#now i just gotta get around to doing this for the rest of my verses and we'll be set )

[sylleblosscm]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ – v: au: can i dream for a few months more? / insomnia

An AU in which, after the invasion of Tenebrae, Lunafreya is brought back to Insomnia and grows up in the Amicitia household.

   (Many of the details of this verse are flexible for the sake of different threads; ie, the age Luna is when she is rescued, who she ends up with in the end, whether Ravus is taken too, and whether Regis also survives the raid on the citadel. However, what follows is the broad strokes of the story that will usually be referred back to by default. I’ve aged Luna down to 8 at the time of the invasion by default because I want classmate shenanigans, and who’s gonna stop me? And of course, this entire verse wouldn’t exist without @oldamicitia​ being a terrible influence on me, so. Thank you 🤍)

 During the Empire’s attack on Tenebrae meant to target the visiting Lucian royalty, King Regis manages to keep a hold of Lunafreya’s hand. With no other choice left to them, she is whisked away from the chaos to Insomnia, where she lives out the rest of her childhood.

 For some time, Luna’s future remains up in the air. There is no safe passage by which she might return, no way to send her home. While the matter of who should bear the responsibility for her upbringing remains unclear, Luna is sent to stay in the Amicitia household temporarily - the rationale being that Clarus’ time in Tenebrae has given him a rapport with the Princess, and surely there is no safer place for her to be within Insomnia’s walls, aside from the Citadel itself. 

 Beyond her flourishing friendship with Noctis and her instant adoration for Clarus’ then-three-year-old daughter Iris, Luna remains deeply affected and withdrawn, keeping mostly to herself at first. Slowly, over time, she begins to warm up to Clarus as they bond over their mutual love of tea and general sleeplessness. By the time the selection process has narrowed down for Luna’s long-term accommodations, she is as settled as one can possibly be. So upon hearing that there is indeed still such a process, she becomes incredibly distressed and asks to remain where she is. It is around this time that she begins referring to Clarus as Papa.

  At this point, the only Amicitia Luna has yet to bond with is Gladiolus, who she has given a wide berth. It is no comment on him (in fact, she is certain that she would like him very much given the chance); rather, it is an expression of her own guilt about leaving Ravus behind. Eventually, however, she begins making small efforts with him, too.

 During her years growing up in Insomnia, Luna becomes stronger, more outspoken and more confident than her canon counterpart. What she lacks in her Oracle training, she makes up for with various other skills. She is an exemplary student and active within the community, earning herself a somewhat darling reputation in the public eye. Those who know her well are familiar with her passion and tenacity, and her boundless determination to make life better for those around her. Her childhood from then on is mostly a happy one.

 Eventually Luna is given special leave to return to Tenebrae to begin her training proper. Once she is of age, she returns to her homeland wherein she throws herself into learning as quickly as possible, what she otherwise might have had years to study. 

 Soon enough, the peace treaty between Lucis and Nifleheim is brokered, and Luna’s hand is promised to her own highschool sweetheart. Suspicious of the suddenness of it all, rather than head directly to Altissia as ordered, Luna instead travels back to Insomnia, arriving the very eve of the signing ceremony.

 Before she can so much as greet her adoptive father all hell breaks loose, and he is killed in service to his King. A grief-stricken Luna dons the Ring of the Lucii and finds herself with a mysterious power no Oracle before her has seen. She rushes to her father’s body and in her desperate pleading for him to wake, inadvertently brings him back from the dead - at a cost. She falls into a coma and does not wake for some months, only learning once she does just how close she’d come to losing her life. At Clarus’ behest she promises to never again utilize such a dangerous power.  

 From there, she is free to pursue her duty, making at once for Altissia to reunite with Noctis and return the Ring to him. Once Noctis is pulled within the Crystal, Luna spends most of the Long Night shepherding refugees to Lestallum and preparing for the arrival of the Chosen King. 

 Noctis is forced to give his life to dispel the darkness, and Luna - who had known nothing of the cost demanded of him before this - breaks her ten-year promise by putting on the Ring and, in an act of direct defiance towards Bahamut himself who orders her to desist, attempts to resurrect her beloved. She is successful, but as punishment, her gift of healing is renounced and the future of the Oracle line is thrown into question.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

HOBIE BROWN | SPIDER-PUNK (atsv)

─────────────────

─────────────────

“Brand New Metal” (Hobie Brown & Fem!Reader)

| Hobie helps you pierce your nose.

| SFW, piercing description, needles

| Featuring almost the entirety of my own piercing experience. (Pic source: Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023) movie)

You pull away for what feels like the hundredth time in five minutes and Hobie’s hand moves outta the way even faster, barely a blur of movement before it’s back within his bubble of space.

“C’mon, Mama, I can’t do this if you keep jumpin’ away from me.”

You shift in place where your butt is planted beside the hard water stained sink. Shoulders dropping you rub your hands down your face.

“I know that,” you grumble.

Problem was, knowing barely qualified as a quarter of the issue, and whoever said knowing was half the battle clearly hadn’t been staring down the point of the thickest needle you’d ever seen in person.

You wave your hand to the metal rod with a grimace. “But look at the size of that thing, Hobes. That’s gotta be overkill.”

Hobie’s accent seems to get thicker as he hits you with a deadpan tone, full brows shading his eyes.

“This’s a twenty gauge needle. I’ve seen you ’old your guts inside you and still make time to bash in some fascists, this’s nothin’.”

In response you flip him off but Hobie - perfectly unfazed - only starts twirling the needle around two latex glad fingers.

His own piercings - of which there were plenty - glint off of the dim yellow lighting of his bathroom like a taunt. Or at least it feels like that to you.

“Look, I already told you piercings ain’t some crucial part of the scene, Mama. You don’t have ta do any of this. It’s all just boxes and labels, the lot of it,” Hobie points the blunt side of the needle at you. “And you know I hate labels.”

“Yeah, Hobes, the whole of Camden knows. Besides, I want it cause I think it looks nice not cause of capitalism’s agenda to make us buy shit instead of looking at whatever human right of the day they’re doing away with,” you shrug and Hobie’s mouth twists to the side for a second before he’s shrugging too.

“Great. Point’s been made then. Pick a struggle.”

“Fuck your struggle,” you frown. “It’ll hurt.”

“Hn,” he scoffs and shakes his head. He’s giving you this narrow look like he’d let you keep this back and forth up for the rest of the day without any complaints though. “Fake ones exist for a reason.”

“Fake ones won’t give me the satisfaction of a real piercing though.”

“The lie that we need to feel pain in order to be worthy of livin’ is also capitalistic propaganda, Luv.”

Now it’s your turn to give him a look; face dropping and one brow rising.

Hobie chuckles.

“Fine.” He grins, sharp. “We both know I know exactly what it is you’re sayin’. I just can’t tell if being an accomplice to yer masochism is fair to me.”

“You wouldn’t deny a woman her creative outlet, would you?”

“S’pose not,” Hobie agrees, taking another alcohol swab and disinfecting the needle again for extra measure.

He eyes you up and down and you smile, fluttering your lashes at him and kicking your heels into his cabinet doors. You needed Hobie to be the one to do this. For one, because you were not going to be able to do this yourself, and for two, because he was really the only person you trusted to puncture a literal hole in your body.

You take a deep breath, now if only you could chill the hell out.

Hobie shakes his head, wicks flopping around and knocking into each other languidly.

“Yer one ‘elluva reluctant participant to this for someone agreein’ they’re a masochist,” he nods to the needle while brandishing it like a knife. He knows you're full of shit, but he’s not about to make your decision for you. “You gotta stop flinching every time light just glints off the needle if you really want this.”

You lock eyes with him, sitting up to your full height and trying not to back away from the metal rod. “Maybe I’m just waiting for the adrenaline rush to kick in.”

“Pretty sure that happens after the pain, yeh?

A huff and your fingers curl over the edge of the counter and squeeze.

“Just…get it over with, Hobie.” You take a deep breath. “Please?”

“Alright alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Hobie eases a hand around your jaw and raises the needle. “You know I’ve got you. Now keep still.”

Another deep breath from you and Hobie meets your eye for a second time.

“On three,” he grunts. With your head in his grasp you can’t physically nod so you use your eyes to convey your agreement.

Hobie takes a breath to start the countdown and you inhale with him. You’ve gotten your ears pierced before, you could do this. It was fine. Plus you’ll have a few seconds to prep yourself before he gets to number three. You got this. You both exhale.

“Three,” he states.

Without a second to spare the needle pierces through the squishy cartilage of your nose and your breath catches in your throat. Instantly tears well in your eyes and your face heats up something fierce - like somebody’s holding a blow dryer on the highest setting up to it with zero mercy. Your joints pop, grasp on the counter growing tighter in your attempt to keep yourself from jerking out of Hobie’s hold. The sheer need to not garner an actual injury from the metal is almost solely what keeps you in place.

This wasn’t like an ear piercing at fucking all. Fuck this septum piercing and fuck Hobie too. What the fuck?

“Ow! You motherfucker!”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! I only wrote his accent clearly some of the time; you’ll have to forgive me. I was confusing my damn self, okay? I did my best.

Also what I said about how adrenaline works isn’t really correct so don’t take that as gospel.

Edit: Had this labeled gn!reader on accident at first y’all, that’s my bad. Sorry for any confusion.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

[auteurdelabre]

Something to Fight For (series) Part 13

Word Count: 8.0K

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions) Tommy x Maria (yay!) / Tess x Joel (temporary) / Bill x Frank (forever)

Warnings: Smuuuuuuuut. Spoilers: thigh riding, dirty talk, female orgasm, Joel's a giver.

A/N: This is part of a sweeter series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joe

“An old favorite,” Paul says with a charming smile. “Maria will love it.”

You and Paul are at his place sitting on the sofa facing one another. Paul has his guitar resting on his lap and he's strumming the first few bars to "Always on my Mind". He's decided that Maria and Tommy would love this at the wedding; a little impromptu reunion of the band. 

“What about Tommy?” you pose, feeling strange about the whole thing. “He wasn’t even around to see us play before.”

“Oh he’ll get on board,” Paul says with confidence.

"I haven't sung it in so long," you say, your nerves building as you think about singing in public again. "I don't really think I wanna do it, Paul."

"It's the perfect song for a wedding." Paul insists, strumming the guitar a little more loudly. "Now c'mon, we only have a few weeks to get it right."

He sets off into the first verse, his voice clear and melodic before he prompts you with a raise of his brows. 

This is the part of Paul you didn't miss.

The pressing. 

Even when you didn't want to sing at the bars some nights all those years ago, he'd insist. You'd stand up there, your heart hammering as you gazed out into the crowd. But then Paul would be at your side with his guitar over his shoulder squeezing your hip and whispering that you sounded amazing, that everyone loved it and that you needed to keep going. He'd never force you, never threaten. He'd just wear you down to the point where it was easier to just give in. 

And you would. 

The only time you'd refused Paul anything was the night he told you he was ending things. After your big blow out where you told him in no uncertain terms that you weren't leaving your job to run off with he and Jack to tour. 

You'd been devastated. The anguish you'd felt you'd packed in a rush, holding in your sniffles even when Paul begged you to reconsider. That heavy sadness when Paul watched you leave the apartment, telling you that it was a mistake.

You frown at the memory now, those same feelings of anxiety spreading through your body. 

"C'mon," Paul urges you in a voice heavy with love for you. "This is your part, baby."

And as you always did back then, you nod and you relent.

///

"Hey friend," comes Joel's smiling voice at the end of the phone the next day. "Any chance you have a minute?"

You glance at the mountain of paperwork on your desk at the humane society and a smile moves over your features at the request. "Always."

You can hear Joel crawling into the seat of his truck, closing his door to the sound of the work site drilling and hammering. 

"Good. I wanted your advice about Sarah's birthday party." Joel's voice is thoughtful. "I know it's gotta be toads and purple but that's where I'm stuck. When I asked her she just mentioned she wanted McDonalds. Doesn't care about anything else."

"Not everything has to be toads," you reason with a smile and a laugh. "Why not ... McDonalds and mini golf? That new course just opened up and I bet Sarah would love it."

"That's a good idea," Joel agrees, and you can imagine him nodding. "Didn't think of that." 

Tess ' words come back to you sharp and unexpected.

Maybe you could back off a little bit with Sarah? Just for a bit. Just until I can wedge myself in there, ya know?

How are you giving her room to bond with Sarah if you're doing this? You're practically planning Sarah's birthday party like you’re her mother or something. There's an acute tug at your heart at that thought before you sober. 

"What did Tess say?"

"Huh?"

"When you asked her about this," you say motioning to the air in front of you. "What was her idea?"

There is a stretch of quiet. You can hear Joel's fingers strumming the wheel. 

"I, uh, haven't asked her yet," Joel finally recovers. "You've known Sarah longer so I thought I'd ask you first."

"Oh right. Well, Tess really likes Sarah," you say, holding in a wince. "I bet she'd have lots of good ideas."

The conversation is suddenly awkward and stilted. You both find reasons to end the call that have everything and nothing to do with your respective jobs. 

The gap begins. 

///

At the end of your shift you're surprised to see Tommy in the parking lot of your building. He’s leaning against the back like something out of a teen girl’s magazine. He gives you a sweet smile when you approach.

“Was heading to Maria’s and thought you’d wanna lift.”

You had no desire to take the bus home tonight; you’re exhausted from all this sanctuary planning. You shoot him a thankful smile.

“You’re the best,” you enthuse, bringing yourself up into the truck’s bench seat. You stow your purse at your feet, buckling in as Tommy starts the truck up. You give a wave to Alex as you pull out of the lot and onto the winding road home.

Tommy and Joel are peas in a pod when it comes to music. You try to change it to a pop station before Tommy shoots you a meaningful look and switches the dial back to 92.5 CountryJamFM.

“Jesus,” you mock as the first straining guitar ballad begins. “Just as bad as your brother.”

“Really?” Tommy is smiling widely.

“Yep. I gave him shit for the exact same thing.”

“Not surprised. Our mom was always sayin’ I copied everything Joel did when we were kids,” Tommy laughs. “I thought he was the coolest person on earth. Always wanted to do everything he did, listen to the same bands, drink the same beer. Guess some of it stuck.”

You’re imagining the two young brown-eyed boys (one a little older, a little more serious), laughing and playing in forests and building tree forts. When you think of the Miller brothers it’s always out in nature, wild and unfettered

“That’s actually really sweet,” you say with a smile. “Joel never really talks about your parents.”

“Not a shock. Neither’s around anymore.” Tommy looks grim and you immediately regret saying anything about to apologize but then Tommy gets a faraway look in his eyes.  “You know when we were younger, and our Mom was sick, Joel quit school?”

“What?” this surprises you. “Where was your dad?”

“Left years before. I don’t even remember what he looked like.”

Tommy is frowning now and you’re trying to formulate the whirring thoughts in your head. You’re surprised by so much of what is happening. You and Tommy have never had a great many deep conversations. You know so little Joel’s history.

“I thought Joel said he didn’t do well in school. Said he only enjoyed shop.”

“Nah, not true,” Tommy says with a shake of his head. “He was really smart, ‘specially in English classes. He only left so he could get a job and support us. Construction place near our house was hiring.”

You sit in the seat next to Tommy and mull over your time with Joel realizing that while he was so determined to learn more of you, you were more passive, taking in the information in crumbs when he offered them. You have a heavy regret that settles into your tummy with this information Tommy is sharing.

“And then I grow up, smokin’ weed in bathrooms and getting’ into bar fights and there’s Joel comin’ to rescue me every time. I barely graduated and then I couldn’t keep a job. And then Joel had this construction company, something he built from the ground up. ‘Course Joel hired me and now my life is better than it ever could be but only because of my brother.” Tommy shakes his head, his eyes still peeled on the road but glassy. “Sometimes I feel guilty, like I stole Joel’s future from him.”

You want to shake your head and assure Tommy that this couldn’t be the case. But the reality is you don’t know. You two lapse into silence as the drive continues but you can’t stop thinking about Joel and his childhood.

“Joel’s always been that way though.”

“What way?”

“Protector. Always wants to do what’s best for other people instead of himself. S'funny," Tommy says airily looking at the stretch of road in front of him. "I always thought you were a great match for my brother because you’re just the same."

Pure unfettered delight goes through your body like a drug. A tingling sensation that makes your cheeks flush and your mouth curl into a grin. Tommy thinks that? Tommy thinks you’re a good match for Joel?

All at once you realize you sober.

He thought that.

Past tense.

Because Joel is with Tess now. 

“It’s why I dragged him to trivia that night,” Tommy confesses with a shy grin. “Was hoping you two’d hit it off after that fucking abysmal first night.”

Your heart is thumping now. You wonder why Tommy is telling you this at all. 

"I was so sure something had happened between you two," Tommy adds before he can stop himself. “He came home from that Christmas party all excited and smiling and I thought ‘this is the Joel from when we were kids.’ Like he finally had something just for himself. Not for Sarah or for me.”

Joel’s words haunt you now, swirling in your mind and your heart.  The way he’d held you and kissed you and whispered those words.

I want you for my own.

And you know that Joel never meant it to possess you or own you. He wanted that carved space in his heart to be filled with something he didn’t have to share. Something that he could cherish and rely would still be there.

Tears are stinging your eyes and you blink them back furiously. Tommy slants a look at your down-turned face.

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Sure.”

“You really like that Paul guy?”

Tommy has a cringing look on his face, like he knows what he asked is over the line. He’s bracing himself for your ire or complete silence. You give him neither because you know Tommy isn’t asking to be cruel or prying. He’s asking, you realize, because he’s not really sure. 

And while you want to tell Tommy that yes, you do like Paul you also really, really like Joel. But you can’t help but think of Tess and her hopes for a future with him. You think of Paul and his desire to start a life together with you. You realize that wanting more is incredibly selfish so you give Tommy a small nod and smile.

“I do.”

///

Joel stands in front of his bathroom mirror and stares at himself. He's taken to doing this in recent weeks, but not for vanity's sake. He doesn't look at his hair or his body.  

He leans over the counter, his wide palms flat on the cool stone until his nose is inches from the mirror. There he keeps gaze with his own reflection until his mouth curls in disgust. 

"You're a piece of shit."

He reminds himself of this because no one else does. 

Being back in Frank and Bill's had done something to him. Sitting there in the scene of the crime. He'd made sure not to go past the studio door, terrified of what he'd do if he saw the same sofa you'd been entangled on. He was sure he'd feel the phantom touch of your hands in his hair and the way you'd looked at him that night. 

It stirred up not just feelings of lust but if overwhelming regret. Sadness that was so much more acute than loneliness had been. And this deep unrelenting guilt that he'd fucked up. 

He hadn't been able to keep himself from looking over at you during that visit, sneaking looks when you laughed. His own lips quirking in amusement when you did. Your arm had brushed against his as you shifted in your seat and he'd refused to move, desperate for you to do it again.

Seeing you happy makes him feel so fucking good even if he's not the one doing it. 

Frank and Bill, they give you ease and comfort and he likes being there with you in this world of baked goods and laughing and gentle comments of how wonderful Sarah is. 

His heart felt full that day and then it broke just as easily in the subsequent ones. 

Coming to see Tommy at Maria's had been a last minute detour to grab the tools. He hadn't even considered you'd be there until his brother invited him in for a drink and he'd seen you there snuggled up against Paul. A handsome man, a man who had you tucked under his arm like you were his. 

And Joel had felt that sickening lurch in his heart followed quickly by a scorching and ugly possessiveness. Who the fuck was this guy touching you? You were Joel’s.

Except you aren't.

Joel doesn't get to feel that way. He doesn't get to feel any way about who you take up with. He'd lost that privilege the second he'd taken up with Tess. He stares with menace into his reflection until the dark brown of his eyes are all he sees and feels, suffocating and harsh and unrelenting.

Why did you do it?

Why? How did he convince himself that being with Tess,  that not waiting for you, had been the logical decision?

Was it anger at your lack of communication? Perhaps. Hurt and pathetic jealousy over knowing that you had contacted Maria and not him? Likely. Feeling rejected? Feeling unworthy? Maybe. Had it been fair?

No.

The thing with Tess had been so unexpected. A month of silence from you had left Joel feeling insecure and rejected. Sarah's concern that you didn't like her anymore or were mad at her had him upset. So when Tess called suggesting a play date for Daniel and Sarah he'd jumped at the chance to get out of his house and out of his head. 

He hadn't gone in with the intention of anything more than a cup of coffee. Sarah and Daniel were in the next room giggling and pretending they were mermaids. 

Joel and Tess sat across from one another in the kitchen with their rapidly cooling coffees. They began with chatting about their prospective Christmases and the stress that comes with the holiday when you have a five year old. But then Tess had given him a sharp look. 

"You look tired."

"Not sleeping much," Joel replied. 

"Me neither." Tess took a sip of her coffee. "Dave's girlfriend is pregnant."

That had shocked Joel's eyes from the mug to her face. Tess was looking at him with that curiously intense gaze of hers. 

"Yeah that was my Christmas present this year," Tess replied with a forced laugh. "Finding out my ex is already moving on with some slut from his office and he's already gotten her pregnant."

"Daniel?"

"He's thrilled. Can't wait to be a big brother." Tess' gaze turned hard. "Sorry, shouldn't be bringing this up with you."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not really our dynamic, is it?" Tess has asked him curiously. "Our kids play together, sometimes we talk. . . Surface level stuff."

Joel had shrugged. "I don't mind listening."

Tess had been surprised by Joel's candor and in the way he sat there, hand around his mug listening as Tess poured her heart out about her ex. The hurt, the loneliness that Joel could relate to a bit too much. 

"Thanks for listening," Tess said with a wry smile as she finished. 

"Any time," Joel replied with a small lift of his fingers from the table. 

"You seein' anyone these days?" Tess said it airily, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer. She'd seen the pretty woman in his truck weeks ago. The one he couldn't stop glancing over his shoulder to look at, to smile at.  

Joel felt his mouth tug into a frown at that question. Was he seeing someone? 

No.

You didn't even want to talk to him. He couldn't call you to see where the two of you stood. Wasn't that his answer? 

He shook his head to indicate the negative. That action felt like a betrayal the moment he stopped. 

"Ever feel lonely?" Tess had mused, tracing her finger along the rim of her mug. "I sure fucking do."

"Yeah," Joel had nodded. Because it was true. He did feel lonely in a way Tommy and Sarah and his job couldn't touch. 

"Wanna be lonely together? Go on a date?" 

Joel hadn't been expecting that from Tess. His knee jerk reaction was to say no. That he was seeing someone. That it was complicated. But what was the complication? He told you how he felt and you'd left, icing him out. 

Joel thought of the worst scenario: that you didn't actually like him. That he'd pressured you into something you didn't want and now you wanted nothing to do with him. 

He could see the insecurity growing in Tess' face the longer he didn't answer. 

"Sure," Joel had agreed with a smile that didn't feel genuine. "Yeah."

"Did you really even like me that much?"

Of course you would wonder that. Of course you would sit there looking so beautiful and hurt and asking that in a way that made Joel's heart ache. And he deserved it. He deserved  that question and that pain.

And he'd waited for your disgust, your recalcitrance when he explained his loneliness. Because it wasn't a good enough answer. It didn't encompass how he thought you'd not wanted him and how he'd been weak enough not to fight for you. 

But you'd responded with kindness and patience and above all you wanted to know how it would affect Sarah. 

And that's when he'd felt his resolve starting to slip. That was when he considered taking you into his arms and covering your face with kisses. He wanted to throw himself at your feet and beg your forgiveness. He wanted to push you onto your bed and make gentle love to you for hours. 

And then he'd heard the name Paul. And then he sees you tucked up beside him days later and he hears Maria tell Tommy that she thinks you're happy and he wants you to be happy. After everything Joel just wants that smile of yours to stay. 

///

You come to babysit that Friday night loaded down with a backpack full of puzzles and Disney DVDs and Sarah runs screeching into your arms as you heft her onto one hip. You’re especially excited to see her today.

"Had to show you this," you tell Sarah as you hold her in one arm. Her tiny arms wrap around you, twisting to look at the flip phone you've opened and begun to bring images up on. You stop on the most recent, smiling at her.

"Are those kitty's?"

"Yup," you smile at her reaction. "Foster parent sent the photos to me this morning. 5 kittens in all."

"What's a fozzer parent?"

"A foster parent,” you correct gently. “They're the people who take care of the animals when they're small until they're big and strong enough to get adopted."

Sarah is digesting this, her wide eyes going off into middle distance just as Joel enters the kitchen.  He's dressed casual tonight in jeans that hug the curve of his ass and a t-shirt that strains along the arm and broad chest of his body. 

If Frank was here you're sure he'd be foaming at the mouth.  

"Hi Daddy."

"Hey babygirl."

Joel smiles a hello at you, going to grab a glass of water before he leaves. You continue scanning through the grainy photos in your phone at Sarah’s request. She suggests names like Pumpkin and Carrot for the kittens and you don’t bother telling her they already have Lord of the Rings names because the foster parent is a Tolkien nerd.

///

Joel sips his water slowly, needing to extend the time in your presence. He watches you hold his daughter on your hip, both sets of eyes on the glowing phone in your hands. Sarah is excitedly rambling and you’re glancing over at her with an indulgent smile.

He loves you.

Wait, what? No. He means he loves watching you with Sarah. The sweetness of your bond. He doesn’t love you. You’re friends, that’s it.

You seem really happy with Paul, as much as he hates to admit it. He hears from Maria how happy you are.

He can’t love you.

///

You feel Joel’s warm eyes on you and you glance up to see him staring at you and Sarah. You can’t stop looking at him differently now after your conversation with Tommy. You give a sweet smile of affection for him.

Protector.

I want you for my own.

There is a part of your lizard brain that focuses on this aspect of Joel. The strong protector covering his own hurt. The way he wants to take care of you. The way he wants to protect everyone even at a cost to his own happiness.

And you can admit now, as you stare into his eyes, that you love that about him. This deep, abiding affection that makes your heart swell when you look at him. It makes you daydream about a world and a future that isn’t yours.

You think what it would be like if Joel was your husband. You can imagine it. The three of you just as you have always been. Except now its Joel curving forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, looking at the phone with Sarah perched on your hip. His strong arms wrapping around your expanded midsection. His mouth coming to your temple to whisper how much he wanted this, how much he wanted you.

The dam breaks.

All the emotions you’d been holding back sputter out of you and you nearly drop the phone. Thankfully Sarah has a grip on it and she stills it. Your eyes are threatening to spill over and you rub them furiously.

“Careful,” Sarah tells you, her attention still on the images of the little kittens. Joel approaches, his eyes peering into yours. His hand is on your cheek, cupping it before you can say anything. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod shakily, trying not to nuzzle into his palm. “Just a headache.”

“I don’t have to go,” Joel insists, worried he sounds too eager. “I could cancel if you’re not feeling well.”

This affection you have for Joel, this worrisome love that you can’t seem to stop builds in your chest. And just as Tommy said, you are so similar. Because while you care for Joel you know that Tess is a better match. You are chaotic and troubled and you bring drama into this single father’s life; drama he never had before you. Tess is even and steady and no, she’s not perfect. But neither is Joel.

“You go on,” you croak, forcing a smile to your face. “Have fun.”

Joel nods and gives a weak smile, dropping his hand from your cheek.

“Don’t know how much fun a bid meeting is, but we’ll see.”

Since she's still in your arms you watch as Joel leans forward and presses a kiss to Sarah's forehead before smiling indulgently at her. 

"Your beard tickles," Sarah giggles with a smile up at her father before mentioning the kittens from your work. Her voice is fading though because Joel's eyes have snapped to you and he's not moving back. If anything his face is getting closer to yours. 

You don’t pull away.

Ever so softly, Joel presses a kiss to your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut at the contact. His lips are warm and soft against your skin and you feel his hand skating along to your lower back, resting there. He’s so close you can smell the scent of his shampoo and the laundry detergent and this underlying scent that is just Joel to you.  

He pulls back slowly, staring at you as you blink open your eyes. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Can he tell everything in your gaze?

Sarah barely notices this interaction between the two grownups because her attention is on the phone and on the subject of what she has decided what she'll do for a job when she gets to an employable age: Fozzer parent. 

"Have fun you two," he says to you both in a deep voice before clearing it. 

You swallow; swaying gently and watching him leave. You decide to stop acting like a stunned mullet when the door closes behind him and you’ve lowered Sarah back to the floor

“Let’s play Barbies.”

Sarah is unaware of your sudden daze, or the way you stumble when you walk into the living room after her. She doesn’t even comment on how you’re smiling crookedly as you dress the various Barbie dolls she shoves at you.

“This one needs a bit of love,” you say brushing the hair of a particularly bedraggled Barbie as you and Sarah sit before another one of her Christmas acquisitions; a Barbie Dream home. So pink and purple you want to wear sunglasses just to look at it.

“My birthday is soon.”

“I know,” you say with measured enthusiasm. “I hear you and your dad are planning something really fun.”

“McDonalds and mini golf,” Sarah tells you smiling widely. “They have a big play place with a ball pit.”

“Mhmm. Who’s coming?”

“Uncle Tommy, Auntie Maria (auntie! You’ll never get over that!) and my best friend Jessie. And you, right?”

“Of course,” you answer without thinking then realize some names have been left off her list. “You think you’ll invite Daniel and Miss Tess?”

“Daniel’s annoying.” Sarah adds nothing else to this as she’s struggling to put a pair of plastic shoes onto a Barbie with springy feet.  “He only wants to play cars.”

"Ah, that’s boys for you,” you try to say it casually. “I think Miss Tess is really nice though."

"She doesn't do voices right when she reads," Sarah tells you flatly, not looking up from the Barbie she’s currently trying to make walk. "Templeton sounds the same like Wilbur."

You hold in a laugh at her criticism of Tess' ability to read Charlotte's Web to her standards. 

"Maybe there's another book she can read with you?" You offer. "One we haven't read yet."

Sarah looks up at you with a peering expression, as if she can’t really figure you out tonight. But this dims when her attention becomes fixed on the Barbie you've now made look presentable

"Olivia books?" Sarah suggests finally. "Olivia is a pig but she wears a red dress. That’s a good book."

You nod and hope your smile hides the pain behind it. 

///

After two stories (with very good voices), one song (“You are my sunshine” seemed more appropriate for a five year old than more Linda Ronstadt), five forehead kisses (plus one for toad) and two “I love you’s” (two each, that is), Sarah is asleep and you’re daydreaming on the sofa.

You can’t stop thinking about Joel kissing your cheek. The warmth of him, the broadness of his frame, the soft rasp of his whiskers. Every single thing about Joel makes you feel giddy and fluttery and just when you feel yourself about to giggle out loud, the house phone rings and you sit up as Tess’ voice rings through the air as the answering machine clicks on.

Hey Joel, it’s me. Just wanted to know what you thought Sar-bear would want for her birthday? I already got something but I’m worried it’s not enough. Call me back, k? Bye.

You can hear the unspoken ‘I love you’ in the ‘bye’. You know it’s because the machine is public, possible for Sarah to listen to.

Sar-bear?

Jesus Christ. Were you really so naïve to think you could exist in this world with Sarah and Joel, immune to what lay outside the doors? Immune to the woman who wants to have Sarah for a daughter and Joel for a husband?

Besides, you’re reading too much into this. He kissed your cheek. Tommy kisses your cheek hello sometimes when you see he and Maria at dinner. There’s nothing sensual there, just a form of affection.

The TV is turned on and your mind is distracted until a short while later you hear a rapping on the door. You switch the TV off, feeling a bit nervous. You consider taking the butcher knife from the kitchen but then decide perhaps this is an overreaction since Joel lives in a perfectly safe neighborhood.

A quick look through the peephole tells you its Paul on the other side.  Your ride home. A quick glance at your wristwatch tells you that its barely nine o’clock. 

“Hey baby,” Paul says, leaning against the door frame. He kisses you gently. “Ready to go?”

“I said Joel would be back around nine-thirty,” you remind him, feeling a flash of irritation.   You don’t like that he’s here at the door, so close to a world you’ve unknowingly kept him on the perimeter of. It makes you feel strange to have him there on the doorstep.

“Sorry,” Paul says with a wince. “Think I heard wrong. Can I come in?"

“I don’t think that’s. . . I don’t know how Joel would feel about that.”

Paul looks shocked by this from you, about to say something when another voice sounds out from behind him.

“How would I feel about what?”

Joel is striding up to the house, his muscled legs moving up the drive.

“Bringing boyfriends over while you babysit? A bit cliche,” Joel teases, but his voice is tight and his smile looks forced. You feel a strange sense of guilt that Paul is here.

“Hey Joel,” you say with an awkward laugh. “This is Paul. Paul, this is Joel."

Joel walks up the steps and extends a hand that Paul immediately shakes, smiling warmly.

“Yeah I think I saw you once at Maria’s. Heard lots about you.”

Joel slants a look your way before nodding back at Paul. “Good things I hope.”

You watch, stricken as the two men shake hands before breaking apart.

“Paul just got here early to pick me up.”

“Good man,” Joel says and up close you can see the strange look in his eyes. He brushes past you gently to go into the house as you prepare to leave, feeling strange to be leaving like this, one foot already on the threshold of the door. You give a soft goodnight to Joel, preparing to head out when Paul furrows his brow and grips your wrist, stopping you.

“Aren’t you going to pay her?”

Joel who had been about to walk inside his house stops, stepping back and looking at Paul. You immediately blanch, looking at your boyfriend in dull horror.

“No, that’s not-“

“She did a service for you, she deserves to get paid.”

Paul states this as if he’s doing you a favor. He says this about you – that you’re too kind and you do too much for others. That you don’t stand up for yourself enough and you know he’s doing it to be kind but you want to scream at him.

“We have a deal, Joel built all those kennels for me and-“

“Your boyfriend is right,” Joel interrupts lowly, taking the wallet out the back of his pants pocket.  “You do a lot and you deserve to get paid for it.”

Paul shoots you a look that says: See?

You swallow the warm shame that is flushing your entire body a humiliated pink. You can only stand in horrible, awkward silence as Joel peels off five twenty dollar bills (far too much for a few hours babysitting) and gently holds them to you. You stare at the money a beat too long before Paul reaches out, taking the money and then handing it to you himself.

“Thanks,” you mutter with your eyes on the ground as you put the money in your pocket.

"Good night," Joel says. 

///

You can’t stop thinking about of Joel’s mouth.

You should be turned off, especially after the humiliating spectacle you just endured but your mind keeps flying back to the softness in his eyes and the way his hand had skated down your back. Abuzz with thoughts of Joel and his lips on your fevered cheek, you drive to Paul’s house almost thrumming beside him.

In bed Paul moves between your legs with the comforting motions of a longtime lover. Your bodies are familiar with one another; you know the sweet spots each other enjoys. After two years there is gentleness to the intimacy, a calm and steady reliance that when you fall you'll be caught. 

He likes to do it best with both you on your sides, his front pressed against your back, your legs scissor with his, rolling your hips against him as he fucks you. He is usually silent, the only noises are the grunts and gasps when he hits you in a way that makes you squirm delightedly. At this angle you often come, shuddering his name. 

Tonight is no different except the mouth on your body that you imagine in Joel's and you feel the warmth expand up your body, making you go boneless against Paul as he finishes soon after. 

He kisses your sweaty temple, holding you until he softens, disposing of the condom and returning to bed to hold you again. 

"Remind me, I gotta go to the pharmacy tomorrow," you tell Paul flicking off the lamp next to the bed. "Gotta get my refill."

You feel Paul snuggling up against you in bed and you smile. You like cozy nights like this at his place. His bed is bigger than yours, more room to stretch out and his lithe body is so warm. 

"Maybe don't get a refill this time," Paul coos as he comes to wrap his arms around you. 

"What?"

You're suddenly so tensed that Paul begins tugging you back into him. He sighs gently before pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder.  

"I wanna make a baby with you," Paul says, his hand coming to span over your empty stomach. "I want us to build a family."

You want to laugh at the preposterousness of the suggestion but something stops you. 

Paul is offering you a family. 

you won't have Sarah and Joel. Tess has laid a very obvious claim to them and you don't have a leg to stand on. Maria and Tommy are starting a new chapter in their lives. It won't be long before they too will turn inward, their lives intertwined. 

And wouldn't it be nice to raise kids together with Maria? Maybe even be pregnant at the same time? The thought causes an excited frisson to go through you. You have images of you both holding newborns. Maria glowing and holding a curly haired baby with dark caramel skin. 

You rocking a baby in your arms, a baby with large eyes a dark chocolate brown that look up at you with adoration. The same brown color as -

You feel your eyes fly open. You glance over at Paul, taking in his sweet blue eyes and give a guilty smile.

"I'll think about it."

///

You’re surprised to see Joel at your work later that week. It’s early and you’re just arriving from the bus, your bag bouncing against your hip. At first you see him and his gentle smile and a surge of affection goes through you followed by a crushing humiliation at the memory of the last time you saw him.

You wave and walk over to the truck confused at his arrival before you see a flurry of movement in the back seat. 

The widow is rolled down and Sarah shouts your name. You jog the rest of the way over, smirking over at Joel before you lean over the right window of the back seat. Sarah is dressed in a purple sweater and bumblebee boots. Her hair is in tight buns on either side of her head. 

"Hey, how's it goin' bug?"

She reaches out towards you with one hand, and then frustrated at being buckled into her car seat she frowns at her father. "Daddy, let me out!"

"We had a deal," Joel warns her, looking at her through the rear view mirror. Sarah leans back in her car seat shooting daggers at her dad as she theatrically crosses her arms.

"What was the deal?" You ask Sarah playfully. 

"She found out I driving in this direction for work and she begged me to take her to see ya before I dropped her at school," Joel explains with a smirk and a shrug from the front seat. "Drove by your place to see if you wanted a lift but you’d already left.”

You try to hide a pleased smile.  

“Do you have a sec? If not we understand."

You love seeing them and you love that Sarah was so eager to see you.

"I always have time for Sarah," you say turning your attention back to the squirming girl in the backseat. "So what's up?"

Sarah reaches beside her in the car seat and you expect to see toad flying out of her pocket. Instead it's a glittery piece of stationary with the image of a frog in a tutu dancing with a party hat on. 

"My birthday party," she explains handing you the card. "Can you come?"

"Your birthday party is finally here?" You say, feeling your heart melt as you see she's filled in all the information herself in her wide, crooked lettering. "How old are you turning? 20? 25? Can you finally rent a car?"

Sarah giggles at this, shaking her head. “I’m turning six.”

You look at the information. McDonalds and mini golf. You used to have parties like that when you were little. It makes you feel nostalgic for a life not overshadowed by poor memories. 

"It's a small party," Joel explains from the front seat. "Just Tommy and Maria, Tess and Daniel and Sarah's friend from school."

"Jessie," Sarah tells you. "She's my best friend since I was four."

She says this like it's a relationship that has weathered many seasons. The party sounds like it's an intimate affair and you wonder if that means you shouldn't go. Yes, you want to be part of Sarah’s life and yes, you love her but Tess will be there and it's too hard for you to pretend like you don't care that she's with Joel. 

You glance at the date on the shining card stock where Joel has obviously helped her to print the date: this Saturday. 

"We're having ice cream cake," Sarah explains. "I get vanilla and chocolate."

"Lucky girl!" You enthuse before your eyes dart to Joel in the front seat. He's looking between you and Sarah in the rear view mirror, his gaze unreadable.

"Yep!" Sarah shouts this giggling madly and kicking her feet. Her little boots bump against the car seat, squeaking as she speaks rapidly. "I'm gonna have so many pieces-"

"Time to go, say goodbye," Joel says in a playful voice before he starts the engine again, seeing that Sarah's attention now firmly rests on what she's going to be eating on Saturday. 

"Wait daddy! Are you coming to my birthday?" Sarah asks you with wide eyes before her dad can hit the gas pedal.  

Maybe you could back off a little bit with Sarah. Just for a bit. Just until I can wedge myself in there, ya know?

You made a promise to Tess. Not one you wanted to make, not one that feels particularly fair, but one that you agreed to. You look from the sweet child to the sweet man in the front seat and feel your heart aching. You want so much for them both to be happy. And this means you need to pull back, just a little bit.

"Sarah, this is so nice of you to invite me," you enthuse. "But uh, unfortunately this Saturday I have plans. I can't make it."

You aren't expecting the devastation that crosses Sarah's face. Her crumpling face makes your heart sink. 

“But you and me we’ll go to the movies or something, just us, and I'll still totally get you a present!" You promise, reaching through the window and cupping her warm cheek in your hand. "What were you wanting?"

"That's not necessa-" Joel starts from the front seat. 

"Because I want to," you say speaking over Joel. "I'll make sure to give it to your dad so you get it before the party. Just tell me what you want."

Sarah's tears are warm and cover your thumbs. She pulls her face away from you, rubbing at her eyes as she tries to stop crying. You feel wretched. 

"We better go," Joel grumbles as he shifts into gear. 

The gap widens. 

///

She’s sobbing.

His little girl is sobbing.

He can’t remember the last time he saw Sarah this upset. She’s in his lap in the front of the truck and he’s rocking her back and forth, murmuring soothing words as he rubs at her back. She’s too upset to go to daycare quite yet, so they’re in the parking lot.

You were lying. Lying to Sarah of all people. What the fuck is wrong with you?

He’d seen the indecision in your eyes that morning, almost felt the panic you had as you looked over the invitation. What was the problem? Was it that Paul wasn’t invited? He’d invite the entire fucking neighborhood if that’s what it took.

“I don’t w-wanna stupid party anymore,” Sarah hiccups, her body shuddering with the effort of trying to stop her crying. Her little arms around his neck and her forehead pressed to his cheek. “I don’t want one.”

“Sarah,” Joel offers diplomatically, pulling her back so he can look at her face. “Now you’re actin’ silly. You love parties.”

“Not without her. She makes cupcakes and tells me stories.”

“She said she was gonna take you out, just the two of you. I bet if you asked she’d make you  your favorite cupcakes,” Joel insists, wiping at her runny nose with a tissue from his glove box. “Babygirl, sometimes grownups get busy.”

“Not her,” Sarah says wiping at her eyes even as fresh tears replace the old. “She loves me.”

“She does love you,” Joel insists, his heart seizing. “Loving you has nothing to do with coming to your party. So many people that love you will be at your party.  I love you and Uncle Tommy loves you and-”

“Maybe she loves me like Mommy does?” Sarah asks, her lower lip trembling as she tries to understand, to rationalize you as a grown up.  “Love but from far away?”

///

You left work early. You couldn’t concentrate on the tasks at hand. All you could think of was Sarah and how upset she’d been. You know you’re only doing what Tess asked. You’re backing off, giving her space to bond with Sarah.

It’s supposed to be the right thing, but it hurts so much. The kind of pain you feel you can taste in your mouth, bitter and metallic.

But you would want the same if Paul had a kid, wouldn’t you? You’d want to bond with the child that brings the man you care for such joy. The conversation you had earlier in the week with Paul makes your stomach flip, but not quite pleasantly.

There's a large knock at your door and you open it only to have Joel standing there looking as if he’s about to open fire.

“Joel?”

“Can I come in?”

You take a step backward, confused and a little wary.  He looks furious. More furious than you can recall. His hands are at his sides and you note that he’s rubbing the fingertips together in agitation.

“Is everything-“

"So that promise you made about always being there for Sarah? Loving her?" Joel interrupts, walking in at your gesture. "I guess that was all bullshit?"

"No, I meant it," you defend immediately, closing the door behind you with a slam. “And I am. I just can’t come to her party on Saturday.”

“Because you have plans?”

“Yes.”

“You think I don’t know when you’re lyin’?” Joel says, his eyes swimming over your face. “You think I can’t see it in your eyes? I thought we were past this? Tell me the truth. Why aren’t you coming?”

You don’t want to answer him. But you know you have to.

“Because she doesn’t need me there,” you answer in half-truth. “She has Tess now. I figured I should ease off a bit. Give you guys some room.”

"She's not askin' for Tess, she's askin" for you!" Joel insists angrily, his drawl more pronounced when he's upset. Joel loves his daughter, he loves her so much and you've hurt her. You can see the anger in the tightness of his jaw, in the burning coals of his dark eyes. 

It frightens you to see Joel this angry and you lash out.

"Stop yelling at me!" you shout at him, not acknowledging the irony. “Or you can get the fuck out of my place!”

Joel falters, realizing that he’s come in too hot, too aggressive.

"She keeps saying she doesn't wanna have a party if you're not there," he says, his voice dropping a bit as if he’s just now recognizing the volume and severity. "Says it won't feel like a real party without you."

"Well I didn't know that," you throw back at him. "I thought it was more of a family thing. I didn't wanna intrude."

"You're not intruding. You're family to her. So are you coming or not?" Joel insists. He's panting now, coming down from his furious high.

Maybe you could back off a little bit with Sarah? Just for a bit. Just until I can wedge myself in there, ya know?

Tess’ plea for you to stay away is ignored, pushed away by the sight of Sarah’s father glaring down at you.

No, not just because Joel is upset. 

But because you have no intention of staying away from Sarah. If Tess wants Joel and Sarah she has to understand that you’ll be there in the peripheral, fighting for your place. You left Joel and Sarah once and it was the worst thing you could have done, you refuse to do it again.

"Yes,” you say softly.  "Of course I'll come. What time?"

"Three."

"Fine." 

"Fine." 

Joel's voice is a soft rasp now.  You take a step back, just as he steps forward.

"Fine."

It's like your bodies are magnets.

You keep trying to pull back from one another but it feels inevitable when you finally crash together. 

Joel's hands are immediately fisting through your hair, tugging it so your head tilts back and he can move his mouth over yours. Your arms are around his neck, holding him tightly as you moan against his parting lips.

Your bodies are both trembling with need as Joel backs you against the wall, his eyes shut as he kisses you deeply. His knee comes to rest between your thighs and his hips press against yours fervently. You can feel him there, hard and thick through his denim.

So good. So good.

He licks into your mouth, curling his body around yours as you cling to him, desperate to feel everything. In a daring move your hands skate under his flannel and you feel the smooth, taught warmth of his broad back under your hands. He lets out a small moan into your mouth as goose bumps rise under your fingertips. 

You’re quivering, full body shudders of desire that have your breath coming out in little quakes. Joel tilts his head so he can hear every sound, groaning lowly as your hips begin to slide along his thigh.

The friction of his jeans and the seam of yours hits perfectly, causing you to hiccup a gasp, pulling up. You quiver, your entire body shuddering as Joel urges you down against his thigh again, his own hips moving in tandem as you do. Your arms are on his shoulders, holding him.

One of his hands is palm flat above your shoulders on the wall at your back, balancing you both. The other is at the base of your spine, guiding you, urging you to grind harder against him. You do, feeling the arousal pooling between your legs.

Joel pulls back to look at you heavy-lidded with a mouth swollen from his lips. He watches your hips moving to rub against his thigh, your own thigh brushing his stiffened cock under the jeans. He’s aching, physically throbbing as he groans again, his brows saddling and his head falling forward.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasps in your ear.

It’s not a dare from Joel, it’s a beg. A needful beg for you to be the one to stop things. For you to be the one that reminds him it’s wrong. For you to see that he’s completely undone, unable to stop himself.

"Don’t stop," you moan, tilting your head so that he has better access to trace his tongue along your neck. He does so, pressing you tighter to the wall until it’s not just his thigh you’re riding, but almost rutting up against his hips.

You grip him around the neck, your mouth panting against the slope where his shoulder meet the base of his neck. With a sound of delight Joel is coaxing you to take what you need, that he’s got you.

You can feel him hard against you and you have the strongest desire to reach into his jeans and just hold him, thick and twitching in your palm.

“Joel I w-wanna t-touch-” you begin, your words stopping sharply as the seam of your jeans hits that sweet spot.

You hear his smile, because your eyes are slammed shut as he begins to rub himself against you at an achingly slow pace.

“You first, honey,” he rasps against your jaw and this time you embrace the endearment as it slips past his lush lips. “Need to hear those sounds you make.”

"F-fuck," you gasp out. It's nothing like Paul or James.You’re fully clothed, your riding his fucking thigh and yet you feel electric. If it were anyone else you’d laugh at the sight of two grown people dry humping against a wall, but with Joel it’s the hottest thing you can imagine outside of full-blown sex.

His eyes are open now and staring at your face as you begin to crest whimpering his name. Your eyes crack open and in silent communion you watch each other. The darkening of Joel’s irises as his pupils expand, the flush of your cheeks and neck.

"Are you gonna come?" he's murmuring in awe before he’s pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth a as you rut against his jeans. "Already? I can’t believe… So fucking beautiful. . .”

You feel beautiful when you arch out against him and whimper that yes, you’re close and that you can’t stop. Both of his broad hands are on your hip, urging your body more firmly against his muscled thigh.

"Please come for me," he groans as he presses wet kisses along your jaw.  “I need it.”

You feel the ripples of pleasure taking you over, your nipples tightening painfully under your shirt. You arch again, tilting your head back as you moan lowly.

“There she goes,” Joel marvels as he watches your eyes roll back into your head as you buck against him.  And when the orgasm rolls through you, devastatingly fast, it's his name on your tongue as you surrender to the pleasure that consumes you, collapsing against his shoulder as you come down. 

Then there is nothing heard but your mutual panting, your face buried in the crook of his neck as he presses you against the wall, holding you there. You give a shuddering whimper as Joel slowly brings his thigh from between your legs.  

As he does this, it’s like he drains you of your lustful haze.

What did you just do?

Paul.

Tess.

"What the fuck," you shoving the hair from your feverish face.  You push away from Joel and in a daze he stumbles back, his eyes pitched black as he stares at you.

"What are we doing?"

"I don't know," Joel says slowly, his eyes unable to stop travelling the length of you. “But I don’t want to stop.”

“We have to stop! That was so fucking wrong Joel,” you say, your heart thundering.

You feel a sick pit in the bottom of your stomach, this dreadful realization that you’ve just done something so incredibly selfish. Tears slip down your cheeks, full of guilt and shame. Joel’s eyes immediately sharpen and he cups your face in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Joel says pressing gentle kisses to your cheeks, trying to dry them of your tears. “I’m so sorry, honey-“

He crowds you, holding you to him as he kisses your cheeks tenderly. This motion is meant only to give you comfort. Your hands go to his wrists on either side of your face, wanting to tear his hands away, needing to breathe.

But it’s Joel.

You move your head so that now his lips inadvertently brush your mouth and not your cheek. And suddenly one hand is cupping the back of your head and the other is banding against your back, pulling you into him because his head is tilted and your lips are against his and you’re kissing him, holding to the back of his neck and kissing him so ardently you feel breathless.

Now you're licking into his mouth and whimpering and its your needy hands sliding from his chest up to the neck of his flannel, trembling fingers trying to undo the button closest to his sternum.  Now it’s Joel who stops, pulling back from your mouth and panting down at you. You feel your entire world tilting in that gaze.

He says your name, slow and breathy and you feel everything in those syllables. Never before has your name sounded so laced with sensuality.

And that’s the fucking problem.  You blink up at him, trying to clear your head.

Tess. Paul. Marmalade.

“Joel I- we can’t be alone together anymore.”

“It was – “ Joel wants to defend himself, to explain that this was just a one-time slip up. But he knows that’s not true. Knows that if you gave him the word he’d take you to the bed right now and fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

"You should go."

"Sarah’s party – “

"I’ll be there," you say as you herd him towards the door like some frazzled, still-horny border collie. "But until then we need to stay away from one another. And right now you gotta go, Paul is coming over."

Joel is in the frame of the open door about to leave when he turns around.

“Tell me you’re happy with him.”

“I am.”

“Happier than with me?”

You’re about to respond but then you hear the sound of footsteps on gravel approaching and you jerk back. Paul is coming around the corner to the door, he sees Joel's broad shouldered frame in the door just as you two break apart. 

"Hey."

Joel turns with a start to see a smiling Paul making his way to the door. Your face is tense and you wonder if he guesses what just went on between you and Joel. If he does, his face doesn’t show it.

“Joel, this is a surprise.”

"Yup," Joel nods, "I was just inviting your girl to Sarah's birthday. You should come too. More the merrier." 

His girl? 

Joel looks so casual as he says this, as if he didn’t just make you come seconds ago in this very suite.  

"When is it?"

"Saturday afternoon."

Paul enters into the suite and pecks a kiss to your cheek. He misses when Joel narrows his eyes at that. 

"Works for me, what about you, baby?"

You wince at the nickname. It's not that you hate it; you just hate hearing it in front of Joel. The man whose eyes are boring into your face so intensely you feel flustered. 

"Yep. Of course we’ll be there." 

[jo-harrington]

Leave of Absence (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie has royally fucked everything up and he needs to fix it. But after an unexpected emergency back home, he steps up to be there for Reader, just like she's always there for him.

Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.05

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Slow burn, mutual pining, angsty, emotional, fluffy, family problems, death in the family, loss, grief, pain and comfort, road trip, avoidance of feelings, Minor religious themes, mention of Catholic Church/Reader's family is Catholic but no overarching catholicism (that's what my other story is for)

Note: Woof ok this was an uphill battle FOR A YEAR. I'm gonna say the reason that Store Manager Verse exists in its present form is because of THIS CHAPTER RIGHT HERE. Before I could bring my two silly babies here to this moment, they needed to have some serious foundations laid down. Is it the best chapter? Probably not. But I'm incredibly happy that it's here and it's done.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other Eddie stories.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

He was nervous.

"Stacey."

Of course he was nervous.

"Freak."

And what did he do when he was nervous? He talked.

"Hey now, I'm wounded," Eddie laid a hand across his chest, trying to keep the cool guy exterior. "Calling me a freak? Did I or did I not just help you with that flat tire last week?"

He was surprised when Stacey paused, a barb surely caught on the end of her tongue. She even looked a little embarrassed for a moment before her own frosty expression returned and she had the decency to look down her nose at him.

Sticking to the status quo.

"I know you're trying to put my boss under a love spell or hypnosis or something," she rolled her eyes. "So don't act like you would have helped any other time if she hadn't asked. Gotta keep her buttered up so you can get in her pants. Gag."

The typical stab of insult was welcome; the rest of it...wasn't. Not when it came to you. Not after what happened on Sunday. Not when he was nervous.

Sunday...

What started out as a normal night for the two of you had quickly become a nightmare. For him at least.

Well...it had been a dream at first. Hanging out. Food, laughter, music; it was nothing out of the norm for a Sunday night together. But then he had to go and suggest a little weed, where you had some kind of...bad reaction. To try and get your mind off the panic that had quickly taken over your body...he'd done the first thing that came to mind.

The only thing that came to mind lately when you were around.

He kissed you.

And he kept kissing you because you hadn't pushed him away. In fact, you’d kissed him harder.

For minutes or hours, he couldn't quite tell, he was overjoyed and he basked in being surrounded by you, in finding pleasure with you.

Finding pleasure. God, there was that poet's heart Mrs. Mills always told him he had. Almost fucking. Grinding one out on his couch. But yeah...finding pleasure worked too. Because it wasn't just a meaningless romp; he was kind of crazy about you, so of course it was gonna be special. Poetic.

How long had he been on the edge about confessing his feelings and ruining your friendship? He was the only one to blame when it came to keeping his mouth shut; Kyle had been telling him to just ask you out and plant one on you forever. And then Eddie did and it was perfect.

Until it wasn't. Until Wayne came home and Eddie had seen the panic and the fear and the...realization in your eyes, and he knew how badly he'd fucked up. Let alone the fact that you immediately ran away.

You’d been avoiding him for a few days. “Avoiding him,” as though school and work hadn't been putting you on opposite schedules. Still, there were no phone calls. No waiting to take your breaks with him. Only awkward glances as he passed your store on the way to start his shift, or a strained smile as you passed each other in the parking lot as he was coming and you were going.

And now Stacey was…being Stacey.

Had you told her? Complained about him? Made it known to your employees that the two of you had made a huge mistake.

No you would never…

Still, his nerves got the better of him and although he didn’t want to seem desperate, especially around Stacey of all people, he was.

"...did she say that or..." He paused and shook his head. "Where is your boss anyway? She’s supposed to close tonight right?”

Stacey looked a little unsure again and this time it made his stomach turn.

People were usually nervous around Eddie, but he had grown plenty used to that reaction from a wide array of classmates and neighbors.

Once again, when it came to you, especially given the circumstances, things were different. Maybe that's what was happening here? Maybe Stacey knew something he didn't, and you'd told her not to say anything so you could let him down easily.

Eddie was generally a level-headed guy but sometimes...sometimes...it didn't matter if he had a level head because the entire world was tipping on its side.

Who had you told? Stacey for sure...maybe Chrissy? Chrissy always avoided him at school thanks to his resident freak status, Starcourt Mall be damned. What about Mindy? Mindy was your only other confidante outside of him; what did she know? Had she convinced you to...to what? Dump him as a friend? Take the time you needed to avoid him? Somewhere between Sunday and today, had you finally come to the realization that he had been dreading all along. That he wasn't worth your time?

"Um, yeah,” Stacey finally replied and Eddie blinked himself back to reality. She picked at her cuticles and avoided his eyes. Never a good sign. “Well she was supposed to but Mindy was here when I clocked in. She's sick or something, I don't know. Mindy wouldn't say exactly...but she never calls out so..."

“Well where’s Mindy now?” he asked, almost desperately.

“She’s finishing up her break in the back,” she explained with a nod. “I can go see if she’s done.”

She disappeared into the stockroom, leaving him alone in the store.

He was unsure how to feel. Relief coursed through him; you weren’t avoiding him, you were simply not here. But on the other hand, what if you weren't here because you were avoiding him?

What if Stacey didn't know anything but Mindy did. Because no, you never called off. Ever. A fact that you had told him when he suggested playing hooky one busy Saturday when you were overwhelmed by a never-ending mid shift.

“I never leave early. I never take a sick day.”

“Well, shit, did you have perfect attendance in school too?”

“Uhm,” you hesitated, biting your lip naughtily. “I’m not at will to say.”

“Oh, you bad girl.”

"If it isn't our resident Van Halen impersonator," Mindy greeted as she walked out of the stockroom. Her usual sing-songs mom voice replaced by a gentler one as she smiled at him solemnly. "She's taking a few sick days. Should be back in time for your night out on Sunday, I hope."

"She's sick?" Eddie asked skeptically. "Wasn’t she here yesterday, she looked fi--"

"Why don't you give her a call," she insisted. She glanced over to the stock room door and as Eddie tracked her gaze, he saw Stacey eavesdropping. "Actually I was gonna stop by after work. Why don't you go? That way it's not a game of telephone.

"I'm sure she could really use a friend right now."

---

Eddie had never been inside of your apartment before.

He knew where you lived, sure; he'd dropped you off or picked you up a few times, especially once the two of you started planning dates outings outside of the usual Sundays. He'd never even rang the bell, if he was being honest. You usually watched out the window eagerly when you were expecting him to arrive.

The realization hit him as he stood there at the little residential door between the bakery and the furniture store, staring at your name on a little Dymo punch label next to the buzzer that he'd just jammed his finger into, and it filled him with doubt.

You'd been to the trailer a few times. Seen all of his favorite places, tried all of his favorite foods. Listened patiently to his insecurities and issues. Still, you seemed to keep him at arms length, if he didn't even know what your apartment looked like; did you have posters on the walls or pictures of your family? What color was your couch? Or the towels in your bathroom?

He knew so much about you but did he really know you, and did you even want him to?

The door buzzed open and Eddie took the stairs up to your landing two at a time, all the while worrying and overthinking: You weren't expecting him and he was beginning to doubt that you even wanted him here in the first place. Sure, Mindy told him to go over...but was this taking it a step too far?

He started preparing an apology as he closed the final few distance to your door and it swung open--

"I'm sorry I fucked up, I didn't mean to break your trust. I'll do anything...anything...if you'll just forgive me. If you just give me another chance."

--and he saw the sorry state you were in.

Hair and clothes mussed, eyes bloodshot and puffy, a bundle of black fabric clenched tightly in your hands; the shine of tears and snot was accentuated by the incandescent lights in the hallway.

"Eddie," you whispered in a strained, broken voice, then you dropped the fabric to cross the threshold of your apartment and bury your face into his shirt. He panicked for a moment, arms held uselessly at his sides as your tears penetrated the worn fabric at his shoulder, but he quickly engulfed you in a hug.

"I'm sorry," you both spoke over one another, then you pulled back and stared him straight in the eye. "You're sorry? I'm sorry."

"No," you shook your head. "I'm sorry. I...I should have done better, I shouldn't have--"

"I crossed a line and I ruined our friendship and--"

You both continued talking over one another, each half-listening to what the other had to say as you got your own apologies out, until you both synced back up again.

"I fucked up and I'm sorry."

Your shoulders and chests heaved from the cacophony of emotion and a tense laugh was shared between the two of you. Then Eddie came to a realization.

"If you're sorry..." he frowned and let his eyes rake over you again. "If you thought that you hurt or scared me--which you didn't, by the way. It was...it was me, my mistake--why are you crying?"

You worried your lip for a second and a lone tear escaped your eye and trailed down your cheek; his hand immediately came up so he could thumb it away.

"Mindy told me you were sick," he muttered, taking advantage of the proximity to be a little gentler, a little smaller than he was used to being, so you could put your trust in him again. "What happened?"

"Uhm..." you croaked. "I'm not sick. I'm just taking a few sick days. Bereavement days...actually. Little leave of absence. Just through the end of the weekend."

The word was distantly familiar to him; the memories, though, would stay with him forever. Rick picking him up from school, a phone call from Wayne to his boss. An appointment for all three of them to get suits rented...and then some flowers ordered. Shiny shoes that he could see his teary-eyed reflection in.

He swallowed painfully and watched you do the same as you prepared your confession.

"My...uh...my grandpa died last night."

And before he knew it, it was 12 hours later. 12 hours that he spent relatively quietly.

He let you fill the silence; let you talk and cry, only opening his mouth to comfort you when the realization hit again and it got to be too much.

He helped you pack your bag for the trip back home. That was when your grief finally turned into anger.

Towards your family. Towards yourself.

"I feel like it's my fault," you sighed as you showed him how to find a pair of tights that didn’t have runs in them, whatever that meant. "I was the only one who took care of him. Doctor's appointments, took him on walks, made sure he didn't have the food he wasn't supposed to. The works. And I left. It's my fault he's gone. At least, that's the way Michael made it sound on the phone."

Eddie almost didn't catch the last part, said under your breath as you stuffed a shiny pair of shoes into your duffel bag, but he did. He wasn't going to let you do this to yourself; how many times over the years had he questioned how he might have been able to keep his mom from dying? On those days where he needed her most. He knew he couldn't stop you from those thoughts, at least not now but he could do his best to fight them away until you could do it yourself.

"Michael," he spoke up, startling you with the realization that he heard. "That's your brother right?"

"Older brother," you nodded slowly.

"Sounds like a shithead."

"Yeah," you let out the briefest laugh and then fiddled with the zipper tab. "He kind of is."

You complained about perfect Michael and his perfect life until your stomach rumbled and Eddie offered to order dinner for the two of you. When you mentioned that you hadn't eaten all day, he made sure you had more than your fill of beef lo mein and garlic string beans as Monty Hall played on the television.

At a certain point, your takeout carton made it to the coffee table and you started to doze off as your head rested on his shoulder. It was a relief, but only for a second, because you startled back awake and dumped all the clothes out of your bag again.

"I didn't pack the right dress," you muttered. "Aunt Amelia's gonna say something about it. I just know."

So Eddie stayed up with you all night as you packed and unpacked and packed again, uncaring that he had school in the morning or Hellfire that night. Fuck it all. It didn’t matter. None of the doubts and self-hatred and worry that had plagued him all week since Sunday night even crossed his mind. All that he worried about was making sure you weren't alone.

When dawn came, and you tiredly tried to wave him out of your apartment so that he could get ready for class and you could hit the road, he pulled you into his arms and just...held you.

He closed his eyes and rocked you back and forth as you hummed softly and gripped the back of his t-shirt tightly beneath his jacket.

He thought of all the things that he could say in that moment...

Drive safe, call me tonight so I know you got there, I'm sorry, take it easy on yourself, it's not your fault.

...but none of them were able to fall from his lips.

"Welp," you sighed. "This is it."

But neither of you moved.

"Thank you for coming over Eddie. I really really appreciate it."

Still nothing. No forward momentum, no motivation to move on to the rest of the day without one another, no reassuring words from him to give you the strength you needed to go forth alone, and no will for him to leave you.

You'd both be ready when you were ready, it seemed.

But as you finally pulled away from him, and he thought about you getting in your car and driving for what might be one of the toughest weekends of your life, all he managed to say...

"Why don't I come with you? I know it's not a road trip or fun or anything. I know I have school and work but...fuck it. We can stop at the trailer, I'll leave a note for Wayne and grab the nicest clothes I own, and...I'll come with you. I just...I don't want you doing this all alone."

...resulted in him sitting in the passenger's seat of your car for 5 hours as you zoomed down the highway away from his whole life in Indiana to the great unknown of Chicago.

---

You talked for a majority of the drive.

Eddie already knew some things about your family—strict parents, pesky brothers, too many cousins than he could keep track of—but you seemed to want to prepare him because he would effectively meet all of them.

"Big Catholic family and a funeral," you glanced at him from the corner of your eye and shot a tense smile. “It's a lot. You sure you still want to come?”

You’d done that throughout the drive too, asked him if he was sure he wanted to come with you. He’d joked several times already that you’d have to leave him on the side of the road, which you wouldn’t, or turn back altogether if he chickened out.

Besides, he already called Jeff when you stopped at his place to let him grab some clothes, and canceled Hellfire; he wouldn’t chicken out for anything. He needed to be here for you.

If he was being honest, yes he was nervous. He hadn’t met any girlfriends' families before or anything, and this whole situation wasn’t exactly the way he’d ever imagined meeting yours. As you crossed the state border into Illinois, though, your breath got shallow and your hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, and Eddie wondered if you were looking for a way out because you never wanted the two parts of your life—family and friends—to clash.

“I don’t, uh,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I know I’m not someone that…families approve of or anything, if that's why you keep asking if I want to be here.”

"It's not that--" you tried to interject.

"And I know we're not dating or anything but..." he trailed off awkwardly and then cleared his throat.

Well that was one way of sticking his foot in his mouth.

Your head was half turned towards him, jaw dropped, eyes darting back and forth from the road to him.

The thought of opening the car door and bailing as you zoomed down the highway briefly crossed his mind because he fucked up. Why would he say something like that? It was because he was a big dingus, actually, the biggest.

"Uh, Eddie listen--"

"No," he interrupted you again. "Sweetheart I'm sorry, that's...that wasn't fair of me. I didn't mean...I just..."

"No it's ok, we should ta--"

"I just thought that...I know I pretty much intruded on this trip, but I wanted to be here for you. But if me being here is gonna cause more problems for you...I mean damn, I don't mind taking a Greyhound back to Hawkins even. But more than anything, I want to make sure you're alright."

He nervously picked at the loose threads on the holes at his knees and was surprised when you took a hand off the steering wheel and grabbed his.

"Do you know," you whispered, voice barely audible. "I think I would have turned back by now if I tried to come alone. Michael on the phone...god I don't know how my dad's gonna be...or my aunt. I don't want to have to deal with all of that. But I know I need to be there...it's for my Papa, I have to be there.

"It's hard to go home when you've moved someplace else. When you've started to find home somewhere else. And I wasn't gonna say anything. I wasn't gonna ask you--it's too much to ask--but I secretly kind of hoped that you would ask to come along. And I'll never be able to really thank you, Eddie, for wanting to be here. For me.

"But thank you," you shot him a smile and squeezed his hand tightly.

He swallowed thickly and squeezed right back.

"I'll be here for as long as you need me to be, sweetheart. As long as you want me to be."

---

The weekend was a whirlwind, and honestly, Eddie knew he wasn't going to be able to make heads or tails of it until the two of you got home on Sunday night.

The first surprise, shortly after your heartfelt moment in the car, was the fact that you didn't actually live in Chicago. You'd been approaching the city on I-90, you even pointed out the Sears Tower to him. Then you got on an exit and drove for another 20 minutes down North Avenue.

"I feel like I've been lied to," he sniffed petulantly.

"I told you I'm from the suburbs before," you chuckled at his antics. "And it might as well be Chicago, it's all Cook County."

"We're not even driving North, how is this North Avenue?"

"We don't have time for a history lesson, we'll be there soon."

Still, it was exciting. Not exactly what he pictured in his head from watching shows on TV or seeing news reels about the city, but nonetheless different from what he was used to in Hawkins and that was the part he liked.

At a certain point, you reached a stretch of road that featured certain destinations that would live in Eddie's imagination until he could ask you about them--KiddieLand Amusement Park, Riviera Lanes, and Winston Plaza--and Eddie noticed your hands started to shake.

"You ok? There's plenty of places to pull over," he suggested. "I can drive the rest of the way."

"No it's ok," you said and swung a left-hand turn onto a residential street with houses that sort-of all looked the same, sort-of all looked different. "We're here."

You parked on the street in front of a house that you noted belonged to your aunt, and then led him down a narrow sidewalk to the backyard of the neighboring house, where a kid gangly enough to rival Mike Wheeler sat in a plastic lawn chair with headphones on, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes closed.

"Jimmy," you called to him and then kicked his foot. "Jimmy. James Joseph, wake up."

"I'm awake," he startled, knocked the headphones down so they sat around his neck, and stood up. Even with one hand rubbing his eye, your brother's resemblance to you was obvious, and a sense of dread washed over Eddie.

And so it began...meeting your family.

Jimmy was probably the best introduction of them all--there was an ease between the two of you, even with the snide jabs and banter back and forth--and that extended to Eddie. Especially when Jimmy realized that he and Eddie were wearing the same shirt.

"Don't let him fool you, he's a dweeb," you announced when Jimmy got excited over a shared love for Judas Priest, and Eddie hoped you meant your brother, but he couldn't be too sure you weren't referring to him.

There was a brief respite as you both rested for a minute, changed clothes, and ate a plate of some sort of casserole from the packed shelves of the avocado fridge in your grandpa's kitchen. Then it was an onslaught, a domino effect of faces and names that gradually got more important as you got back into the car to head towards the funeral home.

A sea of strange faces that smiled and hugged you and then looked over at Eddie in question, but not in an unwelcome way, and he was glad he'd pilfered a black scrunchie from your bag to tie his hair back respectfully.

You introduced him to this old coworker of your Papa and that great-aunt from Minneapolis and this cousin. He even got to meet your old store manager--a stern, short, blonde woman with victory rolls and shimmering black eyeshadow--who'd come to pay her respects after she saw your Papa's obituary in the newspaper; she honestly scared Eddie a little, but she made him laugh, which meant she was good in his book.

It was all reminiscent of meeting people after his mom died once upon a time, the only other funeral he'd ever been to. When people called and came out of the woodwork in an overwhelming number to offer their condolences. He had been young and sad then, but he was older, wiser, and tougher now. He shook hands and said "nice to meet you" and when people questioned whether he was a boyfriend, Eddie insisted he was just a friend who wanted to be here for you.

It wasn't a lie; still he got a skeptical gaze from at least two elderly women who tutted once they were out of earshot.

Eventually, you got to the front of the room, to the row of chairs that held your immediate family, and after a few tearful hugs, Eddie finally met your parents, your aunt and uncle, and your older brother.

He was surprised to hear "I've heard a lot about you" come from your mother's mouth, but was not surprised to hear the "no funny business under my roof" from your father after a clap on the shoulder. Your uncle said nothing after a short “hello”, just let your aunt do all the talking, and all she could talk about was your appearance.

"What are you doing, honey? What is this you're wearing? For Papa's wake? I hope you plan to wear something a little more modest for my father's funeral tomorrow. And your friend? A leather jacket? A little casual don't you think? What's that dear? Yes, nice to meet you too Edward. Thank you for coming."

Your brother Michael, though...Michael was a douchebag to put it in polite terms, and Eddie could tell that, unlike with Jimmy, the relationship between you was tense.

"You're late" he sniffed judgmentally instead of a greeting.

"We hit traffic and needed to change," you snarked right back.

"So you stopped off at home? Where's Jim? Why couldn't you get him here?"

"You know how he is at these things, he'll show up before they close up for the night. You remember how he was when Nana died. And now he's Mr. Tough Guy. He doesn't like to cry."

Back and forth the two of you went, Michael's accusations and your tense responses. Eddie could feel himself get more and more irritated the harsher it got, the angrier he felt you become. If it was anything other than a funeral--a wake, what was the difference--he would have started in on your brother several minutes ago to protect you.

And he was still tempted to.

But it was like a switch was flipped as someone else approached, and he watched as you changed right before his very eyes. As all the irritation and vulnerabilities left you, and in their place...was the Store Manager version of you he knew and sort of despised. Cold and stiff and everything he knew you weren't by the grace of becoming your friend.

Regardless, it was startling to see.

At the end of the night as Eddie settled into the second twin bed in what used to be Michael and Jimmy's shared room, Eddie realized that your customer service persona had been present for most of the evening, and had only slipped in the presence of those few family members that could see right past it.

Could they see past it? Or was it that you simply couldn't hide behind it with them?

For the whole time he'd known you, Eddie had often wondered what had driven you to Indiana. The job, sure, but...you'd left everything you'd known behind. And hell, for all the times that he wanted to get the hell out of Hawkins, he knew he couldn't leave Wayne or Rick for very long. In his heart he knew the day he finally left, he'd need to be back quite often to see them.

Now, though...when it came to you, he started to understand.

---

The next day, the day of the funeral, you couldn't stop shaking.

Eddie had been nervously second guessing the black jeans--the only non-ripped pair he owned--and Wayne's borrowed dress shirt when he saw you digging through your bag, trembling. It seemed like you were trying to hide it, kept your body moving and grabbing for something, but he noticed immediately,

He snatched the car keys out of your hands before you could get a solid grasp on them when it was time to go.

"It's alright," he reassured you. "Just tell me where I'm going and I'll get us there."

He thought it would be back to the funeral home, but instead you gave him directions to the church. A big old building with stained glass windows and a large statue of the Virgin Mary out in the front.

He could hear the organ music of the hymns emanating from within, and on the hour, the bells from the tower beside the chapel became deafening. For all the Catholic school girl jokes he made at your expense, he didn't realize you were Catholic Catholic.

"You sure I'm not gonna burst into flames if I set foot inside?" he joked to try and ease your nerves and his, but you just shook your head. He watched and suddenly felt helpless, as you began to shake more and worry your bottom lip with your teeth; he was supposed to be here to support you, to reassure you, and instead you looked ready to keel over. "Hey, it'll be ok."

"Yeah," you nodded tensely. "Yeah, let's just go inside."

You didn't make a move though, just rocked onto the toes of your shiny Mary Janes and looked on as tons of people filtered into the church.

Tons of people that, once again, reminded him of the people that had come to pay their respects for his mom. Eddie remembered being there, shaking in his shoes, trying to keep a straight-face, to be strong. To not be a baby because he was 10 years old.

It was just like you said about Jimmy the previous night; big tough guy, didn't want to cr--

Oh.

Realization hit Eddie. The culmination of all the other realizations that had been mounting over the past what? 48 hours? Maybe the past week? The two of you were more alike than he realized. Eddie had just noticed how you'd put up this strong front since you'd been home; the comfortable, safe Store Manager facade was starting to crack. Hadn't he just told you the story about his mom's funeral? How he'd fallen in love with metal because Rick had realized that he needed to process his grief? That he needed to lash out? To cry?

Here he was, trying to get you to laugh, when instead he should have been doing the opposite. But how was he gonna get you to cry? You didn't even cry much at the wake when you'd placed your hand on top of the shiny casket that held your Papa within.

Maybe it just hadn't hit you yet?

Alright, change of plans.

"Your Papa knew a lot of people," Eddie noted, gesturing towards the funeral-goers.

"He did," you agreed, and he watched as your shoulders lost the slightest bit of tension. "He was...I mean you met my cousin last night. The one who wants to run for Mayor."

"Yeah, he's got that yuppie thing about him."

"Well, my Papa could have been Mayor if he wanted," you said with the most conviction he'd ever heard in your voice. "He just didn't want to. Which means he deserved it even more. He was the nicest neighbor, the best friend. He went and played competitive Bocce at the civic center and fundraised for charity and canned his own peaches to give to people."

On and on, you talked about Papa's recipe for this and his idea for that and...

"And the way he fucking chain smoked god damn it Eddie," you hit his arm as he pulled his cigarettes from the back pocket of his jeans.

Eddie thought that, at the very least, an emotional story would be the thing that would set you over the edge. Instead it was the pack of Marlboro Reds that he'd picked up when you had stopped for gas about halfway through the drive.

You hit his arm a few times, as you often did when you tried to playfully admonish him for this or that, then your face crumpled. Your shaking ceased as you collapsed against him and buried your face against his shoulder once again, just like you had when he first arrived at your apartment on Thursday night.

He dropped the cigarettes and folded his arms around you, pulled you into the safety of your friendship when it seemed like there wasn't anything safe out there for you right now; when you'd just lost one of the safe places you had in the world.

He whispered sweet words--comforts and reassurances--and he made you laugh once by threatening to punch your brother if he tried to make a scene.

"I'll do it," he goaded you. "I don't care if he's in mourning too. He's insufferable. Hate that guy. Never coming back to Chicago ever if he's still in town. You hear that? I might have to leave right now."

"No," you tugged him closer to you, and he reveled in the feeling. "You're staying right here. You promised."

"I did," he agreed.

The tense hold you had on him got looser and you hiccuped the last few tears you had.

A few yards away, a hearse pulled up to the curb in front of the church, and your brothers and several of your cousins went to start hauling the casket inside.

"You ready to go in?" Eddie asked. "You don't have to...but..."

"No," you shook your head and pulled back from him. "I'm ok. I'm ready."

"Good."

He waited for you to make the first move once again, but before you did, you took his hand in yours and squeezed.

"He would have been...so happy to have met you, Eddie," you looked at him earnestly. "I told him all about you. I think it hurts a little more...knowing that he didn't get the chance."

He squeezed your hand right back and smiled.

"I'm sad I didn't get the chance either. Guess I'm gonna have to work extra hard not to go to Hell so I can shake his hand in Heaven."

You snorted and pushed him away with a soft jackass then pulled him into the church with you saying he would have made the same joke.

---

The next morning, you and Eddie made a stealthy getaway.

Your father had tried to get you both to go to church with them again and you politely declined.

"We need to get on the road so we don't get back too late. I have to open tomorrow," you made the excuse.

Honestly Eddie was grateful; all the sitting and standing and kneeling...he hadn't gotten that much exercise since gym class Freshman year.

But as you soared back down North Avenue, you made a detour.

"I know this wasn't supposed to be a fun trip," you explained. "If you're up for it, we can make the drive back whenever...maybe during spring break or something? The least I can do before we head back to Hawkins, to thank you for coming, is give you a taste of good Chicago food. Especially after casseroles and funeral home sandwiches all weekend.

"It is Sunday, after all."

And that's how Eddie found himself having his first authentic Chicago style hot dog. Sitting on a picnic bench outside, under a red and yellow striped umbrella, the ambient sounds of cars zooming and your banter back and forth the perfect backdrop.

"No ketchup, are you kidding me right now Eddie?" you swatted his hand.

"Why do they have ketchup if they don't want it on the hot dog," he argued.

"It's for the fries and the fries only. You need to have the whole experience. A hot dog with everything, and ketchup on the fries only."

He watched as you unwrapped your hotdog and began picking through the toppings. Hypocrite.

"Wait, I thought you said you needed to have the whole experience, why are you taking the peppers off."

"I don't like the peppers."

"Are you kidding me right now?" Eddie scoffed. "Gonna have to take your Chicago Card away. Oh wait, I'm sorry. Suburb card."

"Oh my god, just eat. Before I leave you here."

He took his first bite and his tastebuds sang, as you munched on a French fry with a cheeky smile.

And Eddie was happy. Happy to be here with you. Sundays were his favorite days, hands down, and he would do everything in his power to keep them that way.

It might not have been the happiest weekend, there might still be some unanswered questions between the two of you. But you were here with him and you were still friends, and after everything that had happened, that's all Eddie could ask for.

Next Part: Closing Time

[desperate-gay]

Hey could you maybe write something about a Love story proposal??? You could write it for Leah,Steph or Frida Maanum. Reader and player are at the eras tour and reader gets a proposal

I really need a story like that cause love story proposals are all over my Tik tok

Baby Just Say Yes

Steph Catley x fem!reader

“Stephy hurry we’re gonna be late!” You yell out to the Australian while adjusting the sash that hangs its way over your body.

You and Steph decided to dress as Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince, her wearing a crown and a button-up with little broken hearts drawn on her skin as you wear a tiara and a dress with the iconic sash around you.

Steph surprised you with eras tickets on your anniversary knowing just how much you love Taylor Swift. You were ecstatic and still are now, pinching yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming. You’ve won many trophies but seeing your favorite singer and celebrity in concert is surreal, especially because of the harsh demand for her tickets.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

You turn around and see her pink button-up shirt with a white crop top under it. You reach out, grabbing both sides of her collar, and pull her in, her hands resting on your hips as you both stare at each other with loving smiles. Pulling her in by her shirt, you press your lips to her soft ones for an affectionate kiss. Neither of you wanting to pull away, the kiss lasts longer than expected, making the time fly past the both of you.

“We really need to go.” You whisper against her but she just hums and leans right back in, letting you melt right back into her. “No, no no no no. We’ve gotta go or it’s going to be even more of a pain getting in.” You finally move away so you’re not tempted to get pulled in again.

Your hand grabs hers, dragging her groaning figure out the door much to her dismay, and begin to make your way over to the car. Double checking you have everything, you go to open your door but quickly get pushed aside by the girl.

“There you go, my love.” She opens the car door chivalrously as if she didn’t just shove you completely to do it. You shake your head with laughter, accepting her hand to help you sit down.

“Ever the gentlewoman.”

—

“Have you ever thought just maybe, you belong with me!” You and Steph sing to each other, hips swaying with the beat of the song, enjoying every minute of the concert so far.

Lover has already passed so now it’s Fearless, one of your absolute favorite eras. Distracted by having such a good time, you haven’t noticed the slight change in Steph’s demeanor, her being more tense than usual.

The box sitting in her pocket makes her thoughts swirl and her hands sweat. You’re the love of her life and she’s sure of it, but what if you suddenly feel like she’s not yours? You have constantly assured her that there is no one else for you than her, but maybe you’ve changed your mind suddenly. What if you don’t want to marry her?

Multiple different outcomes run through her head but seeing you smile at her, singing Love Story, all those negative thoughts disappear.

The big verse starts to approach as she reaches into her pocket to pull out the velvet box, getting down on one knee while you’re distracted singing along and looking at the platform. You turn over to sing the verse to her but when you do, there isn’t anyone. Quickly moving your head, you see your girlfriend with a ring out and a bright grin on her face. Your hand slaps onto your mouth and you kneel down next to the Australian, tears slipping down your cheeks.

Over the loud music, Steph makes a little speech, “Fearless is your favorite era and I thought there was no better way to do this than right now. I have seen the multiple proposals you’ve saved on TikTok, so I wanted to make ours one of them. Sure there are thousands of people in this stadium with us but it feels like it’s just me and you. So what do you say, marry me, Juliet?”

You quickly nod your head and extend your hand for the girl to slip the ring on. Steph hugs you while pulling you both up to stand and sway to the music. The crowd around you cheers in celebration, some most likely recording the interaction which will soon be put across the internet, seeing that two famous footballers just got engaged at one of the most selling tours ever.

Steph steps back, digging something out of her other pocket, causing your face to scrunch up in confusion. She grabs your sash and opens a red marker, crossing out the Miss and changing it to Mrs.

“Now it makes sense.” She shrugs, putting the marker away and bringing you in for a loving kiss.

The rest of the concert is filled with you two dancing, singing, kissing, and embracing each other in the moment. A few hours ago you were excited about going to a concert and now you’re even more excited to marry the love of your life. 13 is Taylor’s lucky number, 7 is yours.

[strawhatkia]

sundress season.

INCLUDES ! 1610!miles and hobie brown x black!fem!reader

GENRE ! fluff

SYNOPSIS ! they see you in a sundress for the first time

WARNINGS ! character and reader are not together...yet!,

WORD COUNT ! 0.6k

A/N ! the way this was suppose to be the whole spider crew plus miguel and i got tired not even half way through....this just gon be a lil tester but this is getting deleted and revamped later !

reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍

MAIN MASTERLIST | SPIDER VERSE MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

— ☾⋆⁺₊🌻🖌✧ SPIDER-MILES !

i cannot fathom to you how flustered this boy gets on a regular day when y'all really not doing anything. the boy already really likes how you look in your regular uniform or just casual street clothes so when rio and jeff invite you over for the carne asada/cookout and you popped in a sundress of all things, he kinda doesn't know how to act.

oh, and his parents find it absolutely hilarious. this is really the time where him being jeff's son and aaron's nephew really shines through. he's awkward about it and can't seem to get through any of his sentences.

he really likes the way it fits you and the color compliments you well but he has such a hard time for like a good 30 minutes. eventually, aaron comes to save him and gives him a tip of going to get some drinks for the both of you and take you somewhere private to talk.

not to mention, his whole family thinks you two are too cute for words and takes every chance to mention how much of a good couple you two make. once you come back over to get something to eat, you are bombarded by multiple family members. miles is definitely nervously laughing to get through the embarrassment of all them making the most outlandish comments and gave up after the 4th tia said how lucky he is to have you.

— ☾⋆⁺₊🎸🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 ✧ HOBIE BROWN !

this is literally the world's boldest man ever, he truly don't give a fuck whose watching. you were actually in the middle of a block party when you were called to debrief about a mission. not to be bothered to put on your suit (especially since peter b. walks around in a pink robe of all things), you step through the portal in your sundress and sandals.

certainly not the first time hq has seen you out of uniform but the sundress has you grabbing compliments left and right from all the spider people present (even miguel, which was surprising). it would be hobie to see you last though. he was originally talking to pav who was rambling on about his recent date with gayatri again when he catches a glimpse of you pass by to go into the meeting room with miguel and jessica.

now in my eyes, hobie immediately tunes out of pav's conversation at once to focus all of his attention on you and makes the split decision to follow you in there. it's not like jessica will care enough to kick him out and he does not care what miguel has to say. quite frankly, the man only sees you at the moment and that doesn't even catch up to him until he's right in front of you.

then in the thickest accent possible, he flirts endlessly throughout the entire meeting. the man has no sense of personal space around his friends and it's only ten times worse with you. hanging off your shoulders, wrapping his long arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder while hugging from behind. you do your best to acknowledge, because ignoring him will not work and only make it worse, but to also get through the meeting.

it's easy to chalk it up as hobie being a physical person but there's only so much to explain the way he feels up on the material of the dress, making comments that make you feel like you're blushing and distract from whatever miguel was saying before he gave up and just told you to come in later. without hobie.

leaving the meeting was easier than staying in it but now you gotta deal with a very cocky spiderman that is doing his absolute best to talk you into coming back to his dimension. (pav is watching from a distance with a bag of popcorn, squealing over how many of his friends are having romance novel moments)

©STRAWHATKIA ━ all rights reserved. all content published on this blog belongs to starsoir. please refrain from copying, stealing, profiting off my works, or using my works for asmr related work. i don’t allow my works to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍

wanna read more ??

check back later !

taglist: @mypimpademia @cosmiles @megurulvr @dreampurpledreams

[hexalianrebel-blackfeathers]

British Taxi

Panda's Notes: It's done!! The third of what was only three ideas I had for Across the Spider-Verse! ...I have at least three more ideas now. >w< I had so much fun with this one, so I hope you guys like it too. [Ao3] || [Commissions] || [Ko-fi]

“’Sup, losers?” Hobie threw up a peace sign to the small group sitting at a table in the HQ cafeteria. “Aye, Mayday.”

The trio, plus Mayday, kind of just…stared. Mayday laughed, and the others were struggling not to smile.

“Okay, what are you two doing?” Gwen finally spoke up, motioning curiously at this little arrangement. Only at the mention of there being two of them did Miles start snickering. He slightly adjusted his hold on Hobie’s legs, pacing in a small circle and looking particularly proud of himself. Hobie had one arm hooked around his shoulders, his chin occasionally resting on his head.

“Don’t really understand the question, Gwenny.” Hobie shrugged, draping his free arm lazily over Miles’ shoulder. “Ain’t doin’ much.”

“Miles, what are you doing?” She tried again, barely managing to stifle her giggles.

Miles shrugged, chuckling a bit himself. “I dunno; it was his idea.” The others around the table nodded, and Hobie stuck his tongue out at them. “He’s not even heavy; his legs are just really long.”

“Not my fault you’re still a munchkin.” He poked the side of Miles’ head, smirking as he huffed.

“Well, it’s not my fault you look like a palm tree.”

“Oi—”

Miles spun casually, and the others giggled. “Gotta be honest; I feel like I could have picked him up before the spider strength. Like, have you guys even seen this guy eat anything? I have literally never seen him eat food.”

“Alright, you’re takin’ the Mick, I’m out.” Hobie shook his head and leaned back. He pressed his palms to the floor, heaving Miles up off the ground with his legs with hardly any effort.

“H-Hobie!” Miles yelped, flailing for a moment before sticking his hands to Hobie’s boots and pushing himself up. The table laughed and applauded softly at their double handstand, and Hobie chuckled, reaching to adjust his guitar before turning to face them.

“You two are something else.” Peter chuckled, watching Gwen crouch on the floor to get a picture of them.

“Always.” Hobie smirked, pulling a face as the camera flashed and smirking when Gwen socked his arm. “Oi, shorty, you want to switch?”

“What? And have you perched on my legs? Not likely.” Miles called.

Hobie snorted, starting to shift as if he were going to throw him off. “Nah, bruv, I’ll carry you. Go for a walkabout and all.”

Miles’ eyes had lit up, but he quickly acted as if they hadn’t. “Seriously?” He struggled for balance before pushing himself away as Hobie rolled out from under him.

“Never serious, mate.” He said with a sneer, hopping to his feet and starting to walk. “But I’ll still do it.”

“Uh, Miles, maybe you should—”

Miles turned to see Gwen shoving at Pavitr’s face, and she motioned him to follow after Hobie with a bright grin.

Hobie had glanced back with a noticeable smirk, schooling his expression as Miles turned to him again. Pavitr bat Gwen’s hand away once they were definitely out of earshot.

“Why didn’t you let me warn him?” He asked, smiling bemusedly.

She just shrugged, already snickering to herself. “Nobody warned me!”

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

Hobie had walked Miles to one of the nearby basic training rooms: not as big as, say, the rooms for swinging practice, or even the hallways just outside. But it was quiet, and Hobie took a deep breath before stretching a bit.

“So, you’re really going to do this, huh?” Miles asked with a skeptical grin. “You’re not too cool to carry me around?”

“I do what I want, mate; that’s what makes me cool.” Hobie joked, shoving lightly at Miles’ face. “’Less you don’t want to all of a sudden. Ain’t one or the other for me.”

He smirked as Miles swatted his arm away, watching him fidget around with his sleeves and hood for a second. He brought his own hands up, finding the buckle on his guitar strap to loosen it. He didn’t move much or comment as Miles approached him, holding his guitar slightly to one side while the teen crawled up onto his back.

“You sure we’re okay like this?” Miles referred mostly to Hobie’s guitar, grabbing ahold of it himself after hooking his legs around Hobie’s waist.

“S’alright, bruv.” He murmured as he tightened the strap and glanced back just in case. “Besides, you won’t catch me dead without my axe on me.” Finally, he lowered his arms, slipping them under Miles’ knees when he relaxed and pacing in a small circle. “Good?”

Miles chuckled and nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Alright, then, let’s see about that little tour, yeah?”

As he turned to walk toward the door, he suddenly pitched to one side; his knee bending dramatically as he took the step.

“Hobie!” Miles yelped and wrapped his arms around Hobie’s shoulders, surprised giggles catching his voice before he could stop them.

“Yeah, mate?” He pushed himself sharply to stand up straight, bouncing his passenger slightly before leaning the opposite way for another sideways step.

“What are you doing?!” Miles tried to ask, his voice jumping up when Hobie stumbled backwards as if he was falling.

He stopped instantly, probably just sticking his feet down, and glanced sideways to hear him better. “Hm? Nothin here. What do you think I’m doing?” Miles could hear the smirk on his face as Hobie casually shuffled back and forth, and he tried not to laugh again as he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not walking straight.” He said as shortly as possible, holding on a bit tighter as Hobie spun on one foot for a few seconds.

“Heh.” Hobie snickered, glancing down before moving backwards again. “Haven’t done anything straight in my life, brother.”

Miles laughed this time, giving Hobie a light smack on his shoulder. “That’s a terrible way to come out to someone.”

“Yeah? What would you know about it?”

Miles almost hesitated, but he leaned and whispered into Hobie’s ear.

“No shit?” He laughed lightly, spinning around again before continuing his backwards slide. “You are aces, my guy. One of a kind.”

Miles grinned softly, his gaze trailing down to the floor. “Wait, you can moonwalk?!”

“Oh, is it hard?” Hobie scoffed teasingly. “What do ya think, eh? We good to walkabout?”

“I am barely trusting you to walk right now.” Miles admitted, and Hobie proved his point by walking sideways again. “You’re being weird!” He laughed.

Hobie stopped abruptly, jostling his passenger. “Wanna be in on a little secret, mate?” He turned his head, not quite enough for Miles to see his face, though.

Miles couldn’t help being wary, and he shifted his legs to keep hold of Hobie’s waist. “If you have one to tell me.”

Hobie chuckled, shaking his head. “See, thing is: I cannot fucking stand backseat drivers.” He sighed, maintaining a tone as if he were serious. “So, if you want to start harpin’ on, I just might do something drastic.”

He didn’t give Miles a chance to ask questions, shifting his hands under both of his knees and hooking his fingers in as best he could. He smirked at the sudden cackles that shot past his ears, and Miles shoved at his shoulder and leaned back against Hobie’s guitar, barely getting any leeway from the guitar strap.

“Hobie!” He cried through his laughter. “Asshole, cut it out!” He tried to kick and flailed against his back.

“You gonna shut your South back there? Let me drive in peace?” Hobie gripped his knees tight when Miles tried to lift his legs out, pressing his thumbs against the sides of his kneecaps.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Miles squealed, gripping Hobie’s vest as he stopped.

“Good. Let’s roll.” Hobie lurched forward a bit suddenly, chuckling as Miles squeaked. “Want me to run? Make up lost time?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You wanna?”

“No.”

“I’m hearing yes.”

“Don’t you—” Miles yelped as he ran for maybe three steps.

Hobie laughed tauntingly, letting Miles give him light punches on his shoulders. “Alright, alright. For real.” The door opened automatically as they approached, and Hobie strode confidently into the hallway traffic.

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

“So, mate, what was all that rubbish about me being easy to carry, eh?” Hobie spoke after a minute of wandering. Only a few of the Peters that they passed by even noticed Miles attached to him, let alone commented. Miles mostly hid his face against the back of his neck, sneaking little waves at anyone who managed to notice him. “Like you aren’t acting a proper rucksack?”

“Can you maybe speak less British?” Miles asked playfully, stifling a squeak when Hobie tickled his legs again.

He snorted, moving a little faster and jostling Miles more aggressively as if he were a backpack. “Oh, you’re fuckin’ hilarious aren’t ya?”

Miles gripped onto Hobie’s vest again, trying to steady himself and muffling giggles against his shoulder. “Kidding! I was kidding; stop…” He whispered through snickers. Hobie flinched a little as Miles’ breath passed his neck, and he turned his head slightly when Miles went quiet.

“You try anything, and I’ll end you.” He said, unable to keep up a stern façade with his voice. He did sneak a warning little scratch under one of his knees again though, just in case. He snickered along with Miles’ giggles, hooking his arms around his legs to slip his hands into his pockets.

“Spider-Punk.” Both of them looked forward to find Miguel approaching, and Hobie kept walking as the man spoke. “Have you seen Morales?”

“Not lately.” Hobie said curtly, speeding up just a little bit.

Miguel sighed, his eyes on some projection from his watch. “Well, when you do see him, tell him I—” He had turned to call after him, heaving a sigh when he realized. “Really?”

“What?” Hobie turned to face him, walking backwards a few steps with Miles snickering nervously. “Ain’t seen him; what of it?” He struggled to keep the grin off his face, shrugging casually and turning back to continue.

“Miles!” Miguel called, already sounding irritated as he started to follow them.

“Hobie, run.” Miles whispered, his nervous giggles turning mischievous.

“Hm? What~? You wanna run now, mate?”

“C’mon, Hobie, please?” He glanced back to see Miguel glaring at them.

“I dunno; seems like he really wants to talk to you.” Hobie actually started to slow his pace.

“Hobie!”

Hobie’s Spider Sense had started tingling as soon as Miguel got all pissy, and the second he reached for Miles’ shoulder, Hobie broke into a sprint. Most of the other Spider People’s senses warned them in time, but he had no problem shouldering past whoever he had to. Miles laughed brightly, hooking his arms across Hobie’s neck and squeezing his legs tight around his waist.

“Hobart Brown!” Miguel shouted after them, and they heard footsteps gaining on them.

“Oh, shit.” Hobie laughed a bit himself. “You need to hold on, mate.” He shifted mid-step, springing up and throwing them both over the guardrail. He hooked one arm tight around Miles’ leg as they started to freefall, taking a necessary second to flip Miguel off with his free hand before firing his web-shooter at the underside of the catwalk they had just abandoned. He pulled them up to stick underneath it, and he quickly crawled to the nearest wall. He pulled them both back up the open tower with another shot of web, sticking himself as best he could into a corner between two of the crisscrossing walkways.

They hunkered down and caught their breath, watching Miguel from essentially three stories away. His gaze whipped back and forth over both sides of the catwalk, seemingly expecting them to just pop out from the middle, and Hobie’s hands might have clenched against the wall. Miles was clinging tightly onto his back, but he was shaking like a leaf and barely keeping it together.

“Stop laughing.” Hobie whispered through half-gritted teeth, lightly punching back at his passenger’s side. “Shut the fuck up, right now.” He had to sound demanding, because he was definitely going to start laughing if Miles didn’t stop.

“I’m sorry!” Miles whispered back, a snort slipping out of him.

Finally, Miguel heaved a tired sigh and kept walking, and Hobie visibly relaxed as he went into one of the enclosed corridors.

And finally, they laughed. They still tried to keep quiet about it, but the tension drained away as Hobie climbed over onto the nearest walkway.

“Oh my God, we’re in so much trouble…” Miles whined as laughter faded out of his voice.

“Heh, hell yeah.” Hobie chuckled. “Might want to ditch the watches before Blue gets on our ass. If it helps at all, I still haven’t seen ya.”

“Pfft. For some reason, I don’t think he’s going to buy tha—”

“What~? Miles, where are you~?” Hobie called to no one in particular, hardly even bothering to raise his voice.

“Wait, what?!” Miles giggled in disbelief. “What are you—?” He squeaked as Hobie turned suddenly.

“Ah, shit, I’ve lost track of him.” He twisted the other way, letting go of Miles’ legs without warning and resting his hands on his hips. “I’ll be damned; what do I tell the others?”

“Hobie?” Miles flinched as he almost slipped.

Hobie sighed a bit dramatically, shrugging. “Nothing for it but to tell them, I guess.”

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

Back in the cafeteria, both Peter and Pavitr had been absolutely battering Gwen with teasing little questions almost since Miles and Hobie had left.

“So, you were lying when you said Hobie’s never gone all tickle monster on you, huh?” Pavitr sang playfully, poking quickly up her side and giggling as she bat him away. “Ooh, I knew I should have told him you said that.”

“My threat still stands on what will happen if you do.” She said back, only to flinch nearly into his lap as Peter’s finger zipped up her spine.

“Pavi, you should know Spider-People start out as terrible liars.” He grinned, and Mayday made the sweetest noise as she pat Gwen’s arm.

Gwen whined as a faint blush crept across her cheeks, shaking her head and laughing softly with them.

“Oi! Fellas.” Hobie suddenly appeared, jogging up to the table and resting his hands on an empty chair. “Mayday. Ah, look, wildest thing: I might have lost our boy Miles.”

The trio, plus Mayday, kind of just…stared. Mayday laughed, and the others were struggling not to smile. Again.

“Oh, no, how could you?” Gwen, once again, made herself break the silence.

“I know; I know; kinda shite of me, but, see, I ran into Old Blue in the hall, and he asked about Miles. I turn ‘round and realize—” He turned, just to illustrate.

Miles reached out to them with one hand. “Help me…” He giggled, trying to whisper as he tightened his legs around Hobie’s waist.

“—realize I ain’t seen him since some minutes ago when we left here.” Hobie turned to face them again, except he spun around the long way before crossing his arms. “Started thinking about sending a search party. But he’s probably ‘right, y’know?”

“Oh, yeah, Miles is a big kid; he’ll be okay.” Peter nodded, reaching with his leg to nudge the chair Hobie had been leaning on. “You want to sit down, maybe?”

“Nah, pops, I’m good.” He shrugged, maintaining a completely straight face as he looked over at Pavitr struggling to contain himself.

“Okay, okay wait, so—” Pavitr called with a flail of his hands. “You haven’t seen him at all?”

“Not a peek.”

“Then what are you carrying?”

Hobie glanced over his shoulder as best he could. Miles poked his nose. He didn’t even smile. “’S my guitar, Pav, you know I always have it.”

Pavitr laughed in disbelief, looking over at Gwen. She just shrugged with a grin.

“Well, Hobie,” She decided to try. “Did you get some new, uh, accessories since we saw you last?”

“Don’t really see how that’s relevant, mate.” He rested his chin on one hand, a smile threatening his lips as Miles giggled into his shoulder.

“Is that a no?” She hopped out of her chair and approached them, and Hobie put his hands up innocently. “Then this is…” She reached out and poked Miles’ side, grinning as he pawed at her hand and tried to keep quiet. That only lasted the three seconds it took for her to decide to scribble all five fingers against his shirt.

“Gwen!” He laughed, one hand gripping tighter at Hobie’s vest as he reached to push her shoulder. “Hobie, come on!”

“Strangest thing, innit, but I do keep hearing his dumb little voice.” Hobie noted as he started to smirk. “Somewhere back here, like.” He reached back with one hand, his fingers scribbling under Miles’ chin and pulling out a barely stifled squeal. “I swear I’m going mental or someth—” His voice caught on a snort as Miles suddenly tickled along his exposed side, and he grabbed at the offending wrist with a sharp glare.

“Hobie, I think Miles might be attached to you.” Gwen declared, snickering into her hand. “Not positive though.”

“What, this?” He gestured purposefully with the arm he was holding, ignoring Miles’ halfhearted pulling and his little giggles. “Nah, nah, nah; this can’t be Miles, and I know it can’t be Miles because I specifically told Miles that I would end him if he tried some shit with me.”

“You told him that when you didn’t see him?” Gwen asked with a smirk, only to flinch when Hobie glared at her next.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Gwendy?” Hobie crowded close to her, shoving Miles’ hand into her face. “Tell you like I told him, though: you start something with me; I will end you.”

Hobie smirked as he stared her down. Miles poked her nose. She laughed.

“I can’t with you two!” She barely managed to say, and Hobie chuckled as he let go of Miles’ wrist and pulled her against his side.

“Aw, there she is.” He teased, sneaking squeezes on her side. “Love to see that smile, yeah?”

She gave him a playful push, sitting down in the chair Hobie had been standing over.

“Now, what was that you said about a little spider crawling on me?” He asked slowly, his smirk turning devious as his hands moved to squeeze and scribble at Miles’ sides as best he could.

Miles laughed brightly, pulling one of his own arms back to try and grab at Hobie’s wrists or cover his sides.

“Hobie, be nice.” Peter chuckled.

“Hm, wait, let me see—” Hobie’s hands hooked under his knees again, tickling along the backs of them and hoisting him back up when he started to slip.

Miles kicked his feet, his hands pressing on Hobie’s back as he leaned against the guitar strap. “Hobie, enough!” He giggled loudly, unable to squirm out of his hold.

Hobie’s hands went still, returning to nothing but holding him up. “Miles?! My guy, folks have been looking for you, y’know?” He teased, grinning when Miles groaned and leaned on his shoulder.

“Can I get down now?”

“I don’t know, mate, can you?” Hobie hooked another empty chair with his foot, dragging it closer to his side as he lifted his hands away.

“If you spin around again, I’m going to strangle you.” Miles landed one foot on the chair, sighing heavily as he finally sank down and flopped his head onto his arms.

“Damn, ya try to have a little fun around here.” Hobie pat Miles’ shoulders and ruffled his hair. “Right, then; rest up. Anyone else after a ride?”

“Oh, I will, definitely!” Pavitr jumped to his feet, eyes bright as anything. Gwen just chuckled and let her hand fall back to her lap.

Hobie snorted, nudging her with his elbow before cracking his knuckles. “Aw, don’t fret. I’ll tucker him out real quick for ya, Gwendy.”

[dawniedrella]

For some reason, this image makes me feel kinda sad idk why :(((

[SPOILERS]

(aka just me rambling abt stuff aksnjhbcjaka pardon me)

I always see Lan and Exe have this strong bond, being able to prevail through many battles together, even if it meant having to risk their own lives and all that... the more i think about it, the more it makes sense

I'm not fully well versed into battle network lore as i am with mmx lore but I always wondered if Lan knew that exe was actually based on his dead twin brother. Yes, he treats exe like his own brother but knowing where exe's data was from is something only Lan's father (and possibly his mother) know

Sometimes, putting yourself into Lan's shoes: imagine having to lose your netnavi a few times from battle and thinking theyre gone for good. I do see why, cuz I always see Exe as somewhat a polar opposite of Lan; the dutiful brother who's willing to take risks if it meant for the better good of the world or to just protect his family

But i feel worse for Dr. Hikari, for he's the one who created exe himself. He may have not fully moved on from the early infant death of his other son (Hub), therefore he used his deceased son's data to create Megaman.exe and gifted it to Lan on his birthday. Exe is a very important member in the family, especially to Mrs. Hikari (Dr. Hikari's wife), whom had to bear with the loss of her twin son. And having Exe around, either spending time with Lan, scolding him to do his work and listen to his parents, going to school with him, or even calling Lan's parents "Mom" and "Dad" gives Mrs. Hikari a sweet familial feeling.... a feeling as if her other son was still alive. At this point, Exe was not a netnavi, but their child: a child that they have lost too soon but was revived under the condition that they do not bear flesh, but digital strands of data.

I really WANNA RAMBLE MORE ABOUT THIS BUT I NEED TO SINK INTO MORE MEGAMAN BATTLE NETWORK CONTENT (I only played 2 games and watched the entirety of dubbed NT warrior so yeah HASBDBAKJ) rest of the stuff I knew was out of discovery

Still though, I just really love the concept behind Lan and Megaman.exe's bond and seeing so much possibilities behind it! Like what if we get an alternative universe where Exe was human instead of a netnavi (Hub Hikari ftw !!!) Or Exe meeting children suffering from the same disease he had (there was in the one of the games but i feel like that aspect should be explored more) I just feel like there would be more for them in store but for now we gotta wait THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TEDTALK

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Can we PLEASE see handyman Jason? In his own verse or just tinkering around in one of the predetermined verses? The head canon a couple weeks ago about him being a Home Depot dad is really just living in my brain tent free

Florida really was god's fucking waiting room, Jason thought, watching a neighborhood Karen and her matching Husband Darren tool by in pastel tennis gear on a gold cart, honking at him as they passed.

Ugh.

He grunted with effort and hefted his toolbox down. Still. I could be worse, he reflected. Being the black sheep. The disinherited son... he could be in jail instead of doing odd jobs for an apartment complex.

Walking away from Gotham and from the Red Hood had been hard. One of te hardest things he'd ever done but. There was freedom he'd never known now. Even if it meant having to see some truly horrific make out sessions with old people in the pool.

Still, as he walked up the walk to the town house, he didn't mind. Miss Maggie was a little dotty. But she was always nice and always offered him a drink and a snack before he left.

He knocked on the door and waited, listening to the sound of footsteps on the other side. Ready to look down into Miss Maggie's wizened little face. All big smiles and a nimbus of white curly hair- Instead he looked down and immediately felt his face go red.

Because he realized- too slowly that he was looking directly into decidedly not a face but a rack. A nice one.

"Can I help you?"

He jerked his eyes away and looked into the face of another woman- A young woman. Evidently trying to decide how angry she should be.

"I uh- Hi- I'm Jason- Jay- Maggie called about her sink?"

"She just went to lie down- I'll- well. I'm sure you know the way-" You step back and let him in and Jason nods, face still burning.

Should he apologize or just try to play it off? Jesus- "So who are-"

"Miss Maggie is my Aunt," you explain. "She had me come to stay... It was approved and-"

"You don't gotta explain. I think it's bullshit people have to get long-term guests approved. Especially if they own the place."

"Rules though," you shrug, "Soda? If I don't at least offer Aunt Maggie'll have a stroke."

"Sure," he said, following you the rest of the way down the hall, pleasedto see you pulled the cleaning supplies out of his way as he set his tools down. "If I don't at least take a soda she'll never let me hear the end of it.

[ellie-24]

Forbidden Fruit

Finally another installment set in my Big Daddy Elvis x assistant reader verse. Chronologically set after Maybe one day, but can be read as a stand alone. It's also not a reader-insert per se anymore because our lovely assistant has a name now. I hope you like it!! :)

Also I really gotta say a special thank you to the incomparable @whositmcwhatsit who made the whole thing readable and had some great tips! And thanks to @thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @be-my-ally @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love for being the most inspiring, awesome backup ever. (they're also the ones taking possible complaints regarding the word count, they're responsible for it)

Warnings: Elvis loves his guns, discussions of Elvis' health, mentions of alcohol, addiction, pills, light manipulation and gaslighting, a bit of period typical misogyny, a bit of smut at the end (oral, f receiving)

Word count: ~13.3 k

You had continued staying with him at night after that one episode where he nearly overdosed. Elvis’ night terrors weren’t comparable to what most people mean when they describe what they go through when it’s time to sleep. Being around Elvis meant to completely ignore and unlearn your natural sleeping pattern. Scratch that. Being around Elvis meant that you had to forget everything considered normal. Day to day activities were determined by his unpredictable and sometimes challenging moods. In your short time working for him you quickly learned to adjust and be done with it. More importantly to never question anything. Things just made more sense when you stopped thinking about them too hard.

That’s how you found yourself sitting at Elvis’ bed at 5 in the morning reading to him. Being around Elvis meant being nocturnal. Which also meant that going to bed at 5 AM was a sensible thing to do.

“He's always been like this.” Charlie said to you a few days earlier. “Billy told me he never slept well. Even before his rise to fame, as a child. I guess that just stuck. He never outgrew it.”

“I think it might just be a habit now. He obviously performs at night. Very late into the night, it's only natural for your body to adjust.” Jerry had interjected.

“Well, he takes his pills before a show. You know the ones that make him more... energetic.” you offered.

Jerry raised his eyebrows. “Energetic. That's a nice way to put it.”

You shrugged. “He takes them before his shows. They're probably still full in effect when he tries to go to sleep.” The two men hummed, the conversation apparently over.

Whether it was a combination of those or something else entirely. Whatever it was, it caused nearly everyone in his orbit to go to bed when the rest of the world woke up.

He insisted that you stayed by his side from the moment he laid down until he woke up again. Clearly this was far beyond your duty as a personal assistant, but you couldn’t help yourself. You knew he hated being alone with his mind for too long, claiming it would get weird up there. He often found solace in his faith, carrying a bible everywhere he went. His books on spiritualism and numerology were constant companions as well. When his sleeping pills wouldn’t do the job and he found himself thrashing back and forth in his bed, frustrated that he just couldn’t seem to find any rest, he reached out for his reading glasses and turned on the lamp. His mind was running at full speed anyway, so he might as well put it to use.

The only thing hindering him now was the pain in his eye. The doctor couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but sometimes it was nearly unbearable for him. His body was so accustomed to the medication that even the painkillers he took hours ago couldn’t give him any relief.

“Do me a favour, will ya? Read this to me?” He held out a book to you.

“Is it your eye?”

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at you. “...Nah, just wanna hear your sweet voice.” he mumbled with a grin.

In your one hand you now held Cheiro’s Book of Numbers, a very interesting choice for a bedtime story. (Don’t question things.) Your other hand was occupied holding his ring clad one. How he slept with all this jewellery was another mystery to you.

He closed his eyes and reached out for your hand, grasping it tight. You scooted closer to him. “I'm right here, E. I'll stay.”

He hummed and squeezed your hand even tighter.

Elvis certainly had to be the most physical and touchy person you’d ever known. You gently ran your thumb over his palm, assuring him the whole time. He’d sometimes grunt or hiss, his face scrunching up in pain, which caused you to stutter slightly. You tried to conceal it. Often you thought he had finally fallen asleep, his breathing evening out, his hand squeezing yours less and less.

However when you stopped reading, you’d hear him rumbling. “... Julie, be a sweetheart and read that last part again, will ya? Didn’t quite catch that.”

That was the exact sentence he mumbled every time you grew quiet. After the third time though, the sentence grew shorter and shorter each time until the only thing he eventually managed to get out was a slurred “Julie, sweetheart.”

You read aloud for two more minutes and when you stopped this time, there was no reaction from him. You closed the book with a sigh and put it on his night stand and checked the time. 7:48 AM. With a huff, you ran your hands over your face, wanting nothing more than go to sleep as well. It felt like every day you needed to apply more make up to the ever growing bags under your eyes. But you couldn't go to sleep. Not really.

Being around Elvis meant almost constant paranoia. Paranoia that his lifestyle would finally take its toll. You’d seen him almost die two times now. When he nearly overdosed the other day you realised the true extent of the damage all the pills caused.

“It's alright, sweetheart. The doctor prescribed them. He knows what he's doing, he's a doctor.” he laughed, looking at you like you had grown two heads.

“Jerry said you've been to the hospital multiple times already.” you insisted. “Don't you think-”

“He's just a nervous nelly. It was probably... dehydration or something along the lines, nothing dramatic. Don't believe everything you're told” he argued, leaving no room for disagreeing.

The only other time you witnessed him almost die was at dinner. You and the rest of the Memphis Mafia sat together enjoying a relaxed dinner after a successful show. Everyone enjoyed their food and made light conversation until Elvis started choking all of the sudden. You remember sitting in shock, dropping your plate as you watched Jerry run over to him and perform the Heimlich manoeuvre. This event had truly shocked you to the core, causing dinner to be considered a rather stressful affair now.

The truly terrifying thing about this whole nerve wrecking affair wasn’t necessarily the fact that Elvis Presley was in fact choking, it was how automatic and nonchalant everyone was about it. As if the whole process has been practised numerous times. Jerry later informed you that something like this would indeed happen on a regular basis. Almost everyone close to him had saved his life at one point. Literally. Charlie explained that the medication would alter and slow his reflexes, often causing him to choke on food. Sometimes he had trouble catching his breath, even without physical activity. That's why you always made sure to carry a second inhaler with you anywhere you went. There were many things to look out for and the responsibility sometimes made your head spin. Actually, you should start making a list, maybe it'll ease some of your anxieties.

You yawned and laid down next to him. You made sure to put a hand on his plush chest, feeling the coarse hair under your palm. The steady rise and fall of it and the strong beating of his heart calmed you a bit. Often you would just lay there and study his face, fighting the urge to close your burning eyes. The way his eyes were moving frantically under closed lids. Black eyeliner still smudged, long eyelashes fluttering over soft cheeks. His beautifully shaped nose would twitch occasionally as if you’d tickled him with a feather. His marshmallow lips would move from time to time like he was talking, or singing. You didn’t really know, but that’s when you had to pay close attention. Once he started thrashing around you scooted back a bit, not wanting to get accidentally hit by him. Eventually he'd calm down again and you breathed a sigh of relief every time. You won't ever forget the one time he actually got up and started to walk around. It had taken you a few seconds to figure out that he was sleep walking

He had to be closely watched throughout the night and in a way you of course understood why he insisted on you staying with him. You could clearly see that he was scared of himself at times, scared for himself. So you did your best to be there for him, even though it was taxing at times. Not only as an employee, but as a friend. He needed it. You turned your head to the night stand and checked the time again. 10:03 AM. Damn.

It felt like you had closed your eyes for about a second when you felt something pulling at your hair. Your eyes shot open and you saw Elvis leaning over you, a few strands of your hair between his fingers.

“Wakey, wakey, sweetheart.” He cooed at you and started to braid your locks.

“Hey E, what time is it?” you asked groggily.

“Time to wake up, sweetheart,” he hummed.

“Very funny.” You sighed and closed your eyes again. At that, he gave a light yank to the small braid he held in his hands.

“Don’t go back to sleep, Julie baby,” he insisted.

“Alright okay, I’m awake.” You turned over again. 5:26 PM. Damn, it felt like you were asleep for a minute. “Was Charlie already here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes. He must have been, otherwise Elvis wouldn’t be so active already. Just like he couldn’t go to sleep without special help, he needed a little something extra to get up and function again. It was a vicious cycle, really.

“Yeah, he was.” He waved away as you sat up.

“Oh my god, shit, why didn’t you wake me up? I really slept in!”

“I did.” He stated with an innocent smile, feigning ignorance. “Also, I had to show him what a cutie you are when you're asleep. Did ya know ya pull the funniest faces? I can always tell what you're dreaming.” You decided not to comment on this and rolled your eyes, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. He placed a hand on your shoulder, holding you back.

“Wait, sweetheart, there’s something I gotta talk to you about real quick.” You turned back to him, giving him your full attention and he smiled, pleased. “You remember those crazy guys who tried to get onstage while I was performing, made a big fuss? Lamar, uh, mentioned they saw some guys lurking around, uh, looking like they’re up to no good. Down in the casino.”

You had an idea where this was going. The paranoia that everyone felt around Elvis extended to Elvis himself. He always felt like there was someone after him. To a degree you could understand, as there were real incidents like death threats, rude letters, or fans who got a little too excited and almost attacked him.

You had experienced it yourself after seeing the mean looks on the faces of some female fans directed towards you, and waiting for something to happen, but you knew not to let it affect you too much. However, Elvis took these things to heart, and you didn’t understand why his entourage would feed into those fears and the paranoia. The guys Lamar was talking about were probably harmless, but due to Elvis’ own concern he felt the need to tell him. Elvis made them see a threat everywhere. Everyone was aware that Elvis needed to know that he was in charge, that he was in control, and that he would decide what’s best for everyone, because he just knew.

He had told you numerous times that it was best to always carry a gun. After all he carried one everywhere he went, even onstage. The shock you felt at that particular revelation is hard to describe, but, as you had learned by now, it was best not to question things. You had declined every time he suggested it, finding it unreasonable, but now you had a feeling you were about to have that discussion again.

“...Sweetheart, I want you to be safe.” He continued and squeezed your shoulder.

“You don’t gotta worry about me. I can take care of myself.” You insisted, raising your chin.

He tilted his head to the side in disbelief. “Can ya? I remember ya nearly leaping into my arms, scared to death at the sight of a little spider. When was that? Three days ago?” he mused with a shit eating grin on his face.

You lightly smacked his arm. “That’s not the same! And the spider wasn’t small. For the record.”

“It was an itty bitty spider, sweetheart. It’s not my fault that everything looks huge for poor little Julie.” He smirked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Okay, I might be scared of spiders, but I’m not intimidated by some guys Lamar and the others deem ‘up to no good’,” you countered, mimicking the quotation marks with your fingers.

“It’s not funny, ya know how people can get. Pretty thing like you can turn into a damsel in distress real quick. Trust me. I just want ya to be able to protect yourself.”

“Elvis, we’ve been through this,” you sighed.

He took a deep breath. “Sweetheart, I- I feel responsible for you... Give me some peace o-of mind,” he stammered, leaning closer towards you with a pleading look on his face.

“I’m an adult, you know.”

He pouted. “Then start a-acting like one. Julie, you a-are so damn stubborn, why can’t you just d-do what I tell you,” he argued, throwing his arms up in frustration.

You took a deep breath and placed your hands on his shoulders. “Elvis, I know that you mean well and I appreciate your concern-“

“Don’t brush me off, sweetheart. Will ya do as you’re told?”

You sighed. It’s true you were stubborn, but he was stubborn as well, and persuading him didn’t work this time. The discussion was pointless and you knew that in order to save you some trouble the best thing you could do was just agree. He wasn’t gonna give up, you could feel it. There was a determination and finality in his eyes that left no room for arguing. On the one hand it could be considered flattering that he was so concerned with your well-being, but on the other it was scary to think about what was going on in his head, pushing him to such decisions.

“I guess I could give it a try. Just for tonight, alright?” His hand moved from your shoulder and brushed against your chin in a feather light touch. It sent a warm tingle down your spine.

“Anyone ever tell you that you can be real difficult, sweetheart?” he stated with a tender smile.

“Actually, you’re the first. Everyone I interact with always makes sure to tell me that I’m an absolute delight. Highlight of their day.”

“Hush now,” he chuckled as he got up from the bed with a grunt. He rotated his shoulder multiple times and put a hand on his back with a sigh. You knew that today wasn’t a particularly good day for him.

“...How is your eye?” you inquired with a more serious tone, getting up as well to fetch his sunglasses.

He squinted his eyes and shook his head with a small frown. “I’m good,” was the short answer you received. You carefully placed the glasses on his nose and wiped away some sweat that had gathered on his forehead. It always seemed to be there.

“Are you sure?”

“Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head about that,” he replied, tugging at your hair again. You smiled at him and gently ran your hand through his soft hair. He leaned into it.

“...I don’t-“

“I know my body, woman. I’m grown, let me handle it,” he cut you off, raising an eyebrow.

The irony of this exchange wasn’t lost on you. You had the feeling it wasn’t lost on him either as he cleared his throat and walked away from you and your touch. At times it could happen that he was self aware. Fleeting moments really.

He always claimed to know what everyone was supposed to do. If it were only suggestions he offered, but no, he had to make sure they were carried out. Preferably he carried them out himself, at least then he knew it was properly taken care of. He even felt responsible for things that weren’t his business in the slightest, but the moment someone else merely suggested that he should take care of something concerning himself, he’d shut them down in a second. Didn’t even want to hear it.

You followed him and he cast a warning look over his shoulder, as if he saw you opening your mouth through the back if his head. He opened a closet and pulled out a leather case, putting it on the glass table in front of him and swiftly opening it. At the sight of what was inside, a gasp escaped you: various firearms, badges and bullets, shining and reflecting the sun light, almost blinding you. His obsession with law enforcement was nothing new to you, he had proudly showed you his Reserve Captain of the City of Memphis Badge and his police flashlight the first time you met him, but seeing all these guns in front of you was something else.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” he smirked.

“Uhm, they’re certainly uh... This one’s pretty.” You pointed at a small gun decorated with golden leaves and different animals, which were carefully engraved into the steel.

“I had a feeling you’d like this one.” He responded proudly and picked it up with trained expertise.

“I like the animal,” you remarked, mentally slapping yourself for not coming up with something more clever.

He chuckled. “It’s a Smith & Wesson 19, I had it custom made in Germany. You wanna hold it?”

“Uh..”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’s not loaded. See?” He opened the cylinder and showed you the empty chambers, then shut it again and pressed the gun into your hands.

“A pretty lil’ gun for a pretty lil’ girl.” He smirked as he assessed you carefully, licking his lips. You felt heat rising up your chest and neck and cleared your throat.

“...I don’t even know how to..” you trailed off, the gun still laying in your open palms, looking a bit lost.

“Here, let me,” he mumbled as he stepped behind you.

Suddenly his strong arms were around you, surrounding you, trapping you. For a moment you forgot how to breathe, your body betraying you and your muscles not moving the way you wanted them to. You were still able to move your eyes though and saw his big hands engulfing your smaller ones. He gently guided your trembling hands, showing you how to properly hold the gun. You weren’t sure if the trembling was caused by the highly dangerous firearm in your grasp or the equally dangerous Rock ‘n’ Roll star behind you. You took a shuddering breath after what felt like hours and promptly realised it was a grave mistake. His smell now surrounded you as well, an intoxicating mix of sweat, cologne and cigars. If you leaned back just a little you could feel the swell of his stomach, you already felt the heat of his body radiating off him. Oh, how you wanted to let go and just-

“Are ya still with me, sweetheart?” he chuckled behind you, his lip curling. Shoot.

“...Uh sorry, what did you say? I was... concentrating,” you stammered, relieved that at least he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks.

He stepped forward with a small laugh, finally closing the gap between your bodies, trapping you completely to him. You were only wearing a tank top and the v neck of his shirt was so deep that you could feel his coarse chest hair against your shoulder. Sweet Jesus, this man was driving you insane! His warm hands started to work yours again, correcting angles and adjusting your hold. The coolness of his rings and the sight of the veins on the back of his hand caused your heartbeat to pick up once more.

“Yeah, like this... Wait, your finger has to go there... Relax your lil’ fingers, sweetheart... I said relax... That’s it,” he murmured, his rough fingertips now slowly gliding over your wrist, steadying your hand. He played you like an instrument, one of his guitars maybe, waiting to be tuned. You swallowed hard and prayed that he couldn’t see the goosebumps forming on your arms, or feel your pulse racing under his nimble fingers.

“Good. Now we gotta work on your stance.”

Without warning, you felt his strong thigh pressing itself between your legs, nudging your feet apart. You let out a surprised yelp and nearly lost your balance, but he hastily wrapped an arm around your middle, fingers digging into your stomach.

“Woah, careful there, little lady... Am I making you nervous?” he asked with a smirk. He knew damn well, he just enjoyed watching you squirm. His warm breath tickled your ear and for a second you thought you felt his soft lips gently brushing against your cheek. It was only for a millisecond, but it sent a shock through your core. Did he really just…?

“...You w-wish, huh? I -I just want to be careful with this... weapon of mass destruction,” you gasped and tried to conceal it with a laugh, feeling a bit breathless. He slowly ran his hands over your waist, down to your hips.

“Sweetheart, quit being so jittery. You gotta stop being so damn careful with this ‘weapon of mass destruction’,” he chuckled. “It can handle ya having a bit of fun with it.” He spoke in a low voice and pressed himself even closer to you, the double meaning of his words not lost on you. You wanted to deny it for your own sanity, but you were sure that it was the outline of his dick you felt against your backside. Was he wearing no underwear under these silk pyjamas? You felt a lump in your throat and your mouth turned dry. Like a desert. Oh god.

“What is it, Julie darlin’? Cat got your tongue?” he whispered, his chin resting on your shoulder. You stared straight ahead, because if you turned your head just a little bit, your lips would certainly brush against his. Then it would be game over. You had to focus, which was a difficult task with him continuing to knead the flesh of your hips without a care in the world.

You were used to his flirting and touching and, of course, you were both aware for your mutual feelings for each other, but you had made an agreement not to act on it, protecting both of you. Spending every night with him, though platonic, already meant treading on thin ice, and feeling him like this, so close, made your resistance grow weaker by the minute. He apparently had an equally hard time holding back and you knew it was up to you to stop right now. No matter how much didn’t want this moment to end.

You freed yourself from his grasp and let out a barely audible sigh at the loss of contact. Without his comforting warmth surrounding you, you couldn’t suppress a little shiver. You turned around and saw him drop his arms that still hovered in front of him as if you were still there. He adjusted his glasses and ran a hand over his mouth.

You got into position to hold the gun like he just showed you. “Like this?” you questioned. You knew it probably wasn’t perfect, you were hardly able to pay attention to what he had just explained to you. Maybe you hoped he would get close to you again, help you and correct you, so you could feel his wide frame against your smaller one. Just maybe. He cleared his throat and looked down.

“Yeah, it’s good,” he murmured and went over to the glass table again, the moment you two just shared now over. With a frown, you followed him and peered over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He opened a small box, revealing various bullets.

“...Now, for the Smith & Wesson you’re gonna need this .357 Magnum cartridge...” He continued listing facts about the ammunition with you listening dutifully, as if nothing happened between you mere seconds ago. Every now and then, he’d look at you to check if you were still paying attention to him and, though you didn’t really understand what he was talking about, you nodded your head every now and then. He showed you how to open and close the cylinder and placed a bullet in each of the six chambers. Alright, now it was loaded. Great.

“Here, watch this,” he said and got into position to shoot. You thought he wanted to show you the hold and stance again, but you were wrong. You saw his finger coming dangerously close to the trigger and, without warning, he pulled it. You shrieked as he actually shot at the sofa at the other end of the room. Was he completely losing his mind now, just shooting inside a building? You wanted to remind yourself not to question things, but this was too much. You could not leave it like this. Couldn’t pretend it was normal.

“Elvis! What are you doing?” you screamed, covering your ears with your hands.

“I’m demonstrating,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

“...You... You shot a pillow!”

“It’s ugly anyways.”

“Ugh... I don’t believe you sometimes,” you said, shaking your head. He actually had the audacity to laugh.

“Come on Julie, it’s funny.”

“...You’re a... a man child!” you said with a small nervous chuckle, your ears still ringing.

“And you’re a killjoy!”

“Oh my god, I’ll better go downstairs now, before you start shooting the windows. And you should start getting ready, you have a performance later, remember?”

“What was I just saying about a killjoy?”

“And put the gun away!”

“Lord, woman, you’re horrible.”

“It’s called common sense, E.”

“Boring,” he said, although he couldn’t hide how the corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile.

“Common sense!” you laughed and gathered your stuff as well as the keys for your apartment. The apartment you barely used now, spending most of your time and nearly every night with him, but you insisted on keeping it. You still wanted to keep that last boundary, the illusion that you weren’t as deeply involved as you were. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself.

On your way out you turned to him and waved.

“See you in an hour or so. If you need something just give me a call.”

“You forgot something,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

You halted in your tracks. Man, you just couldn’t get away with anything today. You sighed and he walked towards you with a serious expression on his face once more. He handed you the gun he had used to shoot the poor pillow.

“Take it, Julie.” Maybe it was better if you just took it. Even if you wouldn’t necessarily use it, it would be a precaution.

“...Alright, boss.” You mock saluted and grinned up to him. He smiled fondly, his eyes twinkling, as he brushed some of your hair behind your ear and his thumb briefly traced along your jawline towards your chin, lingering there for a moment.

“I knew you could be a good girl.”

“You like it?”

He hummed and leaned against the door frame, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction.

“...Then I’ll have to rethink it.”

His face dropped and you let out a small giggle at his expression. You enjoyed it when you got to tease him and sometimes it was just too easy with him. He needed some light-hearted fun like anyone else, but it rarely happened; the possibility of him not appreciating the joke and the consequences of that always lingering in the back of everybody’s mind.

“You little minx,” he muttered with a grin and reached out for your waist. You backed away.

“Ah! No time to be silly! I told you we have to start getting ready,” you laughed and turned around. “See you later!” He leaned against the door frame and gently smiled at you until you were out of sight.

After arriving at your apartment, you opted for a quick shower and carefully reapplied your makeup the way Elvis wanted you to. He showed you exactly how to do it, claiming that everyone in the inner circle represented him and there was a certain image to uphold. You figured this made sense and complied with his rules. He was very particular about these things, always concerned with what others thought of him. Whether it was the fans not showing enough enthusiasm at his shows, or the tabloids printing horrible stories about him, it was enough to turn him sour and moody for a couple of hours.

After wiping off some excess lip gloss, you carefully eyed the gun and picked it up. Sighing, you chewed on your bottom lip. Were you really gonna go out there with a gun, even for effect?

It felt like just another one of Elvis’ silly little ideas, thinking he could  show you how it worked in a 10-minute crash course and then off you would go. He never thought these things through and his irresponsibility annoyed you.

“Nah, this is stupid,” you muttered to yourself, hiding the gun in your closet. Elvis wouldn’t know. You needed to be the sensible one.

You grabbed your bag and walked towards the door. As you turned the handle, you casted one last look over your shoulder, facing the closet. You shook your head and closed the door behind you.

On your way down you briefly passed the Colonel, but refused to spare him a glance. He showed up less and less, preferring to work everything out from a safe distance. Probably too much of a coward to face Elvis and the rest of the entourage.

After Elvis had tried to fire him a few weeks ago, there was a noticeable discomfort with the situation on all sides involved. Vernon had advised Elvis that it would be better to keep the Colonel around. Finances and debts played a major role, Vernon explained to you after you asked him about it. There was no way out of this horrid situation.

It made you mad and your frustrations were only made worse by your employer’s reaction, or his lack of reaction. Elvis’ resignation regarding the whole topic, his acceptance that there was nothing he could do, made you incredibly sad. Here was this man they called King, adored by millions of people and surrounded by luxury, and he was utterly powerless. He knew that he didn’t have the willpower, nor the energy to fight anymore, and just passively let these things happen to him.

When you arrived in the backstage area you quickly spotted Charlie and walked up to him, making small talk while you were waiting for Elvis. He showed up a few minutes later, looking as nervous as he did almost every time. You saw that he was sweating again already, his face shining and some of his black hair sticking to his face. You walked up to him and gently dabbed his face with a towel before placing it around his shoulders. He let out a shaky exhale and searched your eyes.

“Ready?” you asked with smile. He huffed a laugh and looked down, shaking his head the tiniest bit. You almost didn’t see it.

“Hold my hand for a bit, will ya, sweetheart?” he whispered and the vulnerability in his eyes was almost too much. One would think after 20 years in the spotlight he would have overcome his stage fright, but every new crowd was another challenge for him. ‘Every audience is different and they never saw me live before. So it’s like performing for the first time every time,’ he always said. You stepped closer to him and reached out for his hand, squeezing it and soothingly rubbing your thumb over the back of it.

“You’re gonna be great, I know it. I see you performing on that stage every evening and I never get tired of watching you. These fans, they’re here for you and you won’t disappoint them.”

“You really think so?” he inquired, his voice more similar like a little boy’s rather than a grown, experienced rock star.

“Yes, E, I do. You’ll blow them away.”

“If you say so, Julie baby.”

“Don’t you think I’m qualified enough to judge?” you asked with a teasing tone.

“Oh sweetheart, I think you’re highly competent,” he quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“I like to remind you of that every now and then.”

“I couldn’t possibly forget,” he smirked, though the tremor in his hand still gave him away.

“Good answer E. See? You know how to charm people. Now you just gotta go out there and do the same.” You squeezed his hand one more time and looked up to him with an encouraging smile.

He took a deep breath when Also Sprach Zarathustra started playing and looked up to the ceiling as if sending up a quick prayer.

“Okay E, let me have a look at you,” you said and reached for his towel, wiping away some of the sweat that had gathered on his face again, as well as some eyeliner that was already smudged. “...Yep, you can go on stage like this.” He gently cupped your chin, making you shiver slightly.

“I’ll be looking for you in the audience. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” you whispered and fixed some of his hair that had fallen out of place. “Now you’re perfect.” His eyes briefly flashed with what you thought was insecurity, but it was quickly replaced with a smirk.

“You can be quite charming if you want to as well, Julie baby. You sure it’s not you who’s supposed to be on that stage?” he winked.

“When I start singing, they’ll just flee for their lives,” you joked and he flashed you another smile before turning around, making his way towards the stage.

You gave him a thumbs up and watched him until he was out of sight. That’s when you noticed Jerry standing rather close, looking at you with an unnervingly neutral expression. You had a creeping feeling he’s silently watched the entire exchange between you and Elvis and, though nothing happened, you couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward and exposed under his assertive gaze. You cleared your throat and made your way towards the auditorium.

When you watched Elvis on stage there was no indication of his earlier nervousness. As always, he seemed at home in the bright spotlight, truly in his element. You cheered him on and just ignored the times he stumbled over the lyrics or couldn’t fully hit a note because he was out of breath. In fact, these were the little things that made the performance feel real, evoking genuine emotions within you.

After two hours of Elvis working his magic, you made you way back towards entrance to the backstage area to accompany him back to his suite. You stood in the corridor, mentally going through everything he needed for the night when you heard someone walking behind you.

“Hey, you.” You turned around to see a man around your age approaching, slurring his words. “Uh, do you happen to know where the restrooms are?”

You blinked. “Oh, uh you’re really in the wrong place. This is the way backstage.”

It took some time for him to register what you just said and you could see the gears turning in his head.

“...Oh... huh, you really seem to know your way around here. You come here often?” he asked with a smile that you think was meant to be charming.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his clumsy attempt of flirting. He was obviously drunk, but he was just trying to make conversation. Emphasis on trying.

“Believe it or not, for the last few weeks I’ve been here every night.”

“That’s crazy.” He said with big eyes, but then he nearly gagged.

“Oh my god, okay, come on, I’ll show you the restroom. Don’t want you to throw up all over the corridor.” You said, pulling him along.

“You’re really kind. I’m sorry, I’m not usually this drunk.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. First time in Las Vegas?”

“How do you know?”

“Uh, just a feeling. Happens to the best of us.”

He smiled down at you and promptly lost his footing. You stumbled until both of you fell to the ground with him on top of you. You groaned at the impact and looked around. Trying to get up wasn’t possible with his dead weight on you, so you pushed against his chest. His reaction was slow to non existent. You were sure he was almost passing out.

“Get off me!” you said a bit louder, trying to get his attention.

It seemed like a cruel joke that it was in that particular moment that Elvis, Charlie, Jerry and Lamar turned around the corner, witnessing the scene before them. And boy, it looked bad. You pushed against the stranger’s chest one more time, urging him to get up. He didn’t even have time to react, as he was yanked off by strong hands.

You looked up, relieved to be able to breathe freely again. Elvis had him by the collar of his shirt, pressing him against the wall, with Lamar and Charlie exchanging concerned looks. Jerry walked towards you with a frown and reached out his hand to help you up.

“Were you having fun?” Elvis hissed, his voice dangerously low. His blue eyes were burning beneath his shades, their expression almost scaring you.

“Elvis, he didn’t do anything!” you interjected. Jerry gently grasped your arm, holding you back.

“I asked you a question, you son of a bitch,” Elvis spat angrily.

From the way he stood you could tell that his back was giving him even more trouble than when he got up today, probably from a daring move he had just attempted during his performance, but he still managed to put on a brave face that would convince anyone that he’d still be up for a fight. Not that it mattered much to the drunk stranger, you weren’t sure that he even registered that it was Elvis Presley talking to him.

You ignored Jerry’s hand on your elbow and stepped towards Elvis.

“He’s drunk, I wanted to help him. He fell on me Elvis, nothing happened.”

It was as if he didn’t even hear you. You put a hand on his back, feeling him tremble beneath you, a combination of the post show adrenaline and pure rage. His silence was really starting to scare you. That’s how you knew it was serious. Really serious.

“Please, let go of him.” you begged when he didn’t answer you. You glanced over to the other guys, feeling helpless. All you got were neutral expressions, no one daring to move a finger. Elvis took a deep breath and pointed a ring clad finger at the stranger’s face.

“If you ever come near her again... if I ever see you again.. you’re gonna regret it. Now get outta my sight,” He warned. With a nod towards Lamar and the other two he let go of him and they escorted him away.

You looked at Elvis, who was still breathing heavily. He flexed his hands multiple times and eyed you carefully.

“Julie, where’s your gun?”

Shit.

Your silence answered his question.

“...I don’t believe this,” he mumbled, roughly grabbing your wrist and pulling you along with him, not saying another word to you. Once you were up in his suite again, he slammed the door and looked down on you with a frown.

“Answer me this: What would you have done if I hadn’t been there in time?” he asked, starting to pace around.

“I wasn’t in danger,” you answered, not moving from your spot.

“Damnit, I warned you about guys like him. I knew something like this would happen!” He pulled out the Colt 45 he hid under his pants leg and strode towards you. “I gave you one of these for a reason.” He continued, waving it in front of your face.

“Elvis, please put the gun away,” you said calmly, remembering the stunt he pulled a few hours ago with the pillow.

“I do what I damn well p-please,” he scoffed and turned away from you. You took a step towards him.

“Please, stop acting like this.”

“You don’t get to t-tell me what to do,” he said, pointing his finger at you.

“Goddamnit Elvis! What is going on?!” You cried, fed up with his antics.

“Why don’t you just do what I-I tell you?”

“Because I wanted to decide what I’m going to do,” you explained, lowering your voice a little to appease him.

“Great h-how that worked out f-for ya!” he spat. You scoffed, at a loss for words, and slammed a hand against your forehead.

“Julie, don’t fucking act like I’m the one who’s in the wrong now! I won’t have you disrespecting me like this,” he warned, his eyes burning into yours with a fury that almost made you back up a little.

“It’s not that! I’m trying to tell you that nothing happened! Look at me, I’m alright!” you argued with desperation in your voice as you gestured at yourself. Did he even listen to you?

“But what if something happened? Julie, I swear to god!” He was seething, his face red with exertion.

“What, Elvis?” you snapped. He just glared at you, his chest heaving.

“You know what? I’m not gonna discuss this right now. I’ll come back later,” you shouted and left the apartment without waiting for his reaction.

Just before you shut the door behind you, you heard him yelling at you, “Julie, if you leave now-“

That’s when you closed the door. And for a moment you were scared; scared because his anger was probably directed towards you now. You didn’t mean to upset him, he was going through so much already, but you also knew that it wouldn’t make any sense to try and talk to him right now. His temper was infamous among those in the inner circle, it was one of the first things you were warned about.

In order to have a normal conversation again he would have to calm down first. You had to calm down as well, knowing that you’d probably say something stupid if he continued to act this way. You felt tears of frustration and anger pricking at your eyes and almost ran down the corridor towards the elevator.

You found yourself wandering through the foyer and saw Jerry sitting on a sofa, apparently deep in thought. You let out a sigh of relief as, within the Memphis Mafia, he was the one that you trusted the most. Not only was he the only one who dared to challenge Elvis at times, but he also had known Elvis for a long time and was a great listener, which is why you’d occasionally come to him for advice.

“Hey, Jerry,” you greeted as you approached him tentatively. He looked up to you and blinked.

“Oh.. hey Julie. Are you okay? You still look a bit shaken... Um, don’t worry, we took care of that guy and escorted him back to his friends. We suggested that it would be better for them to leave. No one’s gonna bother you again.” You sat down next to him.

“He was harmless, Jerry, just drunk. I’m more worried about Elvis... He... um just threw another hissy fit and I’m afraid I made it worse.” With another sigh you sank into the soft pillows behind you, though relaxing wasn’t really an option right now.

“Yeah... he was really pissed about this guy. It doesn’t help that he already felt agitated the whole day. I think something just snapped in him... How did you make it worse though?”

“I walked out on him, mid argument.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. You know, he wanted me to carry a gun, because Lamar thought he saw some gangsters running around the casino... making him go crazy. He wanted me to carry a gun, knowing I have no experience with it, nor the ambition to be honest. I didn’t have it with me and he just... lost his damn mind.”

“I see.” You looked at him expectantly, but he sighed and shrugged.

“Julie... He wants to look out for you. I know he only means well,” he chuckled. “He means well most of the time, it’s just the execution that goes horribly wrong.” You felt a gentle smile tugging at the corners if your lips.

“Yeah, I know that, and I really appreciate his concern, but he needs to know that there are other perspectives as well. People might think differently than him,” you replied while absentmindedly playing with a loose thread on the cushion next to you. He nodded in understanding and turned to you.

“But that’s the thing, he thinks he knows best. And, as I said, he wants the best for everyone. He’s always worried and... concerned about everyone’s well being, wanting to keep everyone around him happy. Sometimes he even tries to fix things that aren’t even his business... It causes him sleepless nights, really.” He shook his head with a frown.

“God, I feel so bad, but he really got on my last nerve today. He shot a damn pillow and thought it was the funniest thing in the world.”

“That’s nothing. He... uh regularly shoots his television sets when there’s something on that he doesn’t like.”

“He does what now?” you asked, your eyebrows raised.

“It’s true. He really does things... his own way. That’s how I’d put it.”

“He’s nuts sometimes. Gosh, I just hope I didn’t mess up too bad this time. I know it’s right for me to stand up to my beliefs, but still.”

“I think he’d forgive you almost everything.” Your gaze drifted towards him, your lips pursed.

“I hope so... Do I have to apologise?” you asked, beginning to genuinely think you did something wrong now. He sighed.

“Julie, I know Elvis. Let me just say it would probably be better that way.”

“But do you think I should?”

“He wants to be right, discussing something like this with him won’t get you far.”

You hummed, this wasn’t really the answer you were looking for, but you knew it was all you’d get from him.

“And... uh there were no other incidents today? I didn’t hear anything. You know, about the weird guys Lamar thought he saw earlier today.”

“No, nothing. I guess it was a false alarm.” He shrugged. You couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped your mouth. This was what started this entire debacle.

“Julie I know what you think, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” he tried to explain. You hummed again and decidedly pulled off the string you’d been twirling the entire time.

“You’re probably right. I think I’ll go upstairs again and see if he’s calmed down a little. Hopefully he hasn't trashed the damn place. Because who's gonna clean it up?” she asked and pointed both thumbs towards herself.

He let out a little snort. “Alright, take care, Julie,” he said as he watched you get up.

“I will, thanks Jerry.”

With that you turned and made your way back through the foyer, thinking about the upcoming conversation with your boss. It was weird to think about him like that, and you had to remind yourself of that particular fact every now and then. You wandered around the hotel for almost half an hour before building up enough nerve to face him again.

When you finally opened the door to his suite with the key he’d given you, you spotted him sitting on his bed dressed in his silk pyjamas again and fumbling around with his jewellery.

“You’ve calmed down again, sweetheart?” He slowly got up, a rather goofy smile on his face.

“Me?” you asked, pointing to yourself.

“Got quite hysterical when ya left,” he said, approaching you with a grin. You raised your eyebrows, your mouth hanging open for a few seconds.

“I got hysterical?” Was he serious right now? You turned on your heel, your hand on your forehead, the whole apology you had prepared on your way up here now thrown out of the window. He couldn’t mean that now, could he? He followed you and placed his hands on your arms, turning you around, towards him.

“Wait sweetheart, don’t be like that. Come on, it’s okay, Julie baby, I know how women can get. Y’all are more tender hearted,” he said, putting his arms around you and stroking your hair.

You frowned and tried to take a step back, wanting to look at him, but he tightened his grip on you, keeping you in place. You’ve never seen someone with mood swings like him. It was extreme to the point where he could be irrational, one could never know what to expect from him. But don’t question things! You leaned into him, not really knowing if this was meant to comfort you or him.

The way he held himself and the slightly dazed expression in his blue eyes explained how he was so calm. He must have taken his damn pills already, otherwise he wouldn’t be this relaxed after the argument the two of you had. Especially after you stormed off, which must have made him even angrier. Now it seemed almost forgotten as he more and more leaned against you for support.

You desperately wanted to throw away all his medication, the fact that he never really dealt with his emotions and just numbed them was driving you mad, though you weren’t convinced that this alone was responsible for his reactions. His extraordinary talent to twist situations and circumstances so that they’d work in his favour could be a gift for him, but a curse for everyone else. You almost never got to discuss situations like this with him, properly working things out.

“Come on, sit down with me, sweetheart,” he pleaded, holding out his hands.

“Alright,” you replied with a neutral expression, despite still clearly seeing the image of him with that damn gun in front of you.

He led you over to his bed and sat down across from you, engulfing your hands with his bigger ones and hold them tight, taking a deep breath. His mouth opened and closed multiple times before speaking.

“Listen... I’m sorry for getting so angry at you earlier. I-I didn’t want to scare ya. I was just worried. Ya gotta believe me.”

The genuinely remorseful look on his face made your irritation dissipate slightly. You sighed. Communication is key.

“...And I’m sorry for yelling at you, I shouldn’t have done it. I know you mean well, but I was angry as well. Well, frustrated...you know what I think about guns,” you almost whispered, searching his eyes, hoping and praying he’d understand. He looked down and bit his lip, looking a bit bashful.

“...Yeah, I-I know sweetheart. I just can’t bear the thought of something happening to you. When I saw that fucker on top of you, I-I could have killed him.” His face became flushed again at the mere memory. You nodded and just squeezed his hands, knowing that explaining the situation again wouldn’t help. He dropped his head.

“Don’t you understand, Julie? W-What if I lose you?...Who would annoy me all day?” he added, after looking up again with a small smile. You forced a smile to match his while trying to ignore his vulnerability in the former half of the statement.

“Oh, I’m sure you would find someone in a heartbeat. You’re Elvis Presley.” His face grew serious again.

“No. Not someone like you.”

“Elvis..” you whispered, pressing your lips together as you felt your face begin to crumple, the emotions of the whole day finally catching up to you. Did he really mean it or did he want to distract from the actual conversation you were having? You hated how your voice trembled when you spoke up again. “We should really talk about-“ He put his hand on your cheek and watched you with a tender look in his eyes.

“No, you don’t have to say anything. I don’t wanna hear any more of it. I’m just glad we’re getting along again. I don’t like arguing with you.” Well, so much for that.

“Me neither,” you eventually uttered with a small sniffle,  your eyes burning. You didn’t know if it felt more like giving in or giving up.

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s all good again. Don’t worry. I-I won’t bother you with this again, okay? It’s all good again. All good.” He mumbled almost meditatively and guided your head to lay against his shoulder, your cheek brushing against his coarse chest hair.

You weren’t convinced of how serious he was about not bringing up the topic again, but for now you’d take it, since he left you no other choice. You knew it must be horrible inside his head and he really couldn’t help the way he was sometimes. He just wanted the best for you. It showed in the way he gently stroked your hair and shushed you, as if soothing a frightened child. And, for the second time that day, you thought you felt the feather light brush of his lips, this time against your temple, as if assuring you that everything was okay. As if he’d read your mind. It made you feel hot and cold at the same time.

Right now you didn’t have the energy to fight against the comforting feeling of his embrace and his affection and just let yourself sink into it. His ability to make you feel completely at ease, his softness, warmth and smell, combined with the rhythmic stroking of his strong hands almost lulled you to sleep.

You felt a sudden calm wash over you, the weird buzzing in your head and the tingling feeling of anxiety on your skin slowly disappearing. The silent promise that everything was going to be alright and that he would take care of everything for you felt like a safety blanket.

“Hey, E?”

He answered with a ‘Hmm?’ and you felt the vibrations of his chest against your cheek.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know... for being there. The whole thing really stressed me out.”

“Well, you know, Julie baby, I have healing hands,” he said, shrugging as if it was the most normal thing.

“I think so too,” you chuckled. Not ironically, like you did so often. It was genuine this time, The more time you spend with him the more you thought he actually possessed some kind of magic, influencing everyone around him. Sometimes that was really no other explanation. He grinned at you, his eyes twinkling.

“So... what now, magic man?” you asked.

“...We could watch The Godfather again, so you can fawn over Marlon Brando?” He proposed. You laughed.

“You know, every day I regret it a little bit more that I told you about this silly childhood crush.”

“When I asked you, you said he was your favourite actor,” he retorted a tad accusingly, a little pout on his face to emphasize his point.

“Yes, I realise my mistake now,” you said with a hand over your heart, feigning shock.

After a few seconds though you weren’t able to hold your back your laughter and an involuntary giggle escaped you. He started smiling as well, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You now knew you had actually bruised his ego with that statement back then. He asked you this particular question only a few days after you met him and you naively answered with the first thing that came to mind, not really knowing the gravity of it. Not really knowing... him. How important these things were for him. Looking back, it was definitely some kind of test that you failed miserably, and he made sure to remind you of that faux pas every now and then, probably still a bit offended and wounded.

“... Do you want me to read to you again? Maybe... um you can try to go to sleep a little earlier tonight, what do you think?” you offered, trying to change the subject. Thankfully he bought into it.

“Mhm.. you always take such good care of me. Like a mama.”

“Well, thanks for that,” you answered, a bit unsure if the second part was really a compliment or not. He scooted closer, laying his head on your shoulder and throwing an arm around your middle, his hand finding its place at your waist.

“...No, I mean it, Julie. I-I really admire that about ya.” He raised his head again, looking deeply into your eyes. “A-And I don’t think I tell ya enough,” he whispered and squeezed your sides.

You felt your pulse quicken and let out a shuddering breath. Was it nervousness? Was it the stress? Was it anticipation? Excitement? There was certainly no denying that you liked the way his hands felt on your body.

“I’m sorry if I’m like this to you sometimes. I-I can’t always help it... My head is just so fucked up sometimes I know I can be a nasty asshole... I just w-want you to know what you mean to me,” he stammered with a frown. You knew it was hard for him to get these words out and you adored and hated him for saying them out loud.

“Elvis, you aren’t any of those things. And-“

He closed his eyes and gently nuzzled his nose against yours, making you stop mid sentence. He was so incredibly tender with you, even the fact that the tip of his nose was nearly freezing due to the cool room temperature didn’t deter you from leaning into his touch.

“...Yes, I am. I’m a selfish bastard who can’t even keep an agreement he made. A promise to the woman he adores.”

Every rational thought you had was thrown out of the window at this. The only thing you knew, felt, was him. This pull between you two had been there from the beginning and you so desperately fought against it. There had been many instances, many battles where you almost surrendered yourself to him, but you always managed to put your rational thoughts first.

Now, with his strong hands on your body, his beautiful face so close that you could feel his hot breath over your lips and the words that just slipped past his marshmallow ones, you felt something snap within you.

You leaned forward and eagerly pressed your lips against his, a surprised squeal escaping you at the same time. You were about to pull back and apologise, but that thought was quickly thrown out the window when you felt him kissing you back fiercely.

The bed under you creaked when he shifted his weight, moving to lay almost on top of you. His chains dangled from his wide chest and you reached around to pull him even closer to you. He complied and leaned down even further, his rounded belly now pressing up against you. A gasp escaped you at the feeling of his weight pushing you down into the mattress, utterly trapped and at his mercy.

One of his ring clad hands moved up from your hip to gently cup your cheek. The cool metal felt good on your burning skin and you felt Elvis smiling into the kiss. His lips were so incredibly soft and hot as they sloppily worked against yours and you weren’t able to form one coherent thought. When his hot, wet tongue slipped out to trace over your bottom lip you couldn’t contain a little groan.

You reached up to tread your fingers through the coarse hair on his chest, stroking up and down, while he tightened his grip on your waist. The contradicting roughness you felt against your hands versus the wonderful softness against your lips was an intoxicating combination. It was just so very him. He pulled away from you, allowing you to catch your breath and you looked at each other, breathing heavily.

“...Elvis, this isn’t good,” you whispered, a half-hearted attempt to stop him. To stop yourself. Both.

He licked his lips and trailed a lazy finger over your hip.

“Ya don’t like this?” he asked, looking at you from beneath his shades incredulously.

“Oh god...I- I do,” you stammered helplessly after he had rubbed soothing circles over your hip for almost a minute.

He smiled and leaned down to bury his face against your neck, peppering soft, sweet kisses along your pulse point, making you giggle. Then you felt his warm hand gliding under your shirt, pushing the fabric upwards until your bra was exposed. His attack on your neck stopped and he leaned back to watch you, biting his lip. What a pretty picture you were for him, with your face wonderfully flushed, biting your lip and breathing heavily. Your face grew even more hot under his intense gaze and the way he licked his lips and smirked down at you sent shock waves to your core. You quickly pulled the shirt over your head and dropped it onto the floor next to the bed. Ugh, still too hot.

“Lord have mercy,” he breathed, as he watched your chest rise and fall quickly with every laboured breath you took. He cupped one breast in each hand and his lip curled, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Ladies, you two look real fun. You can be my new best friends,” he cooed as he squeezed them together and leaned down to nuzzle into them with a playful growl. You laughed and the motion made them jiggle, much to his delight.

“E, you’re being silly,” you giggled.

“No, I’m being serious. I need to play with these before every show now. Will ya let me? Best stress balls ever, I’ll tell ya.”

“You are impossible. Can’t take you nowhere,” you replied with a grin and gently stroked his cheek.

“Let an old man have some fun, Julie baby,” he mumbled with a smile. He softly kissed your collarbone before carefully hoisting you up, his hands on your back, to unclasp your bra with his nimble fingers.

You let out a surprised ‘Oh!’ when he hastily pulled the undergarment off you and tossed it onto the floor. His eyes roamed over your form for what felt like hours, a mix of appreciation and concentration in his gaze, as if trying to memorize every little detail. It made you throw your arms over your face, a weak attempt to hide the fact that you were as red as a tomato. He clicked his tongue and reached up, wanting to move your arms away, finding it incredibly cute how flustered you were. He gently ran his fingers over your skin.

“Sweetheart, let me look at you,” he sang.

You stubbornly refused to let him see you and possibly laugh at you, and he quickly realised you wouldn’t budge. He smirked as he decided to alter his tactic. You felt his hands wandering downwards along you neck, over your chest and onto your stomach. He briefly paused there, his fingers drumming against your skin, before beginning to tickle your sides which caused you to squeal and laugh so hard that your stomach started to ache.

“E, stop!” you finally gasped, trying to catch your breath.

Eventually you moved your arms and swatted away his bold, exploring hands, making him grin triumphantly.

“You’re not playing fair!” you laughed.

“All is fair in love and war. Never heard of that?”

You wanted nothing more than to wipe that goofy, smug grin off his face when he leaned down to kiss the tip of your nose.

“...You’re such a pretty baby.” He whispered and rubbed his cheek against yours, reminding you of a cat, his sideburns tickling you. “Pretty, pretty, pretty.”

He mumbled into your cheek over and over again and you wrapped your arms around his wide frame. His hips started to move, slowly thrusting up against you in a steady pace and wetness pooled between your legs when you felt him growing against your clothed cunt. You let out a high pitched moan and his soft tongue licked a long stripe across your cheek in response. He felt your nails digging into his back, your fingers cramping and he softly whined against your ear, making you throb even more. God, it had to be a criminal offence to make such sounds.

You eagerly moved your hands to open the buttons of his deep v neck shirt, needing to see, feel his chest and stomach in their entire glory. It also felt unfair that you were almost naked and he was still fully clothed. After the first two buttons were open, you slipped your hand inside and stroked his soft belly. Suddenly he jolted away as if he’d burned himself. You drew back your hand and saw some of the insecurity you’d seen earlier this day flash in his eyes. But then it was gone again as quickly as it came and instead a stern look took over his beautiful features.

“Sweetheart, no,” he said determinedly.

“Why not?” you whined and reached out to fumble with the remaining buttons. He grasped your hands in his and lifted them to his mouth, kissing the back of them two, three, four times.

“...This is about you,” he muttered as he released your hands and moved to caress your bare stomach. You got the impression this statement wasn’t entirely true.

“But-“

“No buts, stubborn little lady.” He shook his head, his eyes trained on his fingers as they traced invisible patterns around your belly button.

“What happened to you liking it when I take care of you?” you pouted while lightly playing with his chains that were still dangling over you.

He reached up to brush some hair from your face and caressed your cheekbones with his knuckles.

“Please, Julie... let me show you,” he whispered with a sudden urgency in his voice, his eyes shining pleadingly under the tinted glass.

You removed his shades to get a better look at them. His deep blue eyes were almost completely black, pupils blown wide with desire, but there was also this intense vulnerability again, which overwhelmed you every time. You could tell how important this was for him right now and slowly nodded. Then you leaned forward and planted a quick kiss against his lips, which he almost anxiously returned, one hand coming up to softly knead your breast.

He eventually pulled away from you and moved down your body, gently kissing each pebbled nipple once, making you arch up against his skilled mouth before he trailed feather-light kisses along your stomach. He sat down between your legs and his hands skimmed over your hips until they stopped at the waistband of your pants. He briefly lifted you up, his hands on your butt and began to pull them down slowly. You watched with anticipation as he exposed more and more of your bare skin in slow motion, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration again. He did that a lot.

After your legs were finally completely bare under his praising eyes, he ran his hands up and down along them, whistling appreciatively. Then he gripped the back of your left knee and lifted it until your calf rested on his shoulder.

“Your legs, sweetheart,” he groaned and tapped against your thigh. “When I see you striding around with these in your lil’ platforms... Lordy, I just wanna be wrapped up in them. Every. Damn. Time.”

He turned his head and brushed his lips across your calf, the possessive grip on the back of your knee not faltering and his hot breath causing goosebumps to form on your skin. He pushed your knee back towards you until his soft mouth arrived at your ankle. Then he pulled off your shoes and tossed them off the bed, making them clatter as they landed next to the rest of your discarded clothes.

You raised your head when you felt his teeth grazing your skin, gently biting down on your ankle. He briefly kissed the light bite marks and moved up your calf again. The way his eyes were closed in bliss and his breathing ragged was almost too much for you to handle and you threw your head back into the pillow. He almost seemed to enjoy this more than you, the thought making you feel even warmer inside.

You promptly sat up again and wrapped your arms around his neck, needing to feel his velvety lips against yours again after the rest of your body got so much sweet attention from them. You held onto the hair at his neck when you felt his tongue lazily gliding over your bottom lip and moved your hips against his, feeling the slight bulge in his trousers. You reached down, your hand gliding over his crotch, feeling him half hard against your palm. He swiftly caught your wrist and brought it up to his cheek, shaking his head.

“Nuh uh, Julie baby, forget it. I already told you, this is about you. You really gotta to learn how to listen,” he chuckled, fingers gently tugging at your earlobe. “Now lie back, sweetheart, let me take care of ya. I’ll handle it.”

He hummed, his big hand sprawled across your chest, gently forcing you back against the pillow. You wordlessly stared at him as he moved back between your legs, his gaze lingering on the panties you still wore. He leaned down to get a better look at them and hooked his fingers under the waistband, toying with it.

After briefly meeting your eyes again and taking in your flushed face, he pulled them down, his hands grazing over your legs again. Your toes curled when he bunched your panties up in his fist with a grin.

“Sweetheart, these are soaked. Why didn’t ya say anything? Cat got your tongue again?” he cooed. You answered by wrapping your leg around his back, pulling him closer to you.

“Oh, I see we’re eager today, Julie baby? No words, just straight to the point. Hold on, let’s see what I can do about that,” he rumbled and lightly kissed along your inner thigh, getting closer and closer to your glistening pussy.

Just when you thought he’d pay attention to where you needed him most, he moved away again and started peppering your other thigh with sweet kisses and kitten licks.

“E! I swear-” you moaned, and tightened your leg around him, growing more and more impatient with him, the throbbing in your core nearly driving you insane.

“Oh, now she can talk again. What do you want, sweetheart?” he mumbled as he rubbed his cheek against your skin, barely able to conceal the smile tugging at his lips.

“That tickles, stop!” you laughed and moved to scoot away from him, but his hands quickly shot out to grab your hips, effectively holding you still.

You held onto the satin bed sheet when his mouth moved over the supple flesh of your thigh again, kissing and sucking at the soft skin there, surely leaving one or two hickeys. After for what felt like hours, you finally felt his hot breath ghosting over your clit, the tingling feeling in your lower belly growing stronger. You wanted to thrust up to him, desperate for any sort of friction, but found that he still had your hips in an iron grip, his fingers digging almost painfully into your skin. Each time you attempted to free yourself he tightened his hold, making it impossible to move. A whimper escaped you when he softly kissed your folds, his nose bumping into your mound.

“Quit the teasing!” you cried out, and he smirked up at you like he was having the time of his life.

“Julie baby, why are you so impatient? I told ya I’ll take care of ya,” he reminded you and licked a long stripe along your clit after deeply inhaling your scent. It made you throw your arm over your face again and you bit your hand to muffle the moans escaping you when he began to gently suckle at your sensitive nub.

One of his hands moved up to your breast and began to fondle it again, lightly pinching your nipple. You felt like your whole body was on fire, sweat forming on your forehead and you desperately wished someone would drop a bucket of ice water over you. Elvis’ moans and grunts, combined with the wet slurping noises made your ears ring and your legs began shaking from pleasure. You placed a hand over his, still gently massaging your breast and squeezed, encouraging him to increase the pressure, making him hiss.

“Damn, sweetheart... You’re so fucking wet, baby,” he grunted, voice muffled as he was still buried between your legs.

You slowly felt your orgasm approaching and grabbed onto his hair, desperate for something to ground you. You pushed his face harder against your pussy, his skilled tongue greedily trying to catch every last drop of your arousal and you nearly passed out when you suddenly felt him insert two fingers into your hole. You moaned and arched against him, your fingers and toes flexing uncontrollably when he curled his fingers inside you, his lips sucking on your clit even harder than before.

“E, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you just managed to get out before shockwaves of pleasure rolled over you, a feeling of weightlessness in your bones. It only spurred him on as he continued throughout your orgasm, desperate to get each and every little sound out of you.

When you started wriggling against him from overstimulation he pulled away from you with a stupid grin plastered on his face and withdrew his fingers, making you shudder once again. He gleefully put them in his mouth, sucking off remains of you.

“Ya taste so sweet, I can’t get enough of that.” You attempted to lean up on your elbows to kiss him, but found that your muscles were still rather limp. “Was that alright, Julie baby? Did I make ya feel good?”

“E, are you joking? You’re the best.” You smiled, your fingers ghosting over his lips. “What about you, though?” His warm mouth engulfed your finger, briefly sucking on it.

“Mmh, if I only knew before that it was that easy to tame ya.”

“Don’t get cheeky now, Presley,” you huffed.

“Ah, there she is again. I might just-“ He lazily grinned and slipped his hand between your legs to cup your overstimulated pussy again, making you jump.

“God!” you gasped when he drew back his hand and smiled innocently, while you playfully glared at him. You reached up and played with his collar.  “...But really... let me take care of you now.”

“Nah, it’s alright, sweetheart... Little Elvis is more than happy to see ya, believe me. But he’s just a bit tired today, it was a long day. Ya understand that, right?” You hesitantly nodded.

“...Okay, E. Next time,” you mumbled and gently ran your hand through his hair. He laid down his head on your thigh and absentmindedly began drawing patterns on your lower belly again, lips puckered as if deep in thought.

After a while, his eyes grew more and more heavy and you watched him battle his sleepiness. It gave you time to begin reflecting on what had happened and you quickly found that it gave you a massive headache. Was this a one-time occasion? Was it a slip-up? Would it become a regular thing? You had just muttered something about a next time without thinking. Lord have mercy!

As long as you weren’t sure about the nature of this new layer in your relationship with him you weren’t to eager to let anyone else know. That’s something you were sure about. The only thing.

You shifted slightly, your current position not at all comfortable, which caused Elvis to rouse again. He gave you a sleepy smile and clumsily crawled on top of you again, eyes half lidded and dazed.

“God, what are we going to do now?” you thought out loud.

“Mmmh, I wanna cuddle with ya,” he muttered and smushed his lips against yours with a loud smack.

“...We can’t tell no one.” you whispered, regaining your senses and staring up at the ceiling. He hummed.

“...Whatever you say, Mommy,” he cooed and buried his face in your neck as his soft stomach pressed up against your side once more, his weight on top of you immediately comforting.

“I mean it, E,” you insisted, hoping he’d manage to be serious for just a moment. He wasn’t really known for being good at keeping secrets.

“Mhm. Me too. Lordy, you’re so soft and warm, sweetheart,” he slurred and closed his eyes after a quick peck to your neck.

You sighed with a smile and pressed a kiss against his forehead while wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. There was no use in overthinking the situation right now. He smiled into your neck, still distinctly thinking about the sounds you made while he pleasured you. It felt like a lullaby.

You made a mental note to have this particular talk with him in the morning. Or, technically, afternoon and hoped he would understand.

“Good night, darling,” you murmured and dosed off with your hand resting on his chest, feeling, monitoring, his steady breathing like every night. Except everything was different now.

[starz4mk]

Bad days.—(Miguel O’hara x Blk!Fem!Reader Fluff🧸)

“Fucking hell.” You said as you entered work. You really didn’t wanna go since you weren’t too fond of the idea of being Miguel O’Hara’s “right hand man.” You didn’t even get that much sleep last night, but you’re 2 year into this. You should’ve thought about that instead of fiending over a hot, muscular vampire dude. You get to your destination and sit down in the chair next to the one and only, Miguel O’Hara.

“You’re late.” He said with a stern voice. You rolled your eyes, you were wayyy too tired to deal with his sassy ass attitude.

“What an immaculate observation.” You hissed, sarcastically. He thinks because he’s older than you he can act all tough and boss you around. Like you’d let that happen. You started typing on the computer in front of you as Miguel sighed in frustration.

“Your life you be way easier if you didn’t always talk back.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. You furrowed your eyebrows, putting on a stank face when he said that. Who the hell did he think he was talking to?

“Don’t even start that. You talk back more than everybody in the spider-verse combined, yo sassy ass.” You crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair. You watched as he turned his head towards you, that familiar nonchalant face meeting your irritated one. He hated your attitude, you hated his, it was a neutral feeling.

“How many times do I have to remind you to set your alarm, Y/n?” He sighed, his voice sounding a bit passive-aggressive. You can confirm you forgot to set your alarm, but you were pretty busy yesterday.

“I was busy, Miguel.” You snapped back. “I just had things to do before I went to sleep, you know my family always needs me to do somethin’” He raised an eyebrow, his face taking a curious expression.

“Like?” He questioned as he turned his attention to you. You knew he was gonna say that. You yawned, stretching your arms out.

“Girl, let me tell you.” He scoffed with a small smirk at your choice of words. “My uncle’s car broke down, so I had to go get him. And, guess what?!” You ranted. This was very amusing to Miguel, making his smile grow and for his to turn all his attention to you, and only you.

“What?” He said smugly. He rested his chin on his hand, which was propped up by his elbow. You were definitely enjoying the attention from the fine man in front of you, but you were still fixated on the story.

“That crackhead was all the way in CANADA. I had to drive an entire hour just to get to that old man!” You complained, rolling your eyes for what felt like the 6th time this morning. “I love that man with all my life, but I really wish someone else did that.” You huffed, fiddling with your frizzy braids. You really gotta take those bitches out. Miguel, on the other hand, was definitely enjoying himself. He looked you up & down as he listened to your story.

“Wow, such an eventful day.” He said with a snarky tone. You acted offended, putting a hand on your chest.

“That’s not the only thing that happened!” You huffed, still in a jokingly manner. He leaned in closer, crossing his arms and leaning forward so they were on his knees.

“Then tell me, Amor.” Those words sent a shiver up your spine, making your face feel warm and heart race. Your knees were almost touching his making him mighty close to you. Damn, that’s hot.

“Well.. I also had to babysit my 3 cousins, which was a nightmare.” You giggled a bit at the thought of you having to run after a 5 year old while carrying a 1 year old. You think Miguel felt your energy since his smile widened a bit. “I have a BUNCH of stories from yesterday. Just some family things.” You sighed. He put his hand on yours and looked up at you, locking eyes. All you’re seeing right now is space and opportunity. His face was closer than it should be. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but his face was still as mesmerizing as always. You swear you could almost feel his breath brush against your lips.

“You should really talk to me more, Y/n. It might not seem like it, but I enjoy your company. Though, your attitude is more than annoying, you’re a great partner in crime.” That was unexpected, but it made your heart bounce off walls like a toddler after trick-or-treating. You thought you were just like a sidekick type of thing to him, but hearing him call you his partner-in-crime, awakened an entirely different understanding. You were good at hiding facial expression, but your actions, not so much. You squeezed your thighs together and fiddled with one of the braids that always got in your face. You felt so captivated that it was nerve-racking.

“I- I really appreciate that.. Thank you, Miguel.” You smiled. You felt so delusional at that moment. You wanted to lean in, just close enough for him the hearts in your eyes. You were just about to start beating yourself up for it until you felt his cold hand on your cheek. He had that small smile that always crossed your mind 24/7. Maybe working with Miguel won’t be so bad.

[insertyourselfhere]

Anomaly Part 5

A/N: I cannot thank you guys enough, you have been blowing up my notifications with all your support on this series and its motivating me to keep going! Thank you everyone so much!

HUGE SPOILERS FOR ATSV

Pairing: Gwen Stacy x Reader

Characters: Reader, George Stacy and some slight Hobie and Gwen.

Description: Wow…All the stuff went down with Miles, the entire spider-verse chased after him. Miguel went bat shit crazy like you wouldn’t believe. Hobie quit the team, Miles sent himself home. Both you and Gwen were thrown back into your own dimensions without a watch to get you back. You broke a little fearing the fact that you will never see your friends again, fearing for Miles and absolutely devastated at the thought of Gwen now being alone in her dimension. As you laid in your lounge filling your aunt in with all those details a portal opens up, but not one you’ve ever seen before it looked like….

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

“Hobie!” You said running towards the portal, Hobie came out with a smile on his face and a watch on his wrist.

“Big steppa! How you been” he said fake punching you. He took the watch off his wrist and threw it towards you with a salute.

“You gotta help save our Gwendy yah?” He said shoving his hands back into his jean jacket pockets. You nodded putting the watch on and clicking over to earth 65. Another portal opened up and you went to walk in it, Hobie however did not follow you and laid down on your couch in your living room.

“You’re not coming?” You asked turning back towards him with a curious look in your eye.

“Nah, I think my drummer needs some time to process what’s happening hey. And I think you’re the one to do it, so off with ya. I just wanna hang out with ya aunt anyway” Before you could protest about leaving Hobie alone with your aunt he pushed you through the portal with a forceful web, the last thing you saw was his playful smirk as he kicked his feet up on the coffee table and lounged back.

You travelled through the multi-verse like you had millions of times before, it opened up and you were in Gwen’s Dimension for the first time since you had gotten to know her. It was beautiful, the world had such an eerie but amazing look to it, you had never seen something like this before. The one thing you did notice though was even though the sun was out, there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, the colours of the world were emanating a dark blue look. You could feel the sadness in the air lingering around you like a dark aura. Without a second thought you went to thwip away only to realise.

“I don’t know where she lives” Letting out the biggest sigh you fell down into a crouch, your arms resting on your knees as you thought of a plan.

You did the only thing you could think of and that was head to an internet café and look up sightings and theories about the ‘Ghost Spider’. As you entered the building still in your Spidey get up you got weird looks from different people.

“What are you meant to be?” One of them asked confused at the different costume you sported as opposed to their usual Ghost Spider costume they were used to seeing.

“Oh uh, this is my cosplay! Yeah! I decided to do my own Spider Costume as like a representation to our Ghost Spider” They all looked at you weird and you didn’t blame them. Your outfit was nearly the polar opposite to their masked hero. With a quiet groan you went to your compute and started doing some digging.

“Are you looking for her?” They asked looking over your shoulder, you were hoping that it didn’t come off as weird but then again you just looked like a crazed fan, wearing the wrong Spidey suit in an internet café full of other nerds who were probably into the same thing.

You nodded looking back at the person hoping they had something for you. “I heard that she frequently comes out of this apartment block. I’m not too sure if that’s whee she lives or if that’s her hangout but it’s what I heard” They entered an address into your computer and you couldn’t help but feel over joyed that you hug the stranger and left.

As you exited the building you yelled a quick thank you as you Thwipped out of there. “Was that another Spider?” They asked their surroundings, the person you hugged just fainted from the interaction and then everyone else began writing rumours of a new Spidey in the area.

You got closer to the building, and stuck against the wall. You didn’t know how you were going to try and find Gwen in amongst all these apartments, you slightly regretted it but you had to look. What was a clear indication though was a cop car parked outside the apartment and it meant that her dad was home too.

You went over the apartment checking (respectfully) any windows you could hoping to catch that familiar blonde hair. As you peeked into this one window though a gentleman was sitting on the toilet playing crossy road. He let out a high pitch squeal and you awkwardly thwapped way. “I’M SO SORRY IM JUST TRYING TO FIND MY FRIEND” You yelled.

Finally after hours of searching you found an open window, inside you saw those famous ballet shoes that Gwen loved and adored so much before she stole your chucks, opening the window slightly you crawled in and saw the photo of Gwen and Miles left on the desk. You smiled knowing that you had finally found the correct room.

The TV was on playing some sort of infomercials in the lounge and the sound was filtering through, you looked around the room and saw that it was untouched, somehow Gwen hadn’t made it to her room yet. Before you could do anymore digging the door opened slightly and you turned around slowly but carefully. There standing in the door was George Stacy he had a bat in his hand ready to attack you at any second. When you full turned around he noticed the Spider across your chest.

You held your arms up defensively and took your mask off just to know you weren’t trying to hide anything, however in doing so you completely forgot about what happened to you in this world.

“Y/N” George said moving slightly closer to you, bat down. You internally chastised yourself for being so reckless and revealing who you were in such a haste that you forgot about the you in this universe.

“Captain Stacy I am so….” Before you could finish George interrupted you “It’s just George now, no Captain Stacy” You went back to what Miguel had said about Captain’s and how it was their ‘Canon Event’ to die, so hearing about him no longer being captain you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Sir, I am Y/N but not from this dimension” He chuckled and left the door open gesturing for you to follow. “Yeah I can tell, you’re a bit taller, and a bit more um stockier too” he walked over to the fridge and grabbed a photo that had a photo of who looked like you and Gwen both with their arms around each other smiling big broad smiles. There was something in that photo you hadn’t seen in yourself or Gwen either. It was pure innocence.

“I see what you mean” George went and sat down back on the couch flipping through channels. “His face solemn like he didn’t want to know why you were here. You put the photo back on the fridge and turned to face him.

“Captain St…George…sir um look I am here to find Gwen, we both got tossed back into our own dimensions so I thought she would be here already but it seems like she’s not” George had a look of relief pass his eyes but only briefly. He turned to face you his eyes still harbouring a lot of sadness.

“She hasn’t come home just yet, I don’t know if she ever will” He said looking back at his tv. You got up and walked over to him. “Why did you do it?” You asked sharply, hands balled in a fist as you went into a quiet rage, now that the shock of seeing him was over you had to get your opinion out there.

“You were the only person she had left in her life, to lean on, to talk to, to look forward too and you squashed that” George looked furious standing up in his own apartment remote thrown into the couch. He looked at your face still shocked by the memory that it was you but then quickly he turned around suddenly filled with anger again.

“What do you want me to do!? My daughter LIED to me for months, years even, I don’t even know how long shes been this Spider-Woman but I know she has been lying about it to my face. She’s been the one I’ve been hunting and who’s been going around doing my job because she felt some sort of obligation to help”

“You and I both know why she lied, why she was terrified of telling you the truth behind what has been happening and you proved her point right, you tried to ARREST her, your own daughter, yeah she may of lied but you confirmed her fears the second you called her in” George took a slight step back, his form wavering in hearing those harsh words, that his own daughter couldn’t trust him and he proved her right.

“She could of told me, things would have been…” Before he could finish you cut him off “Different?” You asked venom laced in the words you repeated back to him.

“Let me tell you a story here Mr. Stacy. My Aunt knows, I told her the second I felt comfortable too because I knew it was going to be a lot on her to tell her, I knew when my truth came out that she would either cry and scream at me to stop or she would hate me for the rest of her life. My Aunt proved me wrong on so many levels that night, instead she made me a cup of Chai T….cup of Chai and she sat me down and opened up to me. She told me all about my family, my parents, my uncle. She told me about our selfless need to want to help other people and we’re willing to put ourselves on the line to do so. I understand that your situation wasn’t that great and I understand your frustration, your confusion on what she was doing and how she was putting her life on the line. However they say the apple never falls too far from the tree.”

George wasn’t mad anymore, George didn’t know what he was, he just stood there taking it all in. Taking in everything you had said to him and he knew what the right course of action was. You could see his brain internally fighting you could feel it in this world of Gwen’s the amount of sadness and hurt.

You walked up to him tentatively and placed your arms around his waist giving him a big hug. It was unusual for you because you met this guy only hours ago, however for him it’s like he had known you his life time.

“Thanks Y/N” Before you could finish your conversation you heard a portal open up in Gwen’s room and you knew what that meant, before he could protest you had slipped your mask back on and slipped out the window giving them privacy. You sat on the far opposite building to them, watching the events unfold. Your mind going crazy at wanting to see Gwen, wanting to be there, to hold her and tell her it will all be okay. Slowly though you realised that isn’t what she needed. She just needed a friend, someone to count on that she won’t end up losing again like the rest.

You stood up on the apartment building and stretched pulling yourself back to her window. George and Gwen had made their way into the living room so you took this time to go through her room a little bit more. You found old photo albums of you and your aunt all hanging out with the Stacy family. You also saw pictures of you with Parker too who seemed to be apart of this crazy group you had.

As you were perusing her room you heard pure silence coming from the lounge room, followed by a soft sob. Your heart broke at hearing that noise come out of Gwen, but you knew that her and George would be alright. As you were leaning closer to the door to get a good listen you tripped on one of Gwen’s Ballet shoes and fell through the door. You coughed a little and got up quickly dusting yourself off and standing there awkwardly while both Stacy’s looked at you funny.

“Um that wasn’t supposed to happen, there was a fly in my mask and I was trying to get it out but I ah tripped and fell…” Before you could finish your ramble Gwen had rushed her way over to you and leaped into your arms. You hugger her back with all the love you could muster showing her that you were here for good.

“Y/N” She said, a small tear in her eye, you wiped it away before setting her down again. “It’s only been like what 5 minutes for you since I last saw you, why are you upset?” You asked she was still wrapped around your arms and then nuzzled herself under your chin. “I thought I’d lost you again” She said quietly “Pfft as if Vampire, ninja super buff big guy Miguel was going to keep me away from you” She let go of you and walked back towards her father who had the biggest grin on his face. His whole face was filled with love and you could feel it in the air. The landscape around you began to change, no longer did it have that blue filter (Twilight) on but now it was radiating much brighter colours, it felt warm and breathable.

“How did you get here?” She asked walking towards you and grabbing your hand, you sighed and intertwined your hands together.

“It’s a long story but we need to get going like asap, I’ll explain on the way but here’s a gift from Hobie” You took the watch off your wrist and gave it to Gwen, her eyes widened at the make shift watch you had for her. She had a determined look in her eye and pulled down her mask, you doing the same thing (After getting that fly out of course). “We just need to stop off in my dimension and pick up Hobie, I’m terrified to know that he’s been with my aunt alone this whole time” She laughed and set the destination to your dimension. You jumped in straight away knowing she would follow suit, the last thing you saw before you could no longer see them is Gwen hugging her father again before following suit.

“So explain things to me now”

“Okay so Hobie was being destructive or so I thought…”

[demonslayedher]

Things that went through my head while watching this episode: --Herein lies the biggest irony about Hantengu: His transformation into something reminiscent of a Buddhist deity; the sort of fierce and menacing kind that uses violence for justice. Zouhakuten is as convinced of his own righteousness as much as Hantengu is convinced of his own self-pity, and this is what Tanjiro is unable to stomach about him. Tanjiro cares about the strong defending the weak, so it's not just all the lives Hantengu has stolen, it's his blasphemy that makes him hate him.

--In a Kimetsu Kindergarten AU, I want to see Tanjiro and Rui and Zouhakuten all get into schoolyard arguments all the time.

--For as much as I've been appreciating the irony of Hantengu this time around, I do not consider myself well-versed enough in Buddhist iconography to do any detailed analysis of Zouhakuten's character design and name (yet), but suffice to this: The tengu references in Ki-Do-Ai-Raku's designs also borrow from the attire used in practicing Shugendo, because tengu are often depicted as and associated with Shugendo practitioners. Shugendo is a mountain ascetic religion with multiple influences, including Buddhist, and Zouhakuten looks like the sort of deity Shugendo practitioners might encounter in the mountains.

--But if anyone in this episode lives up to the Shugendo ideal, it is Haganezuka. That Taisho Secret with his extreme physical and spiritual preparation? That's what I mean, right there. That hyperfocus, though? If I were to diagnose one character in this series as neurodivergent, it is Haganezuka-san, and that maybe be part of where he gets his hyperfocus. Still, it's built into the plot that he prepared to put his life on the line for this endeavor, so I also give him credit for having also practiced spiritual mastery! For when it counts, anyway. Swords are the only time when it counts.

--Muichiro--both physically and spiritually-- was very vividly saved by Kotetsu's actions, but Haganezuka also deserves credit for having been the perfect person to exploit Gyokko's weakness--his pride as an artist. (You get a 'you tried' gold star, Kanamori-san--for now, because the sword you smithed saves the day later. Truly, everyone's actions are important!).

--Might I just say--OWWWW, Kotetsu's solar plexus might not have been punctured, but that's gotta hurt. And speaking of getting punctured, MUICHIRO FELL FLAT ON THOSE NEEDLES HE STILL HAD STUCK TO THE FROM OF HIM, OW OW OW OW OW OW OW

--The fact that Rengoku-san's tsuba was what saved Kotetsu is another why reason I really, really wanna see Senjuro and Kotetsu become penpals

--I like that even though Tanjiro and Mr. Tokito have a resemblance, Mr. Tokito sounds like a dad. But Tanjiro has so many bags around his eyes in comparison--Mr. Tokito is so much better rested! I guess he's resting in peace.

--I love this bitter side of Muichiro. It's not simply that he picked up a sharp tongue from Yuichiro, but instead, a utilitarian outlook on the world that makes him quick to judge others--or himself--as incapable. Mr. Tokito's words really were such gentle and chiding guidance. I wonder what Yuichiro's reaction to their dad was if he ever tried to have a similar teaching moment with him?

--Jumping back to the first half of this episode, making Tanjiro and Genya barely able to stand under the pressure of Zouhakuten is, well, sort of a convenient way of portraying "look he is powerful" and "now we have the hero converse with a demon." It's not quite as memorable as other times this happens in the series, but it is a signature part of KnY for this to happen.

--Another big difference between Tanjiro and Genya, at least in displaying their potential as Pillars (which Genya agonizingly recognized in the previous episode that he doesn't possess), is that while Genya spend a lot of time thinking "WTF!? W... T... F?!? WTF!!! WTFWTFWTFWTF!!!" Tanjiro is already back to rolling with the new situation. The fact that Tanjiro wasn't killed instantly by those wooden serpents was because he possessed the peace of mind to grab on and use his chances and move around to where there were pockets of safety. If Genya were in that position, he'd probably just take the hit and then flop around until his body regenerates. Likewise, Tanjiro's ability to sense unique demons, their locations, and how powerful they are is something he has continually developed, so he had a general idea how Zouhakuten came to be, but Genya needed to witness it. Again, like started in the last episode, Genya deserves a lot of credit for how hard he's worked and how much more he's able to do than just munch. Even in demon mode here, he mostly uses demon mode for the regenerative ability, and for offense he still reloads his gun and holds onto his broken blade.

--Nezuko, girl, you too. Just charging in and sacrificing limbs without a thought. Girl, you have gotten too used to this freaky regenerative speed of yours and the whole Corp sure is lucky most demons never achieve that.

--Again, I'm not a shipper, but I am tickled by the idea of reframing things with a Genya x Aizetsu angle (probably just one-sided infatuation, or even that they are exes but Aizetsu is still in love). After all, Genya knows Aizetsu's name, but didn't use the names of the other demons! Ohohoho! That sure adds more meaning to Genya witnessing Aizetsu's final moments of terror! (For the record, I do not see any of this in canon; it is simply funny.)

[badchoicesworld]

Ok this might be too niche, and if so I totally get it. Its a bit similar to the one about post top surgery (which I loved, by the way)

So I don't know if you've ever heard of transtape, but it's a type of binding. And boy it can be REALLY itchy. So I was wondering if you could write a noir fic where the reader and him are eating out somewhere, or even at home, and the reader is (trying to hide it but kind of hardcore failing) itching at the tape like they've got some sort of allergic reaction.

But noir is obviously concerned like "what's wrong are you having an allergic reaction???" And the reader is like "oh Nono it's nothing-". Either because they didn't tell noir they were trans yet, or simply because they don't want him to worry and flip out.

But then noir is like "absolutely not" and he goes into full "gotta save my partner" mode, because he thinks there's gotta be some sort of obscenely serious allergic reaction here, and he's doing a full medical examination while panicking. The reader finally tells him what's up when they see just how worried he is, and he's relieved but also still concerned. Cute hugs included please.

Thanks so much! I don't know if this completely ridiculous, but thank you!

noir finds out you wear trans tape

yknow, i love spider verse so dearly but if i ever became one it’s incredible how fast id become past tense, my arachnophobia could not live w the fact that i’d be part spider

established relationship

warnings: none, don’t think

pairing: spider-noir x transmasc!reader

requests: check out the masterlist !

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

ever since you invited noir to your dimension, he’s been wanting to try out all of the new food places that he’s never heard of before

he mostly sees a sign that he really likes, something usually glowing and neon and immediately assumes the food has to be incredible

admittedly, a lot of the food is better in comparison to 30’s cuisine

it’s like a tradition for you guys to get takeout once a week, something like that, just to try out new foods and see if you can find anything you like

this is one of those instances, later in the week where you two decide to order some takeout and kick back in your place

you also happen to be three days deep into wearing trans tape, right around that mark where it starts to get irritating and itchy if not maintained properly

of course, you’ve done pretty well at keeping this little detail about yourself private, for your own reasons

that of course includes from your partner, peter parker/spider-noir

wether he knows you’re trans or not, he’s unaware that you bind with trans tape and if you were ever to explain that to him, he’d be fuckin clueless

trans tape ? the tape is trans ? what ?

so yeah i don’t blame you for keeping it a secret

anyway, you two are settling down with your food from this new joint that noirs had his eye on for a bit

it slaps, food slaps, food is amazing

and it’s a pure coincidence that your trans tape starts to really irritate you, the adhesive or maybe one of those annoying as fuck loose fibres that’s just barely grazing ur skin

at first you just try to discreetly readjust your body while trying not to spill food all over you, easy enough

but then the itch doesn’t go away .

try as you might, there’s no way of discreetly dealing with an itch . give it a scratch, lest it haunts you for the rest of your life

you again, try to do it as discreetly as possible

but after a while, even noirs oblivious ass will notice how thoroughly you’re trying to scratch at yourself

at first his head is completely empty, he’s just staring at you cluelessly until he thinks that it could have something to do with the new food you’re both eating

immediately voices this concern, doesn’t bother to beat around the bush if he thinks your health is at risk, straight up “what’s wrong? are you allergic?” with no context

now you’re both confused cause, no, you’re not ? but then ah, right, attempting to discreetly scratch an itch can look awkward

assuming your allergic is probably the smartest thing to do

insist you’re okay with no further explanation, and noir will just assume you’re attempting to downplay it

takes it into his own hands, sets his food aside without hesitation and does the same for you

starts a full scale investigation, he is a PI

starts to gently pull on your arms to get a better look at them, rolling your sleeves up if you’re wearing them

checking your temperature, getting up close to see if you’re breaking out in any sort of rash while asking plenty of questions, like a real detective

he doesn’t start to panic until he doesn’t find any of these symptoms at all, now he’s perplexed and worried

the whole time you can be trying to spew reassurances or excuses, but he’s not convinced until there evidence to suggest you’re NOT having an allergic reaction to the food

you’ll be here forever unless you spill what’s going on

so, in your time, you eventually will

you’ll reassure him once again that you’re fine and go on to explain to him what’s going on, that you’re binding and your trans tape is starting to irritate you

the concept of being trans is a little confusing to him, but the physical act of taping your chest down is a lot easier for him to understand since it’s a like, an action (does that make sense)

so while it might confuse him why you do it at first, especially if it’s gets irritating after a while, he can understand the actual action of doing it

in his head it’s like “oh. okay.” idk man it’s ur appearance he doesn’t have a say in that shit, he doesn’t wanna, he just acknowledged that this is a thing you do

but then he gets curious

he’ll ask about the details, why it irritates and if there’s things you can do to avoid it

explain to him that, yeah, it can suck to bind and there’s instances where it can be a risk, but you do it for the sake of your wellbeing

he’ll insist that you don’t have to bind around him if it makes you uncomfortable

in his head, if something bad has happened while you bind once, it could happen again

now he’s just kinda bummed that this is something you have to endure at all, just for the sake of your own comfort

he’ll probably hit you with a “Well. Do you have to?” a few times in one sitting, in the least insensitive way possible

he just doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable

seems counter productive to him, to do something that causes discomfort to BE comfortable

but he’s just having a hard time understanding the importance

still, he’s not feeling great about it now and wants to show you he’s there through plenty of TLC

grab ur takeout and pick a movie with some bright ass colours

he’s notably a little more delicate now around your chest, especially the sides

for future reference, he’s happy to help you tape up if you ever need the extra pair of hands

but you will have to teach him how to do it properly, if not, he’ll think ur supposed to go as tight as possible

also willing to help take it off, is for some reason the one wincing

he’s checking up on you constantly now

ESPECIALLY after he’s done his own research and learned about how dangerous binding can be if it’s not done right

he’s over dramatic, let him have his moment

he is the type to physically stop you from doing certain things you shouldn’t while binding- will give you one of those disapproving looks while he waits for you to do the right thing

he’ll hit you with a “what do you think you’re doing, mister?” and u just know it’s over

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

bind safely freaks

[spicysix]

「eddie munson X gn!reader • roadtrip!AU」

2.5k words | prev | next | masterlist | ao3 warnings: none! this is just a fluffy filler! songs of the chapter: let me know - KISS • me and bobby mcgee - janis joplin

Tuesday, July 29

Eddie had really ordered food and was really watching Golden Girls on the TV when you woke up a few hours later, and the sun had set already. You giggled and stretched, went to the bathroom, and when you came back he had your meal ready  — an entire pizza for you and an entire pizza for him. You sat side by side, backs to the headboard, shoulders touching, sharing warmth. It felt so good. It felt simple.

You talked a lot, too. At first, you just got to know each other better. You told Eddie more about your childhood and your grandma, her hippie ways that you knew your mother had inherited from the pictures around your childhood home. The jewelry and bijous you kept from both of them, still your favorites to this day, and how they were all that was left of them for you to keep.

Eddie, in return, talked about his own childhood with Wayne, how he’d spend his summers with him before fully moving in, how Wayne showed him his hobbies and Eddie learned how to work on cars, fish and play his guitar. He said he looked forward to taking Wayne on a grand fishing trip one day hopefully, how he’d love to be one of those people on little boats fishing on Lewis Lake as you had seen the day before.

Then, he got up from the bed, discarded the empty pizza boxes and came back with his guitar case. Opened it in front of the two of you, and the guitar inside it was the same one he used to lure the bats in the Upside Down. You looked at it for a minute too long. She was beautiful. But she also gave you some bad chills.

“I haven’t played her ever since that night.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and when you looked at him you thought you’d never seen him more sad. “Couldn’t.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just rested your hand on top of his knee. He kept watching the guitar, and you kept watching him, for what felt like ages. Suddenly, he took a deep breath and took her out of the case, holding her as one should hold a guitar.

“What’s your favorite song?” he asked. You were startled and a mix of feeling honored and dreading.

“You don’t have to-” he cut you off.

“I want to. C’mon. Your favorite?”

You answered him and thankfully he knew that one. Thought about it for a while before tentatively stringing the cords of his guitar. The sound wasn’t loud, and it felt a little off without an amp plugged in, but you could still recognize it.

He just hummed along for the first verse before looking up at you for just a second. “I don’t know the lyrics, you gotta sing,” he said and smirked before looking down to see what his fingers were doing again.

You laughed and sang along, off-key as always but it didn’t seem to matter. You were having fun, and judging by the wide grin on Eddie’s lips, so was he. He finished your song and you clapped with enthusiasm before he followed with a song of his own choice. You recognized it from one of his tapes, and this time you were the one just humming as he sang out loud.

When he finished that one, he rested the guitar back on its case and opened and closed his hands in fists a few times.

“Long time without playing, I’m rusty,” he said with a half-smile, half-grimace, before getting up to put the now-closed case back near his bags where it was before.

In the meantime, you tucked yourself under the sheets and settled to watch some more Golden Girls before sleeping again. Eddie chuckled when he saw you, but didn’t waste his time before doing the same and lying on his side facing you, his fingers once again caressing your cheeks.

“Y’know, I was going to ask you to drive because my feet hurt like hell from all the walking with the wrong shoes yesterday,” he started, “But you were being so bitchy I decided it was best not to,” he finished with a smirk.

You knew it was a joke, that he was teasing you, but you felt the guilt bubbling inside your tummy nonetheless.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I shouldn’t have acted so passive-aggressively,” you murmured while looking down, but he cupped your face and made you look at him again.

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I didn’t act on it too.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t treat me like shit all day.”

He called your name with a sigh, “You didn’t treat me like shit, you were just a bit moody. You apologized, it’s past now, right?” You nodded. “Kitten just gets grouchy without kisses, huh?”

There was a smirk on his lips as he leaned in to kiss your face, and you giggled. You remembered how you compared him to a feral kitten when your journey had just started and he was cagey and grumpy, and you now felt like you had finally won his undoubting trust. It was both funny and endearing how he found a way to nickname you the same thing in return.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said with a weak slap to his arm.

“Hey! No name-calling, don’t go bitchy again.” You snorted and he gave you a peck on the lips before pulling back and staring right into your eyes, going serious again. “Just... Let’s talk, okay? We don’t wanna complicate it, right, so we have to talk.”

You nodded again and he smiled sweetly before leaning back in and kissing you once more. Your stomach was swirling the most delicious of turns as his hand slipped from your face to the back of your neck, bringing your faces impossibly closer. You once again let your hands get lost in his mane, increasing his frizz and tangling his hair, but he didn’t seem to mind. His tongue was slow and lazy moving against yours, no rush, no hurry, and his hands were leaving warm traces on your skin under your shirt.

Even if leisurely, the pace still escalated and soon enough he was practically sitting on your thighs and taking off his shirt before diving back to kiss your neck, leaving wet kisses and nibbles along the way. Your hands were going up and down his shoulder blades and you couldn’t hold back your sighs as his fingers traced your chest over your shirt. You scratched his back and he hissed in delight before pulling back.

Only then you realized you hadn’t seen him without his shirt before.

You traced his scars as gently as you could. They weren’t as pink or as jutting as the ones on his neck and jaw, probably from being less exposed to the sun. Eddie watched you studying him.

“Do they hurt?” you asked, not taking your eyes or your fingers off his scars.

“Not really. Sometimes they’re sore, and if I overuse my abs it can be a little painful, but it’s not like I’m hitting the gym every day,” he answered with a snort and you smiled.

You sat up with him still on your lap and bowed down to kiss his skin tenderly. You felt him shudder under your fingertips, and the goosebumps that waved through him. You started at the ones near his hips and went up until you reached his chest. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact that his left nipple was missing. You licked the skin where it once was and he sighed.

“Do you miss it?” you asked, smile still pressed against his skin as you looked at him from under your eyelashes.

“Sometimes, I mean, it’s kinda weird to have just one.” He laughed and you crossed his chest to kiss the other one still remaining.

“Was that one also pierced?” you asked again, feeling the cold of the barbell against your lips and giving it a gentle tug with your teeth.

Eddie hissed. “Yeah, it was.”

He didn’t wait for you to ask any more questions before grabbing your jaw, pulling you away from his chest, and leaning down to kiss you again. His tongue invaded your mouth immediately, and it was fiercer this time, faster, more desperate.

You felt like your body was on fire.

He maneuvered the two of you until you were lying down again and he was in between your legs, your ankles crossed behind his back. He was slowly grinding on you and you couldn’t help but moan when his hand reached up and he teased your nipple with his calloused fingers. He laughed against your skin where his face was pressed to your neck before giving it a kiss.

“Should we keep it simple?” he asked and for a second you wanted to kill him, but he was right. You weren’t sure if you were ready for more just yet.

You nodded and his hand left your chest, coming to rest over your shirt again as he kissed you slowly to help you down through your highs. You cupped his face in return and soothed the scars on his jaw and neck just as you did to the ones on his torso, and you could feel each other’s smiles against your lips.

“Do you need another cold shower?” he asked, that teasing smirk again and you laughed loudly.

“Let’s just sleep,” you answered as you got up to close the curtains and turn off the lights. You didn’t turn off the TV, just lowered the volume so the light of it was still illuminating the bed and the low humming of Golden Girls could help lull you to sleep.

As you lied down beside him again, he didn’t wait until he fell asleep this time, he just caged you on his embrace and buried his face on your neck again while still conscious. It felt like pure bliss once more, and you could bet a few dollars that you both went down to slumber in synchrony.

Wednesday, July 30

As you woke up the next day, late in the morning, you noticed how much you needed that good night of deep rest. Your body was feeling limp, and your eyes were a little heavy, but it felt all so worth it.

Eddie woke up as you were in the bathroom, and as you left he was changing his clothes into something he could wear outside.

“Thought we could go for a walk?” he asked, and you nodded before grabbing some clothes of your own to change into.

It wasn’t long before you were in the van again, Eddie smiling wide and excitedly singing along to KISS making your mood also go high up. No map in hand, no place to go, no plan to follow. You were simply driving around the town and watching as it passed you by. Missoula was a very touristy place, with a lot of outdoor options to enjoy the nature, and everywhere you looked you saw people who were ready to go on trails and hikes.

The sun was covered by clouds, a summer rain approaching, but it still wasn’t enough to sour your and Eddie’s moods. You looked at him across the front bench of the van, a loud guitar riff echoing and vibrating through your soul, his smile big and bright and for your eyes only, and you felt better than you did in a good while.

Eventually you reached a park and you took your sweet time walking around it, seeing the families having their fun, enjoying the cooler weather, and Eddie held your hand in his as if it was his second nature to do so. You pointed out trees and plants and he picked up a flower for you.

“Is this against the park’s rules? Am I killing nature?” he asked as he handed you a few dandelions, whites and yellows alike.

“Well, if it is let’s get out before the park cops catch us,” you answered with a laugh and he held your hand as he pulled you forward, the two of you practically running and laughing loudly, unbothered by the people staring.

You left the park not much later, the dandelions peeking from the back pocket of your shorts, and headed downtown where you found a records store. You and Eddie looked through the tapes and vinyls and when you found Joplin’s “Pearl” you couldn’t help but whine in frustration.

“This is my favorite of hers,” you said, and Eddie came from where he was looking through the metal tapes.

“It’s her best one. You should get it.”

You chuckled. “And play it where, Eddie?”

He shrugged with a smile. “We’ll get a record player when we arrive at wherever we’re going.”

He picked up the vinyl with one of his hands, using the other to grab yours once more and dragging you to a thankfully empty private listening room for you to listen to the record. He placed it in place on the player, Side B first because he was weird that way, carefully setting down the needle in a random song instead of the beginning.

You recognized the guitar immediately and turned to Eddie with a big smile.

“This song is very fitting, I think. Fate’s messing with us.”

He chuckled and grabbed your hand to spin you once and twice in the tiny space of the room and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“I was playing soft while Bobby sang the blues, windshield wipers slapping time,” you sang along and Eddie smiled as he watched you, his hand still on yours. “I was holding Bobby’s hand in mine, we sang every song that driver knew.” You threw him a pointing look and he laughed loudly again.

“Yeah, okay, it’s a fitting song,” he admitted.

“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose,” you sang again, and he nodded with the lyrics. “Yeah, feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues. Yeah, feeling good was good enough for me.”

He used the hand still on yours to pull you closer to him, his chest pressed to yours as his hand moved to your waist and the other found the nape of your neck.

“Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee.”

He kissed you then, as Janis’ voice still surrounded you, and you didn’t think you’d ever get used to it, or if you’d ever get tired of it, of his lips on yours. Your hands found his shoulders and you were still swaying softly to the sides as his tongue caressed yours and you chuckled into the kiss as you thought about calling him Bobby from now on. You felt his smile against your lips, and he didn’t know what you were thinking, but you thought it was enough to know that kissing you made him as happy as kissing him made you. It was sweet, and hungry, and as fitting as the song was for the two of you.

Lord, I called him my lover I called him my man I said I called him my lover, did the best the best I can

end notes: we're approaching the end and i'm not ready for it

taglist (is open!): @amira0303 @rupsmorge @wyverntatty

[just-horrible-things]

‘Verse: Box Boy Universe Story: A Girl Called Spider Timeline: Not long before Spider's birthday gift

Turnabout [Next]

He’s had this nightmare before. The one where he wakes up on white tiles, in one of the so-familiar white rooms, with a collar round his neck.

He swallows. His throat is dry and sticky. His eyes itch.

His head swims when he tries to get up, so he crawls. He knows, before he reaches the door, that it won’t open. He tries anyway.

It’s just a dream, he tells himself, as he sinks back to the floor. It’s just a bad dream, just gotta wake up. 

The room fades in and out, mixing and blurring with other dreams, until he forgets the fear.

He’s woken by a sharp impact to the ribs. He groans, rolls over, and blinks blearily up the length of a handler’s uniform at the stranger looking down at him.

“Mmbuh?” he queries eloquently.

She kicks him again.

“Owwhh! -- Whawasatfr?” “Move,” she commands with a sharp gesture.

Rayce sits up on his elbows to look around, and abruptly realises he is naked. His mouth opens in surprise.

“How’d I…?” “I said, move.”

She grabs him by the – by the collar – and he chokes, legs scrabbling to take his weight, as she hauls him further into the room and drops him back onto the tiles.

He gawks up at her.

“Hold on,” he says, “hold on, now, this isn’t funny. This – this is some sick joke, you’ve got some nerve –” “I don’t joke,” the woman says.

And the world whites out with pain.

Something white-hot is stabbed through his throat and he chokes, eyes bulging, scrabbling at his neck but there’s nothing there but the collar – the fucking collar – he tries to pull it away from his skin and he can’t breathe and –

– it stops.

The searing pain vanishes, leaving only an itching sting and the tightness of cramped muscles. The scream dies in his throat and he gasps deeply for air.

“One,” the woman says, “you don’t talk back to your handlers. Two,” ticking it off on her fingers, “you don’t touch your collar.”

He sees the remote this time, in a brief flash of clarity. He sees her thumb on the button.

Then the pain steals his vision, his thoughts, his mind and he can only howl and panic and thrash on the floor.

There are tears in his eyes when it stops.

He stares up at the unfamiliar handler, panting raggedly. His throat burns.

“No,” he says, “hold on, there’s been some mistake, I’m not –” “Three,” she says over him, not loudly but firmly, “you don’t say no to me.”

He screams again. The shock knifes through his throat, a blade of pure pain lodged through his windpipe. And this time it goes on, and on, and on. He doesn’t feel his fingernails digging gouges in his neck.

Only when the world dims and starts to go dark does the agony finally let up.

Light and wits filter back in slowly. He’s aware of the rasping breath in his burning throat before he’s aware of his limbs, sprawled out at inelegant angles.

Right above his face is the woman with the remote, crouched over him with impassive disinterest.

He opens his mouth, but she lays a single finger across his lips. “Shhh.”

With a painful swallow, Rayce is quiet.

“For someone who already knows all the rules, I’d have thought you’d be better at this.” “I’m not –” he tries to croak. This time she only has to move the remote into his line of sight, and his teeth click shut again.

The electrode is still burning against his throat, a hot coal lodged underneath the collar.

“Better. Do you know why I kept shocking you that last time?” Fractionally, he shakes his head. “You kept touching the collar.”

He doesn’t remember touching the collar. But he doesn’t argue, not with her thumb still resting on the button.

“What was it you were going to tell me?” she asks. “Shh, let me guess. You’re not supposed to be here, you’re supposed to be in my shoes. Your name is Cosmo Rayce, you work for WRU like me, there’s been some kind of mix-up and you want me to take that collar off you and give you some clothes. Does that about cover it?”

Rayce stares up at her, mouth open. She takes a tri-folded piece of paper from her pocket, opens it out, and holds it in front of his face.

It’s a contract, the final page of a Pet contract, signing over life and rights and identity in perpetuity to the company. 

And at the bottom, the unmistakable scrawl of his own signature.

“N… no…”

The handler sighs, and Rayce screams again as another shock rips through his throat.

“I didn’t sign that,” he protests, as soon as he can catch his breath. “I didn’t –” “Look me in the eyes,” says the handler tiredly, “and tell me you really believe every Pet signs their own contract.” He can’t. He knows damn well they don’t. “Now tell me if you really think it matters whether you signed or not.” When he doesn’t respond, the crease between her eyebrows deepens. “I asked you a question. Do you think it makes any difference, whether this signature is real or fake?”

He shakes his head, just a millimeter’s motion in either direction.

“Speak up. Does it matter?” She has the contract in one hand, the remote still in the other. Her thumb hasn’t left the button. “... no,” he whispers. “You know better than that. No, what?” He swallows – it hurts. He knows the answer. He only hesitates for a second, because it’s hard to force the words out – but it’s too long.

His back arches with the shock, and drops helplessly back to the tiles when it stops.

“What do you say?” she prompts, “No, what?” “.... no, Handler.” His face burns. She smiles, a thin and lifeless smile. “Good.”

[Next]