#i hope he still has that grill <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[cementcornfield]

Joe on Ja'Marr buying him a grill and "giving him" a spot on his top 5 most fashionable NFL guys list

[serqphites]

been sick for so long and all i need is abby to take care of me like the good girlfriend that she is !!! also look at her lil smile im acc deceased nobody speak to me ever again

16+, modern!au, sfw, throwing up (r!), this is short and ass

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do not even THINK about lying to this girl about your sickness… she will not buy a single second of it.

"abby i promise you i'm-" sneeze, "fine..." is there even any point trying to defend your case any longer when abby is looking at you like an unimpressed, disappointed mother with her hands on her hips?

she's already called issac to tell him that she isn't going to be in work until you're better. he tried to refuse and order her to come in, but abby didn't back down and stood her ground until he eventually backed off because nobody is more important than her girl!!

she quite literally cannot leave you alone, always rushing whenever she has to leave your side just in case you need her (she definitely trips and eats shit on the stairs because she was trying to get back to your room a lil too fast)

laying on her chest!!! her big arms wrapped around you and holding you close, kisses being peppered atop your head whenever she enters a cutscene in whatever game she's playing because you begged her to let you watch her play. it took a little convincing because abby just wants you to sleep and get the rest you need, but the second you flashed her those sad puppy dog eyes she was handing you the controller to let you pick out a game for her to play.

this girl always has tissues on her, stuffing her pockets full of them so she's ready for whenever you need them

i can just picture you making those funny noises people do before sneezing and abby practically TELEPORTING to you and shoving a scrunched up tissue in your face. she would be so proud of herself too and just look at you like "did i help? :D" yes you did sweetie you did such a good job!!!

you can’t convince that this girl doesn’t make the best grilled cheese and homemade tomato soup known to mankind, it’s always her go to when you’re sick (not that you’re complaining because it’s INCREDIBLE)

not being able to sleep because you can’t breathe and you’re just in so much pain, so abby lays awake with you until you eventually fall asleep :( unless she knows you’re okay and asleep she physically cannot fall asleep, her mind won’t let her.

abby for sure keeps a bucket on her side of the bed for in the middle of the night (she doesn’t want you trying to reach for it and accidentally falling and hurting yourself)

abby is jolted awake almost immediately once you yourself wake up with a startle, shooting up into a sitting position as your hands fly to your mouth. she’s springing into action without even realising it, reaching down as quickly as possible to snatch the bucket and place it into your lap. “in the bucket baby, good girl there you go” she mumbles in that raspy sleep voice, one of her hands keeping a hold of the bucket in case you can’t while her free hand moves up to hold back your hair.

abby running you a bath with all of your favourite essentials lined up ready for you (need that). oh and she is 1000000% washing your hair and body for you, she can’t have her baby tiring herself out now can she?

even when you start to feel better she’s still just as attentive, you assure her that she can stop and just take a break but abby just continues whatever she was doing like she literally can’t hear you LMAO

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a/n: i’m genuinely so sorry this is so bad 😭 im still sick and barely had the energy to write this but i just wanted to post something SO bad. hope you’re all having a good day/night !! <3

[pedroscowgirl]

Hi sweetheart🫶🏻🤍

I was wondering if you could do a Hugh Jackman x kind! fem reader, where he's having a tiring day and comes back home. You've cooked him a nice dinner and made pumpkin spiced cinnamon rolls for desert🫶🏻He appreciates the settlement and wants to give something back, but it was his night.

I love your fics bbg <3

A warm fall night

Hugh jackman x fem!reader

Warnings: smut/fluff, minors dni!

P in v (wrap it up guys), creampie, oral m!receiving, couch sex , slight mention of alcohol (not too much), reader has hair lmk if I forgot something🙏🏼

masterlist

A/n: hi bb! Thank you sm for always supporting me! 🫶🏻 sorry it took so long, but I hope u like this💋

The door to your home creaked open softly, and you heard the familiar shuffle of shoes against the doormat as Hugh stepped inside. The late evening sun cast an orange glow through the windows, but the air carried the first crisp hints of autumn. You glanced up from the kitchen counter, already knowing by the way he moved that it had been a long day. His shoulders were hunched with exhaustion, and the usual spark in his eyes had dimmed.

“Hey,” you greeted warmly, putting down the dish towel and walking over to him. “You’re home.”

Hugh turned toward you, his smile small but genuine. “Yeah. Finally,” he said, his deep voice gravelly with fatigue. He placed his bag by the door and kicked off his shoes, letting out a heavy breath. He looked so worn down, and all you wanted was to make sure he left his troubles at the door tonight.

“You look tired honey” you observed softly, reaching up to smooth your hand across his arm in a comforting gesture.

“Long day. I feel like I’ve been running on fumes,” he admitted, leaning into your touch. “But it’s better now.” His eyes found yours, full of gratitude already.

“Well, I thought you might need something nice to come home to,” you said, guiding him toward the kitchen table. “Sit down and relax. I made your favourite." He sat down and looked up at you,"you are my favourite"

Hugh looked at the food and raised a brow, and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips despite his tiredness. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“Of course I did,” you replied with a soft laugh. “You’ve been working so hard lately, I wanted to make sure you could unwind tonight.”

The table was set simply but beautifully, with candles flickering in the center and a hearty meal waiting for him. Grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and buttery mashed potatoes, comfort food at its finest. You placed a glass of red wine in front of him, watching as he took it all in. He looked touched, almost overwhelmed for a moment.

“This looks incredible,” he murmured, eyes flicking back to you. “I can’t tell you how much I needed this.”

“You don’t have to,” you said, smiling as you sat down across from him. “Just enjoy it.”

As Hugh dug into the meal, you could see the tension start to leave his body. Each bite seemed to relax him a little more, and you felt a sense of satisfaction just watching him unwind. It was rare for him to take a moment for himself; he was always giving so much to everyone else, always on the go. Tonight, though, you were determined to make sure he felt appreciated.

After a while, you cleared the plates and returned to the kitchen, a playful grin on your face. “I hope you saved some room,” you called over your shoulder.

“For what?” Hugh asked, leaning back in his chair, his interest piqued.

You turned around, holding a tray of pumpkin spiced cinnamon rolls, the golden-brown swirls drizzled with a light glaze, still warm from the oven. The sweet scent of cinnamon and nutmeg filled the air, instantly making the room feel cozier.

His eyes widened as you set the tray down on the table. “You made these? You’ve been busy.”

“Just wanted to make sure dessert was special too,” you said, sliding one of the rolls onto a plate and handing it to him. “Pumpkin spice is perfect this time of year, don’t you think?”

Hugh chuckled, taking a bite and closing his eyes in pure enjoyment. “You’re spoiling me tonight,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “These are amazing.”

You sat down next to him, watching him enjoy the dessert, your heart swelling with affection. There was something so satisfying about knowing you’d given him a bit of comfort after such a hard day.

Hugh took your hand across the table, his fingers gently tracing patterns on the back of your palm. “I don’t know how you do it,” he said softly. “You always seem to know exactly what I need.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you replied, smiling as you squeezed his hand. “Tonight’s all about you. You give so much of yourself to everyone, I just wanted to make sure you get a little something back.”

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb brushing gently against your skin as he looked at you with a deep sense of appreciation. “You don’t know how much that means to me. I’m so lucky to have you.”

You could see it in his eyes, the weariness fading, replaced by something softer, more relaxed. He had needed this—a night to feel cared for, a night where he didn’t have to be “on” or worry about anyone else.

After dessert, you led him over to the couch, the soft glow of the candles still flickering in the background as you settled down beside him. He stretched out, pulling you into his arms, and you both melted into the cushions, the warmth of the evening wrapping around you.

“This,” Hugh said quietly, his arm draped over your shoulders as you leaned into him, “is perfect. I feel like I haven’t had a chance to just... be in a while.”

You nestled closer, your head resting on his chest as you listened to the steady beat of his heart. “You deserve it. No need to do anything tonight. Just relax.”

Hugh chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know it’s supposed to be my night, but I can’t help it. I want to give something back.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, smiling. “You being here is more than enough.”

But he wasn’t having it. Gently, he shifted, pulling you on his lap and his lips found yours in a soft, lingering kiss. When he pulled back, his voice was low and sincere. “You make everything better, you know that?”

You shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the warmth of his body beneath yours. As you moved, you could feel him growing beneath you, the subtle shift in his breath giving him away. His hands instinctively tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as you began to gently grind against him, your movements slow and deliberate.

A soft groan escaped his lips, his head falling back as he gave in to the sensation, eyes fluttering closed. The way he responded to you, completely immersed, sent a thrill through your body. You reveled in the control you held, the connection building between you.

But just as the heat began to build, you slowly pulled away, rising from his lap with a teasing smile playing at the corners of your lips. His eyes opened, clouded with desire as he watched your every move. Without breaking the gaze, you reached down, undoing the button of his pants, your fingers deft and patient.

You freed him gently, your touch light and careful, feeling the weight of the moment between you. You knelt before him, your lips finding his dick.

Each sound he made, each quiet groan or sharp intake of breath—spurred you on, filling the room with a charged energy. His hand flew to your hair, his fingers tangled in the strands as he guided you with barely perceptible movements, letting you set the pace. Every motion was filled with deliberate care, a mixture of affection and desire growing stronger between you.

You could feel the tension in his body mounting, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. His breathing became heavier, ragged with anticipation, and you knew he was close. His hips bucked slightly, and the warmth of his body against you sent a wave of satisfaction coursing through you. You could sense him nearing the edge, so you quickened your pace, eager to give him everything he wanted.

But then, just as his breathing hitched and his grip in your hair tightened, he suddenly stopped you. His hand slid from your hair to your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, your breath catching as you realized how close he was. A soft whine escaped your lips, the loss of contact leaving you yearning for more, but his gaze, dark and full of desire, held you in place.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, thick with need. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making you shiver in anticipation. “I want you to ride me, babygirl.”

The way he said it, so calm yet commanding, sent a thrill through you. You bit your lip, a flush of heat rising in your chest as your mind raced. Without a word, you nodded and took your pants off, a smile playing on your lips as you shifted your weight and moved to straddle him. His hands immediately found your waist, guiding you into position, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that made your pulse quicken.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the feeling of him beneath you igniting every nerve in your body. His low groan vibrated through the air, and you felt his grip tighten as you sank down fully, taking him in. For a moment, you stayed still, letting the intensity of the connection settle between you both. The room was filled with quiet breaths and the electric hum of anticipation, each of you lost in the feeling of the other.

His hands slid from your waist up your sides, fingers grazing your skin as he urged you to move. You began to roll your hips, slowly at first, finding a rhythm that matched the deep, unspoken connection between you. His head fell back against the couch, his eyes closing as he let out a soft, guttural moan. The way he reacted to your every movement, the way his body responded so naturally to yours, only encouraged you to go further.

As you moved, your hands found his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles beneath his shirt. The friction, the closeness—it all felt so perfect, like the two of you were made for this moment. His hands never left your body, guiding you, lifting you, as you moved together in sync. His breath was ragged now, his voice low and strained as he whispered your name, filling the space between groans of pleasure.

The pace quickened, and the tension between you built with every movement, each of you caught in a loop of need and desire. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, urging you on. Your bodies moved in perfect unison, your breath mingling with his, the closeness of it all making your heart race.

Your pace quickened even more as you felt him tense beneath you, his grip on you becoming almost desperate. His groans grew louder, and you knew he was close again—this time, you weren’t going to stop. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, your lips barely brushing his as you whispered, “I’ love you.”

With that, everything between you seemed to reach its peak. His body responded to yours in perfect rhythm, and together you chased your realease, both completely enveloped in the heat of each other. "I love you to sweetheart. So much.."he moaned as he came into you.

The rest of the night was spent in quiet bliss, the two of you wrapped in each other’s presence. Hugh’s exhaustion slowly faded as the night wore on, replaced by a calm contentment. For once, he wasn’t thinking about work or responsibilities, just you, and the warmth of the home you had created together.

As you both drifted off into sleep, tangled in each other’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel that tonight had been exactly what he needed. A reminder that no matter how hard the world was on him, there was always a place for him to rest, always a place where he was cherished. And that place was with you.

taglist (dm if u wanna be added): @ermlady @elloredef @haytchee @melaninjoys @megangovier @blue2jay @hearts4suri @narniabusinessbitch @jadenlyday25 @getmeoutofhell @rockytheluver @stark-ironman @shellbilee @kurcoswife @ru-kru @corvusmorte

[gloxk]

just sitting here high asf thinking about getting the sloppiest head from aot guyzzz…*HEAVY ASS SIGH* let me wish upon a star hoping someone could write about this for me…*LONG HEAVY EXTREME SIGH.*

⁺ 　 . ✦ Favorite eaters ⁺ 　 . ✦

(Eren Y. Armin A. Connie S.)

A/N: ugh yes girl ik the feeling … im to sitting here wondering how nasty eren would eat the kitty…BUT ANYWAYS TYSM FOR 600!!! NEXT STOP 700!!! AHHH!

Synopsis: Aot men as your favorite eater.

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♡ Eren ♡

Ughh omg..Eren giving you nasty head after he pissed you off…The type of head that makes you run away in shame!!!

“Givin me an attitude ain’t gonna get you anywhere, you know better den that.” Eren scoffed, while tossing a blunt over to you.

Oh boy how he was so undeniably wrong.

You could tell Eren was unamused with your bullshit. He wasn’t taking you ignoring lightly at all.

“You gon fix it or am I, figure it out.” he whispered in your ear. You stood on what you dished out, you weren’t fixing shit.

You chuckled at him in response, how stupid he was to think you were going to pipe down.

That was until he found his way between your thighs..

One hand tangled in his brown locs and the other one holding a blunt. Best combo..

You lazily rutted against his tongue while his piercing twirled against your puffy clit.

It was so hard to look him in the eyes after he made you cum on his tongue 3 times.

“Still got an attitude baby?”

Let’s just say..you ain’t had one after that.

♡ Armin ♡

Oh..lawd. I said this once i’ll say it A FUCKING AGAIN. Armin is a pussy eater expert. He’s VERY talented in that ‘field’..

This man has no problem eating it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Hell, he will wake up and decide he’s hungry and start going crazy.

That’s how your morning starts..with Armin stuck between your thighs eating it so you can wake up.

Eyes barely opened and you’re already on the verge of cumming..his way of saying ‘goodmorning’.

He so eager to do it too. Sometimes yall could just be watching netflix and he will insist on eating you out.

“Well, I mean, the show is kind of boring. Just come on, it will be quick.” He’ll beg and beg, “Please, I know you’re tired, I can help you go to sleep faster!”

His contact name is NyQuil in yo phone! (If you know. you know .)

When he say fast..oh baby he mean fast. That tongue can move at speeds you didn’t even know existed.

But his favorite time to get to munching is before you go to work.

“We got 10 minutes Armin.” He don’t need even need 10 he will make you cum in 5.

♡ Connie ♡

Ex! Connie getting fucking wasted and coming back home and eating you till your cummin everywhere…

I just know he eats it with his grillz on..I just know.

You want nasty head? Connie is your man for it. He gonna make it SLOPPY SLOPPY.

“Baby whatchu mean, we supposed to be in love..” his words slightly slur, he had a fuck boy grin plastered over his face. “stop acting like you ain’t happy to see me.”

He wasn’t supposed to be there and he knew that. But you couldn’t stay mad at him for long, especially when he was telling you how much he missed you. “Cmere baby i’ve been missin you..” & “I know you mad at me lemme change that.”

if ‘Let my face be yo chair’ was a person…

Sitting on his face is a pleasure to you and him. He gets to see his (ex) girlfriend and you get some head.

A win win in your books!

You grinding against his golden grills while his hands rub your waist up and down. “You got such pretty moans, lemme hear em baby.” & “Uh-huh, let it out mama.”

He’s looking you dead in your eyes while doing it too…

“You made such a mess baby. Don’t worry go to sleep, ima clean it up.” UGH THIS MAN….

best ex ever!

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going absolute feral for these men it don’t even make any sense.

[zombvic]

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

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hi, i hope you're doing okay!

so look i know your requests are closed but i just had an ✨insight✨while reorganizing my room today and i couldn't stop thinking about it, so i decided to write it down here cause either i'd forget it like tomorrow. you don't need to do it, obviously, but if you will, take your time.

so. fem!reader and bucky, established relationship (maybe married) and she's pregnant but she doesn't know cause it's like, super early, she didn't even have morning sickness yet. and mr. super-soldier-enhanced-hearing can hear the baby's heart as soon as it starts beating and he's like confused at first but when he realizes what it is he starts crying and hugging her waist and she's like "buck? you okay love?" and he says "you're pregnant honey, we're having a baby!" bucky's super emotional and thrilled and beyond happy he starts laughing through the tears. he gets super protective of her and her belly but like always pampering her making sure she's drinking enough water and eating and going out at three am to but something shes craving and he's like, super excited to shout to the world he got his girl pregnant with his baby. and he starts sleeping with his head on her belly just listening to the baby's heartbeat as a lullaby.

(he's gonna be the best dad i just know it <3)

hii angel!! love it!! I did change some things, hope that’s okay. thanks for requesting and hope you like it💌

>requests now open<

EXTRA GRILLED CHEESE.

bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count. 1066

summary. bucky has suspicions that you might be pregnant

For the last week, Bucky had an expression you struggled to place - his face often pulled together with intrigue, brows quizically furrowed when around your company. At first, it seemed normal to you - his infamous resting bitch face, but the more he wore it around you, the more you started to worry. 

You often felt as though you were bothering him with your talking, the features on his face unusually hard and rigid as he listened to you. It was a silly thought, really - he's your husband. He'd tell you if he needed a minute of quiet. 

But the harder you looked, the more you began to realise his face wasn't that of judgment, but instead inspection - like he was analysing you.

Elbows resting on the kitchen island, you lean over the countertop, getting closer to Bucky sitting on the other side.

"Another one?" you ask, reaching for his empty plate.

He wryly smiles. "Only if you are."

"One is never enough," you chuckle sweetly, pulling the ingredients back out of the fridge - collecting everything you need for grilled cheese. "Might do a few more— been really hungry lately. That cool with you?"

Bucky hums softly, head tilted to the side as he watches you - completely smitten. That confusing expression long gone. 

"I got it," he stands, moving around the island to you on the other side. "I got the rest. You sit, honey."

You smile cutely, stepping aside and sitting on the countertop - allowing your husband's help. "What do you want to do tonight? Movie and snacks?"

He places the sandwiches in the pan and moves to stand between your legs - slotting his lower half between. Giving you a chaste kiss, he smiles, eyes soft as he looks over you. "Sounds good. Will have to go to the store though— don't have enough in."

"We can go after this?" you offer.

He hums, kissing you sweetly. He pulls back, eyes darting over you. "We'll stop past the pharmacy first. Gotta pick something up."

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Back within the comfort of home, you and Bucky begin to put away the items from the store - bags open on the worktop as you rummage through them, standing side by side. 

Bucky stills and turns to face you, reaching into his pocket. "I uh..." he pauses and clears his throat. "I picked this up while you were looking at things in the pharmacy," he starts, pulling out a small rectangular box. "Feels stupid, I don't know," he shrugs, not confident with the direction of his proposal. 

Your eyes flicker from the box in his hand and up to his face, looking over him inquisitively. "A pregnancy test?" you ask, taking it from his light hold.

"Feels like I'm insulting you," he chuckles bashfully, stepping closer to you. "It's just... I have this feeling," he says softly, extending his hands to rest on either side of your face. "You don't have to take it."

"No— no, I do— I think. I want to. It's just that..." you exhale faintly. "We haven't really spoken about this for a while. What if it's not the result we want? What if we don't like what we see on the test?" you ask anxiously, fiddling with the box.

Bucky pauses, a soft smile on his face as he tilts your face back up - making you look up at him again. "We have time," he says sweetly. "If we don't like what we see, there are changes— there's other options," he solidifies his reassurance with a kiss. "I'll be happy with either result."

"Should I do it now?" you ask, looking down at the box.

"You do it when you're ready, honey. Doesn't have to be now, doesn't have to be today."

Briefly reading over the writing, you feel a slight swell in your heart. It all felt so daunting. You knew this was something you'd both eventually want, but the idea of it beginning now was enough to make you feel queasy. Everything was going so well in your lives, and this was such a big step in your marriage - you were just scared of what the result would do to you both.

With a deep inhale, you shrug sweetly, feigning bravado. "Piece of cake."

"Piece of cake," he repeats, kissing your temple. 

Stepping aside, you walk into the bathroom - box clutched in hand as you read through the directions. The heavy thumping in your ears distracting you from understanding it all. 

After following the instructions, you place the stick aside on some toilet paper and call in your husband, moving to sit on the edge of the bath. Without missing a beat, Bucky steps into the small room, eyes focused on yours as he walks to sit beside you - slipping his hand into yours assuringly. His large hand enveloping yours. 

You sit in uneasy quiet for what feels like an hour, each of your brains whirling with thoughts and ideas and questions - the noise far too loud in your minds. 

Then, finally, after a while, your timer goes off, the obnoxious sound interrupting you both from your fazed-out states.

"You look."

"Are you sure?" he asks, holding your hand as you both stand.

You hum anxiously, nodding at him.

With one hand tightly in yours, the other reaches for the little stick - fingers loosely wrapping around it. Bucky stills, the features on his face slowly softening.

"What does it say?"

He nods faintly, his brows curving up in the middle. "Positive," he murmurs, the shock evident in the way his tone wavers. "It's positive."

"Positive?" you repeat, your expression widening.

He hums, enveloping you in a tight embrace - pressing kisses into your cheek. 

"We're having a baby," you mutter, voice cracking slightly.

"Yeah," he nods, pulling back to look over your face - checking you were okay with it all as he is. "We're having a baby," he echos you, cupping your cheeks.

"You're okay with this?" you ask, focus blurring from a few stray tears.

He nods firmly. "Of course," he chuckles, his tearline slowly filling. "Are you?"

"Yeah," you laugh lightly, nodding - the gentle grip of his hands moving with the soft motion of your head.

"I'll give you everything you want. Everything you need— I'll get you it all."

You already had everything you wanted.

[dragonridernoobie]

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.

[keepthedelta]

okay it's kinda specific but is there any brocedes fact that is often overlooked but you think that is essential (or perhaps gives a new approach) to the lore?

that's such a good question. i have several, i hope you don't mind

the first one is the "he'll always be my best friend in my heart" quote. i've seen a lot of people use it as a very earnest declaration etc. (or if they believe in the nico is obsessed with lewis shit as a sign of that) but it was actually nico making a joke when he was doing commentary (on the italian comms i think). he was asked a question about lewis and jokingly/sarcastically said "in my heart he'll always be my best friend", and then immediately clarified that it was a joke (maybe recognising the narrative that would be spun around it). i know this seems kind of anti-brocedes but i do think it is essential to the lore that people recognise nico is not a weird as fandom likes to make out. he's absolutely weird, and he's definitely not normal about lewis, but he's not obsessive, and he feels comfortable enough making jokes about them. when you contrast that with lewis who either refuses to say nico's name in conversations where he is the most relevant person (the better teammates than max interview) or brings him up unnecessarily and then panics about it (grill the grid), i think it changes the dynamic of who is yearning, who is "over it", who is winning the idgaf war (it's neither of them but the difference is lewis lost by playing and nico is open enough about giving a fuck that he's not pretending to play). i am biased, but i also think that if you look back at them during their careers, lewis was always weirder about nico than nico was about him, although again, neither of them can truly be described as normal about each other.

then there's nico beating lewis in the 2004 f3 series that they shared. the narrative of brocedes describes it as lewis always beating nico, lewis being the one to win and nico always being slightly behind. and largely this is true. but in 2004 they were both competing in the 2004 f3 european series, albeit for different teams. neither of them won, but nico narrowly beat lewis. now they were in different teams and nico himself has said that some teams had better cars and equipment than others and that made a difference in the end result. but, nico still beat lewis. he had nearly double the number of dnfs/dns (6 to lewis's 3) and triple the number of wins (3 to lewis's 1), finishing highest of all the entrants who eventually made it to f1 (nico himself, lewis, adrian sutil and robert kubica). but nico himself barely seems to remember this. the narrative of lewis always being better, always beating him, is something he seems to have internalised, even though it isn't quite true, or at least, not as true as people make out.

my third bit of lore is that mclaren wanted to sign nico for the 2008 season. following the drama of fernando alonso (affectionate) and spygate, mclaren had an open seat and ron dennis wanted to fill it with nico. he even offered to buy out nico's contract from williams, but frank williams viewed nico as their best hope and refused. the driver that eventually ended up replacing fernando was heikki kovaleinen, nico's gp2 rival and 100% finnish to his 50% (yes nico's national identity crisis does come into this). lewis ended up winning the championship that year. heikki took only 1 victory, and while i think lewis would have beaten nico, i think nico wouldn't have been a doormat for him like heikki, and would have won at least a couple of races, which would have allowed felipe massa and ferrari to succeed. in many ways i think an argument can be made that nico not getting that mclaren seat really helped lewis to win his first championship, in the same way that if lewis hadn't gone to mercedes, nico would have won three, or if nico had stayed, there is a very real possibility that sebastian vettel would have won 2017. their presence and their success dooms the other, and it always has.

my final thing is that they are the most successful teammate pairing in f1 history. it kind of links back to the last one, where the fact that they are each as good as they are hurts the other one, unlike a lewis and valtteri line up or a michael and rubens line up where there is a distinct number one driver and the other one is to be sacrificed for him. but, even though both of those pairs were together for longer (nico and lewis aren't even in the top 5 longest teammate pairings), it takes more than a number 1 number 2 driver lineup to be the most successful. it takes nico and lewis, who are both number 1 drivers (don't come for me on this, nico would have flattened the likes of valtteri, rubens, or mark webber and you know it). although they were only teammates for four years (and one of those was a sebastian vettel/red bull dominance year) they achieved more pole positions, front row lockouts, wins, podiums, and 1-2 finishes than any other pairing in f1 history. they were utterly, utterly dominant, and that's why they hurt each other so badly. they were the dream team, the absolute best f1 could come up with, but they weren't just competing as a team, they were competing against each other, and only one of them could win

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

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.

[sleepyangelkami]

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

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

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?”

[chaosandmarigolds]

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)

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

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!

[funishment-time]

🔵 Kodaka BlueSky Q&As: Female DR Characters (Specific)

⚠️ DISCLAIMER: Please be advised! Translations of all Japanese answers derive from a combination of Google Translate and my manager's three-quarters-remembered Japanese. We've tried our best to work out what he's saying, but there will be mistakes here and there. Do not take this as gospel!

To avoid spreading (too much) misinfo, where we're completely boggled about an answer, we've decided not to even make an attempt. We'll still list the post, but mark it accordingly.

���️ AN IMPORTANT NOTE FROM KODAKA BEFORE READING:

First of all, the questions answered here are not official. Everything that is official is what is said within the work. In contrast, this is simply what Kodaka, the creator, thinks, and it is not the correct answer. Use this as a starting point to enjoy the depth of each character, or to say, "That's not right!" and enjoy it with your own interpretation. I think of this as a way of communicating with the characters who live in fiction. This is important, so please spread the word.

💕 FEBRUARY 2024:

Q: I apologize if this has already been discussed somewhere, but I would love to hear about the reasons and episodes behind choosing Kitayama Takekuni as the author of the novel "Danganronpa Kirigiri."

A: I like Kitayama's novels. They are mysteries, but I felt there was something in common between them [DR & Kitayama's work] in the writing and dialogue.

/////

Q: In her report card, it was stated that SDR2's Nanami Chiaki has a father and brother who are programmers, but does this only apply to SDR2's Nanami and is she separate from Despair Arc's Nanami? In the reference book, there is no data about Nanami's alma mater, but is there a possibility that information such as the alma mater of Despair Arc's Nanami will be released in some form in the future?

A: That's right. It applies to only SDR2 Nanami. I wonder if there will be any information released about Despair Arc Nanami...

/////

Q: Excuse me for asking a question!! I think games are essential to Nanami, so I wonder how she would react if they were confiscated!

A: I guess she'd end up looking like Gudetama.

NOTE: The adorable Sanrio depressed egg guy.

/////

Q: Mr. Kodaka, do you have any comments about Kitayama Takekuni's "Danganronpa Kirigiri"?

A: Before the series began, I had consulted with them about the overall structure and points of reference, but after the series began, I felt like I was mostly enjoying it as a reader.

/////

Q: Excuse me for my second question. I would like to know the reason why Kirigiri Kyoko has her braids undone on one side in the timeline of the anime "Danganronpa 3: The End of Hope's Peak Academy Future Arc" and the manga "Danganronpa Gaiden Killer Killer" and if there is any background reason for this...

A: I've not heard why, in part because it was left up to Komatsuzaki-kun. I thought on my own that it was because she had become an adult.

NOTE: Komatsuzaki is the guy behind Danganronpa's art.

/////

Q: Excuse me for the second question! Yumeno-chan was called a "shishamo roe" by Iruma and a "grilled horse mackerel" by Ouma, but what does she think about those metaphors?

A: "Huh?"

NOTE: A shishamo is a type of fish. Also, he's answering as Himiko, if it wasn't clear.

/////

Q: Why do we not get any undisguised Mukuro sprites in Danganronpa S?

A: I had absolutely no involvement with Danganronpa S.

NOTE: You'll see him reference this a few times too. He didn't do Summer Camp at all!

/////

Q: Why did you decide to become a maid, Tojo-san?

A: I think that because she could do anything, she felt it was boring to use her power for herself and felt more comfortable serving others, and that is why she was so selfless.

/////

Q: If the characters in Danganronpa were 16.7 years old in 2010, they would be 30 years old in 2024 if they were still alive. What do you think they would have been like when they turned 30 if they had lived a normal life? I don't need to know everyone, but I'd like to hear it.

A: At the very least, Fukawa is dead.

NOTE: It's true, but he shouldn't say it.

🍀 MARCH 2024:

Q: In the profile of Genocider Syo from Ultra Despair Girls, she lists "girls that aren't moe" as something she dislikes, but since she has deliberately stated "aren't moe", does that mean that "girls that are moe" exist in Genocider Syo's opinion?

A: "I think it's either 'not moe' or 'other.' I don't do moe."

NOTE: Answering as Syojack, it seems.

/////

Q: Does Yumeno-chan ever wear casual clothes? If so, does she wear a wizard's hat?

A: "A robe like a dark mage's is my personal attire. I don't go out on windy days because it all flips up."

/////

Q: when you wrote the ending to Danganronpa Another Episode, were you expecting to use Monaca more or was her arc always going to end the way it did in Danganronpa 3?

A: In truth, Monaka's story ended with just another episode. However, we wanted to have as many characters in Danganronpa 3 as possible, so we decided to add her to the anime.

/////

Q: Does Harukawa-san eat sweet things?

A: She used to lick rock candy on the job to replenish her energy.

/////

Q: What would happen if I confessed to Mioda Ibuki?

A: She sometimes responds with songs, but she usually doesn't know how to answer.

/////

Q: I believe the character of Fukawa Toko (Genocider Syo) is originally based on the protagonist of Clock Tower GH, but are Genocider Syo's murder weapon and motive for murder also based on Tono Masayuki's mystery novel "Scissors Man"?

A: Neither of them are right...! I imagined Genocider as a monster like the ones in Ushio & Tora.

NOTE: Clock Tower GH is a video game known as Clock Tower 2 in the US. It's a point and click survival horror. Ushio & Tora is a supernatural/dark fantasy manga from the early 90s.

/////

Q: Does Fujisaki have a favorite food?

A: Mini katsudon.

NOTE: Katsudon is a pork cutlet bowl.

/////

Q: What kind of clothes does Fujisaki Chihiro like to wear (or usually wear)?

A: Unisex jeans.

NOTE: It's not exactly a question so I won't list it here, but a Chihiro fan responded with excitement, at which Kodaka replied "100 points for your reaction."

/////

Q: Excuse me for asking a question! In Ultra Despair Girls, Fujisaki Taichi had a photo of Fujisaki [Chihiro] in a sailor uniform, looking like they were in their rebellious phase (?)! It's so cute! I'd really like to know how the photo was taken and if there are any untold details about the Fujisaki family!

A: No matter what Fujisaki [Chihiro] is, their father can't help but take pictures because they are a cute kid, but Fujisaki [Chihiro] themself is embarrassed, and since those around them are becoming more and more rebellious, they are acting a little like a rebel, but later they will probably feel sorry for their father and be depressed.

/////

Q: Why is Enoshima Junko so cute? What's her favorite food?

A: "I think it's because I live life the way I want to. I get bored easily, so my favorite things change every day."

🥬 APRIL 2024:

Q: I think Celes' dream is to live in a Western castle surrounded by handsome men, but if she had to choose one of the handsome men from Danganronpa, who would she choose? From watching Celes' fantasy scenes, it seemed like she only had a limited number of handsome men, so it's possible that there isn't a type among the characters that appear, but if there is, please let me know.

A: Probably none of them are in that category. I think she wants to create a world like Interview With Vampire.

/////

Q: Yumeno-chan, what type of handsome guy do you like?

A: Something like a pop star.

NOTE: My manager says another great translation would be "trendy bastards." Kodaka loves his fictional daughters...

/////

Q: Why does Fukawa Toko hate taking baths?

A: It's a hassle because you have to put the clothes on after you take them off, and you have to dry them after they get wet.

/////

Q: Today is Asahina-san's birthday. What would you give her that would make her happy? I'm sure she's been getting lots of donuts from everyone, so I'd like to give her a unique present that will leave a lasting impression!

A: "Shoes for my younger brother!"

🌺 MAY 2024:

Q: Did Enoshima clean up the victims' bodies and rooms?

A: I think she used technology to that extent, though Enoshima, impatiently cleaning up the mess, also looked hopelessly cumbersome and hopelessly kawaii.

/////

Q: Why does Yumeno-chan hate the ocean?

A: Because it's big.

/////

Q: Excuse me for asking a question! Is the story about the school festival in the Danganronpa original drama CD written by Kodaka-san? There is a scene in the drama where Fujisaki wants to wear a cute apron, which was quite unexpected for Fujisaki in the main story, so it was a shock. Was there a possibility that Fujisaki would embrace cute things in the main story as well?

A: I think I only wrote the very first one. The one that has a white and black disc. If I remember correctly.

/////

Q: Excuse me for asking a question! I think that in the articles(?) released during the development stage there were many scenes that were not in the main story. Were these scenes faked to hide the contents of the main story, or were they actually there during production? I'm curious if there were any scenes where Fujisaki-kun was suspected in court!

[This person included this image:]

A: This is an image made up for a proposal. It was made before the story even existed.

/////

Q: What do you think is Kyoko Kirigiri's favorite type?

A: Just look at Danganronpa!

/////

Q: Iruma Miu's favorite thing is "programs for young children," but what kind of programs for young children does she like? Programs where you can sing and dance along, educational programs, or maybe anime programs for young children...

A: "I sing along when the host sings, and I work with her when she's doing crafts. Other than that I just watch while swearing."

/////

Q: Can you cook, Kirigiri-san?

A: "I want to cook but I need to wear gloves and that's where I'm stuck. I really want to cook." In response to all this, that guy…(oops, no more on that)

/////

Q: Excuse me for asking a question! (Sorry for asking so many times lol 💦) In DR2, Nanami Chiaki said, "I have a father and brother who are programmers," and I interpreted this as Fujisaki Chihiro and Fujisaki Alter Ego but are they actually different people (because they were created by the program left behind by Fujisaki?)? She also said other things that reminded me of Fujisaki, so I've been wondering about this for a long time!!! I look forward to your answer!!!

A: I am pretty sure that was the impression I had at the time.

☀️ JUNE 2024:

Q: Celes, I believe you usually wear gothic lolita clothes, but do you ever wear sweet lolita, hime lolita or other types of lolita clothes?

A: "I just tried them on and threw them away."

/////

Q: Does anyone in the Danganronpa series get headaches?

A: Fukawa.

🎇 JULY 2024:

Q: Is Nanami-chan popular with the guys?

A: I think a lot of guys like her.

/////

Q: What content does Tsumugi Shirogane like more? Yaoi content or Yuri?

A: "I like all of them, so I change my taste depending on the season."

/////

Q: What were Junko and Mukuro's parents like?

A: They were an ordinary couple and a normal family, but their ordinariness had made Enoshima Junko despair from the moment she was born.

/////

Q: I'd like to hear more specifically about Maki Harukawa's usual diet!

A: Rations.

🌭 AUG 2024:

Q: I would like to know about Mioda's family relationships. I wonder if she often plays alone because she didn't have a good relationship with her parents.

A: It is possible that the whole family is like that.

/////

Q: If there was a punishment for Iruma Miu, what do you think it would be? She has a bad mouth, but I think she's a good girl at heart and I love her, so I want her to be happy.

A: You can't be as happy as a good child. It's so unfair lol

🍁 SEPT 2024:

Q: Do you have any favorite games, Owari-chan?

A: Any where I don’t have to use my head.

/////

Q: What is your best magic, Yumeno-san?

A: Self-hypnosis magic

/////

Q: Did Kirigiri cry as a child the first time she went on detective work with her grandfather (a murder detective would see a body)?

A: Kirigiri has never cried over a dead body.

/////

Q: If there was a motivation video in Danganronpa 2, what would Nanami's video look like?

A: 4K video of the Despair Arc of the anime, in which Nanami Chiaki, the model for the character, dies.

/////

Q: What would Chiaki Nanami do when she's in a desperate situation? Will she become a million-man murderer?

A: No.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

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

[eddiesghxst]

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

| previous part | next part |

| 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.

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part ten

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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

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