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be-my-ally · 11 months

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The Lisa-Marie

Big Bunny + The Return Flight (in case you want to catch up!)

Warnings: 18+, exhibitionism (public rehearsal, but no-one else is watching/or sees), elvis is a panty thief for no reason other than it’s now totally canon in my head that he continually stole knickers, fingering, mentions of drug use + abuse, oral (v receiving, p mentioned), jealousy, p in v sex, the briefest mention of a gun threat, references to elvis’ ill health. this is somehow the least-bunny fun + plottiest, while also the smuttiest so uhhh enjoy the angst at the end?

Director Elvis is linked where the scene goes in the middle of this, however there have been some minor adjustments to the opening + closing paragraphs to make it fit *just right* and so they’ve been inserted here.

wc: 12k

Pls forgive me for the longest author note ever:

I went waaaay too far into attempting to make the timeline totally accurate; to the extent that I was noting down what city each night when i wasn’t even referencing them but honestly it was stressing me out so much that I gave up and removed a lot of the references - so this is *mostly* accurate in the general tour dates and vibes but not entirely because … this isn’t a biography, it’s smut with a lil teeny weeny bit of plot.

Confession time! I was and am super unhappy with The Return Flight, there was so much in it that I was excited to share but I think my writing is off and I’m not super sure why, which affected my motivation for this A LOT so apologies for the fact this took a literal months. But hopefully you’ll all think it was worth it! And hopefully a lesser wait for the fourth and final part.

Anyway, I might return Elvis onto the Big Bunny plane for a little spin-off fun but for now, enjoy bunny still being referred to as Bunny even though, by half-way through this, she is no longer a bunny.

October 1974.

You’re awake before him, gently shaking his shoulder as he groaned into the fur comforter that he didn’t want to wake up yet. He eventually shoves you hard enough that you decide it’s probably safer just to leave him as he is, pulling yourself together and redressing instead - he’s still got his eyes closed when you slip out. Ten minutes later you get a note passed to you with details about where to meet them for the pre-show rehearsal but you don’t actually get the chance to see him again, too distracted with dealing with all the matters of the disembarkation and cleaning. After you’re done you change as quickly as you possibly can, ignoring the questions from the other girls about where you’re going - practically sprinting to catch a cab.

He’s already on the stage when you walk in, pacing about - blocking the show as best they can in preparation to allow for the lights crew to have some idea of where he might be at any moment. He looks marvellous - absolutely gorgeous, his hair back but essentially left to do what it likes, all fluffy and soft looking. Eyes bright underneath his tinted glasses. He’s dressed in a white shirt, cuffs like a pirate, damp see-through sweat patches evident when he raises his arms, filigree studded belt, huge against his stomach, blue stones glinting in the lights. You feel your mouth water and tummy start to flip just at the sight of him. He smiles when he sees you, with your tiny little halter dress on, chilly in the cold air of the auditorium at the venue. The breeze causes you to wrap an arm around yourself a little self-consciously as he waves you closer to the stage. You're practically leaning on the edge when he kneels down in front of you and you get a sudden flash of what it must feel like to be a girl at his concert. Someone who hadn't had the luxury of falling asleep beside him, or the feel of his palms against theirs. The feeling of being forced to look up at him, his head backlit by the lights, a halo like he's the goddamn messiah. That feeling of desperately pining for a single moment of his attention.

“Ah-ha! lil Bun-Bun! C’mon up here,” He puts an arm down before retracting it, looking you over more carefully, a note of stern shock in his tone,

“Good lord! That might be more r’vealing than your lil bunny get-up. Uh - here!” He gropes around the floor for his jacket before he thrusts it at you, and you look at it with amusement, it’s a rainbow. Rainbow fringe. It’s truly one of the most preposterous things you’ve ever seen in your life. He grumbles as he holds it out,

“Don’t need every man in here to be starin’ at you. Got work to do - don’t need ‘em bein’ distracted.” You don’t think you’re particularly scantily clad, you’re certainly showing a fair amount of leg but you’re far more covered up than Playboy enterprises would like you to be had you been on shift. But still, it was chilly, so you shrug it on gratefully. The soft leather caresses your arms, encasing you in his thick scent, it’s heavy on your shoulders and big enough that the fringe tassel tickles your thigh.

“Uh Hi, Where-“ You wonder if you should even ask, “Where’d this come from?” You shake your arms out, making the fringe dance.

“Oh - it was a gift,” He grins at you, lips all crooked in his sheer delight, “You like it?” He clearly loves it. So you lean into the absurdity and realise that what you’re about to say wasn’t even really a lie.

“Uh. You know what, yeah I do,” You giggle as you shimmy a little making the strands swing. “I love it.” He looks at you fondly before he leans over the edge of the stage, tugging you up with a grunt.

“Glad you could make it doll, been waiting for you.” You smile back at him, pleased as anything that he’s laying on the charm but that underneath you can still sense the sincerity in his voice.

“Thank you for inviting me.” He pulls you close to him and you brace yourself with a hand on his belt, feeling the weight of the buckle against your fingertips. He reaches down to grasp your hand, pulling it up to press a kiss against it. It’s intimate and gentlemanly and you feel like you’re in a period drama, feeling your chest heave as your breath catches in your throat at the movement, and you’re helpless to do anything but gaze into his eyes. You glance down, eyes catching on the wide white band on his wrist, just above his diamond encrusted ‘Elvis’ bracelet.

You stroke his wrist gently before looking up at him with a questioning brow raised. He kicks his foot out to show you that beneath his gently flaring trousers there’s a matching white band on each of his ankles.

“It, uh, it mimics the weight of the ‘suit, gets me used to it for the performing.” He flicks a wrist, “And, uh, gotta try and get some of this weight off.” He pats his stomach, gripping the side harshly, “No-one wants to see a big doughy ol’ Elvis.” He shakes his wrists at you, and you’re mortified at the fact that it makes you squeeze your thighs, drool pooling in your mouth forcing you to swallow hard. Something about the way the rings on his fingers glint under the stage lights, the way the buckle makes the tiniest little metallic clang, feels akin to being shown a hidden sliver of skin. Makes you think all sorts of things. Of the weight of them around his wrists, of the possibility of them around yours, weighing you down, wrapped around your ankles too, making you heavy and pliable. Or his belt around your middle, the huge buckle pinning you in whatever position he chose. You don’t realise how low your eyelids have slid at this line of thinking until he laughs,

“God - you got them dirty thoughts written all over your face Bunny, this is a respectable r’hearsal, don’t you go getting any ideas now.” He wags a finger at you, you feel like you’re being hypnotised watching it.

“Go on now - hop over there for me, sit yourself down, just watch the show baby.” He slaps your ass, causing you to yelp as he catches your bare thigh, while he grips your upper arm and ‘helps’ to lower you down gently, almost missing his huff of laughter in response. You have to take a second after you're on the ground forcing a deep breath feeling your heartbeat between your thighs.

You take a seat where he’d pointed, content to try and settle down and watch him practice. It’s gorgeous to watch, he struts about the stage, breaking into gospel every now and again, making you smile at the clear little flashes of joy on his face. You’d considered if it was going to be boring, contemplated even bringing a magazine with you but now you were here you can’t imagine being able to concentrate on anything but him. Every now and again he cracks a joke, changing the lyrics to something dirty and tossing you a wink, laughing back at the boys who all join in like a pack of wild hyenas. It’s different to how he is in private, yet shockingly the same - there’s flashes of the insecurity you caught on the last flight, a quietness to him while he waits for a song to be set up or a wire to be fixed. But also an exaggerated boyishness to him, playing the jester for men who don’t seem to be aware he’s putting it on.

He calls a break after you’ve been there about an hour, and he slides himself off the stage to walk over to you. You were going to try and play it cool but you can’t stop yourself from gushing at him;

“You sound wonderful. I can’t wait to see the show tonight.” He smiles, a little bashfully,

“Yeah? I can see you wigglin’ your yittle hips from all the way over there,” He narrows his eyes at you, crinkles forming as his high cheekbones move, “ ‘just wonderful’, ‘s that all I am?”

“Well you’re not - ” You squirm a little under his line of questioning and consistent stare, suddenly feeling a bit too hot in his jacket, “- not bad to look at. You’re so different out here than on the plane.”

“In a good way?” You hum back a non-committal noise and though his brow wrinkles a little he lets it go. Instead leaning back on the chair in front of you, feet crossing between your legs. He folds his arms across his chest, your eyes track the bands on his wrists again and when you look up he’s smirking at you watching him. You can’t take it any longer and his smile grows wider watching you shrug his jacket back off, letting it hang over the back of the chair, fringe tickling your arms as it falls,

“Let’s make this more interesting for you huh, must be boring having to wait for all this - ‘n I can see you’re all fired up for me doll.” You look around, but he’s blocking your view forcing you to focus on him even more, as if he wasn’t already the only thing you could see.

“Oh no, it’s plenty fascinating enough El honestly,” He shakes his head, magnanimously as if he’s doing you a favour,

“No, no, must be boring for an exciting lil girl like you.” He taps his chin almost pantomime-esque in its overdramatic nature.

“Hmm… what shall we do to keep it entertaining.” You squirm silently begging him to stop drawing your attention to his wrists. He bends down, unstrapping the weights from his ankles,

“They’re gonna be a bit big on you. But still,” He kneels down, like he’s the prince and you’re Cinderella, tapping your foot to make you lift it up for him. He slips it onto your ankle, letting it fall down over the top of your foot as the weight drags it down. You wiggle your foot - it’s not particularly heavy, you could definitely still walk and run in them - as was probably their intended use. But they made you feel very … aware, made you notice whenever you wanted to move your leg. He grabs your right leg now, doing the same, placing it back down when he was finished, your legs wide. You glance down at him, realising that your dress was certainly too short for this. You try to close your legs but he stops you with a hand to your knee.

“No, no, darlin’, leave ‘em where they are. That’s gonna be your job ok baby? You’re gonna keep these yittle legs spread, and when you try to wiggle around again these-“ He taps one of the weights “ ‘ll remind you to keep still.” You hiss back at him,

“Elvis - someone’s gonna, you gotta get up - they’re all gonna think we’re up to no good, don’t want - I don’t wanna get you in trouble.” He grins up from between your legs, spreading them further. You cringe a little, feeling the air now brush against your uncovered underwear, feel your wetness start to drool onto the fabric despite the embarrassment.

“Ain’t gonna be no trouble ‘round here little one. ‘Member I’m in charge.” He takes a second to leer at you, and your thighs twitch at him staring straight up your skirt. Finally, he stands up, using your thighs for balance, clutching at them on his way up, you gasp at the firm grip. He leans down over you, one arm bracketed on the back of your chair, and the sudden scent of him, stronger than what was lingering on his jacket almost overpowers you - his cologne almost too much, like walking past a men’s locker room. He leans down to murmur in your ear, his other hand going down to brush against your hip, feeling through your dress for the waistband of your panties.

“C’mon Bunny slip ‘em off, let me have ‘em as a good luck charm. I haven’t got any of yours yet.” Your legs slip a little closer together and while he looks down and smirks he allows it,

“You got a collection?” You ask shocked, tilting your chin up at him, he grins back at you, boyishly and amused ignoring the question.

“C’mon! Hurry up, gotta get back to work in a second baby, want you all bare - so its nice and easy for you to slip a lil hand up there, want you to rub yerself every time you like what ‘m doin, ‘till you’re all silly with it. Okay doll?” He says it like its a totally sane request, and you have to wonder if he’s of completely sound mind. You glance around, double checking that the building is practically empty, and where there are people that they’re all preoccupied with the stage rather than glancing back at you sat in the middle of the row a few lines behind the mafia. You roll your eyes, heart going almost a little too fast, but still obediently lift your hips up to tug your panties down and off, they catch on the weight on the way down,

“No need to be shy doll, I’ve seen it all before.” He winks, as he bends down to pick them up, glancing straight up your skirt as he does. You flinch a little at the sight of them in his hand, if you’d known Elvis was gonna be taking them home you’d have put on something a little sexier, but you can’t imagine that any change could have made his face more gleeful, as he stares down at the wet spot on them before slipping them straight into his pocket.

“You ‘member what you’re meant to be doin’ now.” He whispers in your ear, pressing what would look like an otherwise fairly chaste kiss to your cheek, before sauntering back up to the stage.

You nervously fumble the hem of your dress, delicately sliding a hand up, trying not to noticeably flinch as your fingers brush over yourself. You wonder if it wouldn’t have made more sense to slip your arm down the side of the wide arm-hole of the dress, more subtle perhaps? But all you can hope is that the the way the chairs are placed in front of you obscures your actions should anyone look back. From anyone that wasn’t up high on the stage. You can practically feel his laser focus up your skirt, you’re far enough away that you’re sure he can’t see anything in detail, perhaps not even the way your slickness glistens against your skin, but just the gentle motion of your fingers teasing yourself. There’s a clang as the metal inside the cuff on your ankle knocks against the chair leg and you freeze, anxiously glancing around to check no one had heard. Elvis’ head had whirled around at the noise from where he’s been talking to someone at the side of the stage and you can see the way his face contorts into a knowing smirk.

You didn’t think you’d be into this level of wanton exhibitionism, but the sudden fear that had jumped through you had translated straight into excitement, and you could feel the pulse of arousal swirling with the butterflies in your stomach. You brush your fingers more confidently, rolling your hips with the motion, not even really aware of how much your body was moving, but simply going with it. Your eyes briefly slip closed as you rub a singular finger down your self, trying to build the anticipation, but you can’t resist moving your hand to play with your clit when your vision clears and you witness him moving about the stage - dancing, thrusting. He pauses while they reset something - the mic perhaps, or the lights, and you can feel the thrum of your climax growing; the fear of being spotted, the sheer desire for him, the feel of your feet firmly planted on the floor, weights holding them down, enough to bring you closer and closer.

He starts singing again but if someone had had a gun to your head though you wouldn’t have been able to tell them what, and as you start to move your fingers again you make eye contact with him, swallowing a moan as you watch him attempt to surreptitiously adjust himself. You should feel embarrassed, you think, but instead a sudden boldness creeps over you at the evidence of his undivided attention, and you instead spread your legs wider, your skirt riding into the little roll of your stomach, completely exposing yourself. You run your fingers against yourself, feeling them slip as you gather wetness and drag it up, reducing the friction on your clit when you finally let your finger brush over it again.

Elvis is stood still now, ostensibly staying put so they could manually hold the lights for him to sing a ballad, but in reality in the perfect position to watch you. You watch his face flush as he misses a note, watching you finally dip your finger into your practically dripping entrance. You’re made away of the weight on your feet when your legs try to jerk and your body compensates by crunching in on yourself a little. Making it startlingly obvious to anyone watching, hopefully just Elvis, what you’ve just done.

You let his voice wash over you, and your eyes close as you go to add a second finger, thumb moving to tease your clit with little circling touches. Your climax comes over you suddenly and unexpectedly, a slightly unplanned harder touch directly over your clitoris and the combination of your fingers curling inside yourself sending shockwaves down your spine and belly. You continue to touch yourself through it - dragging it out for a moment. Until you just know that if you push yourself any further you’re going to scream and you have to slow the pace, gently stroking yourself as you slowly come down from the high. Your head had fallen back and with a little effort you manage to bring it back around, shifting yourself upright as you do.

When you make eye contact he winks, mimics licking his fingers, and you look down at your own sticky pair, before following his mimed instruction. You meet his eyes again and watch him trail off mid-sentence as his chest heaves taking you in, squinting under his glasses to try and focus on your fingers leaving your mouth. You make sure for a second that you let your tongue peek out, watching him gulp in response. Before hastily rubbing your hand against your dress, thankful for the colourful pattern that hides all sin. He sets the microphone back onto its stand, slowly, deliberately. Then, he motions you to the stage, and when you make no attempt to move, fear shooting through you that you’re going to be leaving a wet patch behind, he makes the request vocal.

“C’mere Bunny, can’t see you all the way over there.” You rapidly close your legs, weights knocking against each other, and sit stock straight as several of the boy’s heads spin to look at you. Elvis breaks into song, “C’mon and be my little good luck charm.” While pointing to a spot in the front row. You swallow hard, trying to make your limbs cooperate again, but it just looks like pure defiance, and he’s frowning at you when you try to plead with your eyes.

His tone changes, “Ain’t gonna ask again honey,” You flinch as several other heads in front of you turn around to stare. You trip a little as you stand, forgetting about the extra weight on your ankles and when you look up Elvis’ smirking straight at you.

“Can take them off now baby, leave ‘em on the chair, someone’ll clean it up later.” He winks and you suck in a gasp as you do as he directed, the implication of someone having to clean up both the weights and the seat of the chair. You can feel the heat in your cheeks at the complete lack of secrecy, with your mind all muddled you don’t have the capacity to consider that the other people in the room wouldn’t understand the double entendre.

“There we are, right there Bunny,” He points at the same spot again and you gratefully stumble down there, collapsing into it. You can feel your cheeks blazing and you clasp your thighs together, trying to tell yourself to just watch Elvis and not pay any attention to how wet you still are, or the embarrassment of being ordered around in front of everyone.

You sit there primly, for the rest of the rehearsal, ignoring your newfound nakedness under your skirt - unable to draw your eyes off of his wrists, his waist, now you know how those innocuous little white bands feel. Waiting to be dismissed, sent home - although you hope that you might get another invitation. He finishes, stripping off the weights as he’s laughing and thanking the sound guys - although shouting back at them as he stalks across the stage to where you’re sat to the side of the front row.

“That interference needs to be cut by tonight, it’s messin’ with my ears, I don’t care if you have to go out and buy a whole new fucking system - just get it done.” Despite his harsh words by the time he’s kneeling in front of you he’s smiling slightly bashfully. His eyes crinkling at the edges as he mutters to you -

“Don’t know why I keep ‘em around.” He offers you his hand, pulling with his suddenly weightless feeling arms to yank you up with him, clearly overcompensating without the weight, causing you to stumble with the force of it. His arm comes around to steady your waist. He stands there, legs spread and solid, holding you to him, brushing your hair off your neck to whisper in your ear.

“Wanna come back with me, honey? C’mon baby,” He’s pleading with you, entreating you to follow him, babying tone convincing you as if you even needed encouragement. “How - How’d you feel about, I got some things we could watch, we could, could - I sure would love to tape ya, baby.” You lean back, brow furrowing as your mind runs through what he’s suggesting.

(Director Elvis + Model Bunny)

But still, after some consideration you agree, and before long you’re relaxing on the bed with him, taking in the moments of quiet before he’s got to head out into the screaming crowds, performing for the pleasure of the girls and women. He’s magnificent in the flesh, masterful in his ability to command the ultimate attention of the audience. But still, as wonderful as it is to watch him, rhinestones glinting in the stage lights, you have to admit to yourself that you much preferred him in the somewhat faux intimacy of the rehearsal.

By the time you’re all filing up the steps to the plane once more it’s night again, looking forward to a short day-break for you all after the busy past couple of days. Elvis is exhausted, and though he’s gentle with you still you can tell he’s had enough. He wearily waves to the other girls, calling you over to ask for some food before disappearing. You push the cart into where he’s ensconced himself in the bedroom to discover him in the bathroom - door open, and you can’t help but take a peek. Your eyes catch on the little pill bottles lined up on the side, the man himself shaking seemingly every bottle possible into his palm until there was a little cocktail of medication contained in his hand. He takes them with a swig of water and jumps when he makes eye contact with you in the mirror.

“Jeez honey, make a noise next time.” His tone isn’t harsh, it’s not annoyed - but it is solid, serious. You frown, the floor was carpeted but the rickety wheels of the cart still made some noise.

“Oh, uh, sorry - didn’t mean to scare you.” You laugh a little bit in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. He doesn’t respond. “Uh, I’ve got, there’s hamburgers, and sandwiches and uh-“ He’s wiping his hands on a hand towel when he comes out of the bathroom, throwing it back onto the floor behind him when they’re dry.

“S’ok Bunny, that’s good. Just-just leave it over here.” He sits on the edge of the bed, pointing to a spot within arm’s reach. He’s in the tracksuit again, out of the jumpsuit from the show, out of the the sharp outfits you were now used to seeing him in. But he still looks appealing, if not moreso now. Soft, approachable and above all else - cuddly. He’s evidently exhausted, face pale after removing the stage makeup, and he shuffles back on the bed. He’s starting to slur his words a little as he reaches for a sandwich,

“Come. Come sit here baby… come sit here with me.” He pats the side of the bed next to him as he shuffles further up. You do so and he tucks a hand into the crease of your stomach and thigh, thumb brushing in circles, a gently squeezing grip.

“Here.” He holds out a sandwich for you and you take it gratefully, “Gotta…feed you up while I got the chance.” His head is starting to slip forward as his eyes fall closed. You pat his arm, leaning over to take the parchment out of his hand. He grips your wrist, forcing you to put your sandwich down too as he slides down the bed to lie down, tugging you into him.

“S’ok El, just, just close your eyes. You did so good today.” He hums, a little pleased noise like he’s somehow not used to being praised still. He pulls you closer, arm wrapping under and around you, pulling you tight to him.

“That’s it Bunny, that’s it, just - just gonna rest my eyes for a moment, doll. Be…be ready for action in a mo’ - just, ju-“ You shush him, his eyes were fluttering closed, arm clenching around you and you felt it relax a second later as he drops off into sleep.

There’s a few more flights scheduled, but they’re busy ones - short flights with barely enough time to get the men fed and watered, let alone enjoy any other kind of extracurricular activities - there’s a hasty blowjob and an attempt for the world’s quickest round of intercourse and that’s it.

There’s a break for a little while before he cancels the next flight on Big Bunny so you only see him once more, and that time he barely acknowledges you; exhausted from a show he locks himself in the bedroom and doesn’t appear until the plane is touching down. You wave goodbye to him, a little melancholy and hating yourself for wishing that he make some grand gesture to prove it had all meant something, instead he winks at you as he leaves down the steps, whispering a

“Thanks for takin’ such good care of me, Bunny.” As he went.

That’s the last you hear from him. For little over six months you hear nothing else. You’re almost immediately thrust back into the reality of the normal world and you’re kept busy enough that he doesn’t pass through your mind too often.

Occasionally, when you see a tour announcement pop up in the tabloids, or from a fan-club membership that you totally didn’t take out in a pitiful attempt to keep up-to-date with his life, you wonder about him. About whether you were a bit of fun to flirt with, to tease, to sleep with for a couple of days - a distraction from the real life, like all the bunnies were intended to be, or if he’d meant any of what he’d said. The thing is, even if you were curious, you could never know - despite being so intimate, so close to him; had he lied? Did he help every girl through a panic attack with meditation? There no longer felt like six degrees of separation between you, no longer like you were travelling in similar circles, there now felt more like a hundred degrees; what were you supposed to do; ring the operator in Memphis and ask for Elvis’ number? Pull Hef aside on the next flight and ask him? Don’t be so ridiculous, so clingy you tell yourself, disgusted at your inability to let it go.

Time passes, as it does, and though you somehow feel like you can’t escape him, ultimately you have. Months have passed and you’re busy - being promised a promotion, training a couple of new girls and it means that you don’t get to go home for what feels like weeks.

You finally get back to your apartment, relieved to be there for at least a week, with a stack of mail waiting as tall as your arm. You take your time enjoying the peace and by the evening it feels like you can relax for the first time in a long while, glass of wine poured, comfortable little short pyjama set instead of the bunny-approved corset or dress. You’re just starting to open the first of what looks like several catalogues of clothes you’ll never get a chance to wear when the phone rings.

You glance over at the clock, surprised that anyone would be calling you at half eleven at night, when as far as you’re aware none of your friends or family even know you’re home yet. You consider not answering, too content with your night, but it rings insistently so you drag the handset closer, accepting the call.

“Fuckin’ finally,” You’re immediately taken aback by the annoyed exasperation of the voice on the other end of the line,

“Where’ve you been?” You start to protest, to question who on earth is questioning you and explain that you’ve been working but the voice doesn’t give you the chance.

“Listen, Boss’ got a new plane, he’s uh, calling it the Lisa-Marie,” he shouts to someone on his end, “I don’t know man, thought it would sweeten the deal if she knew he’d already named it! Like - ain’t that what you’re supposed to do if you’re negotiatin’ - let ‘em know you have a name?” Right. So, Elvis. Someone is calling about Elvis’ plane. You’re trying to comprehend that when he continues,

“Sorry. Anyway, he wants you on it. He won’t hear otherwise.” He pauses, “Permanently. On call whenever and wherever he needs to fly,” As if he can sense this isn’t the most attractive prospect, “but you’ll uh, all expenses paid for, apartment in Memphis, the whole shebang, you’ll be well taken care of.” You take a second to process that,

“Uh, I don’t quite know what to say - do, do you need to know right away?” He chuckles down the phone at you,

“Well - uh, no, but, he’s goin’ on tour soon and we need the flights staffed by then so….” He trails off, and you know from your limited experience with Elvis and his methods that this means, actually yes, we do need to know right now, and we’re not actually giving you a choice. You take a deep breath, still confused as to why you’re getting this call out of the blue, thinking that you’re going to regret it if you do, regret it if you don’t.

“Oh, uh, ok fine - look I’ll be at one of the offices tomorrow; I’ll give you a call and you can fax me over the information for the dates and things?”

“No need, we need you by July.” You pause, that’s… barely a month away,

“Ok, I’ve got a three week notice period though, I can’t just -”

“We’ll take care of it with Hugh direct.” You laugh incredulously - is that how they think it works?

“Hugh Hefner isn’t my boss - how high up do you think I am? I’m a jet bunny for god's sake.” There’s silence on the other end of the line as if they'd expected you to feel cowed, or awed by their famous friend. You can hear them whispering before the voice returns, just as confident as before;

“Well, we’ll take care of it.” You frown but you’re not sure what else to do but agree - at least this way of something falls through you can claim you had no clue about any of this.

“Ok, but you’ll have to ask for Ellen at the office and I’ve got a notice of -“ You’re cut off by him,

“We’ll make it happen.” Well, you couldn’t say more than what you’d said - you’ll just have to hope they do enough that it all gets sorted somehow, and without totally burning all your bridges.

“Right, well then, -”

“Tickets for your flight on the 26th June to Memphis will be waiting at the airport. Someone’ll pick you up there.”

“Uh ok, um, well then that’s -”

“Thanks again, you’re a doll, bye!” The phone hangs up and you’re left holding the receiver wondering what on earth you’ve just agreed to.

——

It turns out you’ve agreed to a stewardess job pretty similar to any other. You’ve got a cute new little uniform, and it was indeed little, sleeveless and hem skimming the middle of your thighs but Elvis had indeed fulfilled his promise - it was stretchy. With a scarf around your neck and tall boots it almost didn’t feel much different to your bunny outfits. In fact it all would have felt quite similar if it weren’t for the sudden increase in responsibility you were facing. There was another girl who worked on board here and there, but whether as a cost-saving measure (although you couldn’t fathom the necessity considering the gold sinks on the plane) or simply the knowledge that one stewardess and the pilots were enough for a plane of this size you weren’t often put on the plane together. It meant that you were often working alone and solely responsible for the cabin. It was certainly an adjustment, you’d been safety trained before - of course - but you’d never really had to use it; the focus of your jet bunny role had pretty much been to cater to the whims of the people on board. Like a Barbie doll you’d had too many jobs to count, and the responsibility to look good while doing so. On the plane you’d had to be waitresses, dancers, chefs and bartenders but less so a safety officer.

And it’s so strange, you’d not been expecting much but you had been anticipating at least an acknowledgement, or something? But instead on the first flight Elvis collapses in a seat, clearly out of his mind and ignores you completely, There’s this, somewhat odd, hierarchy evident and you somehow just know that you shouldn’t approach him like this - trusting that his needs are being catered for by his entourage. But you can’t help but glance over at him, inspecting that he looks paler than before - almost sallow-like in comparison to the fit tan of the first time you’d seen him in the flesh. So you do your job, and see them on and off the plane with nary a word exchanged between the two of you.

You fall into this habit pretty quickly, flight after flight. When he’s awake his eyes skim over you, unfocused and never stopping for long. You hate yourself for how upset it makes you, he hadn’t owed you anything and yet you still feel like you’d signed up for something under false pretences. It keeps you up at night, wondering how you could have been so stupid - you’d given up a stable salary, a life and an exciting one at that, for this - for him. With every month that passes you’re more and more aware that you’re creeping towards your next birthday and the chance to return to Playboy in any capacity is dwindling. They aren’t shy about declaring there’s an age limit. You feel like you’re trapped, in a never-ending cycle - flight, sort the plane while they’re at a concert, flight, fitful sleep in a hotel, flight, flight, flight.

But then, like magic, two weeks before your birthday - two weeks before the deadline you’d come up with in your head to quit he notices you. He’d been looking better for a few days, on an upward swing or so it would seem, and seems significantly more aware than he had been. He almost does a double-take, as if seeing you for the first time. It’s then that, suddenly, Georgia - the other girl, starts to come on board with you a lot more frequently - taking care of the other guys while Elvis not so surreptitiously pulls you into his excessively decorated bedroom.

It’s not the first time you’ve been in there, you clean the damn place after all, but it’s the first time that you’re able to look at it with fresh eyes, through the lens of the awe of a girl being invited back there as a guest. You feel the bend of the fibres of the plush carpet underfoot, against the smooth sole of your boot.

He sits down, patting his thigh, “Give me your lil footsie baby, them little footsie sooties, put ‘em up here.” You look at him slightly askance, fondly, but still do as he asks, putting first one foot up on his lap, letting him unzip your boot, tugging it off and then your other one when he taps your ankle. He looks up at you, as he holds onto your foot, and you know you’re both getting flashbacks to that first flight, when he’d tugged your heels off, got caught in your pantyhose, the joy of that first time. He grips your wrist, forcing you to kneel onto and then shuffle across the bed as he tugs you while sliding back himself. Pulling you're both placed far enough to the headboard that he sinks down into a lying position and drags you down with him.

“Elvis - I, I, I don’t know what -“

“Shhh baby, don’t worry about anything, just, just feel it with me - you feel that?” He shifts to hold your hand, “Feel that energy? ‘S right between us darlin’ girl, right there.” You’re not really sure what he’s talking about, but you had been feeling the thrum of a connection, willing him to pick up on your silent desires, so you can’t deny a strength of feeling there.

“I feel it.” He hums at you, happily, still holding onto your hand, threading his fingers through yours and pressing his nose against your cheek. He nuzzles at you for a moment, starting off gentle and slow, before rolling you into him and catching your mouth with his. He’s sure of himself, pressing himself skilfully against you - you’re more than aware that this is a skill he’s nurtured, learnt - been judged upon, almost as much as his singing and it shows, it feels no different to the first time you’d kissed. A masterclass in the right moves, just the right amount of bite, just the right amount of tongue, and it makes you buck into him. You’re suddenly desperate for him to break out of the cultured practiced mould, feel him lose control and slip. You gasp, trying to provoke it in him, biting down on his lip a fraction too hard. He shifts his grip to your neck, clutching it to pull you back a little,

“Careful, honey, careful.” You can feel his lips move against your skin as he murmurs and it makes you shiver a little at the tickle of his breath. He kisses across your jaw, little sucking presses, before he returns once again to your mouth.

It’s hard not to assign more feeling or meaning to it than what it is, when he seems to do everything with such feeling. Not for the first time you wonder how it would be possible to be kissed at a concert and then have to continue to go about your life, acting as if nothing huge had happened, as if something totally earth-shattering hadn’t taken place. But then, you imagine, it’s probably not that different to what you have to do.

He pulls back a little, pushing himself up to be more on his knees than lying back, before he slips a hand down between you, pushing underneath your dress to pull at your panties, rubbing a finger on the outside. He pushes them against your folds, circling with his finger until a little damp patch is forming where he’s touching. He pulls them to one side, shimmying his hand underneath, a ring knocking against your thigh and catching on the fabric and your hair as he cups your mound. You reach a hand down yourself, brushing it over his trousers, but you’re slightly surprised to feel him still soft inside. He jerks his hand off of you, gripping your leg instead, shoving your hand away with his other.

You pat his face as it peers over the top of you, the creases in the corners of his eyes a little scrunched up in disappointment and his lips in a slight pout; as if he were trying to stop himself being upset.

“‘S ok El, You’ve still gotta perform tonight too -“ You go to tug your dress back down assuming there was no need for you to remain bare but his hand flies out, gripping your forearm and pushing it against your stomach.

“Take it all the way off,” You look nervously over at the unlocked bedroom door but obediently wiggle down a little, as best you can with his arm still locked over top of you to slither out of the dress. He shifts back down into a horizontal position, sliding himself further down, shirt crumpling with the motion, before gripping you with one hand on an arm and one on a leg, to hint at where he wants you to move to, tugging you until you’re in position, straddling him.

“El - seriously, I don’t think, it’s fine, it happens all the time it’s noth-“ He cuts you off by sharply pulling, with hands gripping right on your hipbones, you closer to him - forcing you to stumble on your knees even further up his body.

“‘Nough of that.” In that wonderful growly voice only he seems able to achieve, he lifts his chin up to press a kiss against your inner thigh. “Can still, still make you feel good Bunny, baby. Still make that pretty yittle cunt o’ yours feel good.” He yanks you so you’re perfectly placed, hands gripping the navy velvet headboard to hold yourself steady. “Just gonna have a lil taste, ok darling? Just needta give me a little more time. Let, let it kick in.” You nod frantically, although you’re not 100% certain what you’ve got to let ‘kick in’.

“Yes, god, yes. Sure.” The kiss, and his brief touches had been enough to turn you on, and you jerk as he holds your thighs to press a kiss against your now bare cunt,

“Oh, fuck.” Elvis laughs against you, and you can feel the vibration up your spine, thetickle sending sparks straight into your stomach. The sheer level of arousal makes you feel almost a little nauseous but you’re distracted by the feel of his tongue moving again, holding you tight to him with his grip on your thigh when the feeling makes you try to thrust out of his hold. You can feel twin bruises form from the thick bands of the ring on each of his hands and the twinge of pain when he lifts the pressure makes you gasp,

“Oh, Christ - Elvis, need, need you to,” You’re not sure if you were planning on asking him to let go, or hold you tighter - but you’re distracted by him shifting to suck down directly on your clit, briefly, just enough to make you choke on your own spit, before he releases, flattening his tongue and moving it down. Every time you clench or move you can feel his fingers digging tighter in and you can’t help but move, grinding onto his mouth and against his tongue. He pulls away, and you shift your hips slightly so you can look down at him, and your head tips back with a moan as he quirks a little grin at you. It’s utterly filthy the way his chin and mouth is glisteningly sticky and wet.

“You like that honey?” You nod, and he returns, surging forward to renew his efforts, your hips circling in response.

“Oh god, yes, don’t, oh, holy fuck, - don’t stop,” You can’t stop moving your hips, and part of you is briefly concerned that you might be suffocating him, but the larger part is more concerned with making sure he keeps licking right there until your building climax hits. His tongue is flicks between lapping at your vagina and your inner folds. Your hips are constantly moving and you grip the headboard even harder, feeling the fabric pile shift and flatten under your hold as he finally captures your little puffy clit in his lips again and sucks hard, reaching up to slip a finger inside you as he does.

Your lower back is starting to ache, thighs beginning to cramp but you can’t think about that, reaching down with one hand to comb through his hair, clutching at it as you thrust up and back, finally your climax rocking through you. He licks you through it, holding you open still, feeling you shudder around him, until you finally insistently tug on his hair enough to make him come away.

You dread to think what it must have sounded like on the other side of the door, the wet smacking having been all you could hear past the blood rushing through your own ears and you’re sure you couldn’t possibly have stayed silent. You watch him wipe his mouth with a sleeve, blushing the whole while before he slips out of the shirt. Fully exposing his bare chest and, finally, reaching down to unzip himself.

You’re sticky and soft when he reaches down, running a finger against you, opening you up to bump against you with his now, hard, cock. You’re not quite sure when it had happened, if it was a delayed reaction to a pill he took earlier, or if he simply was that turned on just by licking you to completion, but you’re not about to complain feeling how his head slips against your wetness, nudging at your clit before he angles himself down, bumping against your entrance.

“There he is, Bunny, got Lil’ Elvie here just for you baby, for my sweet lil - ah, bunny bun,”

Elvis pushes into you, a hand straying to stroke your labia on its way up to clutch at your waist, feeling the way you open up around him - for him. You groan at the sensation - it’s been a while, actually it’s been a long while; the last man you’d been with was the one currently pressing inside of you. He takes a moment to allow you to adjust, although you suspect it also allowed him a moment or two, either to calm himself down or encourage himself up.

“That’s it, honey, there we are, there we go, Oh Lord, here we are, I got you, gonna, gonna do such a good job, you just lie back. I got you, got -“

He’s fucking into you now, slowly, sweetly, accompanying each thrust with his mouth joining onto yours, and sloppy open-mouthed kisses against your jaw and neck. He’s trying to get the angle right, you can tell, but he’s decidedly less sure than he ever used to be, or least how you remember him. Taking longer to hit the right spot, and then almost immediately slipping away and losing it.

“Ah, that’s - that’s it, right there,” You almost cry out as he moves again, begging him in your mind to return to where he was.

Still, he’s not totally unskilled, and the motion of his body against yours, of the feel of his hand reaching down to play with clit, combined with the growling curses and praises falling from his lips, southern accent coming out harder as he loses himself in it, is enough for you to feel yourself start to shudder your way towards a second orgasm, clenching down onto him. That is, apparently, enough to set him off and he takes some time firmly rocking his hips into you, before, with a hand splayed on your tummy for balance, withdrawing fast to shoot across your stomach. He collapses there for a moment, lips in a pout and eyes closed from the sheer pleasure of the minute before.

He rolls off of where he’s pressed against you, where you’d welcomed being crushed under his weight, tummy pushed against yours, hairs tickling your own bare skin to flop onto his back. You watch his chest heave, eyes drawn to his tight little nipples, as he catches his breath back. You take a moment to swipe the cum off your belly with the edge of the bedspread, noting in your head to send it to the laundry later. You know you should be getting up to pee sooner rather than later but he’s holding out an arm to you, and you can’t bear the thought of refusing his offer. Instead curling into him with a sigh. He smells the same as you remember now, that same heady mix of sweat and sex, woodsy heavy cologne combined with the tint of smoke, and you hate how it sends flutters down your tummy again at how you feel a sense of familiarity from it. He murmurs into the top of your head, lips catching on your hair,

“You been here all along Bunny? Hopping around my plane?” You nod and you feel him grimace, “Didn’t recognise you without your ears, or your yittle tail.” You don’t mention that you very rarely wore ears on Big Bunny, and that he had in fact seen you both on and off the plane without them too. He tips your chin up to look at you and you make eye contact with his pair of guilt tinged blue eyes. Your nose wrinkles and he taps it with a finger, “Twitchy lil thing though still ain’t ya?” He pats your cheek, “Still gonna be my bunny? Ain’t got another bunny, got, got,” He stumbles over his words as he takes a breath in, clearly struggling to stay lucid enough to have the conversation, “got other girls, not got ‘Cilla no more, but got, got Linda … and, and - I got a whole list, baby, but no - you’re my only bunny.”

The thing is though, it’s never for long. You prefer the flights after a show to the ones before, he’s more awake before but he’s panicked like a tiger in a cage. It’s still difficult to tell what kind of Elvis you’ll be dealing with on any given night. There’ll be one flight where he’s perfect, drowsy from a show but awake and alert, flirty and fun, and then another where he sleeps for so long and so deeply that you worry he’ll never wake up. The worst are the ones where him and Dr Nick, his father or one of the other boys with that damned black bag disappear into the bedroom for the flight. He stumbles down the stairs after in a daze, clearly half out of his mind. The alternative - that you have to listen to his whimpering cries, that his body aches, that sleep won’t come to him - why won’t anyone listen to him? That he wants his mama, that everyone leaves him, “even my yittle yisa.” Is worse, it makes you wish for when he’s sedated or so over the top in his exuberance that you know his ‘vitamins’ have a lot to do with it. You don’t know how much longer you can silently pick up the pieces - cleaning up when he’s trashed the room in a rage, or left pill bottles littering the floor. Going in to him when he calls for you, acting as his waitress, nurse and on-call girlfriend all at once.

Linda accompanied him often, and you’re shooed out of the way of her keen eyes as they watch you a little too knowingly. She’s sophisticated and classy though, more than you would be in the situation. More than you are. You take the opportunity to swap with Georgia as often as you possibly can when you know she’s coming with him.

You’d avoided her too at first, often being the only one working on the little plane, not usually that many people on board - maybe ten at most, well within the capabilities of a single girl and the pilots. You hated that you felt the sting of jealousy, of worry that he was fooling around with her too, to the extent that when she, unprompted, had reassured you that she had not slept with him and nor would she ever sleep with him you had laughed it off. Pretending you had no idea what she was suggesting.

Linda though proved difficult to ignore. She was a presence - even when she wasn’t physically there - he was swearing to the boys they were through, broken up, done, and then would spend hours on the phone to her. He’d swear he didn’t give a shit about her anymore; just had to keep his promises to take care of her - but then a week later she’d appear on the plane with him. They’d sit cuddled together half the time, shouting and screaming for the other half. You had no idea how to react when she called you in to the bedroom, Elvis’ head pillowed on her thighs, dead asleep. She doesn’t ask you for much, a coffee and some water to be brought to them. You do so, still slightly surprised to be invited to intrude on what seemed like an overwhelmingly private moment. But then, a large part of your job is being invisible when necessary. You don’t expect to her acknowledge you when you return, but she does - she’s polite and courteous, but quiet, eyes never leaving his relaxed forehead. A cynical part of your brain wonders if it wasn’t intentional, if she didn’t purposefully call you in at that moment to prove she was different, but that line of thinking gets you nowhere. It’s not your place to be jealous.

Occasionally there’s other girls with him, you burn when Sheila comes aboard - you’d given up your cover dreams for this, and it feels like she’s the new kid in town - replacing you in every way. Better than you in every way, she’s pretty and lithe and young; you’re young and pretty too but you’re feeling it less and less. She’s above you - in the privileged position to sit at the side of the King while you have to settle for serving him and her. She had the cover, you had gotten pouring the drinks into branded glasses.

Elvis didn’t help how you felt - the first time she came on board he took it upon himself to personally introduce the two of you. He was sat with his legs spread wide, Sheila’s own legs over the top of his, an arm tucking her tight against his side out in the lounge area, the public display of affection almost too much for you to witness.

“Here she is!” He called out when you came around the corner of the half-dividing wall, and you balk a little before steeling yourself to walk over,

“Here I am.” You respond, flatly. He’d been particularly difficult recently, and your patience was wearing thin.

“Looksies - this here is my Sheila,” He raises her arm, she nods politely, “She’s - she’s a bunny too, she was on the cover.” You smile, what else can you do?

“Oh - wow, congratulations.” You nod at her, she’s silent.

“Two bunnies on the plane! My two bunnies together!” He laughs, and the tone and words immediately make you smart. There’s a cruel edge to it that you don’t quite understand, it’s not like you’ve ever turned him down or refused him, not like you’ve done anything to be treated second best - to have her paraded in front of you.

It makes your skin crawl, furious with every decision that led to this point, cursing those pretty blue eyes that you couldn’t refuse. Makes your skin crawl that he’d sworn you were his only bunny; and as ridiculous as it might seem, the evidence that that wasn’t true at all, that it was an empty promise makes you cry yourself to sleep for too many nights in a row. The first time you’d found a notelet, tucked under the bed having perhaps fallen out of a pocket or book,

“To Sheila,

Love you allways,

E.P.”

You take two weeks off, and debate whether you should even return, if it’s worth how it makes you feel. You don’t have time to see anyone else, and you’re not dating him. But then in some ways it makes sense all your emotions would be put onto him, you weren’t physically seeing anyone else, in general, exclusively cocooned in the Elvis Presley Show bubble. There is, you think after three glasses of red wine at home in your fancy new Memphis apartment, nothing else in your life. There is only Elvis. You wonder if you can use that as the excuse on your notice. You make yourself go back though, determined to get a grip of yourself, of your feelings, give it one last try.

It’s short-lived with Sheila, at least from your perspective up in the air above the reality of the ground below. Ultimately, you feel you somehow won. And although he may, every now and again, bring some pretty young thing up into the air with him or have Linda come on board during some of the tour he’s fundamentally alone again - the same group of men his only constant companions. You form your own opinion of them, watching two of them cringe at the sight of the little black bag of pills and needles and two others writing his signature out on blank cheques.

You’re horrified, making eye contact with Charlie, you think, you know their names now you need to start to use them. You open your mouth to say something, but uncertain about what, but he catches your eye, shaking his head and you wonder if there’s anyone on this plane willing to stick up for him. You’re forced ot consider if it’s something you can do too - turning a blind eye to all of this or if you’re going to be forced to leave because you were unwilling to do so.

But then, there’s a few months where he behaves differently, and he looks different - his face brightens up, and though you don’t dislike how he looked before you can appreciate that he’s slimmed down a little, looking less bloated than he had before. A renewed interest in the happenings of the group. Suddenly, he’s interested in you again - ensconcing you in his bedroom, telling the boys to stop telling you what to do or asking you for things,

“It’s not her job - her job is looking after me.” And you do, distracting him as best you can when that’s what he’s after - reassuring him when it’s not. You have to talk him down from a panic at one point and you’re thankful to have the memory of him calming you down to use as your guideline, even if you find irony in being the one trusted to provide the measured breaths.

The sex though, is still almost non-existent; he apologises constantly, and at one point you try to have a conversation about it, lying with him in the bed, cuddled together.

“I’m not your girlfriend, E, you don’t needta explain yourself to me,” He hushes you,

“You’re my girl as much as any of ‘em.” It’s your turn to stroke his cheek,

“I don’t need to be, you don’t hafta say that to me.” He just hums at you, tucking you further under his arm and cupping your face to his chest. That’s when the gifts start rolling in, before you’d even arrived back at your apartment for a few days off, finding on the doorstep a gift bag filled with lingerie. You smile when you see it, but you’re a little puzzled - he’s not even seen you in your underwear in months. Was this a hint? Were you meant to be the one putting out? You took it as you thought he intended it, picking out and wearing the little white set you found in there, but you were unsurprised when nothing came to fruition on the flight. You tentatively bring it up the next time you’re curled up next to him - the flight not really long enough to justify a nap but happy to be tucked up in his chest. You’re drawing circles with a fingertip through the gaping neckline of his shirt, absentmindedly thinking of how best to bring it up.

“El, what’s -, not that I’m not appreciative but you don’t needta buy me things - especially, especially if you’re not gonna get anything out of it.” You refuse to look at him, anxious for his response.

“Wasn’t that what you told me before? That you don’t dress for me?” You can feel him already grinning at you in anticipation of your reaction and you laugh, surprised he’d even remember that conversation from a year and a half ago.

“Well, You weren’t really my boss then.” He chuckles, wrapping his arm tighter around you,

“Oh-ho, so I can have my wicked way with you now huh?” He squeezes you hard against his side. You giggle, and he continues - his tone turning more serious; “Honey… - Bunny,” he laughs when you squirm at being called bunny still, “I’m just, I can’t, can’t do more at the moment but I uh, I do still - I like thinking about you all pretty for me unner that tiny little scrap of a dress.” He flicks the hem, leaving his hand grasping the back of your thigh and your respond in playful outrage.

“Scrap! You picked out this dress!” You smile into his chest as you feel his tummy move with his laugh, “Elvis - you don’t owe me anything, I don’t need to be bought things, you don’t need to feel like we have to do anything. I just, just want you to take care of yourself.” He hums at you, as non-committal as one can be.

He shifts a little so he’s lying on his side, brushing his hand down your body, fingers fumbling as they graze over your core, he seems remarkably less sure of himself than the last time he’d touched you, and you have to wonder if, despite all these girlfriends hanging around, he hadn’t actually been doing it with them either. Whether it’s because his fingers are a little thicker than before, or his skills are simply rusty, or maybe this is all some new technique he’d thought he’d try, he seems to take a while to do anything. He slips a finger between your folds, gathering the wetness you’d started to feel drip as a pavlovian response to his fingers anywhere near you, and rubbing it up your pussy but when he reaches the apex he seems to struggle, fingertip roving around, rubbing down but not quite finding your clit. You squirm as he continues to rub around just a bit too low, his finger making you pant simply from the virtue of it being Elvis’ finger, but not because of success with his ministrations. You panic, eyes flying open, wondering if you’re gonna have to fake it with Elvis beforehe pulls his hand away with a grunt.

“Ain’t no good little, my hands are hurtin’ too much tonight, got them, got them shakes again.” You nod even though you know it’s at least partially untrue - his fingers not in the least bit unsteady, if anything they’d been a little too solid.

“Just, it’s fine to just cuddle El.” He’s silent beside you for a few moments,

“One sec doll, lemme just -“ He shakes his arms out, staring at the curvature of the plane ceiling as if he’s trying to talk himself up. “Ok, ok Bunny, lets, lets give this another go.” He captures your mouth in his, sucking gentle little bruises across the bottom of your jaw, and lowering himself down to your neck. He concentrates there for a moment as he dances his hand back down your body, shifting your dress up again. His touch this time is more sure, more similar to how he’d always felt, the confidence appeared to be back.

He circles your clit just right, the two fingers curving inside you hitting just the right spot, and he moans with you,

“C’mon darling that’s it, oh that’s your lil button isn’t it - let me, just relax into me baby, relax, I’ve got you.” He crooks a finger, and your hips jerk, his other hand reaching over to pin you firmly against the bed while he takes the opportunity to brush directly over your clit once again. You squeal, panting, as he whispers into your neck,

“Such a good girl, good little baby Bunny, c’mon now,” He croons into your ear, voice unmistakable, “C’mon - for me.” His words, the sight of his face, the feeling of his fingers, it all combines so that in mere moments your back is arching off the bed, clutching at his arm as you tip over the edge.

When you’re back into the land of the living, and your breathing is starting to ease up a little, you’re able to sit up. You get onto your knees for him, expecting to reciprocate but he shakes his head at you, “Just, just lie with me, mama, let me cuddle, ‘s that alright? No-one lets - everyone wants somethin’ offa me.” You frown, standing up, his words manipulating you into believing you’d even asked him for something,

“Sorry El- there isn’t, there’s no pressure from me, I just thought because -“ You gesture to his still clearly wet and sticky fingers, “Just wanted to give it back to you.” He huffs, lying down again, and looking over his shoulder at you. Betrayal written on his face. It softens when you clamber back under the covers with him, and he tugs you closer.

It goes downhill fast, the tours just keep coming, and the random, sudden desires for trips here and there. You’ll be home for a scheduled three, four week break and get maybe 60 hours before a call comes in - he wants to be taken to Colorado, California, to Vegas. Before you know it you’re careening into 1976. He swings like a pendulum from happy to angry - the emotions impossible to keep up with. He wasn’t ever wholly staid before but everything seems suddenly emphasised and the erratic nature of his personality is making you wonder if you can do this job much longer. It’s worse without a girl on board. Linda and he may have argued but he was almost always easily soothed. But she’s coming on less and less, and he’s telling tales about her more and more with the boys. Expressing how he hates her shopping now, how she deserves it but doesn’t earn it, how he can’t stand her nagging. He seems to have more girls than ever before, one or two picked up for him in every city, but they never seem to make it onto the plane.

Without the settling presence of a girlfriend that role falls to you, and although you’ve now spent countless hours with him it’s different; the fits and starts with which you get to see him is completely different to being a girl who’s able to be with him in his home - you find him almost overwhelmingly difficult to manage. The first time he’s brandishing a gun and threatening to shoot you for attempting to put him to bed, you laugh - not expecting to be essentially thrown off of the plane for weeks for such an indiscretion. It doesn’t get mentioned again - not until a while later; simply brushed over, forgotten about. There’s no apology, just suddenly one day, a bashful joke gets made with Elvis tucking his chin to his chest to look at you shamefacedly but almost immediately he cracks a laugh, and you’re forced to laugh it off with him.

His health swings like his moods, it seems to be entirely dependent on a number of factors that all seem to change within a minute’s notice. It’s a combination of his mental health, the exact cocktail of medication at any given time, the number of shows he was doing, how often he was getting to see Lisa, whether he’d been home recently, the financial situation or whether he’d recently liked how he’d looked in the mirror. As soon as any one of these changed it would either send him crashing into lengthy highs or a period of lucidity.

You didn’t sign up to be a nursemaid - it wasn’t the role you were expecting to fill but as time goes on it seems the only form of relationship you can have with him. You don’t truly mind, although you do wish for more, if he’s going to let you have this part of him - the part of him that’s sad and lonely, the part of him that he’s ashamed of - even if just for a few hours on a plane where he can pretend to be distinct from real life, then you think you deserve the same relationship back on the ground. But you would never broach that with him, not even when he’s alone, or when he brings a girl on board who doesn’t even make it to the next city. All you can do is stay.

The last part of the year is particularly hard. He looks awful, you only really get to see him directly after a show, the schedule doesn't allow for more spare days in each spot, and the sweat pores off of him. You can’t say he doesn’t look appealing in some ways, you wouldn’t mind licking him clean, or crawling onto his sweaty chest. But in other ways, his face growing paler and yellower, it makes you cringe away from him. It’s not that you don’t want to spend time with him, or that you’re disgusted - a fear he’d mumbled into your stomach one night recently, it’s that it’s so difficult. Difficult to watch a man, so otherwordly virile to succumb to earthly decay. It’s almost painful - and it’s made all the worse by the fact that you’re only given the choice to witness it in fits and starts - over a tour you watch him, keeping a close eye, spending hours alone with him. But then, as you land back in Memphis, or Vegas, or California you lose him again - with no idea of how he’s getting on physically or mentally, no idea of how he’s feeling. He grows distant - and all you want is to make his journey easier, although the destination at this point is unclear.

--------------

TAGLIST:

i’m just gonna tag anyone that’s specifically msged me about it and/or anyone who commented/reblogged the last two chapters - there’s one last chapter to this ‘verse coming soon(ish) so lmk if you wanted to be added or taken off the list before then :))

@ellie-24, @whositmcwhatsit, @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1

#elvis smut #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #big daddy elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #be-my-ally #elvis x you #big bunny #big bunny vibes #be my ally

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siriuslysatorusimping · 6 months

Text

Before I Love You (Gojo Satoru oneshot)

Trying something new... Cross-posting here and AO3 😬

Like I said before, this is Gojo and Rinko, but it's not Another Level or Physical Paradox. Complete AU.

The title is from Takeaway by Chainsmokers

You can also read it on AO3: Before I Love You

Implied/Referenced cheating, past relationships, a tiny lil bit of NSFW

Before I Love You

2017

Her eyes were trained on the field, bottom lip firmly between her teeth as she watched the game.

Holding her breath, she barely registered the person dropping into the empty spot beside her when Mai began sprinting toward the goal, dribbling the ball as she went.

“Ya know,” a voice said, the familiar drawl causing her to jump. “This is the last place I expected to see you.”

She whipped her head to the side as they spoke, her eyebrows shooting up.

Gojo Satoru sat next to her, his bright blue eyes shining behind his dark shades as they swept down her body and back up. The years had been good to him. Still lean but clearly muscular, and his stark white hair was almost ethereal in the early afternoon sunlight. His ridiculously long legs were covered in a pair of teal pants, a short-sleeve tan button-up half tucked into them over a long-sleeved white t-shirt.

He looked good. But he’d always looked good. And he’d always known it, too.

She blinked a few times before shrugging, turning her eyes back to the soccer game just as the crowd of parents cheered around her. Mai was backing away from the goal, throwing her fist in the air as the goalie slammed her own into the ground.

Tie game. They had a chance.

The opposing team called a timeout, and she felt a grin overtake her face when Mai waved.

“Zenins,” Gojo noted, nodding toward the field. “Guessing you know them?”

“Cousins,” she replied absently, shrugging again as she watched Mai accept an excited high-five from Maki. “They asked me to come to the game because their parents weren’t going to make it.”

Their parents never went to their games. Never supported their daughters’ successes because they weren’t academic.

“The real question is, what are you doing here?” she asked, turning back toward him. “Don’t tell me you have cousins-”

“I have a few students on the soccer team,” he replied, jerking his chin toward the field. “I’m here to support them. Looks like this game is a bit more of a game than we all expected, though. Explains why they wanted me to come to this one.”

Her chest swelled with pride at his words. The twins were a surprise to everyone when they joined the team.

A secret weapon of sorts for a school with a losing streak almost a decade long.

But Ogi didn’t give a shit about sports, so he paid no mind to whether their high school had a decent soccer team, even though the girls could get excellent scholarships if the right scouts saw them.

“Been a while,” Gojo leaned back slightly as he pushed his shades up to shield his eyes from the bright glare of the sun.

Five years. At least. The last time she’d seen him was the day of graduation. But they hadn’t spoken. She had just seen him through the crowd and heard his name called as he walked across the stage.

The last time they’d spoken was when she’d thrown him out of her apartment, not wanting to hear his lies.

His bullshit reasons for why she’d seen him with another girl after they’d agreed to be exclusive. After he had asked her for a real relationship. Asked to call her his.

A part of her had known, felt that it couldn’t end well. But she’d agreed anyway. She had to give him some credit, he’d play the part well. For a while.

But in the end, the reality was that he couldn’t hold a relationship to save his life. That he wouldn’t know true commitment if it slapped him in the face.

Because when she’d agreed to a dinner with her father over the break, she’d seen him. Sitting way too close to someone who wasn’t her, whispering in the girl’s ear before his lips were pressed against hers with his tongue in her mouth.

Confirming what she’d known and ignored already: that nothing was enough for Gojo Satoru. He’d never been able to commit to someone before, and she’d known better than to think she would change that, but she’d let herself believe otherwise.

Even after so long, she was almost shocked that he’d chosen to approach her. But that was another thing about Gojo Satoru: he was shameless. She doubted that time changed that.

“You look good,” he stated, giving her a small smirk. “Really good.”

“Thanks,” she replied, trying to ignore him as the game continued.

If she was honest, she wasn’t upset with Gojo anymore. Hadn’t been in a long time.

In fact, she’d mostly been upset with herself for ending up in the position to be hurt in the first place. She had been more upset that she let him hurt her than with him for doing what she’d always known he would do.

“How have you been?” he asked, his eyes clearly watching her face carefully. “Are you-”

“Been fine,” she cut him off.

Her eyes were following Mai again as she ran ahead, clearly waiting for the ball.

The girl suddenly tumbled to the ground hard, her leg twisting slightly as she collapsed. The player guarding her backed away as they tried to appear innocent. Mai shoved herself to her feet, her eyes filled with anger as the two exchanged heated words. A referee broke them apart, the whistle telling them that a penalty was awarded, and Mai gave the other girl a smug grin.

She held her breath again as she watched the teen square her shoulders in front of the goal for the penalty kick.

It went straight in, the goalie having lunged in the opposite direction.

They were winning. A game they were supposed to have no chance in just went from tied to them being up 2:1.

But Mai was limping. The timeout was called, and she allowed Nishimiya Momo to support her as they approached the sidelines. Maki was by her side in the next instant, the two of them listening to the coach for a few moments before Mai accepted an ice pack and sat down on the bench. They both waved her concern off when they turned to look at her, smirking.

The message was clear: Mai’s part was done now that they were in the lead. It was Maki’s job to keep them there.

“Some tough kids,” Gojo leaned forward, his eyes now watching the sisters interacting as the timeout ended. “Twins, right?”

“Yeah,” she replied, nodding absently.

They had to be tough coming from their family, especially with Ogi as their father.

He hummed, and they settled into a tense silence as the game continued once again.

“It’s- it’s good to see you,” he finally said, turning his head to stare at her. “Really. I’m glad I ran into you. D’you live in Tokyo now?”

Her nod was paired with a shrug as she debated just getting up and walking down to check on Mai anyway.

“We should grab dinner sometime to catch up,” he continued casually, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Wanna hear about how you’re-”

“No thanks,” she didn’t bother turning to look at him. “I’m pretty much always busy. Sorry.”

Not a lie. She spent a lot of time with the twins when she wasn’t working. They practically lived at her place now.

Anything to get away from their parents.

“Come on,” he reasoned, a frown in his voice that had her rolling her eyes. “Just to catch up.”

“Not interested in catching up with you, Gojo,” she stated bluntly, finally turning to meet his eyes. Staring into them, she noted the surprise at being turned down twice. “I’d say I’m surprised at your nerve to even ask, but that’d be a lie because it’s you. Everything’s always been a joke to you.”

“Didn’t realize you held such long grudges,” he muttered, a pout pulling the corners of his mouth. He hadn’t changed a bit. “That was years ago. Things are- different now. And I’m not- I’m not asking you out on a date. Just want to catch up as- old friends. Wanna hear about what you’ve been up to. I’m obviously teaching now - I teach physics and math, by the way.”

“Good for you,” she said drily, turning back as the clock ticked down.

The ball bounced off Maki’s hands as she tapped it away from the goal, and Mai was on her feet again, screaming in relief when the time ran out.

It was over.

And they’d won.

Shoving herself to her feet, she went to rush down the stairs, but Gojo stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Wait,” he pulled her back slightly. “Please. Just- let me at least buy you a coffee. I- never got to give you an explanation for- and I want to apologize for what happened between us.”

He ran his hand through his hair as she stared at him with one eyebrow raised.

“I didn’t want your explanation back then,” she began, removing his hand from her arm. “And while I appreciate the sentiment, I still don’t care to hear your apology, either.”

“Rinko-”

“Goodbye, Gojo.”

2011

“You wanna be my girlfriend?”

She tensed, her body going rigid beneath him as he stared into her eyes.

“I- I’m sorry, what?” she asked, blinking up at him. She’d had to have heard him wrong. “Did you just-”

“Yeah,” he nodded, tilting his head to the side. His hips had paused their movement, leaving him seated inside her while he nonchalantly asked if she wanted to be his girlfriend, as if he was asking her about the weather. “I- I wanna call you mine, ya know? Introduce you as my girl.”

She pursed her lips to the side, squirming beneath him a bit uncomfortably as he moved a hand to her face.

“You want a relationship?” she balked, searching his face for any sign that he was messing with her. “As in exclusive?”

“We basically already are, yeah?” he gave her his boyish grin as he started rocking his hips again. “Just without a label. I mean, I haven’t slept with anyone else in a few months now. Dunno about you.” His cock was brushing against her gspot with each roll of his hips, and she struggled to focus on his words as she moaned quietly. “But- yeah. What do you say? Can I call you mine, Rinko-chan?”

The skeptical look on her face made him stop, his hands cupping her face.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, all teasing gone now. “Been thinking about it for a bit, actually. I- I wouldn’t bring it up if I didn’t mean it.”

He had a look in his eyes that made her uneasy. It felt far too serious for him. This wasn’t who he was. Gojo didn’t do relationships.

Still, it was appealing. And if he really hadn’t slept with anyone else in a few months-

“I- okay,” she whispered, giving him a hesitant smile. “That mean I get to introduce you as my boyfriend, then?”

“You can introduce me as whatever you want, baby,” Gojo replied cheekily as he pulled his hips back and slammed back into her. “I’m yours however you want me, Rinko-chan.”

“Think my parents like you more than they like me,” he grumbled, burying his face in her neck as he lay on top of her. “S’not fair.”

They were cuddling in his bed after getting dinner with his parents. His mother had grilled her excitedly until his father reminded her that they were there to eat, teasingly telling her to at least wait until they’d finished dessert to scare their son’s girlfriend off.

“He’s never introduced a girlfriend to us before,” the woman had argued, offering her husband a pout that left no question where Gojo had gotten his own from. “You must be special, dear. We’re so excited to get to know you.”

They’d sat with them in the living room when they got back, sharing a bottle of wine as his mother continued gushing about how delighted she was to see her son so happy.

“Don’t be jealous,” she teased now, stroking his hair gently. Her nails scraped along his scalp, drawing a contented hum from his throat. “They’re just amazed someone was able to tame you. Change your fuckboy tendencies.”

He scoffed, biting her neck gently as she snickered.

“My parents don’t know about those tendencies,” he mumbled. “They just know I’ve never dated anyone worth bringing to meet them until you.”

Her heart jumped in her chest, and she willed herself not to read into his words.

“Guess I am special, huh?” her breath hitched as he leaned up, smiling down at her softly.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes shining. “You really fucking are. Lucky to call you mine, baby. Gonna do everything I can to keep it that way.”

2017

“Got one in 3,” Kouji said as he stuck his head into the breakroom. “You take ‘em? I was supposed to go on break two hours ago. You’re better with kids, anyway.”

“Yeah,” she replied, running her hand through her hair as she pushed herself to her feet. “On it.”

She knocked on the door lightly as she entered, her eyebrows shooting up when she saw a familiar face sitting in the corner.

“Megumi,” her fingers input her ID absently as she stared at him. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head, and her gaze moved to the pink-haired boy seated on the small bed, cradling his left arm. She glanced at the summary as the computer loaded, pursing her lips to the side as she grabbed the blood pressure cuff and moved to his side.

“Ittadori Yuuji?” she asked. “Tell me what’s up, kid.”

He shrugged sheepishly, holding his right arm out for her to check his vitals.

“I, uh,” he gave Megumi an embarrassed look, and she noticed two skateboards leaning against the wall beside him. “I tried to catch myself-”

“He missed the rail on the stairs in the park a few blocks over,” Megumi cut him off flatly. “Tried to catch himself, and I heard a pop when he landed.”

Nodding, she moved back to the computer, adding his blood pressure and pulse, along with the notes from Megumi, before turning back to them.

“Anything else?”

They both shook their heads, and she gently began checking his arm.

“It doesn’t feel broken,” Ittadori joked, and she chuckled. “Doesn’t look broken either.”

“Unless it’s sticking out, they typically don’t,” she said, causing him to laugh. “We’ll get some x-rays to check out the full damage, kid. But it’s likely you just dislocated it-”

An urgent knock on the doorframe cut her off, followed by a slightly panicked voice that made her tense.

“Yuuji-kun!”

Of all the people it could be.

“Gojo-sensei!” the kid exclaimed excitedly.

“Are you okay?” Gojo asked, moving to his side quickly. “They didn’t give me any details, just that you were in the emergency-”

He trailed off when he turned to face her, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Hey.”

“I’m okay, Gojo-sensei,” Ittadori said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry if I worried you.”

“You’re fine, Yuuji,” he replied, turning back to the kid. “Just glad you’re okay. What happened?”

She tuned them out as she moved back to the computer, typing a few notes as she double-checked Ittadori’s information.

Emergency contact: Gojo Satoru

Huh.

Megumi said her name quietly, and she tilted her head slightly to let him know she was listening.

“My phone is dead,” he stated, holding it up. “Can I borrow yours to call my dad?”

“Yeah,” she replied absently, pulling it from her pocket and unlocking it for him. “Unlike you, kid. You don’t usually let your phone-”

“Someone-” he paused, giving Ittadori a pointed look, “drained my battery watching videos.”

“They were cat videos!” Ittadori argued defensively. “Cute, fluffy little cats! How could I not-”

“Use your own in the future,” Megumi snapped. “I’ll be right back.”

“Stay out of the breakroom,” she ordered, watching him scowl. “Yeah, thought so. I’ll bring you cookies next time I visit. But if there are any missing when I go back in there, I’ll know it was you.”

2011

“Thank you for agreeing to this.”

She shrugged, leaning back in her seat as she stared at her father across the table.

“I promised my mom I’d be civil,” she admitted. “S’long as you don’t invite the little shitspawn of yours, dinner isn’t so bad.”

His mouth pressed into a firm line as she raised her eyebrows, daring him to disagree with her.

“Fair,” he admitted, giving her a reluctant smile. “I am sorry. For- how he treats you. I know I played a major role in it, but that doesn’t make it right. And-”

“He’s an adult,” she cut him off. “How he treats me is on him now. I’ll- I’ll try not to hold it against you too much.”

His smile was small, and she took a deep breath as they ordered their food.

It wasn’t horrible to spend time with him when he was sober. She didn’t enjoy it, but it wasn’t miserable.

It also gave her an excuse to surprise Gojo. They hadn’t had a chance to see each other since she’d spent the first few days of break with his family. They’d both been busy. The holidays were when her mother’s bakery was the busiest, which was why she’d had to return to Kyoto instead of spending the entire break there with Gojo like he’d originally asked. But now that the holiday rush was over, her mother no longer needed the extra help.

Gojo’s mother had already said she was welcome to stay the night after dinner with her father, and she’d gone to their house to drop her overnight bag off so she didn’t have to lug it around with her. She was excited to see Gojo’s face when he realized she’d also brought him some of those cookies he was obsessed with.

She excused herself to go to the restroom as her father ordered a small dessert, sending a reassuring text to her mother that dinner was going fine. She was being civil, just as requested.

Her mother’s response, expressing how proud she was, made her smile as she walked back to her seat. The distinct white hair caught in the corner of her eye made her gut churn as she turned her head.

Gojo was sitting in a booth near the front, his arm around a girl she didn’t recognize. He was whispering something to her, and her cheeks went red as he smirked and nipped her ear. His hand was running along her thigh under the table, inching its way up slowly. Suddenly, he lifted his hand to her jaw, turning her so he could press his lips to hers.

Can I call you mine, Rinko-chan?

She snapped out of her daze when he slipped his tongue into the girl’s mouth.

I’m yours however you want me, Rinko-chan.

Her chest felt empty as she realized how meaningless it had all been. That she’d let herself get pulled in by his boyish grin and sweet kisses far too easily. That she’d really been that stupid.

Blinking, she kept walking, fighting the hollow feeling threatening to drown her as she took her seat. Her father furrowed his brow at her sudden change in demeanor.

“Not feeling too well,” she explained weakly, trying to figure out how she was going to get her bag from Gojo’s house without raising too many questions from his parents about why she was leaving. But she couldn’t stay there now. Not when she felt like she was going to suffocate at the thought of being anywhere near him.

She felt so stupid.

Shame was choking her as her father’s face scrunched in concern.

“You can go,” he said, his eyes searching her face. “I appreciate you coming to dinner. I- won’t subject you to them too often.”

Shaking her head, she forced herself to give him a small smile.

“You’re doing a- decent job,” she informed him quietly. “I- also appreciate the effort. Doesn’t make up for everything. But- it’s a start.”

He gave her a wide smile, his dark eyes shining slightly as he nodded.

“I’ll let you go since you aren’t feeling well. Have a good night, Rinko.”

“You- too.”

Pulling her phone back out as she moved toward the exit, she typed a quick excuse to Gojo’s mother, saying that something came up and she needed to get back to Kyoto after all. If she hurried, she could make the last train of the night.

As she approached the front, she felt someone watching her. She turned her head briefly to see Gojo staring at her, his eyes flitting in the direction she’d come from suspiciously. It was almost comical how his jaw dropped open slightly when he saw her father. As if he thought he’d caught her cheating.

I’m yours however you want me, Rinko-chan.

His arm withdrew from the girl’s shoulders quickly, now looking panicked as she heard him say her name.

“Rinko-”

She turned away, keeping her expression blank as she walked out, refusing to acknowledge him any further.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, a message from his mother saying she hoped everything was okay and to be safe getting home. Another message asked if there was anything in her bag that she needed, saying she would have Gojo bring it to her if there was.

At this point, she didn’t want any of it back. Not if it meant having to see him. Everything in that bag could easily be replaced.

Just like her.

Part of her wondered if he would follow her, but she knew better. She wouldn’t ignore the fact that she knew he didn’t have it in him to care enough again. Not when the message was perfectly clear.

Rushing to the train station, she barely made it in time for the last bullet train to Kyoto.

The tears finally formed as she dropped into her seat, curling her legs beneath her and leaning her head against the window. She blinked at her reflection, hating the sight of the crying girl staring back.

Three months. She’d wasted three months being an idiot. Allowing herself to be lulled into a false sense of happiness, of love. Let herself believe his lies.

He’d never wanted a relationship. He didn’t do relationships. She’d known that from the beginning. Should have listened to her gut when he’d asked to be exclusive.

Can I call you mine, Rinko-chan?

He’d wanted her to be his. But he’d never wanted to be hers.

I’m yours however you want me, Rinko-chan.

Liar.

2017

She’d been right. The kid had dislocated his wrist.

As they showed him how to care for the splint, he smiled sheepishly again and thanked her.

“Don’t sweat it,” she replied, going over the instructions and reminding him to take over-the-counter meds for the pain. “You’re all set, kid. Good luck.”

Ruffling Megumi’s hair quickly, she walked out and back to the nurses' station.

As she sat down, she noticed that Gojo had followed her.

“I- Can I talk to you for just a minute?”

“Working,” she replied instantly. “Don’t have-”

“What time does your shift end?” he asked, leaning over so no one else would hear him. “Please, Rinko. Just- ten minutes. I- I know I don’t deserve your time, but-”

“And yet you still ask for it,” she cut him off. “I don’t know why you care after so long. It’s been six years, Gojo.”

“Please,” he whispered, meeting her eyes when she looked up and giving her a small pout. “I won’t bother you again.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, she checked her watch. It didn’t hurt to listen.

“Seven,” she relented tiredly. “I get off at seven. But-”

“I’ll meet you anywhere you want,” he said immediately. “Where works best?”

“There’s a coffee shop at the end of the block,” she sighed again, feeling wary at the hopeful expression on his face. “I’ll meet you there once I get off work. But you get ten minutes. No more.”

“Deal,” he nodded, his eyes lighting up as he gave her a small smile. “I’ll see you then.”

2011

“I- I can explain,” Gojo pleaded, his voice desperate as he called out to her through her front door. “Baby, please. Just let me-”

“No,” she clenched her jaw as it trembled.

She’d cried enough already. The entire train ride back, and while she dug through all of her things to make sure she found everything of his that was in her apartment. Anything that would remind her how stupid she was. All of it was now tucked away in the box sitting next to her front door, which she wasn’t sure if she was willing to open because she knew he’d just force his way inside.

“Baby,” his voice was louder than before, hoarse, as he begged her to let him inside. “Please. Please just hear me out. Please, baby-”

“Don’t call me that,” she cut him off, wiping her eyes before the tears could fall. He didn’t deserve them. And she didn’t deserve to feel sad. Not when she’d let this happen. Let herself fall into his stupid little trap.

When she’d known better than to trust his words.

“Please, I- I have your bag-”

She ripped the door open, yelping in surprise when he fell forward because he’d been leaning against it.

“Baby,” he rushed out, dropping her bag and reaching for her. “Please, just let me explain-”

“Don’t touch me,” she swatted his hands away. “There’s nothing to explain, Gojo. You got what you wanted from me, and it wasn’t enough. So you-”

“That’s not it,” he insisted, following after her desperately. “Please, just- I’m sorry-”

“You’re sorry you got caught,” she snapped, forcing herself to take a deep breath as she felt the walls closing in. “You’re sorry that your fun was ruined. That you don’t get to keep stringing me along like an idiot. I’ve gotta give it to you. You had me convinced. Meeting your parents was a nice touch, I must say. Really sold that you actually gave a shit. Made me feel special-”

“You are-”

“I guess I can’t blame you for taking advantage of the fact that I was stupid enough to believe you-”

“You’re not stupid,” he argued, his brow furrowed as he stepped closer. “Please, just- I can explain. It was a mistake-”

“Which part?” she cut him off, stepping further away. “Planning the date? Going on it? Your hand on her leg? Your tongue in her mouth? Or was it just this entire thing? Was that the mistake? Me?”

The tears broke free, and she wiped her eyes furiously.

“Baby, that’s not-”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” she hissed, running her hands through her hair. “Don’t pretend to give a shit. Just- don’t.”

“I- I do care, Rinko,” Gojo wrung his hands together. “Please, I just- I-”

“How long?” she asked, watching his eyes. “Those nights when you were too tired to call the past couple weeks, were they all because you were busy with someone else?”

He said nothing, staring at her, his expression filled with guilt.

“You were the one who wanted this,” she accused, glaring at him as his eyes pleaded with her. “You said you wanted-”

Can I call you mine, Rinko-chan?

The sob escaped before she could stop it. She grasped her hair, pulling it slightly as reality crashed into her once again, and she realized just how stupid she was.

He had just wanted the only thing she hadn’t already given him. Wanted to make sure that no one else could have her. But he didn’t care.

It was about getting something for the sake of having it.

But she wasn’t shiny and new anymore.

The relationship wasn’t what he wanted, so he went and found something that was.

And now that he’d been caught, he was pretending to care. Pretending to want her.

“Get out,” she whispered, unable to get her voice to come out any louder. “Leave. And don’t fucking talk to me. Don’t come near me. Just- you got what you wanted, yeah? You got-”

Can I call you mine, Rinko-chan?

“Sex wasn’t enough,” she choked, unable to breathe as she realized it had all just been a game. “You got your prize, yeah? Got to call me yours-”

“That’s not what this is,” his hands grasping her face gently. “You’re not a prize, baby. I- you’re mine, and I- I’m yours.”

It was like those words broke her.

She almost couldn’t believe his nerve. That he’d lie so blatantly after what she’d seen. But she knew better. It was Gojo.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” she screamed, pushing him away. “Don’t fucking- you’re not mine. And you never were. You don’t even know what that means. You- you really do just fucking say whatever it takes to get what you want. Anything at all.”

“That’s not- no, that’s not how-”

He cut off as she shoved the box into his hands, his face crumbling as he saw the first sweater she’d stolen from him before they started dating.

“Baby,” he whispered. “Please. Please just give me a chance to explain. I- this will never happen again. I fucking-”

“It won’t happen again,” she agreed, pushing him toward the door. “Because this is it. We’re done. Get out. Pretend I never existed, just like you were at dinner-”

“That’s- no, please, baby-”

“I said don’t call me that,” her chest felt tight, her throat threatening to close, and she grabbed the door as soon as she got him over the threshold. “I don’t ever want to hear from you again.”

“Wait,” he begged, dropping the box to the ground as he tried to reach for her again. “Rinko, wait, please-”

She slammed the door shut, locking it and sinking to the floor beside it as she curled in on herself.

It was her own fucking fault for believing him. For thinking she was special to him even for a second.

2017

“I- wasn’t sure if you still liked matcha lattes,” he pushed it toward her hesitantly. “But I- went ahead and got it just in case? That way, you don’t have to wait in line-”

“It’s fine,” she replied, taking a small sip. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he ran his hand through his hair as she checked her watch deliberately. “I- thank you for agreeing to hear me out. I just- I really am so fucking sorry, Rinko. I fucked up. Really bad. And I really wish I could take it back. All of it. Every single thing I did that hurt you.”

“It’s been six years,” she repeated her earlier words, staring at him. “It’s in the past. I honestly don’t get why you still care so much.”

“Because I hurt you-”

“It was my own fault,” she informed him bluntly. “I knew who you were. What you were like. I let myself believe I was different. That was my fault.”

His face fell as he met her eyes, the blue dimming just slightly.

“I- I was a real piece of shit to you,” he admitted, his eyes staying firmly on hers. “You were too good to be true, honestly. Too good for me. I knew it. Everyone knew it. Shoko and Nanamin never failed to tell me I didn’t deserve you when we were together. And I- I just had to be an idiot and prove them right.” He sighed, fidgeting with his cup in front of him. “My parents fucking loved you. Knew they would, you just- you were perfect.” There was a sad smile on his face. “My mom still asks about you sometimes, ya know. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for losing you.”

“We were never going to work,” she stated, watching the smile drop again. “We both know that. You didn’t want a relationship, not really. You never did. It was just something you thought you wanted because it was the only thing you didn’t have from me-”

“That’s not true,” he argued, frowning. “That’s not what it was at all. I- I wanted to be with you. I- I still do.”

She snorted, somehow not surprised.

“You want to be with me now because it’s a challenge,” she rolled her eyes. “Because it’s something you don’t have. Something that-”

“That isn’t- do you really think I just see you as something to obtain?”

Pursing her lips to the side, she nodded.

“Yes,” she admitted, taking a small sip of her latte. “It’s what our relationship was. You saw something you didn’t have, something that I could give you. And once you had it, you got bored of it. The sex wasn’t enough, so you wanted a relationship, but then neither of those were enough, so you-”

“Please don’t- please tell me that isn’t what you’ve thought all this time,” he whispered, his face crumpling. “Rinko, please tell me you don’t think that it was because you weren’t enough.”

“For you,” she clarified, shrugging. “Like I said, I knew better than to believe that I was somehow special or different from anyone else you’d been with.”

“But you were,” he argued, his eyes suddenly filling with determination. “You are. I- it was me-”

“I know it was you,” she reminded. “I know you fucked up. But I should never have given you the chance to fuck up.”

He was silent for a few moments, his eyes searching her face before he spoke again.

“Do you regret dating me?” he asked quietly, meeting her eyes carefully. “Do you- do you really wish you’d never even given me a chance?”

The question had her gnawing on her bottom lip as she thought, staring down at the cup in her hands.

Did she regret it?

The way it made her feel after, absolutely. She’d felt empty and worthless for a while afterward.

But in the good moments, the ones where she’d thought he cared, she’d been happy. Felt loved. It was why she’d felt so stupid when everything was over.

“Not completely,” she finally whispered. “The beginning was good. But-”

“I- I said I would explain,” he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table as he clasped his hands together. “The- there were two people that I-” he paused, taking a deep breath before meeting her eyes again. “I slept with two others. It- the girl you saw me with- that was the second time I saw her. She- I never saw her again after-”

He stopped, running a hand through his hair as she clenched her jaw. She didn’t even know why she was here. Why she was listening to this after six years.

“When- when you didn’t stay for break, even though I knew it was because you needed to help your mom, I just- I thought maybe I’d already done something wrong,” he continued, swallowing thickly. “Or that you didn’t like my parents. Or- I don’t even know. But I was- I panicked. Because I- I was falling in love with you, and I was fucking terrified. So when the panic set in- when you didn’t stay after meeting my parents-” he shook his head as his brow furrowed. “I just- part of me thought I was softening the blow for myself so when you broke up with me, it wouldn’t hurt as much. It- was fucked up of me to do.”

“So- you cheated on me because you thought that I was going to break up with you?” her eyes narrowed. “Because that’s a great way to save a relationship-”

“I fucked up,” he admitted, dropping his head to his hands. “I- really fucked up. And I can’t ever apologize enough. I- three times. One person twice, the one you saw me with once. I- fuck, it’s even worse saying it all out loud.”

He wasn’t wrong.

It was like ripping open old, healed scars and watching them bleed just for the sake of it.

“I- don’t blame you for not listening to me when I tried to apologize,” Gojo whispered, lifting his head to stare into her eyes again. The blue orbs were bright with a sincerity she was wary of. “But- I’d give anything for another chance. I- I know I don’t deserve it. But I would do anything for the chance to do things right. To do right by you.”

She gnawed on her bottom lip, unable to hold his gaze. Getting involved with Gojo Satoru again was the last thing she needed in her life. But staring into his eyes made her want to believe him.

“I won’t- push any further,” he murmured. “I just needed to get that off my chest. To know that I at least tried to- make things right. Thank you for- listening.”

“You- you said anything,” she said curiously, watching him tense before he gave her a hopeful look. “What- what do you even mean by that? What could I even want from you?”

He chuckled wrily, running his hand through his hair again.

“That- I think that was more of a plea to the universe, ya know? I mean, name your price, and if it’s possible, I’ll fuckin-”

“Why now?” she asked. “It’s been years.”

“Because,” he sighed, offering her a small smile. “I- never thought I’d see you again. Hadn’t seen or heard about you since school. So when I saw you at that soccer game, all I could think about was that it had to be my second chance. It felt like I’d be tossing that chance away if I didn’t at least try talking to you. Today was- I had no idea you worked at that hospital. I was only there because of Yuuji.”

That piqued her curiosity further.

“How did you end up as that kid’s emergency contact?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “He’s Megumi’s age, which means he isn’t in high school yet, so you can’t be his teacher.”

“After school program,” he replied sheepishly. “I- I help out in the after-school tutoring program Yuuji goes to. His parents aren’t around, and I’m the most consistent one there, so he asked if he could put me down as his emergency contact. Figured it’s better than him not having anyone.” He shrugged. “I’ve only met Megumi once. He’s- he’s a cousin, isn’t he? Looks just like those twins. Maki and Mai, right? I- remember you mentioning them once or twice when we were together.”

“A cousin,” she confirmed, pursing her lips to the side as she checked her watch. It had been longer than ten minutes. Much longer. “I- should go. Maki and Mai tend to come over on the weekends, so they’re probably at my place now. Thank you for- apologizing. And explaining.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he nodded.

“I’m- thank you again for hearing me out,” he said, watching her push herself to her feet. “Will I- I know I said I won’t push, I just- wanna ask if- I’ll see you around?”

“I’ll be at the twins’ next soccer game,” she replied, and his eyes lit up. “I- I’ll be at all of their soccer games if I’m not working. Though, Mai is gonna be out for the next two.”

“Can I-” he paused. “If I go, would it be okay if I sat with you? Or just- if I just came and said ‘hi’ instead of sitting with you. I don’t wanna crowd-”

“Ask me again if you see me there,” she cut him off, unable to fight the small smile at his rambling. “I’ll- see you around, Gojo.”

#gojo satoru x original female character #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo sensei #satoru gojo

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borahaerhy · 1 year

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Dealer (8) - myg

Summary: Your boyfriend seemed like a dream come true: always wanting to be around you, making sure you would get home safe, never taking his hands off you. These little comforts became your whole world, and then the only thing you were allowed to have left in the world. Luckily, your boyfriends drug dealer turned out to be a much nicer guy.

Pairing: DrugDealer!Yoongi x Female!Reader

Genre: Mafia/drug kingpin au, Y/N coming from nothing, found family, Eventual smut

Warnings: Slow chapter, Yoongi and Y/n sharing a room, a lot of people blaming themselves, Everyone questions Jimin's motives and Jimin questions everyone else's, protective Yoongi (Kinda subtle but will progressively get less subtle), mentions of death, just a lil unaliving, Jungkook being homeless and also being a little bit of a badass ngl.

Word count: 2.9k

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Note: If you are sensitive or triggered by abusive relationships or manipulation in any way, please do not read this fic, it can be very triggering. It will also be referenced that Y/n used to self harm, and has self-harm scars. This is fic is going to cover a lot of intense topics, and there will be a lot of drugs.

The escape plan seemed to go off without a hitch, everyone rushing to follow Jin’s car rather than yours.

You had spent the past several hours crammed in the backseat of the tiny car with Jimin beside you, Jungkook and Yoongi in the front seats as the extreme tinting was limited to the back windows.

Jungkook was doing exactly as Jin had told him to: you had been taking a very leisurely route and stayed away from any main roads; but no one really dared to speak. Jungkook was his usual brooding self, and Yoongi seemed to mimic his energy; although it was apparent that he was significantly more anxious than Jungkook was.

Jimin was also quiet, brows scrunched and arms crossed as he appeared to be in deep thought, and you didn’t dare break the silence before someone else did.

Hours went by like this before Jungkook pulled into what was obviously a small family-run Inn that you guys came across in the local area. He wordlessly exited the vehicle and walked in to get you checked in. He came out a few minutes later and parked the car around the back of the building.

“It’s flu season,” Jungkook finally spoke, pulling two face masks out of the glove box of the car and handed them back to you and Jimin. “You should cover up.

“Two rooms, twelve and thirteen, Jimin’s with me in twelve, you two in thirteen,” Jungkook’s voice was authoritative but quiet as he handed Yoongi the room key.

The four of you wordlessly went to your rooms, entering the building through the back exit where there weren’t any cameras. You and Jimin exchanged one final glance before you went into different rooms, Yoongi and Jungkook closing and latching the doors behind them.

You collapsed on the bed closest to the door, thankful to finally be stationary again, especially after so many hours completely unable to sleep.

“How are you feeling?” He cleared his throat, his words having come out rough. You sat up on the bed, crossing your legs before you looked up at him. He stood at the desk as he faced the wall, his hands clutched on the edge of it as he hunched over, resting his weight onto it with his head hung low.

“Okay, I guess,” He nodded his head, sniffing before he stood up properly. “How are you taking all of this?” He almost seemed shocked as he turned around. The only thing he could think about was how hard all of this must’ve been on you; and yet here you were, worried about him.

“I’m not sure,” He smiled softly; the kind of smile that was filled with sadness and uncertainty. You mimicked his smile as he moved over to his own bed, leaning his elbows on his knees as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“What happened?” You asked, not really being able to hold back your curiosity anymore. He looked up at you, brows slightly furrowed. “When I was in the room and you guys were going over the plan. And then whenever I was hiding in the cellar,” He nodded his head, still trying to collect his own thoughts.

“Well, the plan was to kidnap and possibly kill Jimin, so I don’t really know what the plan is now,” He paused for a moment, still searching for the words he needed. “But then Jin noticed something, I don’t really know what, but he knew someone was outside the room listening in. We were all handed guns, and I honestly don’t remember much after that until we got down to where you were,” You nodded slowly, looking down at your hands folded neatly in your lap.

“How many people do you think, you know…” You trailed off, still looking down. “Died?” you looked up as you finished, Yoongi’s expression much softer than it was previously. His eyes almost seemed to warm up as they looked at you, searching yours for something as he slowly began shaking his head. He looked down as he stood up and moved over to sit next to you.

“You can’t do that to yourself,” He pulled one of your hands out of your lap and pulled it to his, his long, slender fingers playing with yours gently. “If I tell you any number you’re going to sit there and blame yourself when you had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

“But I did-”

“Park’s the one that sent them, on Zeke’s request; and we’re the ones that pulled the trigger’s. You can’t let yourself take the blame for any of it, Y/n,” You nodded softly, your head hung low as you fought back tears. You could sit here and play the blame game; arguing about who was more at fault but you honestly didn’t have the energy. And Yoongi was right; blaming yourself wouldn’t help your current situation. You had to push it from your thoughts at least for now, while everything was still happening.

You sat in silence for a few more minutes, but your tired and vulnerable state got the better of you. You leaned into Yoongi, resting your head on his shoulder as he moved his arm around you and held your hand gently in his, rubbing his thumb soothingly over your skin.

Across the hall, Jimin and Jungkook had been sitting in silence. Jungkook was on a laptop that looked at least 10 years old and he furiously typed something. Jimin sat and watched him, questions racing through his head.

“Why do you want to help Y/n?” Jimin couldn’t stop himself from asking; he’d only known these guys for a few hours and they all seemed so keen to help her, but he couldn’t help but worry that maybe they had an ulterior motive.

Jungkook stopped typing, his eyes still glued to the screen as his memories took him somewhere else entirely.

Jungkook stopped at the top of the staircase, looking down the daunting dark and narrow passageway before him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath: inhale positivity and exhale negativity or whatever the fuck his sister had been telling him. He did everything he could, there was only so much an unarmed fifteen-year-old could do with a gun pointed in his face. He opened his eyes, as ready as he'd ever be, and began his decent into the damp basement.

“What are you doing back here so early, you’re not due back until the sixteenth,” Jungkook cleared his throat before he began to speak. “Louder please.”

“I was mugged, I only have half the money. They stole the rest of the product before I could move it,” His voice must’ve cracked half a dozen times as he spoke, his voice still soft and nervous. For the first time since he’d entered his office, his boss stopped writing and looked up at him.

“You’re joking, right? Because that’s real funny kid, but if you’re being serious, you don’t want to know what I’d have to do to you,” Jungkook gulped, knowing that he wasn’t someone to be messed with; and he took his money very seriously.

“I-I’ll get you the rest of the money sir, I’m just going to need some time-”

“I need that money by next week, do you understand me, kid? I don’t get to give the same excuse that you just gave me without my head being blown off, so why the hell should I let you off so easy, hmm?” Any relief that had come from his previous breathing exercises was gone and replaced with the most paralyzing fear Jungkook had ever experienced. His eyes widened as his blood ran cold, his heart beating sporadically against his chest so aggressively he swore everyone could see it; hear it, even.

“I’ll get you the money by when you need it, I promise-” his unsteady cracking voice was cut off; the cold familiar barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his head.

Jungkook had two options: start crying and definitely get murdered; or try to get out of this and still probably get murdered. He decided on the latter.

Jungkook ducked down swiftly and spun around on his heels. The bullet meant for his head zoomed past milliseconds after he ducked and landed in the chest of his superior, and before anyone could react, Jungkook had knocked the gun out of the mans hands and had it pointed at his head. Fear overtook everyones faces as Jungkook backed them both out of the room, keeping his gun pointed at everyone before he raced up the stairs.

He tripped over himself, the platform boots he wore to make himself appear older had worked to his disadvantage as he tried to escape. Bullets whirled toward him, crumpling the sides of the bricks around him and leaving perfect cylindrical holes in the door in front of him.

Jungkook shot a few rounds back down at them as he ran, bursting through the door and through the arcade that was used more as a cover for the drug business downstairs then an actual arcade, and out into the streets where he kept running.

He dropped the gun into a dumpster an hour of running later, then continued on his way. All he wanted to do was help out his sister. She was the one that raised him, his parents having left when they were young. She could barely keep up with the bills and groceries, and he just wanted to help her out, even though if she knew what he was doing in order to get the money, she’d no doubt kill him too.

But now as he found himself several towns away rested against a brick wall, the cold January air chilling him to his bones, the only thing keeping him from completely freezing was the jacket he’d wrapped around himself, his knees pressed tightly against his chest with his arms wrapped around them, holding them in place.

His neck was stiff from sleeping on the ground and his stomach empty from not having eaten anything of substance in weeks.

“Get up,” Jungkook quickly moved his gaze upwards to see someone that couldn’t have been too much older than him, a cup of coffee in his hands and dressed with a nice warm jacket over his scrubs. Jungkook didn’t move, eyeing him suspiciously.

The man sighed loudly, putting his coffee on the ground before he stripped off his coat and held it out for Jungkook to take. He looked at the coat, then him, then back at the coat before he stood up quickly, almost stumbling over as he moved and took the coat, wrapping it around him.

“Here,” The man held out the cup of coffee as well. “It’ll keep you warm,” He quickly took it from him and gulped down the burning hot liquid that warmed him up from the inside. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Jungkook,” he spoke softly as they began walking.

“Jungkook, there’s some people I’d like for you to meet,” they walked in silence until they got to a small apartment that was much warmer than the outside, and jungkook thought that he could fall asleep on the spot, while still standing up with the warmth he’d been longing for flooding through him. “I’ll introduce you in the morning, you can sleep on the couch for now.”

Jungkook muttered out a ‘thank you’ as he made his way over and sat on the sofa, which had to have been the most comfortable thing he’d ever sat on. “What’s your name?” Jungkook asked softly.

“Namjoon.”

Jungkook sighed as he pushed himself away from the desk just enough to turn around and face Jimin. “Sometimes people just need a little help. I can’t speak for why Jin’s doing it; but I’ve been in situations that would’ve killed me if I hadn’t had someone help me out of them. Y/n’s the same,” Jimin nodded slowly, looking down as he thought some more. “Why do you want to help her?”

While the question shouldn’t have come as a shock, it did. Jimin had pondered everyone’s motives for so long, he didn’t stop to think that anyone else would find his own to be suspicious; even though amongst all of them, he definitely had the least reason to be trusted.

“She’s different.” He said after a long pause, only continuing when Jungkook gave him a questioning look. “She reminded me that there really are still good people left. Gave me hope that I could be one one day, you know?” Jungkook nodded, fully understanding what he meant, though still not fully trusting him. “I guess I’d just rather die for her than live for the people that hurt her.”

You woke up with a sense of bliss coming over you, the warmth of arms wrapped around you that you’d been longing for for what felt like years. Only the sound of the air conditioner whirring from across the room brought you back to the reality of the situation.

You were in a hotel hundreds of miles away from home in the arms of Yoongi, but for some reason that didn’t put you off as much as you thought it should. His embrace brought you a sense of comfort that Zeke’s arms never did. You felt at peace even though nothing around you was peaceful; nothing that was happening was what you were used to, yet still, you woke up more calm today than you had the entire time that you were living with Zeke.

You nuzzled back into his chest, closing your eyes and humming pleasantly into his chest. He tightened his grip around you, having woken up hours before you. You weren’t the only one comforted with your embrace of one another.

He woke up just when the sun was coming up and found himself unable to fall back asleep. He was scared of what was going to happen, the image of Zeke somehow getting ahold of you again haunting him every time he closed his eyes, along with all of the million other things that could go wrong in the next few days.

Days, weeks, months, even he had no idea how long this was going to take; but he knew no matter what he had to do, it’d be worth it to see you safe. He’d give anything to be able to experience the girl Hoseok had described so animatedly all those times, anything to see you unafraid and unapologetic. Every time he thought of how daunting his life had become, he was reminded why it’d all be worth it when he felt you move next to him.

A loud knock at the door made you both spring back to life, Yoongi all-but jumping out of the bed as you ran your fingers over your hair to smooth it down. He opened the door and both Jungkook and Jimin entered holding plates of food and cups of coffee they’d collected from the lobby’s breakfast bar.

“Eat, we can't stay here long, I’m going to run out to the store to get us all some new clothes so we can get out of here. Yoongi, I need you to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” Jimin smiled brightly, half a bagel in his mouth as Jungkook pointed at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m on my best behavior,” Jimin sarcastically added as he swallowed his food, the new day and two and a half cups of coffee having brought him back to his (mostly) normal self. Yoongi just nodded and waved Jungkook off.

Jimin plopped down next to you, handing you a plate of food which you accepted gratefully. Yoongi sat down on the other bed, gulping down his coffee, still exhausted from his mostly-sleepless night. His eyes stayed glued to Jimin, not trusting him to not take you and run the first chance he got.

“How’d you get wrapped up into all this?” Jimin asked after a very long and uncomfortable period of silence that the three of you shared. He understood that Yoongi was obviously very protective of you, he just couldn’t figure out why.

“I’m the one that took her,” Yoongi spoke lowly, eyes not leaving Jimin’s as he took another long sip of coffee. “I went to go sell to Zeke, she looked scared. Said she wasn’t allowed to have a phone. So I pointed my gun at his head and took her with me when I left,” Yoongi continued, sensing Jimin wanted more information.

“Why let it go this far? Why not just turn her in, save your own ass and return to normalcy,” Jimin knew what he was doing. “I mean, this has completely uprooted your life, and you don’t even know her. Why do you care?” Yoongi clenched his jaw.

“Because she’s a person that needed my help,” Yoongi stood and moved over to the desk where he put his empty cup down before he turned back around to look at Jimin again. “Because I’ve met Zeke’s before and I knew someone who knew how to take care of them.” There was another brief yet tense silence, you softly munching on your toast as your eyes darted back and forth between the two.

“Why didn’t you do anything? Why didn’t you do something, knowing what kind of person Zeke is?” Jimin looked down, his eyes watering as he clenched his jaw tightly, guilt overwhelming him as he thought back to when you’d first met. The more he thought about the comments you’d made about Zeke and the way Zeke acted, the more he realized just how easy it should’ve been for him to step in and say something, do something.

“I wish I had.”

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 6 months

Note

Fluff for Klay!

Him coming home after a rough shooting night and he’s vulnerable to you about his future at GSW (and you too!)

Klay was a team player in every sense of the word. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for his teammates, and he knew that regardless of any shooting records and championship rings, he was nothing without the four other players on the court every night. This also meant that he felt every loss harder than most people would. If he was off his game, if his shooting hand just wasn't connecting, he knew that they were gonna lose, and he felt personally responsible.

He came home after a particularly hard game to a very quiet house. You were usually waiting for him in the tunnel after the game, and the two of you would drive home together, but you were almost nine months pregnant and on bed rest, so you were watching from home. He was glad you weren't there in person to see his bad performance, he didn't want to have to face you while feeling sorry for himself.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" Klay chuckled as he watched you from the doorway of the nursery, cozied up in the rocker in the corner of the room, surrounded by piles of baby clothes. You laid the onesie in your hands on your burgeoning belly, sighing to yourself. "I was going stir crazy baby, plus, I knew you were coming home soon. I promise, I'm fine."

"C'mon, back to bed, mama." Klay held out both hands, carefully helping you to your feet before he guided you back to the bedroom. You planted yourself on the bed while he helped you take off your slippers and socks. You took in his face and how tired and defeated he looked. The exhaustion was normal, but the sadness concerned you.

"How was the game?" You asked, knowing the answer, but hoping it would help him open up a little.

"I don't know", he motioned with his shooting hand, relieving his poor field goal percentage tonight, "I just couldn't get in a good flow. Feels like its been happening more and more lately." He helped you swing your feet onto the bed, pulling the blanket over your body. Trying to prevent him from walking away and dropping the topic, you grabbed his hand, placing it on your belly.

"Stay and talk to me, babe." He leaned over, planting a kiss on your forehead. "You need sleep. I'm gonna watch some game tape before I go to bed."

"I won't sleep if I don't know you're okay." Your tone was gentle and soft. You didn't want him to think you were pressuring him or attacking him when he was already at his lowest. "Just an hour, and I'll be back." Klay raked a hand down his face, realizing how tired he actually was.

"Ouch!" You felt a tightness in your lower back that took your breath away, the pain shooting down your leg. Klay rushed to your side, helping you to sit up. "What is it, your back?"

"Yeah", you gritted out between your teeth, "I think it was just a cramp. Its too early to be contractions." You took a couple of deep breaths, trying to stretch out your back as much as you could with your belly in the way. "Can you get my heating pad?"

Klay disappeared into the bathroom, returning with your heating pad that had been your best friend throughout your pregnancy. "Can I do anything else for you?"

"Could you lay with me for a lil' bit?" Tears were brimming in your eyes, your breaths coming out shaky. Klay climbed into the bed, placing the heating pad between his stomach and your back, gently pulling you in close to him.

"Is that any better?" Klay whispered, placing a hand on your stomach. You covered his hand with your own, starting to relax. "Yes, thank you. Now please, tell me what's going on in your head. You don't have to carry the load on your own, baby."

Klay sighed, leaning his head against yours. "I always used to be so sure of myself and who I was on the court, but lately, I dunno, I just feel like a liability more than an asset to my team." You knew he was referencing his past injuries. Two ACL tears back to back, his return to the NBA was highly anticipated by fans and his teammates, but you knew he had to deal with a lot of self-doubt, and while therapy helped, nothing was truly going to make it go away.

"What do you need? More practice, more physical therapy? I hate the thought of you giving up." You stroked his jawline between your fingers, feeling your eyelids start to grow heavy.

"I don't know, babe. Maybe I need to cut down on my game time, give another player a chance to make their mark." His words started to scare you, basketball was his first love, and he was going to be one of the greats, sure to make the hall of fame years down the road.

"Klay, I know that it hasn't always been easy, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't wish you wouldn't put yourself in a position to get injured again, but you love basketball too much to not put one hundred percent into what you do. That just isn't you."

Klay was silent, your words mulling around in his head. You turned your head to look at him, cupping his cheek. "What do you want your legacy to be? How do you want to be remembered?"

'This. Us, our family. The life we build together." Klay answered quickly, never more sure of himself. You felt the baby move around, and you moved Klay's hand so he could feel the baby gently kick against you.

"Your family, baby, your son, needs to see you give your all. You are one of the best shooters in the game, and no matter how many times you have to build yourself back up, your family will be right there supporting you." Klay placed a gentle kiss on your lips, your touch lingering as he gave you a few more pecks. "Thank you, babe. I love you."

"I love you too, Klay. So much." The two of you settled in against the pillows, Klay draping a blanket over your legs.

"I thought you weren't sure it was a boy?" Klay teased, his voice low and quiet.

"I don't know," you giggled, "I'm starting to believe in the Thompson bump."

#klay thompson #klay thompon x reader #klay thompson fan fiction #klay thompson imagine #nba fan fiction

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lazybutsmexy · 1 year

Text

Rotten Apple

Ghost x fem!Reader (Canary) x Soap

A/N: This is set after the events in Bird Hunting, but is mostly centered around Canary (here [Name] due to her being in a civilian setting) and her parents. Just a lil' bit of lore for BH fans :)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, referenced past child neglect, narcissistic/abusive parents.

Summary: Sweetened apples turn sour when rotten apples are around.

Word count: 2100~

“...Yae think we should’ve brought a leash?” Johnny pondered, and Simon had no choice but to consider his opinion for the next time they went to the farmers’ market with [Name]. Only ten minutes had passed from the moment they arrived, and it only took her catching a whiff of sweetened apples for her to zoom away into the crowd.

And it was crowded today, with a congregation of people, alone, in couples, or entire families that had decided to brave the unusually sunny weather to stock up on organically harvested seasonal fruits and vegetables, animal products, and other produce made by the same people that sold them in cute little stands.

[Name] absolutely loved the farmers’ market - Simon wasn’t that keen on crowds, but both him and Johnny were easily swayed by her excitement. The initial plan was for them to stock up on groceries before spending a long-awaited long weekend at Johnny’s cabin in the north. But now she had disappeared to who-knows-where.

Her stealth had been an important skill during missions, but now it was a problem. Is this how their enemies felt, knowing that she was around there but being unable to find her?, Simon thought, his eyes scanning the crowd from above - luckily, there weren't many people even close to his size.

“There!” Johnny exclaimed, and took off in a random direction. Simon was hot behind his heels, refusing to lose another one of his partners today. Both men had to struggle to part the crows around them without shoving them aside, and not tripping into distracted kids that wandered around their parents.

Finally, Simon saw her, but there was something off about her. He couldn’t quite place it before Johnny got to her, his hand brushing her arm.

“[Na-]! Oh, sorry,” Johnny quickly retracted his hand with a sheepish grin, “I thought you were my girlfriend, you look a lot like her.”

The girl eyed him up and down and quirked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, “That’s the most awful pick-up line I’ve heard,” she sneered at him, and Johnny couldn’t help but notice that she really looked eerily similar to [Name], from the color of her hair, the shape of her lips, to the scrunch on her nose when she looked at him in displeasure. “And by the way,” she continued dismissively, crossing her arms over her chest, “I already have a fiance, and you can’t afford me anyway.”

Both Simon and Johnny blinked at the woman, who was looking at both of them up and down. Johnny was getting rightfully annoyed at her choice of tone, and was about to turn around when she saw the woman’s face shift into surprise as her eye caught something behind them. “...[Name]?”

[Name] had been about to grab Simon’s shoulder, excited to show him her newly purchased jars of jams while munching away at a caramel apple, but the moment she noticed who was speaking to them, she turned around and shifted through the crowds again.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and she felt her lungs constrict against her ribs for oxygen. The soles of her feet stung - although her burns were healed, the new skin was still sensitive. She had lost her treat somewhere, but she paid it no mind, eager to find the exit, and wait for Johnny and Simon by the truck.

However, and she should already know this by heart, Lady luck sometimes is a bitch.

“...[Name]? Is that you?” The voice made her freeze on the spot, right outside the parking lot, and she felt like a child all over again as she slowly turned around, her eyes meeting her mother’s.

“...Hi, mom,” she sighed dejectedly, resigning herself to her fate as she saw her father turn around to face her, regarding her with an unimpressed stare, “Hi, dad.”

“Haven’t seen you in years, darling,” the woman spoke sweetly and smiled politely, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It never does when it’s for me, [Name] thought bitterly. It was no different than when she spoke to a stranger at the grocery store, definitely not how one would speak to a daughter.

“Have you finally come to your senses?” her father was less subtle, crossing his arms over his chest, “Are you finally coming back home?”

“Ah, no, I’m actually on medical leave,” she cleared her throat and straightened her back, finally remembering she was not a teenager anymore, “I have my own place, had it for a while now, actually.”

“Really now?” her mother cooed, “When are you going to get the rest of your stuff from home, then?”

[Name] blinked at her, tilting her head a little in confusion, “you told me you were getting rid of my things years ago, you said you were going to use my bedroom for an office for Trish or something.”

“Oh, we did repurpose your old bedroom, silly girl,” the woman laughed, then shrugged condescendingly, “what we couldn’t give away is in a couple of small boxes in the attic, mostly your childhood photos.” [Name] said nothing - she had already expected her parents to get rid of all traces of her the moment she joined the military, she was only mildly puzzled about them keeping anything. “I'm sure you’ll want those, at least.”

“...You don’t want them?” she asked, although she already had an inkling of what the answer would be.

“Well, it would be embarrassing to have people asking about you, you know?” her mother sighed, shaking her head, “What would we tell them? It was easier to pretend your sister was an only child.”

“You could tell them the truth,” [Name] retorted, and her father seemed to tense up at her answer.

“Tell people that we have a daughter who whores herself out for a living?” He grumbled, while her mother looked around to see if anyone heard, “what do they call them, barrack bunnies?”

[Name] bit her lip, her mind unhelpfully replaying the disastrous argument that resulted from her enlisting years prior. “I thought you didn’t care if I died, anyway.”

“But you’re alive, and you owe us,” her mother chastised, her pitch dropping a few tones, “we raised you-”

“Grandma and Grandpa raised me, you were too busy raising Trish.”

“We kept you fed and clothed even though you always rebelled against us,” her mother hissed, stepping closer, “you turned our family against us!”

“You did that yourself,” [Name] kept her voice down, calm, knowing from experience that getting herself fired up would only give them more power, “you’re the one who started pretending I didn’t exist when I turned ten, saying you wished Trish was your only daughter.”

Her mother huffed and turned her face away indignantly, “and I stand by that.”

“...I know, you find it easier to pretend I don’t exist than to check whether I’m alive or not.”

“We should’ve left you at the hospital when we had the chance.”

[Name] rolled her eyes at that. After so many years living away from her parents, the usual quips and threats from her mother hurt less than when she was a teenager. It was a small comfort, to know that she’d grown out of her parents' shadow. “Yeah, that wasn’t very smart of you-” she was stopped by a sound slap, her face turning from the impact. She slowly raised her hand to cup her stinging cheek, and eyed her father, whose hand was still raised.

“You will not speak to your mother in that manner, young lady,” he growled, and [Name] just blinked at him, unsure of how to react without getting herself arrested.

“And you will not raise your hand against my corporal again, unless you’re ready to lose it,” Simon’s voice was low, dangerously low, and it sent shivers down both [Name]’s and her parents’ spines, although for entirely different reasons. She glanced over her shoulder, finding herself eye-level with Simon’s chest. Johnny stood by his side with a severe expression in his face, one she had seldom seen before.

Her parents warily stepped back, taking in the two large men who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. “W-who are you?” Her father stammered - although he would later deny he did.

“Lieutenant Riley, and this is your last warning,” he grumbled, although he didn’t need to do anything else to intimidate them. They already looked as if they were trying to find somewhere to hide.

Knowing that her parents were - for once - the ones cowering in fear stirred a newfound sense of power in [Name]’s heart - what was it that Gaz called it? Ah, yeah, scary dog privilege. She found it easier to look at the people in front of them and realize that nothing had tied her to them for a long time.

The branches of the genealogy tree can also be snipped to one’s content, her Grandma had told her on her twelfth birthday, when she couldn’t grasp the concept of her parents choosing to celebrate one kid’s birthday and not the other’s.

She had found herself being dropped off at her Grandparents’ early in the morning, while her parents boasted about taking Trish to an amusement park for the day. Little [Name] was heartbroken, and had begged her mom to forgive her for whatever she had done to not deserve a birthday party. But alas, they were relentless, and a lot of screaming from her mom and a backhanded slap from her dad had broken her pleas and made her silent, just like many other times.

At that time, [Name] couldn’t grasp the meaning of her Grandma’s words, but now that she had grown up, and disappointment had settled in a long time ago, those words rang truer than ever in her mind.

Even when she was on the brink of death in the forest, seeing them again never crossed her mind, for she knew they wouldn’t care even to visit her grave.

Keep up with that attitude, and you will die alone, because no one will ever love you, her mother had told her at thirteen, when she started openly questioning the difference in treatment with her twin.

How wrong she was, she thought. She was far from alone, and she was very well loved. Although her Grandparents were long gone, she had Simon and Johnny right here with her, and Gaz was her chosen brother, and Price was a better father figure than the man in front of her had ever been.

“Burn those photos, for all I care,” she smiled at her mother. It was a calm, detached smile - a polite smile you give to a stranger at the grocery store, not to a parent. “Make it real, that I do not exist for you.”

And with that she turned around, tugging on Simon's long sleeve as discreetly as she could. Johnny did notice, however, and smirked to himself as he followed after them - Simon would’ve gladly squared up to those two for hours if needed, but he easily relented to her touch.

Simon opened the truck’s passenger door for [Name] and she sat in silence, still mulling over her thoughts. A warm hand rested on her knee and she looked up to see her favorite pair of blue eyes staring back at her. They looked at each other in silence - there was an unsaid question in his lips, but she could almost taste it.

“...Let’s go home, okay?” She whispered, her hand stroking his knuckles. He simply nodded and shut the door before climbing in himself. Johnny was already sitting behind her, his lips pressed in a pout as he caught her reflection on the side view mirror, staring out of the window at the pair of strangers that once held her heart in their hands.

After a few silent moments as they pulled out of the parking lot, Johnny reached over, presenting [Name] with a fresh candy apple with sprinkles on top. She took it from his fingers, chuckling to herself at how easy it was for them to draw a smile from here, even though her heart still stung a little.

"Thanks, love," she hummed, pressing a kiss to his wrist and knowing that Johnny was grinning proudly to himself. Simon's hand was warm on her thigh, a welcome weight that grounded her in the present.

She could grow her own tree, if she so wanted, with the people she loved the most.

A/N: poor bby Canary deserved better parents :(

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annasinterests · 8 months

Text

don't look at me like that unless you mean it

run in the shadows ♫ damn your love, damn your lies

|| series masterlist || main masterlist ||

a/n: hey hey heyyyyy my loves! been a minute but i'm super pumped (and scared) to be putting out this chapter, at first i really struggled in deciding which direction i wanted it to go, but am pretty content with how it turned out! this is also my first time ever writing smut so i am apologizing in advance for.. everything . also, i imagine joel smelling like tommy bahama maritime deep blue and 1 million cologne by paco rabanne, so that's referenced in here cuz honestly they're just soooo 🥵🤤 alright, enough outta me- love y'all, enjoy! <3

a/n update: y'all i'm so dumb i put this out like an hour ago and was wondering why it was so dead and then i saw i didn't put FUCKING. TAGS. bruv.

word count: 6.1k (woo baby!)

pairings: joel miller x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, implied hangover, reflection of bad decisions on readers part, cursing, denial is a river in egypt, mutual pining, smut!!!, fingering, lil sweet talk n' pet names, p in v, the slowburn is slowly burning folks — please tell me if i missed anything!

It wouldn’t be wrong to say that you were feeling some resentment towards the younger Miller for the recent days, and he certainly wasn’t making it any better by deliberately scheduling you two together on your first day back on.

Your name was scribbled in shitty writing next to his instead of.. well, you know who. You puffed out a frustrated sigh, biting your lip as you closed your eyes to quell the irritation that was already simmering during the early hour.

It was like a series of blows, one right after the other.

When you opened your eyes after Joel kissed you the other night, he was gone without a word. And if you hadn’t heard the click of his door closing again, you’d almost believe that the entire encounter was a product of your alcohol-laden imagination.

But it was real.

It was real in the way that it’d been the last thing you remembered before flopping into bed and the first regret you thought of the morning after. Throughout the hours that followed, the room seemed to stretch into eternity, spinning around you as you lay there, caught in a daze induced by alcohol, or maybe Joel, or perhaps the potent combination of both.

Morning found you sprawled atop the bed covers in the same clothes from the night before with a headache pounding at your temples, making you claw for a pillow to shield your face from the harsh sunlight filtering through the blinds. Even long after Joel’s awakening and departure for his shift, you remained ensconced in bed. The stillness of the house had been interrupted by the resonating thuds of his footsteps on the creaky wooden floors as he executed his routine; shuffling in his room for a bit, then descending downstairs to clank around some glasses and dishes, and then the forceful closure of the front door, ushering in silence once more.

Hours passed before you eventually emerged from your room, trudging downstairs to scrounge up sustenance from whatever you could find. The meager offerings weren’t the two proper meals that the day should’ve already seen, but they sufficed as something.

To say you felt like trash was an understatement, it plagued your body and mind. Playing Samson against Joel had been a risky move, one that was initially successful but terribly backfired into a mess, your moral compass lost in the haze of it all. Despite you drunkenly flirting, kissing, and saying misleading things, sober you knew none of it held true. You wouldn’t actually give any man the chance, unless it was him. Nonetheless, your actions tarnished your conscience, for you knew it probably meant something to someone.

Joel had remained an enigma. He was the one you saw first, he started it. He had the chance to leave with that woman, yet he didn’t, even after her provoking comment that made it sound like he was interested in doing so. No, instead, he glared at you like an enemy. And then after all the pointless arguing, he fucking kissed you, and then left you.

So, yeah, the entirety of the day was spent feeling dirty and wallowing in the aftermath of your own destruction.

And today wasn’t going much better by any means. So far, at least.

Brisk in your steps, you walked to the stables and gathered up your gear for the day, dread wrapping its tendrils around every aspect of your impending shift. Leading your horse to the gate, you impatiently awaited the arrival of the rest of the patrol group. You occupied yourself by tending to your horse’s coat and securing every strap and cord visible, performing thorough inspections on your packs to ensure supplies and ample ammunition for all your weapons.

Little by little, people started to show up, which somehow only triggered you to be even more impatient. You threw glances that served enough as a greeting to those that turned up, finding it best to just keep to yourself. Your veneer of detachment wavered momentarily as Samson arrived and gave you a smile that felt more obligatory than genuine as it failed to reach his eyes, and you quickly averted your attention back to your horse, cheeks burning as snippets from the night looped through your mind at the most inconvenient moment.

You’d been resolutely keeping your eyes lowered, so much so that you failed to register Joel’s arrival alongside Tommy. Only when Tommy’s voice sliced through the small talk did you raise your head, finally paying attention.

“Alright now, y’all know the drill. Eyes up, be safe. Don’t take no unnecessary risks an’ watch each other’s backs.”

His raised a finger and flicked his wrist, prompting the guards to swing open the gate, “Let’s go.”

Swiftly mounting your horse, you joined the procession, observing as they paired up and set off. You had only seen the back of Joel’s figure as he rode off with his partner, holding your gaze on them for a beat longer before steering off to your assigned route, gently guiding the reins as the steed surged to catch up. While you were definitely still annoyed with Tommy, you still maintained a civil demeanor, offering him a subtle nod when he smiled at you.

The well-trodden path stretched before you, one you’d traversed countless times. Your horse seemed to intuitively know the way, leaving you to drift into a distant reverie. Your gaze roved into the distance, resting on nothing in particular– a void for your thoughts to nestle within as the ambient sounds consumed your consciousness. Words remained dormant; your lips scarcely parted, your eyes keen yet affixed to the intangible.

From the moment Tommy laid eyes on you, he sensed something was amiss. His glances shifted from fleeting to lingering as he realized your mind journeyed elsewhere while being right next to him. It was as if you operated on autopilot, a description that aptly captured how you looked and felt. Uncharacteristically unsure of how to connect, he found himself at a loss.

Either way, there was a consequence to this. Conversation was inevitable, the topic destined to surface sooner or later, and in all likelihood, it would culminate in you reproaching him for not minding his business.

“Sure is quiet out here today. Not even a single bird chirpin’.”

A mumbled agreement left your mouth in response. A couple of minutes drifted by before he ventured forth again.

“Y’know, the other night, I-”

Your attention snapped into focus, and you shot him a pointed look, “I don’t want to talk about the other night.”

“Well then you don’t have to talk, just listen, then.”

Annoyance prickled at your nerves. You motioned toward him, your hand landing flat on your thigh while the other clenched around the leather reins, nails digging into the material. You didn’t care for what he had to say, but you recognized your protests would only be a futile endeavor as he’d find a way to voice his thoughts regardless.

“Look, I’m sorry about Samson-”

“Oh yeah? The part where he was the secret set up or..?”

A hand raked through his hair at your interjection, knowing where your line of questioning was heading. “All of it, okay? I didn’t know that you and Joel-”

“There is no me and Joel!” Your words were intensely curt.

Tommy may have been drunk, but there was no denying what he saw in those unguarded moments when you believed the other wasn’t looking. More importantly, what he saw when you did see each other.

Even in his inebriated state, he sought to mend his error by removing Samson from the overall equation with some bullshit excuse, hoping that somehow, someway, a connection would’ve rekindled between you both. However, his brother had a different course in mind, storming home and grumbling under his breath, justifying his abrupt exit to himself with the lateness of the hour and his imminent work commitments the following morning.

Your horses maintained a steady pace, the silence between you pronounced.

“If you say so.” Your words barely had a chance to emerge before he seized the opening, raising a hand to signal he wasn’t done.

“Listen, I know you and Joel got a history– a long one at that– and while I ain’t privy to all the particulars, I’ve got enough sense to know there’s somethin’ goin’ on.”

You shook your head, “Tommy-”

“It ain’t no secret that my brother ain’t the feely type,” he interrupted with a soft chuckle, “hell, m’sure you know that already, but when it comes to you, he’s just..”

His voice trailed as he looked straight on, leaving you to hang on every last word as your heart hammered in your chest. He’s just what?

It was like Tommy had heard your thoughts when he met your gaze again.

“It’s you, or it’s nobody.”

The sentiment left his mouth with ease, like it was just that simple, and you struggled to believe him.

Your mind casted back to the other night– the unhurried, gentle yet unwavering contact you shared just outside his bedroom door. His soft lips pressed against yours in a moment that felt far too short. The slight prickle of his beard against your skin, his fingers nestled in all the right nooks and contours and calloused hands cradling your face with a blend of care and intimacy that only comes from years of knowing.

It’s you, or it’s nobody.

Shaking your head slightly, you dismissed the memory in favor of the present.

“It’s.. not like that.”

You knew your counter was implausible, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to continue arguing. And either he’d gotten out all he wanted to say, or he saw the profound effect his words had on you and decided it was enough, because he didn’t say anything else regarding it.

He cleared his throat in a manner that was clear he was changing the topic, “Once we get up here to the post, I gotta have you switch off with Eugene, alright?”

You arched a brow at him, “Why? Afraid to be my partner for a whole shift?”

“Oh, real funny.” He rolled his eyes before setting them on you again with a more serious undertone, “Maybe.”

A smile appeared on your face for the first time today, though it was small, and he immediately grinned, taking pride in the small victory.

“No– Eugene’s got a lead on that one group, needa’ talk to him about it.”

Fuck.

Your small smile dropped slightly, masking it as an acknowledging reaction. Those documents demanded your attention as soon as possible.

“Fair enough.” You conceded, a hint of your customary demeanor returning to your voice.

The rest of the time getting to Mountain View Lodge passed relatively quickly. The rest of your patrol with Tommy was marked by a lull in conversation, as if a point of equilibrium had been reached after your earlier confrontation. Tethering your horse to its usual discreet and out-of-view spot, you both entered the lodge.

The interior sprawled expansively, its focal point a series of broad windows along a wall– a perfect vantage point for overseeing the valley below, which saw its fair share of infected and raiders. But when it was quiet, it transformed into an ideal haven for relaxation outside of Jackson, its timeworn leather booths circled around fireplaces that proved a comforting companion during the harsh winter months.

Eugene’s greeting garnered a nod and smile from you, and once he and Tommy dove into their own conversation, you dismissed it as unimportant background noise. Directing your attention to the log book, you flipped through its pages and skimmed the entries; straightforward accounts of patrols, punctuated occasionally by Joel or Tommy’s scrawls, often laced with lighthearted banter or aimed at other patrol members, most frequently Mike.

Hooking your thumb under the straps of your pack and sauntering over to the window, you gazed out at the ever-captivating landscape. The prospect of watching over the area for the remainder of the shift didn’t sound too bad. No need to engage in conversation, no pressure to keep an eye on anyone but yourself, and one big ole’ place all to yourself.

“Hey Joel, Tommy’s here, I’m about to head out!”

You spun around to face the two men. Eugene looked in the direction which he called out to, while Tommy’s attention seemed magnetically drawn to the floor, a practiced evasion that didn’t go unnoticed by you. His tendency to omit information from you had become an increasingly noticeable pattern.

Your initially piercing gaze softened into something resembling discomfort as Joel rounded the corner, his eyes locking onto yours. His brisk stride slowed, his posture straightening, and his mouth gaped though no words came out. His eyes remained fixed on you, an unanticipated presence that caught him off guard as much as it did you. His gaze lingered a beat longer before tearing away to address the others in the room who were silently observing the wordless interaction between you both.

Tommy had, once again, displayed his shrewdness; his strategic move to involve a third party designed to preempt your opposition. His plan worked as intended, leaving you limited to a dismissive wave as he and Eugene left, a collective wish for safety in the air. Notably, you caught Tommy’s apologetic smile directed at Joel.

The moment they were out the door, you slung your bag into the open booth and sank down heavily beside it, your back turned to Joel. You paid no mind to his heavy footsteps as you picked through your bag to extract a rag and withdrew your pistol from its holster, rubbing the cloth along the barrel to rid it of dirt and grime and using your fingernails for precision. This would only take so long, and you had a long fucking shift to get through.

The hours passed and not a word was shared. You found yourself cleaning your guns and knife twice over, the repetitive task barely doing anything to take your mind off the only other person in the room. You hadn’t moved from the booth, and he remained rooted wherever he’d taken position, the exact location unknown since you didn’t even look at him. An ache burned into your neck and lower back, and you could feel the blood clotting in your legs from the prolonged sitting. Between the pain, humidity, and his presence, the room felt suffocating, and you needed to get out.

“I’m gonna go take a lap.” Your voice monotone as you stowed your gear into their rightful places, leaving your pack in the booth as you stood and strode towards the door.

“Ain’t much out there.” Joel’s gaze tracked your movements, though you sidestepped looking directly at him, gliding past his seated form.

“Should be a quick one, then.” You countered.

“You know the rules, no roaming– especially alone.” His voice bore a note of warning.

You brushed his caution aside, your steps carrying you closer to the door. “You can keep an eye on me from up here, it’ll be–”

A large hand enclosed around your arm, effectively halting your stride. Your narked expression mirrored his own as you pivoted to face him, his hold firmly asserting itself.

“M’not gonna repeat myself.” His drawl low.

“Then don’t.” You threw the attitude right back in his face, yanking your arm free from his grasp and spinning around to grab the door handle. It had barely opened an inch before he slammed it shut with his palm, gluing his hand to the spot and standing over you.

“Move, Joel.”

“There ain’t no need to go-”

“Oh, fuck off, would you? Gonna fucking trap me in here with you and not say anything to me the whole goddamn time?” Your agitation flared as you stalked off, scanning around for any other opening to leave from– contemplating even heading upstairs just to put the distance between you two.

“Tell me how you really feel, why don’t you?” He goaded as his hand slid down the door and took a few steps in your direction.

“Yeah, like last time? Cause that worked like a real fuckin’ treat.” You scoffed, incredulity lacing your tone. You expected him to shake his head or be dismissive, but he just looked at you intently.

“I-”

“You kissed me, and then left me out to dry!” Your anger evolved into a sardonic grin, his guilt evident as he lowered his eyes. “So, unless that was your way of breaking my heart, then..”

Your voice died on the last word, reiterating the plea you shouted from the other side of the door that night before it happened, your hands falling heavy on your thighs after their emphatic gestures. Where your train of thought was going, you weren’t quite sure, but a palpable ache stirred in your chest and seeped through your entire being as his silence loomed, fearing that you just hit the nail on its head.

Maybe if you walked quick enough, you could slip out the door.

In a split-second decision, you decided to take the chance, the handle just in your reach before his hand wrapped around your arm again.

“Leave me al-”

He caged your body against the door with his own, his hands planted on each side of your head as his large frame towered over you, ducking his head down to capture your lips with own.

When he pulled back, his brown eyes were wide and lust-blown in supplication. His chest heaved with unsteady breaths, a telltale sign that he was teetering on the edge of control and moments away from losing it all. Your eyes raked over every facet that rendered him complete; every wrinkle, scar, and freckle that covered his skin that were once observed from a distance, now before you in sharp focus and transformed into a mosaic of perfection. His plump lips bore a fervent shade of pink, an irresistible invitation to meld your mouth against his once more. An intoxicating scent enveloped your senses, a harmonious dance of notes and undertones of woods and herbs, woven together with astonishing finesse that unveiled a new layer with every passing second.

You closed the distance with desperation to feel him everywhere, kisses becoming more aggressive and invasive, tongues swiping over lips and against each other in begging for more permission. Your fingers tangled in his hair to bring his face impossibly closer to yours, noses pressing into cheeks, and his hands trailing down to your ass and giving you a firm squeeze. You moaned into his mouth when his hard-on brushed your thigh through both your jeans, rolling your hips into him.

Your action pulled a pleasurable groan from his throat, making him cup your thighs and hoist you up to move you elsewhere, your legs wrapping around him instinctively. He placed you both behind the bar and sat you on the counter, moving his mouth down your neck to suck spots and soothe them with his tongue. His hands splayed across your thighs, fingers mere centimeters away from your burning core that you needed him to touch.

His fingers dug into the hips of your jeans as you were pressed chest-to-chest, hands still lost in his hair. Your mouths were hot on another again, teeth clanking and saliva trailing wherever his mouth was on you, “Joel, I-”

Your short sentence was cut even shorter by his thumb brushing just above your sensitive spot, making your body shutter from the sudden contact, a reaction he became acutely aware of. A smirk spread on his face when he pressed his thumb against your jeans and you rocked forward immediately.

Gently, he dragged up and down along the seam, pressing kisses to your jaw up to your ear as you squirmed under his touch, teasing you with his voice, “Y’like that, huh?”

You moaned at every touch, all of it more than you could have ever expected. It’d been years since being even remotely physical with someone, and now you had Joel, the last person you ever imagined to be with, all over you. It felt like a dream, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

His fingers undid your jeans and he pulled them down enough to get access to where you both wanted him, swiping his thumb over the dampness of your panties and letting out a shaky breath at just how wet you were for him. He wrapped a strong arm around your waist and slid you closer as he leaned you backwards with hot kisses, sneakily diverting your attention while he pulled your panties to the side and sunk a finger into you, your sounds of pleasure muffled against his mouth and your hands gripping his shoulders.

You writhed until you were on the edge, pressing your body into him and his one arm stabilizing you while the other was between your legs, pumping one finger, then two. Shamelessly, you rocked into his hand, bucking your hips when his thumb rubbed circles against your clit and letting out soft gasps.

“That’s it, c’mon– use me, use my fingers,” he coaxed as he watched you ascend to seventh heaven with your eyes screwed shut and your mouth agape, “cum for me, darlin’.”

You rocked faster into his hand as he did a blissful combination of pumping, curling, and rubbing, feeling the fiery tightness in your stomach about to snap. You dug your fingers into his back as you clung around him, his arm holding you steady as he finger-fucked you. Burying your face in his neck, you were met with the warm and rich aromatic spices that flooded your sense of smell again, making your lungs and head feel lighter; rosemary and juniper mingling seamlessly with hints of musk and leather. He felt and watched as you came undone by his doing, your body constricting and your pussy tightening around his fingers, wishing he could see your face as you came. He muttered sweet praises as you rode out your high, but you were barely able to hear them from the white noise that exploded in your ears.

You whimpered at his fingers leaving you, opening your eyes just in time as he brought you down and faced you the other way. A lazy grin spread across your face as you heard the sound of his belt coming off, knowing what was next.

He pressed his pelvis against your backside, his warmth a heavenly feeling on your bare skin. His head brushed at your bundle of nerves as he guided himself along your folds, slicking himself with your heat, the contact making you putty in his hands.

“F-fuck,” the hot, soft skin of his cock on your pussy drove you up a wall, “n-need to see it– see you.”

He nuzzled his nose just behind your ear, “One of us s’gotta keep watch.”

Fuck if he thought that you would be the one watching, how could you possibly focus on anything else but him right now?

And as if anyone or anything would be around. But if they did, man did they have a sight to stumble upon.

He lined himself up and cupped the base of your neck, using it to hold you in place and as leverage to sink into you. You both let out mangled moans as he pushed in, his grip tightening on the back of your neck as he went deeper. Breathy gasps and muddled curses left your mouth as your pussy stretched to his girth, overstimulated by his sheer size and how fucking good he felt inside you.

“God– You’re so- agh-” he grunted, “so fuckin’ tight.”

He pressed himself into your back and buried his face into your shoulder as he bottomed out, his mind spinning from simply sheathing his cock into you. His hands fell to your hips, the pads of his fingers digging into the plushness of them. And once he started off in agonizingly slow thrusts, you soon recognized it as a sweet pleasure that you’d never felt before, the sensation incredibly gratifying and making your nerves pleasantly hyperesthetic. It made you weak in the knees, yet you pressed your ass against him to greedily beg for more.

He gradually picked up the pace, flesh smacking against flesh. You arched your back to give him better access, his body attuned to yours and adjusting accordingly. With every thrust, you jolted forward with airy breaths leaving you slackened jaw, feeling high off his touch, but you wanted more. Being that you were standing and he was behind you, it gave you barely any power to move how you wanted to, the pace and power solely in his hands.

“F-faster, Joel.” You managed to stammer out.

He purposely slowed down, craning his head to press lips against your ear, “What’s that, darlin?”

You whined at the stillness, trying to keep the motion going but miserably failing. His low chuckle made you want to cry, your whole body flushing in a frazzled hot sweat from the game he was trying to play.

“Use ‘em words, tell me what y’need.” He could get you to come from speaking to you like that, period. You whined even more when he teased his head in and out of your hole. “C’mon sweetheart–”

“You! Need you! Fa-” You cried out as he buried himself deep in you to the point his cock was vibrating from straining so hard, making you clench down on him and hearing a satisfied grunt from behind you.

“Good girl.”

He had you mewling as he drilled into you, fucking you into oblivion with his nasty acts. The sound of your skin wetly smacking had been the loudest in the room, followed by your blended grunts and gasps, his ragged breaths the most delicious sound you’d ever heard. Your heat was dripping down your thigh and pooling at the base of his cock, a divine sight that further fueled his sin. He snaked one hand down to your clit and rubbed fast circles, the tightness in your stomach rapidly coiling up again and forcing you to grip the edge of the counter.

“Such a good girl f’me.. to me.”

The sound of his praises and the squelching of fluids was quickly bringing you to your second high. You lacked the ability to turn over your shoulder to look at him, “Joel, I’m gonna-ah!– Gonna-”

Your mouth hung open as you threw your head back, his thrusts growing erratic and free hand hurrying up and under your bra to take your hardened nipple into his thumb and forefinger, pinching and rolling it between his fingers. In a matter of seconds, you were crumbling under his touch all over again by all the different and pleasurable sensations, your vision blurring and hot white ripping through your body. Your voice was lost in Joel’s, his pumps sloppy but still snapping hard into you.

“Fuck, darlin’, so fuckin’ pretty like this,” his head buried into your neck and shoulders, “got you– hah– got you all over my cock, givin’ you what he couldn’t.” Even through riding out your high a second time, your eyes widened at the subtle confession of jealousy. “Mine– always been–”

Quickly, he pulled out and spent himself away from you, leaning into your body and wrapping an arm around your waist as he shuddered through his orgasm with husky grunts. Your head hung as you braced yourself against the counter to act as a pillar for him, the adrenaline draining from your body as clarity took the place of it. He tucked himself away before retracting entirely from you to lean against the opposing counter, but not without pulling your panties and jeans up in a lazily swift motion first.

The room settled into a hushed stillness, interrupted by the labored breaths that punctuated the space as you both sought to regain your composure. You could feel your shirt sticking to your back, surely a trail of dappled sweat soaked through and down your spine that Joel could see as your back was still turned to him. The lack of light in the room indicated that nightfall was on your heels, meaning that it was past due the time you should’ve left to start back to Jackson, but you couldn’t find it in you to care about that right now.

Just two days ago, he kissed you and left without any kind of closure. And now, he’d just fucked you, twice.

With a gentle touch, he pivoted you around by your hip until you faced him, looking at each other with half-lidded eyes, yet it seemed that he had already bounced back quicker than you had. Even without proper lighting, the sheen of sweat visibly glistened on his forehead, tiny droplets matting down strands of hair around the frame of his face.

“Should get goin’.” He didn’t look at you as he delicately zipped up and buttoned your jeans, a task you were gathering the energy to accomplish on your own.

You nodded, silently acknowledging him, but more stunned by the act. Without further exchange, he retreated from you to grab his bag and headed outside.

Again, you were left alone with no kind of explanation of what the hell just happened, albeit in a much bigger, quieter, and darker space this time.

Your head was fucked. On and off. Hot and cold. Moments of potential followed by abrupt deflation.

What is happening?

Through the expanse of windows, the moon’s emergence over a distant peak caught your eye, a silent reminder of the advancing hour, urging you to gather your own things to get a move on.

You were definitely late now.

The walk home from the stables was quiet aside from the buzzing of insects. Walking in tandem, you barely looked in the other’s direction, though your thoughts were screaming about him. Every house you passed had their lights out and curtains drawn, a clear sign of the curfew set in place that you both were breaking right now, and how suspicious it’d look to anyone if they caught you. If you were lucky, Tommy would sweep it under the rug– maybe– but a greater concern lay in Maria finding out.

The glow of your own house’s lights struck you only upon crossing the threshold, a worried Ellie instantly appearing in the foyer– another person you forgot to consider answering to for your poor punctuality.

“Where have you guys been?”

You never thought you’d be on the receiving end of this situation, an unforseen shift that left you feeling unusually juvenile.

“We-uh..”

“..Had some stuff-”

“Had to go and-”

“Took care of it.”

Your faltering excuses had Ellie looking more confused than ever, her brows furrowing and scrunching in rapid succession as she attempted to parse both your disjointed words. It probably didn’t help that you were both disheveled and sticky with sweat while you muttered out words, though you could’ve played that off for the heat.

“Got caught up with some infected,” Joel looked over at you for the first time since the lodge, and you noticed the faintest blush gracing his cheeks, “threw us off on the way back, that’s all.”

You held your breath as Ellie continued to look at you funny even as you nodded to Joel’s lie. She was still skeptical, but ultimately let it go. “Well, I’m glad you guys made it back safe,” she eased her stance, “I was about to go knocking at Uncle Tommy’s.”

What a shitshow that would’ve been.

“Sorry to keep you waitin’, kiddo,” Joel crouched down, deftly undoing the laces of his boots and slipping them off, “why don’t you go get some rest now?”

“Read my mind.” A yawn accompanied her acknowledgement of the suggestion. She shifted her weight back on her heel, briefly looking you both up and down, “I’d give you guys a hug, but you seem kinda..”

“Goodnight, kiddo!”

“Go to bed already!”

Chuckles rippled through the room in the light moment, relief settling over you that your appearance was received how you were hoping it was. A small, contented smile remained on your lips even after she left, always having the ability to leave the room just a little bit brighter than before.

You reached down to grab your boots only to find them gone as if they vanished into thin air, then noticing how they swayed in Joel’s grasp as he placed them in the cubby-hole in the laundry room. You stared at him, the act registering more than just the simple one it was– no, there was something underneath it.

Because first it was your jeans and underwear, and now it was your shoes.

He paused at the foot of the stairs, staring down at the first step and then towards you. He looked.. exhausted.. to say the least. Like he was thinking about everything and nothing all at once. Silence wrapped around the room, a palpable avoidance of it, though so much needed to be said.

“Did you wanna..”

Your eyebrows slightly raised. Is he about to..?

“Take a shower before bed?”

Oh. Right. Because you share a bathroom, and he probably wants to take one.

“Uh- yeah,” you blinked out of thought, “probably be good to do.”

He pursed his lips and gave an awkward nod as you brushed past him, skipping every other step to grab clothes from your room and rushed to clean yourself so that you weren’t imposing too much on his sleep.

It would’ve taken you less time if you hadn’t had such a mess to clean up between your legs, making a mental note to maybe have something on you next time, if there even was a next time.

While you dried your hair, you bunched up your dirty clothes into the shirt you’d worn, having planned to drop it in your own laundry basket. But when you saw his sitting in the space behind the door, something compelled you to drop yours in. He probably wouldn’t have noticed once he threw his clothes on top of yours, and it all had to get cleaned anyway, right?

When you opened the door, a lamp had been turned on and Joel sat in the chair closest to his turntable, though no music played. How long he’d been sitting there, you didn’t know, but after all, it was his room.

You leaned against the doorway while running your thumb over the towel in your hands, “Hope I didn’t take too long.”

He shook his head, but it was infused with a genuine sincereness, like you could’ve been in there for an hour and he wouldn’t have minded.

Things felt.. different, now.

Your attention shifted to an album positioned atop his pile and a small white square in his hands, and if you squinted, you were almost certain that it was the one you were thinking of. You gently inquired about the item you were sure to have seen before, “What’s that?”

His eyes peered up at you, registering a hint of surprise, “Uh.. picture Ellie took ‘while ago.”

“You keep a lot in there?” Joel’s movements stilled as he slid the polaroid back into the album sleeve.

Shit, too much.

“No, just this one.” He answered with candor as he placed the sleeve with the rest, “Haven’t found the right frame for it, yet.”

Now, you knew that it was definitely Joel in the picture, because why else would he have kept it? You now also garnered two more pieces of information: It was taken by Ellie, and it had to have been taken in Jackson. It was likely that he had divulged more than he probably wanted or intended to, so you didn’t press any further.

“Well,” you steered the conversation away from the subject, “thanks for letting me get a shower in.”

He nodded with his gaze trained on the floor as he turned to rummage through his drawers for clothes, taking it as your cue to finally get out. With meek steps, you crossed the room, getting one foot out the door before he called your name softly, catching yourself on the frame to look back at him.

“Just.. wanted to say goodnight.”

He seemed to wrestle with his emotions, and though his eyes struggled meeting yours directly, the attempt to connect was clear. The tension that held your expression in what felt like all day finally softened, but a familiar ache rested deep within you.

You wanted.. sleep, for one, but also answers– or was it closure?

Who even fucking knew? Because you surely didn’t, and Joel probably didn’t either. And trying to figure it all out in the span of the current moment was pointless, especially while you were still lingering in his doorway.

Whatever was happening, it wasn’t easy, and it was far from being over.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #annasmasterlist #annawrites

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pollenallergie · 1 year

Text

The Dunes | e.m.

A/N: Reposting this because I tweaked the ending a lil bit... hehe. Also, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” didn’t come out until 1979, so (realistically), you and Eddie would’ve been almost in high school by the time it came out and, therefore, would not have spent your whole childhood singing along to it. However, it’s my (midwestern) family’s road-trip anthem so I had to include it. Thank you @chainsawmunson for beta-reading this!!! Ily <3

Word Count: 6.0k

CW: Adult themes (cursing, smoking weed, etc.; however, nothing smutty happens nor is anything smutty discussed beyond a brief, undetailed mention! I tried to make this as ace friendly as possible, but please let me know if there's something I can do better next time, in that regard!!).

18+ only!!

mdni

“It’s this exit, right, bunny?” Eddie asks.

“Um,” you pause to look down at the map and then up at the road signs ahead. “Yeah, this one,” you confirm.

Eddie merges into the correct lane as he resumes his solo performance of Creeping Death, strumming his calloused thumbs along the worn leather of the steering wheel like it’s the strings of his beloved guitar.

“How close are we now, bug?” Eddie asks.

You check the map before replying, “54-ish miles.”

Eddie huffs out a brief chuckle, “Ish?”

“Yeah, it could be 53 or 54, but it’s definitely not more than 55,” you explain while grinning cheekily.

“Dude, you’re a horrible navigator,” Eddie teases.

“Hey, I told you we should’ve brought the guys with us,” you say defensively, though there’s no real bite behind your words.

“This is probably gonna be our last vacation together, bug, so excuse me for wanting to spend some one-on-one time with my favorite person in all of Indiana,” Eddie remarks dryly.

“Oh, I didn’t realize Roxanne had finally moved to Chicago,” you tease, referencing the bartender from the Hideout that you suspect he’s had the hots for since Corroded Coffin first started playing there last fall. Not that you’d blame him for being attracted to her; she’s everyone’s type. Roxy may very well be ten years your senior, but she looks like she hopped straight out of the pages of one of Eddie’s Heavy Metal magazines; as a bottle blonde with tan skin, long, slender legs, heaving breasts, and an affinity for red leather, she’s the very definition of the beauty standard.

Eddie rolls his eyes and reaches across the console to gently shove your shoulder as he grumbles, “Shut up.”

You giggle at his response, but the joyous sound dies in your throat when you remember something Eddie had said previously.

“Grub, why would this be our last vacation together?” You ask curiously.

“Because, Jitterbug,” he sighs before continuing, “in a couple of weeks, you’ll be off in Michigan, meeting all sorts of cool people who are into all the same stuff as you, and you’ll forget all about little ole me,” Eddie explains, feigning lightheartedness as he does so.

“Eddie-” You begin to refute his assumptions, but he soon interrupts.

“Bunny, it’s fine, really. I mean, we always knew this was gonna happen; you’d go off to some amazing university after high school, and, for one reason or another, I’d have to stay behind in Hawkins. I just wanna soak up the last little bit of time we have together, okay?”

“Eddie,” you sigh, moving your hand to rest on Eddie’s thigh, only to immediately remove it when you feel his muscles tense underneath your palm. “Eddie,” you start again, this time without the physical contact, “you’re an idiot if you think that moving a couple hundred miles away is really gonna be enough to make me forget about you. Seriously, I can’t even go a week without talking to you. What do you think I’ve been saving up all that change in my piggy bank for? It’s so I have enough quarters to call your dumbass while I’m away at school,” you reassure him while also teasing him a bit to lighten the mood.

“And here I thought you were saving up to win me that stuffed elephant from the claw machine at Benny’s,” Eddie jests, and you snort at the thought.

“That thing’s been in there since we were ten, otter. I don’t think winning it is even possible,” You reply. Eddie’s heart flutters fondly at your childhood petname for him, one that even predates Grub, inspired by the time you’d watched a seven-year-old Eddie consume a dozen Otterpops one hot July afternoon.

Eddie grins, “Maybe not for you; you suck at claw machines.”

You scoff, “Dick.”

“I know you are, but what am I?” Eddie responds immaturely while the both of you fight off matching amused smirks.

Eddie covertly glances at you out of the corner of his eyes, a bittersweet feeling stirring in his chest. He misses you already, and you haven’t even left yet. Pathetic, he thinks.

Soon enough, the next track on Eddie’s road trip mixtape begins to play, and a grin lights up your features as the sound of Charlie Daniels’s voice fills the entire van.

Eddie begins to sing along to The Devil Went Down to Georgia, the song the two of you had spent the better half of your childhoods singing along to, thanks to Wayne. And just like that, any and all thoughts of your impending departure are gone.

Just a little under an hour later, the two of you arrive at Dunewood. After an essential stop at the campground’s convenience store for some ice cream sandwiches, you’re ready to set up camp. You and Eddie have come here every summer since you were small, but it’s different this time. This time, it’s just you and Eddie, as Wayne couldn’t come along due to a busy schedule at work. Getting up here was quite a feat given that Beverly Shores is quite a ways away from Hawkins and that, between the two of you, you guys have absolutely zero sense of direction once you get out of Hawkins. However, unpacking your equipment and setting up camp should be a breeze, as you both have prior experience with setting all of this crap up, thanks to the fact that Wayne always made the two of you help him set up camp.

Although, what should be the case and what actually is the case, apparently, aren’t always aligned.

“Dude, are you helping me or what?” You huff out frustratedly as you attempt to haul the packed-away tent out of the back of Eddie’s van on your own. Meanwhile, your less-than-helpful best friend is reclining in the front seat, still munching away on his melting ice cream sandwich. The sticky sweet ice cream is dripping down onto his beloved Black Sabbath band tee, making a mess in a way that might be goofily adorable if he were a toddler, but, alas, he’s a man, a messy man, but a man nonetheless.

“Mhm, yeah, I’ll be there in a second,” he replies nonchalantly before turning up the radio’s volume as if attempting to drown out the sounds of your complaining with Rob Halford’s eerie growls. He begins to headbang to the rowdy music, further solidifying that he will not get out of the van to help you anytime soon.

You groan exasperatedly as you lug the heavy tent closer to the stone fire pit while managing to keep it a reasonable distance from where a hearty fire will rage on later in the night. As you squat down to unzip the bag the tent is kept in for storage, you unknowingly bless your dear best friend with a marvelous view of your denim-clad ass, the fat there causing the fabric to strain to the point where it looks as if your favorite pair of jean shorts may rip right along the tight seam.

As he finishes off the last of his ice cream sandwich, Eddie resists the urge to continue ogling you, instead averting his gaze and opting to focus all of his attention on staring aimlessly out the windshield of his van while thinking about truly horrid shit in an attempt to prevent a tent of his own from forming in his jeans. Fortunately, that tried and true strategy never fails him. Unfortunately, it does require him to think about the time he had to dissect a fetal pig in junior-year biology; if Eddie thinks about it for too long, he swears he can still smell the formaldehyde along with the scent of his lab partner’s raging B.O.

Once Eddie’s reigned his inner horndog back in, he turns the key in the van’s ignition, fully turning off the vehicle, before climbing out of the driver’s seat to finally offer you some help with setting up camp.

“Alright, alright,” Eddie huffs humorously, “Give that to me before you break it,” he teases, referring to the poles of the tent that you’re trying to snap together. You briefly pause your attempts to glare at him.

“I’m not gonna break it, asshole,” you reply bitterly before finally managing to snap the pieces together. Once you do so, you look up at Eddie and fix him with a victorious grin.

“Why don’t you start the fire so we can eat dinner when we finish setting up all this stuff?” You suggest before fixing your friend with a mischievous smile and continuing, “Leave the hard stuff to the men, sugar.”

Eddie scoffs at your teasing but heeds your request nonetheless, going to fetch the firewood your dad had reluctantly given him, some logs cut from the unfortunate trees that weren’t good enough to sell at the farm this past Christmas season.

“Leave the hard stuff to the men, sugar,” he mumbles in a silly tone, clearly mocking you as he grabs a couple of logs from the van, causing you to cackle. Eddie scowls and blushes, mildly embarrassed as he wasn’t aware that you could hear his mockery from your spot across the campsite. The expression on his face only makes you laugh harder, and you don’t stop until Eddie gets petulant and throws one of the towels he’d brought for the beach at you.

After that playful spat, you both fall into a comfortable silence, too concentrated on your respective tasks to hold a conversation with each other. It isn’t until Eddie has successfully set up the fire and starts getting the food you’d both prepared ahead of time out that either one of you speaks again.

“Hey, Grub?” You call out to him from your spot near the still partially unassembled tent. Eddie responds with a soft hum as he continues to rifle through the cooler he’d filled with food and drinks.

“Don’t put the food on yet. The tent’s still not ready yet,” you inform him.

Eddie then shuts the cooler with an annoyed huff, leaving the food inside the chilled box as he comes over to join you.

“It would be if you would’ve just let me take care of it,” he nags as he squats down to help you finish setting up the tent.

You scoff, “Yeah, right, it would’ve taken you twice the amount of time just to figure out how to put this shit together simply because you refuse to read instruction manuals.”

“Incorrect,” Eddie defends himself, “it would’ve taken me half the time to put this shit together because I wouldn’t have wasted so much time reading the pointless instructions.”

“Says the man who just put our rainfly on before the tent body,” you tease as you stand up and strip the bright blue fabric off the tent.

“Does it really matter what order we put this shit on? I mean, so long as it’s on there, we’re good, right?” Eddie asks, standing up with his hands on his hips as he assesses the situation, discerning what’s left to do. The shit-eating grin on his face tells you he’s not being serious and is just trying to rile you up by being intentionally obtuse. So, rather than dignify his question with an answer, you simply fix him with an annoyed glare and then attempt to put the tent body on by yourself. Eddie chuckles at your terse expression as he begins to help you.

Finally, a few moments later, the two of you have set up your tent, leaving you to put your sleeping bags and pillows inside and set up the chairs near the fire as Eddie gets to work on cooking up a couple of foil burgers over the fire; a Munson family recipe and camping essential that’s really nothing more than a beef patty resting on top of a bed of potatoes and a few veggies inside a tinfoil cocoon.

You still remember the first time you’d had such a delicacy during your first camping trip with the Munsons. You were absolutely ravenous, having just got back to camp with Wayne and Eddie after spending all day at the beach, your hair still wet from swimming around in the chilly waters of Lake Michigan and the baby tooth you’d lost while wrestling around in the sand with Eddie nestled in the patch pocket of Wayne’s flannel. As a result of your profound hunger, the easy dinner Wayne had prepared for the three of you tasted like the single greatest thing you’d ever eaten in all your eight years of life. Although, even now, when you finally bite into your burger after Eddie gets done making them, hungry but not at all starving thanks to the sweet treat you’d wolfed down earlier, that simple dish still tastes like one of the most delicious things you’ve ever eaten, the gooey cheese coating your tongue as you munch away happily.

As for Eddie, he seems to agree about the delectableness of the foil burgers if the moan he emits as he bites into his burger is any indication. You giggle at the sound, feeling your cheeks heat up all the while. Always so dramatic, you think fondly.

“We’ve really outdone ourselves this time, bug,” Eddie declares. You hum your agreement as you bite into a crispy chunk of potato.

“The dried rosemary was a good touch. Where’d you get that anyways?” You ask him once you’ve swallowed your bite of starchy goodness.

He grins around his mouthful of food, “Stole a jar of it from the pantry at Gareth’s place after I got done fixin’ the kitchen sink for his mom yesterday.”

“Eddie!” You scold him.

“What? I’ll bring it back Saturday when we have band practice. Lorraine’ll never even know it was missing,” he reasons.

You simply shake your head at him disapprovingly while trying to fight off an amused smile, “You’ve gotta get those sticky fingers in check, Grub.”

Later in the night, as you both lounge in your tent, sharing a joint to help you relax before you go to sleep, your mind races with fretful thoughts about going to college in a few weeks.

“Eds,” you softly call out from just beside him, your head resting on his shoulder and his on yours as you lay with your bodies extended in opposite directions.

“Yeah, bug?”

“No one’s ever- I haven’t had my first kiss yet,” you confess, your inhibitions lowered as the high sets in.

Eddie snorts a laugh, amused by your randomness rather than your inexperience, “Yeah, I know, Jitterbug.”

“What if I meet someone at school, and they kiss me?” You worry aloud. Eddie’s chest tightens at the thought, but he does his best to ignore it.

“Then you’ll have your first kiss, duh,” he remarks simply as if the mere thought of you kissing someone - anyone - but him doesn’t make him want to cry and hurl simultaneously.

“Yeah, I know, but what if it’s bad because… because I don’t know what I’m doing?” You ask, after rolling over to look into his doe eyes, your face hovering above his as your arms hold you up above him. Your breath smells like Kraft singles and Skunk #1, but Eddie can’t find it in himself to care; he’s just happy to have you so close to him.

“First kisses are usually bad, silly billy,” Eddie giggles, the powers of the Dutch strain making him giddy even though his heart is aching just from hearing you talk about this shit.

“But I don’t want mine to be bad,” you reply, your tone bordering on petulant as your brows furrow and your lips pout just slightly, “what if the guy I’m with gets weirded out by how bad I am at it and like never speaks to me ever again?”

“Then that’s his loss, Jitterbug,” Eddie says without missing a beat.

You sigh and sit up, shoulders hunching in slightly as you pout.

“God, what if he does the opposite and tries to, you know, touch me?” You ponder, unintentionally breaking your best friend’s heart. Eddie’s sure that the knowledge of anyone but him touching you like that would devastate him.

“If- if that’s not something you’d be comfortable with, then just tell him,” he reasons.

“But what if he doesn’t listen to me? My sister says that sometimes guys don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” you reply, and Eddie’s jaw clenches at the thought.

“Then I’ll kill him,” Eddie replies genuinely, causing you to burst into a fit of giggles.

“Grub, you can’t even kill the spider that’s been camped out in your room for the past two weeks,” you tease, and Eddie frowns in response.

“That’s different. Guillermo and I have come to a mutual understanding, he kills the flies, and I don’t kill him,” Eddie replies defensively, and your giggles increase tenfold upon finding out that he’s named the damn thing.

“You’re adorable, Eddie Bear,” You remark once your giggles have ceased. As you wipe the tears of amusement out of your eyes, you miss the blush that rises to Eddie’s cheeks.

“Shut up,” he grumbles as he hands you the joint. You accept it gracefully as you take a hit, exhale, and then take another. Meanwhile, Eddie’s mesmerized by the sight of your lips wrapping around the joint, as if it’s a sight he hasn’t seen hundreds of times already. He’s immediately snapped out of his trance when you hand the joint back to him, your fingers brushing against his as you hand it over, still holding in the last puff you’ve taken.

As you finally exhale your last hit, a brilliant idea comes to mind, or at least one that seems clever in your current state.

“You should be my first kiss,” you suggest, making Eddie choke on the puff of smoke he’s just inhaled.

“What? Me?” Eddie asks incredulously in between bouts of coughing.

“Yeah, if you’re cool with it,” you respond nonchalantly as you grab the joint from him.

“No, no, no, I think you’ve had enough for tonight, space cadet,” Eddie remarks as he plucks the joint from between your fingertips.

“How do you feel, bug?” Eddie had asked you the first time you got high.

“‘M so high, I think I could touch the stars up here,” you’d groaned, making Eddie chuckle.

“Don’t worry, space cadet, I’ll be your ground control,” he’d reassured you.

You whine, “Eddie, I’m not even that high.”

“Of course, you’re not,” Eddie replies sarcastically as he stubs out the joint, opting to save the rest for tomorrow morning.

“Eddie, it’s okay if you don’t want to,” you say as you timidly pick at the loose threads of your sleeping bag, “kiss me, I mean. It’s okay if you don’t wanna kiss me,” you clarify.

Eddie sighs, knowing you’re not gonna let this go very easily. His mind races with thoughts of you kissing him, and his heart lurches at the idea that you’d even want to kiss him, but he also knows it’s too good to be true. You don’t actually want this, at least not with him; you’re just high and lonely. You’re too amazing and angelic; you could never want a freak like him, not in the same way he wants you.

“How about you ask me again in the morning, okay?” Eddie offers placatingly as he climbs into his sleeping bag, saying anything he can to get you to drop this, to stop torturing him.

Eddie’s not leaving any room for argument as he rolls over to face the opposite direction before shutting off the lantern. You sigh before climbing into your own sleeping bag and getting comfy.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whisper tentatively, worrying that you’ve upset him.

“Goodnight, bunny.”

The following day is awkward, to say the least. The fresh air the wooded campground provides is nice, or it would be if it wasn’t filled with unbearable tension thanks to last night’s events.

Eddie won’t even look at you, hasn’t spared you so much as a single glance since the two of you first woke up at around 9 a.m., nearly two hours ago. Granted, he’s not being outwardly hostile or anything like that. Instead, Eddie just won’t look at you, won’t speak to you in more than short sentences and noncommittal hums, and hasn’t touched you at all since last night when his fingers brushed yours as you exchanged the shared joint repeatedly. Usually, he would’ve talked your ear off about some new music by now, most likely the new Metallica album, or even about the latest drama plaguing the Hellfire club; surprisingly, a lot of juicy gossip comes out of that group. If the present circumstances were normal, Eddie also would’ve definitely exploited the many unintentional openings you’d given him this morning by tackling you to the ground or putting you in a half-nelson by now. However, he hasn’t done either of those things and, if his tense body language is anything to go off of, you figure he probably won’t be doing any of those things any time soon. How strange is it that you’ve begun to miss how Eddie playfully wrestles with and pesters you? How pathetic is it that you’ve started to yearn for how he carelessly flings you around like a ragdoll in an ornery display of his shocking strength?

“What time are we heading to the beach?” You ask meekly as you continue to pick at the Zingers Eddie had gotten you from the campground’s convenience store earlier this morning. At least he’d still gone out of his way to get your favorite breakfast-adjacent junk food. That had to be a good sign, right?

“Dunno,” he replies gruffly and then shrugs his shoulders as he takes another puff of his cigarette, his gaze still fixed on the sparse grass beneath his Reeboks.

“Maybe we could head out there in like an hour?” You suggest, your tone still timid and unsure, “That way, we could grab lunch on the way there. I just- I don’t think three Zingers will hold me over for the rest of the day. Not that I don’t appreciate that you got them for me, because I do! It’s just-”

Eddie cuts you off with another short, gruff response, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

You frown at his dismissive tone. Had you really pushed things too far last night? Was the idea of kissing you so bad that even the mere suggestion of it had gotten Eddie this upset?

When you first woke up this morning, you were mortified by the memory of what you’d said to your friend last night. Now, his sudden indifference toward you only amplifies that feeling of humiliation.

This is only day two of what’s supposed to be a week-long trip, and you’re not sure if you can survive several more days of this trip, not if things will continue being this tense between you and Eddie. So, you decide to repress your shame in favor of making peace. After all, only a couple weeks after you get home from this trip, your dad will drive you up to Ann Arbor to move into your new dorm room for your first semester at college. You’re unsure if your friendship with Eddie could survive the distance, not with this lingering hostility creating such a harsh divide between you two.

“Look, Eds,” you sigh, swallowing down what’s left of your pride as you prepare to grovel, to plead for your friendship to remain unchanged after last night’s blunder, “I’m sorry about last night, about asking you to… to kiss me. I mean- fuck- Grub, I’m really sorry for bringing it up and making shit weird between us. I promise I’m not, like, harboring some freakish little crush on you or anything like that. I just- I wanted you to be my first kiss because,” you pause with a quivering sigh, thinking better of your impending confession, “You know what? That doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that I’m sorry, really fucking sorry, and I just wanna go back to the way things were before I said any of that stupid crap, okay? I just wanna enjoy our trip. I wanna have fun doing moronic bullshit in the woods with my best friend, the same way we always do every summer. Do you think we can do that? That we can just go back to the way things were? Please?”

Eddie sighs, dragging the palm of his hand harshly down his face until it reaches his jaw, where it then remains, kneading the muscles there as if to relieve the tension. His soulful brown eyes flicker up to meet yours just briefly before his gaze falls back to the ground. He finally breaks the silence, quietly asking, “Why me? Why d’ya wanna kiss me?”

The question catches you off guard, so much so that you almost think you’d misheard him when he asked it. You can only think to reply with a surprised, breathy, “What?”

“Why did you want to kiss me, bug?” Eddie reiterates.

Your brows furrow, your nose scrunching up as you ponder and carefully plan your reply, not wanting to give too much away, wanting to keep your cards clutched close to your chest. You finally come up with an honest response and, most importantly, one that omits some of the more embarrassing details. You tug on the inside of your lower lip with your teeth, wriggling the flesh between your incisors, working up the courage to answer his question before sighing and eventually replying, “Because I trust you, Eddie. Because I know you won’t take things too far or do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

Eddie’s leg bounces as he considers your answer. “That’s all?” He asks suddenly, once again catching you off guard.

“Wha- What d’you mean?” You curiously inquire, wearing your confusion plainly on your features.

“That’s it? That’s the only reason why?” Eddie questions, his gaze intense, alight with an emotion you can’t place.

“I mean,” you trail off, your leg bouncing in tandem with Eddie’s, though not intentionally. “Yeah, kind of,” you lie.

Unfortunately, Eddie still doesn’t look entirely convinced, and that makes you nervous. You huff out frustratedly, wringing your hands together and carefully thinking over your words before speaking.

“Grub, I’m 18 years old, and I’ve never once in my whole life kissed someone, so, yeah, at this point, I’m pretty fucking desperate. Hell, I think I’d kiss just about anyone,” you ramble, slightly exasperated.

I think I’d kiss just about anyone.

You don’t mean it as an insult, you don’t mean to hurt Eddie’s feelings, he knows you don’t, but it still stings something fierce.

“Look, Eds, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, so if you’re not-”

Eddie interrupts you, not that he’s truly listening to how you’re trying, in vain, to walk back your previous statements anyways. No, Eddie’s too busy thinking about if he is actually going to go through with this. He bluntly asks, “Just one kiss?”

Those three words halt you in your tracks, making your breath hitch. You miraculously manage to collect yourself and come up with a coherent response.

“Yeah,” you reply in a tone that’s gentle and airy, soft and breathy like a sigh, “just one.”

“I’ll do it,” Eddie swiftly asserts, taking you both by surprise. “I mean, um, I’ll- I’ll help you, but you gotta promise me something first, ’kay?”

“Yeah, yeah, anything, Grub, of course,” you agree far too eagerly, making a swirling mass of embarrassment sink down heavily into the pit of your stomach. All the while, your voice is still soft and quiet, nothing more than a susurration.

“You gotta promise me you won’t let this change things between us, bug. Okay? I can’t lose-” Eddie cuts himself off with a shaky, anxious exhale, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as he attempts to reign in his emotions. He wants to tell you that if he ever lost you again, like he did in the summer of 1980, he wouldn’t be able to survive it; Eddie’s not really sure how he survived it last time. However, Eddie’s too afraid to tell you that, too scared of what that implies, and infinitely more scared of how you’d react to that implication. So, he drops his hands from his face, opting to pick at his nail beds to keep his fidgety fingers busy, as he continues, “I’m just helping you out, alright? So, just- You gotta promise that you won’t start acting all weird around me or, um, start avoiding me again, or whatever.”

You frown at the sentiment, briefly looking back on those two years you’d spent without Eddie in high school. You were an idiot back then, avoiding the one person, the only one of your peers, who’d ever shown you genuine kindness, just because he’d gotten a little mean and said some things that had hurt your feelings during a heated exchange, what’s worse is they were things you’d desperately needed to hear. You gently shake your head as if to rid yourself of any and all memories of that lonely time in your life before looking into Eddie’s eyes and earnestly swearing, “I won’t, Grub. Nothing will change between us, I promise.”

Things truly won’t change between the two of you; you’ll make sure of that. Eddie will never find out about the love you pathetically harbor for him, and, most importantly, you’ll never shut him out again. Even when he settles down one day with someone who isn’t you, maybe marries them and has a couple kids with them, you’ll still be his best friend, no matter how much it hurts, and you’ll make damn sure that Eddie never finds out how much it hurts you.

Eddie can hear the unwavering sincerity in your voice, can see it in your gaze, and it makes him smile softly, a warm expression you cannot help but reciprocate.

“Okay,” he breathes, his tone wavering as he rubs his sweaty palms on the rough denim of his jeans. “Just, um, c’mere… If you want to, I mean,” he stammers awkwardly. You’d probably chuckle at his apparent nervousness if you weren’t feeling the same way right now. Instead, you simply get up out of your lawn chair, rise to your feet, and trek across the short distance between the two of you. You then lower yourself to sit down in the grass in front of Eddie, who promptly lowers his legs, his knees no longer tucked up against his chest as he now sits tailorwise, or criss-cross-applesauce, as you both call it. You sit in the same position, your knees pressed against his own as you mirror him.

Eddie tentatively leans forward, bridging the gap between you two, as one of his large, warm hands rises to hover over one of your shoulders for a brief moment before he finally gets the courage to lower it so that it rests there. With his other hand, he takes a much bolder step, lifting his arm and hesitantly reaching up to brush his calloused fingertips against the soft, smooth skin of your cheek before finally cupping it in his palm.

“Is this okay?” He asks you quietly, like he’s afraid that speaking more loudly than a mere whisper will frighten you and scare you off. You nod your affirmative as your hands slowly move forward to rest on his denim-clad thighs, just above his knees. That contact makes Eddie’s breath hitch, but you both elect to ignore it for reasons unbeknownst to each other.

Eddie then leans in further, his bulbous nose gently brushing against yours with purpose, effectively warning you and giving you a chance to stop him. However, you do the opposite. “Eds, please, kiss me,” you whisper.

It’s all the encouragement Eddie needs. He closes the gap between the two of you, his lips finally meeting yours. You try to reciprocate as best as you can, but you’re, admittedly, a little lost. You’re overthinking things, Eddie can tell. He pulls away far sooner than he would’ve liked to and then presses a comforting kiss to the corner of your mouth, by one of your smile lines that he loves so much.

“I wasn’t good, was I?” You grimace, your forehead still resting against his. “Please, you can tell me. I just wanna know what to do, Ott.”

Eddie licks his lips before hesitantly replying, “When you, um,” he clears his throat, “the next time that you kiss someone, try not to purse your lips so much,” he winces, both at the thought of you kissing someone else and out of fear that he’s been too harsh.

“I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do when you kiss someone?” Eddie thinks your puzzled expression is far too adorable to be legal.

“You are! You are, a little bit, I mean. Just not quite so much; you gotta relax your um- your mouth a little bit,” Eddie blushes, thoroughly flustered. As usual, you’re oblivious to his plight, too caught up in your own mind.

Your brows furrow as you stare at his chin absentmindedly, mind racing a million miles an hour all the while, “S-so how much should I purse them then?”

Eddie thinks it over. “It’s hard to explain,” he sighs.

“Could you, you know, show me?” You ask. “I mean, if you’re comfortable kissing me again.”

Little do you know, Eddie would gladly give up both of his kidneys if it meant he got to kiss you again. Needless to say, he’s pretty stoked that he gets to do it without having to endure a double nephrectomy.

He nods, answering wordlessly, before leaning in again, connecting your lips once more. You make sure to pay attention to what he’s doing, to how it feels, so you can mirror it. You relax your mouth a bit, your lips not quite as pursed as before, and Eddie sighs his approval. That sound sets your whole body alight with tingly, little fireworks.

You both get caught up in the moment, in the feeling of finally acting on the desires you’ve both spent years repressing. Consequently, when Eddie nips at your bottom lip, and you respond with a gasp that he can only describe as sinful, he doesn’t even try to resist the urge to take advantage of the momentary part in your lips. You pull back abruptly, primarily out of shock, when you feel his tongue slip through the gap. Eddie winces at the loss.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologies gruffly, comfortingly rubbing your upper arms on instinct, soothing you.

You let out an easy, breathy giggle as you ease back into his space, resting your forehead gently against his own. “It’s okay. You surprised me, that’s all. Just, um, warn me next time, okay?”

Warmth blossoms in both of your chests at the thought of getting to kiss each other again. Eddie lets out a gentle chuckle of his own as he moves his other hand up to cup your other cheek, feeling the warmth alight beneath the soft skin there too.

“Next time?” Eddie questions with a nervous grin, mentally berating himself for daring to question you because, in his eyes, you’re practically offering your lips up to him on a silver platter, and he’s about to make you second guess that monumental decision.

“Yeah,” you let out the prettiest little sigh, “I feel like I have a lot left to learn, and, well, you seem like a pretty good teacher. I mean, if you don’t mind kissing me again, that is,” you look into his eyes hopefully. Eddie feels his smile grow wider at the sight of your sanguine expression.

Eddie offers his whispered reassurance while gently nudging the tip of your nose with his own, “I don’t mind.”

Needless to say, you two won’t make it to the beach today.

Side Note: Please don't feel like you're weird if you're older than 18 and still haven't had your first kiss yet!! I literally haven’t had my first kiss yet and I’m 21 years old. We all do things at our own pace and in our own time, so, trust me, you're not weird at all if you're an adult (of any age) who hasn't been kissed yet!!

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jvkeh · 2 years

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idk if asks are open but can you do soft boyfriend!vernon smut because i am a SIMP for your work thx bb

was waiting for my first svt rq omg!! asks are specified in my pinned post (currently open) thank you for supporting my writing. i hope you enjoyed🥰 why did i actually turn this into silent hard, my bad 😭 theres a lil softness at the end

BOYFRIEND!VERNON

⤷ c.w cunt eating, dommy vernon, mentions of princess | seventeen’s vernon | © jvkeh

boyfriend! vernon is what every girl needs in their life. he’s attentive, communicative, funny and above all, extremely hot.

and he knew you knew he was hot. after all, if the moans radiating off his bedroom walls and into the ears of his members the next dorm over a few fridays ago was anything to go by, he was fairly aware of his effect on you. and your effect on others, he presumes, when seungcheol grudgingly berated him the morning after while covering his region with his hand.

so it made moments like these, where he came back from an mandatory early morning workout with the hiphop team, special. when he was still relieving in his post workout glory, coming home to you still in bed was the perfect contrast to the outgoing atmosphere that was the gym. and getting to see your face scrunch up in your sleep as you feel the empty pillows next to you where vernon should be, is even better.

“good morning, princess.” vernon smiles as your puffy eyes made eye contact with his figure from across the room, amused at your pouting face that showed you weren’t exactly asleep for a bit. “up bright and early today.”

you let out a yawn that causes vernon to laugh as you threw the blanket across the other side of the room, revealing you in just flowy white shorts and a loose fitting pink tank top, before you immediately spreaded your legs across the bed. “maybe because i was waiting for you to come fuck me.”

his eyes widened. shit. on a random sunday morning, you happened to be all worked up? but he wasn’t complaining, when you looked at him with fluttering lashes and he was basically ready to be naked in his revealing tank top and shorts anyway…

“i thought you had your eyes closed, princess?” he hummed, removing his top as he began to untie the laces on his shorts, mantaining eye contact with you. “or were you just fooling me?” he referenced to only fifteen minutes prior, where you looked pained as your eyes were shut. “did you have a scary dream about me?”

“i was having a wet one, actually.” you admitted, closing your legs instinctively. “you eating me out to death.”

that did it for vernon, who stalked across the room until he was directly in front of the bed, and grabbed your ankles, pulling you downwards until your shirt rode up, revealing the glistening layers of sweat from your intimate dream across your stomach. considering it was fourteen degrees celcius out, he was surprised at how hot to the touch you were. you were that riled up?

when his fingers ghosted over your cunt, mindlessly toying with the fabric of your sleep shorts, he felt a increase in heat compared to the other areas of your body. the muscle pulsed under his fingers, clearly straining against the fabric at your touch. you let out a pained grunt as you laid further into the bed, the coldness of his fingers contrasting with the hotness of your body.

“were you looking for me, princess?” he hums as he made great show of slowly removing your shorts, revealing white lace underwear that was transparent in the centre. a result of your dirty thoughts. “when you were stretching your arms out?” he asks, curiously. “wanting me stretching you for real?”

“i was looking for my vibrator.” you replied, exasperated at his slowness to sastify you. “because you are busy for me nowadays.” a snarky tone was evident in your sugarcoated words, a result of vernon’s early leaves and late entrances. even on weeekends, he still was absent for other things he had to do. so it made your interactions with him slim. holidays, people spent it with their significant others. he spent more time with the going seventeen staff during that period than you.

and it wasn’t his fault, you knew it deep down. it’s what he’s obligated to do in order to relish in the good aspects of his job. but it was hard to date someone for years and still be constantly unavailable. and when he was gone in the mornings, only the toys were able to relieve you.

but those words still sting to vernon. “excuse me, yn?” he exhaled, not wishing to raise his voice at all. vernon was not an arguer in the slightest, preferring peace. but it didn’t mean he tolerated badmouthing, especially not to him. “where are your manners?”

“out in the window with our sex life.” you quipped, a smirk curling at witnessing his anger slowly bubble to the surface.

vernon was a boyfriend every girl needed in their life, he is attentive, communicative, and extremely hot. but he’s also another thing, that rarely ever gets to rear it’s head at you due to the nature of his personality, dominant.

he shuffled your underwear down as his head immediately crashed in between your legs, making you yelp as his hands snaked around them, gripping the fat. you were at the very edge of the bed, legs stretched out and forcibly wrapped around vernon’s head as you felt his mouth attack your cunt.

“f-fuck vernon!” you whined out as he licked up the entrance of your vagina, making sure to lubricate your walls with his spit. “f-faster.”

he paused momentarily, still face down in your cunt as your face was looking up to the ceiling. “you don’t make the rules, princess.” he said darkly, before he went down.

he began to shift further into your pussy, reaching your clit. his mouth was like clockwork, working every crook and inch of your skin like he memorised it. despite it being months before you have been ate out, you can feel vernon’s muscle memory kick in with his familiar preferences of how to eat you out.

a finger sneaked in your cunt, rubbing the tightened muscles to loosen you up, more liquid squirting out at his actions. “fuck, princess. you’re so tight, i had to jam my finger in.” he groaned, his body replying to yours by humping the sides of the bed. you could tell he probably had his dick about to burst out of his underwear, as he continued to rub himself, too preoccupied with eating you out to give himself sastifaction. “called you princess too much, you thought you were one.” he said softly, reminding you of your comment.

you could feel your climax building up fast, as vernon quickened his pace of alternating between tongue and finger, using his thumb to rub you over when he got stuck in a particular spot. just from how quickly you were pushed off the cliff, you will never doubt vernon’s ability to please you ever again.

as you let out a cry, body stretching out until your chest reached the air, liquid landed on vernon’s face like rainfall. it took a few minutes for your high to conclude, which is when vernon sat up properly. his face dripped, a result of his amazing game, and his boxers were almost torn in the region at how stiff his dick stuck against the material. his self restraint was out of this world. his hands still gripping your ankles as he let go, opting to tighten them around your waist, forcing your head to look up on him while your chin relaxed on his shoulder.

“i’m sorry i’m not here often.” he apologised sincerely. now that you could see his face up, you can tell his eyes was laced with self doubt and insecurity. you loved it when vernon went silent dom on you, but you forgot the effects it had on his self esteem.

“i’m sorry i said that, i didn’t mean it at all.” you muttered. “i think you do a great job of being home despite your schedule.” you admitted, knowing you could never handle what he does.

“i love you, yn.” he says, eyes glinting with all the happiness of being able to see you in this moment of post sex glory. “thank you for staying for me when i’m not here.”

“i love you too, vernon.” you sigh into his arms. you wrapped your own arms around his waist, as he pulled you in a tight hug, kissing your shoulder up. and then your neck.

“vernon?” you questioned his motives as he began to go further up your neck. “you have anything to show me?”

he took your hand, before pulling it under his boxers. “yeah.”

taglist: @duolingofanaccount

#jvkeh #seventeen smut #vernon smut #vernon 18+#seventeen 18+#kpop smut #vernon chwe smut #seventeen spice #vernon spice #kpop idols smut #kpop 18+#pwp

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felassan · 2 years

Text

some quick'n'dirty thoughts on the new Codex entries:

[wild speculation] it feels like the Grand Necropolis is a game location we will visit (it also comes up quite a bit in the wider blogpost). and/or we'll have a Mortalitasi companion

I'd guess that the writer of this codex, and their friend that teases them, are the two characters that feature in the short story from Dragon Age Day last year, The Flame Eternal. Emmrich referring to Johanna? (Or just emmrich and someone else.. wouldn't really make sense for a nevarran to tease their nevarran friend about their own practises, on reflection). both that short and this new codex are by Sylvia, and the shade of cyan used to obscure the diary owner's name is similar to the cyan in the short story art. saying that, it's the same cyan as Skeleton Boi has, and seems to sometimes indicate necromancy & related magic generally speaking

I could've missed em, but I had a lil look and couldn't find the referenced writings of Genetivi's here or in the WoTs, so they must be among his many in-world writings that we the players haven't seen (it'd be so good to sit in an an in-world library and read and read and read..!!! literally the dream.). but if I missed them pls lmk :D

Vinsomer. the Last Court/Serault enthusiast in me wonders if the lecturer giving the talk on Vinsomer is Frederic of Serault, Professor of Draconology from the University of Orlais. Vinsomer can swim! makes sense, we meet one in DA:I on the Storm Coast and the lore says they prefer rocky coasts.

Thedas has orcas confirmed~ when an animal is dark dorsally and light ventrally, it's called countershading. it's a method of camouflage. in orcas this helps hide them from their prey. there's a squidlike creature on this version of the map, and the "big worms that burrow near the shore" remind me of thresher maws from ME. Thedas has giant bobbit worm type things on the beaches?? 😭 electric eels stun their prey by generating electricity, and it makes sense that a big creature that hunts in the sea would have a beak-like mouth like squid do. the biologist in me is pleased by these references and the thought that clearly went into this codex :D

what's attacking Vinsomer/her lair/her young and why is it a mystery? it's probably because I was thinking about the red lyrium skeleton guys again today just before the community update post came out (literally ten-fifteen mins or so before the blogpost aaaa), but the new Vinsomer codex reminds me of this excerpt [bottom one] for some reason: "From eyewitness reports, the adult dragons never ventured close to where the red lyrium grows, even though they could easily have done so. I can only conclude that the creatures instinctively understand that red lyrium poses a threat."

skskshfuehufh the double entendres in the Randy Dowager codex. Genetivi you rogue

and more generally speaking, this part of the blogpost:

The Hero of Ferelden. The Champion of Kirkwall. The Herald of Andraste. Each of them marked their legacy in the annals of history, but time marches forward and the age of these heroes cannot last forever. As a friend of ours once said, “it’s time for a new hero."

has me wondering for the 89898th time what the DA4 PC's title will be if any. the what of what??? :D I'm dyin. I wonder if time marching forward ties to the implied timeskip to 9:52, and it's exciting to know that there will be other upcoming community updates like this, with the next one being focused on Design. hope the next one contains some new Codex entries too! 👁

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #mj meta #- bls hh dont take the orca comment so srs #Ik & the link included says that its found in many spp.#my bg is in bio and im just freakin about the ref to/inclusion of countershading HH

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daniwib · 13 days

Note

Hiiii 💕💕💕

For the fic never have I ever:

1) have you ever written anything about buddie and sleeping (like an insomnia fic, nightmares, cuddling and falling asleep, etc)?

2) have you ever written anything about buddie and chronic pain?

3.) have you ever written anything about buddie and hurt/comfort? What about angst?

4) have you ever written any sort of buddie AU?

-❤️🪐

Hey, hii!

(Me, holy shit, someone actually sent me an ask? Stay cool, stay cool, it’s cool everyone!)

(Also me, oh shit, I did not realise that this means I have to remember what I’ve written. Hmm. This may have been a mistake, I have the worst memory, I really do. Goes and checks out own ao3 profile for the answers…)

Ok here we go.

Nightmares. Oh hey look at that! I’ve actually got a fic with the word in its title, who knew! A spell for nightmares & fractured hearts is a short and fluffy lil fic about Buck helping Chris heal after the tsunami, and then Chris (and Eddie) helping Buck do the same. And because I’m allergic to fluff, I followed it up with part 2 in that series being long, whumpy and angsty. As for falling asleep, cuddling or insomnia, I can’t find anything in my quick search but I think I’ve written all of those in several of my fics, just not as a major part of the plot, more as part of the comfort part after the hurt usually.

Similar answer for chronic pain, I think? I’ve referenced it here and there in various fics but haven’t written on just about that. It’s a little bit too close to home for me, my dad has had 3 hip replacements (first because of major injury as a firefighter when I was 10, he fell through 3 floors in a burning building) so having lived with someone experiencing it, it doesn’t really appeal to me to write.

Buddie and hurt/comfort – um. Pretty much every single one of my Buddie fics?! I filtered my works with that tag and got 30 hits, so…. Here’s one I’m posting right now that I’m kinda proud of Pictures of You, in which Abuela dies post season 6, Eddie hurts and Buck comforts.

Buddie and angst – refer to above answer lol. If I had to choose a favourite, I think I’d choose empty, broken, lonely, hoping, my beloved presumed dead fic where Buck and Christopher are thought to have perished when Buck’s apartment building burns down and Eddie goes through several chapters of angst. It’s unrelenting really, poor guy. 4. Buddie AU – again, I’ve got several depending on your definition.

If you want a truly Alternate Universe, try I Once Was Lost. It’s a Peter Pan fusion where Buck is Peter, Eddie is Wendy Darling and almost all of the other characters feature in Neverland too. It covers from their childhood up until the end of season 5 and I have a particular soft spot in my heart for it.

If you prefer Canon Divergence, try There Walks Darkness. It’s basically What If Maddie didn’t kill Doug and he was arrested instead – and was one of the prisoners who took Buck and Eddie hostage in season 5? It features a lot of hurt Buck, Buck whump, worried Eddie and the 118, some of my favourite tropes to write.

And lastly, if you prefer supernatural AU, try Returned for a shorter read, which perhaps unsurprisingly is based on the movie and tv show… Returned.

Which reminds me of another supernatural AU that I can’t believe I forgot because I adore it! Trust Me, Darlin’ is my first collab, with the lovely @hella-cious! It's a Supernatural / 911 crossover in which Buck runs into an old hook up (Dean Winchester ofc) at a scene in LA and is promptly kidnapped before the 118’s eyes. Lots of angst and whump in this one and while there is Buck/Dean because lets face it, those two are far too hot not to ship together, it ends in Buddie (and Destiel too, for SPN fans!)

So, wow. There you go. This was a lot longer than I expected it to be but then I’ve never done one of these before. Thanks for being my first ask @steadfastsaturnsrings !!

#ask game #never have I ever #fanfic writing game #911 #buddie #supernatural #SPN #destiel #Peter Pan #Wendy Darling #evan buckley #eddie diaz #9-1-1 #911 abc #whump #angst #hurt/comfort #fanfiction #9-1-1 fanfiction

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hellfirecvnt · 2 years

Note

Eddie smut please!

I’m thinking a fic based on the song sex from the 1975. Eddie and the reader are best friends and used to hang out every day until she got a boyfriend which Eddie is SUPER jealous of.

💕

Took me a second to get to this one, but I wanted it to be REALLY GOOD bc I love The 1975 and I love Eddie and I love you for being so supportive. 🥺❤ Also let me just tell you, I had SO much written and my phone died so I lost ALL OF IT. But we're back. We're trying again. Fuck.

I decided I love this prompt and I'm gonna make a series of this one specifically lmao. Once again, sorry it took so long. I almost gave up writing entirely after I lost my progress. 😂

She's Got a Boyfriend, Anyway.

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: smut at the end (+18, minors DNI), cheating, a lil bit of angst- I think, more?

[I take requests]

It was the same routine everyday ever since you two met six years ago. You and Eddie spend every day, after school and weekends together. Aside from Hellfire, you're each other's only friend.

"Do you know Billy? Hargrove, I think?" You innocently ask, not thinking much of it.

"Hargrove? Yeah, guys a fucking dick." Eddie quips.

"I dunno, he seemed pretty sweet to me." You twirl your hair around your finger, watching the trees zoom past you as Eddie drives you both to his house.

"Oh, come on, Y/N. Don't tell me you're falling for that fake pretty-boy bullshit again." He laughs, referencing the fact that you dated Steve and got your heart broken within 5 months.

"Of course I'm not. I'm just, curious. He seems really nice, to me." A smile can't be helped from finding itself on your face.

"I'm nice to you. Why don't we just fuck in the back of the van right now?" Eddie furrows his brow dramatically, faking confusion for his perverted jokes.

"Shut up, idiot. I'm serious. I need your help picking out an outfit. He asked me out today." The last part of your sentence causes Eddie's smile to fall a bit. He may have hidden it behind an immature joke, but he was being serious too.

"Why would I know what Hargrove wants you to wear? What's wrong with the way you dress?" He questions.

"I don't know, man. I just want to look a little different. I don't want to look like-"

"A freak?" Eddie raises an eyebrow in an I see how it is fashion.

"No, I just want to look clean-cut. A little bit less like all I do is smoke weed and listen to music."

"But that is all you do." Eddie teases as he pulls into his driveway. "And if you want my fashion advice, my first suggestion is to stop stealing my shirts." He points to the worn band shirt draped over you. You roll your eyes and follow him to the front door of his trailer. Eddie's uncle is laying on the couch, looking a little pale.

"Wayne? Take the night off?" Eddie checks in. Wayne explains he's feeling sick so he took today off to recover.

"Hey, let's just hotbox the van. That way it doesn't get all smokey in here while Wayne's not feeling well." Your suggestion earns a thumbs up from Wayne. You've always been considerate like that, something he and Eddie both appreciate about you.

In the van, you climb past the seats, settling into the pile of blankets and various snack wrappers from when you and Eddie camp outside of concert venues for those barricade spots. Eddie follows close behind, eyes fixed on you as you get comfortable, kicking off your high tops and grabbing a magazine to flip through.

"You think Cyndi Lauper is like... Freaky? Like in bed?" You ask, still looking down at the bright red-haired woman's avant-garde makeup.

"She definitely either likes to be slapped around or likes to slap you around." A large, ring-clad hand takes the joint from his mouth and passes it to you. His jewelry catches the dim light of the back of the van.

While you hit the joint, Eddie flips through his many cassettes. He finally settles on Metallica's Kill Em All album, popping it into his radio. He relaxes into the moment, staring at you as he did every day for six years. He's slowly starting to figure out why it's his favorite past time, but for now he's just happy to be your friend.

"Do you think I should take my nose ring out for my date with Billy?" Your question shakes him from his daze and the mention of Billy's name causes his jaw to clench.

"Why would you do that?" Eddie's upper lip twitches in disgust. "He asked you out looking like this, why would you want to look different now?"

"I don't know, dude. I'm really fucking nervous." You cover your face with one hand, dragging it down. You're lying on your stomach, flipping through the magazine while your thoughts race. "He's coming to get me at 6 PM tomorrow." Eddie passes you the joint in a manner that says "shut up."

"Listen, can we change the subject? You're gonna make me sick." His voice comes out a little meaner than he intended, but he's too awkward to know how to fix it. Your eyes widen and you attempt to soften the tension.

"You're right," you laugh. "I tend to ramble a lot." Your face is flushed slightly with the tiniest hint of embarrassment because you didn't mean to get carried away. Noticing your shift, he wants to punch himself in the face.

"Uh, here! Let's smoke two joints and see who smokes theirs faster." Eddie shoves a joint between your fingers.

"You're on, Munson." You wait for him to finish rolling a second joint and you both lean into one lighter so you start smoking at exactly the same time. There were other lighters, y'all just aren't that smart.

As each of you pulls on your joints to get the cherry started, Eddie looks up from the flame, directly into your eyes. It takes a second for you to notice, but you look up, meeting his gaze. He doesn't move or blink, so you give a small smile around your joint. You lower the lighter after a second, having sufficiently lit the joints.

The contrast of the lighter going out shakes Eddie from his trance. The rest of the hang-out was casual and nothing short of your usual day together. Talking about sex, drugs, music, and occasionally DnD. Hours pass before you finally check your watch.

"Holy shit, Eddie. It's 10 o'clock!" You jump up from the soft blankets in the van. "I gotta go, I have to go to sleep soon or I'm gonna look dead tomorrow."

"Hop up front. I'll take you home." Eddie offers as if it's not your only way of getting home. The second you get in your door, you drag Eddie to your room.

"Please help me pick out an outfit, Eddie. It'll be so fast." You tug on the sleeve of his leather jacket. He rolls his eyes and hesitantly agrees. You scramble through your closet looking for something with the least amount of rips and tears. "What about this?" You hold up a dress you've never worn because it's periwinkle and you're not with it.

"A dress? Y/N, seriously?" Again, meaner than he intended. You once again did that thing you do when you're embarrassed and just try to smile the blush away, agreeing with whatever is being said to you.

"You're right, you're right. Um-" It was apparent in your voice that you were getting angry.

"Hey, Y/N-" Eddie attempt to meet your downcast eyes.

"Eddie, you can leave because I can tell you don't want to do this. I know you don't care about the date, and I know you hate Billy, so it was kind of shitty of me to ask you to help me. You're just," you stop to toss your hands up, defeated and dramatic. "My only friend and I like having your opinion on things."

Eddie could explode right now. He could punch himself directly between his own two eyes. No one has ever bitten their tongue as hard as he wished he'd bitten his just seconds ago. He stares at you apologetically, lips pressed tightly together in a speechless, straight line.

"Dude, I'm sorry. Let me help you, I was being a dick." Eddie start rummaging through your clothes.

"It's fine, man. I'm just nervous, I'm sorry." You look at the floor, defeated after your little outburst.

"Shut up, try this on." Eddie tosses you a random top. This is how all of your apologies went, ever since you met. They're almost instant. You've never had a "fight" last longer than a few hours.

You try the top on and it's perfect. Flattering in all the best ways, making you feel hot and comfortable. You pair it with a go-to pair of flared jeans and call it a night. Eddie waves and flashes a toothy grin as he exits out your window. He doesn't even actually need to use the window, he just likes to.

Back at his trailer, Eddie tosses and turns with anger. He didn't care that you had a date, he didn't care that it was with Hawkins's number one womanizer, he knew you could take care of yourself. He was mad because it wasn't him taking you on that date.

The next day Eddie wakes up feeling like he hasn't slept at all. His dreams were consumed with pictures of you, naked on his bed, reading your magazines and getting high. Just the memory of the dream is enough for him to wake up hard.

He shoves those thoughts to the back of his mind and checks the clock. Noon. Not bad for a weekend. Eddie throws the blankets back over his head and falls back asleep, silently hoping for more dreams of you.

Your date with Billy is in just a few hours, so you're getting ready in advance just in case. In case of what, you ask? You don't know. You're just really nervous. Billy picks you up and the two of you head off to the movies.

By the end of your date, you're officially Billy Hargrove's girlfriend. The way he asked was so perfect and romantic, you don't even know where to start. Your first instinct is to call your best friend and tell him everything, but then you remember how annoyed it made him before. So you hang up the phone before dialing and head to your bedroom.

Eddie wakes up, again, and checks the clock. 10 PM.

"Oh, shit." Eddie jumps up and runs to the living room. "Wayne, did Y/N call?"

"Nah, no calls. You sleep all Saturday?" Wayne's voice carries worry.

"Yeah, I don't wanna talk about it. I'll see you later." Eddie calls as he heads out to his van. A short trip later, he arrives at your house. This time using the window because he has to. He taps on it a little before just opening it as wide as possible.

"HOLY SHIT!" You yell having woken up to a dark, broad shouldered figure climbing through your window.

"You should really lock your windows, Y/N. I could've had ulterior motives." Eddie winks in the moonlight leaking through the window.

"Fuck, dude. What are you doing here? It's like 11 o'clock." You rub your eyes.

"It's 10:15 and I just wanted to see how the date went, damn." Eddie drops onto your bed. "So how'd it go?" Eddie smiles over your sleepy face.

"He asked me to be his girlfriend." You gush, blushing and fluttering your tired eyes. "We're seeing each other again tomorrow!"

"That's awesome, wow." Eddie works hard to sound excited for you, but he feels sick to his stomach. Seeing you this happy is enough for him to keep his comments to himself, though. For now.

Eddie turns to look at you, but you've already fallen back asleep. He watches you for a moment, regretting his choice to come here because this news is going to eat him alive when he tries to sleep tonight. Not to mention him already sleeping all day today.

The next day, you don't see each other. The day after that, the same. Billy steals you away every chance he gets. He knows you and Eddie are best friends, and he's hoping to help you realize there are more people to hang around than the local freak.

Two whole weeks pass and the only time Eddie sees you is at Hellfire. It's Friday again and you've arrived at Hellfire before anyone else, except Eddie, of course.

"Hey, man. I'm really excited for this finale!" You beam at him, causing his heart rate to rise.

"I'm glad you've still been able to make it considering you're always so busy." Eddie teases.

"I know, I'm sorry. We should hang out tonight!" Your suggestion catches Eddie off guard. "I'll tell Billy I'm riding home with you."

"Sounds great," Eddie smirks, basking in the idea of you telling Billy you can't hang because you're going to Eddie's. Hellfire club dismisses and you follow Eddie out to his van. Outside the doors, Billy is waiting, leaning against his Camaro.

"Hey, babe," Billy's smooth voice wraps around you like a rope, drawing you into him. "You ready to go?"

"Actually, I'm hanging out with Eddie tonight." You point to Eddie next to his van. "I haven't seen him in a few weeks, so I-"

"But you see him at Hellfire, don't you?" Billy, visibly bothered, folds his arms across his chest.

"Well, yeah. But that's like- it's not like hanging out. We're killing things and he's playing God." You struggle to explain.

"So you're just gonna go over to some guy's house, at night, instead of seeing your boyfriend?" Billy was starting to raise his voice ever so slightly.

"Whoa, man. I've known him for six years." You shake your head in shock.

"Whatever, if you're acting single tonight, I can do the same." And with that, he slides into his car and drives off. He makes sure to squeal the tires as he creates more distance between you. You scoff before shaking your head and walking over to Eddie.

"The fuuuuck was that?" Eddie tries to hide a giggle, giddy knowing he makes Billy so jealous.

"I don't know, dude. But it was kind of hard to watch." You laugh, causing Eddie's laugh to finally escape. The two of you crack up over Billy's little performance before heading back to Eddie's.

"He's literally never done that before. It was so weird. And he's fully aware that we see each other every day, he's never once made it a thing." You pass the joint to Eddie. With your legs extended across his mattress, you propped yourself up on his pillows. Fully occupying the bed.

"That's so fucking weird, man. I've heard he's a little insane." Eddie sits at the end of his bed, practicing chords on his acoustic guitar.

"I don't think he's insane. I just don't understand why he reacted that way." Your eyes remain glued to the page even after you feel Eddie's gaze on you. "What?" You finally look up at him.

"Just... Kinda sounds like you're defending him for no reason. You know, like you did before." He raises his eyebrows.

"Eddie, I-" you start, but you're cut off by car doors outside. You both rush to the blinds to peek, being nosy busybodies, but not giving a shit. That's when you notice Billy's car in the driveway of another trailer that he definitely doesn't live in.

"That's uh... That's Natalia's house." Eddie speaks nervously, knowing Natalia is well known at your school for... Let's just say, stealing boyfriends. As Billy approaches the door, he turns as if he knows you see him and winks at you with a big, gorgeous, evil grin. He disappears behind the door without a word.

"Well, damn." You stare in shock. "Good thing it's only been a few weeks, but damn."

"That was... A lot. You okay?" Eddie places a hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm not too worried about it." You shrug. Eddie scans your features for any kind of emotion, there doesn't seem to be any.

"Okay..." Eddie draws the word out. "Well, you uh... You acting single tonight?" He side-eyes you.

"Munson," you place a playful hand on your chest as if you're offended. "Feeling bold?" You raise an eyebrow, caught off guard by his question, but you can't deny the excitement it ignited in your stomach.

"Just seems a little unfair, that's all." He shrugs, carefully making his way closer to you.

"I guess so." You bite your lip. Your eyes are locked on your shoes until you feel two large hands gripping your shoulders. You look up to see Eddie gazing down at you with half-lidded, dark brown eyes.

"Let me," Eddie takes a deep breath. "Let me make you feel single." He chuckles into your ear.

"H-How do you plan on going that, Eddie?" You stutter through quickening breaths. Eddie is so close to you, you can barely keep him in focus.

"By fucking your pretty little brains out." His voice comes out in a low growl, sending chills down your spine to the heat building between your legs.

"Slow down, honey." You quip, backing him up and shoving him onto the couch. He stares up at you expectantly, an awe-struck look plastered across his face as he awaits your next move. You keep eye contact with him as you pull your hair back into a messy bun, kneeling between Eddie's legs.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie's voice is nothing less than a desperate huff of breath while he watches your hands slide up his inner thighs to his belt. You focus intently on the handcuff-shaped buckle, unfastening his pants and pulling back his boxers.

Your eyes widen as his erection springs past the elastic of his underwear. Losing all self-control, you grab his length and take him as far as possible down your throat.

"Holy shit," he grabs a fist full of your hair. "Just like that." He throws his head back, moaning into the emptiness of the trailer. You quicken your pace, earning louder moans and involuntary hip bucking.

Eddie pulls your mouth off his cock, tossing you onto the couch, effectively trading your places. He begins eagerly grabbing at your shirt and the button on your pants, but you stop him. You place your hands on his and hold them still, contemplating.

"I mean, we don't have to do this. I don't want to keep you from doing what you were doing, but if we're doing anything, we might as well just fuck." Eddie's words fill you with the most confusing feelings, but most of all, lust. He's right, Billy's at Natalia's most definitely cheating on you, you'll probably be done with him after this anyways. Might as well fuck your best friend.

You wrap your fingers around the collar of his jean vest and pull his lips into yours. He instantly kisses back, nipping lightly at your bottom lip with his teeth. Each gentle bite is closely followed by sweet, breathy moans from your chest. Eddie melts more and more with each high-pitched sound.

Eddie continues undressing you, audibly aroused more and more as you become exposed completely. He bites his fist watching you slide your delicate hand down to play with yourself for him.

"Somebody's needy," he chuckles, watching you intently. You circle your middle finger around your clit a few times before plunging your finger deep inside you. You and Eddie moan at nearly the same time.

"Don't make me wait all night, Eddie." Your low, sultry voice forces his hand onto his cock. He strokes himself, eyeballing the way your hands move to pleasure yourself.

"I think you'll be okay, sweetheart. Keep going." He towers over you, his rough voice cascading down to you like boulders down a hill. You do as he says, continuing to touch yourself while he does the same. You start fingering yourself faster, gasping lightly as your orgasm approaches.

Suddenly, your arm is yanked away.

"No!" You cry, replacing the hand with your other one only for it to be yanked away too. He pins both of your wrists above your head, positioning himself at your entrance. Your orgasm is quickly dissipating with nothing to rub against your aching clit.

"Just... Wait... A little... More..." Eddie hovers over you, one hand holding your wrists, the other sliding the head of his cock up and down your drenched folds. You writhe and squirm, desperate for contact, begging him to fuck you already. "Okay," he smiles deviously before slamming into you, hard.

"Eddie!" You moan as he glides in and out of you, low growls rumbling from his lips. His guitar pick necklace dangles in your face, brushing against the tip of your nose with each impaling thrust.

"You're so God damn tight, Y/N." His words are broken up by small grunts as he fucks you. "It's fucking unbelievable" You can't help but smile at his praise, happily taking all of him despite the dull pain of being stretched out so abruptly.

"I never thought I'd be hearing you say that to me, Eddie. Gotta be frank." You joke, still getting dicked into oblivion.

"I did," he winks, picking up his pace. Your moans get louder and louder, the pit in your stomach doubling by the second. Sweat clings to the curls around his face, securely gluing them to his jawline. Still fucking you, he rises up straight and sheds his jacket/vest before nearly tearing the shirt off his body.

He returns to his position over you, never breaking his stride. Sweat glistens down his body as his back curves and arches as he slams into you. Your breath begins to hitch in your chest from your orgasm building up.

"Eddie, I-I'm gonna-" he cuts you off with a hard kiss. He throws your legs over his shoulders, hungrily grabbing at your thighs as he fucks you over the edge. You arch your back as the waves of pleasure shoot through your core. You drench Eddie's pelvis in the evidence of your arousal, but he doesn't stop fucking you.

Instead, he flips you onto your stomach. He grips the hair on the back of your head and pulls roughly to get you to assume an all-fours position. You follow his silent directions and he slips himself back in your fucked out hole.

"Fuuuuuck," he sighs as he slides into you. "So fucking good." He mewls out above you, fucking harder and deeper into your pussy with each thrust. You try to protest, tell him it's too much, but he buries your face in the cushion and continues chasing his high.

"Eddieeee!" You scream, suddenly cumming yet again.

"Shut up, just a little more." He huffs angrily, stone focused on the way your back flexes as you fight to hold yourself up. You're a weak, fucked out mess by now, still taking his hard cock. High-pitched whines and cries leak past your lips as he continues, very suddenly picking up his speed at the last second.

"Oh my God, Eddie please!" You cry into the cushion. He thrusts a few times more before pulling out and finishing all over your round ass. Your legs finally collapse and you're laying face down, hair a mess, covered in sweat and cum that isn't your boyfriend's.

"Holy shit," Eddie fights to catch his breath.

"Have fun?" That's all you can say through your dicked down haze.

"Yeah," he sighs. "A lot better than I ever imagined it." He chuckles.

"How many times have you imagined it?" You raise, quizzically.

"Lots and lots of times, Y/N." He shines his famous downturned smile and winks. You feel the blood rise quickly in your cheeks.

#eddie munson imagine #stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #requested #request

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thisismysecondrodeo · 1 year

Text

School Daze pt. 3

AN: Okay so there will definitely be a part 4 lol. This is a LONG chapter because there's smut (who me? writing smut?!) but it's skippable! Smut starts and ends with 🌶 so feel free to read or not read as you so choose.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Michelle Lasso, Henry Lasso, Second Chance Romance, Alternate Universe - College/University, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Time Skips, Ted and Beard have the purest friendship, Ted Lasso Deserves Love, Getting Together, nipple play, explicit sexual intercourse, dry humping,

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Fic Masterlist

22 Years Ago

Beard didn’t know how he got there but he shivered in front of Ted’s dorm room and tried to force himself to ask for help. It was winter and he was soaking wet in a white t-shirt and black jeans, no coat, and no shoes.

Ted knew about the drugs. Not all of them, he kept the worst of it from Ted, but it had gotten bad and he needed help and Ted wouldn’t judge.

“Of course, I wouldn’t judge you,” Ted responded and all of a sudden Beard realized he was not only talking out loud but was wearing Ted’s clothes, crammed in Ted’s tiny bed. The man himself was sitting near his feet, his back pressed against the cement wall and a textbook opened in his lap. Beard didn’t remember anything between knocking on the door and then being here. He tried to push himself up into a sitting position, immediately embarrassed at being this fucked up and needy, but Ted pressed him back gently and Beard realized he was still shaking like a leaf.

“I’m sorr—” Beard started to apologize, but Ted cut him off.

“Don’t apologize for needing a friend. Do you want to stop?”

Beard nodded immediately and emphatically, “But I’m worried the minute I leave here I’ll be right back there and I can’t…I don’t…I’m not a strong person, Ted.”

“Sure you are,” Ted said, his voice as cheery as always, but before Beard could get frustrated with Ted’s assumed naivety, he continued, “but I can be your crutch until you get your strength back. What do you say?”

“I’d say you don’t know what you’re gettin’ into,” Beard mumbled, tucking Ted’s navy blue comforter under his chin. Deflecting, as usual.

“Mmm,” Ted hummed, closing his textbook, “I could say the same for you because this is gonna require 100% honesty from you and lil ol’ me as your constant companion.” Beard shrugged under the covers and Ted climbed off the bed, slipping the textbook into his ratty Jansport, before pulling the covers away. “Let’s get a move on now, I’ve got theater.”

PRESENT

Ted handed you the bouquet of flowers and your hands brushed, sending a spark tingling up to your wrist. You grinned, leaning in to press a grateful kiss to his cheek. You’d wanted to meet his lips, you’d been thinking about it all day, but after your conversation with Beard, you were being a little more cautious. Beard didn’t scare you off, but he certainly made you remember this was potentially more than just a bit of fun with an old friend. Which meant you needed to have some serious conversations before you pulled him back into bed.

Ted just seemed happy to see you, rocking back on his heels, his eyes never leaving yours. “You look gorgeous,” Ted complimented with boundless enthusiasm and you winked, whispering conspiratorially, “I bought it just for you.” You tucked the flowers in the curve of one elbow, taking his hand and leading him toward the hotel restaurant. After settling and ordering wine, you cleared your throat, signaling that you were moving beyond the pleasantries.

“I had a nice talk with Beard today,” you started and Ted arched an eyebrow. Clearly, Beard hadn’t said anything to him. “That’s not sarcasm, it really was nice. He’s a good friend.”

“The best,” Ted agreed sagely.

“So, here are some things I should tell you. Nothing crazy, I swear, but just… I should let you know before things go further. Not that I assume we’re going further, but after, you know… I’m rambling.” You sighed, taking a sip of your wine and Ted smirked.

“I would love to take things further, so hit me.” The waiter came back and you both ordered entrees, and then you folded your hands on the table in front of you.

“The reason you couldn’t find me after theater ended is because I dropped out. My mom got really sick and there was no one else to take care of her. I had no idea you were looking for me, I promise,” Ted looked like he wanted to interrupt and tell you it was no big deal, tell you he was sorry, but you pushed on, “No one’s fault. We both moved on and life happened and now here we are. But the other thing I should tell you is that I’m here on vacation because I got laid off. I still swear it's a coincidence, I really didn’t know you were here and I’m not after your money. I just thought, after my talk with Beard, I should lay all my cards on the table. Because…I have real feelings for you Ted.”

Ted’s smile crept up slowly, his dimple deepening as he reached across the table to take your hand in his. “I appreciate that, darlin’. And I’m so sorry about all the tough times you’ve had, back then and now. Gosh, I’m sorry I didn’t try harder when you could have used a friend.”

Something about that sentiment, the idea of Ted being disappointed that he couldn’t have just been a friend when you were in need brought tears to your eyes, and you blinked them away swiftly. “I appreciate that Ted. I really do.”

“I don’t know what the future has in store for you or us, but I’d really like to see where this could go,” Ted said sincerely, just as your plates arrived. Before he could pick up his fork, you leaned across the table and kissed him, sweet and bold and public as hell. As always, Ted kissed back.

The two of you behaved yourselves for maybe half of your meal before it was boxed up and you were pulling Ted to your hotel room, too hungry for each other to even think about eating. The elevator was empty and Ted had you pressed against the mirrored wall, his lips hot on your neck and his hands heavy on your hips. Your hand curled around the back of his neck, his skin hot to the touch, and you sighed heavily at his affection. The elevator dinged and you quickly separated, still looking suspicious to the older couple taking your place but not enough to ruin the mood when you slid your key card into the door and ushered Ted in.

🌶

You’d left a lamp on and your hotel room was small but cozy, the lighting bringing out the honey tones of Ted’s eyes, the shadows adding a layer of intrigue to his gaze. He watched you set your keycard aside, his hands in his pockets only drawing attention to his arousal. You smiled over your shoulder at him, pleased that he was letting you take the lead. You turned and slipped your hands into the shoulders of his blazer, sliding it back slowly as he removed his hands from his pocket so it could fall away entirely. His chest hair peeked out of the top of his dress shirt and you leaned forward and kissed him there, right at the base of his throat. He swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing as he pulled his arms free of his jacket and took it from you to toss gently on the back of an armchair.

“I’m glad you didn’t wear a tie,” you said softly, pressing more kisses to his neck and moving on to the buttons of his shirt, revealing more and more skin to focus your attention on.

“Yeah,” Ted asked, his voice low and breathy, “not too casual?”

“I like casual,” you shrugged, his shirt now hanging open. You nipped at the front of his shoulder and he hissed slightly. “No undershirt either. I like that you made it easy.”

Ted laughed at that, the implication that he was easy—that any of this was— considering the whole relationship had been over 20 years in the making. You started working on his belt but Ted had let you have your fill and he needed more of you. He slipped his hands under your shirt, the barely there caress tickling and distracting you enough for him to lift it over your head. Your own pants followed easily, and you kicked them off your feet as he backed you toward the bed, his tongue sliding easily into your mouth. Ted wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you just enough to get you centered on the bed, his knee finding a place between your legs that had you involuntarily jerking against his thigh.

“Woah there,” he teased, using his large hands to press you down against the overstuffed duvet. “Someone’s ready to go, huh?”

You gave a pointed look to his tented pants, “Yeah, someone sure is.”

You sat up on your elbows and he met you for another deep kiss, his hands crawling from your hips to your back, easily undoing the clasp of your bra. You whimpered at the loss when he pulled back from the kiss, but his lips found your jaw and neck and sternum, and then he was sucking a nipple into the heat of his mouth and you moaned. He flicked his tongue against you, the sensation going straight to your clit. When you realized his leg was still between yours, you didn’t hesitate to find relief grinding down on his thigh.

“Jesus fuck Ted, you’re so good with your tongue,” you whined, and you could feel him smile against you. He released your nipple, his eyes finding yours as he pressed his leg into you firmer and you sucked in a breath.

“That’s a good girl, take what you need.” He didn’t wait for a response before he attached himself to your other nipple and you nearly shrieked with pleasure. One of your hands found the back of his neck, the other digging into this bicep, and you knew you were going to come. You, a grown woman, were about to come from nipple play and dry humping. It would have been embarrassing if it didn’t feel so magical. Ted’s tongue started moving in faster, tighter circles, and your hips shifted just so, and then you were falling apart. Curses and praise fell from your lips in equal measure as you jerked erratically. Ted sat back, his hands running warm gentle paths along your side as you came back down, your eyes immediately finding the small wet spot on his leg.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t you ever apologize for that. Ever. That’s like apologizing for a miracle. Imagine Jesus sayin’, ‘sorry I turned water into wine.’”

“Jesus Christ,” you laughed, knowing Ted was being ridiculous on purpose.

“Yeah, that’s him!”

You sat up to finally open Ted’s pants with a roll of your eyes and he chuckled at his own joke as he slipped off the bed to let them fall to the floor. He went to crawl back onto the bed, but you placed an open hand against the softness of his belly.

“Ah ah,” you smirked, letting your hand trail down to cup his hard length over his boxer briefs and he growled. “Lose ‘em.”

Ted peeled his striped briefs off and his cock bobbed, drawing your eye and your interest. Before you could get your hands on him he playfully launched himself back onto the bed, covering your body with his and you giggled. Sex with Ted was fun, everything about Ted was fun. Ted clearly felt the same, sucking ticklish kisses everywhere he could reach just to keep you laughing. He moved down your body, catching the edge of your underwear with his teeth and dragging them as far as he could without his hands.

“You make me feel fucking 20 again, I swear,” you smiled, pulling him back against you, both of you now naked and joyful and wanting.

“Good,” Ted whispered, his breath hitting the shell of your ear and making you shiver, “‘cause we’re not getting any younger, darlin’.”

You reached a hand between your bodies to wrap your fingers around him and he dropped his forehead to your collarbone with a lustful exhale. “Well then you should probably fuck me sooner rather than later, hm?” You felt Ted grin against your skin before he sunk his teeth into your shoulder and you groaned, your hand tightening around him.

Using a firm grip on Ted’s hair you encouraged him onto his side and then his back, quickly straddling him. You both took a moment to just look at each: cheeks rosy, eyes glassy with passion, bodies warm and soft. You reached a hand out to cup the side of Ted’s face, your thumb tracing his bottom lip and his mouth fell open easily. It was enough to know how willing he was, how pliable; it sent a burning heat through you that made you unable to wait even one more second for him to fill you.

The first time this had happened—was that just last night?!—Ted had ducked into the bathroom for a condom, but you didn’t want him to have to go scrounging through his pants if it wasn’t needed.

“I was tested a few weeks ago. And I'm on birth control.”

“Was tested last month, nobody in between,” Ted said quickly, “but if you’d be more comfortable—”

“Nope,” you responded, raising up slightly to sink down on him slowly, letting yourself adjust to him and the feeling of no barrier between you. The firm weight of him stretched you perfectly. He cursed beneath you when you seated yourself fully, his eyes closed and his fingers digging gently into your thighs. You hoped you’d still be able to see where he touched you in the morning. He looked at you when you started to rock against him, slowly but already starting to build, already starting to chase what felt good.

“You feel so good, Y/N. So good.” You appreciated Ted’s praise, but you liked when he lost control, when he cursed and writhed, so you pulled yourself almost all the way off of him and then quickly back down. Your thighs strained with the effort but it was worth it to hear Ted say, “fuckin' shit,” and feel his grip tighten on you. Supporting yourself on his chest, your thumbs brushed his nipples and his head fell back against the pillow again. You rode him earnestly, and though you could certainly come this way, your walls starting to flutter, your legs wouldn’t last that long—before you had to ask, Ted was flipping you. He barely gave you a chance to catch your breath before he was driving back into you, hard and fast.

Ted was hitting the perfect spot inside you, his weight resting on one elbow, his other hand supporting your thigh. It wouldn’t take you long to reach your peak, especially if you could get a finger on your clit. You started to snake your hand between your bodies but Ted noticed and beat you to it.

“Can I make you come again, sweetheart?” You knew Ted wasn’t asking if it was possible, but if he could be the one to make it happen and you couldn’t think of anything you wanted more.

“Please, please, please, please.”

Ted used his thumb, his hand moving slower than his cock so there was constant pleasure. You knew you were still saying something but you weren’t listening to yourself, too busy riding a roller coaster that only seemed to be going up. If Ted’s pace was anything to go by he was right there next to you. Ted’s hips snapped into yours and he panted your name, and you were so close, so close…

“Faster, fuck, your thumb faster, please” you whimpered, and Ted obeyed immediately. You cried out, obnoxiously loud for a hotel room, but there was no keeping this sensation to yourself. Your vision whited as Ted’s hips stuttered and he followed you over the edge, groaning your name as his cock twitched and emptied. It took a few minutes for your breathing to slow and your eyes to open, to stop being overwhelmed by the warm sense of fullness and return to the present. When you did, Ted was cleaning you up gently, smiling when he felt your eyes on him.

🌶

“Not to be presumptuous, but I thought I might stay the night?”

“Don’t ever leave,” you smiled, and Ted chuckled, lifting up the corner of the duvet and helping you under it. He followed you under, tucking you close to him. It would have been easy to slip into a safe sleep, but Ted’s phone clattered against the nightstand.

“Sorry,” Ted grumbled, reaching over you to retrieve it, “might be Henry.”

Ted picked up and just listened, his only real words were, “Where are you?” When he hung up you felt him sit up, preparing to go somewhere. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, his other hand stroking lightly over your shoulders.

“Was it Henry?”

“Beard. He’s somewhere downtown and…you have no idea how much I don’t want to go darlin’. But, long story short, when Beard says he needs me he means it.”

“Tell him to come here.” Ted raised his eyebrows, his eyes darting between your naked bodies. “Okay, not like here here, but the hotel. I’ll stay out of the way, I promise, but neither one of you should be wandering around at this hour. Go sit with him in the lobby.”

Ted thought about it for a moment and then fired off a few quick texts before climbing out of bed and collecting his abandoned clothing. “You’re right, sweetheart. He’s gonna come here.”

“Do you know what’s wrong,” you asked, watching from your cocoon in bed as he buttoned his shirt, his long fingers moving quickly.

“Not exactly. But if I had to guess it's something about Jane. I’ll be back, gorgeous,” Ted leaned over the bed and kissed you sweetly. He made his way toward the door, flicking out the lamp and closing the curtains tightly for you.

“Take my key card,” you called out quickly, his hand on the doorknob, “you’re a good friend, Ted.”

<- Part 2 | Part 4 ->

#ted lasso #ted x reader #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso x yn #ted lasso fluff #fluff #au

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eyesorefortheblind · 6 months

Text

Guzma/Eclipse Ideas/Headcanons

Art by Inspector-Valvert <3

Just a whole rambling list I've done of ideas and headcanons between my OC Eclipse and Guzma! OC x Canon forever. Some ideas referenced from YuuriVoice and KinkRadio Guzma audios.

Little context before you jump in, Eclipse is a Pokemon hiding as a human, so that should help you understand things better.

It's long. And it's in no particular order. I didn't realize I had filled out like 18 pages in google docs woOPS.

Lil' disclaimer/trigger warning before you dive in - mentions of death, touches on the topics of abuse and trauma, and mildly spicy at times! Nothing too in depth but just wanted to give that warning. Also swearing.

At first, Eclipse is pretty quiet about where she came from and where she grew up as a kid. She just vaguely mentions that she needed a new place to escape to if anyone asks. Other than that she just lies about where she came from.

She picked up a story about living in the Orre region from a quick fling and passes it off as her own.

Of course if she actually meets anyone from Orre, it's gunna be awkward. She's never heard of Shadow Pokémon so-

She references that she was a bounty hunter and explorer back home. She had an entire team at her back, much like Guzma does now. However, all that fell apart.

She doesn't explain what happened, but Guzma catches a familiar hurt in her eyes. Something happened.

She explains that she used to get bullied as a kid for being different, and her guild used to give people like her a place to go to.

She worked really fucking hard for that guild. She wanted it to be a place for those who are different to escape to. For those who didn't fit into the norm.

The boss notes it's not too off from Team Skull.

Guzma sees that sparkle in her eye whenever she talks about exploring or battling - it was something she was clearly passionate about.

It's weird though, she's so passionate about it but doesn't have a Pokémon of her own.

Sometimes he catches her writing in an old looking journal, but he never sees what she's writing. She never lets her look at the pages.

Guzma has a lot of questions about her past, but Eclipse has just as many secrets.

She mentioned she had just been wandering for about four months around Alola before she found Team Skull's base.

This woman just shows up in Po Town, drenched by the rain, with nothing more than the clothes on her back and the contents of her bag. How did she make it this long in Alola? Sure it wasn't too hard to survive, but… She's a mystery.

Eventually Eclipse opens up enough to explain that she had a Pokémon partner of her own.

An Absol named Soul.

He was her everything. Her second in command. Her partner that helped her start the guild. Her battle companion.

He meant the world to her.

They ran the guild side by side for a few years, but something happened.

Soul died protecting her and it caused a break in Eclipse. She couldn't find it in herself to keep going without him.

Eventually she just left. Up and abandoned everything she had.

Eclipse calls herself a coward for doing it but it's much deeper than she initially lets on.

It explains why Eclipse has been wandering around without Pokémon of her own.

She swore off a companionship with a partner Pokémon because she didn't want anyone else to get hurt for/because of her.

That scarf she wears belonged to Soul. It's why she nearly always has it on her or has to know where it is at all times.

However that little Vinepede was just insistent on following and going with her.

Fuck.

Of course Guzma doesn't open up to her at first either.

He's still recovering a bit from the events of ultra space and the Nihilego.

Guzma always boasts about how he's not scared of anything, but the Ultra Space incident more than shook him up. That was the first time he had felt genuine fear.

If Eclipse looks close enough she can see faint outlines of something across his torso. (Scars maybe from where those weird jellyfish grabbed him?)

Eclipse doesn't know much about Aether it seems, but he notes she is a bit interested in learning about them (for some reason…)

After the events of Ultra Space, Guzma is cold to Aether and Lusamine.

He comes to recognize that she only treated him with respect so that she could use him and Team Skull for her own gain.

They have a run in when Guzma and Eclipse are enjoying a date in Malie City. The two are sitting in Malie Garden when Lusamine approaches them and asks how Guzma is doing. She's surprised to see Guzma actually managed to nab himself a girl.

There's a scowl on Guzma's face as he explains that yes, they are on a date, now buzz off.

Eclipse is confused as all hell. Who is this lady? And why does she smell… familiar?

Lusamine asks her name, and that's it. She just leaves. Aight then.

Eclipse can be pretty prideful and headstrong, a result of her parents raising her to be the best she could be. Though, she did get bullied as a kid.

Because she was born as a hybrid, she got picked on for being different. Like a lot. It wasn't a lot of kids picking on her, mostly just a select few.

Eclipse didn't let it get to her too bad, instead she used the teasing and bullying as fuel to get her guild off the ground.

She desperately wanted to become an explorer like the great rescue teams she had heard of and even met. One or two visited her school to talk about rescue teams and exploration teams occasionally.

Team ACT and Wigglytuff's Guild were huge inspirations to her as a kid and she strived to be like them.

Eclipse let those words instead fuel her desire to start her own guild for those just like her - hybrids that had been teased, shunned, bullied for who they were. She wanted to make her guild a safe haven for those who were different. It was a place to prove that even those who were different could still achieve just as much in life and more.

Team ACT (composed of Alakazam, Charizard, and Tyranitar) were one of the teams that Eclipse looked up to. She had heard of their adventures and influence and wanted to be like them.

During a visit to the school Eclipse attended as a kid, she got to meet her heros and she told them all about how she wanted to be an explorer and part of a rescue team when she got older.

Alakazam noted that look in her eyes. She was determined. It was different, not that light that would flicker and die out when kids grow up.

He told her to continue on in her passions. Should they meet again, he would check on her progress.

They did meet again, Eclipse was a young adult at that point and had just formed a companionship with Soul.

Eclipse came upon Team ACT at a bulletin board and she eagerly asked if they remembered her. Alakazam recognizes her and doesn't even have to ask - he can tell she's been working all these years to achieve her dreams.

The only thing keeping her from starting her guild is a lack of members and funds.

Alakazam makes her a deal - if she can complete a rather tough rescue mission, he will fund her guild.

Eclipse immediately jumps at this and drags Soul off with her. The mission is a struggle and takes her numerous tries, but she manages to rescue a hybrid by the name of Mynder. Mynder joins their team and Alakazam funds their guild, just as he promised.

Team Skull reminds her a lot of her team from back home.

A bunch of headstrong young adults looking for a place in the world.

They don't quite fit in like everyone else, so they make their own place to fit in.

Guzma supports them, gives them a place to stay, makes sure they're fed, the whole nine yards.

It reminds Eclipse a lot of herself. Someone running a whole place with those who don't quite fit in.

And it hurts to see that reminder of what she used to be.

But she has to give him the credit and respect Guzma deserves. He's doing all this for them.

She has massive respect for those taking in and helping in others.

Guzma likes being a little spoon, but he's never gunna admit that. Sometimes they tussle over who gets to be the big spoon but usually Eclipse wins. (Guzma lets her)

It's stupid, but Guzma likes being held. Just knowing someone actually wants to hold onto him and touch him makes him melt a little under that hard shell of his.

In a way, Eclipse grounds him in the sense that she's a solid reminder that there's someone there rooting for him. Yeah, he has the grunts, but this is more personal. There are some things he just can't talk with them about. Hell, some things he can't even talk with Plumeria about. But her… he's reluctant at first but some things he opens up to Eclipse about.

Of course there are times where he needs to be the big spoon. He is the big bad boss who needs to take care of his little love bug, after all. And what if one of the grunts barges in and he's the one being spooned?? Way too embarrassing, the grunts could never see that.

Mostly he does it when the grunts are being especially rowdy some days, that's usually when it's most likely they'll come barging into his room to tell him some punk is messing with them or something like that.

Plumeria caught them once where Eclipse was absolutely latched onto his back (and maybe wearing the Boss' jacket), but Big Sis promised she wouldn't say anything. At least to the grunts. She absolutely gives Guzma shit for it in private, but in a playful way.

Eclipse is reckless as fuck.

Occasional "I crave violence" vibes at times, but only when someone she cares for is in danger.

She's always getting into scraps with some sort of Pokémon or one of the grunts.

Usually it ends up with her getting hurt in some fashion such as a scratch or a bite or bruise.

She can handle it though, it's nothing!

Eclipse likes to snark that she's reckless. It's part of her nature. She's reckless, but she's a tough girl.

She's always telling Guzma she's gunna battle Golisopod one day. This girl doesn't have any Pokémon though, what a dumb idea!

Eclipse doesn't care if Golisopod is a bug type - her weakness. She wants to square up with him.

Sometimes she tries her little fighting escapades with Plumeria, but she's not as likely to entertain her antics.

After a while, Guzma just gives an exasperated sigh or raised eyebrow when Eclipse comes back with a bloody nose or new scratch somewhere on her body.

Sometimes getting Eclipse out of bed is a whole chore. Some mornings she has her fun, other mornings it's more of her emotional/trauma issues.

On the mornings she's just being silly, Eclipse will ask for a smooch, or ask for Guzma's jacket. Generally some sort of bargaining to get her ass out of bed.

Often times Guzma threatens to drag her out by her fucking ankles.

Before he knows, Eclipse will pull a little complaint that the shady house is cold and that she could either stay under the covers or if she had a nice jacket to use… sometimes he gives it to her, sometimes he carries her out of bed.

Not really cold though, it's Alola, after all. Hot and humid. Gross.

After Guzma finds out her little secret, the "it's cold outside" trick doesn't work anymore. He'll snark about her coat and tell her to get up. She still begs for his jacket.

Other mornings though, it's hard for her to get out of bed. Those mornings are the ones where she has home on her mind. She's thinking about her old life and her friends.

Guzma offers words of comfort and holds her for a while. Sometimes they just lay in silence. Just five more minutes. It helps her feel better.

Eclipse really appreciates it.

Eclipse loves playing with Guzma's hair. It's soft and fluffy, and Alola's humidity doesn't help with that. It's just so fun to play with.

She also loves it when Guzma lays his head in her lap. She could sit there for hours just playing with his hair while they're chilling in bed or in Malie Garden.

He likes the head scratches. Again, he's never gunna admit that, but it's so relaxing.

Eclipse absolutely knows he likes it and teases him about how she should be the one who likes to be scratched behind the ear.

At first though, Eclipse was hesitant to play with his hair. She noticed whenever he got frustrated, he would yank and pull at it. Was it a sort of stress relief or something? It took time for her to actually touch it. And when she did, she was gentle.

Guzma flinched at first - other than brushing (or trying to brush it), washing, or dying it, he wasn't used to treating his hair too kindly. Combine that with his past traumas… he wasn't expecting a gentle touch to his head.

Slowly though, he eased into it. The more she did it, the more he found himself enjoying her touch. She would take little tufts and roll them in her fingers to make individual little spikes, or just slowly run her fingers through it.

Of course Eclipse loves having her hair played with too. The two alternate with sitting with their heads in each others' laps.

One of Eclipse's favorite positions is sitting between his legs with her back against his stomach and her head against his chest.

Guzma will absentmindedly run his fingers through her hair and later on teasingly scratch behind her ear. Sometimes he'll catch the sound of a thumping tail and that puts a smirk on his face.

Plumeria has to teach him how to braid hair. Eclipse has a lot of it, but he didn't know how to braid. Like, at all. It looks so confusing!

So, he pulls Plumeria aside and begrudgingly asks her to teach him because he doesn't want to try it on Eclipse and mess up, or embarrass himself trying for the first time.

Eclipse loves the nickname 'lovebug'. It's her favorite. It's just so… him to call her that.

Of course being a bug type trainer, Guzma sort of absentmindedly called her that and it stuck.

Eclipse's face went just about as red as her hair before she got one of those dumb grins on her face.

"The hell you smiling like that for?"

"Didn't know you liked nicknames. I like that one. Keep using it."

She pecks him on the cheek and walks away before he can say anything else.

Eclipse calls Guzma 'boss' a lot, be it formally or teasingly.

The first time he called her that was when there was some odd bickering going on. The usual sass from Eclipse.

She finally relents on whatever it is they're scuffling about and replies with "sure thing, boss."

That. That little snark.

Eclipse had that smirk on her face again.

Guzma just about short-circuited.

She was part of team skull now so- so why did- why did her calling him 'boss' like that- was it the way she said it? Her tone?

Whatever, just- she's being a brat, just a snarky bitch. It's fine-

Spoilers - it's not fine and it flusters the boss.

Eclipse gets sick. Like, more than she should. And it doesn't help that it's raining all the damn time in Po Town.

She was born with a horrible immune system due to being a hybrid. Being a brand new species, she's essentially a test run that hasn't worked out all the errors in the code. And she's got a few errors. Her parents kept a very close eye on her as a pup to keep her as healthy as she could be.

To be fair they had no idea she would turn out the way she did.

Being a kid though, she still got into the usual germy things kids get into and she still got sick. Fighting off illnesses as a kid was hard for her. It left her bedridden for at least a week, usually more.

It steadily got better as she grew up and she doesn't get sick as often, but a cold can still knock her on her ass as an adult.

The first time she caught a cold in Po Town, Guzma thought she had a nasty case of the flu - high fever, shivers, a rough cough, she was very weak, the works. Seeing such a cocky, tough woman laid out by a little cold admittedly freaked him out a little.

At first he thought she was trying to get out of Team Skull duties for the day. Nope, this girl was sick.

Eclipse continued to insist it was just a cold, nothing she couldn't handle, but shit if she didn't look as pale as a ghost type. Eventually she had to explain she has a shit immune system and it's just how it is.

Guzma sends the grunts out for medical supplies from the nearest convenience store so she can recover.

Eclipse didn't take the medicine though, as much as she wanted to. She needed something Pokémon-grade, and she wasn't sure if human-grade medicine was safe for her to take. She just had to tough out the worst of it and continue to assure that she was going to be fine. It would just take some time.

Along with Eclipse's shit-fuck immune system, she can't have her own kids. It's something that just kills her a little on the inside.

Not that the shady house would be a great place for kids anyway. There's broken glass and other stuff laying around. It's a miracle the grunts haven't hurt themselves with everything laying around.

Eclipse's start with the grunts was pretty damn rocky at first. She started out as some stray that just wandered onto their turf.

There was some bickering amongst the grunts as to who left the door open to Po Town but let's worry about that later man we have a runt to catch.

Eclipse was called reckless and stupid for wandering onto Team Skull's grounds without a Pokémon of her own. And an umbrella. Maybe a rain coat too. Scarves don't do much to keep you dry.

Poor girl was soaked.

They were surprised to hear she didn't know much about Team Skull, but they were even more surprised that the boss just let her stay. She didn't seem like Team Skull material, at least not until she started getting a bit mouthy and snarky with their beloved boss.

Word traveled pretty fast there was a new body in the ranks of this bunch of misfits. Though, she was pretty tight lipped about where she came from and why she was there. Something about wandering for a while.

Plumeria had to watch the dumb kids to make sure they didn't get too mouthy with her.

After a while though, a fight broke out between them. A few grunts cornered Eclipse and after some bickering and mouthing from both sides, Eclipse is taking on their Pokémon barehanded. This girl is fucking crazy.

Guzma is pissed when he comes out and sees them picking on the newbie like this. He breaks up the fight and snatches Eclipse to drag her away to tend to her wounds.

Of course he gave an absolute earful to the grunts who picked on her and forced them to apologize to the newbie before he took her away.

Eclipse is apologizing the whole way up to wherever they're going, rambling about how this wasn't the grunts fault, she started it, she grew up with this kind of stuff, it's fine, really! The boss is dead quiet and just asks where they hurt her once they reach his room.

He starts giving her a rather soft but stern earful about how she shouldn't go around starting fights with the others. Eclipse replies that she's reckless, something she's said before. It was quiet, a weak attempt at lightening the mood between them. Guzma sighs and continues to clean up that nasty Yungoos bite and Eclipse whines at the antiseptic spray.

Other than the sting, Eclipse can't help but notice just how careful Guzma is while he's treating her wounds. He's super gentle with her and she's a little surprised. Though at the same time she didn't expect him to be rather rough either.

Guzma tells her that she's part of Team Skull now, and she is his responsibility now. Hearing that she was part of a team made her want to cry, in all honesty.

During the time when Eclipse was getting patched up is when she met Golisopod for the first time.

Eclipse is bewildered when she sees the big, lumbering bug Pokémon. He's a big guy, and he gives off this stoic silence. She's never seen a Pokémon like him before.

That is, until he asks why she's staring at him. Eclipse quickly apologies and looks away, and that's his first hint that she can actually understand him. Guzma doesn't notice anything though, he's too busy taking care of that Yungoos bite.

Once she's all patched up, the boss decides to take a nap in his chair and tells the lumbering bug to keep an eye on Eclipse so she doesn't get into any more trouble. Golisopod is tasked with keeping an eye on her.

This is when the bug strikes up conversation with her.

"You can understand me, can't you?"

"Eyuuup."

Guzma is a biter. Eclipse loves it. It's how he marks his territory.

Of course, Eclipse wasn't as eager to show off those bites on her neck and shoulders at first. The grunts didn't know about their little relationship, and Guzma knew they'd be rather thrown off by him romping with the newbie. Though he didn't really care in all honesty.

Eclipse is worried they'd see it as special treatment and all that. Guzma assures her if they give her shit, he'll take care of it.

She wears her scarf when they're around the grunts, but in public, she's more than happy to show them off.

To no one's surprise, Eclipse snarked at him when he was teasing her about it.

"You know how I mark my territory, right?"

"Spray paint?" queue that dumb little smirk of hers. Maybe an exasperated sigh or cocky smirk back from Guzma.

She bites back.

Speaking of spray paint, tagging places is a favorite pastime of Team Skull.

Usually they spray paint around Po Town (inside and outside) but occasionally they like to tag some places around Ula'Ula island.

Sometimes they spray paint inside the buildings in Po Town. Plumeria has to remind them to open the windows so they're not inhaling all those fumes.

Sometimes the team would take outings in small groups to go tag a specific place.

The first time Eclipse used a can of spray paint, she sprayed the little insignia she wears on her bag on the wall. A PokeBall with wings. It's under the main stairs in the shady house.

A few of the grunts have seen it, but they don't really question it.

They're actually pretty chill about not painting over other people's work. They know how to share a canvas.

He's also protective as hell. No one touches his love bug or they're getting decked. Either that or smashed by one of his Pokémon.

Despite knowing how to handle herself, Eclipse doesn't mind her boss tailing her like a bodyguard. She finds it pretty cute.

Mostly he's keeping an eye on her to make sure she doesn't get into trouble, but it's nice to spend time with her too.

Of course there's a lot of whispering around the towns about how this rough and tough boss ended up with someone. Was that possible?

She seems so nice compared to the Team Skull boss, too. Always making sure to say 'please' and 'thank you', not trying to pick fights (most of the time), things like that.

Eclipse notices the stares and whispers, but notes that Guzma is ignoring them as if they're not happening.

Was he used to this?

She wasn't used to the odd looks yet, before she met him she was worried about getting weird glances. It takes her some time but eventually she starts to ignore them. People are more bewildered at the pair than they were about her.

Eclipse isn't the best cook, but she tries her best.

All the cooking was done by her friend back home, Sugar. She made all the dinners and lunches for the guild.

Eclipse can still make basic stuff but nothing extravagant or with too many steps.

It doesn't help that she can't read the labels or instructions. Damn human language being the same spoken-wise but not written-wise.

She has to go off pictures and scents for the most part.

She has learned to make pancakes though, she really likes them.

Any time she makes them, there's always a few grunts that want some too. So she starts making extra whenever she makes some for herself.

There's a shop in Malie City that has really good fluffy pancakes. Sometimes Eclipse begs for Guzma to take her for a late morning breakfast.

Vinepede

That stupid little bug refused to let her go after she rescued him from a clutter of Ariados.

Eclipse and Guz were heading back from a date in Malie Garden one night when she catches the sound of someone crying out for help. Guz hadn't heard anything, he doesn't have those sharp ears like she does.

The pause, that stillness she had like a Boltund catching a scent made Guzma stop and give her a weird look.

"Uh... you good?"

She fuckin' bolts off into the trees and completely drops her leftovers from dinner. Woops. Guz chases off after her but it took no time at all for him to lose sight of her.

Eclipse finds a Vinepede with one of his tails stuck in a web and there are some hungry looking Ariados making their way down the web. He's yelling for help and Eclipse is the one to come to his rescue.

After a small scuffle, Eclipse rescues him and Guzma and Golisopod come through the treeline. He's barking at her about running off without him and asking what the hell she was thinking. She explains what was going on and how she didn't want the little guy to be eaten up.

She goes to head back to the boss' side but she feels something grab her leg.

It's the little guy.

Oh hell no.

Guzma asks what the plan is and if she has a Pokeball to take him with since Vinepede clearly wants to come with her.

She starts sputtering that absolutely not, she does not do Pokemon partnership.

All the while Guz pulls a Pokeball off his belt, walks over to her, and plops it into her hand.

Before she can say anything, Vinepede scurries up her leg and proceeds to wiggle himself in the ball in her hand.

... wtf just happened.

Guzma, in the meantime, is thinking about the time he met Golispod. The little Wimpod had taken it upon himself to cower behind the boy's leg after he had been saved from a flock of Spearow looking to beat up the little Isopod Pokemon.

It reminded him of that time. And Eclipse seemed like she needed a partner.

Eclipse is not happy about this at first. She's not aggressive towards the Vinepede, but she is slightly off-put by having a companion again.

She very slowly warms up to it. Takes some time though.

Also Eclipse promised to pay for breakfast the next morning since they both dropped their leftovers after she took off running and Guz ran after her.

Plumeria

If anyone fucks with Team Skull, they're fucking with Plumeria too. They often refer to her as their 'Big Sis'.

Those are her little brothers and sisters. Sure, they can be dumb… but they're family.

She's not one to back down from beating on anyone who messes with these numbskulls.

Sometimes she has to end some scraps or save them from getting roughed up by the locals. She gives the grunts an earful but mostly tells them to be more careful and patches them up.

She supervises sometimes on tagging days. The grunts will go out and spray paint a few places, and sometimes she gets in on it. She has a little bit of an artistic side to her.

Plumes is the one to dye the grunts hair for those who want it if they don't know how. Guzma may have botched one or two before referring the grunts to her. She fixed it in the end, though.

She is also the only one Guzma can confide in for his personal issues and his past, other than Eclipse.

She'll stand with Guzma through thick and thin, and assures wherever he'll go, she'll go too.

The first time Eclipse is trying to be friendly with some of the grunts is when she meets Plumeria for the first time. They had gotten especially noisy and Plumes has to tell them to pipe down or else they'll wake the boss. Of course she's met with enthusiasm before the grunts disperse to do whatever they usually do around the shady house.

She explains the whole concept of the Island Trials and Kahunas and what not to Eclipse.

Kinda weird this girl's been in Alola for a bit but doesn't know what they are…

She explains that Guzma had tried the Island Trials along with professor Kukui. He continued to fail, so he gave up and formed his own team of rejects that failed the island challenges. That's how Team Skull was formed.

She briefly mentions a bit of Guzma's past with his father, but doesn't go into too much detail. Eclipse doesn't like what she hears though.

Eclipse asks about Aether, and Plumeria explains how they're trying to do good by offering Pokémon rehabilitation and care centers alongside their research, but their president… she's got a few screws loose.

Plumes asks where Eclipse comes from, and she gives her the schpiel how she came from Orre, some dusty place a ways off. Not much too it.

The two get along pretty well. Eventually Plumes let it slip that Guzma asked her to learn how to braid hair for Eclipse's sake. Eclipse is thrown off, but she thanks Plumes for the gesture.

Eclipse's own parental relations is a stark contrast compared to Guzma's.

Eclipse loves her parents. If anyone asks, she'd go on about how her parents are wonderful, the best anyone could ever ask for.

She'd remark how she felt like she had a second pair of parents because of their Pokémon - a Lycanroc and a Zoroark. Her mom has a Lycanroc, and her dad has the Zoroark. Of course, this is just an excuse to talk about them without arousing suspicion.

She's been around Pokémon since the day she was born, it's why she feels she has such a deep connection to them and she feels she gets along better with them than people. (Technically not a lie)

Her parents were supportive of her dreams and ambitions while she grew up. They took care of her the best they could and raised her to be a headstrong girl. So did their Pokémon.

Of course those times where she got sick still worried them to Giratina's hell and back.

Eclipse always seems a bit sad though when she's asked about how they're doing now, or why she's with Team Skull and not them if they're so amazing.

She remarks how they deserve better than her with how her reputation back home is now. She's done things she's not proud of, and she wouldn't blame her parents for being embarrassed of having a daughter like her. They probably don't speak about her anymore, if they act like she never existed she would understand.

What she did though, she doesn't get into. Just some 'fucked up shit', stuff she certainly wished she could undo. But she's learned trying to undo things can get you in more trouble than when you started.

Despite what she imagines they're probably thinking about her, she at least hopes they're doing alright. She misses them a lot.

Eclipse is always looking over her shoulder whenever she's outside the walls of Po Town. Her ears are always perked and her nose is constantly trying to sniff out any scents that just seem too clean and sterile.

The Aether Foundation received reports late one night that an Ultra Wormhole had possibly opened again over Ula' Ula Island. This was a few months past the issue of the Ultra Beasts invading Alola, so it was very odd to hear of another opening.

This one notably doesn't look the same as an Ultra Wormhole. This one is a bit more similar to a phenomenon recorded in Sinnoh years ago.

Lusamine tasks Faba with the research, and the two gather as much information as possible.

Faba comes to find that something came out of that hole in the sky that night and it landed somewhere on Ula' Ula island. A research team is dispersed early the next day to try and find it.

The search team isn't able to find much, but they make note of some footprints and what seems to be broken branches from a possible landing sight. A rainstorm had passed though the area before they could reach it, so there was very little chance of finding a DNA sample.

For the next few months, the team can only go off of blurred pictures they manage to capture, but it was only so long before this creature seemed to disappear off the face of the earth. Not a sign of it anywhere. Where did it go?

What data they could collect was that it wasn't much smaller than the average person. Maybe about 5 feet tall. Lots of red fur. And it can use illusions.

It was hurt as well, it seemed the UB arrived in their world with a pretty nasty wound on its side. What caused it though, they could only guess. Blurred photographs depicted… bandages around its midriff?

Perhaps it is more intelligent than they thought.

It didn't take long for this UB to figure out it was being followed. It became much more scarce and hard to track before it vanished.

Though, after some time, a report from Lusamine gives Faba some information. A woman has been spotted with the Team Skull boss of all people, and her hair is strikingly similar to their UB.

Recalling the UB can use illusions, Faba and Lusamine wonder if this is what they're searching for. An Ultra Beast integrating into human society…?

Faba is tasked with obtaining a DNA sample to confirm this woman isn't human, and a rather perfect string of events not long after leaves a blood sample in his hands.

This UB and one of the grunts of Team Skull have an outing just past Ula' Ula meadow. It just so happens to be near a pack of Midday Lycanroc that call the area home.

These wolf Pokémon can sense something new is in their territory, and a scuffle leaves the supposed UB injured. Faba is able to recover a blood sample after the UB and grunt flee the area.

Faba has to test the sample multiple times because the results just don't make sense. They are given the information that yes, this woman isn't human as they thought.

However, it doesn't appear to be an Ultra Beast either.

It's a Pokémon. A hybrid to be exact. Half Lycanroc, half Zoroark. Faba has to confirm no Midnight Lycanroc are in the pack they have been monitoring, and no sightings have been reported of Zoroark in the area. This rules out the possibility of a contaminated sample.

Things start to make a bit more sense after another look at the photographs, at least what can be made out from the blurry images.

Though, this raises many questions.

How did it come to their world? How did such a genetic anomaly come to happen? Just how intelligent is it if it can live among humans? What caused the injury it came here with? What is it like in its home world?

Does Guzma know the woman he's with is a Pokémon hiding as a human?

Eclipse not only has to protect herself, but she has to protect a residual power she carried from home.

This power is something that clings to her, residual energy she absorbed from the Time Gears.

These artifacts regulate the flow of time in her home lands. By taking them in attempts to complete her goals, she unknowingly absorbs some of their energy and is later able to manipulate time for very short periods.

Not only this, but this energy allows her to access a sort of hidden form. A Dusk Form of herself. This is an actual physical form unlike her illusions. This form is faster and more limber.

However, using this power is taxing on her energy. She can only access this power or form for short periods of time.

She knows if the power was somehow taken from her, it could be disastrous if it fell into the wrong hands.

This is another reason she does her best to steer clear of the Aether Foundation.

Eclipse struggles with nightmares from time to time. Guzma is usually woken by her and he does his best to calm her down.

Usually he's woken by the sounds of whimpers or crying, sometimes she's shifting around on the bed enough to wake him. Sometimes she's got a death grip on him.

Holding her usually helps after he carefully wakes her up. Seeing the terror in her eyes after they snap open does worry him, but he tugs her close and whispers that everything is okay.

Eclipse never tells him what she's dreaming about. Any attempt only causes tears to well up and she chokes, despite her efforts to hide it.

There was one time though, one time Guzma couldn't explain. Eclipse was fidgeting during another nightmare and he reached over and tried to shake her awake. Though, he froze as something flashed in front of his eyes when he touched her - a bright pair of red eyes, red-tipped black tendrils gripping… something red. It was blurry and it all happened so quickly.

Guzma blinked and tried to reason that he was still half asleep. He shook Eclipse awake and she shot up, a hand around her throat as the noise that came from her was definitely one of terror.

He soothes her and pulls her close, trying to calm her down from the dream. Soft whispers and rubbing her back as he presses soft kisses to her head and cheeks.

Because of this power and her interactions with the Time Gears, Eclipse has a heightened sense of detecting sort of abnormalities in the area around her.

Ula' Ula island has a meadow, and not too far from the meadow is the Lake of the Moone/Sunne

Eclipse senses some sort of energy radiating from this place, but she can't figure out what or why. Perhaps it's a place of worship?

It gives her a familiar tingle, much like the same kind of energy she felt when approaching a Time Gear.

Guzma's favorite drink is hot Tapu Cocoa. The grunts usually know to leave some for him, but sometimes they get a little greedy and end up leaving barely anything for Guzma. Of course he gives them an earful for this and sends one of them off to go pick up more.

Because of this, Guzma keeps a pack or two of Tapu Cocoa powder (the good shit, a better version of the instant stuff) hidden away in the kitchen for himself that the grunts won't find.

However, a certain human disguised Pokémon still has one hell of a nose and sniffs it out late one night. She has her companion Pokémon at this point, a little Vinepede she rescued from a group of Ariados.

"No I'm not allergic to chocolate, that's an old Pokémon's tale."

Eclipse is perched up on the counter and enjoying the hot drink when Guzma wanders in after waking up and wondering where his lovebug had gone off to so late at night.

He catches a little bit of conversation between Eclipse and her Vinepede, but he's too tired to register that she was talking with a Pokémon of all things. She's weird, it's late, whatever.

It was like 3 in the morning and he had woken up to an empty bed. He was worried she had been woken up by another nightmare or went to sit outside on the front steps again.

Instead, he finds her in the kitchen drinking from his hidden stash of Tapu Cocoa. He's too tired to be miffed about it, instead he just makes himself a cup and leans on the counter beside her to relax with her before they go back to bed.

There's a little bit of small talk mixed in here and there as they sit in the kitchen.

Of course he tells her not to touch it again and they can get her some of her own from town in the morning. Or afternoon. Whenever they wake up.

Something still nags at the back of his sleepy brain about her talking so casually with her Pokémon.

The tattoos Guzma and Plumeria have are fake.

People really think kids/teens/young adults who don't work/have no income think they can afford tattoos?

Yeah they get some money during their alliance with the Aether Foundation, but it's mostly just enough for food and to keep some of the lights on. Something to keep Guzma and his band of misfits working for Lusamine.

Not enough for something pricey like forearm and stomach tattoos.

Nah, they're just make up.

Also explains how Guz and Plumes don't have them post Sun/Moon/how they didn't have them so quickly.

Plus tattoo removals are also costly. Money Team Skull/post disbanded Team Skull doesn't have.

If Eclipse were to get one, she'd have it between her shoulder blades on her back. Something rarely seen and personal to herself.

Eclipse snags Guzma's jacket any chance she can get. It's baggy and comfortable!

It smells like him too. Eclipse is big on scents.

Like really big on scents.

Sometimes the boss catches her with her nose buried in that scarf of her’s.

The jacket is cozy and comfortable and any time Guzma doesn't have it, it's probably on Eclipse.

The first time she snatched it was when he left it on the throne while he bathed. He went to bed without it and Eclipse snatched it before joining him. He woke up in the morning to see her wearing it and he was in reluctant awe.

She did look… a little cute in it. Just a little.

She's an absolute fucking brat about giving it back; offers to give it back for a kiss, asks what he's gunna do about it, dares him to take it from her himself, etc.

They scuffle for it, and that usually ends up with Guz on top of her.

Leering down at her while she's got her fingers around that gold chain, gently tugging him down for a kiss.

“Give it back.”

“Gunna have to get it off me yourself~”

MMMMM Chin Scragglies

Guz sometimes doesn't shave off all his stubble on his face. He leaves a little bin on his chin and it that doesn't leave Eclipse swooning a bit.

She loves it when he hugs her from behind and he nuzzles into the crook of her shoulder and her neck or leaves kisses on her shoulder (or bites on her neck)

The scratching tickles a bit and she just loves it.

He does the little tickle nuzzle thing on purpose to make her laugh.

Eclipse can take Guzma's jacket, but she's a total hypocrite and she doesn't let anyone touch her scarf.

Clearly this scarf means a lot to her, but she never says just why. She's pretty tight lipped about it, not even Guzma knows why for a while.

Once she lost it somewhere in the shady house and nearly had a breakdown over it. Guzma was pretty worried to find Eclipse making an even bigger mess of his bedroom trying to find the damn thing.

She was on the verge of tears at that point and snapped at him and the grunts that she needed that scarf back.

One of the grunts eventually finds it and if Eclipse didn't damn near take their hand with her when she snatched it back.

It's like a security blanket for her, even more than the boss' jacket. It's hers. No one is allowed to touch it, and Guzma doesn't try to wear it because it's not his style anyway.

Eclipse takes in a little kid and her Mimikyu after the two cause a bit of trouble for a couple of the grunts.

When the two return to Po Town after an outing, Guzma overhears a few of the grunts talking about how some bratty kid snatched Tonya's favorite apple snacks while they were walking through town.

The convenience store in Malie City is the only place on the island that has those snacks, and it's a long walk!

Tonya's griping and huffy about the whole thing and Guzma asks what's up. Eclipse can't help but snort a little that a kid ran by and swiped her snacks.

After some explaining, they find out there's some kid that's been stealing food and other things around the city with her Mimikyu. She's probably about 8 or so.

It's been going on for a couple months now but oddly enough the kid just… vanishes before she can be caught.

During an outing to Malie City for some groceries for the shady house, one of Eclipse's bags is snatched by a kid and her Mimikyu. Guzma goes to yell after her, but Eclipse recognizes it instantly.

The kid is a Zorua.

Eclipse warns him to not chew her out and the two go after her. Just like before, the kid and her Pokémon are just gone.

She sniffs them out though, and the pair are found munching on their freshly stolen goods. Seems they've been living off what food they can steal.

The girl's name is Mimi and the Mimikyu's name is Mimsy.

Quotes:

Eclipse:

"I know they say time heals all wounds, but…why do I still feel like I'm bleeding out?"

"Yeah I said I had fought gods. I never said I won. Well- er, I didn't win all the fights, but I won some!"

(To a Stakataka, probably) "Square up, you stack of shit!"

"Sorry, I'm too busy. Got stuff to do." (Guzma, either in the background or beside her) "I'm stuff."

"Reckless, crazy bitch - what's the difference?"

"Not trying to belittle your dumbfuckery, but I've done worse."

"I'd like to make it clear to everyone present that I am severely unmedicated, so if you have a problem take it up with my fucking therapist."

"I'm measuring the difference between jack shit and fuck all!"

Guzma:

"You fuck with any grunt on Team Skull, you fuck with me."

"Yeah, some of them might be idiots, but they're my idiots."

"No, Plumes got custody of (grunt name here) that weekend. How it works around here."

"Legal? Yeah, it's a hundred percent legal! …ish."

"I'm your favorite idiot, huh?"

"I know if I wanted a kiss I just had to ask, but I'm tryin' to be cute. Can't blame ya boy for tryin', can you?"

"Aight Eclipse, I know you got my jacket. Where you hidin'?"

"Hey, I see you eyeballin' my jacket all the time. I know you want it."

"I swear I can't take you anywhere without you gettin' into some sort of trouble! I'm this close to puttin' your ass on a leash! …. No, no, wipe that smirk off your face, you damn demon."

Random BS:

Eclipse would be one to scroll for hours on end on social media. Quotes specific vines and tiktoks when the chance presents itself. She doesn't have a phone though so-

It's the grunts fault, mostly.

The team plays Mario Kart on the dingy old TV in the downstairs living quarters. Eclipse is shit at it at first, but she manages to learn pretty quick and woops everyone's ass at it.

Only other person who can match her is Plumeria.

Butts - Guzma gropes, Eclipse slaps. It's a little back and forth they have going on after a while.

If Eclipse and Guzma were to play Animal Crossing, they would share a single save file. Guzma catches the bugs and Eclipse does literally everything else.

I promise I'll get the normal Guzma headcanons out at some point, I went to pull some headcanons from this list and it was all down hill from there, sorry-

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