#it mentions susan and 1

[terranceholdsapencil]

Tumblr and Twitter: "Boom was the best s14 episode!" "No 73 yards was the best!!!"

My head:

"Child of the toymaker?" "C'est moi mon cher!

I should thank you, Doctor. Daddy was SO BAD TO ME!

🎶Daddy was so mean! Daddy was so tough! Daddy daddied me, and that was quite enough!🎶 "

[toastywindow]

POV: your name is micah bell

[bleakbluejay]

top five women

the hardest ask i've ever gotten as a lesbian. "all of them" is a funny answer but i will try to pick 5.

hmmmmm.

in no particular order:

Lara Croft from the Tomb Raider series

She's smart, she's strong, she's witty, and she's hot. What else is there? I loved the Tomb Raider games as a kid. I used to make her do flips and swan dives and play around with her outfits (most relevant in Anniversary and Legend). She was so so cool. I'm not as big a fan of the reboot Lara, other than they made her queer, but :)

Anna the Huntress from Dead by Daylight

My wife. The game lore did her kinda dirty, but that's what headcanon is for. She's a big strong tall Russian lady who lives in the woods and hunts people. She kidnaps little girls from villages so she can take care of them in her little cabin and give them toys. She kills nazis. She sings. I'm so, so in love with her.

Ellen Ripley from the Alien series

Sigourney Weaver in general... but Ripley in particular. Brave, adaptable, intelligent. A girlboss if there ever was one. She's one of my favorite Final Girls (topped only by Nancy from the original Nightmare on Elm Street). Everything Ripley ever says is 100% correct and for some reason nobody wants to listen to her.

Leia Organa from Star Wars

A princess. A general. A rebel leader. And a badass bitch. Leia was one of the earliest examples of a good, strong-willed and fearless female character I had as a kid. Even if she needs rescue from time to time, she does plenty of rescuing others herself. She takes no guff from scoundrels like Han Solo or fascists like Grand Moff Tarkin. Her parents would be so, so proud of her.

Nani Pelekai from Lilo and Stitch

The relationship between Nani and her little sister Lilo reminded me a lot of my mom and me. And it takes a lot to raise a little kid on your own (especially one that is a little special needs like me and Lilo both were), working a crappy job, having no time for a social life, and having to fight against Child Protective Services. Being poor + indigenous + a broken family fucking sucks. But Nani held it together, just like my mom did. I can't forget a character like that.

[mysterycharacterflowers]

Yellow Rose VS A bouquet of black-eyed susan, orange lily, amaryllis, canna, black petunia and purple hyacinth

First, let's talk about the Yellow Rose

Meaning: in flower language they symbolize friendship and cheerfulness... but also jealousy. Why this flower was chosen: this flower is canonically associated with her, and the themes of jealousy and bitterness fit her character as well Description: — Well… Like her father, she seems to have an artistic streak- She has a lot of drawings, and is implied to have some knowledge on sewing as well. She's spent her life isolated from the outside world, and it's had effects on her personality. (As well as her knowledge base for how the world works.) She's generally cheerful, but she's quick to turn on those that upset her, and she latches onto those she *does** like with an intensity only lonely little girls can reach. — A scared, lost, and lonely child desperate to find connection with people. She developed sentience but were not created with it, and since she was not born into the world through "normal" means, she's not entitled to their existence, and deeply envy humans who were just born into life and take it for granted. All she wants is to get to the Real World and live out her life as a human child with friends and family.

Check her post here

Now, let's see the bouquet of black-eyed susan, orange lily, amaryllis, canna, black petunia and purple hyacinth

Meaning – Black-eyed Susan: Justice | Orange lily: Disdain, contempt, hatred | Amaryllis: Pride, strength, determination | Canna: Passion, pride, honor, glory | Black petunia: Anger, resentment | Purple hyacinth: Sorrow, regret, forgiveness Description: He acts out of a distorted sense of justice, trying to condemn anyone he deems a wrongdoer (in the form of him cancelling them on Twitter), genuinely believing himself to be a hero of sorts. [...] Over time, however, it wasn't for justice anymore. After a while, he started going after people for small, insignificant "crimes", simply trying to feed his own ego, living for the glory of it all. [...] Until one day, a girl he had condemned was either doxxed and killed by one of his friends, or perhaps committed suicide [...] He's absolutely HORRIFIED with himself over the incident. He's arrested, but still in denial, insisting he didn't kill anyone. That it wasn't his fault. He knows it was, deep down, but he's so disgusted with what he had done, he refuses to admit it. He frequently lashes out at the prison guard, insisting he doesn't belong there, that they should let him go, that he's not a murderer. But he is. He knows he is. [...]. He hates the prison guard.[...] But his denial has cracked. He finally shows his guilt, his remorse for his crime, and he BEGS. He begs for forgiveness. For just one more chance. A desperate plea for the guard to forgive him. An apology. Saying that he would never do it again. That he'd take it all back if he could. He finally understands what he had been doing to people. [...] The TLDR is: he's so complex. He acted for justice but was misguided. A horrible accident happens, and he regrets it. Then when he's condemned, eventually he understood what he was doing to people, and he's desperate for forgiveness. Overall he's just my poor little meow meow...

Check his post here to see the full description

[kod-lyoko]

.

[adviceformefromme]

How I healed my inner child: 

1] I read Susan Anderson - taming your outer child. This book changed my life, it was recommended to me and taught me the ways my inner child reacts when hurting, it teaches how to journal with your inner child which in moments of extreme anxiety has allowed me to connect with little me and unblock what is coming up in that moment. 

2] CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy). Another opportunity to learn about how toxic behaviours in my relationships were rooted in my childhood. Understanding this helped, although did not fully clear this out…

3] Until I started EFT (emotional freedom tapping), working with a EFT therapist (costs the same as a meal out or a new pair of shoes if not less), each session I was able to unblock traumas and behavioural patterns that were rooted in my childhood and make peace with them once and for all. 

4] Forgiveness, I’ve mentioned this before but writing every situation that has hurt me since I could remember from childhood to present day and visualising myself as a loving adult letting little me know I am sorry (one by one) for each trauma I went through, no matter how big or small. This took a few weeks/ months but the weight I felt after, I knew shifts had been made. 

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I Hate The New Hero!

Pt 3: How bad can a day get?

Tim gazes at you. He doesn’t know what to do or feel.

He hates you, he really does, but at the same time he kind of enjoyed the afternoon with you. If you put aside the arguments and such it was kind of fun being in your presence.

He’s conflicted, he should hate you – you’ve done bad things in the past and you hate Aranea! But, hanging out with you gives him some kind of weird feeling – euphoria fills him when you make a sarcastic comment in jest or when you chuckle at one of his jokes.

There were times you both fought but it felt nice to see you come back into the room and not just leave – his parents tended to leave for the whole night if they got into an argument and he’d have to stay in his estate alone.

He watches as you sleep peacefully, you’re in the lower age part of his class – with you being sixteen and he seventeen – yet you look so much more youthful while sleeping, your face isn’t in a scowl or bored look, you look content.

Tim slowly gets up from the bed and looks around the small, cramped room. It's easy for anyone to feel claustrophobic and it feels wrong for someone to live in it who acts like how you usually do.

His attention is drawn to the toy chest in one corner, curiosity fighting with respect to open it. One peak wouldn't hurt and surely you wouldn't find out.

He walks over, one of the floorboards creaking, it was only two steps but felt longer for him. He opens the chest. As he stares down at it's contents he's filled with disappointment.

In the chest there's only diaries, metal and engineering bits and pieces. He guesses he should have expected this, you're a civilian, you wouldn't be hiding anything to begin with.

His eye catches on a childish diary decorated in stickers and press on jewels. Before his mind can register what he's doing he picks it up and turns it over in his hands a couple times, examining it.

The date goes back twelve years. So you'd be about four at the time. There's nothing to hide so he opens it - a sneak peak never hurt anyone.

Diary entry 1:

Today I got this diary from my mama! I can decorate it however I want! Mama said it's my birthday gift, I wanted a stuffed toy but this works too! I don't want to disappoint my mama by saying I don't like it!

My neighbor, Susan, is helping me write this! I love her, she's very old and wrinkly and I think she is going to turn to dust. Which is sad.

Bye now!

The first thing Tim noticed was the messy handwriting. It was endearing in a way to see it. The next was the way you spoke about Susan. It was blunt but it seemed you liked her.

He goes to turn another page when he hears the front door of the apartment open and talking entering the once quiet apartment.

He quickly places the diary where it was before and he packs away everything. He debates putting you into the bed before deciding that you're fine.

He walks out and is immediately met with a plate smashing the wall next to him as a frazzled man stands in the kitchen, cowering almost. Tim puts his hands up slightly to show he's harmless and the man's stiff form eases slightly.

The man raises his hands and signs out a sentence.

"What are you doing in my apartment?"

Tim raises a brow, should he sign back or just talk? After some consideration he decides to sign back.

"Your child and I are partners on a project for school"

The man's eyes darken slightly at the mention of his daughter - or who Tim guesses was his child, they bare some resemblance.

"So my child is a slut like her mother then?"

Tim stares, jaw dropped. No fucking way he just said that. Tim shakes his head.

"No, of course not! We had to do a poster!" He states, he doesn't bother with the sign language, the man didn't seem to be deaf judging by the scar on his throat.

The man points to the door before signing.

"You better go right now before my wife punishes you! As it is my child is in trouble!"

Tim, not wanting to cause a fight or scandal, walks to the door and leaves. He wonders how your father is going to "punish you", clearly you had to have been spoiled by someone to end up so rude - even if you were fun to hang out with for those hours.

Tim gets to the front of the apartment and gets into the car waiting for him. One thought was one his mind however:

Are you as bad as they all assumed you to be?

----

You wake up the next day to your dad and mother standing above you angrily. Not a good way to start the day and you had to sort out your red eyes before people asked if you'd been crying.

Heading to school was as uneventful as Gotham gets and when you get to the front gate you realize your two friends aren't at school today. Great. Your day is the best!

You debate sneaking back home and going on a day patrol, maybe running into Signal, though you hope not. He's nice and all but he along with the other Batman lackeys and Batman himself give you bad vibes, they set off your spider senses and cause you to feel icky when in their presence.

Before you can make a decision you hear your name being called out and Tim walking up to you with a serious expression. You think you're going to barf - now that you think about it, Tim gives you the same reaction Red Robin gives you - a feeling of anger and motion sickness.

Each vigilante gives a different type of icky feeling so it's crazy you haven't noticed Tim giving you the same feeling.

It's not your business though so you won't think about it further.

"Did you bring the poster?" He asks, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks to you in slight annoyance. "Duh. It's in my bag." You respond, rolling your eyes and handing him the poster.

He hums and puts it in his bag and you raise a brow. You won't question why he did it, probably just wanted the credit of handing it in.

With that you head to your first class of the day: Engineering.

[holylulusworld]

Compensation (1)

Summary: No one messes with Walter Marshall.

Pairing: Mobster!Walter Marshall x fem!Reader

Warning: angst, mentions of being attacked/attempted sexual assault, mentions of violence against the reader (not Walter), scared reader, blood, gore, implied character's death, injured reader

He’s a gruff man, tall and bulgy. His expression is unreadable, but there is a hint of anger in his eyes when he roams your body. He crosses his thick and strong arms over his wide chest, making him look even bigger.

“Do you know why you are here?”

He cocks his head and looks you up and down. You must look ridiculous in your worn-out shirt, bleached jeans, and old sneakers. Usually, you wear a maid's uniform and try to stay invisible. Walter Marshall is not the kind of man whose attention you want to draw toward you.

“Y-ou wanted to see me, Sir, Mr. Marshall,” you murmur, afraid to speak louder in his presence. He’s an intimidating sight. His curly neck-length hair makes him look a little softer, but you know, he’s far from being a soft teddy bear. “Miss Chase told me so.”

“Hmm…” He nods thoughtfully and uncrosses his arms. He steps toward you, forcing you to back paddle because his size is even scarier up close. “You’re the maid causing trouble.”

You move your hand to your throat, touching the bruises one of the guests left. Walter follows the motion, and you drop your hand to your arm, only to wince again.

“Take off your shirt and pants,” he casually says. His eyes glued to your face. “You will soon find out that I do not like repeating myself. Shirt and pants off.”

You whimper. This is the worst-case scenario. If only you shut your mouth and forgot about your attacker. Now you’re in trouble even though, it was not your fault the man believed he could have everything inside his hotel room. Including you.

Eyes dropping to the ground you kick your old sneakers off. You unbutton your jeans and shove them down your legs. Walter follows your every move. You slowly take your shirt off, dropping it on the ground. Your arms wrap around your trembling form out of instinct when Walter steps closer.

“Hmmm…” he moves his large hand to your throat, carefully touching the bruises. He moves his hands to your bruised arms, before dropping them. Walter circles you and suddenly jerks his head toward Rachel. “I want you to inspect her thighs and ankle.”

He points at your bandaged foot.

“Yes, boss,” she says and hurriedly moves toward you to slide her hand over the bruises the man left on your thighs. She crouches down in front of you, touching your ankle. You yelp, and whimper in pain.

“That will be all, Rachel,” Walter grunts. He points at your clothes and sneers. “Take this with you. Bring it to the room.”

Your eyes fill with unshed tears. You try to not cry, knowing this will be the last day of your life. “Yes, boss.” She grabs your clothes and hurriedly walks out of the room.

“Doctor, take care of her ankle. Susan, get her new clothes. Something comfortable,” Walter barks orders at his employees while you're standing there, frozen to the spot. You don’t know what’s going on but having Walter Marshall’s attention can’t be good.

While Susan, a woman you never saw before flits out of the room, another woman, steps toward you. She asks you to sit on the sofa and helps you lift your leg onto the couch.

You clamp your lips shut when the doctor removes the bandage to examine your foot. She tries to be careful, but it hurts, nonetheless. “Definitely sprained. She needs a rest; ice and I’ll prescribe painkillers.”

“Doctor,” Walter nods at the doctor. “Susan, what do you have for me?” He sighs when Susan carries two dresses inside the room. “Susan, I said comfortable, not—” He points at the dresses and huffs, “this…whatever it is.”

“I thought…you like your women in sexy clothes,” Susan stammers, fear written all over her face.

“You’re dismissed for today,” Walter waves the woman off. He looks at you sitting on the couch for a second before he takes off his warm and comfortable knit sweater, leaving him in his white undershirt. “Here put this on.”

Your eyes round watching Walter step toward the couch. He sighs as you simply stare at the fabric in his hands.

“Fine, let me do it.” You whimper again when he helps you put the sweater on. He hums when you look at him with teary eyes. “I need you to tell me what happened two days ago, at that hotel room in my casino.”

You nod and cringe as another painful noise leaves your lips. The doctor started to bandage your foot while you stared up at Walter.

“I was making my round like every night. Chanel called in sick, and I had to handle more rooms. The last room left was 128,” you sniff, and look away. “I believed the room was empty, but I knocked to be sure. No one answered, so I entered the room and started cleaning. I had to change the sheets. They were dirty. I fluffed the pillows, refilled the mini-bar, and wanted to start to vacuum the carpet when the guest suddenly emerged from the bathroom.”

“He shouldn’t have been there,” Walter rubs his beard. “If you hear the chambermaid knocking, or entering your room, you let them know you’re there.”

“I apologized, and asked if he wants me to leave,” you choked on your words. “He smirked and stepped closer. I stepped away because he was only wearing a towel.”

Walter squares his jaw when you tell him that the man grabbed you by your arms and forced you on the bed. “I can’t…please…”

You shake your head, refusing to tell Walter more. “How did you…escape?” He questions, and you fear all he’s interested in is to make things up to his wealthy guess.”

“He had his hand around my throat, and I tried to fend him off. I grabbed the lamp and hit him,” you sniffle. “He tried to…” You whimper. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, but he wanted to hurt me.”

“You broke the lamp,” Walter grins when you look at him with wide, fearful eyes. “Thank you for it. It was one ugly lamp. My ex chose them. Now, I have a reason to replace them all.”

“What? I…” You don’t know how to react. “I can pay for the lamp.”

The usually broody man laughs at your words. “I want you to let the doctor fix your ankle. After she fixed it, you’ll come with me.”

You nod. What else can you do? He’s your boss and one of the most dangerous men walking on this Earth. For the public eye, he’s a successful businessman, owning a casino, clubs, and several restaurants. In secret, he’s the head of the local mob.  

“Mr. Jacobs,” Walter waltzes inside the room, still in only his white undershirt. He guides you inside the room, smirking as your eyes land on the man restrained to a chair.

It’s the guest attacking you. He looks like someone put him through the wringer. The man is slumped in the chair. His eyes are swollen, and his nose looks like it’s broken.

Blood covers his bare upper body. Someone carved a sign you've never seen before into his chest. He coughs heavily, as he looks in Walter’s direction. The man can barely see anything but tries to show respect to Walter.

“Sorry for the wait,” Walter smirks darkly at the man.

“I’m sorry…” the man begs. “Sorry…so sorry.”

“You see,” Walter says and wraps his thick arm around your shoulders. “You came to my town and touched one of my best employees. If you wanted a whore to suck your cock, you call the service. We have ladies waiting at the bar to be at your service.”

“Sorry…” the man babbles again. “Sorry, Mr. Marshall.”

“You are not forgiven,” Walter growls. “No man touches a woman in my town against her will. Especially not under my roof, you piece of shit.”

The man only whimpers. Avoiding looking at the man you drop your gaze only to see more blood on the ground, along with three teeth.

“He’ll never hurt you again, Princess,” Walter murmurs in your ear. “He dared to sniff around your apartment too. Can you believe that bastard? He comes to my town and dares to touch what’s mine!”

You don’t know if Walter punished the man attacking you because he hurt you or for his ego. All you want is to forget about what happened and curl into a ball on your bed. Maybe hide from the world for a while, or like ever.

“My men found him in your bedroom. He dared to touch your underwear,” your boss yells at the man. “What do you want me to do to him? Name it, and I’ll do it.”

“I want to go home,” you murmur. “Please.”

“Princess, this man was in your home. He touched all of your things. You cannot go home. Who knows what he did? I want you to stay in the room I prepared for you. The doctor wants to check on you later too. No discussion.”

Clamping your mouth shut again, you nod. He doesn’t give you a choice. Men like Walter Marshall never do. He’s used to ordering people around. If you want to keep your job, you’ll just follow his order and get through this. You survived worse.

“Get rid of the leftovers,” Walter casually orders the death of your attacker. He guides you out of the room, murmuring your name as you are too scared and confused even to think. Why would a man like him kill someone for you?

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[jyoongim]

HIHIHIH OMG ILYSMMM UR WOEK IS AMAZING!!!

SOOOOOO i have a few req idwas!!

idea 1: reader is lucifers s/o and finds out luci is cheating on them so for payback they hook up w alastor luci may or may not find out up to you!

idea 2: reader is alastors s/o and they are at readers parents house (theyre also in hell) and reader goes to ask their dad sum like "hey daddy..." and her dad and alastor both respond....

JUST A FEW IDEAS I HAD FOR AWHILE BTW IDK IF I DID THIS RIGHT THIS WAS MY FIRST REQ..

You did a wonderful job! Thank you for the request! i did the 2nd idea! I thought it was funny hehehe

Your parents had invited you and Alastor to Sunday dinner. Funny thing that the most church-loving couple ended up in Hell. They never broke tradition even down here.

“Ooh honey we are so happy you two could join us” Your mother chirped, beaming as you hand her the bouquet of flowers you had picked up and pulled you into a hug. 

“Its always a pleasure to get a chance to eat your fine cookin maam” Alastor smiled as his mother in law gave him a squeeze, letting y’all inside and heading towards the dining room.

Your mother talked about the latest gossip she had heard, hissing murderously at the mention of Susan joining her book club.

”Oh can you believe that hag? Just can’t let me have nothin”

“I told ya momma if she hate the woman so much why not just smoke ‘er, but nope she too sweet.” Your father’s deep brawl met your ears as you entered the living room.

He smiled at you, pulling you into a bear hug as he kissed your forehead “Ooh there’s my princess” he said affectionately making you giggle. He straightened up, turning to Alastor, he gave a smile

”Aaah how are you doing my boy? heard you were managing a fancy hotel! Me and the Mrs should come check y’all out sometimes.” 

They shook hands and you slipped away to help your mother get dinner.

And what a dinner indeed.

Dinner was filled with chatter as the two parties caught up with each other. 

Everything was wonderful.

“Daddy can you pass me the pitcher of lemonade please?” you asked as you realized you had a empty glass.

“Why of course”

”Sure thing”

two voices said, making you tense and look up with wide eyes.

Your father and Alastor were now looking at each other as both had reached out to grab the pitcher.

Alastor ears were perked as he gave your father a sharp smile, slowly retracting his hand as he chuckled.

Your father however had a frown on his face and his lips pulled into a snarl, eyes narrowing.

You wanted to be swallowed up by the floor.

Your father’s eyes cut to you, making your cheeks burn as you looked away, embarrassed.

“You wanna tell me why he responded to that? You know what i already have an inkling. Alastor meet me out back” your father growled standing up, making a move to grab his shotgun.

”There’s no need for that!” You whined, standing up to block your father from Alastor.

”Sir i assure you that isn’t half of what she calls me” the red demon chuckled darkly, making the older demon rush at him. 

Alastor disappeared in a shrew of shadows, taking you with him.

”Dinner was lovely as always Madam” he kissed your mother’s cheek, disappearing as the sound of a shot rang out.

”Well dinner was rather eventual” he smirked, you facepalmed

”i am never going home again. How will i face them again after that?” You whine. Alastor kissed your cheek

”Dear you’ve called me worst, I’m sure hell forget about it”

———————————————————————————-

“Um guys why is there a demon with a shotgun shouting outside the hotel?” Charlie asked.

You groaned, glaring at Alastor

[hippielittlemetalhead]

So... I lied about getting a full fix-it to This → Part 1. Y'all get parts focusing on different characters for now as Hop traverses his guilt trip. I won't say it gets worse before it gets better but... kinda in places? I promise it's a happy ending though!!

What do you want from me I'm stressed and depressed and I like making my blorbos suffer (a.k.a projecting my trauma instead of doing the healthy shit my shrink tells me to)

You've been warned... But I do hope you like it.

So here we have Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce Edition)

He goes to Joyce about it first. Thinks about her gentle herding of the trio that has become the Hopper-Byers brood. Thinks about how she put everything he was feeling about Mike and El and their giggling and the fucking door into words that kept him from looking like an imbecile (if he'd have ever used them instead of fucking it up 'winging it'). Thinks about the way her voice stays soft and kind of quiet even when she's spitting in his face about listening to her (and every time she's been right) and how that's translated to talking down government goons and wrangling the army of children that seems to get bigger each time they have to fight interdimensional terrors. So he goes to Joyce about what Murray said, the noise Steve made with That Look in his eyes and his bandages peeking out from under a shirt that looks like one of the Henleys he's been missing since coming 'back from the dead' and they dug out his clothes from storage. (El wouldn't let her throw anything out, not until she was ready to say goodbye. Thank whatever god[s] there may be she never needed to)

He doesn't expect Joyce to make a face like he suggested inviting Owens to family dinner. He doesn't expect the scoff and eye roll as her shoulders tense and her hands flex at her sides like she's about to let loose her (honestly really attractive) righteous fury. About the Harrington kid.

Maybe he should have asked when the kids weren't home. Before El quietly told them the bullying wasn't as bad as it was in California but some people still made fun of how she spoke and how all of her friends were boys (and just as quietly asked they not do anything. Asked that they let her and The Party handle it until they couldn't). Before Will came home sulking about something idiotic Mike said or did or something the kid missed (though lately the latest Wheeler mistake is followed by bashful mention of the Emerson kid doing something specifically to make Will feel better in the moment). Before Jonathan came home from 'job hunting' or 'volunteering at the school's relief center' reeking of weed and his long-haired friend in tow (less than usual but still enough to make Joyce feel guilty for missing it for so long, for making the boy grow up so fast that he spends his days out of his mind instead of the weekend bender like when they were kids). Before The Party had come by with what homework the school was still giving out and talking over each other about all the latest small-town gossip a teenager can get their hands on (Eddie's name has been cleared but he's still laid up at the hospital. Susan Mayfield has been noticeably absent according to every nosy housewife in Hawkins considering her daughter is in a coma. The Hagans, Carvers, Perkins and a handful of other 'well to do' families have skipped town taking most of the sports population with them. Steve has been letting people displaced by the damage crash at the Harrington mansion. Steve has kept up hours at Family Video somehow and is a regular volunteer at the various relief centers in town. Steve has been giving all of them rides and may have told Dustin he's thinking of trading in the Beemer for a bigger vehicle for all the kids and people he chauffeurs about. Steve keeps a room empty and waiting for when Max wakes up before her mother makes an appearance. Steve. Steve. Steve.)

He doesn't expect the way she spits his name like she's talking about Dick and Margaret under the bleachers over a smoke before the yard teacher catches them. The rant about bullies and broken cameras and trashed kitchens and dead monsters in her fridge. The crack in her voice when she crosses her arms to stop their shaking as she lays sin upon sin at this boy's feet.

And maybe before that would have been enough.

He doesn't expect the stone in his stomach or the burning in his chest as he looks the woman he loves in the eye and says "So I guess we should tell Nancy to break up with Jonathan before he pulls a Lonnie, huh?" It's a low blow. He knows from the hurt anger on her face and on the purse of her lips. He knows that's why he said it. "That kid is lucky to be alive let alone walking and have we ever even thanked him for keeping the fucking kids alive each time they pull their dumb shit when the world goes to hell? Does that sound like anything his folks would have ever done for us? Hell for their own fucking kid they practically signed over to ME of all people?"

He's shaking now too and Joyce has her hands fluttering between them like she wants to reach out. To touch, comfort. Pull him close and tell him to take a breath.

"He called me 'His Hop', Joyce" He barely has enough breath on him to squeeze the words past his tight throat. "Called me His Hop and watched Ellie and the kids when I just couldn't and you were at work. I don't think I've seen his folks in town since the mall was opened and all the donors had that big party. Don't think I've spoken to them since '83 and they made me the kid's guardian when they aren't around cause they didn't want to fly down for a government sized concussion."

By now he knows El and Will are peeking around the corner, their eyes wide and worried. Jonathan has his door cracked and Angus (is that the hippie's name? He can't remember) is whispering something about heavy auras. Joyce is staring somewhere off in the distance, wringing her hands and biting her lips like she's facing an interdimensional portal shaped problem.

"The kids are planning to have one of their games in a few days." Her voice is brittle in a way he's not used to anymore. Not since she pulled her youngest out of hell and faced down a demon clawing through her walls. "He always drives them over and- and disappears until they need to head home. I can make sure he stays for dinner. Like the rest of the kids. I know Claudia has been having him over so I- I can get some recipes from her that he likes."

Something in his shoulders shakes loose and he reaches out to pull her practically shaking from into his chest.

"I don't know what to say to him Hop. He's not Mike and he's not like either of my boys. In my head he's just always been..."

"Dick and Margaret's brat." He sighs out and rests his cheek on the top of her head as she nods and presses herself in closer.

He's aware of eyes on them. Confused and worried and judgemental and he'll pay that piper next. These kids taught him how to be a dad again once, they can do it again, right?

Part 3

Part 4.1

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth

Part 4.2

Part 5

If I missed you in the tag list I'm sorry I tried 🙃🫡 Tell me what you think? 🫣🥲

[ckret2]

I'm not sure this is where the story is going (probably not ngl) but imagine Bill and Ford getting together at the end and having to explain that to the family.

Yeah, billford is eventually happening lmao. I'm choosing to play on hard mode (NO prior relationship, crush, or attraction), so the first time I was asked about it, I wasn't sure whether I'd find a route to pull it off. But by a few months later I'd figured it out. We need to achieve four goals to make it work:

a reason for Ford to stop fearing Bill

a reason for Ford to stop hating Bill

a reason for Ford to like Bill

a reason for Ford to WANT to stop hating Bill

(Bill needs nothing, he's easier to persuade, he didn't spend half his life constructing an identity around hating Ford.)

Goal #3 is easy, Ford has plenty of reasons he COULD like Bill if Bill weren't terrible. Goal #1 was chapter 46. Goal #4 is actively in progress. We'll get to #2 eventually.

Anyway, how the family reacts depends on how & if they find out, but imo the funniest possibility is—

Listen. Lazy Susan, Carla "Hotpants" McCorkle, and Darlene. Stan's into big butts and big loose long hair, and weird/inhuman eyes aren't a dealbreaker. Canon backs me up.

This would never get mentioned again.

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 005 (PART 1)

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[7.3k] Early morning arrests and break ups, one member of the pogues goes rogue and gets into a world of trouble.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, forced drug use, abduction, mentions of physical violence, mention of non-con/sexual assault, disorientation

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ Good doesn't come without bad :/ I'M SORRY also THIS CHAPTER IS SM BETTER W THE SONG TRUST ME

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“BETWEEN YESTERDAY AFTERNOON AND EARLY THIS MORNING, OUR KILDARE COUNTY POLICE DEPARTMENT CARRIED OUT SEVERAL ARRESTS IN THE MURDER CASES OF SUSAN PETERKIN, GAVIN BARNSTEAD, BIG JOHN ROUTLEDGE, AND OWEN CARTER.” Shoupe’s voice traveled from the small speaker of your phone. You were watching the local news — you, JJ, John B, Pope, and Kiara all sitting out on the pier behind The Chateau. It was still early, the sun just settling in the sky, providing a comforting warmth over the five of you.

JJ was laid outstretched on on the boat, head buried in his arms while Pope stood with his hands in his pockets. Kiara was kicking her feet, sitting on the wood of the dock as you and JB stood side by side, eyes glued to the phone screen as Shoupe continued giving his statement. “...The individuals in custody are our department pathologist Mark Daniels, officer Shane Graves, local attorney Rebecca Reyes, and Rafe Cameron.” Shoupe explained, swallowing harshly. “Unfortunately, our prime suspect, Ward Cameron was the victim of an explosion late yesterday afternoon. The other trials will take place in the following weeks, more updates are to come. Thank you for your time.” And then he was walking away from the podium swiftly, head down as chatter erupted and cameras flashed, the program cutting back to it’s anchor.

You sighed, powering off the phone and sliding it into your back pocket. 

“...He deserved it, right?” JJ asked, lifting his head from his arms and squinting his eyes from the harsh sun.

“Of course he deserved it.” Pope added, sitting down on the boat.”I’ve just...never seen anyone blow themselves up like that.”

“Cross that one off the bucket list.” The blonde shrugged, laying his head back down.

“Dude.” Pope said sternly, shooting JJ a look of warning as Kiara rounded the dock and sat herself next to John B who’d taken a seat inside.

Planting a gentle hand on his back, she spoke to him softly. “Are you okay?”

John B fiddled with his fingers in his lap, biting his lip. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

POPE WALKED IN JUST AS YOU’D SLIPPED YOUR OTHER SHOE ON AND STOOD FROM THE SOFA, the boy stopping in his tracks.

“Where are you going?” He asked casually, resuming his slow steps plopping himself down on the sofa.

“Hopefully to get my dog back.” You said, patting your pockets to make sure you had everything. With the announcement of Rafe's arrest, you figured it was as good a time as any.

“...And you were just going to leave without telling anyone?” He asked, sitting up straighter, becoming increasingly more concerned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t think JJ would agree with it either-”

“What does he have to do with anything?” You cut him off, your eyebrows set into a straight line.

“C’mon,” Pope sassed, standing from the couch. “It’s literally so obvious. It’s been obvious.” He said cooly. “Like, everyone knew he liked you before but now it’s clear you two have something going on. And you know how he is. He cares about you. A lot. You don’t wanna make him worry, do you?”

You wanted to tell him so badly. You felt like he needed to know why JJ wasn’t a priority right now. But you knew doing it would break Pope’s heart. Pope was in love with Kiara. And he deserved to know the truth, but you telling him out of spite wasn’t the best way to go through it.

“...Look, Pope.” You sighed, letting your shoulders fall. “Me and JJ aren’t on the best terms right now and I don’t want to be around him and I definitely don’t want his help. I know what I’m doing.” You assured, looking the boy in his eyes. “Okay? I’ll be fine, I promise.”

He seemed to sway on his feet, fighting with what to do in his head. “At least let me come with you. You can’t go alone-”

You immediately shook your head, putting your hands in front of you. “No, no. I don’t want you anywhere near Barry or Rafe without at least an army behind you.”

“But what about you?”

“...I’ve dealt with them before.” You affirmed, tensing your jaw.

Pope sighed in defeat, running a hand down his face. “Well, Rafe’s in jail but I doubt he’ll be in there long before he’s bailed out so you should be up against just Barry.” He pondered, turning to you and squinting his eyes. “...Fine. But if I call or text and I don’t get an answer, I’m telling JJ and everyone else. Deal?” He held out his hand.

The amount of care Pope had for your safety was sweet. So sweet it put a small, sheepish smile on your face. Connecting your hand with his, you shook it. “Deal.”

YOU SLOWED IN YOUR STEPS SOME FEET AWAY FROM THE SECLUDED TRAILER, wanting to minimize the chances of Barry seeing or hearing you before you even got to the door. The closer you got, the worse it smelled. You’d almost forgotten how the stench of weed and bonfire smoke stung your nostrils. Or how the overgrown grass scratched at your exposed legs, irritating the skin.

Your eyes immediately spotted a singular, metallic dog bowl — the inside smeared with what looked like canned meat. You felt sorrow and relief all at once. On the bright side, at least Marley was here. Or here at some point.

“Lookin’ for that mutt?” A familiar raspy voice sounded out. You whipped your head to the side to find Barry standing the doorway of his trailer. He startled you for a moment but the fear quickly diminished. After all, Barry rarely ever left the comfort of his trailer. He was dressed in a dirty wifebeater and shorts, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

“Where is she?” You asked, a hard expression on your face.

He simply drew his lips into a thin line, his eyebrows raising as he shrugged carelessly. “I ain’t got a damn clue.” He chuckled, shifting his weight against the frame and licking his lips. “Why don’t you ask Country Club?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “He’s in a cell. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. Not alone, anyway.” You explained. “What, you don’t watch the news or something? Figured you’d keep tabs on your partner in crime.”

Barry just stood there smiling. Smiling weirdly. It made your stomach turn. You were never scared of Barry but he never failed to give you the creeps. “Trust me, I keep tabs.” He chuckled, strutting down the small staircase that led up to the door of his trailer. “You shoulda kept your ass away from here, Snoozie.” He told you, waving a finger in your direction, a mischievous expression on his face.

“...What is that supposed to mean?” You asked, pinching your eyebrows together.

“It means…whatever happens now is on you.” He smiled when suddenly, you felt two hands wrap around you and pull you into a body. One arm was on your neck, right under your chin as the other held your torso against the assailants. You could hear breathing in your ear — somewhere between heaving and chuckling as your body froze before trying to fight the person off to no avail.

“Hey, calm down,” You knew that voice.

It was the voice of someone who wasn’t supposed to be here.

“...Get off of me.” You warned, but it came out as more of a weak whisper.

You didn’t think you were afraid of Rafe anymore. But the feeling of his hands on your body, the force he was using to hold you in place, his warm breath against your neck — it all made you feel disgusting.

It made you feel like you were in the back of his truck all over again.

“Yeahhh…I can’t do that.” He laughed, walking you closer to Barry, his grip never loosening. “We’ll let you and your annoying ass dog go but, see, you walked into our domain? Alright, so…that means, we get to have our fun with you, first.” He whispered into your ear.

You watched helplessly as Barry pulled a plastic bag filled with a white, powdery substance from his pocket — scooping a decent amount onto the tip of his pinky before walking closer to you. "This for you and your friends stealin' my fuckin' money."

You began to dry heave, frantically shaking your head from side to side as he lifted the drugs to your nose. You jerked and jumped in Rafe’s hold, trying to do anything to get him to either let you go and disable Barry from drugging you.

“Hold her head still, Rafe.”

“Alright…” The Cameron boy groaned, carefully maneuvering the arm on your neck so that he quickly grasp your jaw, the strong hold causing an immediate ache as he held your head in place. 

“There we go…” Barry drawled on, shoving his pinky so far up your nose that it hurt, triggering you to cough vehemently but ultimately sniff the substance. “Aight, she should be out soon. Take her inside, my neighbors are nosy as shit...”

Rafe released your jaw as you coughed. Your whole chest hurt and your nostrils stung and tingled, the sensation traveling from the bridge of your nose and to your brain — the feeling somewhere in between a migraine and a brain freeze. When your coughing died down, your head began to feel light. As light as a feather on your shoulders. 

Their voices became inaudible in your ears, fading in and out. You tried to fight Rafe once more but you couldn’t feel your arms, or your legs for that matter.

The last thing you remember before the trees turned to blobs was Rafe carrying your body inside the trailer.

WHEN YOU OPENED YOUR EYES AGAIN, you didn’t know how much time had gone by. Minutes, hours…

Everything felt so heavy. Your eyelids were half close as that was as high as you could hold them. Your head rolled on your shoulders, gently swaying from side to side because holding it straight didn’t seem to be in your list of capabilities at the moment. Your lips felt permanently parted, not enough muscle strength to push them together and keep them there.

Looking around slowly, everything had a trail behind it. Everytime you turned, the object in your vision would leave behind a trail, like smeared paint. You didn't even know where you were, in all honesty. The kitchen? You looked up, letting your eyes settle before you realized what you were looking at — your hands. They were tied to a pole. A rack, of sorts.

You couldn’t even feel it. You tugged and tugged, at least you thought you were. But it didn’t look like your hands were moving.

“You awake now?” A voice echoed in your ears. You lowered your gaze to a find a figure in front of you.

Rafe, you concluded once your vision settled. 

You swallowed and you could feel that, a little bit too much. It felt like you were swallowing rocks. What did Barry give you? “...Can you untie me?” You spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe said, his voice sounding weird in your ears. He crouched down in front of you, his eyes boring into yours. He looked so much scarier. “...What was that? You’re mumbling, sunshine.”

You swallowed again, the action causing you to blink harshly - the smear of colors hurting you vision when you opened your eyes again. “...Can you untie me?” You mumbled once more, but you didn’t know you were mumbling. In your ears, you could hear your voice so clear. It was so loud and it echoed, like yelling down an empty hall — every sounded bounced off the walls.

Rafe just stared at you. It looked like he was thinking before he shrugged lightly, shifting closer to you and reaching above your head where your hands were bound. “You’re too weak to go anywhere anyway…can’t do anything…might as well.”

You felt your arms float to the floor as Rafe held the rope in his hands, examining it before tossing it to the side. His gaze returned to you, analyzing your face as if he’d never seen it before. His blue scanned over you in your entirety, drinking you in with his eyes. It felt like he was staring straight into your soul, taking every part of it for himself. He was your focal point, everything else behind him fading into a mess of colors. 

Even in your altered state of consciousness, your body still found the strength to flinch when his hand reached out to touch your face, his fingers leaving a fiery trail in their wake. “...You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispered, his voice sounding ghostly in your ears. “I just want you to let me love you. And you won’t…” His words made you ill. So ill that you were sure that your stomach audibly turned. “I never…meant to hurt you. But you just made it so hard.”

You could see the tears welling in his eyes and the redness blooming on his nose. He was…crying. Or trying not to. You couldn’t clearly tell. “And then you told everyone that I..raped you.” He choked out, threading his fingers through your hair as you tried to move away from his touch, the sound of his digits scraping against your roots making your body recoil. “We both wanted it. You were just too ashamed to admit it. You thought it was wrong, that we were wrong. You were fighting me, I'll admit…but you wanted it.”

You shook your head, bile rising in your throat. “...Didn’t.” You choked out, throwing your head back against the wall. “I didn’t…want it.” You breathed. “And I…don’t…love you.” You struggled to form fluent sentences, your words slurring in on each other even with the long pauses in between nearly each word. “You and your family…took everything f-...from me.” Talking was as hard as hiking up the steepest hill in the world. “I just want my dog back. Can’t you j-...just give her to me?”

“Jesus- forget the fucking dog!” Rafe screamed, kicking a nearby object. You couldn’t see what it was. His hands gripped his hair at the roots, the boy pacing back and forth in front of you before crouching down in front of you once more, closer this time. “This is about us — me and you. I am in love with you. So, why is it…that you can’t love me back? You led me on. You made me like this-”

“No, I didn’t.” You cried, head thrown back as you looked up at the ceiling, tears running from your eyes, the droplets tickling your cheeks. “You made…me like this.” You said tearfully, a cough following the statement. “I was fifteen. I didn’t know…any better. But you did.” You wailed, lowering your head to look at him, although your head still swayed. “And when I did…know better, you didn’t w-want to let me go. And it doesn’t even matter…” You almost laughed through your tears. “Because your dad…ruined my life months before we even met.”

Rafe was quick to wrap his hand around your neck after that, squeezing harshly. He edged his face closer to yours, the tips of his hair tickling your forehead as stars invaded your vision, or what remained of it. “My dad? Did what he had to do. Alright? He’s not a monster.”

“...Neither was mine.” You croaked out. Rafe looked between your eyes with an expression you couldn’t place. Sadness? Anger? Whatever it was, he felt enough of it to release his grip, you taking the biggest gulp of air possible, your hair falling in front of your face as you held it down weakly.

He stood up from his crouching position in front of you. You heard him pace around once more as you caught your breath, each intake feeling like you were breathing in the coldest air ever, before you cried out in pain, the sound hurting your ears. Rafe had grabbed a fistful of your hair, using it to pull you up, but you could barely stand so the angry boy used his other hand to grip your upper arm for support. Using the hold he had on you, he drug your limp frame into the small living area, throwing you onto Barry’s tattered sofa.

…Where was Barry?

You landed on your side, rolling over onto your back. The whole room was spinning again, the quickness of his actions not allowing your brain to catch up with the swift movements. “I try to do the right thing and no one ever cares. My dad and Sarah, even Rose…they blame me for everything.” He ranted and rambled, his hands balled into fists by his sides as he looked down at you. “I thought you were different.” He said through labored breaths. Him standing above you, face red and furious, you would've sworn he was the devil himself. “But you’re just as bad as the rest of them. But I can change that…” He nodded, climbing on top of you, straddling your motionless body.

All you could do was look at him through the strands of hair that cloud your vision. You let out a ‘hmph’ as he let his weight rest on your thighs. “I can’t change their minds. I can’t fix them.” He said, his hands trailing the hem of your bottoms before unbuttoning them. “...But I can fix you.” He breathed, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he nodded to himself. “I can make you love me.”

Before you knew it, the sound of him dragging the zipper of your fly rang out in your ears - the familiar situation triggering a series of images to flash in your mind. Images of the first time. You felt the puddles of hot tears leaving your eyes as your throat ached to say something. “Please, stop…” You cried, throwing your head side to side as your weak hands tried to push his away. “Please, don’t do this again.” You stuttered, your nimble fingers clawing at his knuckles as he struggled to drag your bottoms down your legs.

You felt like God himself came down from Heaven when a harsh light filled the trailer, the door of the mobile home opening as Barry entered, taking in the scene in front of him. You quickly registered that it was actually moonlight blinding you so viciously, the brightness fading behind Barry’s figure to reveal the eerie darkness outside.

How long had you been here?

“Aye, what the fuck? Rafe!” Barry said disgusted, slamming the door shut behind him. “Get the fuck off her, man. Don’t do that shit in my crib.” He told him, throwing a hand out in his direction. Rafe sighed, getting off of you and aggressively dragging your pants back up your legs, but he didn’t bother to button them back. You laid on the couch, sobbing silently. You didn’t know if it was out of fear or relief. “That’s why yo ass put me on paw patrol? So you could fuck the doped up girl in my damn house?”

Rafe made a face of annoyance, rolling his eyes at the drug dealer’s words. “Did you do it?”

“Uh, yeah, I did it, dumbass.” Barry said, voice full of attitude. “I just let her go in the backyard, it sounded like they were all inside. I saw one of the dudes come out and take her inside before I dipped.” He explained, grabbing a half-drunken beer from his cluttered coffee table. “Why you have me take the dog back if she still here? Y’know they gon come lookin’ for her eventually…” He threw out, the rim of the beer bottle touching his lips before he took a big sip.

“Just had to leave a little hint behind.” Rafe told Barry, sitting on the couch next to your feet as you turned to your side, groaning. He made a line out of the loose coke on the coffee table before quickly snorting it. A large exhale leaving his lungs as he let it pass through him. “It’s fun to fuck with ‘em, dude.”

“I ain’t with these games and shit.” Barry complained, walking to the back of his trailer. You were still laid out on the couch, sobbing silently. “If they come by here and fuck up my shit, it’s comin’ outta your pocket, Country Club.” He said. “And give her another hit!” He called from the back. “All that cryin’ and shit is givin’ me a headache. Damn…”

Rafe rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath before searching around the table before picking up the plastic bag Barry had before. You figured whatever they were putting you out with wasn’t cocaine. And that’s what scared you the most when Rafe snatched you up and shoved another pinky-full up your nose, letting your drowsy frame fall back into the plushness of the sofa.

“JJ…BACK IN THE VAN!” What sounded like John B’s voice filled your ears. Your eyes cracked open little by little, your vision much more clear and less distorted than the last time you recall waking up. So many voices were speaking at once. Your eyes wandered, trying to find out who was talking to who. It was then you realized the entire world was sideways and you were inside of The Twinkie.

Your head was slightly more elevated than the rest of your body, causing you to turn and peer above you where you found Sarah’s wide eyes staring down at you, finally registering the feeling on her fingers running through your hair. Her eyes were slightly red and glossed over as she peered down at you.

You felt more conscious this time around — no paint smears, no muffled voices, and you felt like you had more control over your body. You were cold, so cold. Probably shivering.

Looking over, you found that the door of the van was open. You could see a group of people crowded in on each other. When your vision focused, you realized it your four other friends and they were surrounding Rafe and Barry.

“What is wrong with you?!” That was Kie’s voice. And you knew her well enough to hear the anger in voice. “What the hell do you want, huh? You should be in jail, you sick motherfucker!”  It wasn’t long before the guys pushed her to the back of the circle, the girl yelling at Rafe through the blockade they’d formed in front of her.

“You Kooks think you can do whatever the fuck you want!” JJ shouted, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it before. It was almost unrecognizable. “You wanna end up like your father? ‘Cause we can make it happen!-”

“The fuck’d you just say to me, you little shit?” Rafe countered, stepping closer to JJ as John B and Pope stepped closer to him.

“You heard me, bitch.” JJ spat, the small accent he had showing itself as he pushed his way through his two friends to stand toe-to-toe with Rafe.

“All y’all needa get the fuck off my property.” Barry added, standing beside Rafe, but his words went ignored.

“If you wanna do this, we can do it. ‘Cause I’ve been waiting to get my fuckin’ hands on you.” JJ warned. “You like to drug girls? Rape them? Hit them? Hit me. Hit me, you pussy-” Just then, Rafe clocked JJ in his jaw, the force and sound of the assault causing you to flinch in Sarah’s lap as John B and Pope caught their friend, Kie gasping behind them. You tried to sit up as you watched JJ’s head whip to the side, but Sarah was quick to force your weak frame back down.

You looked up at her with wide, glassy eyes. “Rafe’s gonna hurt him.” You said weakly, sounding like a scared child.

The blonde girl simply shook her head side to side. “I don’t think so.” She smiled weakly before looking back out at the brawl unfolding outside of the vehicle. “Not this time.”

Your own eyes refocused on the two guys just as JJ recovered from the blow, wasting no time in lunging at Rafe and sending the boy to the ground, allowing himself to deliver blow after blow. You couldn’t tell if he was landing them, you could only see one arm go up after the other, his fists coming down in a vicious frenzy. 

Kiara was calling JJ’s name as Barry shook his head and backed up,n John B and Pope watching with their hands up. “Y’all gon’ have the cops pokin’ around here...” Barry said angrily, eyes on John B and Pope who stood by helplessly, shocked. “Get this shit under control, I don’t need them people on my radar!” The drug dealer urged, the commotion sure to disturb any nearby trailer owners.

John B and Pope looked at each other before John B peered back at you, an expression of sadness in his eyes.

Oh. You forgot…he didn’t know. 

So, it wasn’t long before that sadness turned to anger as he turned back to Barry. “...We’ll leave when he’s done.” John B spat, referring to the two boys brawling in the grass before walking away and rounding the vehicle to get in the driver’s seat, Pope and Kie following and climbing into the back of the van quickly. Without those three blocking your field of view, you could clearly see the two boys now.

Rafe had managed to pick himself up but surprisingly, JJ still had the upper hand. But it was still a brutal brawl between the two, one not staying on top for long before being pinned by the other. Every few seconds, you could spot droplets of blood flying. It was an odd thing — on one hand, seeing Rafe get his ass handed to him almost put a dizzy smile on your face, but on the other hand, you knew he’d never stop coming after JJ now. Any chance he got...

Especially since now he probably got the hint that JJ had some sort of feelings for you. JJ didn’t come after him like a concerned friend, JJ lunged at him like a enraged boyfriend. JJ attacked him like someone who was in love with you. And after what Rafe said in the trailer, or at least what you remember of it, these two would be butting heads over a lot more than financial status.

When the blaring of sirens hit your ears, you perked up, as well as everyone else. But Rafe and JJ were too enthralled with trying to kill each other that they must not have heard anything. 

The pogues began calling JJ’s name, trying to draw him out of his rage-induced assault to get back in the van. After a few moments, he finally registered their voices and the sound of the sirens. He forcefully pulled himself away from Rafe as the boy laid on the grass, heaving. JJ delivered one last glare to the boy on the ground, the blonde’s chest going up and down heavily as he turned and threw himself into the van.

“And don’t come ‘round here no more, you hear me?!” Barry’s voice traveled before Pope slammed the door shut, John B speeding off.

Your eyes were trained on JJ’s breathing figure — he had a small trail of blood going from his bottom lip to his chin, dirt on his shirt and in his hair, and his eyebrows were set into a permanent frown. You managed to meet his eyes for a second and he looked upset. 

Upset with you?

KIARA AND SARAH HELPED YOU INSIDE THE CHATEAU AS THE GUYS HELD THE DOORS OPEN. What you didn’t expect was for Marley to come charging at you the second you stepped foot in the house. The girls let you go gently, allowing you to crouch down on your knees and embrace your dog.

She smelled like wet dirt and you could feel the outline of her ribcage as you rubbed her sides. Tears gathered in your eyes as you and Marley comforted each other. Your voice was still weak and scratchy as you spoke softly to the animal. If anything, after today, you should be grateful she was still alive.

“Hey,” John B spoke up, your eyes going to him. “We can hose her down in the backyard while you wash off.”

You drew your lips into a thin line, nodding your head in his direction as you stood up on shaky legs, Kie and Sarah putting a hand each on your back. He and Pope led Marley outside, JJ lagging behind. “JJ.” You called out. The blonde simply looked at you over his shoulder, chewing the inside of his lip before making his way outside with the other two guys.

Your shoulders fell at his cold demeanor. You guessed he was upset with you.

“It’s okay…” Sarah reassured, her hand rubbing your back as you frowned into the distance. “He just needs a second.” She told you, turning you in the direction of the bathroom, helping you walk alongside Kie who hadn't said much. “C’mon. We’ll help you get yourself together…”

WHEN YOU CAME OUT OF THE BATHROOM, the house was empty. The only living things inside being a sleeping Marley and you. She looked a lot cleaner, aside from the food remnants around her mouth. You smiled smally to yourself, admiring the animal for a moments before walking over to her, crouching down and placing a light kiss on the top of her head. She was so deep asleep that she didn’t stir, even a little.

You almost passed out a handful of times in the shower, the steam only contributing to the lightheadedness you felt but easing the neverending ache in your arms and legs. But you felt better — less disoriented. Less…gross.

You were dressed in one of JJ’s few sweatshirts and a pair of pajama shorts. All the time the two of you’d spent living together meant some of your clothes were still mixed in with one another’s. Your hair was slightly damp, the strands pulled back into a low bun to keep it out of your face. 

Even though you felt more sober, you still felt like you were walking outside of your body and it was making you a bit nauseous. You spotted a bottle of aspirin on the kitchen counter, snatching it up and swallowing two pills.

Just then, you heard voices outside — low and faint, but there. You peered out of the small window in the kitchen , spotting John B and Pope laid out on the HMS Pogue. Everyone must’ve gone outside, you thought to yourself.

You slipped out the backdoor, bare feet on the grass as you walked in the direction of the two guys.

“What’re you two talking about?” Your voice was still off and scratchy but you were grateful that you could hear yourself talking. The two males turned to you, making out your figure in the dark of night as you squeezed into between them on the boat.

“How’re you feeling?” Pope was the first to ask, genuine concern swimming in his eyes.

You sent him a small smile. “Better.” You nodded. “...And I’m sorry. For putting you in a weird position, before I left. I shouldn’t have done that-”

“You don’t have to apologize.” He shook his head, patting your shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You mumbled a ‘thanks’ to the boy, patting the hand on your shoulder as he slid it off as you turned to John B who was already looking at you. You knew him the best out of all your friends. That’s why you could tell he was going from upset with you to sad all at once.

“Just say it.” You sighed, giving him the floor.

“...Why didn’t you tell me?”  He asked, squinting his eyes. “You’re like my sister. And not to sound weird but I love you, dude. I would’ve killed Rafe-”

“That’s why.” You cut him off, a pitiful frown on your face. “I didn’t need you doing anything stupid in my defense. And you were still torn up over your dad. We both were.”

He just huffed, turning away from you and shaking his head side to side as he crossed his arms. “...You still should’ve told me.”

“I know.” You nodded, sighing and sliding down to lay fully down next to your two friends. “Where is everyone?”

“Well, Kiara is out front doing…whatever. JJ has been pacing in the Surf Shack for like an hour, and Sarah...left.” He hesitated at the end of his statement, eyeing John B who just sighed deeply. You looked between them both, eyes stopping on John B.

“What happened?” You asked.

“We, uh…we broke up.”

“What?” You asked, shocked. “Why?”

“...She wasn’t the biggest fan of how I react to Ward blowing himself up.” He explained, shifting in his spot. “She said I looked glad. And I didn’t want to lie to her and say I wasn’t. Because I was.”

“I mean, I get it.” You threw out, looking up at the stars in the sky. “He killed your dad. He killed a lot of people…I think it’s okay to be glad he’s dead. But I also get her side. He was her dad. But she can’t expect you to feel the same.”

“Exactly what I said.” Pope chipped in. “How sad can you expect someone to be when their father’s murderer dies and they get to see it?”

“I don’t think it was that, though.” John B spoke up, his brows pinched. “She said that out of all people, she thought that I’d understand what it’s like to lose a dad. And I do and I feel like a dick for not comforting her in that moment and giving Topper the opportunity to swoop in but…I feel like she didn’t even give me a chance to be there for her.”

“...Love is five minutes of pleasure for a lifetime of pain.” Pope said sadly, you and John B turning to him silently with wide eyes. The boy turned to the both of you, the same expression plastered on his face.

“Okay…” John B groaned, sitting up from his position and leaning on his arm.. “You and Kie, talk to me. What’s goin’ on?”

“Well…” Pope said, sitting up as well as you just looked up at the two guys. “She wants to be just friends.”

John B and you sighed simultaneously. “Whooo, death blow.” JB said to him. “Sorry, man.”

“It’s not like I can say I didn’t see it coming. After what happened in Charleston…” Pope was explaining before he cut himself off, his wide eyes darting to you as he pressed his lips shut. But John B’s curiosity was peaked, and so was yours.

“What happened in Charleston?” The brunette boy asked, looking between the two of you. 

Pope’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. You cocked an eyebrow, sitting up on your own elbow now. “So you did see it?”

Now he was the one looking confused, using his finger to point at you. “You saw it? I thought you were inside-”

“I was but I had just walked out when I saw them.”

“So, we both saw it?”

“Helloooo.” John B butted in, the two of you looking at him. “Third party is still here. Saw what?”

“The kiss.” You and Pope said at the same time, looking at him.

“Kiss? What kiss? Who kissed?” He asked, genuinely baffled.

“Kie and JJ.” The both of you said in sync again.

John B’s jaw dropped as he stuttered to find words. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding JJ?” He settled on his question, eyes on you.

“Yes…” You said squinting your eyes. “What would you know about that, though?” You asked, wondering when JB got the inside scoop on you and JJ’s newfound relationship.

“I mean, everyone could see he had a thing for you. For a looong time. Well, everyone but you…”

“Thank you.” Pope butted in, throwing his hands up in surrender when you shot him a glare. “I’m just saying, I wasn’t the only one who saw it.”

“And he kind of told me everything that happened while me and Sarah were gone.” John B smirked as you groaned. “But we’re getting off topic…” He waved his hands, dismissing the previous statements.

“Right.” Pope refocused. “I never said anything about the kiss to her or him. I just kind of hoped it was a spur of the moment thing and that it would just remain as that — a kiss. But then, she friendzoned me. And now I can’t help but think that she likes JJ. And I don’t know if JJ likes her, no offense Y/N...”

“He told me he doesn’t.” You butted in. “The day we got that call about what happened to your pops, we had an argument about it. He said that Kie initiated the kiss and it didn’t mean anything. To him, at least. I don’t know how much of it I believe but," You cut yourself off, shrugging. "And I can’t speak for Kiara…”

“Okay, here’s some not-so-friendly advice for the both of you from good ole Dr. Routledge,” John B piped up, a bright smile on his face. “You,” He pointed a Pope. “focus on your yourself and your books and…grades and shit. Forget about Kie, there’s plenty of fish in the sea. And you, Pope, are one handsome young man and I guarantee there is some girl out there willing to jump your bones and not kiss one of your best friends. And, you, little missy,” His attention turned to you. “If JJ says he doesn’t have feelings for her and the kiss didn’t mean anything, I’d believe him. He loves you and I don’t think he would do anything to purposefully screw up his chance with you. And please, for the love of God, be nice and talk to him. Hearing him whine about you not talking to him is going to drive me off a cliff.”

The three of you laughed before you turned to Pope, a light smile on your face. “So, you really just weren’t going to tell me?” You asked in faux-offense.

Pope faked shock, a hand on his chest. “Uh, me? I didn’t even know you and JJ had something going then. If anything, you should’ve been the one to tell me.”

“I didn’t want to upset you!” You laughed and groaned all at once.

“Yeah, yeah…” He waved you off lightheartedly. “Alright, next time we see something that would…affect the other person, we have to tell. Deal?” He asked, holding out his pinky.

“Ohhh, okay. We’ll be each others witnesses. I like this two person witness protection program.” You smiled, connecting your pinky with Pope’s. “Deal.”

YOU WERE IN THE GUEST ROOM WHEN THE DOOR CREAKED OPEN, a stream of light illuminating the dimly lit space — the only source of light being a bedside lamp. You thought everyone had gone to sleep.

Turning at the sound of the door, you found JJ closing the entryway behind him before he turned to you. You could hardly see his features, not enough light to see his face clearly. Neither of you said anything as he walked slowly towards you, walking around the bed. 

He stopped in front of you, just inches between the both of you. Nothing was to be heard except your breathing and the cicadas outside.

“...What’s wrong with you?” He asked. His voice sounded strained, like he’d been crying. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You nodded, accepting his frustration towards you. Swallowing, you attempted to reply.  “...I didn’t think-”

“Yeah, you didn’t think.” JJ cut you off. “You left without telling anyone. You went there alone. Why would you do that?”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there-”

“Anything could’ve happened to you. Anything.” JJ reprimanded, shifting closer to you subconsciously. “Do you know what is was like to hear, from Pope, that’d you left to go to Barry’s trailer hours ago? That you hadn’t answered any of his calls or texts that you said you’d answer? To ride all the way there with my heart beating out of my damn chest just to rush in and find you passed out on the couch with the your pants unbuttoned, confirming every single fear-”

“Nothing happened-”

“But something could have!” He lost himself, looking around as if someone heard as he licked his lips, one tear rolling down his cheek. “He tried to, clearly, and something could have.” He sighed, letting himself sit on the edge of the guest room bed, his head in his hands. “...You didn’t even know who I was when we woke you up the first time to put you in the van. You didn’t recognize any of us. You were completely out of it. I've never seen anyone like that...” He told you. You don’t recall waking up more than twice. Voices and colors here and there but…not much. “I know…that you think I took your trust and feelings and ran with them. But you can’t do things like that.” He said firmly, lifting his head to look at you. “I’m not blaming you. I just want you to understand that even if you’re mad at me or whoever, you can’t just abandon ship. Especially, not like that.”

He told you, reaching his hands out to grab your waist and pull you closer as you sniffled. You felt almost completely sober as you stood between his legs, the aspirin you took earlier taking effect.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his teary blue eyes boring into yours as he looked up at you. You bit your lip from the inside of your mouth as you nodded. “Okay…good.” He sighed, letting his head fall in relief before looking at you again. “I know the last few days have been…hard. Especially today. And I’m sorry that I put you in a place where you couldn’t even trust me as a friend anymore. But I don’t know how else to tell you or show you that I love you. And today just made me realize how badly I need you and how far I’m willing to go for you.” He said softly. “...There were so many reasons I didn’t tell you about the kiss. For one, it didn’t mean anything to me. Also the fact that I didn’t want to cause drama between you and Kie. But none of that matters because there was only one reason that I should’ve told you — because you deserved to know and because I promised I would. So, I am really sorry.” 

You'd never heard JJ be this vulnerable and open. Or be so vulnerable and open this easily. It didn't seem practiced or rehearsed. It was like he was really letting his heart speak for him and right all his wrongs.

After what happened today, holding a grudge wasn't as appealing. Because you didn't know what could happen tomorrow.

“...I believe you. And I forgive you.” You said, eyes locked on his. “And I’m sorry, too. If I had told you guys where I was going then maybe-”

“Don’t even go there.” He stopped you, shaking his head. “Rafe is insane. What he and that fucking loser, Barry, did wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t have gone there alone, sure, but what happened wasn’t your fault.”

You just sent him a half-hearted smile. You know he meant it but you still felt at least partially to blame. You licked your lips and took a deep breath before speaking, your hands rubbing up and down the blonde’s exposed arms. “JJ…” You spoke, more like whispered.

Something in the way you looked at him changed. Something in the way you felt for him changed. “...I want you.” You felt the boy tense in your arms, lifting his head up more to look you directly in the eyes. “I don’t need any more time. I know what I want and I know how I feel. I love you. And I want you.”

“...Are you sure? Because you just went through something really terrible tonight-”

“I’m sure.” You interrupted him. “If I keep waiting until nothing bad happens to be with you, then we’ll never be together. This is our lives now. And even if we didn’t have all this death and drama around us, I would still love you.” You reassured, trailing your hands up to his shoulders as his soothed themselves up and down your waist. “You said you were all mine. So, now I’m all yours, if you want me…”

He had a look on his face that you couldn’t decipher. His eyes looked at each of yours and then landed on your lips, seeming to trace them before pulling you down into him and colliding his lips with yours. A small noise of surprise leaving your lips before you melted into the exchange. Your hands slid around the nape of his neck as his trailed the length of your thighs, helping you onto his lap.

His fingers pressed into your skin, passionately dragging his prints into your skin as your nails scraped at the skin of his scalp and shoulders. The kiss wasn’t like the ones before. Those were soft and gentle, testing the waters. This kiss was hungry and prolonged — feverish. So starved of each other that it probably would’ve had the potential to lead to something else if the day had gone differently.

But knowing JJ, after what happened tonight, any kind of sex was off the table. Ad you weren't sure when you'd be ready to go that far. But this was good enough. More than good enough. There wasn’t a single part of either of you that wasn’t touching. You couldn’t help but sigh when his warm hand went up under your shirt, his fingers clawing at your back as he pressed you endlessly closer against him. 

You were confused when he pulled back — lips swollen and red as his hair stuck up in one-hundred different directions. He was breathing heavy when he spoke. “Sorry, sorry…” He said through labored breaths. “Just to be clear, you are my girlfriend, right-”

You couldn’t help but laugh and roll your eyes. “Yes, JJ, I’m your girlfriend.” You smiled. “I’m completely yours.” You sighed, eyeing his lips like an animal before connecting your lips with his once more, the both of you falling back into the mattress.

next chapter>

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[hiiragi7]

Recently started Transgender History by Susan Stryker, and was pleasantly surprised to see intersex be given about a page and a half of text in the Contexts, Concepts, and Terms section of the book. There are some parts of it which I think are good, some "good enough", and some which I feel miss the mark a bit. Overall, I think Susan Stryker did a pretty decent job here and I'm happy to see intersex included, though I do think there's room for improvement and criticism.

A note I'd like to make here is that this book was originally published in 2008 and revised in 2017, and I'm unsure how much this section in particular was revised since the original publish date - If anyone can find that out I'd be very interested to hear about it!

I'm going to be copying the text from the book here and giving my thoughts on it.

Intersex: Typically, being an egg-producing body means having two X chromosomes, and being a sperm-producing body means having one X and one Y chromosome. When egg and sperm cells fuse (i.e., when sexual reproduction takes place), their chromosomes can combine in patterns (or "karyotypes") other than the typical male (XY) or female (XX) ones (such as XXY or XO). Other genetic anomalies can also cause the sex of the body to develop in atypical ways. Other differences of sex development might take place during pregnancy or after birth as the result of glandular conditions that contribute further differences in the typical development of biological sex. Some of these anomalies cause a body that is genetically XY (typically male) to look typically female at birth. Some bodies are born with genitals that look like a mixture of typically male and typically female shapes. Some genetically female bodies (typically XX) are born without vaginas, wombs, or ovaries. All of these variations on the most typical organization of human reproductive anatomy -- along with many, many more -- are called intersex conditions.

Starting off with examples of intersex variations rather than giving a definition first followed by examples left it hard for me to follow exactly where Stryker was going with it, but that could be a writing style preference; personally I think I would've been a bit lost if I didn't already know what intersex was. Overall I think this starts off pretty solid, gives a good overview of the massive spectrum of sex we're dealing with when we talk about intersex - it doesn't fall into the same "mix of male and female, ambiguous genitals" trap that many other definitions do which I appreciate. The use of typical/atypical (instead of, say, disordered) is good. I also do appreciate the preference for differences of sex development over disorders of sex development.

Intersex used to be called hermaphroditism, but that term is now usually considered perjorative. Some intersex people now prefer the medical term DSD (for Disorders of Sex Development) to describe their sex status, but others reject this term as unduly pathologizing and depoliticizing. Such people might use DSD to refer instead to "differences of sex development," or they might hold on to the word intersex -- or even hermaphrodite, or the slang word herm -- to signal their sense of belonging to a politicized minority community.

This is also good! Really feel like we're addressing the elephants in the room here. Hermaphrodite is perjorative, some intersex people use Disorders of Sex Development but other intersex people consider it unduly pathologizing and depoliticizing and instead use differences of sex development or just intersex (or reclaim Hermaphrodite), and we belong to a politicized minority community. Very cool! Lots of things were said here that other authors are often too afraid to touch on, if they even mention us at all.

Intersex conditions are far more common than we tend to acknowledge; reliable estimates put the number at about one in two thousand births.

Actually, it's more like 1-2 in 100 births, my guess as to what's being referenced is actually the statistics for those born with ambiguous genitals ("The estimated frequency of genital ambiguity is reported to be in the range of 1:2000–1:4500" [Link]), which is disappointing. I do appreciate Stryker going against the "intersex is rare" myth, though.

Intersex doesn't really have all that much to do with transgender, except for demonstrating that the biology of sex is a lot more variable than most people realize. This becomes significant when you have cultural beliefs about there being only two sexes, and therefore only two genders.

Stryker lost me here. Intersex doesn't have much to do with transgender except as a demonstration of the variability of sex? I'm tired of people saying intersexuality's only relation to transgender is this when there are many more connections to be found between the two. It's exhausting to have your community be constantly stripped down to a singular point or a debate tool for someone else's use. Didn't like this part.

These beliefs can lead to intersex people becoming the target of medical interventions such as genital surgery or hormone therapy, often while they are still infants or young children, to "correct" their supposed "abnormality". It is being subjected to the same cultural beliefs about gender, and acted on by the same medical institutions, through the same body-altering techniques that give intersex people and transgender people the most common ground.

This part is better, and I do like the connection between intersex and trans people here. I do believe that acknowledging that both communities are impacted by much of the same systems and techniques is good and should be further talked about.

Some trans people who think that their need to cross gender boundaries has a biological cause consider themselves to have an intersex condition (current theories favor sex-linked differences in the brain), and some people with intersex bodies also come to think of themselves as being transgender (in that they desire to live in a gender different from the one they were assigned at or after birth).

I think that there is... quite a large difference between the two groups suggested here, in a way that makes the comparison uncomfortable. Additionally, I did also notice the difference in "trans people" vs. "people with intersex bodies"; it leaves me wondering why they were referred to differently, especially when "intersex people" was used further up in the passage. Perhaps it's to contrast with, for lack of better words, trans people who consider themselves to have differently-sexed brains which make them intersex?

Still, it's best to think of transgender and intersex identities, communities, and social change movements as being demographically and politically distinct, albeit with some areas of overlap and some shared membership.

Complicated thoughts here. Yes, there are differences in our movements and communities, and yes, we are distinct groups - this is important, especially when a lot of people still try to conflate intersex and trans as being the same. However, I think "some areas of overlap and some shared membership" is really underestimating things; While I believe it's pretty safe to say that most trans people do not identify as intersex or participate in intersex communities or advocate for intersex issues, the opposite doesn't appear to be true - a report from Trevor Project found that "58% of intersex youth identified as transgender or nonbinary or were questioning their gender identity". [Link] (PDF)

These are all my current thoughts, going back to reading the book now.

[theamberfist]

Leave it all on the Dance Floor! | Alastor x Overlord! Reader

Platonic! Alastor + Best Friend! Reader who's also an overlord.

Description: After seven years, Alastor pays a visit to the territory of his best friend, an overlord with the power to make people dance.

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of cannibalism) (Part 1 of 5)

"More wine?" A voice beside you asked gently and you turned your head to see your trusted assistant, Joan, standing there with a tray of wine glasses in her hand. Your expression softened at the sight of her but you shook your head.

"No, thanks." You replied with a sigh. You must have been zoning out before because now that she'd gotten your attention, the music playing nearby didn't seem nearly loud enough and you reached over to the speaker on your right to turn up the dial. Joan, a demon that highly resembled a black cat, frowned.

"Not enjoying tonight's party?" She asked with slight disappointment evident in her voice. After all, the two of you had always worked so hard to put on events like this for those living in your Swing Sector. It helped keep their spirits and, therefore, loyalties high despite the fact that their souls were owned by another; or at least, that was the reason you'd always given. In truth, the feline knew there was probably no need to go to such lengths. After all, you were one of the most beloved overlords in the entirety of the pentagram, and most of these sinners had handed their souls over to you willingly.

"I'm just a little tired from the rest of this week." You replied finally before glancing at your demon assistant again with some hope in your eyes. "Any word on my 'special' guests?" Maybe if one of them showed up, you'd find it within yourself to enjoy tonight like Joan wanted you to.

Your hope died a second later, though, when she shook her head. "Zestial and Carmine both politely declined but sent their regards," she explained, "Our other guest gave no response, and it seems Rosie will not be able to attend this evening."

Damnit. There went that plan. You always invited your overlord friends to attend these parties, and usually, three out of four of their answers were always the same. Zestial and Carmilla didn't consider dancing to be their scene, and he hadn't been seen in years, so despite sending word of every gathering, you'd stopped expecting to hear anything back.

But Rosie usually did her best to attend whenever you invited her. She always said how she just loved the chance to spend time with you and you both had gotten more than accustomed to dancing together. She was rather talented at it too, and you'd lost count of how many times you'd won dance contests at these events. She wouldn't have missed one of these if it wasn't totally necessary, so you suspected something important must have come up.

"Susan again?" You asked Joan with a sigh, earning a solemn nod from the catlike demon.

"I'm sure her actions had something to do with Rosie's absence tonight, yes." She told you as politely as possible, not wanting to insult any of your friend's people in front of you, even when she knew how much you hated that one in particular.

"If I see Susan again I'll have to make her regret keeping my friend away from another of our parties," you decided as you took a glass of wine from Joan's tray now, "This is the third month in a row." Joan nodded before slipping away to continue serving wine to the other party attendees and you sighed as you continued sipping wine from your place above the dance floor.

Out in front of you, nearly everyone from the Swing Sector was enjoying their evening. From drinking to dancing to chatting, it was all just how you liked it; the only problem was that in recent years, you'd begun to lose some of your enthusiasm when it came to parties like these.

You knew it had started back when your best friend went away years ago, as ever since, you'd only been losing more and more enjoyment when it came to your daily activities. The worst part was that you didn't even know when- or if- he would be coming back.

Still, as you finished off your glass of wine, you knew you needed to at least try to keep up appearances, despite what you were feeling on the inside. And that, of course, meant going around and mingling with your guests. You set the now-empty glass on a table near where you'd been sitting and then headed off towards the dance floor now, where crowds of people were gathered around.

A small sense of pride filled you at the sight of what they were wearing. Even without having been told to do so, everyone had come donning something originally made by you; the greatest designer in hell (though certain overlords would disagree with that title). Whether the clothes were from your lines years ago or the one that had just come out last month, they all wore outfits personally created by their own stylish overlord.

So at least, if nothing else, you had a well dressed group of people at your disposal.

"There they are!" People exclaimed now that you were up and mingling around, and the crowd quickly parted to allow you to pass them by. There were gasps and aww's as people called your name or waved in your direction. You just smiled back and tried to sport the high amount of power you possessed in the way you moved.

Truthfully, you had been doing the whole overlord thing for a while. You died back in the 1940's when swing dancing had been highly popular, and upon arriving in hell, had quickly swept the pentagram with your combined strength and charisma.

You supposed that was why it had now become your trademark, in addition to fashion. Of all the different types of dance that were out there, swing had always been your favorite, and you were extremely talented at it. As a result, everyone who came under your control would be as well.

"Lovely to see you," you grinned at various party guests, "Glad you could be here!" The first time you'd hosted one of these, you'd required the attendance of everyone in the Poise Sector. By now there was no such thing, and yet the entire sector always turned out for them.

You chatted lightly with some of the people you recognized best and introduced yourself once again to those you didn't; knowing there would be a few new souls at your disposal by the end of the night.

As you turned to the dance floor, though, the sight of it slightly disappointed you. There were people out there, of course; there always were when it came to your sector. But there were so few of them that the space held none of that fun, beautiful energy you'd come to love so much. As much as you didn't feel like dancing tonight, you knew something had to be done about this, and so you headed up to the slightly-raised stage at the end of the dance floor with a sigh.

"Excuse me!" You called to get everyone's attention once you were standing atop it. Instantly, the chatter died down and they all snapped their gazes in your direction. With a grin you placed your hands on your hips like a disappointed mother. "I thought I was clear this was a dancing kind of party!" You exclaimed, "So I'd better see some more bodies on that dance floor; dead or alive!"

Immediately, the space began to fill up as couples made their way onto the dance floor. You smiled at the sight and then stepped down from the stage. That was more like it.

You hated to see a dance floor without lively people on it, which was how you'd found out about your powers in hell in the first place. Upon getting to your first party and seeing no one else dancing, you'd immediately turned up the music and started doing so yourself, only to find that everyone else who heard it seemed to be swept up into your movements as well a moment later. And when you stopped, they'd done the same, as if somehow attached to you and your will. It hadn't taken long for you to realize you were the one making them sway and bop to the music, and of course, you'd been enjoying that ability ever since.

You'd even met your best friend that way; accidentally running into him at one of your nightly outings. At first, he'd been offended by your attempts at forcing him to dance alongside you, but after realizing how much appreciation you had for good music and dance society, the two of you had hit it off pretty quick. Plus, it hadn't hurt that you'd both been from similar time periods.

"Care to dance?" A voice spoke behind you now and you turned to see Joan standing there with her hand extended towards you. Once you recovered from the surprise, your smile widened even more.

"I'd be delighted, darling." You replied as you took her hand and let her lead you onto the dance floor. Things had gotten much livelier now; just the way you liked it.

You weren't even using your powers at the moment; after all, you generally didn't have to in order to get the people of the Swing Sector to do what you wanted. They knew what would happen if they disobeyed, and they respected you too much to do so in the first place.

Joan and your presence only brought the energy up higher; if that was possible. The sight of you dancing near them made people step up their game and if you continued letting things escalate, you knew you would soon have an impromptu dance contest on your hands. That was how it usually went at these parties, anyway, and back in the day, you and your old friend had won many of the little contests together.

But you forced yourself to push him out of your thoughts as you danced with Joan now. You couldn't keep dwelling on that loss; no matter how much it may have hurt you for him to disappear so suddenly and without warning.

Joan seemed to understand where your head was because she threw herself into the moves; twirling and dipping you like her life depended on it. Having danced with the cat demon plenty of times before, you easily kept up with her and even threw in a few of your own accent moves.

The two of you probably danced through about five songs together before you finally paused, letting you both catch your breath in the middle of the dance floor. Joan had a huge smile on her face though, and it proved to be contagious as your own widened through your heavy breathing. After a moment you regained your composure, though the feline was still tired from your first few dances.

You were about to suggest she take a break before continuing when you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder. You raised an eyebrow, knowing none of the people in your sector were brave enough to touch you out of nowhere like that; even if you beloved, you were still an overlord.

Whoever it was must have given Joan a look because her eyes widened and she immediately nodded, stepping away from you and through the dance floor.

Ah, so whoever this was had decided to cut in.

You couldn't help feeling a little irritated at that knowledge. After all, you'd already been having a tough night and now as soon as you and Joan had started enjoying yourselves, it had been interrupted. You even considered telling this person off for it.

That was, until you looked up to see their face. If you'd been breathing heavily before, your breath had all but stopped now in realization.

Yellow teeth curved into a huge smile, red eyes, and a pair of small, all-too-familiar antlers sat atop his head. In that moment, you could have cried.

"...Al?" You breathed, seeing his smile widen.

"Pleasure to see you again my dear! It's been quite a while now, hasn't it?" He replied with a carefree tone. Even his voice, with that damned radio filter, sounded just like you remembered.

"Alastor!" You exclaimed so loudly that you were sure even Rosie over in Cannibal Town could hear you. Not waiting another moment, you pulled him into a hug so tight that it could have crushed a someone's bones, had the person in your embrace not been the Radio Demon himself. "It's you!" You couldn't hold back your joy and his smile widened even further, if that was possible, as he hugged you back.

"In the flesh, darling!" By now, the rest of the Swing Sector had gone back to dancing as if nothing had happened. Of course, they were as shocked as you to see Alastor back after seven years, but they knew better than to voice that surprise in the middle of your reunion. There would no doubt be gossip about the circumstances of his arrival and visit later, though.

"Where have you been?!" You demanded once you pulled away from his embrace. Of course, you knew him well enough to know he likely wouldn't give the answer to you straight; he liked hearing theories and speculations way too much for that.

"Oh you know, here and there!" Alastor replied vaguely before glancing around at the other sinners on the dance floor. He kept a smile on his face but glared at the ones currently looking your way, making them immediately turn back to minding their own business. "Now, care to have this dance with me, my dear?"

"Of course." You replied with a grin as you took the other demon's hand, glancing at the various dancing pairs around you. "In fact, I think you may have returned just in time for a dance contest." 

You could already see the competitive sparkle that grew in Alastor's eyes, having won many such competitions with you in the past. As much as you wanted to know where he'd been all this time, you supposed that would have to wait until after the two of you had defended your titles as the reigning swing dancing champions of the Swing Sector. 

"Then we'd better show these sinners how it's done!" The Radio Demon exclaimed with all the enthusiasm you'd come to expect from him. 

As you two danced, you could feel the party's mood begin to liven up. You couldn't get a smile off your face anymore than your best friend could, it seemed, and it had begun to spread to the souls under your control as they stepped up their own dancing game. 

"Now tell me, how have you been since I saw you last?" Alastor asked before twirling you around, "And don't leave out a detail, dear!" You chuckled, knowing there was so much to catch him up on. 

"I've managed," you replied sarcastically, "I have more souls under my command than the last time we met and Swing Sector has been coming along nicely. We even finally put in that diner Rosie and I have been talking about for years!"

"Wonderful!" Alastor exclaimed before glaring at a dancing couple that had gotten a little too close to encroaching on your shared space, "How glad I am to hear that worked out for you!"

"Me too," you admitted, "Some of her people staff the place, along with my own. That way, we have a wide variety of menu items. I bet you'd enjoy the food there!" At this, the deer-like demon nearly smirked. 

"Oh, I'm sure I would," he told you as the song you'd been dancing to ended and a new one began, "Speaking of Rosie, how has she been these past years?" 

"She's a lovely as ever," you said with a smile, "She usually attends over monthly parties but hasn't been able the last couple of times due to...circumstances." At that, Alastor's ears fell back as if he already knew whom it was you were referring to.

"I see..." He replied before regaining his composure and widening his smile again, "Well, I suppose now that I've returned the three of us will have to find a time to catch up again!" 

"Definitely!" You replied with a nod, "And then you can explain to the both of us why you've been gone all this time. I tell ya, we were starting to worry you'd gone and died!" You sent him a playful glare, "But of course I know the great Radio Demon couldn't be taken out so easily. Speaking of, have you let Rosie know you're back in town yet?" 

There was a brief pause in the conversation as he spun you again before you came back to face him. "Al...?" You questioned sternly. The deer demon, still smiling as brightly as ever, simply shrugged innocently (or as innocently as someone like him could). "Al!" You exclaimed now. You would have given his arm a light smack if you hadn't been in the middle of a dance. "I can't believe you just appeared after seven years and you haven't even thought to tell her you're back in town!" 

"I plan to inform her shortly," Alastor replied dismissively, "But make no mistake, darling, I've only returned today, and you're the very first person I came to!" That made your expression soften a bit. 

"Really?" You asked, only for him to nod in response. 

"Of course!" Before Alastor could go on, the song picked up and you knew it would be drawing to a close soon. He seemed to realize it too because he turned to you and you nodded in confirmation. From there, you both picked up the pace and gave it your all; showing off for all the new-in-town sinners who thought they had even a sliver of a chance at winning this competition. 

Leading the steps, Alastor seemed to have disregarded everyone else's places on the dance floor now as you two moved across it. Finally, the song started to come to a close and he timed one final spin perfectly so that he'd dipped you dramatically as it ended. 

There, you paused for a brief second before the entire dance floor erupted into applause. Smiling, you stood up straight and brushed yourself off, knowing you and the Radio Demon had once again won this competition. 

"Still got it, I see." You smiled towards the deer demon as the two of you took your bows. 

"Of course!" Alastor replied cheerfully, letting go of your hand now to adjust his coat. "How could I call myself your friend if I'd let my dancing skills diminish over the years?" You rolled your eyes but a smile was still evident on your face as you pulled him into a hug again. 

"I'm really glad you're back, Alastor." You said seriously now, taking note of how all the people around you suddenly seemed to find the ground and sky much more interesting than your display. Good; they knew better than to be nosey about their overlord's dealings and relationships. 

"As am I." Alastor replied before finally pulling back to look you in the eyes, "I must say, I've missed you a great deal all this time!" You chuckled now before turning to see Joan signaling to you that it was getting late and that she would be in your boutique nearby if you needed anything. With how much time you always spent in the place, it had become your home by now, and the whole second floor had been converted to a living area. Joan, being your closest supporter, always made sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed before leaving you for the night. 

"Come on," you told Alastor now, nodding towards the boutique. "We can have tea, and then maybe I'll consider designing you some new clothes. It's been seven years after all; don't you think it's time for a little update?" 

"I trust your judgement," Alastor replied as his smile widened. You headed for the boutique and he followed after you, taking in the sense of familiarity the place brought him. 

He'd been worried about your reaction to his sudden return, but as expected, you'd taken it as well as ever. Alastor knew he was more than lucky to have a best friend as understanding as yourself, even if he wasn't going to be getting out of telling you the truth eventually. But until then, he was glad just to be able to spend time with you and catch up.

It really was good to be back. 

..........

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

[jo-harrington]

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Chapter 1: Alternate Universe

Previous Chapter: Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Your unexpected arrival in Hawkins brings many questions for Eddie...but he knows better than to ask dumb questions.

Word Count: 5.1k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Fluff, Love at First Sight?, Tiny Angst if you Squint, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events and characters, Lovesick Eddie, unbelievable pacing...just roll with it, Everything's Coming Up Munson

Note: Thanks to everyone who read the prologue.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

It seemed like everyone was there to say goodbye.

Your parents, Sam, Pat, Bonnie, all of your friends and their families. Everyone you know.

What a surprise.

You thought it was gonna be a quick morning getaway.

You'd already had dinner at Danny's last night with your parents and had seen countless faces—familiar and unfamiliar—who'd wished you well. This morning was just supposed to be about bags placed in the trunk, last minute hugs and tears from your mom, and then off you'd go.

You hadn't expected this.

Some little voice inside of you questioned why you hadn't; you'd known them all for practically your whole life.

5 years.

What...no...18 years.

Why wouldn't they want to be here as you embarked on your big journey away?

Sam gave a tearful speech. Your dad made some corny joke that only a dad could, one that had everyone in uproarious laughter--more laughter than people, it seemed--and then it was time to go.

You didn't have a real schedule, of course, you just wanted to make it to your destination with ample time. Nothing like driving into an unfamiliar town in the middle of the night only to find yourself in a heap of trouble.

Pat, ever observant, was the one to notice the anxiety etched on your face. He was as much your best friend as Sam was, maybe even more than she was; you'd known each other since Kindergarten, sat next to each other in the reading circle, of course he could tell you were itching to leave.

"Alright guys," he announced, clapping his hands twice the way a star quarterback would. "I'm sure she's ready to get away from all of us."

"Yeah," Sam let out a watery laugh. "You need to go so you can come back as soon as possible. Wink wink." She flashed her hand with the little diamond chip engagement ring that you helped Pat pick out, and then she collapsed against you in a hug.

"You go and you have the best time," she whispered in your ear. You nodded and buried your face in her hair. "I can't wait to hear all about it. Write letters home? Call? But don't worry about us, we'll all be safe here. Ok?"

"Yeah," you said breathlessly.

Then the next thing you knew, in the blink of an eye, you were in the driver's seat of your car, rolling towards the end of the block. You adjusted your rearview mirror and saw everyone you loved waving goodbye to you. You rolled down your window, and blew them a kiss and sent a wave; you'd miss them so much. You'd be back soon enough though; now it was time for you to just be free.

“Go back?” you quoted one Mr. Bilbo Baggins to yourself as you turned the corner and left everything you knew behind. “Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!”

This was it.

Eddie was dead.

That had to be the explanation.

Your car was one thing, and he could excuse it. He could convince himself it was anything else.

But you? His favorite character from his favorite television show. Someone who was absolutely, definitely fictional.

It was impossible.

"Hey!" you called out to the Mayfields with your voice, your your voice and not Rosemary Glass's voice. Your real voice. Yours.

Eddie pinched himself pretty unforgivingly—one last ditch effort to prove this was a dream—and winced.

Not dreaming. Definitely dead.

You quickly shut the door and crossed the distance towards Susan and Max.

"I'm sorry, it's late and it's cold; I've been driving all over and the road got icy, I must have lost traction. Need new tires maybe."

"Too bad," Susan snapped at you. "You hit my car, I'm calling the sheriff."

The two of you went back and forth for a second as you tried to get her not to call the cops and she stood her ground.

"I can pay for it!" You exclaimed suddenly and Susan froze in her spot. "And then some, for...I dunno, emotional distress I guess. I know it's late. I'm sure I woke you guys up. I'm just...I'm sorry."

You looked around self consciously all of a sudden, and Eddie could hear the faint murmur as you said something under your breath. He froze as your gaze slid over him, paused, and then kept going.

Play it cool, Munson. Don't pass out. Don't fuck this up.

It was hard when the love of his life was standing right there, in the flesh, and had just looked at him.

As Susan and Max met you in the middle of the yard to talk details, Eddie gave himself the pep talk of the century.

Even if he was dead and this was some sort of afterlife, surely the fates had certainly set this up for him. Some being of greater conscience than he--a mere human--could possibly comprehend was giving him this chance at...love? Happiness? It would be a good reward after an unremarkable end to a shitty life.

Or maybe he was still alive and had actually sold his soul to the devil back inside and this was the payoff.

"I'll fucking take it," he muttered to himself and fished another cigarette from the pack with shaky hands; he was gonna need it if he was gonna survive the night.

He watched the interaction between you and Susan with a keen eye, eager to witness the little gestures and mannerisms that he'd only seen on screen. Once it seemed Susan was happy with whatever deal you'd negotiated, you pulled a scrap of paper from the back pocket of your jeans and gesture vaguely around. Max was the one to snatch it from your hand and then point to a dark trailer that sat kitty corner from Granny's.

Were you gonna be his neighbor? This was just getting better and better.

"Thanks," you smiled and, even from this distance, Eddie's heart stopped.

If he was barely hanging on thanks to your presence, how was he gonna survive your smile? Especially if it was inevitably directed at him.

"Pull it together," he grumbled and took a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry flaring extra bright in the darkness of night.

The Mayfields retreated into their home and you shuffled back over to your car, feet kicking the gravel.

You were about to get back in when Eddie abruptly jumped to his feet.

"Hey!" He called out to you. "Uh...I...know my way around cars, I can take a look at it in the morning. I-if you want. Bang out any dents."

"Can you?" you scrunched your nose in the way that made his knees shake. God he was pathetic. "That'd be nice, thanks."

"Yeah no problem," he smiled the friendliest and most welcoming smile he could.

His thoughts raced at lightspeed now, a mixture of logic and hope. No matter the circumstance, you were here because of him, which meant that this was his shot. So, he would fix your car--or at least try to--figure out if you were some sort of demon or something, and then ask you out.

Easy.

And hopefully you'd say yes. Hopefully. Eddie was gonna be optimistic, but not an idiot. He had to stay humble.

As you maneuvered your car the short distance to the dark trailer, Eddie watched. And in the glow of your taillights, he noticed the abundance of bumper stickers that adorned the trunk. Stickers that weren’t there in the finale, which meant…

"She got to have her adventure," he said to himself in awe, happy that...at least in the few months since you left Port Geneva, you might’ve gotten to experience the world just like you wanted to.

He couldn't wait to ask you all about it. He couldn't wait to find out everything.

The morning took way too long to arrive.

Eddie tried to sleep but he was too wired, too excited.

He already decided that he was gonna skip class the next day. Or maybe roll in late if you had someplace you needed to be and he wouldn't get to show you around town or something else totally not lame.

That’s what he was banking on, though. If you had no plans, he could take you to Benny’s and get you a short stack with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, just like you got at Danny’s Diner back home.

“Alright,” he stared at himself in the mirror as he stepped out of the shower. “See? You can’t do that kind of shit. Can’t scare her away by making her think you know her already. That’s creepy. Gotta act like we don't know her. Easy.”

Not that easy, actually.

He was just...bubbling with thoughts and feelings. Enough that they caused his brain to go into meltdown.

At first, he tried to rationalize it all, tried to come up with some solution. Because somehow, for reasons to be determined at a later time, you left the confines of Port Geneva’s universe and made it to this one, where you were actually definitely real.

Right? You couldn't be a hallucination if the Mayfields had talked to you too. In fact, they talked to you first. So if anything, you were their hallucination.

Eddie tried to recall something that Henderson and Sinclair had babbled on about at lunch the other day: some new issue of the Flash comics. Crisis on Infinite Universes or something where people jumped to different timelines. Whatever that meant. If he had the time, he knew he should ask them a few questions about different universes and how this might all be possible.

Purely hypothetical, spin it as some idea for a campaign.

But why would he wait and let a good thing pass him up just because this was weird and he had questions?

Best case scenario, no one beside him would realize that you were a tv character, they would just think your name was familiar or something.

Worst case scenario they accuse him of witchcraft and bringing you into this dimension or something because there was no way you were real.

It would all work itself out in the end. He just had to be uncharacteristically optimistic and keep his eyes on the prize.

Come morning, Wayne got home from work and he walked in the door just as Eddie had changed clothes for the fifth time, made coffee AND breakfast for him, and washed the dishes.

“Well isn’t this a surprise,” he remarked and stared at the scene in front of him. “Do I wanna know what you did?”

“You remember when I was younger,” Eddie began as he fiddled with his rings. “And I asked you…I dunno…something about the birds and the bees and you said ‘I’ll tell you when you’re older kid?’”

“Hmm,” Wayne crossed his arms over his chest and ran a hand over his mouth. “Go on.”

“It’s nothing bad but, uh, I’ll tell you when you’re older Wayne.”

His uncle cracked a fond smile, gave him a pat on the shoulder, and then shuffled down to the bathroom.

Eddie sighed in relief and took a sip of his coffee while he looked out the window towards your trailer. It was daytime now; he didn’t expect to see lights on or anything, but he knew you got in late and didn’t want to interrupt your sleep. Not a great first impression.

Before long, though, he’d just gotten too antsy to wait anymore. He practically sprinted—damn when was he gonna learn that he shouldn’t skip gym so much—across the park to your door, Wayne's meager toolbox from under the sink swinging from his hand.

He paused the slightest bit to admire your car--

How many hours of screen time had been spent in this exact car as you drove Sam and the gang around for various shenanigans. There was one episode, a favorite of his, where everyone was belting out a tune from the radio and you sat there in the driver's seat...too shy to open your mouth. When they finally coerced you? You had the worst singing voice...but you smiled so brightly...that was the moment he knew he loved you...

--and, more importantly, the stickers that adorned it.

There were some normal ones: funny phrases, a few band stickers he wouldn’t have expected you to listen to, and a single borderline political one. A sticker that specifically caught his eye said “Greetings from Erebor” with a sword that had to be Orcrist and dwarvish runes below it.

You were a girl after his own heart; fortunately, it already belonged to you.

Then there were the ones you’d obviously picked up on your travels. He took an extra moment to look at them and think of some questions he could ask. A favorite place you visited, something crazy you might have eaten, or even some fun facts about...Monument Valley, Ocala National Forest, Mystic Falls Virginia, or…Cicely Alaska?

“Damn,” he let out a low whistle. “Must've put some miles on this thing.”

Having spent enough time just standing there, Eddie finally climbed the stairs and knocked on your door; the walls were thin enough that he could hear you shuffling around inside and he was relieved that he hadn’t woken you.

The door swung open--Eddie swore he heard the applause track from Port Geneva play in his head--and then there you were.

It was a moment he would cherish in his heart for the rest of his days. You, standing there, smiling that sweet, unsure smile at him with slightly tired but nevertheless bright eyes. Your clothes were askew from sleep or aforementioned shuffling and you straightened them out a little when you realized what you might look like.

“Cigarette porch guy,” you pointed a finger at him in recollection after a moment.

Now was the time, though, to muster up every ounce of Munson Magic that he could. He collected it deep in the core of him and then let it mingle with affection in his heart.

"Cigarette porch guy is my father. You can just call me Eddie."

You snorted a laugh and he beamed confidently; that confidence, however, fled his body as he felt the urge to hop around, giggle, and say "I know" when you introduced yourself. He needed to not screw this up by being a hyper mega-fan.

“I was so tired when I got in, I honestly thought you were a figment of my imagination,” you explained. "I woke up at like...4am trying to figure out if you were real or not."

Funny. He was trying to figure out the same thing.

Still, his heart skipped a beat to know you'd thought about him in any capacity after the few words you'd shared.

“Ouch,” he laid a hand on his chest and feigned a stumble. “I know it was late but I would hope I made a bit of a better impression than that.”

You pressed your lips together, scrunched your nose, and looked down at your feet.

“I’m, uh,” Eddie thumbed over his shoulder. “Here to take a look at your car.”

“Oh!” Your head snapped right back up. “Right! Yes, oh my god thank you. Let me just…get my keys and my shoes hang on.”

You retreated back into the trailer and Eddie, nosy as he was, peeked inside after you. Wayne would be ashamed of him, but he couldn't exactly care right now.

Your trailer mirrored other ones in the park, in terms of layout: a living room, a little kitchen, a hall that probably led to a bedroom. There was furniture though, which was not the norm.

A green armchair and a very well-worn blue plaid sofa that was home to a granny-square quilt, a too-soft pillow, and a very fancy canvas bedroll that Eddie assumed must have belonged to you. There was a dusty coffee table stacked with dustier magazines and newspapers and some very questionable looking mugs and plates of what used to be food. Yuck. A green bicycle with one tire was hung vertically on the wall beside the couch. And a little dining set off the kitchen looked like something straight out of the Brady Bunch.

He tried to remember who lived here before you did with such weird taste in furniture. Even more peculiar, where they might have gone for them to leave all of it behind. Especially the plates. No one came to mind though; he'd have to ask Wayne.

You shuffled down the hall--presumably from the bathroom since you'd slept out on the couch--and hopped as you tugged your sneakers on.

You jingled your keys at him excitedly.

"Here we go," you exclaimed. He held his hand out to take them and you were about to drop them in his palm when you hesitated. "I hope I'm not putting you out."

"Of course not," he reassured you and then backed out of the doorway. "It's my pleasure."

You listened aptly as he touted his excellent mechanic skills--

"You, uh...might hear my van rumble a little bit though. Haven't quite figured out why it's making that sound yet."

--and then you sat on the porch steps to watch him as he got to work.

The two of you talked as he inspected your car.

You were surprisingly very good at making conversation. Eddie always believed that you were a little soft spoken or a little shy, watching you on tv. However, as you spoke so excitedly and confidently and he saw you bloom in front of his very eyes, he wondered if it was just a byproduct of being overlooked whenever Sam took the spotlight with her grand speeches, big emotions, and too-bright personality.

He was suddenly excited at the prospect of seeing the real you and learning a lot more that wasn't shown on TV. In return, he could show you the real him too. Hell, he was always trying to be the real him...there were just some things though...

What an odd idea that hadn't really hit him until now. The desire to have you in his life to share things with, and the reality of having you here. He'd never thought of a relationship with a future before, hell hadn't even thought of his future really. Not even with Paige and the whole rockstar pipe dream, as short-lived as that was.

But the more he thought of that with you, the more he liked it. Desired it.

You started the conversation off by asking him about Hawkins and if he'd lived here for long. He gave probably the most unbiased opinion that he could as he hammered out the dents from your collision: it was a sleepy suburb where nothing ever happened and everyone was judgmental and opinionated and hated everyone who disturbed the status quo.

“Aren’t they all like that?” You asked, one eye sliding shut in a mischievous wink as you raised both brows in question.

“Yeah, I’m sure they are.”

Then he asked you about how you ended up in Hawkins, of all the places you could have picked, as he taped up the headlight that you'd cracked.

"It was fate or something. Had to bring me here so I could meet you right?" He sputtered over a response to that and you just laughed. "Actually, I just picked a place on a map. Pick two places. Flip a coin. That's how I pick most places I’ve been, you know?"

You took the opportunity to spin a tale about the so-called "perpetual roadtrip" that you'd embarked for the past year. His heart soared to hear that you’d been “practically everywhere” and he nodded eagerly when you offered to show him your sketchbook sometime with drawings of your favorite places.

"I know I need to go home at some point," you explained with a dismissive wave of your hand. "I guess I just don't know how to...stop driving. I've started this thing recently where I settle down somewhere for a little while. Maybe a few weeks? Maybe more. Get a job, get to know the people. Then I get to like...the final page of that chapter--the end of my little story in that place--and it's time for me to move on again.

"Actually, I guess it's not moving onto the next chapter; it's more like I've been written into a corner. I just...don't know what it is that I'm looking for. What it is that I need."

Eddie snorted to himself.

How many times had he asked himself what deity wrote his story into a pathetic corner where he couldn't leave Hawkins? And here you were feeling the same, only you were stuck in another way.

"Well...I hope you don't move on from Hawkins too quickly," he said, full of naive hope. "Maybe you'll find what you need here."

"Hmm," you rested your chin on your knees and sighed. "You know what? I kinda hope so too."

There was a lot of weight in your gaze as you watched him, and Eddie cleared his throat awkwardly and continued his inspection of the outside of the car so he wouldn’t make a fool out of himself with a mushy smile or a giggle.

He made his way back to the trunk and the bumper stickers; it was then that he asked about Cicely.

"Alaska? Seriously? You drove all the way up there?"

"Ok listen," you said with a conspiratorial grin. "I'm maybe a little bit of a phony. I traded someone for that one. This guy in a diner in Washington."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm. Damn fine cup of coffee." You snorted to yourself, some inside joke that he wished to be a part of.

"Is that, uh...a perpetual roadtrip thing?"

"I…I guess it is."

Finally, to end his self-proclaimed "ten-point inspection," Eddie got into the driver's seat to start the car, chatting all the while.

"Well, if you want a damn fine cup of coffee, there's this diner nearby that I swear makes the best. I know I haven't driven past Chicago or anything but..."

He trailed off as he turned the key in the ignition and noticed the odometer.

Your miles were in the millions.

Several million, at that.

He had half a mind to call you on your shit that you'd never been to Alaska because, surely, you had to have been with that high a number, but then he began to question the sight. He didn't think his odometer even went that high; none of the cars he'd ever seen went into the millions.

Was it just a Volkswagen thing? Or maybe a bi-product of you being here? A wrinkle in the fabric of reality?

Eddie tried to do the mental math but he couldn't figure out how many times you must have circled the states to hit that many miles. Or for how long.

A million miles divided by 365 days divided by 12 hours of driving in a day? He couldn’t do that much math without his head hurting. Still, it just didn't make sense. Maybe it was just broken?

"Everything alright?" you suddenly appeared at the door, teeth worrying your lower lip. You laughed but it didn’t quite meet your eyes. "You were just saying something about coffee and then you got all quiet. I don't need a new transmission or something do I?"

“You…” Eddie swallowed and stared at you, wondering if he should point out the odometer, if he should ask. Bur hadn't that been his problem just a few hours ago? Too many questions, too little time. Why was he going to pick this wonderful thing apart when he finally got what he deserved and yearned for all along.

“You...probably need an oil change,” he announced instead. “It sounds a little clunky. I, uh, can do it for you but I’ll need to stop by Thatcher Tires for some supplies.”

Your shoulders lost their tension and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Eddie, you’re seriously trying to be my hero, huh?” You fawned; hearing his name from your lips, let alone the fact you called him a hero, made his day. His year. Possibly his entire life. “You wanna fix everything else that’s wrong with my life?”

“I could try,” he offered eagerly.

“Don’t, I’ll seriously take you up on the offer.” You pressed your hands to your cheeks then looked back at the trailer. “Ok tell you what, give me like…20 minutes to get the road off of me and change. Then we can go to Thatcher Tires and you can show me this place with the best cup of coffee? And I can get you breakfast or something?”

Eddie was speechless again; were you…asking him out? Ok no you were just showing your gratitude, but it was a first step. Was everything going according to plan for the first time in his life?

He couldn’t count everything that happened in ‘84 for obvious reasons.

You noticed his hesitation and your eyes went wide.

“Unless you had other plans or someplace to be? I’ve already taken up enough of your time—“

“No!” He shouted and then backtracked to be a little softer. “I…no, there’s nothing else I have to do today. I’m…I’m all yours sweetheart.”

The rest of the day went by without a hitch.

And it truly was the rest of the day that you spent together.

It was almost too good to be true.

Eddie acted as chauffeur and self-proclaimed tour guide of Hawkins. He pointed out specific landmarks you'd need to know as he passed them: the town center, the grocery store, the post office.

"In case you want to send letters home or anything." He glanced your way slyly, hoping to maybe get some excited response about your friends back home, but you hummed noncommittally and turned your attention to the radio instead.

The rest of the ride to Benny's was spent swatting at each other's hands and bickering as you discussed music. When he mentioned that he had a band, you were awestruck, and Eddie's chest puffed with pride.

"Ok," you nodded appreciatively. "I see it now. The whole alt. metal wannabe rockstar thing. It suits you."

"You're gonna take back the whole wannabe rockstar thing when I write a song about you and it's a chart-topper," he teased.

"What's it gonna be about? My loser neighbor crashed her car, she held me hostage at the...dine-ar." You winced at the bad rhyme, but Eddie thought it was adorable. "Obviously I'm no Shakespeare. Please don't consider that my interview to be your songwriter."

You'd surprised Eddie by ordering an omelet instead of your usual, so Eddie, quick on his feet, ordered your usual instead and surprised you.

"Are you a mind reader? I always get that," you confessed. "I was just so tired last night, I figured I needed something a little more substantial."

Once the food arrived, though, you stared longingly at Eddie's strawberry and whipped cream covered pancakes. He took mercy on you and slid his plate to the middle of the table so you could take a few bites. You mirrored him with your own plate and he snagged a couple of bites of eggy, hammy, cheesy goodness.

You butt heads good-naturedly when it came time to dress up the plate of hash browns that came with your omelet. You wanted to keep it simple with salt and pepper, while he wanted them doused in ketchup. Back and forth, your forks clinked against each other's chosen condiment, over and over, until it was a veritable sword fight over the side dish.

"Stop it Eddie! They're so nice and crispy, don't ruin them."

"It won't ruin them. What are you saying right now? That you just don't like ketchup? You're breaking my heart."

"Some things are meant to be enjoyed in their pure and undisturbed state. Keep your filthy tomato goop away from my potatoes!"

The two of you laughed all the while, and Eddie swore it was the most fun he had outside of Hellfire in...quite some time.

Benny, who was also amused by your antics but not enough to listen to it for the rest of the morning, decided enough was enough and brought another plate of hash browns, "on the house if it'll prevent a food fight," before he retreated back to the kitchen.

The trip to Thatcher Tires was quick, and then the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon outside of your trailer again, chatting away as Eddie changed your oil. You sat on your stoop and doodled in your sketchbook as he regaled you with stories of his friends and his favorite haunts around Hawkins.

Granny had come out at one point to say hello and promised a welcome-to-the-park casserole, but after she left you noticed how he'd gotten a little sad and asked him what was wrong.

Eddie told you about Ronnie then, how much he missed her. How it was like missing a whole...bite had been taken out of his side when she finally left for college.

It felt like the easiest thing in the world--telling you everything and having you listen--because he'd already done it before, so many times. Only now, you were able to respond; he could look over and see you smile or laugh at one anecdote or another. Or offer some advice about your own friends who you missed. You didn't even judge him when he mentioned he was on his second repeat senior year; you just told him about your own story as an almost-drop-out.

You understood. You saw him. Just like he knew you would.

At some point late in the afternoon, as the sky began to take pink and orange hues and people started coming home from work, Eddie reluctantly called an end to your day together.

"I took up all of your time," he admitted bashfully, hands shoved in his pockets. "I'm sure you have a million things to take care of."

"I mean yeah," you shrugged. "But one day won't hurt. And it was a really good day."

"It was."

"Thanks for everything Eds." You immediately made a face and he laughed. "Eds? No. Ed...Eddie. God, sorry, I hate the whole figuring-out-the-nickname thing. So weird. Thanks for everthing Eddie."

"Yeah don't mention it," he chuckled.

It was a real midwest goodbye as you loitered at the bottom of your steps, prolonging both of your departures. A promise to bring over that tape he said he'd let you borrow, or to come share in Granny's proffered casserole when you finally received it.

Then finally, when you were practically in the door of your trailer, you turned around and stared at him, worrying your lip with your teeth as you often did.

"You know, I wasn't the valedictorian or anything, that's my best friend Sam," you shuffled your feet and paused for a minute. "But if you ever need help with homework or anything..."

"Yeah," he agreed a little too quickly, eager to get more time with you. "No, yeah...that sounds...great."

"I'm pretty good at history," you went on. "I have a crazy memory, you wouldn't even realize."

"No that sounds great, I'm, uh...failing history right now, actually," he admitted.

"Perfect! You know where to find me."

"It's a dat--study session!" He caught himself quickly, but not quick enough. He felt the heat building in his cheeks as you covered your mouth in a giggle. "Ignore me. Ignore that. I'm just gonna go...yeah."

And then, it was like in the movies. The angels were singing, birds chirping, the slowly dying sun beamed brightly on you as you opened your mouth and said:

"It can be a date if you want it to be. I had a lot of fun today, so I, uh, think that would be pretty great actually."

It was everything Eddie ever wanted, everything he ever dreamed.

A real date. With the real, very real, definitely not fictional girl of his dreams.

He smiled the biggest smile he ever had, big enough to rival a shark, that's how happy he was.

"It's a date, then."

Next Chapter: Out of Character

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[l0ngschl0ngking]

Apology won’t cut it

Tim Rockford x f!reader

summary: Tim forgot about your anniversary…how can he make things right?

warnings: SMUT (oral -f!receiving, vaginal fingering, somnophilia -with estabilished consent, reader and Tim talked about it before-, unprotected p in v, reader “hangs” onto those shoulder holsters while Tim fucks her, creampie,(1) spitting on pussy, praise kink, biting), talks of infidelity, cursing, mentions of food, mentions of reader being pregnant, fluff -it’s me…so :)

word count: 4.3K (how that happened? - i don’t know either)

A/N: Tim is hot and I have things for detectives/agents with shoulder holsters (*cough, cough* Seeley Booth)

You met Tim a few years back through your friend. Normal Sunday brunch turned into you confiding to her – telling her that you worry that your husband might be cheating. The past few months he was spending more and more time in his office – the fact that you saw his new personal assistant a few months back who was much younger and prettier than you didn't help.

Susan, your friend, tried to soothe your worries but when you started being a babbling and a sobbing mess – you've spend most of your life with your husband and the thought of him cheating on you cut your heart deeper than you thought it would – she sighed and withdrawn something from her purse. A small plain business card layed between her neat fingers.  

She passed it to you with a few tissues as well and when you finally wiped all of your tears away,  you looked at what was written on it – both of your eyebrows raising in a question.

“It's a private investigator. I hired him when I had a suspicion that Richard might be cheating on me as well. Turned out he was just working extra shifts so he could buy me an engagement ring.” She grinned at the memory and you looked at her finger – the diamond ring he bought her shining in the daylight sun. You offered her a little smile – happy for her. Richard was a nice guy – sweet and genuine and you didn't know how she could think he was cheating on her – he kissed the ground she walked on. “But really, he is great, sweetie. A little pricey but he does his job well. It doesn't hurt that he is easy on the eyes too.” She winked while you bit your lip in contemplation.

A few days pass since your Sunday brunch and you think about calling the number numerous times – then telling yourself that you shouldn't doubt your husband's loyalty. Though when he left this morning without even kissing you on the head as he normally would – not even sparing you a little glance, you were more certain than ever – you were going to find out what was going on once and for all. Even if it should break your heart.

When the other voice on the other line says “hello?” you get nervous. You are really doing this.  

“Hello, uhm – I, ugh- I’d received your business card from a friend and would like to hire your services. Are you busy or-?” Smooth. Real smooth.

“No, not really,” he chuckles - the cigar he was smoking dangling from his lips, “would you like to meet at yours or at my office?” His voice was a little gruff but very soothing at the same time. You try to imagine what he looks like – didn't sound like a young man, maybe someone close to your age range – not that you were old or something.

You quickly scribbled the address where he worked as you found it more appropriate that you rather meet him at his office than if he should invade your own home.

When you arrive at the address he gave you, you found yourself in front of a small brick building – the doors are pretty mahogany color but creaky and when you enter it looks bigger than on the outside. Various small offices with different names on glass windowed doors surround you and you look for his business card in your purse – forgetting his name.  

Tim Rockford – it says on the card and you squint your eyes when you see doors with the same name on it far back. You stride with confident steps towards it even when you are not feeling that way at all. You knock – one time, two times and the third time a small gruff “come in” can be heard from the other side of the door.  

When you step in the first thing that hits you is the cigar smoke and you cough a little – you hate smoking. Then you finally see the man in question. He looks a little older - the bags under his eyes make him seem that. He quickly stands up from his leather chair that creaks and offers you a small smile which you uncertainly return. He is handsome in a ruggish way. His hair is short and has a few silver strands mixed in there as well,  and his beard is patchy – that is something very endearing about the fact. His shoulders are broad and you think he should buy a bigger shirt as this one is straining against his frame – not that you mind that much.  

He quickly puts out the cigar when he sees your nose wrinkling at the smell – observant as well. Not bad. He reaches his hand out to you and you take it – his grip is strong but not in an unpleasant way and his palms are a little sweaty. He clears his throat and offers you his name which you do the same in return. He sits down and gestures to the older-looking armchair sitting opposite him. It's comfier than it looks.  

“So, what brings you here, m’am?” You scrunch your nose for a second – not feeling that old but don't say a thing about it. Right, let's cut right to the chase.

“I-I think my husband might be cheating on me and I'd like for you to find out if that's true.” He doesn't look at you weirdly or anything – as you thought he would. He just nods his head and asks your husband's name which you provide.  

“That's all I really need. I will find out all of the other information myself and will call you if I will find some clues. Sounds good to you, m’am?” You nod and give him your phone number – the phone you called him from being the house landline.

A few weeks pass, Tim calls you often or you go to his office – recently you started inviting him to your house as you started feeling more comfortable around him – all of the clues hint that your husband is really cheating on you and he tries to make you feel better about it – cracking jokes here and there and you appreciate it even though it doesn't seem all that professional.  

Today he brings a folder with him. The yellow one you often see in some kind of crime film that holds photos of the victim – and when he enters he throws you a sad smile. You know what it means but you try to not think about it. You offer him tea and he hastily accepts – he knows that you already know. In the past few weeks, he got to know you and he noticed that you try to occupy yourself with other things when you are nervous.  

He sits on your leather couch – you bought it last week – and he watches you make the tea in your smaller kitchen. When you sit down next to him you put the cups of tea on the glass table. He passes you the folder and when you open it a few tears flow freely from your eyes. You were expecting it. You really were but it still hurts. You feel sick as you throw the folder next to the cups – not really in the mood to look at the pictures of your husband sticking his tongue into someone else's throat. Tim lands his hand on your shoulder – trying to comfort you. That's when you throw yourself at him, hugging him close to you and he doesn't reciprocate the hug for a while – it's not professional at all and he shouldn't but when you sob into his work shirt his heart breaks and pulls you closer to him. Slowly stroking your back and kissing the top of your head gently.

You stay like that for a while – him rocking you while stroking your back and telling you “what an idiot your husband is for treating you so poorly” as you try to compose yourself. And when you do- you pull away a little – looking into his eyes, maping out his face with your eyes. He's handsome – you noticed the first time you've seen him but after each time you've spent together you started appreciating his ruggish handsomeness more and more. You'd never admit it but you've touched yourself at the thought of him a few times – feeling guilty afterward not knowing if your husband was cheating on you. You felt like you were the one cheating after every time you got yourself off at the thought of Tim between your thighs.

“Kiss me.” You whisper as you look at him and he shakes his head – feeling like he would take advantage if he did.  

“No, you're in a bad mental state right now and you don't know what you are saying, sweetie.” The nickname of endearment falling from his lips is first and you shake your head in protest – pulling yourself on top of his lap and he doesn't have the strength to stop you as this is something he wanted for a long time too – you were not only a client to him. Not for a long time, anyways. You were smart and funny, and beautiful and he liked you a lot. Even if he really shouldn't feel this way.

“I wanted this for a long time, Tim. Please, just kiss me, will you?” You don't have to tell him thrice, he surges forward to meet your wanting lips and grabs your hips and you start grinding down on him. You moan when you feel him harden under you and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours – it's frantic and passionate and you feel him everywhere at once. His hands are pulling your tank top off and he cups your tits when they come into the view – pulling away from the kiss. He starts kissing your cleavage, his hands trying to quickly unclasps the bra if that piece of clothing offended him and you on the other hand try to unbutton his shirt. Getting impatient you huff and he notices – he always does with everything. He slows the pace down and unbuttons the shirt himself while getting distracted multiple times – you're kissing his neck and he moans when he feels you nip at the sensitive skin behind his ear.  

When the shirt is finally off you immediately start paying attention to the newfound flesh – kissing and licking a path across his shoulders that you oh, love some much and dragging your tongue lower – circling his nipple with it. He groans and throws his head back – the vein on his neck popping with the movement and you bite him there, soothing it with your tongue. He grinds against your mound and if you keep going he will for sure cum in his pants like a fucking teenager. He pushes against your shoulders softly and you start to protest but he shuts you up with his mouth once again. It's slower and more sensual – his tongue fighting with yours lazily and unhurriedly. He finally unclasps your bra – his greedy eyes taking you in. Palming them in his hands it's your turn to moan and he grins – his thumbs stroking the sensitive nipples. He brings his head to take one into his mouth and you can't do anything else than writhe on him – your hands are in his hair and you massage his scalp. He groans against your bud while the other hand strokes your other tit and you feel like you've gone to heaven and back. You didn't feel this good since – well actually never.  

When he is happy with his work – the bitemarks on your tits will leave nasty bruises for a few days for sure – he slowly puts you on the leather couch. You are sweaty and it sticks to your skin but you don't care – not when Tim is trying to get rid of your shorts. You don't wear anything underneath and you swear you can see his eyes goes entirely black – his pupils blown wide and his breathing quick. He lowers himself onto his tummy and you are confused for a second before you realize what he is doing. You try to protest that he doesn't have to but he just “shhh” you. His mouth is on your inner thighs in no time and his beard causes a delicious burn on them. He is slow with it – trying to enjoy every second of it but you are impatient. You tug on his hair and growl – slapping one side of your inner thigh mumbling a quiet “impatient girl” before he licks into you without a warning.

You cry out – your head thrown back and your back arched, the hands that are in his hair grip him tighter and he moans into your cunt with an unspoken agreement for you to keep doing that. Not many men went down on you – certainly not your husband – but Tim looks like he is enjoying this more than you if it is possible. His nose bumps into your clit with every lick – you feel yourself squeezing around his tongue. One of his hands makes its way to your open mouth and he sticks two fingers into it – coating them in your saliva. Pulling them back out he creates a path with them from your mouth to your neck, then under your neck, on your tits, down your tummy and then pressing two of them against your pussy – exchanging his tongue with his fingers while he sucks your clit into his mouth and it doesn't take long before you are cuming, after all, it has been too long since anyone made it seem like their life goal was to make you cum – the moans and cries of his name echoe throughout the living room with the wet sounds of your pussy squeezing his fingers while he fucks you through the aftershocks of it all.

When he finally stops – you have to push his mouth away from you feeling overstimulated – he just grins against you and sits up – balancing himself on his heels while he cleans his fingers humming at your tangy taste on them. You are exhausted and your lashes flutter against your cheeks but you can hear the clang of his belt and his words echoing in your ears: “ We're not done in the slightest, baby.”

You try to wait for him. You do. But your eyes feel heavy – you already ate the dinner you made for the two of you – Tims's favorite meal – lasagna. You put the rest of it along with the portion into the fridge – scribbling a quick note that if he feels hungry the leftovers are in the fridge. You look at the time: 23:03. And that's when your phone dings.

Hi, baby. Don't wait for me, I am still at the office working on that crazy grandma case . Love you, xoxo

You sigh in defeat. No apology, no nothing. You expected it, to be completely honest. He was so wrapped up in this new case he sometimes forgot what his name was. But you felt that he was married to work and not to you – not that you two were married but you get the drill. You understood it, he worked hard for the position he now has and you too are a workaholic yourself – the money you won at the court after the divorce was put into opening your little bakery. But to forget about your 5-year-old anniversary? That seemed over the top. You don’t bother answering him – putting your phone away you put the dirty dishes in the sink – you will wash them tomorrow morning. Keeping his favorite wine on the table in case he will want it when he comes home, you grab the little envelope.  

“Seems like it's just me and you again, little bean.” You smile sadly while you caress your stomach – Tim didn't know yet but you hoped you would tell him tonight. Guess not.

As you make your way into the bedroom you lock the door and turn off all the lights. Brushing your teeth and hoping in the shower for a quick wash you think about if you should have kept the envelope on the table – no, you will tell him tomorrow after you won't be mad at him anymore. After drying yourself you tuck yourself in and put the envelope into the drawer on your bedside table. Sleep consumes you quickly – you've felt exhausted for the past couple of days.

Tim comes home long past after midnight. He's exhausted and he just wants to plop on the bed next to you. He puts the keys onto the kitchen counter and wonders in the kitchen – the kitchen lits up when he puts on the flashlight in his camera – you like to sleep with the bedroom doors open and usually wake up if he turns on the lights. He furrows his brows when he sees the wine on the table – the single rose in a small vase in the center of it. He stalks towards it and sees that it's his favorite. And then he sees the dirty dishes and the small note on the fridge – dread takes over him when he sees the date on the calendar and he lowly curses at himself.

He forgot your fucking anniversary. What a fucking moron he is. He ventures into the bedroom to see if you are already asleep – if not he will apologize profusely even when he knows apology won't cut it this time. When he sees you fast asleep he sighs and slowly creeps into the bathroom to brush his teeth. The weight of what had done – or more so what he didn't – creeps on him and he decides that he will cook you breakfast tomorrow and take you out somewhere nice – maybe even finally do the thing he'd been dreading to do for over a half a year now. When he is finished brushing his teeth he returns to the bedroom to put his guns away. You are sleeping peacefully even when he turns on the light on his bedside table.  

You look so pretty in the dim light. Your hair is sprawled on your pillow and it's too warm in here for you to be covered – he can see your legs and the curve of your ass. He licks his lips and he is not so tired anymore. An idea pops into his head – you've talked about it before but never really tried it – maybe it would be one of the many steps of his apology.

He rolls up his sleeves and slowly makes his way onto your side of the bed. You are a pretty light sleeper and he thinks if you will wake up right in the start or if he can indulge a little. He kicks the covers that surround you and touches your ankle – the touch is light and gentle. His fingers slowly make their way up your thigh stopping on your hip and you jerk a little - you turn onto your back the flimsy tank top you changed into riding higher. Tim grins, slowly sinking onto the mattress. He kisses one of your knees and then the other. Slowly making his way up – he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slowly tugs – seeing that you have nothing underneath. He always loved that about you. He caresses your thighs and kisses the inner side of both of them – trying if you will wake up he pokes his tongue out but you just mumble something so he keeps up his advances. Creating a path to your core he softly inhales and opens your folds with his thumbs as kisses your clit – you jerk a little but he hooks his palms under your hips to keep you still. His nose bumps against your clit with the first swipe of his tongue and he groans at your taste that he knows oh, so well. His tongue lazily licks into you and he is in no rush – enjoying the slow pace he slowly grinds his pants-clad hips against the mattress. It's not enough but he doesn't mind. Sneaking one of his hands away from underneath your hips he pushes one of his fingers in – you are soaked even though he barely touched you and he loves the fact that you are always so ready for him. You mewl softly and start to stir but he stops when your breathing gets even again he pushes two fingers inside of you.

The only sounds that can be heard are his harsh takes of breath and the wet suck of your pussy taking his fingers in – his mouth is now more relentless and so are his hips as he humps the mattress. His fingers curl and he tries to find the spot that makes you make such a pretty noise for him and when your breath hitches he knows he found it. He kisses your clit and starts setting a quicker phase. The tip of his tongue now flicks against your clit quickly. He can feel you start squeezing him and he moans when he feels your hands tug on his hair – the quiet “Tim” from your lips effortlessly. He mumbles a quick “good morning” even though it's not even 3 am yet.

You are right on the edge and when he adds a third finger it's all over for you. Your back arches and you cry out – his plush lips kiss your clit to work you through it and when he finally stops he pushes his cock out of his pants – stroking his dick with the hand that was in you just a few seconds ago. You are still sleepy and try to get a sense of what is happening but before you can think about it  Tim is kissing you and notching the weeping head of his cock against your entrance.

“Can I fuck you, baby? Can I fuck you silly?” You nod and he enters you with one quick swift of his hips – you can feel his balls against your ass and he tries to push even deeper. It's too much for your sleep-tired brain and you need to hold onto something – so you grab his shoulder holsters – they are cold and feel smooth against your palms and when you look up at Tim he snarls. “Yeah, hold onto me, baby.” And then he is pounding into you. The head of him pushes against your g-spot and he angles his hips just right. You can feel every ridge and vein of him and you feel him pulse in you – knowing that he won't last long. He grabs one of your ankles and puts it on his shoulder – you always said to him that shoulders like that were made for leg rest. With this new angle, he feels even deeper and you close your eyes – it feels so fucking good, his pubic hair is scraping against your clit and the gentles with hich he kisses your ankle while mumbling how “good of a girl you are for him” makes your heart ache with love for him.

He can feel you starting to squeeze around him and he bends so he can spit onto your pussy – it makes you cry out when you feel the wet press of his fingers on your clit. His are relentless and the sweat rolling off his forehead is making its way down his neck – his vein on it is popped and you'd like to bite it. The slap of his balls is lewd and the way he says your name – ordering you to be “good girl and cum for me” is making your head dizzy. It just two or so more thrusts before you are clamping down on his length and he moans – grabbing him by the neck you kiss him and start sucking on his neck – right under the himge of his jaw– and then he is cuming too – his forehead pressed up against yours. His hips try to push the cum deep inside of you and when he stops he falls next to your side, bringing you closer to him and caressing your spine.

“You think it worked this time?” You are still hazy from the orgasm, listening to his heartbeat slowing down and you just hum in question so he repeats it for you – you don't think about it too much and reach for your nightstand drawer putting the envelope you hid there into his hands.  

He opens it reluctantly and when he sees what's in there he can't contain his smiles and the few happy tears that spring out of his eyes.

“You serious? We're going to have a baby?” He laughs with joy and you caress his cheek – kissing the patch on his beard and then soothing it with your thumb

“Serious as I can be, babe. We're going to be parents.” you grin and he kisses you – smiling into the kiss and he thinks about the box in his suit jacket that has a small and elegant diamond ring in it.

He will propose to you tomorrow, take you out on a picnic or something. Yeah, he will do that.