum connie had gifted him for his birthday. dumbass.

in theory, onyankapon should’ve already shaved it. he told himself that he wouldn’t do it the night before his flight, but he really didn’t have time to keep up with that promise.

and he was lazy.

onyankapon tried to ignore it, but everytime he went to touch his face he was reminded of it, and it just made him cringe. he was finally going home to you tomorrow, and he wanted to look perfect for his baby.

when he’d left home three weeks ago, you were so sympathetic and understanding about the lack of time you were gonna have to talk but still a bit somber, knowing your conversations would be reduced to good morning & good night texts.

now, he stood over his hotel room sink, attempting to both not fall asleep and shave at the same time.

it wasn’t working.

“fuck it. not even finna do allat,” he just flicked the bathroom light off, knowing had a long flight in the morning and it was already nearing one in the morning. he just hoped you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable with his stubble.

the next morning, onyankapon felt his lips curl upward when he received a million texts of you being so giddy about him coming home.

sweet cheeks 🤞🏾: BAE

sweet cheeks 🤞🏾: OMG BABY UR COMING HOME 2DAY

sweet cheeks 🤞🏾: HAVE A GOOD FLIGHT BABY ILYSMMMM

the whole flight home, all onyankapon could think of was your plush lips against his and that round ass that he would inevitably be fondling soon. the woman next to him probably thought he was a psychopath from the way he was randomly giggling to himself.

walking off the plane and eventually into the baggage pick up area where he finally saw your face for the first time in almost a month, onyankapon was overwhelmed.

the way your face lit up when you saw him, your body in that pretty little skims dress, god.

he felt like he was in love again for the first time.

you threw yourself into his arms and he was just as excited to see you, but he couldn’t help but kneed the fat of your ass as you kissed him senseless.

“have some shame, we’re in public.”

“can’t help it. my sweet lil’ thing, i missed you…” you gasped as he gripped your ass once more, but not for the reason he thought you did. your eyes had finally zeroed in on his newly bearded face, and you couldn’t help the ache that suddenly appeared downward.

you never saw onyankapon’s facial hair, or rather, he never even gave you the opportunity to see it. as soon as you jokingly commented on how his stubble was tickling you, he was in the bathroom with the door locked while the clippers released a small whirring sound in the background.

you’d always been curious. you liked a lil goatee here and there, but it was never a major turn on or anything.

but on your nigga? yeah, you needed him bad.

he wet his lips as he peered down at you, even giving you a peek of his shiny diamond grill as he smiled at you. you trailed behind him slightly as he led you to your car, trying not to stumble from the heartbeat down below.

“shiiii, slut me out.”

“whatchu say, ma?”

“nun! cmon boy, you walk slow.”

onyankapon let his hands wander the whole drive home. on your thigh, rubbing against your nipples, even rubbing small circles onto your clit at one point.

you two barely got into the house before onyankapon was caging you against the wall and attacking your neck with his teeth. all you could hyperfocus on was the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin.

your hand snaked to rub the sweet spot on his neck, smiling to yourself as he turned to putty. he smiled into your neck, his own hands wandering under the seam of your dress. his eyebrows jumped upward at your wetness.

“fuck.. all this for me mama?” you nod weakly as he immediately pushes two fingers knuckle deep into you, already knowing that you’d been preparing yourself for when he got home.

any words this man was saying to you were barely making it into your ears. anytime onyankapon spoke, you were immediately drawn to his lips and chin, and just how mature he looked.

it was almost sophisticated.

“been gone for so long and you won’t even focus on me. makin’ me sad, baby.” onyankapon breathed out, still a bit in disbelief that you were finally in his arms again. his fingers worked an almost melodic rhythm inside of your cunt, while his palm kept your clit company.

“more—fuck, onyyy,” you couldn’t help but whine out louder as his stubble scratched against your neck once more. the scratch only added to the knot threatening to burst in your stomach.

“shit, get these off mama.” onyankapon tugged at your dress and the panties underneath, silently begging you to get rid of them.

“you nasty.”

“you want me to make you nut or nah?” you just smacked your lips and removed your dress. his eyebrow quirked when you didn’t immediately take off the panties and bra accompanying it, but he dropped to his knees nonetheless.

you shivered at his warm breath ghosting against your clothed pussy. he continued to lap and lick at you, leaving a heavy feeling in your gut.

yet you still wanted more.

you wanted more for the sole purpose of feeling his chin hair scratch and rub against your pussy, your neck, all over you, wherever he wanted.

“c-can you—fuck!” onyankapon just smiled at you, already knowing what you wanted him to do, all you needed to do was beg for it. he just continued his skillful movements, just wanting to tease you for a little longer.

“what can i do for you, my love?”

onyankapon struggled to conceal his laugh, because he expected that you wouldn’t beg to him, not without a lot of coaxing that is.

what he didn’t expect was for you to slip your panties down while he wasn’t looking and stuff his face nose-deep in your cunt without warning. his eyes grew wide as you started shamelessly fucking his face, while he struggled to not choke on his own moans.

between your essence dripping down his chin, the grip on the back of his neck and your whines, onyankapon’s cock found itself getting much stiffer much quicker than he anticipated.

every bump of your clit against his nose against his nose sent a zap to his dick. he just sat and took it, his grip on your thighs tightening so much that he started to wonder if he was gonna break skin.

sex with ony’ wasn’t usually this rough, but three weeks away from each other had your bodies screaming the second you came together again. he really didn’t know how you’d react to seeing him again, but he hadn’t considered that you’d be this dominant.

neither did he think about how much he’d like it.

you pulled him away suddenly, presumably so he could catch his breath. onyankapon could swear that you were talking to him, but his mind was completely gone.

“‘m sorry, mama. ‘shouldn’t have done it, just lemme please you.”

before you could respond, his tongue was roughly digging you out, his grip on your waist being the only thing keeping you on earth. he didn’t stop licking until you’d cum on his tongue twice and were begging him to stop.

“ooh, ony—too much..”

he barely cared, making that known as he continued to press kitten licks to your sensitive hole.

“hey—boy are you even listening to me?” onyankapon gave you a stank look as you pushed him away with your foot. you couldn’t help but laugh at how badly this nigga wanted you.

“i wasn’t done.” suddenly you were being flipped over and onyankapon’s thick cock was laying against the skin of your stomach. he looked just about ready to rip you apart.

he gave your clit a few taps before pushing home, the action making your eyes roll back. he didn’t hesitate to slam himself into you roughly back to back, the meat of your ass slamming against his balls.

onyankapon began to kiss on your neck, and smirked into the crook of it when he felt your cunt spasm around him.

“missed you so much ony—needed t-this..”

“fuck, missed you so much more.. such a good girl…” his thrusts only sped up as you whined his name louder and louder with each kiss his cock placed against your cervix. his grip on your waist was tight enough to leave bruises, as he latched onto you like he was afraid you’d slip away from him.

without any warning, onyankapon strokes his fingers against your clit, and your losing your mind while cumming on his cock. he just coos at you, wondering what he did to deserve you. the overstim quickly sets in though, and you’re not-so quietly begging him to slow down.

“shhh, i know you can give me one more ma, i know you can…”

‘one more’ turned into two, three, and eventually four drawn out orgasms, all sprayed onto onyankapon’s lower abdomen. fuckin’ liar. “mmhm, want me to nut in you mama? want this mini-me in you, yeah?” all you could do is nod weakly as he pumped you full, his thrusts finally slowing. your eyes cracked open to see him smirking down at you while he languidly stroked your cheek to make sure you were still with him.

“you so cute. you still with me?”

“mmm.”

onyankapon just smirked as he got some things to wipe you up with. after a few minutes, you finally started to sit up and recover, only to get an immediate attitude with him.

“i can’t believe i let you nut in me,” you mumbled as he turned on the newest episode of General Hospital. he just laughed at you, not being worried considering you’re on birth control.

“you’re so into the beard, you woulda begged me to anyway.” you just scoffed before walking to the bathroom to pee, knowing that he was right but not wanting to admit it.

“i was not.”

#anime #aot headcanons #aot smut #aot spoilers #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon snk #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon smut #black!fem!reader #aot x chubby reader #aot x black reader #aot imagines #i missed writing but i did need that break tbh lol #will syno admit that they’re mentally ill or will they keep writing smut ? find out next week on dragon ball z !#syno’s picks 💌

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

for the multiverse Monday: reader and rockstar! Sirius have been dating for some time and even though it's not something public he always leaves something out, like some part of the reader accidentally appearing in a photo or interviews with double meanings that imply that he have something with someone <3

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Sirius's livestream is still going; in fact, you've been watching for the past forty minutes. He'd offered to plant you front and center before the camera and introduce you to his fans, but in a toothpaste-stained sweatshirt and granny panties, you're not eager to show yourself off to the world. Instead you're nestled snugly in bed, blankets tucked under your chin as you burn Sirius's image into your mind.

His hair's bundled up atop his head in a sloppy bun of your own creation, held together with a bright pink scrunchie. He's known for his less-than-bland stage outfits, but you've seen a handful of comments about the hair tie already, wondering if it's really his.

"Yeah, anyways, doesn't matter what the waitress said." He drawls, finished recounting a story about a fan he'd met over breakfast, "Can't remember, really, but the guy was fantastic, and yes I did pay his bill."

He dodges a praise-filled comment, "No, no, 'm not an angel, don't exaggerate. Just bought a guy breakfast. More of a grandma, really."

Sirius is an angel, to you. Maybe a fallen one, what with his dark aesthetic and fiery eyes, but miraculous and heavenly either way. He clears his throat, somewhat overwhelmed by the attention he typically loves so much. He shifts in his seat, and the commenters catch his mistake before you do.

onceyougoblack: ARE THOSE CONDOMS???????

siriblxck: not the condoms in the back 💀

blacksangel: sorry guys i guess i forgot to tell him to put them away after last night 🤭

There are, in fact, condoms behind Sirius. He'd shifted on the couch cushions just enough to expose a large box of condoms behind him on the dining table, the most convenient place to store them so that he could pick one up on his way into the house. He notices the comments and lets out a sharp bark of laughter, reaching back to push them out of frame.

"Sorry, sorry," He snickers, "Jesus, m'gonna get booted off the platform for that. Listen, better safe than sorry, okay? You can make fun of me all you want but I don't have an STD and neither does- well," Your heart stutters in your chest as you see his lips begin to form your name, then stop, "Uh, anyone else. Christ, can't really come back from that one. I'm gonna-" He stammers, staring at the endless scroll of comments, "Uh, I'm gonna end the live. Wrap it before you tap it, mates, g'bye."

It's barely two seconds after your screen goes dark and informs you that Sirius has ended the live video before you hear his footsteps racing towards your door, then he bursts through, flooding the room with light.

"Did you see that?" He pants, eyes wide and grin enormous as you nod.

"Yes, I did, you're going to be hearing about that in every interview for the rest of your life, Sirius."

"Can't wait to be grilled by talk show hosts," He snorts, and you're afraid his smirk may never fade, especially not when he slides beneath the covers and his hands instantly find the curve of your ass, "Hope they saw the 'extra large' label."

663 notes · View notes

reina-petrova · 8 months

Text

You Have My Word ・❥・ Elejah

“Elena, you don’t have to just be a doppelgänger… you have to be a virgin. So, theoretically, if you lost it to someone, the ritual wouldn’t work.” “Are you serious?” “Yes, but there’s a catch…” “Of course there is. What is it, Bonnie?” “It has to be with an Original.” ↳AU where Elena discovers that Klaus’s hybrid ritual requires a virgin doppelgänger sacrifice and Elena never lost the V-card. Now her only hope is a certain Original. Set around season 3 during ripper!stefan and pining!Damon, post Elijah!haircut and post Elena's 18th birthday.

↳Warnings: Smut, virgin kink, dirty talk, light dom/sub undertones if you squint.

↳6.7k words

↳Cross-posted to AO3 here

↳Song rec: Terrible Thing by AG (A/N: this is just a silly AU fic that popped into my head, it’s only a vehicle for smut so be forewarned the canon details/timeline may be off 🤪)

・❥・

[text: 2:48pm] I found something. Call me l8tr. - Bonnie

Elena let out a shaky breath at the text in front of her. She finished putting the last of her books into her locker and slung her bag over her shoulder. She could hardly look away from the text as she shut the metal door closed, typing a quick response to Bonnie in the meantime.

[text: 2:49pm] I will. Thx B. - Elena

It almost seemed too good to be true, and as Elena returned to her car, she allowed herself a brief moment to envision a happy ending where Bonnie's new plan would actually work and they'd kill Klaus. Stefan would return to her. The Originals would be gone. Her town would be safe. She'd live.

Still, after so many run-ins with the supernatural, she'd learned to keep a healthy dose of reality mixed in with her positivity. Every plan was sure to work until it wasn't, and unfortunately, the last few indeed hadn't. It wasn't her life she was so worried about saving, it was everybody else's. With Klaus gone, they would be safe. But while Bonnie searched for any answers she could find, putting in all this time and effort, Elena had to at least try.

The moment she arrived home, she called Bonnie.

"Hey Elena,"

"Hi Bonnie, you said you found something? What's going on?" Elena sat down onto her bed with a small sigh.

"Yes and no. It's more of a loophole than anything else." Bonnie seemed a bit unsure, which gave rise to uncertainty in Elena. She prepared herself. Nothing was out of the question anymore.

"Okay, I'm ready."

"Like I said before, most of my grimoires don't go back far enough for the hybrid ritual, it's way too old. But I did find something in my oldest one, a description of it that included a word I've never seen before - virgino, in Latin."

Elena paused at that. She couldn't be hearing this correctly.

"As in...?"

"Yep. Virgin." Okay, so she had heard correctly.

"So what does that mean?"

“Elena, you don’t have to just be a doppelgänger… you have to be a virgin. So, theoretically, if you lost it, the ritual wouldn’t work.”

Elena's brows furrowed in confusion. She'd never heard that part of the ritual before. She wondered how accurate this description of the ritual could possibly be.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, but there’s a catch…” She heard Bonnie's voice grow more dim, and she knew it was nothing good.

“Of course there is. What is it, Bonnie?”

“Well... in order to ensure total loss of purity... it has to be with an Original.”

・❥・

“Thank you for meeting with me, Elijah.”

Elena’s fingers fidgeted around the coffee mug, her nails tracing over the width of it with anxiety. Elijah inclined his head politely, sitting opposite her at the Mystic Grill. It was far from a private place to speak, but Elena chose it for that very reason. Though the conversation was awkward at best, she didn’t know how she’d react if the two of them were alone. She didn’t even know how he’d react.

Despite all his wisdom, she knew he’d never guess why she’d asked to meet here.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Elena?”

He cut a handsome figure, wearing a perfectly tailored black suit that accentuated his shoulders with a matching black collared shirt underneath. The shirt opened at his throat and exposed the smallest peek of his clavicle. His hair was shorter now, brushed back and away from his face. A gold ring encircled one of his fingers. Noticing these details certainly wasn’t helping her nervousness. She swallowed the dryness in her throat at sound of the word pleasure.

Their “relationship” was built on shifting sands and she knew that, a tentative trust that both she and he tested the boundaries of. This would certainly cross the next three boundaries.

“Well, Bonnie was reading more into the hybrid ritual, trying to find a loophole. Trying to find our opportunity to kill Klaus.”

Elijah’s eyes searched hers but he said nothing in response, patiently waiting for her to continue. The words seem to spill out of her mouth as slowly as possible, yet her heart rammed in her rib cage. She was grateful he couldn't read her mind but doubtless he heard that at least.

What if he says no? How embarrassing would that be? And if it happened, how would she even explain to Stefan and Damon why suddenly the ritual wouldn’t work? Why it had to be Elijah?

“Yes.”

His smooth voice broke her from her reverie. She cleared her throat and tried again, taking another sip of her coffee. Matt had courteously slipped an extra something in her coffee when she’d asked, figuring even a drop of liquid courage would do her some good. It burned like a low ember in her stomach. Elijah’s tea stood in front of him, untouched.

“She found one other way that the ritual could be dismantled, apart from all the other options.” The other options being actually dying, becoming a vampire, etc. She’d gladly give her life if it meant her friends and town were safe, but killing Klaus would ensure safety forever. She had to at least try.

“Apparently, it’s not just the sacrifice of the doppelgänger… it’s the sacrifice of a virginal doppelgänger. So if the doppelgänger is no longer... you know, it won't work.”

Elijah’s brow furrowed, and she held some small victory in the fact that she was able to catch him so completely off guard. It made her feel less ridiculous in suggesting this, but also showed that not even the Originals knew all.

“But how can this be? I’ve never heard of such a requirement.”

“I guess it’s just one of the old failsafes from that era, tied in with the idea of innocence and purity in the face of…” She trailed off hesitantly.

“Evil.” He finished for her with a slow smile. She allowed herself a small smile in return.

When silence settled upon the conversation once more, Elijah took up the mantle, shifting to lean closer to her across the table. “And I assume you are a-“

“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper but she knew he heard it loud and clear.

Elijah raised his brows in some surprise, a smirk crossing his lips for the briefest of flashes. His hands quickly moved the teacup to the side of the table, the drink long forgotten. His fingers tapped slowly at the wooden table in thought, and Elena took a small breath into her lungs and held it.

“Forgive me, but with both Salvatore’s at your heels, and if I recall their history with Katerina-“ Elijah’s palm turned upwards, his eyes casting downwards for a moment.

“I am not Katherine.”

Then his gaze flickered up to hers, amusement clear in his warm brown eyes. She thought she saw a small look of admiration somewhere in those eyes.

“No. You are certainly not, Elena.”

Elena took another sip of the coffee, begging for the alcohol to provide some inspiration. As it was, her words were failing her and they hadn’t even gotten to the brunt of it. Part of her hoped he’d ascertain it himself without her even needing to say it. Though she wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to hear he’d say it either. Elijah was a noble man, and he ensured any and all terms of a deal were clear. He was the key to their plan to kill Klaus, and innuendos would never do, not when there was so much on the line. Thankfully, he wasn’t one for vulgarity either.

“So, if I’m understanding correctly, there’s only one thing left for you to do.” The amusement still never left Elijah’s eyes and it made her squirm in her chair. His gaze was so intent and heavy on her, his presence commanding. He was a man unlike she’d ever known. “But I’m assuming there’s a reason you called me here.”

"Yes." Here goes nothing. "The only way to ensure the total-“ she cleared her throat again. “-loss of purity is for it to be with an Original.”

Realization dawned on his features in the blink of an eye. Then, ever so slowly, she watched his face darken with something else. Her eyes dropped back to her fingers, nails digging into her nail beds. She wanted to disappear, to melt right into her chair.

“And further ensure the division of the family.” Elijah murmured. “If it can only be an Original, then only Niklaus’s own family can betray him.”

A small knot of fear tied itself in Elena’s stomach. If he refused, if he changed his mind about killing Klaus, all hope was lost. She tried her best to gauge his reaction, but he was unreadable at best, a stone statue at worst. Elijah never let his hand slip, and she could no more understand him than she could an ancient language.

Suddenly, her nerves got the better of her. The caffeine outweighed the alcohol, and she felt herself standing to her feet, grabbing her bag from the back of the chair.

“I’m sorry, this was a ridiculous idea. We’ll find another way-“ She took no more than a step away from the table, prepared to flee the building when she felt his hand take hers gently.

“Elena.”

He pulled on her hand slightly, just enough that she stepped back towards him and towards the table. Even in the smallest, most delicate of gestures, she felt his strength thrumming in his fingertips. She turned to face him, and he’d stood to his full height, his broad frame dwarfing hers.

It was then that she allowed herself the opportunity to even process what she was asking. She’d been so caught up in trying to kill Klaus, prevent any more innocent lives lost, that she hadn’t thought about what this would. mean. Her and Elijah. Together.

A flash of their bodies intertwining appeared in her mind, the heat of his hand on hers suddenly feeling like a searing flame on her skin. The knot of fear began to dissolve, and something else pooled in her lower stomach.

The same feeling she saw in his eyes just then.

Four little words, and despite herself, she felt her heart flutter.

“You have my word.”

・❥・

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Bonnie repeated for the fifth time that evening. Elena shot her a half annoyed glance, to which Bonnie grinned in response.

“I know.” Elena repeated for the sixth. All too well. Though she had a feeling she had no real idea.

Elena sat down into the bed with a quiet sigh. Bonnie had brought the grimoire where she found the loophole so Elena could see it for herself. Though her Latin was nonexistent, there was no denying that word. Virgin. She'd even brought a few extras she didn't have time to go through earlier in case they had any other information to offer. So far, nothing. The books shifted slightly towards Elena in their careful piles as her weight settled into the covers.

“What about Stefan? I thought you guys were waiting.”

The reminder of Stefan struck a chord in her heart, but one that had been struck too many times lately. She believed in her and Stefan’s love, but with him firmly in Klaus’s grasp, she could hardly recognize him. As it was, she had little time to wait.

“Stefan’s lost right now, Bonnie. And if this could get him away from Klaus and save his life, I’m going to try.”

“And Damon?” Bonnie offered quietly, with some note of derision in her voice. Elena knew how she felt about him, but there was also no denying Damon's obvious feelings for her, and how protective he'd become. It was almost too much to think about. Instead, she stood up and began aimlessly tidying the room, putting things away in random drawers. What does one do to prepare for this situation?

“He doesn’t know- he can’t know. He’ll lose it. He’ll say it’s a bad plan.” Along with a few choice words for Elijah and maybe a dagger dipped in white oak ash. Then they’d have no plan.

“Well I wouldn’t say it’s a good plan.” Bonnie responded sardonically.

Elena’s mouth dropped in fake disbelief as she put her diary away.

“This was your idea!”

“You’re the one going through with it! And I mean, Elijah? He’s kind of scary.”

“As opposed to who?” Elena responded with a mirthless laugh. “And he’s not that scary. He’s just… aristocratic."

“No? Oh.” Bonnie teased coyly. “I forgot how well you’re acquainted…" She cocked a brow at Elena's pattering around the room "Are you actually cleaning right now?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” She admitted. “How does one seduce an Original?”

Bonnie started flipped some of the grimoires closed, and Elena looked up nervously at the clock. He would arrive in 30 minutes. Anticipation buzzed through her veins at the thought. Bonnie slid off the bed once the books allowed a path and stood in front of Elena, taking her hands in hers as a show of strength.

“I'm sorry, Elena, this is a big deal. Your first time but it comes with the caveat of saving your life and everybody else's. Not to mention it's happening with a thousand year old vampire. Just be your normal, charming self. This is a common interest of killing Klaus and nothing more.”

“Right,” Elena smiled. Nothing more. Right?

“But-“ Bonnie reached behind her and pulled one of the drawers she’d just shut open and retrieved her hair brush. With a shrug, she handed it to Elena. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Elena smirked and took the hairbrush from her hands, combing it through her locks gently.

・❥・

After Bonnie left, Elena paced for another ten minutes incessantly. She'd brushed her hair, done minimal makeup, but left herself in her usual outfit of jeans and a tank top. Anything else felt like it was trying too hard.

She sat down onto edge of the bed and glanced at her phone. A few messages from Damon and Caroline. Nothing from Stefan. She dropped the phone onto the bed and waited. With each passing minute, she felt her heart beginning to race faster and faster.

This is insane. How is this my life?

The fact that it was happening in her bedroom was even stranger. Elijah had been inside of her house before but this was something else entirely. He'd been perfectly gentlemanly in allowing her to choose the location, but there weren't many options. Elijah had no permanent domicile as of yet, and a hotel room felt too seedy, even the nicest one in town; though he'd even assured her he'd take care of the cost.

Only after she ensured Ric and Jeremy wouldn't be home did she suggest her place, a small level of familiarity in this situation. She wasn't afraid per se, but the way her body reacted to his was jarring. There was something deeply forbidden about it, and she couldn't help but be drawn to it. Being home would help ground her.

His knock came, short and sweet. Elena's heart nearly jumped out of her chest as she stood up and walked down the stairs to let him in. Her fingers curling around the knob, she took one more quiet breath. No going back now.

She opened the door to Elijah standing on her porch, clad in his usual tailored suit. The black fabric looked heavy and luxurious with the way it laid on his shoulders, accentuating his broad frame. The dark shirt he was wearing that afternoon was replaced with a crisp white one, and the tie he wore was black to match the jacket. There was stubble on his jaw, she noticed with a note of appreciation. It gave him a slightly more disheveled look than usual. Her nervousness began to melt away at the sight of his handsome face and his calm demeanour.

He was wearing the same gold ring as before, and she only noticed when she spotted the crimson red rose in his fingers. With a smile, he extended it to her. "Elena."

"Elijah." Elena reached out and took the rose from his hands, giving a slight smirk. "A flower. Very symbolic of you."

Elijah let out a quiet laugh. "I assure you, I meant no such innuendo. It didn't seem right to come without a gift."

"Well, it's beautiful. Please come in."

He stepped in as invited and she shut the door behind him. Now that they were well and truly alone, her heart picked up the pace once more, but she busied her fingers with the stem of the rose so as not to betray it. The man was a thousand years old and undoubtedly had known countless women. Her experience to his could not pale more in comparison. "I'm sorry, this is a bit... overwhelming."

"Undoubtedly."

Elijah stepped towards her slowly, closing the distance between them more than they ever had before. Elena stared upwards at him, her eyes barely at the level of his lips. His gaze was compelling but warm as it fell upon her, and she felt a breath hitch in her lungs at the nearness of him. "I want to make this experience comfortable for you, Elena. Your terms."

Elena nodded slowly, swallowing back her saliva. "Should we go upstairs?"

Elijah inclined his head with a small smile to which Elena smiled back. As intimidating as he could be, he was trying to put her at ease, and she appreciated it. She led the way up the stairs and to her bedroom, Elijah trailing behind. Once upstairs, she placed the rose delicately on the top of the dresser and then turned to face him.

Elijah looked incredibly out of place in her bedroom. Finely dressed and with an air of sophistication only a thousand years on earth could garner, he was like an ancient relic pulled straight from the history books. He looked better suited to a battlefield than a modern-day bedroom. But if he was ill at ease, he certainly never showed it.

His eyes met hers again and Elena's stomach flip-flopped. He had barely even touched her yet, and she was already reacting so viscerally to the vampire in front of her. Again, snapshots of their bodies entwining flashed in her mind like a promise of what was to come. Amusement crossed his chiseled features and he raised a hand to gently place his thumb and forefinger on her chin. "I can hear your heart beating, Elena."

Beating was an understatement. It felt like it was about to pop out of her chest. His touch on her face certainly wasn't helping that matter.

"Are you nervous?"

She thought before answering, their eyes searching each other, trying to gauge the other's feelings. But despite what she'd initially thought... she wasn't. Excitement thrummed within her, her arousal beginning to simmer at the seductive way he seemed to be looking down at her. He knew exactly what kind of power he held, and he enjoyed it. It was unnerving, but it was thrilling.

"No."

"Good. I want you to enjoy yourself, Elena. To let go and give in." To me, his eyes seemed to say. Give in to me completely. She managed a nod but found that words had escaped her completely. Was he moving in closer?

His fingers never dropped from her chin and she had nowhere to look but directly at him. Warmth bloomed from inside her stomach, her body signalling just how much she wanted to give in.

Using his other hand, he lifted a single finger to trace over the curvature of her neck, beginning from her collarbone all the way up to where her jaw began. His finger pressed just so behind her jawbone where her pulse was strongest, and she felt her blood sing in response to him.

"I meant what I said. Your terms. You're in complete control."

"I know..." Closer still. Their lips were a hairsbreadth apart.

"Yes?" She could feel the smile in his lips.

"Yes."

His lips met with hers and she felt herself crumble. His kiss was as captivating as she could've imagined, without a trace of insistence. He was telling the truth; the pace was in her hands. At first, shyness won out. Elena returned the kiss slowly at first, but as her lips deepened, so did his.

His hand had fallen from her face and instead, he pressed his palm to to her mid-back. It dipped no lower. Ever the gentleman, she thought, unable to supress the smile between their kiss.

He seemed to sense her amusement because his hand fell lower not a moment later, placing itself into the small of her back. He pressed her body closer to his, her chest landing flush with his as though he were challenging her.

Something sparked within Elena as the warmth of Elijah's hand spread through her hips. A need to know, a need to discover. She found the courage to touch him back, raising her hands to slip over his shoulders, fingers delicately tracing over the back of his neck. The fabric of his suit was soft to the touch, his skin softer still.

She'd done some things with Matt and Stefan before, but with Elijah, it felt as though she knew nothing at all. In this, she wanted him to take the lead. It seemed he intended to to some degree as both of his hands came down to her waist, the large expanse of his hands burning through her shirt. Desire began to take over, and their kisses grew deeper still. She ran her fingernails along the nape of his neck, coming down to scratch over his shoulders.

His hands pressed into her hips again before he broke the kiss. Elena felt how flushed she was, cheeks pink and lips swollen from his amorousness. She saw a muscle work in his jaw and he regarded her with half-lidded eyes. He raised a graceful hand and indicated towards the bed with a half-smirk.

"Please."

Elena pulled herself away from Elijah and obeyed, sitting on the side of the bed before lying down. Not once did she look away from him as he shrugged his jacket off, then loosened the knot of his tie. Desire pooled in the deepest parts of her at the sign of him so untidy. He looked like every woman's dream as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his white shirt and rolled them up slowly, exposing tanned forearms corded with lean muscle.

He returned to her, eyes appreciatively slipping from her neck downwards to her chest and her hips. "Good girl."

Slowly, he leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss again, his arms on either side of her head. The night had fallen in earnest now, the single lamp she left on providing a faint warm glow in the room. Elijah’s body swallowed her, the broadness of his shoulders and the dimness of the room entombed her in what felt like an eternity of him.

Elena reached up and twirled her fingers around his tie, giving an experimental tug to pull him down closer to her. He chuckled against her mouth and she did it again, pleased with the way his weight settling on her felt.

"Not that good." She whispered against his mouth.

"No? Show me."

Passion reignited, his mouth was suddenly everywhere. On hers, trailing kisses along her jaw, her collarbone, between the valley of her breasts. When his mouth stopped where her shirt ended, his fingers tugged upwards at the bottom of it, and she broke the kiss to pull it over her head.

With practiced ease, he unbuttoned her jeans and began to tug them down. She sat up slightly to help pull them off, then fell back in only her bra and underwear. Just before he could continue, she reached for one of his hands and tentatively placed it between her legs. Elijah raised his brows at her but acquiesced.

One arm outstretched between her thighs, the other bent as he hovered over her, he gazed down at her with darkened eyes. "I think you'll be good for me."

Elena's breathing pitched into a soft moan as she felt Elijah's fingers press against her underwear. Moving softly but with intent, his index and middle finger rubbed upwards, careful to barely brush against her covered clit, just where she needed him most. Her hips shifted at the pleasure, lips parting as another moan escaped her lips. His fingers were trained and precise.

"Won't you?" He asked, and she could hardly piece together a sentence. His voice was deep enough it reverberated in her chest. She felt herself growing wetter and she knew he could feel it too.

"Yes, Elijah."

"Mm."

She reached for his tie again to pull him down into another kiss. In the meantime, his fingers brushed the edge of her underwear aside and as his fingers slipped against her pussy, she gasped into his mouth. Finally, after a few moments, his fingers slowly came to her clit, and she felt every nerve sizzle in her body at the feeling.

He pressed another kiss to her lips as his fingers slowly slipped inside of her, and she suppressed another moan into his mouth. They moved slowly, collecting her wetness and teasing her. Her hips bucked lightly, chasing the feeling.

"So innocent... What do you want, Elena?" His fingers paused over her clit and she let out a soft whine at the cessation.

"I want you to touch me, Elijah. Please."

His touch felt like electricity as his fingers returned to run against her clit, and her body tensed as the pleasure swam through her. She already felt spent and yet he was still fully clothed.

Her hands reached for his shirt, but his hands captured hers before she could even the score. "Not yet. Not until I think you've had enough."

Her head and shoulders fell back onto the bed as his fingers picked up their pace. He alternated between slipping inside of her and pressing his thumb against her clit, until the energy building inside of her threatened to spill over. Her hands found his shoulders and her fingernails dug into his shirt at the pleasure, brow creasing as it threatened to overtake her.

Finally, with one last roll of his fingers, she felt the wave crash into her, sending ripples of sparks down to her very fingers and toes. If he were a mortal man, the grip she had on his body would've left marks. Elijah's mouth swallowed the last of the moans escaping from Elena's lips as his fingers rode out her orgasm, his thumb occasionally brushing against her sensitive clit, causing her to jump.

"I like the sight of you like this, sweet Elena. Undone, writhing. Your pleasure in my hands."

"And yours in mine." She panted.

Elena pushed up on Elijah's shoulders and he allowed it, the positions reversing until she straddled his hips. His hands came up to her waist, gripping it as she slowly rolled them over his. His desire was evident in the bulge of his pants, and it gave her immense satisfaction to know she had the same effect that he did on her.

Her fingers made quick work of his belt, unbuttoning while pressing her hand against the outline of him. He released a quiet groan at the feeling of her touch, and she wanted to hear more. His fingers came away from her hips to divest himself of his tie properly, slipping the satin from around his neck.

She slid from off his hips and stood at the foot of the bed, leaning over to tug him towards her by the loop of his trousers. He stood, his shirt half unbuttoned and creased, and his belt hanging around his hips. Elena felt herself grow wetter as she sank to her knees in front of him, and he watched with dark eyes as she began to pull his trousers and underwear down, just low enough to release his cock.

He was long and thick in her hand, and his head fell back as she leaned forward and licked a trail from shaft to tip. Slowly, she took him into her mouth, licking and sucking his heavy length until she could take him no more.

A deep growl emanated from Elijah’s chest, his hand coming up to rest against the back of her head. He let her set the pace, but his fingers knotted themselves in her hair as she swirled her tongue around his tip, tasting every last inch of him.

“You wicked little thing.” He sighed, his jaw clenching and his muscle tensing. She could see he desperately wanted to move his hips, but stayed in full control as she pressed him deeper into her mouth.

She placed her hands on his thighs, gripping the fabric of his trousers to give herself more balance, and she felt his fingers brush the hair away from her face and behind her ear before lightly collecting it into his grip. The small gesture made her heart skip as she set a quick rhythm.

He groaned again in pleasure, allowing himself a few more moments before delicately tugging on her hair to bring her back up to standing position. In a flash, the moment she stood, he had her trapped against the wall, his chest pressing into her shoulder blades. Her fingers bent and scratched against the wall, seeking purchase as her lungs seemed to give out. His scent enveloped her. His mouth was hot against her ear.

“So innocent and yet so wicked. So ready to be defiled. Will you give into me, Elena?” Give in, her mind whispered.

She found herself pushing back against the wall to be closer to him, the outline of his body providing delicious heat against hers. She felt his strength emanating from every muscle, both hands pressed on either side of her. Using one hand, he tilted her jaw until her neck was exposed to him. For a moment, she thought he would drink from her, but instead, he placed gentle half-kiss-half-bites along the slope of her neck. His hand then dipped to her back where he quickly unhooked her bra and slipped it off her shoulders. Her underwear was tugged down until it fell. Goosebumps rose all over her skin at the thought of being fully naked in front of Elijah Mikaelson.

“I want to give in, Elijah. Give me all of you.”

Her back was pressed into the mattress before she realized, her body softly settling on the bed. Elijah undid the last of the buttons on his shirt and pulled off his trousers.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, his hand coming up to cup her breast, thumb tracing over her pebbled nipple. Elena sighed at the feeling.

Elijah’s body was just as beautiful, she thought. The expanse of his chest was strong, his abdomen and arms both lean with taut muscle. A deep V-line followed into his hips, his cock erect.

Just as their lips moved to reconnect, Elena’s eyes met his again. Suddenly, this became more than just breaking a ritual. Both were entrenched in their desire, desperate to for release in the other’s body. Nervousness bubbled up inside of her again as she realized it was time. Everything else she had done before, but not this. She knew generally what to expect of sex, but certainly not when it came to a thousand year old vampire being her first.

“I’ll be gentle.”

Elena nodded at his kind words, fingers reaching up to his shoulders again. He balanced on one arm as the other reached out to touch her slick heat, and instantly, she felt the unreleased desire come flooding back. Satisfied, Elijah slowly guided himself between her legs.

Her chest arched upwards at the feeling. Heat spread from her hips as her pussy stretched to accommodate his length. True to his word, he moved slowly as he rolled his hips towards her, sinking deeper into her with every breath. She could feel him gauging her reaction and moving only so long as she allowed it.

Elena felt as though she might burst from the feeling, her breathing devolving into moans as he settled himself to the hilt inside of her. One of her legs was bent, the other laid straight, and one of his hands gripped her thigh as he used the other to balance himself over her, watching her face.

Once the burn of the stretch passed, pleasure began to trickle in. He felt immense inside of her, overwhelming in every aspect of his body as he stilled his hips against hers.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes- yes.” Her eyes fluttered closed.

“Does it feel good, Elena?”

He slowly rolled his hips back and she let out an involuntarily moan at the feeling of him moving inside of her. When he rolled his hips forward again, pleasure erupted from within her, and her nails dug into the skin of his shoulders.

“Yes, yes!“

Elijah pressed a kiss to her lips, and obeyed. He set a slow but sensual rhythm to his hips as he moved in and out of her with deliberate care. Any discomfort long forgotten, Elena felt her own hips moving in tandem, hissing in delight at the friction their hips created.

He chuckled at her reaction. “So good for me.”

The praise was like an extra douse of kerosene to the flame.

“Please, Elijah- more.”

“More what? Hm?”

All the while, he never stopped moving, his hips picking up a faster pace. In that moment, the hand resting on her thigh slipped between their two entwined bodies. His fingers immediately located her clit, and the combination of him pumping in and out of her, and his thumb pad rolling against her clit, her moan nearly turned into a scream. She could hardly think past her own name.

“Use your words, Elena. Tell me what you want.”

But she couldn’t. Her body shook with pleasure, her nails digging crescent shaped impressions into his skin.

“I’m so close, please…”

His fingers and hips slowed down ever so slightly, and she whined at the feeling of her release slowly ebbing away.

“Do you want more?” He asked again.

“Yes.” Her voice was thick with desperation. All she could think about was the way his hips moved in between her thighs. The length of him hit all of the most inner parts, sending shockwaves of pleasure up her spine. She wanted more of anything he would give her.

He slowly pulled out of her, releasing his grip on her and flipped their positions once more. He kneeled behind her on the bed while she lay flat on her stomach, then he slowly moved until his body hovered over hers.

She pressed her thighs together, trying to gain back some friction, frustrated at the loss of him. She felt him press a kiss to her shoulder blade and in the same moment, he lifted her hips and slowly slid back into her.

She gasped at the feeling, her hips rising to meet his, and he settled back onto his knees, gripping her hips as he set a quicker pace. She felt herself dripping between her thighs, moans slipping past her lips as Elijah thrusted in and out.

She was desperate for release, and as his hips stuttered a bit, she knew he was too. He reached forward for her, pulling her back towards him until her back was pressed to his chest once more. One arm encircled her waist while the other hand reached for her clit. She nearly folded at the feeling, but his arm kept her to him, and suddenly she was right at the precipice of her release once more.

“Will you be good for me, Elena?”

She managed a nod, fingers digging into his forearm. His cock and fingers were relentless against her, and she felt like she was about to scream.

“Yes, I’ll be good for you, Elijah, I’m so- so close.”

“So good...” He murmured. “Cum for me.”

The pleasure erupted inside of her, her hips stuttering and her pussy clenching around him as she reached the brink of orgasm. Elijah groaned at the feeling of her coming undone around him, his hand falling away from her clit. He gripped her to him and thrusted inside of her a handful more times before spilling inside of her. Elena relished in the feeling of him in those last moments before he released her.

It was done.

Elena collapsed onto the bed with Elijah close by, unable to move, to think, even to breathe. He shifted himself over so as not to crush her, the pair panting deeply in the thralls of their desire.

The phrase total loss of purity echoed in her mind as she opened her eyes and looked upon Elijah. The shameless way she begged for him, the way her hips moved in search of him. She had corrupted herself entirely. Defiled by an Original.

In more ways than one, they were linked together forever.

After a minute, their breathing settled into silence.

“Do you think it’ll work?” She whispered.

Elijah looked over at her, sitting up slightly. He raised a hand to gently move one of the strands of her hair away from her face. It felt as intimate as anything they'd just done. The heat having died down between them, there was nothing left to do but face the music.

"I have long learned to keep hope at bay whenever Niklaus is involved."

Elena nodded. Of course he was right, but she tried not to look too concerned. He seemed to notice.

"I hope you don't regret this night too deeply if it does not. I recognize what a sacrifice this must've been for you."

Elena shook her head, mirroring him as she slowly sat up as well.

"I don't regret it, Elijah."

He smiled softly, and she returned it.

"Neither do I."

・❥・

The next morning after Elijah left, Damon arrived at her house. She could tell he was relieved that she was indeed alive, but simultaneously annoyed at having been ignored. He wore his usual leather jacket, black jeans and boots, with a few strands of black hair falling into his eyes. She couldn't help but compare the two men that were at her door just a few hours apart. A leather jacket and a suit.

"Oh good, you're still standing. Would've been nice to know." He raised his cellphone up as he crossed the threshold. "You know these nifty little things called cellphones? I called like three times."

She'd passed out almost immediately after Elijah had left, though she'd only been able to sleep a few hours before she couldn't ignore Damon any longer.

"Sorry, I just fell asleep. Bonnie and I were going through some old grimoires trying to find something." I hope that's convincing enough. She'd even made sure to shower and change after Elijah had left, not wanting Damon to risk sensing anything had been awry. She led him upstairs back up to her bedroom, desperate to go back to sleep.

"And? Did our witchy encyclopedia find anything?"

"She did, actually."

"Mhm. I bet."

Elena looked over at Damon with a raised brow at his suspicion and he met it with a smirk.

"You hatched a plan, didn't you?" He did the eye thing. Elena blinked and turned away, giving a noncommittal shrug.

"Not really. It was barely a plan."

"Fine, don't tell me." Damon closed the space between them with a single stride until he was looking down at Elena. He gave another smirk. "Just promise me it wasn't anything stupid."

Elena smiled. "You have my w- I mean, I promise."

Damon nodded once, then reached over her shoulder to grab something from her dresser. Elena's heart dropped when Elijah's red rose came into view. Damon twirled it between his fingers with narrowed eyes and a crooked smile.

"What's this, then?"

・❥・

Fin.

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