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cha0ticspacebi · 1 year

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Like 91% of the population, you were now and would always be a beta. Except when your roommate moves out suddenly and fate connects you with Alpha Eddie Munson. After that, things start to change.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 (Coming Soon)

Pairing: Alpha Eddie Munson x Female Omega Reader

Word Count: 10.4 k

Tags: Omegaverse and everything that goes with it (knotting, nesting, scenting, heats, ruts, breeding kink, biting, you get the idea), college student reader, mechanic Eddie, panty sniffing but not from who you probably think, reader is a little freak but it's just her new instincts, a few instances were reader expresses body insecurities, talks of infertility, minor Steve Harrington x Chrissy Cunningham, and they were roommates! ⚠️ 21+ MDNI ⚠️

divider by firefly-graphics

All through public school sex education classes, you were told that if you didn’t experience signs of presenting during a certain time period, you never would. Most people don’t. That was certainly the case for you. Puberty came and went without the slightest hint of a secondary gender.

Even as society around you exists in the midst of a massive fertility crisis, more than 91% of the population is classified as beta. Experts in the field predicted that with the rapidly declining birth rates that we might see a rise in alpha and omega pairings but so far that has not been the case. No viable differences were seen until last year when the number of known alphas increased by a meager .2%.

Still, many beta couples continue to seek assistance with conceiving a child, which is part of the reason why you decided that would be your field of study. Currently a third year med student at a university, whose promising research in the field is making headlines all over the world, you hoped one day to become a fertility consultant. Helping all those who wish to start a family achieve their dream.

Ever since you could remember you’ve wanted to help people. In grade school you helped the new student find their way around. You helped the teacher with everyday classroom tasks. Everywhere you went, if you saw someone in need of a helping hand, you provided. Reaching a box of cereal from the top shelf at the grocery store and placing it with a smile in the elderly man’s basket. Helping a lost little girl in the park, you saw on your morning jog, find her mother. Offering to spend your first weekend off in a month helping your roommate move into her new place. Even though that meant you were now a one income dwelling, who wouldn’t be sustained for long on your meager university coffee house earnings.

After helping her, you arrived back to your suddenly empty two bedroom apartment. The immediate urgency for you to find a replacement roommate became very real, very fast.

The next day you posted fliers all over campus, including the coffee shop, the library, even at the athletic center! You asked your friend Robin to stick some up on the bulletin board at her job as well.

“I actually might know someone,” her eyes flashed quickly from the flier to you, “Someone who could, in theory, move in before next weekend if that's cool with you.”

You practically leaped at her offer, “Absolutely! What’s her name?”

“His name is Eddie and he’s a—“

“Oh,” you’d never had a male roommate before. You considered this new development until glancing at the clock on the wall. You were going to be late for class! While voicing your thoughts about her proposal, you were already headed towards the door, “I guess as long as he’s not a total slob and pays his part of the rent on time that’s all that matters. Give him my number and tell him to call me, I gotta go!”

“Wait! There’s one more thing,” Robin tries to scream after you but you're already running out the front door of the Family Video.

She watches your car pull away and shakes her head as she forwards your contact info, “Oh well, she’ll figure it out on her own pretty quickly.”

Tuesday was always your longest day. First the opening shift with the morning rush of tired college kids desperate for their caffeine fix. Working what felt like nonstop until noon, followed by classes until after 8:00 at night. By the time you trudged your tired ass back to your apartment, all you wanted to do was sleep. Days like today were why you started leaving a pillow and blanket on the couch because sometimes taking those few extra steps to the bedroom were simply out of the question.

Collapsing into the cushions, you felt your eyes get heavy and all your muscles finally relaxed. Sleep would come easy tonight.

Until the buzzing of your phone brought you back from the edge of sleepy bliss. You had a text from an unknown number.

Hey, this is Eddie. Robin’s friend. She said you needed a roommate! That’s such a coincidence because I’m a mate who needs a room.

You couldn’t help the little bud of a smile that grew as you looked at the laughing emoji he added to the end of the text. Is it allowed to make first impressions from a single text? Oh well, your initial impression, he’s a goofball. Playful sort of boy next door, childhood friends in another life maybe. Meeting him in person couldn’t hurt right? Robin wouldn’t have suggested it to you if she didn’t think the two of you would get along.

Hi Eddie, I’m free tomorrow after 5 if you want to stop by and take a look. Try it before you buy it right?

You found yourself holding your phone waiting for his response. Eyes suddenly a little less heavy than before. He didn’t keep you waiting long.

It has four walls, a door, and comes with a sweetheart like you? Consider it sold!

Sweetheart? Sure Robin probably told him you're a nice person and all but that’s a little, buzz. Your thoughts were interrupted as he messaged again.

Sorry, I hope that didn't come across as pushy. I don’t want you to think I’m some stereotype. I try not to act like an entitled jerk all the time. It’s just, Robin showed me a picture of the two of you at the lake last summer and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think you were pretty.

The thought that he knew what you looked like and was still sending you cheeky messages made you happier than you’d like to admit. You remembered that trip and knew exactly what picture she must have shown him. It was one of the few where you actually felt good about yourself. With another yawn, you typed a response.

You could make it up to me by leveling the playing field? I should know who I’m expecting to meet tomorrow and possibly share a place with.

Within just a few minutes an image appeared on the screen. He was straddling a vintage motorcycle with a helmet in his hands. Oh.

You weren’t sure what caught your eye more, his soft looking curly hair, his dark chocolate eyes, or those dimples in his cheeks from the smile he was flashing the camera. He followed the picture up with another message.

Rob told me you were in class all day so I’ll leave you alone since you’re probably tired. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow around 5 roomie!

You should be annoyed. First he calls you sweetheart. Then he has the nerve to tell you to go to sleep, like you’re a child who was up past their bedtime. Then to top it all off, this man has the audacity to assume that just because you exchanged a few texts that he can move right in? Who does he think he is? You should be annoyed– but you’re not. Quite the opposite actually, you just got a little more excited for tomorrow. You fell asleep on the couch with that spout of a smile still growing slowly on your lips.

Heading home after class the next day felt different. Instead of going home stressing about an exam or worrying about how you are going to pay next month's rent, you feel a touch of nervousness mingling with the excitement for a first meeting. You secretly hoped that Eddie was as cute in person as his picture.

Fate was smiling on you today because class had gotten out a little early giving you just enough time to straighten up the apartment before Eddie arrived.

You hung a clean hand towel up in the bathroom, put fresh sheets on the bed that your old roommate left behind and smiled when you lit the pine scented candle that sat on the coffee table. Happy that you could get one more light out of it before it would need to be replaced. You fluffed the decorative throw pillows on the couch and finally closed the door to your own room before waiting to hear the knock on the door.

When that noise finally echoed through the quiet air you felt your body shiver with anticipation. You let out a reassuring breath, hoping it would calm your nerves and opened the door.

“Hey!” he smiled as brightly as the picture he’d sent you while he greeted you by name, “So? Am I as cute as my picture? Because you certainly are.”

Add big flirt to your first impressions. He was definitely laying on the charm but you were also falling for it hook line and sinker, “Hi Eddie, it’s nice to meet you. Come on in!”

You offered your arm in a welcoming gesture. He stepped inside and brushed past you ever so slightly. He must be wearing a strong cologne. Just that quick pass had your senses overwhelmed with the earthy, woodsy smell.

“So this is the common area,” you pointed out all the usual necessities, “Here’s the bathroom, there’s the kitchen. Off to the side there is a little dining table but I’ll be honest I think I’ve used it once. I usually end up eating on the couch.” He commented on how it was a nice place and that it was so close to his work he could walk when the weather got nice again.

“Where do you work?”

He closed the kitchen cabinet he’d been snooping in and turned to you, “I’m a mechanic over at Murray’s Auto Repair. Rob said you work at the coffee shop on campus, what’s your field of study, young scholar?”

“Medical. I’m studying to be a fertility specialist,” you made small talk with him as you walked over to show him where his room is… would be! Where his room would be, if you think he’d be a good fit, “Here’s the other room. My old roommate said I could keep the bed and the dresser but if you already have those we can donate these since they’re in pretty good shape.”

He nodded, “Nah they look alright to me. I’m currently crashing on a friend's couch so this would be a huge upgrade.” He inspected the door handle, “Does this door not have a lock?”

“No, mine doesn’t lock either. I always figured it was because they are interior doors?” you shrugged and joined him as he inspected the boring metal doorknob, “They make portable locks you could always use.”

“Yeah, those things aren’t very strong though and when I’m in rut I can get pretty–” you cut him off.

“I’m sorry, when you're in what?”

The complete shock in your eyes and slack jaw had him pulling back a bit from you. A dejected huff through his nose, accompanied by a shake of the head told you he wasn’t too pleased with your question, “I thought Rob told you?”

“She didn’t tell me anything besides your name and the fact you were looking for a place,” you swallowed hard. You were in your third year of med school, you knew damn well what a rut was but the problem here was that only alphas experience them so if he… the wheels clicked in your head and you suddenly felt small standing beside him, “You’re an alpha?”

He crossed his arms, “Is that a problem? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable so you just say the word and I’m gone.”

His messages last night suddenly made a little more sense. He didn’t want to come across as a stereotypical hotheaded, asshole alpha. Truthfully though, he had been nothing but respectful so far. He had a steady job and already offered to pay your half of the rent for the first month! He even promised to do half the household chores. Honestly, he seemed like a great candidate for a roommate. Why should his status change any of that?

You shook your head, “No it’s alright.” You rocked on your heels with your hands held behind your back, trying to restore the conversation to its former comfort level, “So, when can you move in?”

His smile reappeared, but he didn’t answer your question. He instead turned and belly flopped onto the bed, you heard a deep sigh escape his mouth, “Shit, can I stay here tonight? I really don’t want to sleep on that couch again.” He turned on his hip and looked at you from the bed, “You know Rob’s friend Steve?” You shook your head, you’d only known Robin since the spring semester and hadn’t met any of her friends yet, “Well Harrington’s a great guy but he’s a family man now and can’t have a lonely alpha crashing on his couch anymore.”

You stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure if you should intrude on the space he just claimed, “Is Steve also an alpha?”

“Yeah. He and I had been living together for years before he met that sweet Chrissy of his,” he collapsed on his back and stared at the ceiling, “They had a kid, cute little boy, a few months ago and I lost my room.”

“Is Chrissy an omega?” you were mentally taking notes. Before Eddie came waltzing through your door, you’d never gotten the chance to talk to someone with a secondary gender at length before. There were some alphas you knew of in your classes throughout the years, mostly because all of them were loud and obnoxious about it. But none that you ever felt compelled to converse with. If they were cool with it, maybe they could answer some questions for the paper your gender sciences professor just assigned. Having some first hand alpha/omega pairbond experience would be great for your research.

“Nah,” well nevermind, considering the low omega presentation rates you’d have been shocked if that was the case. You could always talk to Eddie about what it’s like to be an unmated alpha. He continued, “Never actually had the pleasure of meeting one. I hear they are crazy sweet though.”

You asked Eddie if he needed to go get anything from Steve’s place tonight, to which he just insisted he’d go tomorrow while you were in class. You had been so anxious for his arrival that you forgot to eat so you offered to cook dinner for him.

“You really don’t have to,” he tried to stop you but then his stomach growled loud enough that it was probably heard from the hallway by a passing neighbor.

You both looked at each other and you tried not to laugh at his embarrassed expression, but it wasn’t working, “So is ramen ok? If you’re going to live with a starving college student you’re going to have to eat like one. Not that you aren’t welcome to bring in your own food or whatever. I can clear a shelf off for you.” With that you got distracted reorganizing the sparse contents of the fridge, “There. We can put shared items in the middle, I’ll put the things I buy on the bottom and you can have the top shelf.”

You opened the door wider with a smile as he admired your work. You decided after dinner you’d do the same thing with the cabinets and clear a space just for him, “Ok now I’ve definitely worked up an appetite,” reaching up into the cupboard you presented him with two options, “Do you want spicy or regular?”

He gave in. Already, barely an hour in the apartment, and he knew he was no match for you, “Spicy. Thanks, sweetheart.”

You turned on whatever movie was already in the machine while you cooked and then just a few minutes later you were placing a simple bowl of noodles in front of him. He inhaled them, “That was delicious. I’m doing the dishes!” you were about to protest, “No, don’t even try to argue with me. You've already done enough and I’ve only lived here about 2 hours! I can’t have you doing everything for me. I need to pull my weight.”

“Fine, but sit down and finish the movie first.”

He sat on the opposite end of the couch from you. You chose to ignore the little tug that wished he sat closer to you.

“Is that candle what I’m smelling?” he asked abruptly.

“Probably,” you leaned towards the coffee table and read him the label, “Evergreen Forest?”

His brows furrow, “No, this is sweeter.” He laughed, “When I first stepped in here I thought you were baking cookies, it was so sweet. I still haven’t been able to figure out where it's coming from.”

“Maybe one of the neighbors is baking something?” You weren’t really sure how to respond because you also had no idea what he could be smelling. You weren’t one for perfume and none of your soaps, shampoos, or body wash smelled sweet. At least he didn’t say the apartment smelled bad.

“Sorry, I’m being weird,” he brought you out of your daydream, “Alpha nose,” he poked himself in the tip of his nose, “I’m really sensitive to scent.”

“It’s ok! I find secondary genders fascinating. It’s part of the reason I chose to study fertility.”

He laughed and twisted himself to face you more from his spot on the couch, “Ah, I see. That’s why you let me move in so fast. Using my body for science hm?”

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not so you deflated a little, “No of course not. I just think the phenomenon is interesting. Growing up I always hoped one day I would present, especially after I was told I can’t have kids.”

His laughing faded. The familiar sad, almost pitying look appeared that everyone gives you when you tell them. You’re not shy about it and you don’t care who knows. Despite having been focused entirely on building your career since you turned 18 and got that news, you do get asked by outsiders quite often when you’re going to settle down and have kids.

Here comes the inevitable follow up question. He asks you if you want kids, “I’d love to start a family someday.” You shrug and anxiously rub your knees, “I’m painfully single though, so, one step at a time I guess.”

His laughter was quickly becoming your favorite sound in the world, “Me too! Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

“I’m 26,” you smiled, “What about you?”

“27. I presented when I was 17 and after I finally managed to graduate high school I went to a trade school to become a mechanic.” He laughed again to himself, “Not that I needed any of it. Already learned all there was to learn from my uncle.”

The title screen of the movie playing in the background and the thought of your 6 AM shift were shoved aside as you spent hours talking with him on the couch. You learned where he grew up, that he played in a band for fun with his friends, and that he was a giant nerd. Everything from Dungeons and Dragons, to Lord of the Rings, to Star Wars. He loved all of it.

You told him about your hobbies outside of school as well. He asked you questions about what kind of music you like, what your favorite color is, and listened to you talk about the things that interested you. It was kind of alarming how comfortable you already felt with him. He was incredibly easy to talk to. Finally, your body knew you’d regret staying up any later than you already had. You yawned.

“Alright pretty girl I’ve bothered you long enough. Go get some sleep,” he raised an arm and rubbed the back of his neck, “Are you sure it’s ok if I stay here tonight? I know it’s short notice and I wouldn’t want you to feel like you had to let me stay. I can move in officially this weekend if that works better.”

You surrendered. Standing right up and following his order, “It’s fine Eddie. I offered you the room didn’t I? Besides,” you yawned again, “Since you’re covering rent next month you might as well get your money's worth. Although I don’t have any extra blankets,” another yawn became the final nail in your coffin, “All I had was that sheet. I might have some pillows in the linen closet,” you went to check but he stopped you with his words.

“You’re too kind, fair maiden. I don’t need much when I sleep anyways,” he gestured to himself, “Alpha’s usually run pretty hot.” You snorted and shook your head. As different as he is, you can definitely tell he’s still an alpha. He rose from the couch with a deep bow, “I look forward to our adventures together as roommates,” he flicked his hair back up and flashed you a great view of those dimples, “Good night sweetheart.”

Eddie moved in his stuff little by little, the whole process took nearly a week. When you returned home each day you would notice a few new additions here and there. He stuck his shampoo in the bathroom, there was a six pack of beer on his shelf in the refrigerator, and you could typically hear music playing from his room at night. Finally the last item, a second guitar amp, landed in his now fully lived in room.

It had officially been a week since he moved the last of his stuff in and the two of you fell into a routine. Eddie’s shifts at the shop were usually the same time you were in class. If he got home before you and made some food, he left you a container on your shelf in the fridge. The last few times he’d started leaving a note on the container labeled “Roomie!” a little heart with bat wings drawn with markers that he definitely swiped from your backpack. Tonight you were getting home first and decided to surprise him for being the world's best roommate.

Your mind thought back to yesterday as you got started. You had just gotten out of the shower when he mentioned that sweet smell again. You figured he might have a sweet tooth so you decided to make cookies for him.

You tied your hair back and put on the apron you’d found on clearance after Valentine’s Day. It was pink with little conversation hearts scattered everywhere. A picture of a ladybug and the caption Love Bug written across the chest. After completing the scene with some of your favorite music playing softly in the background, you started to work.

After grabbing the flour and sugar, your cheeks felt warm. You had to check the clock to confirm, you’d only been working for a few minutes and you already felt flushed. As though you had been working in the summer heat for hours. You opened the small window that was situated beside your dining table and the cold winter air wafted into the warm kitchen. It helped a bit.

Setting the heat in your cheeks aside, you forgot about it after a while. You didn’t even realize how focused on your task you’d become. You felt relaxed. Every care of the outside world was gone. After mixing the last ingredient, the chocolate chips, into the dough and scooping them onto the baking sheet, you put them in the oven.

“Hm,” you mused to yourself while looking through the cabinet. Wondering if you had the ingredients to make an icing to write #1 roomie on one of the cookies.

Your mission was successful and while the cookies baked you whipped up a small amount. Giving you just enough time to do the dishes before pulling the cookies out to cool. You checked the time again. It was just after 5:00 and you knew Eddie would be back soon. Scooping the icing into a small ziplock baggie, you tried your best to write on the uneven surface. He walked in just after you finished the last letter.

“Hi Eddie!” You smiled brightly, proud of your work. Then you held out a small plate to him with the cookie, “I made this for you!”

He froze. His body went rigid there in the door frame. For the first time since you met, there was an uncomfortable silence. He just stared at you for a moment. Then, without a word, walked over, grabbed the plate from your hand and went into his room. Leaving you standing there in the kitchen dazed, confused, and if you were honest with yourself, a little sad.

You didn’t see him again that night. He stayed in his room. Replaying that event in your mind you cleaned up, left the rest of the cookies in a tupperware container on the counter, and headed to bed.

You tried to sleep but the more you pondered, your sadness turned to annoyance. You needed to complain about him so you called Robin.

“Hey! What’s up?” she sounded cheerful, “Isn’t it way past your bedtime?”

You offered a curt pity laugh, “Haha, very funny. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, I’m assuming based on your tone there’s trouble in roommate heaven?” She nailed it and your frustrations poured out like a waterfall.

“I made him cookies and he acted like I committed a crime. He gave me this look, didn’t say anything, snatched the cookie I offered him, and has been hiding in his room ever since. Is he allergic to chocolate? He might as well be with how upset he looked,” you mocked his non existence words, “Oh, I can’t believe the nerve of this girl, making me cookies, letting me move in with her on such short notice! Alpha Jerk.”

Once your rant was over she hummed, “Eddie’s always had a sweet tooth, that doesn’t make any sense. I need more details. What were you wearing?”

“Just my normal clothes I wore to class today. I did have an apron on to keep my shirt clean, but why should any of that matter?”

She laughed, “Sounds to me like you might’ve broken him. Let me guess you went full domestic goddess?”

“Well I wouldn’t describe it like that but—“

She interrupted you, “Eddie’s a simple alpha babe. An alpha who, by the way, has never been with an omega. You cooking things just for him? Classic omega behavior, you should know that Ms. Smarty-Science-Pants. On top of that, looking like absolute wife material probably had his brain sizzling like a piece of bacon.”

You listened to her but it didn’t matter, “I’m not an omega though.” Your words were more sad than you’d like to think about.

You could hear her exasperated sigh, “His brain doesn’t know that. I’m telling you that’s all it was. He’s probably hiding because he’s got a huge hard on!”

“Robin!” You yelled and immediately listened for any signs that he might’ve heard your yell. You tiptoed to the door and listened. Nothing. You waited until back in the safety of your bed before talking again, “I’ll admit, you might be right about the first part. But,” you heart sank a little, “I doubt he’s in there with a hard on. There’s no way he feels that way about me.”

“Why not?” Robin combated, “You’re fucking adorable! And If he doesn’t, he’s clearly not using those heightened alpha senses of his because anyone would be lucky to have you.”

You bloomed again, “Thanks Robin. I feel a little better. I’m gonna get some sleep. I’ll see you later.”

The next morning you went about your normal routine. If you hadn’t decided to grab some rations from the kitchen to stuff in your backpack in perpetration for a day full of learning, you’d have missed it. There on the counter where you left the container, now a lot more empty than before, sat a little note. Thanks sweetheart. He left his signature bat heart. You smiled to yourself and flashed your eyes to his door. As if it could’ve been anyone else who wrote the note for you.

A few days after the cookie incident, you and Eddie had resumed your normal interactions. Although, you hadn’t really stopped thinking about what Robin said. You were on the couch watching some random show on TV when he came in from work.

“Hey,” he sounded tired.

“Hey,” you checked the time, “Thought you got off at 5? I was surprised when I beat you home.”

He went, as he always does, to the bathroom and washed his hands. But this time he made a pit stop to set a small sparkly red bag on the coffee table in front of you, “I was supposed to, had to stay and finish fixing this stupid truck. Damn thing is just going to need to be fixed again in three months anyways.” He stood in the bathroom doorway and looked between you and the bag, “That’s for you.”

You felt the color appear on your face, “Me? Why?”

He replaced the towel he’d been wiping his hands on and walked back to the living room, “Dunno, I felt bad I guess about the other day and when I stopped at the store on my way home I saw that little guy and thought of you.” He spoke in a rushed manner like he was trying to get the words out without making a big deal out of it.

You looked inside the bag and found a small brown teddy bear with a red bow tied around its neck. It was so sweet. You held him in your hands and felt the softness of his fur beneath your fingers.

“I just wanted to say sorry. Not trying to you know, I don’t know. You can just throw it away when I’m not looking or whatever,” Eddie was rambling and it was absolutely adorable.

“No it’s fine. I like him,” you loved him. He was the same color as Eddie’s eyes.

He went to his room after that and must have gone right to sleep because you saw the light from under the door turn off and didn’t hear any music tonight. You sat there on the couch with your new friend for a bit longer and realized something. He only came in with this. If he just happened to see this while already at the store, what did he go to the store for in the first place?

It was one of your rare days off and you were catching up on some laundry. You knew he might view what you were about to ask similarly to the cookies but hey doing laundry in an apartment building is a pain in the ass. If you're going down you might as well bring some of his clothes too.

You texted him. Hey, I'm doing some laundry. You need anything washed?

He was at work but usually responded pretty quickly if they weren’t busy. They must not be busy.

Yeah uh sure. That’s cool. Thanks. There’s a little pile in the corner by my guitar.

You were usually really good about respecting the roommate code. You knocked if you needed to get his attention but hadn’t actually been in the second bedroom since he moved in. Only catching quick glimpses when he would enter or exit.

As soon as you entered, you thought to yourself, My period must be coming. The wall of musky, woodsy scent hit you like a ton of bricks. It was spicy and warm and distinctively Eddie. You stood in the door frame almost trying to catch your breath, Damn it’s probably going to be a rough one, I'm not usually this sensitive.

Once you regained your balance, you learned that Eddie had not one but two guitars. There was a red and black electric one hanging on the wall and a black acoustic one sitting on a stand beside his dresser. He didn’t specify in his message which one you should look by and both of them had piles of wadded up clothing near them.

Trying not to inhale too deeply for fear of passing out, you pulled the collar of your shirt up over your nose and grabbed the first pile under the electric guitar. A few shirts and what looked to be pants that he might wear under his coveralls at work.

With still a little room in your basket, you made your way to the second pile. Opting to just pick all of it up at once and drop it in with the other clothes. You instantly knew this probably wasn’t the one he wanted you to wash. Sitting on top of your now shared laundry were several pairs of crusty looking socks and balled up boxers that had been hiding under a shirt.

You knew you should put them back. Recreate the scene and walk away like you never touched them in the first place. Maybe he wouldn’t notice you had disturbed them. That's what you should do. You knew that. But something stirred inside you. You acted almost on instinct and before you could think too hard about it, you were picking up a pair of his green plaid boxer shorts and bringing them up to your nose.

When you inhaled the scent quite literally knocked you down. You fell backwards onto your ass. A euphoric feeling consumed you, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before. Suddenly your cheeks were flushed, your heartbeat quickened, and you knew you needed more. You smelled them again.

The room smelled like Eddie of course, it was his room. All his belongings were in here. He spent a good portion of his time here. But this, this was more somehow. More Eddie. Like someone had taken his scent and bottled it into a cologne. Then accidentally spilled an entire bottle onto this single pair of underwear.

Coming down from your high you knew you had to leave them here, he’d notice if the pile was completely missing. Thus knowing you touched his underwear like a weird pervert. But he might not notice one pair mysteriously going missing.

With the green pair still clutched in your dirty fingers, you replaced each soiled item one by one and covered them back up with the shirt. Then stood back on your feet, picked up the laundry basket, and continued your task as though the last few minutes didn’t happen.

He came home from work that night to a small pile of neatly folded shirts and pants placed carefully on his bed. There was also a small container of take out with his name on it waiting for him in the fridge. You didn’t have the courage to face him that night after what you had done. So you hid away in your room. Leaving him completely unaware of the thievery that had taken place or the hidden treasure that now sat tucked away in your nightstand.

It was officially one month that you’d been living with Eddie. If he noticed something missing from his wardrobe, he never mentioned it.

Tonight you were having your first movie night with friends that you hoped to make a weekly occurrence. Robin was already here and tonight you got to meet their mutual friend Steve for the first time when he came over with his partner Chrissy.

“I poured the popcorn into a few different bowls since it didn’t fit in just one,” Robin said with a smile as she held up two mismatched things of popcorn.

You feigned despair, “Oh no! What’re we gonna do? We can’t let people know that we live like this!” You turned to Eddie and held your cheeks, “What will the neighbors think?”

He laughed, “Your reputation as a good neighbor was probably lost the moment I moved in sweetheart.” His nickname for you became common tongue. You knew it didn’t hold any meaning, just Eddie being, well Eddie.

Robin didn’t approve of your shenanigans, she set the bowls down on the coffee table, “I never should have introduced you two. You're both menaces.”

“Au contraire!” Eddie defended, “It’s actually a crime that you didn’t introduce us sooner!”

Your heart swelled hearing that, “Aww, you really do care Eddie. Here I was thinking you just used me for my extra room. Is the big bad alpha going soft?

He smirked, “Nothing soft about me sweetheart.”

“Oh my god can you not make dick jokes for like 5 minutes please?” Robin threw up her hands, “Are we really about to bring another thick headed alpha in here? Seriously, how did you and Steve not kill each other?”

Your eyes tracked between them as they bickered. Eddie sat in his usual spot on the couch and Robin was about two seconds away from walking back into the kitchen.

Eddie laughed, “Relax! Steve and I have more sense than that. Besides, he’s got a girlfriend which calmed him down a little.”

“Good, this apartment can only handle one hot alpha,” You blurted out without thinking and instantly regretted it.

Robin, who was no secret to your massive crush on your friend and roommate, covered her laugh and retreated back to the kitchen. Shooting you a look that says you are so on your own with this one.

Eddie just looked at you, for a brief second there was some unreadable emotion there but it quickly turned to a smug grin. His arm swinging over the back of the couch, opening his legs as he crossed one over the other. “Aww you really think I’m hot sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer him. You’d be forever grateful to whoever just knocked on the door.

On the other side stood a man with fluffy, perfectly placed brown hair and a big smile. Even without the knowledge this man was an alpha, you’d know right away. From the protective arm around this girlfriend’s shoulders and the oozing confidence, this must be none other than Steve Harrington.

Which meant the cute redhead beside him must be Chrissy. She greeted you with a surprise, though not unwelcome, hug, “It’s so great to finally meet you. Eddie’s told us so much about you.”

“Really?” You looked back to Eddie who was uncharacteristically quiet. You decided to just file that in the back of your mind for now, “Come on in! We made popcorn and pizza should be here soon.” Robin had returned and gave Steve a hug. You couldn’t resist the urge to tease her once more, “I hope you don’t mind the mismatched bowls.”

The movie provided an anchor as you got better acquainted with these new friends. You learned that they met through work. Steve is a personal trainer and Chrissy teaches yoga at the community center. Steve was telling you the story of how his jaw literally dropped when Chrissy walked into his gym to inquire about offering classes there.

Your body language had naturally leaned in while listening to his story. You sat up a little straighter. Your arms braced against your knees as you gave Steve your full attention. Or at least tried to. The frequent twitches you caught from the corner of your eye kept distracting you. Finally you looked over and saw Eddie clenching his fists against his thighs.

You waited until Steve had finished to say something, “Eddie? Are you ok?”

His eyes were blown wide as he looked in your direction, “Hm? Yeah, I’m fine.” The white knuckles now braced against his chin and the point of his elbow digging into his leg said otherwise.

Steve spoke up before you could, “You sure man? You look like you’re ready to rip somebody’s head off.”

“I said I'm fine!” He snapped.

In an instant, the once friendly atmosphere turned sour and tense. No one really knew what to do. Everyone looked concerned. Searching for the cause of what had upset him. You however were feeling something very different. All you could think about was touching him. No, not touching, your brain supplied. Scenting.

You wanted nothing more right now than to nuzzle into his hair and neck. Somehow reassuring him that everything was ok.

Now your eyes were blown wide. Your brain all at once processed this intrusive thought. You knew it was nonsense. It must have come from your lessons during class today. Yeah that’s it. You were still just thinking about today's lecture during gender sciences because you shouldn’t be scenting. That’s something only done by alphas or—

“Who wants dessert?” You jumped up from the couch and headed into the kitchen. You heard footsteps behind you. Someone was following you. You didn’t need to turn and look thought. The sound of the footsteps, his smell, everything about him swirling around inside your very confused mind.

You opened the freezer and didn’t realize how much you needed the relief of a cool breeze. Standing there with the door open for a moment after grabbing the tub of ice cream felt incredible.

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice melted your insides. It sounded so soft and comforting, “Are you alright?”

You didn’t want to look at him for fear that just by making eye contact he would somehow know what you had wanted to do. Instead, you chuckled awkwardly and played it off, “Guess I’m just more tired than I thought.”

“No,” Eddie saw right through you, “I’ve seen you tired after a long day. That’s not what this is. Come here.”

Your mind and body were incapable of disobeying him. Even if you hadn’t wanted to, you turned on his command. Closing the freezer door and keeping your eyes locked with his feet.

He touched your forehead. Eddie had never touched you before. All the nights you spent wondering what the tips of his fingers felt like finally answered. They were calloused from playing guitar, the palm of his hand rough, most likely from his job. But nothing had ever felt more natural. It was fleeting thought because he pulled back already.

“Jesus Christ you’re burning up,” He went to the bathroom and returned the thermometer, “Holy shit 102?” He called for Robin.

She came running and you vaguely heard him telling her to go get medicine from the bathroom. He lifted your chin, “You are taking medicine and going right to bed. Do you understand me? No work or class tomorrow for you either.”

“But–”

“I think you should listen to him,” Robin said as she returned followed by Chrissy and Steve to check on you.

Standing became a labor. You braced yourself against the counter but Eddie caught you and lifted you into his arms. Robin opened the door for him as he carried you to your bed. Everything was starting to blur together. Somehow they made you take the medicine. You’re pretty sure Robin helped you change into some pajamas before you passed out on top of the comforter. That night you had your first dream of Eddie.

The next morning… afternoon? You weren’t sure until you blinked your eyes open. You felt awful. Your skin felt like it was on fire. If you were still running a fever that was not a sign. As soon as you summoned enough strength you ripped all your clothes off only to be horrified by what you felt on the bed beneath you. Your underwear, shorts and the top of the comforter were soaked. You brought your wet hand up to your face to inspect the source.

“Is that?” you spoke to the emptiness, “Slick?”

It should have been impossible. Everything you knew about biology was being thrown out the window and discarded to the wayside. Nothing made sense anymore. You had been and would always be a beta. And yet– your new and now ever present instincts told you otherwise. You were in heat.

Grasping at the shred of rationality that you regained, you tried to remember everything you’ve ever learned about heats. You knew a few things for certain. One, it was only a matter of time because you were lost to your desires and unable to think about anything except mating. Two, you needed food so that you didn’t have to leave your room again until it subsided. Last? Only omegas experience heats which means that only an alpha would truly make you feel better.

Tossing your wet clothing to the ground you wobbled naked like a newborn fawn towards your bedroom door. Dripping slick against your bare inner thighs as you tried to walk. You made it to the kitchen where, with fervent desperation, you dug through the cabinets for anything you could bring back with you. Then you went to Eddie’s room and without a second of hesitation opened the door. That was a horrible idea.

Where only the night before was just the scent of Eddie, now your brain was able to recognize it for what it was. Alpha.

Your knees buckled. It’s a miracle you didn’t fall over. Another rush of slick dripped from your aching hole. You didn’t have the luxury of considering whether he’d be upset that you were borrowing his clothes. You grabbed his leather jacket that he always wore outside of work from the bed and the few shirts that littered the floor. You could feel the fever returning. You needed to get back to your room.

—

Eddie didn’t want to leave you that morning. He peeked inside your bedroom before heading to work and you were sound asleep.

Robin had taken care of your obligations for you. She called your work and emailed your professors saying you’d be out for a few days with a fever.

Eddie knew he should just go back home because he wasn’t much use here today anyways. He’d already made a ton of mistakes thanks to his distracted brain.

“Munson!” Murray called to him from the office, “Come here boy!”

“Shit,” he tossed the rag in his hand and readied himself for an ass chewing.

Murray looked up from the desk, “What’s wrong with you today? You handed me an order form for the wrong part. You charged someone triple for a simple oil change and now I just watched you checking the engine on a car that was brought in for headlight repair.”

“Sorry sir, my roommate’s pretty sick right now and I guess I’m just a little worried about her,” a little worried was an understatement. Eddie was panicking that you, the absolute divine love and light of his life, were going to die in his absence.

He sighed, “Just go. Before I change my mind.”

Eddie tore at the buttons on his coveralls and nearly tripped trying to walk and take them off at the same time, “Thanks Murray!”

“You owe me!” was the last thing Eddie heard before he ran out.

He kicked the stand up on his motorcycle and got quite a few stares from people on the street and he hauled ass back to the apartment.

Normally he’d take the elevator up to your fourth floor apartment but in his mind his feet were faster and they’d carry him to you sooner. He was so focused on checking that you were still ok that he didn’t even feel winded after running up four flights of stairs.

He fumbled with his keys as he walked down the hallway. Then it hit him. He dropped the keys. They clattered loudly to his feet. He was still several doors down from yours and he could already smell it. He scrambled to pick them up and ran down the hallway.

His suspicions were confirmed as soon as he turned the key. That same sweetness that had greeted him everyday since the first time he opened that door to your smiling face, suffocated him. Though now it was a little different. It was sweeter. More you. Something he’d only ever dreamed of. An omega.

It got stronger with every step he took towards your room. He swallowed and failed to will away the hardness growing in his pants. All his hopes and dreams were answered when he pushed his way into your room. There on the bed in a very haphazardly constructed nest, naked, clinging to his jacket, surrounded by his clothes, and your brown stuffed bear, was you.

He inhaled deeply and could practically feel his pupils dilate with lust. You smelled so fucking good. He took another step and spoke quietly trying not to startle you, “Hey sweetheart.”

—

It hurt so bad. The ache between your thighs only worsened as you curled into the small nest you’d surrounded yourself with. The underwear you’d stolen from Eddie lost its scent long ago but you still pulled it out and threw it in the pile. The few items you were able to grab from his room were a mere wooden board in the dam against the rushing river that threatened to drown you at any moment.

You didn’t hear the front door open.

Your senses became more clouded with each passing minute. You clung for dear life to Eddie’s leather jacket but it betrayed you as it started to cling back now that it was damp with your sweat.

The click of your bedroom door knob alerted you and brought you back. Maybe it wasn’t the door. Maybe it was the smell or the sound of his voice as he spoke to you. You lifted your head and couldn’t stop the tears when you saw Eddie standing there at the foot of your bed.

“A-alpha? It hurts,”

Something awoke within Eddie. The deepest part of himself he’d never been able to fully satisfy. All those ruts spent uselessly humping into his hand or a pillow. “Again,” He growled, “Say it again little one!”

Your eyes pleaded with him as you whined, “A-alpha?” You pressed the jacked to your chest. How was he here? He was supposed to be working. Your fever must have taken over you and you were starting to hallucinate, “F-fuck, alpha, need you. Are you really here?”

The bed shifted, “I know, I know. I’m here now, sweet omega. I’m here.” He laid behind you and wrapped his long arms around you. “‘m so sorry I left sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere now.”

His presence eased the ache a bit. He rubbed your neck with his hand and whispered in your ear, “You smell so good, could smell you from the hallway.”

He felt you shudder with panic, “R-really?”

“Shh! No, don't worry. I locked the door and only other alphas or omegas would be able to smell it,” he leaned in closer, “Can I kiss you? It might help you feel better.”

You nodded but didn’t feel anything on your lips. He kissed your neck. Sparks of pure pleasure shot through your body. You whimpered helpless against the feeling, “Fuck more Eddie! More! Kiss me more, please!”

He couldn’t deny that his heart had wanted to hear those words since he first laid eyes on you but he knew it was just the heat talking. He also knew if he started he wouldn’t be able to stop, “I want to more than you know princess but, I don’t want you to hate me when you're more lucid.”

His kiss had breathed new life into you and gave you the energy to turn to face him, “I’d never hate you Eddie.” You reached into the piled up fabric that you had built up around you and pulled out the green plaid boxers, “D’you lose something?” you could feel your speech slurring.

“D-did you take my underwear?” his fingers curled and tickled against you lightly drawing out little giggles.

You grinned up at him with glassy eyes, “Sure did. Sniffed ‘em too.”

His palm came to rest on your hip and he ran his fingers up the curve of your waist. Then back down again. Savoring every dip, ridge, and shape your body created as it lay before him, “Did they help you feel better?”

“Nuh uh,” he was misunderstanding, “I took these a while ago. So see? Wouldn’t hate you. Want you.”

He kissed you again, on the lips this time, “I want you too. Shit, you taste so good. I wonder how you taste other places.”

He pressed his elbow up, giving him leverage to sit up and tear his shirt off. Next he was up hovering over you on his knees. You watched him, taking in every single one of his movements. He unzipped his pants and slid them down his hips. His thick length was barely contained by the fabric of his boxers. He was less than graceful as he shook them off.

He straddled your legs and lowered himself towards your neck again, so close to your skin that his chest grazed your exposed nipples as he turned you to rest on your back beneath him. His mouth was in your ear whispering, “I can see it in your eyes sweetheart, the heat is getting worse. Can you tell me what you need before that smart ass brain of yours is just mush, begging for my knot?”

“F-fuck me Eddie,” you looked up at him and knew even in your current state that your words had affected him. “P-please.”

“That’s all I needed to hear sweetheart,” he kissed you again. First on the lips. Devouring your moans, wet noises growing as you felt yourself drooling into him because of how good he tasted. Your slick lips gliding against his. He moved lower onto your neck and kissed the crook just above your shoulder, “This might be a little sensitive here but I promise it’ll feel good.” He sucked on your skin and in that instant you were writhing.

“Ah! A-alpha,” somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind you knew that he was sucking on the spot that both of your latent instincts told you was where he should bite down and bond himself to you. Where if he gave into his desires and bit down just a little harder you’d forever be his and only his. Bearing his mating mark for the world to see. As he continued sucking with just his lips and licking with his tongue that was suddenly all you ever wanted, “Mate me alpha! All yours, please!”

He puffed out his chest. His shoulders flexed. The muscles in his back tightened as he growled again into your neck. Straining to fight off every instinct that told him to give you what you wanted. His hand gripped the wooden frame of your bed so tightly you heard the wood begin to splinter and crack. “Maybe after your heat sweetheart. Such a good girl, my sweet little omega, all these big new feelings. Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Throwing your head back you let the dam break, “N-need your knot alpha, Hurts. Make it stop.”

“You’re not quite ready for my knot yet baby. Gotta make sure I don’t hurt you.”

But you were an omega? That’s literally what your body was made for, why couldn’t you take him? First he wouldn’t mate you and now he won’t knot you? Were you a bad omega? He sensed your distress in the subtle change in your scent. He buried his face into your neck again, surrounding you with himself.

“You’re not bad! No no,” you didn’t even realize you’d said that out loud. He continued to soothe you, “It's just…I’ve never knotted anyone before and I don’t want to hurt you.”

You brought your hands up to his chest and touched him everywhere your fingers could reach, “Won’t hurt me. I know. Too gentle.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of you. The weight of his body pressing into nearly every surface of your skin was intoxicating. Grounding you with his scent and his very presence. You’d pulled him into the perfect position to nuzzle into his neck and hair, kissing the same spot that he has just assaulted on you with his tongue. A warm feeling bubbled in your gut. This was different from the warmth of the heat. Then a sound hit both of your ears.

A sound that gave both of you delighted pause. The little noise that escaped your throat was somewhere between a whimper and a moan but something so uniquely omega. Eddie had never heard a more beautiful sound. You were purring.

He let you keep going but whispered into your ear, “You’re fucking perfect you know that?” you purred louder, “I’m going to make you come with my fingers and then I’ll give you my knot, ok?”

“Yes alpha! Thank you,” you whined as he pulled away but his hands never stopped touching you. He made his way down to the drenched area between your thighs.

“You look so beautiful for me sweetheart, you’re fucking soaked,” he moaned as his fingers began toying with your wetness and dipping in between the folds of your pussy. You encouraged him with all the moans and whines he could ever hope to hear. As soon as he deemed you thoroughly worked up, he finally slipped a finger in, quickly followed by another. They worked together pumping in and out fluidly, curling inside you, pressing all the right buttons. You wanted to thank him but all that would come out was broken bits and pieces of alpha and his name.

His hair brushed lightly against your inner thighs, sending shivers through your core as he lowered his head down. He spoke with a low hum right into your entrance, “You’re close. I can feel it. Let go for me sweet omega. I’ll take good care of you.”

One more curl of his fingers hitting that delicious soft spongy spot inside you had you screaming and convulsing as slick rushed out into his hand and surely getting some on his face. His fingers pulled out and were replaced with something wet and soft. You could feel his nose nudging at your aching clit as he licked up all your wetness with his tongue. It slid up from the hole and flicked your clit over and over again causing the muscles in your calf to twitch.

“K-knot alpha! Knot please, ‘m ready. So empty, hurts!”

He sucked on your clit before pulling away and lifted to release his throbbing cock from his boxers. You looked up at it, marveling at how impressive his length looked. The tip swollen and aching for you just as you ached for him. The shaft veins pulsed as he pumped himself with his wet hand, covering it in your scent and juices. The base just barely began to flare out as his knot already started to swell. He lined up the tip with your begging cunt and teased you as much as his self control would allow before slowly and carefully pressing all the way inside.

You cried out for him, “So good! More, more, more! Move alpha please!”

He couldn’t hold back anymore. Feeling his cock sheathed inside his omega’s pussy was too much. He began fucking into you with reckless abandon, each thrust hitting deep within your body, catching ever so slightly as his knot continued to swell. He grunted loudly, “Fuck! “M’gonna fill you up so good little omega. Gonna breed this beautiful pussy,” his instincts were now fully in control. His mind became almost as clouded as yours with nothing but want and desire to fulfill the purpose of your heat, “You’ll look so good knocked up sweetheart. Tits all big and heavy. My omega, mine!”

You echoed him, “Yours alpha! All yours! Breed me, wanna carry your baby! Please, please please,” you cries became so desperate and emotional as you begged and pleaded for him to give you something you’d wanted as long as you could remember. Tears fell from your tired eyes, “Make me a mommy alpha!”

“Yeah?” he looked down at you. Beads of sweat from his constant thrusting formed on his forehead. His bangs curled and swooshed out in every direction, “Beg for my knot again omega, tell me how much you want it!”

Your body was jostling up and down from his thick cock fucking into you harder and harder. Your senses became overwhelmed with the feeling of your alpha’s cock, his scent, his words, his love all around you. You could feel how much bigger his knot had gotten, your voice was wrecked, “Knot alpha, need it, knot me!”

Eddie came with a loud growl. You’d never felt so full. Your walls pulsated around him as you came again. He slammed his knot deep inside you, locking you together with him, forming a connection that as you floated down from your orgasm fully took shape in your mind.

“Eddie?” you looked into his warm brown eyes, “Th-thank–”

“Shh, we can talk later baby. Rest while you can,” he held a finger to your lips, “Once my knot goes down I’ll get you some water and something to eat. You’ll need it again soon so we both need to rest.”

Being locked together with him felt so right but it limited your movement. Twisting your torso you looked around the nest for the box of granola bars you’d grabbed earlier, “I,” words were still hard and your breath was labored, “box here somewhere.”

He looked around and spotted the corner of the box on the floor. He pictured what you must have done when you realized what was happening to you, knowing what you’d need, “You did such a good job. Now it’s my turn, we’ve got a long few days ahead of us. My first rut lasted three days.”

You chuckled, eyes closed, a blissful fucked out smile on your lips, “W-we might need more food.”

“I’m not leaving you again, I’ll have Rob drop some stuff off.”

You didn’t talk anymore after that. In fact you fell asleep with his knot still inside you. He kissed your forehead before pulling out when it finally went down, “Sleep my little omega.” He left the nest just long enough to text Robin and his boss, updating them and then curled up behind you, rubbing his face into your neck again. Picturing how good your throat would look with his mating mark on it before falling asleep beside you.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #Alpha Eddie Munson #omega reader #Alpha Eddie x Omega Reader #omegaverse

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tieronecrush · 1 year

Text

cool about it

joel miller x f!reader

(part II of water in your hands)

rating: E (18+ ONLY, MDNI)

word count: 14k (i'm sorry, please grab a snack or some water or read it in stages!!)

summary: I'm trying to be cool about it / Feelin' like an absolute fool about it / Wishin' you were kind enough to be cruel about it

You and Joel have been together secretly for months now, sneaking around behind his wife’s back. He hasn’t made a move to break it off with her, and at this point, you aren’t sure if he ever will. That is until he’s forced to face his problems, and you’re left with all the guilt.

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, adultery/infidelity, marriage, age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is 20s/30s), use of pet names, mentions of water/drowning, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), one instance of spitting/drooling, praising, undefined relationship turned committed relationship, slightly possessive joel & reader, alcohol use, ANGST, hurt/comfort, separation, degrading language (homewrecker, slut, mistress, etc.), self-deprecation/insecurity

series spotify playlist / apple music

a/n: thank you to everyone who requested a part 2!! i really love these two even though i make them suffer BUT i would LOOOVE to write some more little stories for them so drop any requests in my inbox! i don’t wanna say goodbye to them just yet :(

dividers from @saradika

It was a rare occurrence for your shift to line up with Joel’s. Lately, he’d be working early mornings or overnights, and you would be afternoons or evenings at the bar. Today, however, is a gift from the universe. He’d been assigned a handful of shifts that ended in the afternoon, and for some reason, Tommy scheduled you early to come deep clean and organize the back bar and stock room for the Tipsy Bison. Joel and you could see each other in the light of day, for maybe only the sixth or seventh time in the months that you have been sneaking around with each other.

He walks straight into the unlocked doors of the bar, an eager grin on the side of his face when he sees you. He beelines for you as you stand in front of the counter, wiping it down.

“Mmm, been thinkin’ about you my whole shift, sugar. Even got a little distracted with you on my mind - got yelled at to keep it moving at one point,” his voice is a little hoarse from booking it over here from the stables, slightly sweaty arms wrapping around your waist and flexing as they squeeze you tight and turn you around, “Was just itchin’ to get over here.”

His lips find that spot under your ear that sends goosebumps over your skin every time, a playful smirk pulling the corners of your mouth up. Your hands rest against the plaid flannel covering his arms, the added warmth necessary for the early spring weather. It reminds you of what he’d been wearing a year ago when he’d started settling into Jackson; sleeves rolled up to show off the delicious veins that bulge when he was working hard. The thought gets you a little light-headed and you take a quick breath to calm your racing mind.

“Well, can’t blame me for you being horny. Gotta keep it in your pants on patrol, sir.” Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes shine with a tease as you watch Joel’s eyebrows shoot up keenly at your statement and the polite title.

“I think I can blame you. ‘Specially when you’re the one calling me sir.” His eyes darken with hunger - and the knowledge that you’re going to be the one to satiate it. His arms loosen from their tight hold around your waist, large hands skimming down your back to grab at the cushion of your ass greedily.

“Did you only come to get something from me, Miller? I think I should be offended that you didn’t just want to visit me.”

“Oh, darlin’, y’know I came here to just get a glimpse of that pretty face to keep me going for the day. But then I got one look at you, and you just always do somethin’ to me. Can’t ever get enough of you.” His lips attach to the notch where your jaw meets your neck, teeth grazing skin as he works his mouth down to your collar. He hooks two fingers in your shirt there, pulling it back to reveal the blossoming purple mark that he had left the other night when the two of you were glued to each other in your bed. It was his parting gift as the sun rose, the usual warning sign for him to get back home.

“Can I give you another, sweet girl? Or maybe a couple? And you can wear one of those cute little tank tops next shift. Gotta let those gawking boys know you belong to someone.” His low, syrupy twang sends humidity across your exposed skin. Your head tilts back involuntarily, hands gripping his forearms that rest against your hips, his hands still palming your ass.

“You can give me as many as you want. Just wish I could you some.” Your gaze moves down to meet Joel’s eyes, the slightest pout on your face that pulls him away from your collarbone. He looks at you tenderly, one hand leaving your backside to brush your hair back from your face with care.

“I know, darlin’. I wish you could, too.” His thumb rubs against one of your cheekbones, and your eyes close to focus on the touch and feel the weight of his words. He still hasn’t told you those three words that you give him all the time, still never crossing that line.

The cool metal of his wedding band stings your face when he slips his hand down your cheek and along the nape of your neck as if the universe was sending you a quick reminder about who he was promised to.

“You wanna get out of here, sweet girl? We’ve got a few hours just to ourselves.” Your eyes open again at the sound of his voice, a soft smile spreading his lips as he speaks. He gets a mischievous glint in his eye, eyebrows wagging as his large hands slip into the back pockets of your jeans, giving one strong squeeze.

“Maybe we can have a little afternoon delight? Hmm?” He looks genuinely pleased with his cheeky suggestion, and you can’t help but chortle at the horny teenager energy he’s got.

“Play your cards right, Miller, and maybe you can have a little treat.” You wink at him, opening your mouth again to send another quip, only to be taken by surprise as he captures your lips in a fervent kiss. His tongue licks into your mouth, your front pressing tightly against his to the point where you can feel him half-hard against your thigh.

You pull away from the heated kiss, tsking quietly as you pull his hands off of you.

“We won’t ever make it out of here if you keep that up. And that isn’t ideal for either of us.”

Joel groans, the end of the sound hitching up into a soft whine.

“Fine, fine. You’re right. But I can’t fucking wait any longer. Been waiting all morning…” He trails off in thought, his eyes lighting up with an idea.

“Just come to mine. It’s closer.”

“Yeah, by only like 100 feet, Joel. And what if Heather’s home, hmm? How are you gonna explain your hard dick and me likely bent over whatever surface is closest to the front door?” Your arms cross over your front, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“She’s teaching today. She’ll be at school all afternoon. C’mon, it’ll be fine. Never get to have you in my bed.”

It’s not just your bed, you think to yourself. Your stomach turns a bit at the not-so-friendly reminder from your conscience. Your eyes flick down to the ring on his left hand, a sigh escaping as you study the shine of the metal before meeting his eyes once more. You could see the eagerness in them, the want. He wasn’t going to let it go, and you knew if you kept arguing it would end up with him propositioning that it’s either here in the bar or the privacy of his house.

“Okay. We’ll go to yours. But it’d better be a quick one.”

Joel smirks devilishly, hands grabbing at your body. He pulls you away from the counter, fishing out his house keys from the front pocket of his jeans.

“You’re gonna be changing that tune once I get you inside, darlin’. Gonna want to take your time.”

Decision made, Joel left out of the bar first to get a head start back home. Finishing up with your last tasks quickly, you closed up and started down your shared street, sending friendly waves to neighbors as you made your way. You came up with an excuse in your head as to why you were walking up to Joel’s door, just in case an overly curious bystander wanted to be nosy.

You send three quick knocks against the wood, peering in through the small glass windows in the door to see Joel making his way over from the kitchen. He grins sweetly when he opens the door, inviting you in. To an outsider, it all seemed to be a perfectly normal, neighborly exchange. Perhaps you were going to catch up over coffee or Joel was helping you out by getting you a tool to borrow.

Little do they know what he was really about to give you.

It was an awkward exchange at first, Joel stumbling around his words as he gave you a sort-of tour while leading you upstairs. You’d been in his house before, invited in by Ellie when she needed help with a gardening project for school and she’d come to you for advice based on the flora in your front lawn. You’d even been there when he and his wife were there, canoodling on the couch. It stung, seeing him laughing and holding her close. Nearly made you snap the pencil you were holding in your hand as you read over Ellie’s project plan.

But now you were here, alone, and he wanted you in his own bed. Their bed. Their literal marital bed.

It gave you a rush of anxiety as he pushed open the door to the room, turning towards you as you give the space a once over. You ignored the touches of her in the room — the throw pillows around the bed, the perfume on the dresser vanity, and clothes hanging slightly out of the hamper. Instead, you focus on the little details of him that you were finally privy to.

A novel on his nightstand, The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemmingway, the small ceramic dish that he now discards his wedding ring in, the owl mug that holds his morning coffee, smatterings of clothes around his side of the room. It all feels very comfortable, reminding you of pieces that you get of him in your own space. These touches of him give you a sense of home and safety; it all feels very Joel.

He pulls you out of your observations, your eyes meeting his lustful gaze. He towers over you, hands holding the sides of your jaw to tilt your head back. He slants his lips against yours, a light kiss turning salacious with want. Your hands find the waistband of his jeans, tugging lightly while his tongue dances with yours. Soft moans escape with the breaths you both take, and he peels away from your lips to pull your t-shirt over your head, mouth attacking your collarbone to leave more marks as he had promised earlier. Your head tilts, eyes opening for a split second when he bites a bit harder. His tongue soothes the nip, but you still feel the tinge of pain when your eyes lock onto the lacy panties haphazardly discarded near the hamper. You can’t look away, bile burning your throat as your mind gives you an image of the two of them together, of Joel enjoying anyone but you. The thought of those not belonging to you and being for him makes jealousy canker across your heart. A new determination is shocked through you - you want to give him a memory of you being the one pleasing him in this room, for him to think about whenever he has his wife in the same position. You wanted him to be moaning your name, praising you, being under your spell, even for a moment.

Pressing your hands against his strong chest, you push him back with a step. His head shoots up from your collar with surprise, a little smirk pulling at his lips. His eyebrows raise in question as you push him to the end of the bed, hands gripping his broad shoulders and maneuvering him to sit. Eager hands find your hips, grazing over to your ass as he looks up at you standing over him.

“Whatcha wanna do, baby? You wanna ride me, hmm?” His voice is lecherous, dripping with desire and satisfaction over you taking some control.

You shake your head at him, bending down in just your bra to pop open the button of his jeans and slide the zipper down as it strains against his bulge. He buries his face in the exposed skin of your breasts that are now eye level, humming contently.

He lets you work his jeans down to his mid-thighs, cock springing free. He still never bothered with underwear most of the time despite the slow, normal life he’d adjusted to in Jackson.

You keep eye contact as you kneel in front of him, his keen stare unblinking as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. You settle in front of him between his legs, hand wrapping around him and stroking slowly. He looked down at you with hooded eyes, mouth opening in a small gasp at the languid stimulation. A rush of saliva floods your mouth at the thought of tasting the beads of pre-cum that were starting to trickle out of his swelling length.

Giving into your bodily reactions, you lean in and press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the soft skin. Your thumb brushes against his tip, a hiss of pleasure sounding from above. One of Joel’s hands finds the back of your head, tangling fingers into your hair. He doesn’t move to guide you, simply wanting to touch a part of you.

Your free hand gently cups his balls as you press a featherlight kiss to the tip of his hard cock. A kitten-lick swipes up the dribbles of pre-cum that have collected and Joel’s fingers tense against your strands. You hum satisfied with the reactions you’re drawing from him, looking up to see splotches of redness growing across his cheeks and neck at the frustration. He groans out your name as your mouth works to tease him more, not having taken him fully in.

“Fucking hell, baby, quit teasin’.” Joel rasps as he watches your methodical seduction. He applies the smallest pressure against the back of your head when your lips finally wrap around just the tip of him, a moan of relief rolling from his chest.

Your eyes stay glued on his face, relishing in every response that he’s having to your mouth working him. Your head starts a slow bob up and down, growing wet at the weight of him on your tongue. You focus on half of him with your mouth, your hand working what isn’t inside. His noises grow louder and in quicker succession, his cheeks visibly warm and eyes dark with a craving when he looks down at you again.

“Such a sweet girl. Look so pretty with my cock in your little mouth. Think you can take more, baby? Think I can fit in your throat?” His words flood your panties, feeling the fabric stick uncomfortably against you. You shift in your position slightly, a sigh exhaling as your thighs rub together to relieve some of your ache.

The rhythm of your head brings his cock deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. You swallow around him and it squeezes him just right, a loud moan coming from him above you. He loses some of his composure, the large hand at the back of your head pushing him down your throat further and causing you to gag. Tears spill from your eyes and spit drips from the sides of your mouth, the blow job quickly turning sloppy as Joel takes more control.

“Fucking hell, darlin’. Taking me so well on your own, being such a good girl for me. You gonna let me fuck your mouth?”

The two of you are tunnel-visioned on each other, with no thoughts in your head except for getting Joel to come down your throat and no thoughts in his other than the sight of you taking his cock in your mouth. Had the two of you sensed anything happening in the house, it might have saved you.

Heather, Joel’s wife, returned home on her lunch break, hoping to run into her husband when she grabbed something to eat quickly. She heard the familiar timbre of Joel’s voice coming from upstairs, not making out any words at first. She climbed the stairs, the sound becoming clearer. Joel was definitely there, but he wasn’t alone. Wet sounds accompanied his pleasured moans, her ears perking up when she stands next to the closed door and hears him ask to fuck the mouth of whoever he’s with. Rage burns, the handle twisting and the door flying open. She’s greeted with you kneeling in front of Joel, his eyes trained on you with a lustful tenderness, mouth agape in awe.

The sound of the door smacking against the wall brings Joel’s attention away from the way you're taking the slow thrusts of his hips as he fucks your face. Immediately, he sees his wife standing in the doorway, shock, anger, and betrayal evident in her expression. His stomach rolls with anxiety, working quickly to push you off of him gently, tossing the throw blanket from the end of the bed in your direction to cover up. He scrambles to shove his still-hard dick back into his jeans and zips them up quickly, hands shamefully covering the bulge as he stands.

His mouth opens to try to excuse the pornographic sight that his wife’s just witnessed, but his brain is coming up empty. His eyes just shoot back and forth between the woman in the doorway wearing his ring and you, standing up from your knees with the blanket around your shoulders and a look of panic in your eyes. His hand twitches to reach for you, to comfort you, and his heart cracks at the glossiness in your eyes when you turn away from him.

The only sound to come is from his wife, her voice flat and resolute as she speaks directly to you.

“Please, get your shirt back on and go home.” She’s calm and resolute, with no malice in her voice as she demands you from her home. You oblige willingly and quickly, grabbing your top from the floor and slipping it over your head. You discard the blanket politely back on the bed, making eye contact with Joel one last burning time before turning to scurry out and back to your place across the street like a reprimanded child. Tears sting your eyes as you exit, the insides of you feeling like a storm at sea, uncertainty of what happens next for you and Joel thrashing around in your gut.

Back inside their shared home, Joel is still at the end of the bed. The situation has shriveled his arousal, the bulge in his jeans no more as his wife stares him down with indignance. She turns on her heel, a silent command for him to follow her as she makes her way downstairs. He climbs down the stairs petulantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for her to start screaming at him. He can’t find the energy to fight back if she does; he’d take it if it finally freed him of the mess that was his own creation.

Heather motions for him to sit in one of the wooden kitchen chairs; she leans back against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest. He plops down into the hard seat, a quiet sigh exhaled as he leans back, bracing himself for what is bound to ensue.

“Was this the first time?” Heather asks, voice steady, composed. Her eyes finally look at him, nothing given away from the empty stare in them.

He thinks about lying to spare her feelings, but the thought of continuing to suffer through sneaking around to be with you guides him into an honest answer. He’s going to give her the whole truth.

“No. No, this wasn’t the first time.”

“How long?”

He hesitates, the truth burning his throat as he prepares to confess that he’s never been a faithful husband, not when it came to you.

“Since the week after we got married.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel. Are you fucking kidding?”

He shakes his head, bowing it in shame as he continues his attempted repentance.

“I’m sorry. I know it probably means nothing to you, but I am sorry that I put you in this situation…We met when Ellie and I first stopped in Jackson to find Tommy. Before we went to, uh…I couldn’t stop thinking about her. But I didn’t think that I was good for her; I’m older, I have so much shit that I’ve done, and I didn’t think I could give her the life she wanted. When I came back, I tried to stay away. But when I saw her, I couldn’t help but be drawn to her. It was like a fucking magnet or gravitational pull. And well, eventually, I broke all my resolve. We slept together, out in the field behind the storage barn. I felt so fucking guilty afterward that I ignored her, for months. And, uh, I asked Tommy to set me up. Which is when I met you,” he interrupts his speech with a deep breath as he continues his full confessional, each sentence he speaks feeling like a brick being broken down from his walls.

“And I thought that if I made the decision to move on, to date, to get married, that we would both get over each other. I am so sorry that I did this to you. I just thought that you were a nice woman, you weren’t looking for anything really since you’d lived your life with your husband before. It was easy for me. Selfish, and easier than facing reality. But, when I went to check on her after she didn’t show up to work all week after we’d gotten married, we slept together again. And we kept meeting up in secret, having an affair. Have been for months.”

Heather continues her empty, faraway stare as she processes everything Joel’s just laid out in front of her. Silence falls over the room as he gives her time to formulate a response.

“Do you love her?”

That surprises him. Did she actually ask that? Is this the part where she screams and cries and shows her anger? His head shoots up from its hanging position and hands clasp together between his knees as he keeps eye contact with his wife across the room. He thinks back on all of the time you spent together and finally comes to admit what he’s known since that first conversation.

His voice breaks as he speaks, thick with the emotion that the first time he’s saying this is to the completely wrong person, “Yeah. I love her. With everything I have. I’d do anything for her.”

Heather nods shortly, arms uncrossing and dropping to her sides. She looks around the room, her brain working as she thinks about what to do.

“Okay. I’ll make it easy for you then. I’m leaving. We’re separating, since we were never legally married in the first place. If you can give me tonight, I’ll be out tomorrow. Just, I don’t know, ask Ellie to sleepover at Dina’s and spend the night at Tommy’s or at hers, I don’t really give a shit. Don’t come back until the morning, please.”

“I won’t. I’ll do whatever you need me to. I’m sorry again, Heather. I shouldn’t have made such a stupid, selfish decision.” Joel’s filled with genuine remorse, anguish flooding his gut about how to move forward from this.

She looks at him with pity, then her eyes move to the window in the direction of your house.

“It was selfish. And not just towards me.”

At that, she walks away from the kitchen and upstairs to start packing. Joel takes this as his moment to leave, wandering to go find Ellie to tell her to spend the night at Dina’s. He thinks about going to Tommy’s, to tell him everything even though Joel’s sure that he already knows. Instead, he continues to wander, not quite ready to face you and tell you what he’s been too foolish to admit to himself.

Taps sound softly against your front door, three quick and one lingering - Joel’s signature knock. The nerves tossing in your stomach ease at the thought of him being near again, only to wash right back when you open the door. It’s a split second that you see the heartache in his expression before he’s smiling with tender sympathy, but it sticks in your mind. Did he want to stay married that badly? Was this all just fun for him? Just an affair?

The thoughts tamper in your mind when he steps inside the entryway, brawny hands cupping your cheeks to study your eyes before they drop to your waist and wrap his arms around you in a secure embrace. His gentleness is enough to bring tears back to your eyes, some spilling over as he tucks his head into your neck and takes deep, shaky breaths. One of your hands caresses the back of his head, the other holding tightly to his bicep to keep him close. Nothing is said for minutes, the two of you standing there with the front door wide open.

It’s only when you hear his sniffle muffled against your neck, your immediate reaction is to hold him close and rasp out, “Oh, Joel…It’s okay. We’ll figure it out if you have to stay -- if it’s easier to…” You can’t bare to finish the sentence - if he had to stay with her, if he wanted to stay, you knew you couldn’t last.

He pulls out of the crook of your shoulder, glossy eyes meeting yours with deep contrite behind them. He shakes his head slowly, calloused fingers tracing along your jaw before cradling your cheek. You can see in his eyes the moment his heart breaks just a fraction more, and you’re convinced the next thing out of his mouth is going to be that he has to leave you, for good.

“Darlin’, no. That’s not why - I’m not - Shit, I’ve really messed this up.” He turns away from your stare, your anxiousness returning tenfold with this reaction. He takes your hand, shuts your front door gently, and guides you over to the sofa.

He sits first, delicately handling you into the spot next to him. He cheats his body towards you, hands intertwining with yours. You look down at his larger ones encompassing yours, placed together in your lap. His thumbs soothe your skin, lulling the tightness in your chest to relax some with the comfort of his touch.

“Look at me, sweet girl.”

His croony voice pulls your attention away, following the tender command. The twang of his voice is coming out more with his emotion and it tugs your heart that you only get to hear it at its purest when he’s upset.

“Did you think I was coming here to tell you I was staying with her?”

The directness of the question steals the air from your lungs, your mouth agape when you scramble to try to cover up the clearly obvious thoughts you were having. It was as if he was inside your head, and at this moment, you didn’t necessarily appreciate how vulnerable it made you feel. He takes your silence as an answer, nodding to himself while he murmurs under his breath. Joel takes a deep breath before his gaze locks on yours.

“She’s leaving me. I told her the whole truth. And now I’m here to tell you all of the truth that I told her. It’s the least that you deserve.”

His eyes have glossed over again, no tears daring to spill out -- he’s trying to keep it all in, but you can see his emotion despite his best efforts. You’ve never seen Joel this unguarded, and it breaks your heart that he’s feeling this pain. You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to tell you anything, that he doesn’t owe you anything. But you also don’t want to close him off again, to brush this all under the rug.

“I don’t want anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. I knew from that first conversation with you. That beautiful damn smile did me in the second I saw it. Hell, I’m pretty sure even Tommy and Ellie knew from that moment. I was so scared. I didn’t want to ever fail you, so I didn’t even give myself the chance to try…But I wanna try now. Completely. No more hiding, no more secrets. Just us. I love you, darlin’. Been in love with you for ages, I just couldn’t pull my head out of my ass long enough to say it to you.”

A jolt of adrenaline is shot through your body, jitters lightening your limbs as your heart beats faster. The words that you have been waiting for, dreaming of, just said so matter-of-factly by him. It feels like a figment of your imagination, so unbelievable to you at this moment that your hands reach for his chest, checking to make sure he’s really there.

A light chuckle leaves his mouth, his hands coming up to lay over yours, holding them against his pounding heartbeat. Once you believe that he’s really there, your eyes trace up from his chest. Pure affection oozes out of his brown eyes, the tiniest smile tugging the corners of his lips as he awaits your response.

You realize it’s been silent for a minute, the surprise of this conversation stealing your words. Hands press harder into his strong sternum, weight supported by him as you shift to kneel over him. You lean down and slant your mouth against his in a ghostly kiss. His mouth chases yours when you pull your head back, eyes locked into each other’s when you finally respond before kissing him passionately.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to realize that.”

It’s been a few weeks since that afternoon. Heather completely moved out of Joel’s, leaving the house with just him and Ellie again. He’s told Ellie, not the full extent of everything that’s happened because she’s only fifteen, but that he and Heather are separated and that the two of you are together. He knows she’s not naive, especially after all that she’s been through, but he couldn’t really find the courage to face her and tell her the whole truth about his stupidity. So, the rest of the gaps are to be filled in by inference or imagination.

He’s told Tommy the whole truth, though. Another reason for Maria to dislike him, especially because she was friendly with his now ex-wife. Tommy is his brother, at the end of the day, and despite him not condoning Joel’s actions over the last year, he’s said that he can’t help but feel relieved that this can all be put behind them. And that his brother, and you, his close friend, can be happy together.

Joel’s asked you to move in about four times now. Each time he asks, he knows the answer, but he can’t help but try again in the slight chance that it’s changed. You always tell him that you will, eventually, but you don’t think it’s the best idea right now. Especially with all of the shit that you have been getting that Joel seems to be ignoring.

Time passing means it’s also been a few weeks since you and Joel have been able to be around each other publicly. To express your affection, hold hands, kiss. It all feels so foreign - like you still have the risk of being caught when people look at the two of you. It doesn’t help with the glares or dirty looks you get from some people of Jackson. It festers the growing mold of insecurity in you, feeling the guilt of breaking up a marriage, even a loveless one.

The worst instances have been when you’ve been at work and Joel stops in, either on his own or with Tommy and some patrol guys. Nothing has changed from his routine before, but now he doesn’t have to hide his reactions to your hands brushing when you pass him a drink or wait around all night just to be able to kiss you and walk you home.

Joel’s handsy, to say the least. Especially with a drink or two in him. He’s constantly running a hand down your side or to your ass when you bring over a tray of drinks to the high-top table he and his buddies are at. Or he’s leaning over the counter to grab a kiss from you when you drop a glass of whiskey in front of him. He’s even gotten to a point where he was tipsy enough to climb behind the bar in the opening at the end, stealthily creeping up behind you as you organize glasses to wrap himself around you and give you a sloppy kiss. He’s cheered on by his cohort and all but chased out from behind the bar by his brother who grumbles annoyances as Joel shoots a cheeky wink in your direction.

All of his displays make you smile, and you haven’t been happier to finally have Joel to yourself and for everyone to know just how in love with you he is. But, it hasn’t made it any easier when you hear all of the nasty things said about you.

The worst of it comes one night when you’re working. Joel’s been put on an evening patrol shift, but he’d promised to swing by the Tipsy Bison to pick you up and take you back to his to spend the night.

Most of the shift comes and goes uneventfully - some friends stop in and keep you entertained for a few hours, the music playing not making you want to bang your head against the wall. Tommy’s working with you tonight, having taken some time off of patrol to help out more around the house and with his now one-year-old son. He approaches you at the bar polishing glasses, nodding to a group of women around a table that are on their fourth or fifth round of the night.

“Think you can take the next round over to them for me? Really gotta take a piss.” You laugh at Tommy’s excuse, nodding and taking the order from him.

“You could just ask, y’know. Didn’t need the extra information.” He rolls his eyes and quickly jets off to the bathrooms. You prepare the cocktails and grab the two beers from the fridge, arranging everything on a tray to make your way over to the ladies.

About three paces away, you tune into their conversation and your stomach sinks to your feet.

“Can you believe that she can still show her face around here? I would be holed up in my house if I were her.”

“She probably feels great about herself. I bet she’s going after the other brother now, have you seen them joking around all night with each other? She’s basically throwing herself at him. What a slut.”

“I think I’ll actually feel bad for Joel if that happens. But, you know what they say, once a homewrecker, always a homewrecker.”

“She probably gets off on being the mistress or something. Adds the excitement since she’s probably gotten fucked every which way at this point in her life.”

Tears prick your eyes and you blink them away, steel expression as you close in on the table. You stay silent as you deposit the drinks on the surface, turning away with the tray under your arm only to hear one of them shout after you.

“Homewrecking whore!”

They dissolve into cackles, the tables around them all now talking in hushed tones as they stare at you. The burn of humiliation creeps up your neck, watery eyes bubbling over. Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break, you’re already pathetic enough right now without them seeing your face. Your legs book it into the bathroom after throwing the drink tray onto the counter, the black plastic skidding to a stop in front of the younger Miller.

Tommy’s heard what was shouted, the bullies snickering away and satisfied. Anger bites in his throat and he holds back from shouting across the room. Instead, he saunters over and starts picking up the nearly full drinks onto the tray again, the group staring at him incredulously.

“Excuse me, we’re drinking those?”

He simply shakes his head, smiling politely at them.

“Nah, you’re leaving. Now. And you’re gonna stop harassing people if you wanna come back.”

At that he walks away, dumping the drinks in the back bar sink and watching the group exit in a huff.

When you come out of the bathroom puffy-eyed and see the empty table, the thought occurs to you that Tommy must have said something. You give him an appreciative smile, and he says nothing more of it for the rest of the shift.

Your mind continues to replay all of the horrible things they said about you, starting to wonder if there was a layer of truth to it. You were distracted for the rest of the night and when you escaped back to the stock room to pull what was needed at the end of the night, Tommy took the opportunity to pull Joel aside when he walked through the doors to pick you up.

“Don’t tell her that I told you this, but something happened at work tonight.” Tommy keeps his voice down from the lingering patrons, one arm across his torso, the other holding his hand to his mouth to pinch his lip. His eyes dance around to make sure there’s no one eavesdropping.

“What? What are you saying, what happened? Is she okay?” Joel’s brow furrows, feet stepping towards the back to find you. He worries immediately, his mind used to jumping to the worst scenarios from the shit that he’s seen.

“She’s in one piece, quit panicking. Just, some unsavory things were said. There’re this group of women that were drunk, but I think they said some stuff about her. All I heard was what they shouted at her when she walked away, called her a ‘homewrecking whore.’”

Joel grimaces, his heart breaking at the thought of you being subjected to such torment. His temper swells in his chest, and his first thought was to go find whoever it was and sling insults right back to them. It wasn’t even true, he was the one who got you all into that mess, but of course, to an outsider looking in, they were going to blame the third party involved in a marriage that fell apart.

Joel nods in understanding, not willing to dare repeat what Tommy said, the words sitting bitterly in his mouth while he leans against the counter waiting for you.

Your eyes are trained down when you enter the main room again, counting the stock of the bottles in your hands under your breath. At someone’s throat clearing, your head snaps up and the slightest smile grows on your face at the sight of Joel leaning over the bar with a gentle, boyish grin.

“Hey, sweet girl. Boss man says you can head home early with me.” He jerks his head in Tommy’s direction, his brother smiling with a hand raised in a wave. You smile wider, waving your thanks back as you set the box of bottles on the counter. Making your way out and over to Joel, his arms scoop you up against him with a sigh of contentment.

“Missed you, darlin’. You ready to head home?” His lips press into your hair at the top of your head, the tiniest bit of tension from the night relaxing in his embrace.

“Ready. Let’s go home, cowboy.” Joel chuckles lightly at the nickname, keeping one arm wrapped around you as you both start down the gravel street. He recounts his shift with you, telling you about a family of bunnies he saw to cheer you up and cracking a couple of jokes. You barely smile in his direction, laughing a beat too late when you register that he’s been jesting with you, much too quiet for your normal, bubbly self. You act completely cold about it all, with no anger or emotion burning in you to share with him. It squeezes his chest, the fact that you’re in pain and keeping it distant from him. Those horrible fucking words that he wishes he could just wipe from your brain sit sour in his mouth. All he wants is to block them out so you never have to hear them again because they are the furthest thing from the truth.

He wishes you would tell him what happened tonight; you feign an uneventful evening when he asks about your night. All he wants to do is reassure you, but without you opening up, he doesn’t want to push you if you don't want to talk about it.

The two of you walk into his house, trailing up lazily to the bedroom. Per your request, the room has been rearranged and the bedding has been changed to an extra set you had at home, making the space once again solely Joel’s. Instead of bits of her sprinkled into the space, there are pieces of you lying around that make his heart beat a little faster and a smile crosses his face each time he notices them. Clothes in his dresser, earrings on the nightstand, the book you’re reading on the desk where it’d been left this morning.

Changing from your work clothes, you leave them hanging over the chair. Your pajamas are a pair of boxers that he hasn't touched since moving to Jackson and one of his old t-shirts, the fabric worn in just the right way to make it ideal for sleeping. He strips down, slipping on a pair of grey sweats and staying shirtless. He crawls onto his unmade bed, peeling back your side, and patting your spot, a soft smile on your face as you take the invitation.

Joel’s hands find your waist, bunching up the cotton of his t-shirt to press his palms to your warm skin. He dips his head down to your chest, nuzzling his hooked nose against your breasts. He presses sweet kisses to the soft cushiony tissue, forehead resting on your sternum. He hums against the fabric covering you, lifting his hands at your hips to pull the hem further up. You relax under his affection, quiet, breathy sighs leaving your lips.

“My sweet girl, can I help get you out of your head?” Joel’s question sends a wave of arousal between your legs, his broad frame rolling you from your side to your back. He moves to hover over your form from the side, hands coasting over your curves. Thumbs tweak your nipples through your shirt, a whimper falling from your lips. Your complete trust and devotion stare back at him as you fully comply with his request.

“Please distract me.”

Joel groans at your submission, eyes blown wide with hunger and awe.

“Gonna give you exactly what you need to feel better, baby. Gonna remind you how much I love you.” He pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it over the side of the bed. Lips attach to the supple peaks of your breasts, sucking gently and pulling moans from your lips. He works the opposite one with his fingers, swapping his attentive mouth when he feels you arch your back to press your chest into his face. His lips separate from your nipple, hot open-mouthed kisses trailing down your stomach. Every few, Joel’s tongue slips out and skates against your skin, the sensation rippling goosebumps along the surface.

Once he reaches the waist of the boxer shorts you’ve got on, he sits up to admire your form under him. The spots of his saliva glisten in the low, yellow lamplight, your breasts perked up as they rise and fall with your shallow breaths. His fingers hook into the elastic band, slipping them down and sending you soft praise when you lift your hips for him.

“Good girl.”

The shorts join your shirt, rumpled on the floor somewhere. Joel sits back on his heels, gripping your ankles gently to bend your knees and spread your legs open for him. You mold to his positioning like clay, one leg falling to the side lazily to put your glistening cunt on display for him. His tongue wets his lips as he drinks the sight of you up, wishing he was any good at drawing or painting so that he could reproduce you like the work of art you are.

His touch floats up your calves and your velvety thighs, focus zeroing in on the dripping folds in front of him. He shimmies down the bed onto his tummy, arms hooking under your thighs to pull you closer to him. He rests on his elbows partially, and you watch as his gaze becomes fully entranced by the vision of your wet arousal that is all for him.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’. Everything about you, but especially this gorgeous pussy of yours. She’s just weeping for me, isn’t she? You want me to take care of her? Show her she’s mine? Show you how much I love you?” His words only cause more dampness to flood your core, soft whines drawing out of you as you move to sit up. You lean back on your hands, desperate to watch every detail unfold of your man worshipping you from between your legs.

“Please, Joel. Pretty please,” you mewl.

A satisfied smirk crosses his face, loving how desperate you get for him. His eyes fall to the space between your legs, his mouth salivating. He leans in, letting spit drip onto the coarse curls that cover your mound, his hardening cock twitching as part of him coats your sex, marking you as his in addition to the love bites waxing and waning in phases across your body. He reaches a hand around your leg, coating his fingers with your wetness and using it to mix and smear his spit and your arousal all over the hair and skin there.

He presses a delicate kiss to your hood, the contact sending a jolt to your thighs and jerking your hips. One large hand pushes down on your stomach to keep you in place as he swipes his tongue from your taint to your clit, the tip of it slipping in to tease your entrance as it skates along through your slick. He savors the taste of you, a sharp sweetness that’s become his favorite flavor.

A groan rumbles from his chest, vibrating against you before his mouth sucks at your clit. Moans tumble from your mouth, breath hitching as you inhale when his tongue moves down, pressing into your entrance slightly. Like eating ice cream in a heatwave, he moves to catch any dripping arousal with his mouth or chin, your name falling from his lips as he feels himself achingly hard in his sweatpants against the mattress. He starts to fuck his hips into the cushiony material, tongue easily slipping in and out as he starts to thrust in your cunt.

“Fucking love your little sounds. Love how sweet you are for me, darlin’. Never gonna get enough.”

Fingers work circles in your clit, the motions tightening the knot in your stomach. Your head falls back with a moan of Joel’s name, chest rising and falling rapidly as you try to keep breathing while your pleasure builds its pressure inside of you. His mouth and fingers swap positions, suckling at your clit with lewd noises while two of his large fingers slide in between your walls. His hand fucks your tight pussy, praises rasped against your mound as he takes a breath to press kisses against the curls there. Another finger is added, the girth of all three working you towards your bliss.

“Fuck, ‘m so close, baby. Gonna come, oh my god. Feel so good.” Your voice is high-pitched, whining as the pressure pushes harder inside of you, taut coils ready to snap.

Joel looks up at you, pupils completely blown wide in ecstasy. His hips still work his hard cock against the mattress, his own release building inside of him.

“Be my sweet girl, come on my mouth.”

With his words and his lips attached to your cunt again, the pressure built in you releases with a mind-clearing, blinding pop. Your wanton moans echo in the room, the bawdy sounds of your pleasure and your wetness mixing together as Joel continues to work you through your orgasm.

His hips move faster as he watches you come undone from his handiwork, the noises you’re making sending him over the edge. He comes in his sweatpants with a moan of your name, dry humping the mattress like a teenager. He feels like he should be embarrassed, but after all that he just witnessed from you, it’s a miracle he didn’t bust when you simply opened your legs for him.

Untangling himself from you, he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean himself up, throw his pants in the hamper and grabs a warm, damp washcloth for you. He patters back over to the bed and takes care of you, discarding the washcloth and gently closing your legs. He climbs back into bed with you, pulling the covers up once again. He nestles in behind you, curling his frame around you protectively. Your mind’s foggy from your orgasm and exhaustion floods over your body, no protest from you as you start to drift. He nuzzles into your hair, pressing a delicate kiss at the back of your neck as he whispers to you.

“It’s only you, darlin’.”

Another month passes after that night at the bar where you heard what was being said about you around town. The gossiping didn’t stop, especially when people found out that you had finally caved in from Joel’s relentless (yet charming) pleads and agreed to move in with him and Ellie.

Everyone seemed to have an opinion on how fast you both had moved, how you were shoving everything in his ex-wife’s face, how you were staking your claim so publicly and like a “whore.” Whatever it all meant, it was heard in whispers at the bar, in the market, in town meetings, you name it. If you were present, people were talking.

It influenced you the more you heard it; the repetition of it all made it sound like truth to your weak mind. You kept these feelings of guilt and shame inside, burying them deep in an attempt to keep everything copacetic for Joel. He was happy these days, smiling more and cracking jokes. He was more involved in the community and Ellie also found her place with Joel behind her and fully content in Jackson. You dreaded being the one to cause any more problems than you already did for the last year and a half, so you shut your mind up in an attempt to compartmentalize.

If Joel didn’t know what all was being said, that was for the best. You weren’t going to be the one to burst the love bubble that he had for you, so you were just going to keep cool and try to get out of your head about everything that was left undiscussed.

But, that only made going into town and going to work hell. You weren’t acting like yourself anymore, no small talk with customers or catching up with neighbors and friends that would come to visit you. You did your job and walked home each night silently, even when you were with Joel. Every shift you would hear some new comment or rumor about you, adding it to the file that you had accumulated in your mind. Your subconscious flicked through it every night in your dreams, pulling out some of the worst to relive when you should have been dreaming of being happy with the man lying beside you.

The guilt was pulling you under, each new comment acting like a brick to weigh you down into the sea of liability and disgrace you were lost in. There was shame over how you were characterized in the outcome of all of this, guilt over breaking up his marriage, anxiety over becoming a burden to Joel and anchoring him down into the depths again. You’d thought it all would wash away with the changing of tides, since you and Joel could be together openly, but it only brought you to the ocean floor while Joel was floating on the waves above you.

It was an evening that Joel had off, opting to stay in and play Boggle with Ellie. You left the two of them to head to work after playing a few rounds yourself, both you and Ellie completely annihilating Joel. The acid in your stomach sloshed around, pressure building in your torso and pushing the burning sensation up your chest and into your throat as your steps closed in on the Tipsy Bison. Your tongue feels heavy and dry in your mouth, breaths jagged as you attempt to calm yourself outside the wooden building. You stand there for what feels like an hour, wrangling all your anxiety into a small lump in your throat. This is where it would sit for the rest of the night until you could finally let it all back out on your walk home.

The beginning of your shift was normal, nothing said to or about you. That all changed, though, when the person you least expected to see comes and sits on the stool in front of where you’re polishing glasses.

Heather.

Your eyes widen in surprise and nervousness, the lump in your throat starting to seep its way back into the burning acid of your stomach and the tightness of your chest. Ears brace themselves for either an insult or something degrading to be thrown your way. After a beat of silence, you scramble to resolve the awkward tension.

“I can get Tracy to serve you, she’s just over--”

“No, no that’s not necessary. If you’re fine with serving me, that is.”

You nod quickly to relieve the discomfort, your people-pleasing tendencies rearing their ugly head. You actually don’t want to be serving her, but you also really don’t want more drama to inevitably spread about you walking away to get someone else for her - there’s no chance that it wouldn’t be spun against you.

“Um, yeah no, totally cool. What can I get ya?”

She gives you her order and you quickly make it up, depositing the glass in front of her. Silence falls between the two of you again, but this time she’s the one to break it.

“So, um, how are you? How’s work?”

The questions take you off-guard. You were friendly with Heather before, as her neighbor you would bring over extra garden crops and she would offer to mend clothes of yours. She was always polite and made small talk with you. Well, that was before she knew you were fucking her husband.

“It’s good, I guess. Not much to change around here. How’re things at school? You’re still teaching there?”

You're an idiot. Why are you continuing this conversation as if you guys are long-time acquaintances? You’re trying to be cool about it, just ignore the elephant in the room, but something’s gotta give at one point, right?

“Things are great. We’ve got some open volunteer positions if you’d be interested. It wouldn’t be with me if that’s a concern.”

“No - no. I mean, I’d love to volunteer for Ellie’s class if there’s anything…” you trail off, the thorny pricks of awkwardness becoming too much for you. You start to speak, only to hear Heather at the same time.

“Listen, I really am sor--”

“It’s not all your fault--”

The two of you laugh lightly, tension coating the conversation. Your eyes glance around at anything but Heather’s face before finally meeting her gaze and nodding for her to go first.

She clears her throat, adjusting her position on the stool before starting again.

“It’s not all your fault that my marriage fell apart. I mean, yeah, you’ve got some culpability in the fact that you were having an affair with Joel, but he also told me that you had been with him before we even dated. And, as a woman myself and someone who fell for Joel, my best guess is that you’ve been in love with him since that first time. And Joel told me - what he felt for you the whole time, too. I just, I wanted to say to you that I don’t blame you. Joel is the one who made a stupid, selfish decision that affected both of us. Having an affair with him? Yeah, not really great, but I’ve thought about it for a while, and I would’ve done the same if it were my first husband. He was the love of my life, and I never wanted to lose him. So, yeah. I wanted to tell you that I understand. And I completely despise what everyone says about you. It’s disgusting, and I’m so sorry you have to hear that all the time.”

She’s apologizing to you. The woman whose husband you had an affair with. Granted, she was right that you were together once before they even dated. And that you’ve loved him ever since. But there is actually no sane world in which she should be apologizing to you. Have you made the impression that you were expecting this? Was she feeling guilty towards you?

All of these thoughts eat away at you, crashing around your mind and making that burning pressure alive again in your gut. You chew your lip, eyes wide, and stare a thousand miles away. Remorse overtakes your mind, words caught in your throat.

Why couldn’t she have just come in here guns blazing? Screamed at you? Called you all those names you’ve heard for weeks?

Her being cruel would be way better than her being kind, understanding even.

It makes your chest tighten, air squeezed out of your lungs in a panic.

You have to say something, so your voice squeaks a response.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry, too. I really didn’t want to hurt you, I just-I couldn’t let him go.”

Heather nods, a glint of a past life in her eyes. She presses her lips in a tight line before exhaling deeply. Standing from the stool, she nods again, giving you a quick goodbye and making her way out.

She really only came here to say that to you. To apologize.

You're an utter piece of shit, guilt, and shame finally filling your lungs and stealing your breath away from you.

Quickly, you turn to your nearest coworker, mumbling out an excuse that you need to leave early. Instead of waiting for any confirmation, you all but run out of the building, feet carrying you past Joel’s house with the lights still on, and past your old little cottage that now sits dormant. The overgrown lawn tugs at your heart, begging you to take care of it again. You turn back towards Joel’s, seeing him laughing with Ellie through the window, and the tugs on your heart pull harder towards them.

You pass the residential area, approaching the site you haven’t seen in months. Following around the tattered, weather-worn red siding of the old barn, the open grazing field comes into full view. You climb over the split-rail fence, mind reeling over what tonight has entailed while muscle memory carries you to the small clearing in the tall grasses.

Not even realizing you were holding your breath, a sigh escapes your lips. Dewy earth dampens the seat of your jean shorts, the sticky summer air keeping you warm. Thighs press to your chest and your arms envelope around your knees. You rest your chin in between your kneecaps, eyes combing up to the night sky above you. The lack of light pollution these days has made the stars brighter against the deep blue atmosphere. They blur from the tears welling in your eyes, one blink creating tiny streams on your face. They feed into the ocean of guilt and shame that you’ve made your home, the feeling of it’s waters choking your lungs to breath out sobs.

You sit like that for a while, fuzzy constellations kaleidoscoping in your vision. Your attention is only pulled away from the midnight blue when you hear a twig snap. Turning over your shoulder, the back of you hand wipes your eyes clear to see Joel standing behind you. Hands in the front pockets of his jeans, he stands tense and looks down at you softhearted and doleful.

Without an invitation, he closes the gap between you, groaning quietly as he bends down to take the spot next to you. You’re transported back to countless nights before, Joel and you under the same sky to spend your fleeting time together before sunrise.

“Got real worried when you didn’t come home when you usually do. Checked the bar first, and your old place. Guess I should’ve had the thought to come here a lot sooner.” His voice is low, gentle timbre vibrating the tightness in your chest and giving some slack to the taut pull of it.

“‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you, I just--I couldn’t go home right away. I didn’t want to ruin your night with Ellie…” your own voice is meek, cracking slightly from disuse. You sniffle, the back of your hand swiping under your nose and the heel of your palm rubbing the tear stains from your cheeks. The evidence of your emotion makes you embarrassed; here you were, your anxious fears coming true -- you’re officially a burden to Joel. He’s had to cut his night short with his daughter, traipsing around town to try to find you because you couldn’t bother to swallow your sorrow and head home like normal.

“Darlin’, you don’t need to apologize. It’s okay that you needed time alone, but even if you had come home, you wouldn’t have ruined our night. We love you…” he clears his throat, tender touches tucking hair behind your ears and rubbing the nape of your neck before continuing, “What’s wrong, baby? What’s got you so upset?”

“It’s nothin’. It’s nothin’, I’m fine. Just, tough night at work…” You lie through your teeth, avoiding Joel’s gaze to keep the facade. One look in your eyes and you know he’d see right through you.

“It’s clearly not nothin’ if you’re crying about it, darlin’. You can tell me anything. I wanna help you, be there for you, protect you. Did someone say something to you? Something mean?”

Your eyes snap up to him, the knowing look on his face cluing you in that he’s known about what’s being said around town. You don’t really know what hurts more in the moment - the fact that he knew all of these horrible things were being said and he didn’t comfort you or that you’ve already been a burden to him, already been another problem for him for much longer than you thought.

You think about lying to him, but you know he would be able to tell - he can always tell - instead opting to just break down the damn of everything you’ve been feeling, letting it all rush out at once.

“It’s all of it. Everything that people are saying about me, it feels like it’s the truth. I did break up a marriage. I did have an affair for months with you; you were someone’s husband. I love you, but it doesn’t negate the fact that what happened was still wrong on some level. And what everyone’s saying about what I did, it’s made this sea of guilt and shame and I’m drowning in it. I can’t keep my head clear above water, it’s all consuming right now. And I feel so anxious about being a burden to you. You’ve been so happy lately, with us being together and living together and Ellie being adjusted. You’re so much lighter, floating even. I couldn’t bear to drag you under with me when you finally caught your breath.” It all tumbles out of you in a stream of consciousness, and in the end, Joel is silent as he takes it all in.

The thought occurs to you that you’ve been wanting to know how Joel has felt about all of it. You haven’t talked about it at all; if he felt just the same guilt and shame, maybe it could help you both work to absolve your sins. If you were in it together, then maybe you had a chance to make it to land.

“Sweet girl, I hate that you’ve been feeling that way. And I hate that you thought you couldn’t tell me, just cause I’ve been happy to have you finally and I feel like we’re creating a lil’ family. But, I have to say, I ain’t got any regrets. I’ve got you now, I’ve got you in our home and with my daughter, it’s all that matters to me. I couldn’t care less about anything that people are saying about you, it makes me pissed, but getting angry at ‘em just fuels the fire. We can just move on, darlin’. We should just live our lives, fuck whoever doesn’t want to be happy for us.”

Bile creeps up and scorches your throat, a whirlpool swirling in your stomach and the choking feel back in your lungs. You hold it all in, letting Joel wrap his arms around you and pull you up to take you home.

Does he really have no regrets? Would he still get married if he was given another chance? Would he still choose to put you through this pain that has been a constant dull in your heart for the last year and a half? Would he choose the path that makes you the target of so much contempt, disgust, antipathy from so many?

Those thoughts have plagued you for days now. You had swallowed your searing pain, the guilt cold in your lungs as the hurt settled in your stomach, seeping throughout your body to make your limbs tender and heavy. Every step felt like it took too much effort, every fake smile plastered on your face made your cheeks sore in the wrong way. You had become a method actor in your own life, optimistic contentment used as a mask to hide the truth. You went through the motions of the days off you had, enjoying breakfast with Joel and Ellie, laughing at their bickering, and making them both their favorite way to eat eggs - Joel’s scrambled and Ellie’s over medium. You were a family, just as Joel had said, and you were playing the role of the dutiful, delighted partner.

Once they both left for the day, you deflated. Took off the mask and stared at yourself in the mirror, taste of bitter metal in your mouth as you watched the remorse, the regret crawl out of your chest and into your eyes, across your face. It disgusted you, angered you, yet you forced yourself to study it, punished yourself because everyone had told you that you should.

That was how it had gone for the last handful of days. Today was your first day back at work, and you got ready outside of the bathroom to avoid facing the hideous manifestations of your sins. Exiting your shared bedroom, your face pulled tight again, smile ghosting across your lips and eyes crinkled with subtle joy. Joel was standing at the bottom of the stairs, kneeling to lace up his boots. At the sight of you, he grinned and stood up, hands reaching for your waist and pulling you in for a chaste kiss.

Part of you wondered if he could taste it on you - the bitter, sour feeling that sat in your mouth. How much his lack of regret had crumbled any resolve you had left, any room for forgiveness you had in yourself.

He walked you to work before heading off on patrol. Walking inside, you instantly wanted to turn back and hide away at home for weeks longer. The thought of having to keep up your act for the whole night was making you nauseous. An hour into your shift, you couldn’t take the feeling anymore, so you snuck a shot of whiskey to attempt to take the edge off. The tingle of the alcohol soothed the lump in your throat, warming your cold chest and settling your woozy stomach. It gave you a break, for just a moment.

You chased that moment of peace all night, taking pulls whenever you could. You chatted more with patrons and coworkers, bubbling up giggles as your brain shut off from your inebriation. It was so tranquil to not have that frigid shame in your lungs, the thoughts of all that has been said to hurt you in the last few months silenced, even the voice of Joel saying he has zero regrets about what he’d done is muffled.

No wonder why Joel got drunk all the time at the beginning of this. It’s the only medicine that works for guilt.

By the end of your shift, you’re nearly wasted. Not quite to a level where you’ve lost motor skills but to the point where your eyes lids feel heavy, your vision is blurred on the edges, and your words start to slur together. When you’ve snuck to the backroom to take another swig, pushing the limit of how drunk you can get in the next ten minutes before your shift ends, Joel saunters into the bar. His eyes scan the room for any sight of you, pouting slightly when he comes up empty. Tommy’s working tonight, so he makes his way over to the end of the bar where his brother stands. Joel leans against the counter, nodding a greeting to Tommy and asking where you’re at.

Tommy looks at him, lips pressed together and eyebrows raised. He glances back at the entrance to the stockroom before leaning in.

“She’s back there. Probably downing a couple more shots of whiskey.”

Joel’s eyes widen and his brow shoots up, a look of shock at what Tommy’s said. It’s not like you to drink at work, hell, you barely ever have a nightcap when the place is all cleared out. Joel can count the number of times he’s seen you drunk on one hand, and this is certainly not an occasion that would have you indulging. He clears his throat, eyes focused back on his brother.

“She’s drinking at work? Is she drunk?”

As Tommy opens his mouth to respond, the door to the stockroom swings on its hinges and you stumble out while whistling. The moment would normally make Joel chuckle, the way you’re completely carefree is somewhat endearing to him. But right now, he can’t help but worry that something else has happened to make you upset, and this time you’ve taken a coping mechanism out of his book.

Your mouth forms a perfect circle, surprise washing over your expression as you look around for anyone to share your reaction. A small burp comes from behind the hand you put up to your mouth, down turning your gaze away from him. Feet shuffle along to Joel, arms crossing over your chest as if the warmth in your chest will heat you up like sitting in front of a fire.

“Well, hello there, darlin’. Feeling good?” He chuckles lightly to hide his concern, Tommy backing up from the two of you and quickly making an exit from what is bound to be a bit of an awkward moment.

Painted smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes, hand reaching for his as a hiccup shoots from your chest.

“Guess so. Turned my brain off for the night, ‘was nice.” It was just what he was panicked about. That you had done what he had done so many months ago, gotten drunk out of his mind to grapple with all the remorse he had felt constantly.

He hated that you felt the same. He was the reason you were going through this. His actions hurt you, even beyond the time that you were his secret. He failed to pull you out with himself, leaving you to take on the weight of all that he had done, sinking you deeper while he had made it to the surface.

A stiff smile stretches across his face, hand reaching for the small of your back to guide you home.

“Alright, let’s get you home, sweet girl. Think you might need to clock out for the night.” He sends Tommy a wave and you turn to do the same, tripping over your feet. Joel catches you at your waist, righting you on your way out. He keeps a hand on you, eyes trained on your profile to keep watch. You keep your stare ahead, silencing falling over the two of you.

The fresh air has sobered you up some, thoughts infesting your mind again. The alcohol has kept you from getting back into the act that you’ve kept up around Joel, even working your blood to boil with anger towards him for the words that have been branded into your heart.

I ain’t got any regrets.

“Fucking bullshit.” You think out loud and the words stop Joel in his tracks. Brows furrow in confusion as his lips pucker to one side.

“What’s that, darlin’?”

“It’s fucking bullshit, Joel.”

He laughs apprehensively, unsure of where this is going. The words cut with bitterness behind them, and he can see in your eyes there’s pain burning.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I’m gonna need a little more from you.” He tilts his head to the side, the line between his brow deepening.

You can’t hold it in any longer, a river of anguish, guilt, pain, and more rushing out of you.

“How you just can get over it! We can just act like everything’s fine and nothing is fucked up about the way we got together! And you can feel all the relief of not having to hide an affair from your wife anymore and not hiding me, but now I’ve been passed the massive fucking weight. Now I’m known as the homewrecker, the slut, the mistress. You’re still Joel. It’s always ‘There’s Joel and the homewrecker. She’s so bold to be able to be with him after she broke apart a marriage.’ It feels like I’m barely keeping my head above water sometimes like this huge sea of guilt is going to drown me. I can’t understand how you can just have no regrets about it all when it’s hurt me so much. How I loved you, still love you so fucking much despite how much pain you’ve given to me. Purposefully or not, it all hurts the same. I’m so glad that you can show everyone that you love me, but I can’t keep pretending like we’re the picture-perfect couple and make a home together and live life now without addressing all of this shit. I can’t just pretend to be cool about it anymore.”

Tears have poured out of your eyes in the middle of everything, mixing with the runny nose that you sniffle back. You probably look a mess, but you can’t bring yourself to wipe it away. You want the sight to face Joel along with your words. You need him to see it all, to realize how much you’ve been harboring, how badly you need him to take some of the weight off of your chest before the water fully fills your lungs and takes you under completely.

Joel's tears burn his own eyes as he sees exactly what his stupidity has caused. He thought he could help you get over it by acting like he had moved on in hopes that you would do the same. That you guys could start fresh, leave it all behind. It was another stupid choice that he’d made. Of course, you couldn’t leave everything in the past; the way you built your relationship was in secret, hidden away. Of course, you should have been given reassurance when the two of you could finally be together. He should’ve shut everyone up instead of hoping that the insults and rumors would die out. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.

He had more regrets now than he ever did.

His voice is thick when he finally responds, hand reaching up to grasp at the nape of your neck and the other on your cheek, holding your gaze in his.

“Of course I have regrets. I said that to try to put that thought in your head. I thought if you heard that I felt that way, you would start to feel it, too. That you could let go, be the carefree, light person that I fell in love with. That I am in love with. I am so sorry that you feel like you are carrying this all by yourself. I have so much remorse for the past. I tell myself every day that if I could go back, I would have never doubted what we could be together. That you loved me completely, that I wouldn’t fail you. I choose you, over it all. I love you so much, and I am so sorry that I’ve hurt you. You don’t ever have to pretend around me. I’m the only other person who could understand what you’re feeling, I want you to tell me everything. Yell at me, cry about it to me, whatever you need to do. But please, don’t keep it from me. I should’ve reassured you. I should’ve been honest with you. I should’ve protected you, told everyone in this fucking town what I think of anything they have to say. I am so sorry that I failed you. You’re it for me. This has to work. I will do anything to make this work and to make you happy, 'cause I have no clue what I’d do without you. I finally have my shot at a life with you, and I’m not giving that up.”

His words drive a knife into your chest - you realize that his biggest fear has come true. He’s failed you. Or thinks he’s failed you.

Yes, his actions have hurt you, but for a long time, you were choosing the pain. And yes, you’ve taken on the guilt for both of you, and you realize you are still choosing the pain, but this time it's all too much to take on alone.

Not once did you think he failed you. You’ve thought you would fail him, dull him, lose him. That you couldn’t work through your own shit to be happy with him. Both of you have avoided communicating and miscommunicated at the same time.

The two of you have been so absorbed in trying to give the other what you thought they needed, that you’ve ended up doing the opposite.

Truth was, that you both needed the same things from each other. You needed the other to fully knock down the walls, to be vulnerable, to be honest. You both tried so hard to placate the other, to make the other one feel better about everything, that you’ve ended up on completely opposite ends.

You can’t help but laugh. Only the two of you could be so troubled with trying to make the other happy, at ease, or content that you end up making it worse. It hasn't been easy for the last year and a half, and as soon as it could be, you've found ways to complicate it.

Joel stares at you quizzically, the sound relaxing his concern. He can’t help the grin that tugs at his lips, shaking his head in disbelief at you.

“Okay, did I say something funny? Or wrong? Is this whole thing about to be over and you’re laughing maniacally?”

That makes you giggle more, tears of laughter now rolling down your perked-up face. You catch your breath, inhaling a few times through your chuckles to finally calm down enough to speak. You press your hands to his chest in reassurance, shaking your head with a genuine smile aching your cheeks.

“No, no. Absolutely not. That was - that was exactly what I needed to hear. I just - I’m sorry, I’m laughing because we are both so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, sweet girl, it’s only me --”

“Nah, uh huh. Both. I don’t mean to call you stupid, maybe silly is a better word. We’ve just -- we’ve been so focused on trying to spare the other, to make the other happy that we’ve totally missed what we both needed. And what we need from each other is exactly the same.”

“And what is that?” His confusion has lessened, but still hasn’t left. What’s vanished has been replaced with a content smirk quipped up to the side.

“Being honest. Being vulnerable. Communicating. I should have told you how I was feeling this whole time so that you could understand, and I should have known that I could come to you even though I thought I would be a burden. I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner. We're in this together.”

The light bulb goes off for him, eyes brightening as he comes to his own realization.

“No need to apologize, darlin'. Like you said, 'm just as guilty in this mess. We chose each other -- we should be partners, not adversaries. I should’ve been honest about how I felt about everything that happened. I shouldn’t've pretended everything was fine.”

You nod, tender smile as you stare into his eyes. Your expressions have softened, tears have dried, and every bit of pain has been replaced with forgiveness, perspective, and love. Joel chuckles himself, and you break into a fit of giggles together.

“God, we really are a pair of fools, huh?” Joel’s voice is light, teeth pulling his bottom lip under them as he gazes down at you in his arms.

“Wound up as bad comedians mocking our own lives. The creators of our own suffering.”

“Wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else, darlin’. But, do you think we could come up with something new? Maybe something actually fun?”

That makes you laugh again, Joel’s chest warming at your joy. His hands fall from your neck and face, snaking around your waist to hold you close. You nod in agreement with a gentle, content grin.

“Only the good stuff from here on out. Maybe we can even sprinkle in some shitty puns?”

“Oh yeah? Got any on your mind? Hit me, I’ll decide if it gets added to the act.”

You think for a moment, a cheeky smirk twisting your mouth.

“Hmm…how about “You must be a planet, and I must be a moon, 'cause I totally revolve around you!”

Joel’s head rolls back with a grumble of laughter, a grimace on his face once he looks at you again, shaking his head.

“'M sorry, darlin’, but that is so bad.”

“Okay, well you try it then!” The two of you start your walk back to your home, tangled up in each other. You pinch his side at the rejection, looking up expectantly.

“What did Neil Armstrong say when no one laughed at his moon jokes? I guess you had to be there!” He laughs as if it’s the funniest thing, and the dad joke gives you the slightest chuckle.

“Oh, c’mon, how is that any better than mine?”

“Cause it’s actually funny! Can’t help that I’m such a natural-born comic.”

“That is such a lie. You definitely got that from ‘No Pun Intended: Volume Too.’ I know your sources, Miller.”

“Fine, fine. You got me there. Guess we'll just have to let Ellie choose the winner.”

You smile at the thought of returning home to her, warmth in your chest melting some of the guilt away as you reach the door. The two of you tumble inside together, giggling away. You toe off your shoes, and Joel watches from the entryway as he unties his boots. Flopping down on the couch next to his daughter, you’re immediately rolling into the story behind the little competition that she’s going to be the judge of. He takes in the sight under the warm lamplight, happiness swelling in his chest as he watches the two people in front of him start to playfully bicker back and forth about the best kind of joke.

It might not be a sheep ranch on the moon, but it’s certainly his dream come true.

taglist: @joelsversion @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @aleatoria2000 @thelightnessofthebeing @mangosandmimosas @runestavia @dianaffddz @beee-haw @bigboiseason123 @xyz32 @mrsvedder12 @tuquoquobrute @moriartyyouwhore @justsumtuffstuff @tryingtonotcryconstantly @alymaliktommo @cambleuu @iwrotethissky @pascalislove @pedr0swh0r3 @agentwhiskeysgf @jenna-ortega @juniperandthornz @wildwollff @pascals-djarin @missfeanor @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lil-stark @gracie7209 @pedrostories @nic0lodean @mymultiveres @v-mack @theelishad @cutie-with-that-booty @danelleee @harriedandharassed @mingiast (tagging some more mutuals, lmk if you want to be removed <3) @johnwatsn @undrthelights @ladamedusoif @pedrit0-pascalit0 @ruinedbylanadelrey @thetriumphantpanda @pedgeitopascal @midnightswithdearkatytspb @dinsdjrn @thepascalofus @pedgito @soaringcloud @somedayauthor @alloftheimagines @pr0ximamidnight

#joel #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x yn #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #me #writing

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ckret2 · 15 days

Note

If you don't mind my asking, what is your outlining process like? Is it a bulleted list of scenes, or paragraphs describing what you want to happen? How thorough is it, and how much do you just figure out as you go? I'm about to attempt to write a truly longform fanfic for the first time, and I've been a fan of yours long enough that I feel you probably have some sage wisdom on the matter.

You know what, I get this question with some regularity, so instead of trying to remember how I explained it last time, I'll just drop one of my outlines so I can link this the next time someone asks. Here's my full outline for chapters 33/34/35. Copy/pasted from my plotting sessions in discord with my writing buddies.

This is in two parts. The first part is my actual outline, which I ALWAYS had open while actually writing the chapters—I recommend open my outline and the finish chapters side-by-side so you can see just how closely the chapter follows the outline. My outline is VERY LONG and VERY DETAILED, down to exactly what happens in the conversations; this is because I've found that, for me, "write out THE ENTIRE chapter WITH all actions & dialogue (but writing it super badly)" + "writing the chapter well (but not needing to think about actions & dialogue AT ALL") is much, much faster than "do a simple outline (but figure out the action, dialogue, and how to write it well all at once)".

And the second part is a bunch of snippets from other plotting sessions where I was figuring out how to fit the tooth fairy arc into the whole fic, so you can see how I work on overarching plot lines.

Anywhere there's a "####" divider is a separation between different plotting sessions on different days. Anywhere text is in "[brackets]" it's either a paraphrase of something one of my writing buddies said (I don't post direct quotes publicly) or some kind of note to myself.

####

[This part is my actual outline I used to write the chapters]

So! Stan's having breakfast. Bill comes into the kitchen, plops down, "gooood morning—" "go away."

"Haha funny. Anyway! I need you to take me to your dentist." "No. I took you to the mall, you almost made my niece cry, my brother left a Shopliftaholics Anonymous flier on my bed, and all I got out of is was a crummy ring. You wanna go anywhere, talk to Soos."

Nope, it's gotta be Stan. (he doesn't wanna hang out with that loser Soos anyway.) Bill's trying to get fillings, and Stan's dentist does them for free.

Which is true, but it's weird that Bill knows that. Stan's dentist is some weirdo operating out of a back alley, with a weird pay structure. He charges normal dentist rates for regular dental maintenance, but he does gold fillings for free, and he'll pay YOU if he needs to pull your teeth. He's great! Stan hasn't had to pay for dental care in thirty years! Stan also wears dentures now, but hey, at least they were free.

So, since it's Stan's dentist, he's the only one who can take Bill. Stan sees where Bill's coming from; but he says no, because he doesn't wanna.

Okay, bill's gonna try another tact.

Stan, Bill is a simple creature. A simple creature who's used to being coated tip to base in a thin layer of pure, lustrous, 24 karat gold. Having skin makes his skin crawl. He doesn't *need* any dental work done, his teeth are fine, but he'd really, *really* like to have just a *bit* of gold, *somewhere* on his body, so he feels a *little* more like himself in his final days. (you're losing my sympathy by the second, cipher.) ... And then once he's dead, he supposes he'll be leaving behind a corpse with a mouthful of free gold that whoever's disposing of his remains can do whatever they want with, do you catch his meaning Stanley?

That's absolutely *disgusting.* ... But okay, he's bribed! ...... They're not telling Ford about this, right? Right. They're shaking on it. Agreed. They'll take this to their graves. ... Or to Bill's grave, anyway.

Hey, it's free gold that Bill is offering him totally voluntarily. After all the trouble this demon's brought into their lives, the LEAST Stan can get in return is a little financial compensation.

Great! Deal made! Time to go get the cursed friendship bracelets and then they can head out—

Ohhh no, Stan isn't trusting a bit of colored lace and some mystical hocus-pocus to keep Bill contained. They're doing this PROPERLY. He's gonna MAKE SURE Bill can't escape. They're going to Soos and getting the REAL, METAL handcuffs from him. Try to get out of THAT! Now... to the car!

... Bill's right wrist is cuffed to Stan's left wrist. This puts Bill on Stan's left side. How are they gonna get Stan in the driver's seat.

... Does Stan want Bill to drive— NO, no, NOPE, he is NOT letting Bill drive, under ANY circumstances, NOT a chance. Okay fine so how are they doing this.

Cue Stan driving with Bill cuddled up against his right side and Bill's right arm stretched across Stan's chest. It's very intimate. Very romantic. You can practically hear Unchained Melody playing in the background They are both so very very uncomfortable.

[imagine a gif from Ghost]

Exactly like that but imagine them grimacing in disgust the whole time

Definitely one of the worst experiences Stan has ever had handcuffed in a car.

So after a VERY unpleasant drive they park, get out—and immediately cross paths with Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland. Stan's like ah great, last thing they need, police nearby while they're doing something weird. Well, if they don't make eye contact and go about their way—

Bill waves like HI DARRYL, HI EDWIN, HOW'S IT GOING? WORKING HARD OR HARDLY WORKING HAHA and they're like OH HEY GOLDIE HOW'VE YOU BEEN, DID YOU HAVE A NICE SUMMERWEEN and Stan is like "*Bill what do you think you're doing getting their attention, do you want them asking questions*" and Bill goes "🙂 I did not think this through 🙂"

Which is of course when they go "hey why are you handcuffed to Mr. Pines? You need some help there? I bet we've got a key that matches that handcuff model" and oh Stan BETS that Bill would LOVE to accept that offer and go traipsing off into town with the cops, so he goes "NOPE, that's fine, thank you officers, but we're keeping the handcuffs on. ... Because. They're necessary. ... For me. ... Because I'm old. ... It's to keep me from wandering into traffic."

Bill's a quick liar, he goes haha yep that's true!! This guy's cataracts are so bad, sometimes he asks us if he's dying because all he can see is a white light at the end of a dark tunnel. And the way his mind's going, woof—" "(all right you don't have to lay it on so thick)" "—he's so addled it's like he's completely forgotten the last century of transportation advancements, he'll just walk right off the curb and expect the horse-drawn carriages to stop for him—" "Hahaaa, but we won't bore you with my medical history! *C'mon,* Goldie, you're gonna make me *late* to my *heart doctor appointment.* You don't want my life on your hands, do you." "(You know, I think I kind of do.)"

The cops are like, you can't see? didn't we just see you get out of the driver's seat of your car? and they're like ......... Goldie's giving him directions. 😃

Oh! That makes sense. Okay. They'll let them get to their doctor's appointment. They wander off like y'know i think Goldie's a step up from that seeing-eye bear

They look at each other like, all right, good improv, you're not bad. They can respect each other for that. Stan thinks Bill wouldn't be bad to run a con with if he were literally anybody other than who he is. Okay, on to the dentist.

So the dentist's office is a little garden shed around back behind some other totally unrelated business. Whatever business I can think of that would be funniest. It's a ramshackle nightmare. The dentist, also, is a ramshackle nightmare.

[candy store]

He's surprised to see Stan there, on account of the fact that Stan has no teeth. Because the dentist pulled them all. ... he's not mad is he

No, no, the dentures are great! They're lower maintenance! Sort of. In a way. Anyway, he's here to refer a new customer! ... does he get any kind of referral bonus or

Yeah have a uhhh gold coin or something, here. Okay! New customer! What can he do you for?

Fillings! Okay, on which teeth? Whichever he thinks would look best with some! Dealer's choice! Bill's leaving it in his hands! All that matters is that currently Bill's teeth do *not* have any gold in them, and he'd like that to change by the time he leaves.

The dentist gives Stan a look like "is this freak serious" and Stan sorta shrug nods like "yeah he's serious" and the dentist is like okay!!! Super! This'll be fun! Let's see what he has to work with.

The dentist is amazed at Bill's teeth. Wow. So clean. Perfectly white. Did you just get these cleaned, where'd you get it done at? No? Well, looks amazing. And no wear at all, remarkable... Do you mind if he takes a few pictures? Have you ever considered having any of these pulled?

Stan's like yeesh, he forgot how creepy this guy is. He's like a serial killer crossed with a nerd with a tooth fetish.

Well, the dentist is sorry to say that all of these are pristine. Not a hint of cavities—not even plaque. It'd be a shame to drill them. You *sure* you don't want one pulled...?

Stan is 😬 but Bill is handling this like it's a totally normal question for him to be getting. Y'know what, just the fillings today—but who knows, maybe he'll feel naughty and be back in a couple of weeks haha. Just pick a couple of your least favorite teeth to drill into!

Okay, suit yourself. Let's gas you up and get drilling.

This is the first time Stan's had an opportunity to watch the dentist at work. Which is how he learns for the first time that he saves all the little tooth dust & shards off his drill in a tiny Petri dish. Yeesh. He's an even bigger creep than Stan thought.

Bill doesn't handle the gas well. It's not that it makes him sick or anything. He just forgets how to human. The dentist tells him to hold his mouth open and he holds his eyes open until they water. He keeps forgetting his mouth is occupied and talking to the dentist while he trying to drill. When he's let go, he heaves himself off the chair and immediately falls on the ground because he expected to float. Stan has to support him to the door and he keeps trying to walk sideways. Bill doesn't mind, he feels great! Waves at the dentist as they leave. Thanks for the gold, Atlantis is rising as we speak, you have seven years to prepare for the plague, tell the little lady he said hi! Byyye! Stan is desperately trying to drag him out the door, he turns to Stan like "I made up the bit about Atlantis" "okay now shut up and stop saying weird things"

But not the plague part

The fic *does* take place in 2013

They're driving home. Smushed together all intimate-like. You can almost hear Careless Whisper playing. Except this time Bill is loudly and terribly singing along. He keeps trying to take the steering wheel and turn it like a kid playing in a toy car and Stan has to keep swatting his hand away. Bill's like "I can't feel my tongue at all! I bet I can chew it off!" "Don't do that." "The last time my mouth was this numb, my girlfriend had just gotten done with me, haha. I was almost blind for the next hour from all the spores—" "I swear if you don't shut up—" "I just realized I haven't gotten any action since I died. Wow. This isn't a weird time to bring that up, is it?" "Bill if you say ONE MORE weird thing you're riding home on the roof of the car."

Bill is quiet for three seconds. "Your arm's really beefy! What's your favorite flavor of cancer?"

Mabel: "why are you on top of the car?"

Bill, eyes wide, hair disheveled, one arm hanging through the driver's door, sprawled out desperately clinging to the roof like his life depends on it: "I don't know, it's all a blur." (Note to self, mention Mabel and dipper are heading out for a sleepover or something)

Well, *that* was fun! 🙂 Bill thinks it was fun, anyway. Stan doesn't agree. Anyway, where's Soos? They need the key to the handcuffs.

Soos is having dinner with Melody's family this evening. They call him to ask where the key is. Haha, sorry dudes! He totally forgot he still had it. Yeah, it's on his keyring. Is that, like, gonna be a problem, or...

Well—pff—when are you gonna be back?? Uhhh he's not sure, kinda late maybe. Well, can he duck out and bring them the key? Uhhhh he WOULD but, he's REALLY worried about impressing Melody's parents, and the casserole's about to come out, and he thinks they might judge him if he leaves, and it would probably ruin dinner... Okay FINE, then what if they drive over to get the key? ("STAN CAN I DRIVE THIS TIME—" "ABSOLUTELY NOT") Oh sure, they can drive over if they want—anyway Melody's parents' place is in Portland.

Which is waaaay outside the barrier around Gravity Falls

Welp. That ain't happening. Looks like they're stuck.

... They could call Blubs and Durland—?

NOPE Stan is NOT calling the cops for help NUH UH, he'll WAIT ALL NIGHT if he has to. ... so. What do they do until then.

Cue them grumpily watching a game show together. Bill refuses to sit in the living room with Stan so Stan's on the couch and Bill's sitting in the entryway on the stairs and their handcuffs are strung through the doorway. Hey Stan, still glad you went with the handcuffs instead of the friendship bracelets? Shut up.

Bill's shouting out the answers to every question on the show almost sooner than they're displayed and eventually Stan is like, man, we'd clean up if we put you on this show. No one would ever figure out how you're cheating. And Bill's like HA, listen to you!! If you were Ford you'd be mad that I'm giving away all the answers before you can guess!! That's the great thing about you, Stan, you don't get irritated at Bill for stupid little reasons, you're more fun. HEY FORD DID YOU HEAR THAT, STAN'S THE FUN TWIN— And Stan's like shut up you idiot ford's in the basement he can't hear you. And what are you talking about, you irritate me all the time. I'm constantly infuriated by you. And Bill's like, oh, well, i guess i just don't care when you're irritated then lmao.

Stan's like what's with you anyway, why are you so obsessed with Stan's brother. And bill says SDFHFJF?? DSFKLGLJ??? FLKJFHGD???? EXCUSE M. EXCUSE ME?? OBSESSED??? MOI???? I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT

Is it OBSESSION to SOMETIMES PAY ATTENTION to the one person in the house he HAPPENS to know best and to whom he HAPPENS to be a teacher and muse and friend— and Stan's like oh that's a load of bull, you're not ANY of those things to him. Friend?? Friend???? HE WANTS YOU DEAD and Bill's like WELL IF THAT'S *SO* then doesn't it also make plenty of sense to keep an eye on, you know, THE GUY THAT *KILLED* HIM, like there's nothing mysterious about why he'd focus a *little* on that person—

THAT'S IT, THAT'S JUST IT!!!! There are TWO people who killed Bill, remember? That was a two-man con he fell for! But he keeps treating Ford like he was the only one there! If Ford's in the room, he's the only person Bill talks to, and if he ISN'T in the room then Bill's yelling across the house for him, and Ford wants less to do with him than anyone else, what the heck, it's creepy—

Only *one* person killed Bill. Stan's not the man who killed him; he's just the place where Bill was killed.

And that baffles Stan into shutting up a second.

Bill's like, do you even remember what happened in your brain?? and Stan's like :/ so Bill's like LMAO!! We were both trapped in there when Ford fired the gun. Completely powerless. Stan was weeping and begging for a way out even, but there was nothing Bill could do by then— and Stan's like all right I KNOW that THAT didn't happen! so Bill's like fine fine okay all right you got me, we actually had this big psychic laser fight, imagining up all sorts of fantastical weapons. And Stan's like, ehhhh, all right, that sounds more like me. And bill says but it was all IMAGINARY, it was a vast illusion, at that point there was nothing I could do to you and nothing you could do to me. We were just two victims locked inside a burning house as it came down around us. YOU didn't kill me, you didn't have the POWER to kill me. And Stan just, gives him this discontented look. Hm.

Oh, oh wow, okay, Bill sees what's going on. Stan's jealous, isn't he. He thought offering up his body to be the scene of a murder finally made him a co-star instead of a sidekick. All their lives, Ford got more attention from daddy, more attention from the teachers, more attention from the WHOLE WORLD—and Stan finally thought he'd at least get a little attention from the big bad living nightmare. Just because he let his brother shoot him in the head. You weren't special enough for anyone else, why do you think you're special enough for Bill?

Oh yeah?? Well he bets he's special enough to break Bill's face— jerks him by the chain into the living room, fist raised; and Bill immediately pulls back as far as he can and tries to shield his face.

As a helpful reminder, Bill's death actually went like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0D3adyJQDqI so 1) he is VERY much lying to Stan, and 2) getting punched in the eye by Stan in the living room is still echoing in his nightmares.

So there's a split second where Bill is absolutely blind with terror, gets out a strangled "NO—!" and then they both freeze and stare at each other. Stan knows what just happened. And Bill knows Stan knows. And Stan knows Bill knows Stan knows.

Bill immediately plays it off, "come on, I just got all this dental work done, at least give me a couple days to enjoy it before you pound it in. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mine having a flatter face, all these bones and cartilage jutting out never did feel right—"

Stan feigns a punch. Bill flinches. Stan laughs at him.

And what's Bill gonna do? Fight him? He is not trained in 3D brawling. He tries, very hard, to explode Stan with his brain. This usually works on people who are annoying him. But alas. "If I had one billion-billionth of my power back I'd have already destroyed you—!" "But you DON'T, sucker!!" Bill screams in frustration and stomps off to go sulk somewhere

Aaand is immediately jerked back because of the handcuffs. Whoops.

"... Whatever I don't even care about your stupid aggressive mammal posturing. It's fine. It doesn't bother me. I'm calm. You're just making yourself look stupid. ... I wanna go to bed."

####

So!! Attempting plotting. When we left off, Bill wanted to go to bed. Which is a problem since he's still handcuffed to Stan

Cue Ford going "Bill. Why are you sleeping on the floor in front of my bedroom door."

Well you see, STAN got them handcuffed together until morning, and Bill tried to be accommodating, but Stan doesn't want to sleep in the attic and won't let Bill sleep in the guest room— (Stan yelling "and Mr. Accommodating here refuses to sleep in the living room") —so the best compromise they've got is sleeping on the floor with the handcuff chain strung under the guest room door, see. Does Ford want in? It'll take a little coordination to get the door open but they've done this once before—

Ford's not messing with this. He's sleeping in the basement. Good night.

At some point in this I've gotta establish that Mabel and Dipper are out of the house for the night. Maybe they're just leaving as Stan and Bill get home. Anyway the point is Bill and Stan are effectively at home alone for the night. Maybe Soos's grandma is still there, she's a little old lady, she wouldn't be much help in a fight

So. Somehow I've gotta get them from being asleep to getting woken up by the dentist being in the house, with the tooth fairy. There's some transitional material I'm missing that I've gotta fill in later.

Maybe Bill wakes up with the dentist's tools already in his mouth, ready to pull. Waking up at 2 am to invasive dental surgery. Bill's like, hello, very forward of you.

[horrified face]

That WOULD be a more appropriate reaction, if Bill weren't so weird.

Bangs on the door to wake up Stan, WE HAVE VISITORS, WAKE UP

Dentist realizes that Bill is stuck in place with the chain, pins him against the wall, and tries to go for his teeth. STAN SURE IS TAKING HIS TIME— Stan gets the door open just in time, Bill tumbles into the guest room, Stan goes wtf why is the dentist here?

The dentist goes uhhhh he just wanted to check on Bill's fillings, yeah, he thought one of them might be a little loose— Bill's like cut the crap, your boss put you up to this, what the heck does the little lady want with his mouth?

Stan's like what? What "little lady," this guy is self employed, what are you talking about— and Bill goes the TOOTH FAIRY, genius, why did you think your dentist pays YOU to pull your teeth! Who'd you think was funding him?! And, well, Stan can't say he ever put much thought into it. He just sort of took this whole thing at face value. But like the tooth fairy is fake right, like that's just stupid—

Which is when a fairy wearing baby teeth jewelry pops her head out of the dentist's bag. Stan's like oh well never mind, just one more crazy thing happening in this town. And Bill's like oh shit she's actually HERE, the situation just escalated significantly.

I've decided the tooth fairy's name is Pearl E. White.

Bill skips straight to addressing her by first name, which disconcerts everybody, not least of which is the tooth fairy herself. Lady, if you were toeing the line of your treaty any harder, you'd be tripping across it. What are you doing here and what do you want?

She's WELL within the bounds of the treaty, she hasn't laid a hand on Bill and she's not about to start, and she's been offering MORE than adequate financial compensation— Bill's like oh yeah I bet the queen would have something to say about you ordering your helper to rip out someone's teeth in the dead of night— and Stan's like hi, question, what the Fuck are you all talking about

Oh Bill can explain, Bill knows lots of things! So this fairy here has a *thing* for teeth. To the extent that she got into a habit of stealing them straight out of humans' mouths! And went so crazy over it that she actually dragged a fairy court into a war with humans over her teeth-stealing habits! Currently, she's only allowed to accept *already freed* teeth that are *voluntarily* offered to her by the owner, which is why she started bribing kids with money.

She starts getting into a gray area working with hired dentists—once a tooth has been handed over to a dentist, that dentist becomes its "owner," and can give that tooth to the tooth fairy—buuut the fact that he *extracted* the tooth puts it on shaky legal ground. Really, Bill thinks the only reason she's been getting away with THAT racket so long is because nobody's raised a legal challenge to it yet. Probably because most humans don't know it's even happening. And with the price of dental work being what it is, yeesh. But—by *any* reading of the treaty, hiring a human to nonconsensually rip out teeth on her behalf is beyond the pale. So she'd better have a good explanation for this!

Yeah, she does have a good explanation for this. SHE WANTS BILL'S TEETH! She'd do ANYTHING for one of his teeth! They're the most amazing teeth she's ever seen!!!

The dentist is like, holding her back from lunging at Bill's face

Okay, great! Fantastic! Bill's not above a little bargaining and he's not too attached to this body—so how much gold you got on you, kid?

Oh no, she's not bargaining. Bill already knows too much, she's NOT about to get blackmailed by a human, and she's not going back to fairy jail. So here's what she's gonna do: she's gonna have her guy rip out every one of Bill's teeth, and then rip his head apart to destroy the witness, and the only negotiating Bill gets to do is on whether or not her guy uses the local anesthetic. What's it gonna be?

Stan cuts in like hi, hey, listen, he'd love to see Bill's head get ripped apart, but—crazy thing—it turns out there's 50/50 odds that killing him will lead to the end of the world, so maybe let's talk this out—

Tooth fairy points at Stan like he's got nothing left of interest to me. He's a witness. Kill him too.

Right, cool cool cool, hey Stan you know that spell Ford's got on Bill? Well if Bill casts it on the dentist, can Stan handle things from there?

Yeah, Stan sees where Bill is going with this. The dentist & fairy don't expect Bill and Stan to lunge for them; Bill casts the can't-use-doors spell on the dentist, Stan drags Bill with him into the hallway, Stan slams shut the door, and now the fairy's bellowing OPEN THE DOOR YOU IDIOT and the dentist is yelling HOW????

They retreat to the entryway. From there they can go out the front door, into the kitchen, into the living room, or upstairs. I need to keep them from just going out the front door, I'll need to think up an excuse for that later. Something magic maybe idk. I also need to keep them out of the kitchen, but that's a likely dead end unless they feel like climbing over the kitchen table to break a window. Basically, I need them to be limited to the living room or upstairs.

The living room is the better option—it has a door to the gift shop, and the gift shop has a door straight outside, as well as doors to the mystery shack museum & the hidden elevator to the basement, lots of great options in there. But Bill drags them upstairs instead. Bill you idiot what are you doing, this is obviously the worse direction??

Shut up we're going this way and Bill doesn't care what Stan thinks about it.

Why are we going this way?? How the heck do you expect to get out of here from up in the attic?! Bill doesn't know, it just seemed like a better idea! There should be a ladder in the storage over the kids' room, maybe they can take that and get down out a window, come on

Meanwhile the fairy is hollering about how YOU DON'T DESERVE THOSE TEETH, THEY'RE TOO GOOD FOR YOU! They're the most beautiful, pristine, unblemished, perfect teeth she's ever seen in her life. (Bill's like "are they really that great?" and Stan's like "eh, a little asymmetrical, honestly.") She's NEVER seen adult teeth so pure and HE'S RUINING THEM by carving out chunks of PERFECT TOOTH to put in unnecessary fillings! He doesn't have the right to those teeth, she deserves them! ("Hey Bill so you knew my dentist was working for the tooth fairy?" "Yes." "And you knew she goes crazy for nice teeth." "Yes." "And it didn't occur to you that she'd be outraged by you carving up your new teeth." "It's in the past, Stanley, focus on the present.")

—and she doesn't even KNOW how he got MAGIC TEETH! Fully adult teeth in a fully adult mouth but SOMEHOW they're barely a month old! It's unbelievable! She couldn't believe it herself until she saw his mouth with her own two eyes! She MUST have those teeth, as soon as possible, so she can preserve them like this, who knows if she'll ever find such a novelty again— Ahhh, so THAT'S what's motivating her. Welp, nope, sorry, Bill didn't see that one coming at all.

... hey, she's been buzzing around shouting at them but they don't hear her trying to help her dentist OR coming after them directly, what's she up to? Stan leans out the door to look into the main attic.

Huh, weird. She's just flying in a circle with what looks like a container of veggies from the fridge?? He thinks it's the sliced portobello mushrooms

WHAT!! OH THAT LITTLE CHEATER IS MAKING A FAIRY RING, THAT'S NOT FAIR—

Aaand poof, the dentist appears in the ring. The fairy must have already made the matching ring downstairs.

The dentist still needs a dumb name

[Drilliam]

Dr. Illiam. It was william but the W fell off his sign

[any relation to dr acula]

Went to dental school together. Dr. Acula kept mislabeling teeth, he always thinks the canines should be longer

He switched career tracks and became a phlebotomist

and speaking of drills — Fairy yells GET THEM, the dentist reaches into his dental tool bag, and pulls out a drill. Not a dental drill. A drill.

They slam the door. The dentist goes AW, F— AGAIN??? The tooth fairy's like JUST BREAK THROUGH IT, YOU HAVE POWER TOOLS

Bill has an idea. Stan, open the window, Bill's tying bedsheets (from Dipper's bed) together. Bill doesn't expect them to climb out that window, does he? No, he expects the *fairy* to think they went out that way, and they can hide in the closet until the fairy and dentist are past them so they can run downstairs.

Stan doesn't like the idea of hiding like cowards instead of fighting. Bill's like I can see a dozen futures that end with our brains splattered across Mabel's dolls you do NOT want to fight against power tools now COME ON

So they hide in the closet. It's uncomfortable in here. They're trying to stay quiet and listening to the dentist mauling his way through the door. Okay smart guy now what? What'll they do when they get downstairs?

Whispering at each other, "Why that way? Why not the living room, it's a lot faster to get out through the gift shop." "... Yeah. Fine—" "What's the matter, Bill, you got a problem with the living room?" "What? No, I SAID fine. It's fine." "It took you a long time." "I was trying to figure out if that was the fastest way out—" "Oh, really??? You sure you aren't SCARED to go in there with me? You think I haven't noticed how you bolt out of the living room any time I come in? Or how you flinch every time I raise my hand?" "... I don't know what you're talking about." "Do you REALLY think I don't remember how you died." "..." "As if I could forget the best moment of my life. Watching you on your knees, begging for mercy, while I put my fist through your face like a cheap mirror—" "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" "ADMIT IT! ADMIT THAT I KILLED YOU TOO! I PLAYED JUST AS MUCH A PART IN IT AS HE DID!" "YOU DID *NOT* KILL ME, YOU *COULDN'T* HAVE KILLED ME, I'M NOT *CAPABLE* OF BEING KILLED BY SOMEONE LIKE YOU!" "*THEN WHY ARE YOU AFRAID OF ME!*" "*I'M NOT AFRAID—*"

Unsurprisingly, the dentist puts a drill through the closet door.

####

For now though: Drilliam is drilling. Bill and Stan are screaming. Bill's shouting IS THIS WORTH IT?? WAS GETTING YOUR DENTAL SCHOOL LOANS PAID OFF WORTH THIS?? DO YOU WANNA BE A MURDERER MAN and he's sobbing I CAN'T STOP NOW, I'M IN TOO DEEP this man is having the worst night, like sure he's obeying the tooth fairy but it's clear she's the bloodthirsty one here

Okay count of three Stan and Bill are kicking the door open. Bill falls flat on his ass and has to scramble back up but they manage to wedge the dentist behind the door in a corner with his drill stuck in the door. Waving at their faces, menacingly. Stupid cordless magic-powered drill. The fairy's buzzing in their faces making them swat at her, the dentist starts to wiggle out, they give the door one last hard shove to knock him off balance and then run for the stairs.

And, of course, they continue the most important discussion as they go. "WHY DOES IT MATTER to you so much whether Ford killed you or Ford *and me* killed you? Why is it SO hard to admit that I threw a punch that took you down?!" "You DIDN'T kill me, you CAN'T have killed me because YOU DON'T MATTER. YOU AREN'T IMPORTANT." "Dsklfslkjf NOT IMPORTANT ENOUGH TO *KILL* YOU?! HOW DOES THAT EVEN MAKE SENSE?!"

And Bill senses he's found a weakness he can needle. "It's true! I've looked into countless universes and you just don't matter! No matter where you go or what you do, you just AREN'T IMPORTANT! If *anything*, all you ever do is make things *worse.* You know, I first tried to work with Ford in a universe where *you don't exist*? And I couldn't do it! He wouldn't give me a chance! Because YOU weren't there to ruin his life and make him desperate enough to turn to an alien, and YOU hadn't spent your whole childhood *training* him to put up with a manipulative con artist's lies—so he'd be *ready* when he met me. Isn't that funny, Stanley?"

Bill's dragged them to a stop now so he can rip into Stan: "You were stillborn in that universe. Your brother had to grow up without a twin watching over him—so he actually learned how to make friends. Your mother was DEVASTATED that she'd lost you—but you know what's funny? I think your family loved that dead baby you more than they EVER liked the disappointment you turned out to be—"

And That's When Stan Punches Bill As Hard As He Can

Bill goes DOWN. There is blood everywhere. Oh shit Stan didn't mean to do that much damage are you okay?

And THAT'S when Stan realizes that they're in the living room. Right where Bill died. Bill goaded him into it

And Bill holds up a tooth, like, thanks for the tooth fairy bait. (Staring Stan dead in the eye with this look like, SCARED OF YOU, AM I?? WHO'S SCARED NOW)

And Stan... Stan is really big on macho, "face your fears," "stand up for yourself," "fight back" displays of masculinity. Stan's figured out Bill isn't much of a physical fighter. He might never be able to throw a punch. He's got tiny little baby hands. But—but—if his response to "I think you're scared" is plunging himself directly into the situation he's scared of, making it as terrifying as possible, and taking it without flinching... Stan, grudgingly, has to respect that. He doesn't WANT to respect that. But it's the kind of thing he respects. [when it comes to fighting, he might be able to dish it; but he can take it]

So now he kinda sorta grudgingly respects Bill. ... But also kind of feels bad for Bill? for reasons he can't quite specify. (Because it's the kind of desperate-to-prove-himself stunt that a younger Stan would have pulled, when he was scared and alone and homeless and trying to earn his fortune and a macho mask was the ONLY thing he had going for him. And he's never seen Bill like that before—all he ever saw was Mr. Big Shot Triangle who always had everything under control up until he was tricked into dying. It's never occurred to him that Bill is scrambling too. That Bill might also be lost.)

(It doesn't escape Stan that, in Bill's efforts to get under Stan's skin, Bill slipped up and called *himself* a manipulative con artist.)

But no time to wax poetic, Stan's not an introspective guy. Tooth fairy bait! A whole entire tooth! What are they gonna do with it?

I still need to figure out this part. They've gotta set a trap to catch a fairy, they've gotta separate her from the dentist, and they've got to do it extremely fast, because being stuck behind a door in the attic isn't gonna hold the dentist for THAT long

What kinda stuff traps fairies. My initial thought was "salt rings" but no i think that's demons. Not sure that works on fairies too

[iron. Not a clothes iron]

idk, chucking an iron at a fairy's head...

Like that post that's like "i know traditionally it takes a wooden stake to the heart to kill a vampire, but i think we oughta give hitting them with a pickup a shot"

It'll probably be something in the gift shop, since they're getting corralled that way. Stan hears them coming and shoves Bill through the door and follows after him. This is a very baffling experience for Bill, as the door was previously closed, and Stan didn't open it, and yet Bill is going through it, and he does not understand enough about doors to make sense of this. (It's a swinging door, it doesn't lock or latch.) The dentist is coming at the door ready to drill it (he doesn't understand swinging doors either) and obviously if he tried to hit the door it'd just swing open which would be bad news for them so Stan is like HOLD IT, that door is LOAD BEARING, if you start hacking holes in it the WHOLE SHACK COULD COME DOWN ON US! And the dentist pauses like. Now that doesn't sound right, but i don't know enough about doors to dispute it.

A load bearing door. ... that swings.

The fairy's like WHAT ARE YOU STOPPING FOR YOU IDIOT, HE'S LYING, DOORS DON'T WORK LIKE THAT— and Bill's like HEY CHECK THIS OUT. Waving his tooth around. YOU WANT THIS???

She's so outraged, YOU KNOCKED IT OUT, what if you CHIPPED IT, she's zooming for it

And Bill chucks it in... something. Undecided. Maybe I'll decide what it is later and then cleverly find a way to foreshadow it earlier in the chapter. Anyway it's totally an effective fairy trap, possibly made out of iron.

BAM, now she's TRAPPED. The dentist is dropped down on the ground to peer through the gap under the door (there's like a three inch gap at the bottom of the door) and goes NO and pounds the door. It swings a few inches open. He stares in bafflement. It swings back and hits him in the forehead. At least Bill's no longer alone in his suffering re: the mystery of doors.

Right! Looks like they've got a proper hostage situation here, don't they! If Drilliam would please drop the power tools and back away from the door. Very good. Stan picks up his bag, holds the dentist at drill point, and tells him to get walking, he'll escort him outside. Stan doesn't trust Bill with power tools, so he can stand guard over the fairy.

... which means Bill is alone with the fairy.

*So*. Bill believes they were negotiating? 🙂

She's not negotiating ANYTHING with him. Look at what he did to this poor tooth. She's hugging it.

SHE'S obeyed the letter of her treaty, even if not the spirit, and when the fairy court hears tell of this they'll back her up and come free her, and oh, THEN Bill and Stan will be in trouble—

WAIT I JUST REALIZED. HOW CAN STAN LEAVE IF HE"S HANDCUFFED TO BILL.......................

See this is wh. This is why i outline. This is. The reason i do it. Invaluable process.

Maybe the handcuff broke when Stan punched Bill. Turned out it was a cheapo flimsy chain. Maybe they're still handcuffed together and I'm just gonna have to dial back how much Bill can say to the fairy because he knows Stan is listening.

I feel like separating Stan & Bill's cuffs would be a cop out, unless I can make it a really good moment

You know what, if bill had an opportunity to talk to the fairy alone, he would've tried to rope her into getting him some help that i do NOT know how to pay off. I was gonna have him promise a tooth off of his stone corpse in return for Assistance (As Yet Undecided), but i feel like giving Bill an in with some nebulous organization of fairies might be giving him too much power too soon?? Like, "what COULD he do with a huge favor from a fairy" versus "what do I want him to currently be ABLE to do" + "what do I want people to THINK he can do," a fairy favor might be too much??

I'll try rolling with them still being chained together, see how i like that. Okay so ignore what i just said, Bill is going WITH Stan to kick out the dentist—they just shove him out the gift shop door and he stands out there making sad puppy eyes at them—and then go back to negotiate with the fairy.

And her buddies are gonna be mad when they come to get her!

Bill's like, but that's assuming they come for her, which they might just not, once they hear where she is. IF they hear where she is. She DOES know where she is, right? (Sure she does, this is the Mystery Shack.) And she does know who owns it, right? (Sure she does, he's right there—) Who REALLY owns it? (...) Are you *sure* they'll come for you here?

It doesn't matter who owns this place, HE'S been gone for decades— Oh, has he? You sure about that? You didn't think it strange that an odd person with magical teeth and weird eyes—a real bonafide freak—happens to be in this shack, getting escorted around by handcuffs? That didn't make you ask any questions?

Stan puts a threatening hand on Bill's shoulder like *hey, easy how much you spill*—most people don't notice Bill doesn't look quite human until he points it out—and seeing *that* gesture terrifies the fairy more than anything else Bill said, like oh shit, he's not bluffing, she's been hunting somebody else's prisoner.

So how about this. If *she* promises to leave and never harass them again, *they* promise not to wake up the jailer and ask how he wants to deal with her. Because Bill just wants to be left alone, and he assumes Stan just wants to go back to bed—but *him,* oh, he wouldn't hesitate to pin her wings to a board. Sound fair?

Yes, yes, it's fair, she'll leave them alone! Just let her go!

Great. 🙂 Oh, and one more thing. His payment for that tooth?

She gives Bill a gold tooth. 😠 And they let her go. She's a fairy, her word's as good as law. If she promised not to bother them again then she won't. Can't lie.

... so. What was all that about the true owner of the shack?

Oh haha yeah! Fordsy's got a bit of a reputation around the town's paranormal community. He actually wasn't much more personable with the freaks he was studying than he was with the other humans in town—he had a tendency to catch, study, release. One or two times he *didn't* release. Rumors grow with time. And well, if it's useful to pretend to be one of his specimens...

The idea of keeping a person (a person!) prisoner to study does Not sit well with Stan. "You're *not* one of his specimens." "No? Has he been studying me?" "Of COURSE not" but now he's thinking about it.

... Well. Back to sleep? ("Are you gonna let me sleep in the guest room now?" "*No.*" "Aww, I thought we'd bonded a little!" "After all the horrible shit you said earlier??" "Haha you're too sensitive.")

......... WAS the horrible shit Bill said true? Or did he just say it to get a rise out of Stan.

Naaah, he just thought it would be funny to make Stan mad. He never saw a universe where Stan and Ford weren't inseparable as kids. But then he never dug that hard. It wasn't one of his priorities.

Stan doesn't think Bill's telling the truth now; but Stan doesn't think Bill was telling the truth earlier, either. Bill's not telling Stan what the multiverse is like; Bill's telling Stan how he wants Stan to feel. Bill *could* have said everything he'd said was true, but he didn't.

"You're not a half bad liar, Cipher. It's too bad you're a lousy dirtbag bent on world domination, or you could've made a decent partner-in-crime." "Yeah? Well, my schedule's clear, I'm bored, and running a two-man con sounds fun. Let me know." "Don't count on it."

The end.

Epilogue: next morning Ford goes "did you two sleep well?" (He's not actually asking Bill he's just asking Stan. He hopes Bill got an annoying crick in his neck that'll never go away.) "Oh yeah, no problem. Got comfortable and didn't move all night." "We barely even noticed the handcuffs. Slept like babies." Well, Ford's relieved nothing weird happened last night.

There's a knock at the door. He'll get that.

It's a very sad and bedraggled dentist. Can he please have his ability to open doors back? He had to sleep outside last night. 8,C

... only the person who cast the spell can lift it. Hey Bill, get in here. "Slept like babies," huh?

The end end

####

[everything after this is various points in other conversations where I was discussing the where & how the tooth fairy arc would fit with the overall story, to show you what kind of plotting-over-time I do for the big elements of a story.]

You know what I'm gonna go with a tooth fairy. The show's featured gnomes, mermaids, subterranean dinosaurs preserved in tree sap, and Cupid. A tooth fairy works.

A dentist who worships the tooth fairy. The fairy gets a glimpse of Bill and goes "WOW I've never had ALIEN TEETH before! *Bring them to me.*"

[hell yeah alien teeth]

####

And probably the chapter after that is gonna be Stan Takes Bill To The Dentist. Where Bill goes "you don't have to worry about me running off, we can use the friendship bracelets." "Oh ill friendship bracelet YOU. And I'll do it WITHOUT MAGIC." *slaps actual real handcuffs on himself and Bill. Loses the key.*

####

He played himself. I think I'm gonna have them be handcuffed through the ENTIRE tooth fairy arc. I think it would be really funny.

Ford like "Bill, why are you sitting in the hallway outside my guest room."

"Because SOMEBODY decided to HANDCUFF US TOGETHER and then LOST THE KEY so I have to SLEEP IN THE HALLWAY with the HANDCUFF CHAIN STRUNG UNDER THE DOOR. ISN'T THAT RIGHT, *STANLEY.*"

"Right. ... I'm going to sleep in my lab tonight."

####

Things going on:

- Stan unwillingly getting dragged into his "befriending the evil triangle" arc. Woe, friendship be upon ye.

- Bill copes with traumas by setting himself up to relive them until they stop hurting. Burning down your dimension devastated you? Become a serial arsonist, stare into the flames over and over again! Flinch every time the guy they punched you to death raises a fist? Goad him into following through, now it's not scary anymore!

####

Where I am right now: Mabel has just won Bill's loyalty forever. Where I need to get to: the next "episode," which is *probably* gonna be Stan taking Bill to the dentist and getting tangled up with the tooth fairy, unless I come up with another plot I think might be more appropriate to come first. I feel like I can't just hop straight into the next episode, because Mabel's JUST befriended Bill, so I need to spend a little time showing them BEING friends so that that convincingly sticks. And I can't "just" show them hanging out coloring pictures or whatever, I've gotta have something, like, *happen.*

####

Today's mission: figure out how to jigsaw in all the plot points I need to establish before the season one finale (when [SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS].)

I've made a list of all the things I'm pretty sure need to happen:

- Bill makes progress on lucid dreaming

- Stan emotionally invests in Bill

--- ( this will be the Tooth fairy arc)

- Ford decides Bill isn't gonna kill them

--- the eclipse

- Ford likes Bill a tiny bit

- Dipper decides Bill is harmless

--- (I'm planning a gag where bill gets accidentally locked in the bathroom all day, this'll achieve that)

- Dipper decides Bill might be useful

--- (The eclipse)

- Bill makes contact with cultists

--- (cultist visits shack looking for bill)

- Bill finds a way to sneak outside

- conversation with dipper about the third dimension

- Fiddleford finishes the gun

--- (this will probably necessitate another Fiddleford visit)

This isn't everything that COULD happen before the season 1 finale, but it's the BARE MINIMUM everything that needs to get done.

####

There's plenty of other things that could happen before or after this, but i might need a better idea of how I want to shape season 2 before I can decide what to put before and what to put after

Like, the monster truck plot. I'm toying with whether I want it before the s1 finale (which would mean Bill can use Gideon to make contact with his cultists) or after (which would mean [SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS])

Somebody else put this together into a coherent plot arc for me o|-<

I keep pushing back writing the tooth fairy arc because i keep going "no wait, i thought of something else i need to do first—" and part of that is because, i feel like, once the tooth fairy arc happens, that kicks in gear Bill interacting with Gideon (because then he's got a gold tooth), which naturally leads to the monster truck arc, which is a big event, so anything that needs to happen "early" in the fic needs to happen before then—but if i do decide to push the monster truck arc to later on, that's less of a concern. Instead I could spend more time on foreshadowing Bill messing with Gideon.

[vote push it back]

you may have a point. The main thing is if i push it back, it would make the most sense to go in season 2 (when [SPOILERS SPOILERS]), BUT: one of the things I'd *like* to do with the finale is [SPOILERS SPOILERS x100] which needs Gideon. (Alternatively, I could make up some new, lower-key method for Bill to get Gideon under his thumb without meeting him at the monster truck rally—but I'd have to think up some Whole New Plot that's Interesting enough for that.)

####

Okay so i think my rough roadmap is. Tooth fairy plot -> Gideon chapter -> the axolotl eclipse -> the season finale. These four events contain most of my "MUST be done before the finale" events

####

I think the "makes progress on lucid dreaming" can be achieved during the Gideon chapter. I can bookend the chapter with a couple of his efforts, to show how he progresses over the chapter. *Maybe* I can shove one into the tooth fairy chapter, have a dream be interrupted by the dentist waking him

Yeah, there are two dreams I know I want to happen; a replay of Bill's mom dying where he "remembers"/admits that when he realized he hurt his mom, he *kept on pushing*; and a second replay where he seizes control of the dream and rewrites it so that it's like a big fun gory game (and thus re-burying the traumatic reality of what happened). I can put those at the beginning and end of Gideon's chapter.

####

Okay I think my current road map is:

tooth fairy -> bill figures out how to sneak out/dipper finds bill locked in the bathroom -> Gideon (+lucid dreaming) -> (Bill talks to Dipper about how he perceived the universe, leading to) The Eclipse -> Ford brings home a copy of Flatworld, letting the kids learn more about Bill's backstory/Fiddleford tells Ford the gun is ready, leading to -> the season one finale.

We're in the final stretch! No more random diversions, probably!

####

#anonymous #ask #about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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here4kpopfics · 1 year

Text

Just A Moment | Choi San

Pairing: Choi San x reader

Genre: comfort fluff

AU: idol!au | established relationship

Wordcount: 775

Summary: Life’s not on your side lately, and you just need a moment of peace.

Warnings: Just sickening amounts of fluff and talks of life just sucking but nothing really mentioned.

Rating: PG15 just to be safe.

AN: Uh, yes. Hello. I said I’d never write more than BTS and Seventeen and ONE single Yeonjun fic. But I have soft feelings after seeing San sleeping with a body pillow and being all cuddly with anyone he can cuddle with. This is for my beautiful @baljinciaga who I felt like could use some San cuddles lately. I love you, bby. I hope you like it. And thank you to @classicscreations for the banner/divider. Unedited bc I'm lazy.

Masterlist | Taglist | AskBox | Coffee? | Patreon

It’s too late to be here, but you’ve been on edge all day and just need to see him. You don’t care if you get into trouble. You sent a text to Wooyoung asking if it was possible to get into the dorms and he was more than willing to help.

“Thank you, Woo. I promise I’ll be out early.” your voice waivers a little as you quietly follow the boy into the shared apartment.

“You can stay as long as you want, y/n. You know we don’t mind. I know San would prefer it, too.” you both smile, but yours doesn’t meet your eyes as you cast them down to the floor. Wooyoung tilts his head to the side, eyebrows pinched together, as he whispers now that you’re in the apartment, “but…I feel like I gotta ask, y/n. Is everything okay?”

“Uhh,” you pause, kicking your shoes off and dropping your stuff on the kitchen counter, “I don’t actually know how to answer that? It’s just…I will be okay. Just…right now, I need him.” Wooyoung says nothing more, giving you a quick, but tight, hug, kissing your head, and heading to his own room after wishing you a goodnight. You nod as he leaves, turning to walk down the opposite hallway, towards where your heart’s been craving to be all week.

You crack the door open as slowly as you can, trying to make as little noise as possible. The room is dark, only lit by the television that he never remembers to turn off before he falls asleep.

Your heart wants to burst from the sight of him curled up on his side, clutching a body pillow like a lifeline. His cheek is squished against the pillow and he looks so soft and innocent in comparison to when he’s on stage being what you deemed “an absolute demon”. As much as you love him on stage, there’s nothing better than your soft and loving Choi San.

“San?” you whisper, softly closing the door behind you. He doesn’t respond as you take your jeans off, haphazardly folding them and setting them on a chair. You grab one of his shirts that’s easily accessible and remove your own shirt, doing the same as you did with the jeans and throwing on his shirt instead.

“San, baby?” you try again, just a little louder as you crawl into his bed and under the covers, slotting yourself on your side facing him. His arm instinctively reaches around you, pulling you close. Your arm wraps around his back, hand cradling the back of his head to tuck him under your head like you’ve done a million times. His legs find their way between yours, entangling them together.

It takes another minute before he finally hums, inhaling your scent, and pulling his head back as he opens his eyes.

“y/n? What are you doing here?” God, his sleepy voice is way more attractive than anything in the world. You smile, pushing his hair back to kiss his forehead.

“Wooyoung let me in. I know I’m not supposed to be here, but…” your smile fades, letting your hand slide down from his hair to cup the side of his face not against the pillow, thumb soothing over his cheekbone, “I just needed a moment with you.”

“Did something happen?” He’s waking up a little bit more now, growing more and more concerned with every second your expression grows more and more sad. “What happened, baby?”

“Nothing,” your voice reduces to a soft squeak, “I just feel like nothing is going right and just everything sucks and…I miss you.”

“Oh, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, San. Your job is your job. I know what I signed up for. Whatever this feeling is that has me so on edge is the problem. But, I can feel it lessening now that I’m here.” You don’t miss the way he grins, pulling you impossibly closer, even with the body pillow between you two.

“Then you stay here as long as you need to, baby. Stay for as many hours, as many days, weeks, months. Stay forever if it means keeping a smile on your face.”

“We both know that’s not possible, but I like the idea of it.” You smirk, shifting to a more comfortable position.

“One day, baby. One day.” his words trail off as he falls back asleep rather quickly and you have the hold back on the giggle you want to make. You give his forehead another kiss as you feel yourself drifting off to sleep, finally feeling a small jolt of happiness and contentment.

Everyone deserves San cuddles. 💜💜

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undiscovered-horizon · 2 years

Text

"Mirror, mirror on the wall" - Keoghan!Joker x Detective!Reader

[TW: scars, mentions of past abuse]

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

SUMMARY: A scar is not equal to another scar. Despite that, survivors are pretty much the same. Joker meets a detective who's not so easy to impress or intimidate.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.6k

A/N: got inspired by playing 'Still Life' for the hundredth time. Old game but still great and highly replayable.

Gordon wasn't one to joke around, especially when it came to the life and safety of Gotham and its citizens. Still, you couldn't believe he was absolutely serious:

"Look as much as I hate to say it if there’s someone who can get some sense out of that madman, it’s you," Gordon confessed.

He's been at this for the entire week, no matter what excuse you gave him. Normally, he would be a lot more civil and drop the subject the moment you said "no" for the first time but, unfortunately for you, he was a little too desperate. You knew he simply cared and felt like there was nothing else he could do to push the investigation forward. It was that uncharacteristic pushiness that made you question your own will - if there truly was no one else and Gordon was crumbling feeling powerless, maybe you could take a leap out of your comfort zone and into the deep, dark chasm of uncharted trauma.

"Why me, Gordon?" you asked in a weak voice. Truthfully, you weren't sure why you were even asking him that question - you knew perfectly well why.

"You've been through shit, detective. Shit I can't put into words. You got a good look into a psycho's mind and came out alive. You survived history's worst and that changes people."

Elegant euphemisms were one of the reasons Gordon was so good with people. He knew that "change" barely scratched the surface of what happened to you.

"What about your bat partner in crime?"

The officer stood with his hands on his hips. He shook his head slightly before answering you.

"Batman may be good, really damn good but he lacks your self-control. Get him in a room with that guy and he’ll scream and bang on the glass like he did with the Riddler. Maybe even worse. And that ain’t gon’ get us anything useful out of him."

Gordon was right. You knew that, although didn't want to admit it as admitting it would rid you of all of your excuses and you'd have to face and make use of something that murdered a part of you years ago. A scar had to become a medal.

"Alright," you said quietly. Gordon's shoulders momentarily slouched. "I'll try but no promises."

"Good enough for me. Thank you, detective. I know how much this costs you."

"No, you don't, Gordon."

He didn't try to argue or reason. There was no way in which he could relate to your experience - to that dark basement and rusty chains. Although it gnawed at him, that he couldn't offer genuine understanding and sympathy to someone he cared about, Gordon was secretly relieved, even happy, that he was unable to. He saw how those terrifying days changed you, made you into an entirely new person and he lived in fear of what they would have done to him.

You would live a happy life never stepping foot on Arkham Island. The barbed wire, neogothic buildings, unkept gardens - all of that painted a grim picture of an already unwelcoming place. Arkham Asylum looked like Tim Burton's theme park joke was taken too far.

"My condolences, ma'am," the guardian who was leading you said. "Over here, we do everything not to end up in the same room with that freak and you came here willingly."

"Wouldn't call that 'willingly'," you said under your breath. Had Gordon appeared any less desperate or powerless, you wouldn't have agreed.

"Warden Sharp agreed to one hour interview," the guardian continued. He stopped in front of the door to the visiting room, his hand resting on the door handle. "If you need more time, your supervisor gotta send in a query. I know you probably know all the rules but I'm still required to tell you them, so: don't touch the divider, don't provoke him, don't hand out any prohibited objects. The guards are authorized to step in and immediately end the interview should they deem the situation dangerous for either party. Good luck with whatever you have going on, detective."

The guard gave you a sympathetic look and pushed the door open. For some reason, the lighting was outstandingly dim inside the room. While the side where the prisoners sat was bright, the visitors could barely see anything on theirs. Without a hint of anxiety in your step or facial expression, you entered the visiting room.

Once he got to see your outline in the corridor lights, Joker's eyes kept following each of your movements and microexpressions. Even when the bizarre darkness made you disappear for a moment, it felt as if he was still capable of seeing not only you but through you. There was a mischievous yet amused smile on his face. His visual did not terrify you - it no longer could. One simply cannot get scared of clowns after playing statues with the Devil himself.

"I'm a detective with the Gotham Police Department," you said as you sat down and pulled out the file you brought. "We're investigating recent bombings happening throughout the city."

"Sorry, sweetheart, can't remember making anything go ka-byool lately." His handcuffs rattled as he waved his fingers to accentuate his point. Joker's hands were drenched with already dried blood. That sight hit a little too close to home for you but you took a calm, deep breath and didn't let your sudden uneasiness show.

"Maybe not you but one of your old friends possibly had."

You pulled a few papers stuck together with a paperclip out of the police file. Carefully, you slid the small dossier through the small opening in the Plexi divider. It was a very 'train station booking office' design.

At the very top of the papers was a mugshot. The picture presented a heavily tattooed man with a bizarre haircut and a harelip: Cooper, who used to be something akin to an underboss before his boss, Joker, got locked up. Curiously, Cooper seemed to literally vanish off the face of Earth as soon as that happened.

Joker barely spared a glance at the picture when he voiced an opinion with utmost certainty:

"Nah, it's not him."

He pushed the papers back towards you with disinterest. It shouldn't be surprising: he surely knew more about Cooper and his possible associates than the police did. You couldn't tell him anything new.

"What makes you say that?" you asked. Joker only laughed.

"He's an absolute, complete, useless moron. He lacks the, hmm... " he paused looking for the right word while waving his hands, "sophistication for something this big."

"And yet he was your go-to for so many years. How did that work out?"

"Darling, you know what's great about working with idiots?"

"They don't ask questions?"

"Oh, you were so close!" he exclaimed giddily. "They don't question."

Were all antisocial people so nitpicky?

Although the building was old and made of stone, the air inside was very warm. Feeling a little hot, you rolled up the sleeves of your shirt, reluctantly presenting the very thing that made you eligible for that lovely interrogation you were conducting: various burns and scars left from chains digging into your skin. At least once a day you considered getting full sleeve tattoos to cover them up but it wasn't considered exactly professional among higher ranked police force. You didn't need another stigma following you and your career.

"It's you." Joker cackled with mysterious satisfaction. Was he expecting you? Truthfully, it wouldn't be so surprising: your survival made national news and the demimonde, directly connected to your capturing, could only be equally interested. "Please, indulge me, princess peach."

"How about you tell me what you know about the bombings and I'll tell you about what gives me sleepless nights."

"Aw, you're trynna tease me, officer?" His pronunciation of the title was at least mocking. It didn't impress him one bit and neither did the badge. "I don't like teases. They ruin the fun."

"Treat it as a fair exchange. Intel," you pointed at yourself first, "for intel." You pointed at Joker to make your point.

"And what if you're boring, princess peach?" he asked with a whine in his voice. "Who will guarantee my fun time?"

"No one," you answered with a shrug. Although that wicked smile never left his face, you thought that a shadow of viciousness appeared in his eyes. Something about your aloofness was getting to him. "You either play with fire or there's no deal. Just you and your sad little life in your sad little cell. No fun for either of us."

"Risky business, princess peach," he sang to you.

You had to make him cooperate somehow or anyhow. Momentarily, you leaned closer to the Plexi divider. The tip of your nose was nearly touching it. Joker's smile only widened.

"You tell me what I want and I'll tell you everything you want to know," you said quietly. "Every darkest, most fearful memory I have. You want to hear what he did to me and how? How loud I prayed to God to finally kill me? First, you gotta tell me about Cooper and who he could be working with."

Joker was quiet but appeared very cocky in his silence. For a moment he was simply staring at you, his eyes studying your face - he was evidently waiting for something.

"I'm looking forward to our little dates, sweetheart."

It was suspicious to you that between you and Joker, he was the one imprisoned and yet he seemed to be the only one enjoying himself. He wasn't stupid - he knew you needed him more than he needed you. In fact, he probably had figured out that if Gotham's police goes to him for help, you must be in a really hopeless place. Joker was going to milk your little arrangement as much as he could - that you were already certain of.

#joker x reader #joker x detective!reader #the batman 2022 #the batman fanfiction #the batman fanfic #the batman imagine #joker imagine #joker fanfiction #joker fanfic #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker fanfic #the joker x detective!reader #the joker x you #keoghan!joker x you #keoghan!joker imagine #keoghan!joker fanfiction #keoghan!joker #keoghan!joker x reader

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tobiasdrake · 7 months

Text

Well, that was an unmitigated disaster. What else have you got for me?

YES. Is it a murder? Kidnapping? Missing persons? All of the above?

Oh. Well, I guess that technically counts as a missing persons case. Hey, maybe they're dead and I'll get to find their killer!

Either way, it gets me out of the sub for a bit and, finally, away from Yakou.

That's... an interesting question, actually. We still know nothing about how this shinigami contract even came to be a thing we would know about and perform. One over there is supposed to be the greatest detective ever and Shinigami has a slant towards mysteries so maybe they do--

Okay yeah, she definitely knows One. My guess is he's responsible for our contract in some way.

Oh good, a collect-a-thon. Well, at least it has narrative rewards. I always like narrative rewards for collectibles. Makes me motivated to give a shit.

I mean, I'm going to wind up collecting them either way because I'm neurodivergent and like to collect things. But I'll be less sour about it if I get story stuff in payment!

Though she goes on to clarify that I can't have the memories I sold her back; These just let me see hangout moments with the other Detectives that I inexplicably forgot. So these basically function like the Free Time Events, letting us see moments of chilling with the other characters, shooting the shit and learning about them.

Well, guess that means I can check out my first big social event and spend some more time with....

Yakou....

*sigh* I cannot get away from this man for five minutes.

You know, Yakou's actually making some sense here. I've been (and will likely continue to be) pretty critical of him for being so adamantly against the work we're here to do.

But his point here isn't wrong. All work is work. Dividing people into classes based on whose work is superior will cause you to break out in business executives.

At the end of the day, Yakou's freaking out because this just isn't the work for him. He's happy tailing cheaters and finding lost puppies. And if that makes him feel fulfilled, then who am I to judge?

You do you, man. I gotta admit, I've gained a little bit of respect for you from--

I was gonna make a joke here but actually, nah. This is only a punchline due to a cultural philosophy of nigh-fetishistic reverence for the act of working as if it is virtuous in and of itself. This is, itself, one of the nasty hooks that capitalism wriggles into its peasant class to wring labor out of them.

Teaching you that Work = Virtue is a way to get you to undervalue your own labor. "You should want to work, you should do it just to do it, the act of labor is its own reward!" No. Fuck you. Pay me.

So. No. I'm not going to make fun of Yakou for this (even though the writing definitely wants me to). He is absolutely right. A good drink that you worked hard to earn tastes pretty sweet, and a good drink you didn't need to work for tastes even sweeter. The drink is the reward. The labor is just a means to an end.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code #yakou furio

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dungeoneering102 · 1 year

Text

MECHANUS: Culture & Law

(art credit to Chris McDowall’s book - Electric Bastionland)

So I’m currently working on a small two-shot that will take place in Mechanus, the Plane of Absolute Law (from the current D&D cosmology). I’ve been working on designing a point crawl and developing the Capital City of Mechanus, which I named Bastion (a direct rip-off of Chris McDowall’s Electric Bastionland book).

While working on this, I started on my regular process of designing a city, and decided to share some of it with you guys. My first step in designing ANY large settlement.

The process is simple: break it down into smaller pieces and define what they are. From there, fill each piece with ideas. So join me, as I brainstorm the template for a new city.

Cities as Districts

To better manage a city as DMs, it’s best if we divide them up into smaller segments. Districts or boroughs are good way of doing that. We can further divide those into Streets or Neighborhoods if we need to.

Most cities can be simplified into a few key districts required to run it:

Administrative District. This is where the city government is! This is the king’s court, the guards’ HQ, the city hall, maybe even the city dungeon. It’s the BEST defended and patrolled area.

Industrial District. A city survives on what it makes. The goods a city produces travel out to generate income. Furthermore, industry provides jobs to the denizens of a city. Every city usually has one or two different industries - from coal mining to rice farming. You can even make up more unique industries that power a city, like film and theater.

Mercantile District. People tend to want stuff - food, furniture, etc. And not everyone is going to make their own stuff. So Merchants come into play. These are craftsmen and salesmen of various goods who provide to people that can’t (or won’t) provide themselves.

Sin District. Every town worth it’s salt has one of these - the slum filled with shining casinos and loud taverns, where people go to forget their worries. It’s vices might not be morally wrong, but they still are vices.

Poor & Rich Districts. These depend on the city you make. If you want to make an economic utopia or don’t care to highlight different classes of citizens, you can just combine these into Residential District. Otherwise, these are the homes of the poor and the noble, the destitute and the wealthy. There should be obvious differences between these. It’s hard to get into the Rich District due to borders and gates, its hard to get out of Poor Districts due to its sheer size and overwhelming nature.

Academic District. Most towns have districts dedicated to their schools, academic pursuits, scientific labs, wizard towers, what have you. Here gather the minds of the future!

Recreational Districts. These are parks, art quarters, gardens, and other places of relaxation and distraction that people can visit when they’re feeling bored. These locations may be gated behind status and luxury or they may be open to all who will come by.

This ☝️ all is of course an oversimplification of what a city makes. But I’m just a DM and I gotta prep a session in 2 days, so I don’t have time for complex systems. Simple and easy. But if you got time and energy, I welcome anyone to come up with more complex systems of city design. If you’re interested, I can share some pointers. Consider:

Ptolus: City by the Spire, by Monte Cook. It’s considered one of the most comprehensive guides to a SINGL city.

Spire: the City Must Fall, by Rowan, Rook, & Decard. It’s a system and a setting, but man what a setting it is.

In the Cage: A Guide to Sigil, by Wolfgang Baur. It’s an old school, D&D 2e guide to Sigil, the city in the center of the universe in the Planescape setting. One of my favorites.

(art credit to Strata: A Spire RPG Sourcebook, by Rowan, Rook, & Decard)

On the other hand, if you want simpler city design ideas, look here:

Electric Bastionland, by Chris McDowell. Check the GM’s section for EXCELLENT advice on quick and easy design of cities, dungeons, and wilderness.

Fever Dreaming Marlinko, by the Hydra Cooperative. It’s a great pseudo-slavic fantasy city with nice, crunchy details.

Worlds Without Number, by Kevin Crawford. Has one of the BEST DM toolsets I’ve ever seen - including stuff for designing cities.

#Dungeons and Dragons #dungeons & dragons #dnd #d&d #tabletop RPGs #ttrpg #rpg #city building #writing advice #city #districts #rpg design #DM advice #Dungeon Master advice #yep

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munson-blurbs · 7 months

Note

I’m torn between snickers and sour patch kids with butterfinger and Steve Harrington, so I’ll leave the first part up to you and your genius mind 🩵

I did a lil bit of both, bb. I hope you like it!

Forced proximity/Shy!Reader/Steve Harrington

Warnings: Steve is an ass (kind of enemies-to-lovers), semi-public making out, mention of a boner hehe

WC: 1k

Divider credit to @saradika

“Okay, so,” Steve starts, adjusting his company-required sailor hat, “there’s a whole method to getting the proper scoop. You can’t just go plunging in all willy-nilly.” He dunks the ice cream scooper into the vat of mint chocolate chip and creates a perfect sphere, plopping it into the empty cup with a triumphant smile. “Now, it’s your turn.”

You hesitantly take the scooper from his outstretched hand. “Yeah, okay.” This was supposed to be a fun summer job–a way to make some extra money before heading off to college in the fall. But you’ve only been here for two days, and Steve has been breathing down your neck the entire time.

You lean over to try and mimic his motions when he makes an obnoxious buzzer noise. “Nope, you gotta hold it in the middle, not the end.” He huffs out with an eye roll. “Here, I’ll show you. Again.”

That’s the final straw; the tears you’ve been holding back force their way forward. You dart into the walk-in freezer and let the heavy door slam behind you before breaking down into a sobbing fit.

“Hey! What the hell?” Steve drops the scooper, flips the “open” sign to “closed,” and follows after you. Light floods the freezer as he swings the door open, pulling it shut with a barely audible click. “What are you doing?”

You wipe your tear-stained cheeks, desperate not to let him see you cry. “I quit!” Your words are wobbly, and you push yourself up off of the ground as quickly as you can.

“You quit?!” He sputters, crossing his arms over his chest. “You haven’t even been here for two full shifts!”

“And you’ve made every last second of them miserable,” you mumble under your breath, reaching for the door handle. You pull it down, but the door doesn’t budge. Once more with some force leads to the same results.

You turn to Steve, who’s watching with a horrified look on his face. “Shit, shit, shit!” he mutters, yanking on the handle without success. “We’re, uh, locked in.”

Thanks, Einstein, you think wryly, but keep that retort to yourself. Instead, you slump back down and bury your head in your hands.

Steve sits next to you, knocking his knee into yours. “Robin’ll be here for her shift soon,” he says, “and then you can leave and never see me again.” When you don’t respond, he sighs and stands up, grabbing something from one of the shelves. You watch as he pulls out a whiteboard divided into two columns and uses the dry-erase marker to add a tally to the side labeled “YOU SUCK.”

“Wh-What’s that?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

“Oh, uh,” Steve shrugs, “just this stupid thing Robin made for whenever I inevitably screw up my chances with a pretty girl. Figured I’d beat her to the punch this time.”

You nod; he must’ve been flirting with a customer earlier today before you’d arrived. “Who was it?”

Steve cocks an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Who was the pretty girl? Did she go to Hawkins High?”

He nearly chokes on his own saliva. “Are…you can’t be serious.” When you only offer him a confused look, he lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “It’s you, all right? With your cute smile and the way you laugh…” He trails off, shaking his head.

It takes you several moments to process what he’s just said. “Me?!” you finally manage. There’s no way; there’s absolutely no way…

“You,” Steve confirms, nervously tucking a thumbnail between his teeth.

“If you…then why have you been…”

“An asshole?” he shoots you a guilty smile, raking his fingers through his hair. Even slightly mussed, it looks perfect. “That’s because in addition to being an asshole, I’m also an idiot. And I, uh, tried to convince myself that I hated you so that I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

You nod slowly, processing what he’s just told you. “That is…” you suck your teeth, “the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

His laughter is genuine this time, and he shakes his head as he says, “Yeah…not my best idea.” He looks at you with wide eyes. “I do think you’re beautiful, though. And also really sweet and smart and, um, stuff.”

Despite the chill from literally being refrigerated, you feel heat creeping up your neck. “Steve, you don’t have to be nice to me now just because you feel bad,” you say softly, unable to meet his gaze.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice is barely audible over the whir of the freezers. He takes your hand in his. “I like you. A lot. And I’m sorry I was such a shit head the last few days. Can we have a do-over?”

You giggle, and when you duck to hide your face, he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, nudging it slightly upwards.

“I’m Steve,” he whispers, “and I’m going to kiss you now.” He ducks down and presses his lips to yours, gently parting them with his tongue. You accept his touch eagerly, melding your body with his.

Steve presses you up against the wall, his leg between yours. Hands glide up over your uniform, not daring to explore underneath quite yet. You cautiously tug on his little neckerchief, pulling him even closer.

You want more. You need more. You–

“Oh, my God! In the freezer? This is where we keep food!”

Steve jumps backwards, clearly embarrassed to be caught. “Jesus, Robin. A warning would’ve been nice.”

“I could say the same for you,” she bites back. “Go home, Steve. Your shift was over ten minutes ago.”

You shuffle out as quickly as possible, trying to hide your humiliation. Steve follows suit, but not before Robin mutters to him, “Nice boner, Casanova. Real subtle.”

“Shut up, Robs.” He adjusts himself over his pants, shifting his apron to better cover the evidence.

Robin rolls her eyes, catching sight of her infamous white board as she goes to shut the door. With a sigh, she begrudgingly adds the first-ever tally to the “YOU RULE” side.

#trope or treat #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things

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akkpipitphattana · 2 years

Text

okay like i have just so many fucking thoughts on tesstun and it drives me crazy knowing that we are absolutely not gonna get any further info on them beyond maybe a few nuggets next week when they go back to the au, so here i am making a post about them. this got way longer than expected so gonna add a read more option sjkfdsf

okay so, to start with what we know: tess and tun have known each other since high school, they were good friends (based on the pic of tun on tess's back) until tess ditched tun's film project and then they started "hating" each other. except tun never actually hated tess and ended up falling for him more than he already had, only for tess to date anna. anna breaks up with tess to protect tun's feelings and then there's awkward tension between them before talay and tess switch bodies. THEN, while they were in the other universe, tun hires tess to be his manager, tess causes him some "financial issues" and hurts tun in some way, tun fires him, and then they switch back not long after that. and then next week, puen and talay are gonna wake up in the same bed when they go back to the other universe, meaning that tesstun will be sleeping in the same bed. also, based purely on the logic of the (minimal) world building, tesstun are soulmates because puentalay are soulmates.

now the thing that gets me the most about all of this very minimal information is that despite tess being the body of the main character for most of the show... we know the least about him. as he's been portrayed, he's just a one dimensional spoiled asshole that doesn't give a fuck about anyone else.

except that doesn't make sense! because tess has great friends that love him, he has tun who fell in love with him despite being an asshole. and tun is a great guy from what we've seen of him! he's caring and protective of his friends and he's smart. and i just have a very hard time believing that tun would fall for tess if he was just a dick and nothing else. i personally think there's more to tess than that. that despite definitely being spoiled, there's gotta be some softer, sweeter side to him that tun has gotten to see before. also, i feel like tess definitely got the asshole tendencies from his dad, i mean the guy's son was in the hospital and man did not give a FUCK.

so, with all of that in mind, this is how i imagine their story going: tess and tun meet in high school and become close friends. tun develops a bit of a crush but obviously doesn't say anything to tess, ends up inviting him to act in the film him and his friend mek are producing. tess ditches them on the day of filming to hang out with some girl because he doesn't realize the importance of it. mek and tun agree to never work with him again. tun later blows up on tess for being a shithead, explains how important this was for them and how they almost missed the deadline because of him. tess realizes how much he fucked up and apologizes, leading to tun forgiving him and while there is still a divide between them, they remain somewhat friendly.

though, they don't see each other much after graduation until tun comes to sell his screenplay to 26 pictures. around then they reconnect and build up their friendship, tun falls hard again and starts to think that tess might feel the same... when he starts dating anna. their friendship isn't the same after that and tess isn't quite sure why. the relationship just doesn't work, but anna ends up breaking things off when she realizes what tun feels for tess and feels bad about it. tess tries to talk to tun about it, but tun has been weird and distant, avoiding him like the plague all the way up until tess gets beat up because he flirted with a girl who was taken and almost dies, so tun calls the ambulance for him. only tun goes back to ignoring him right after.

then they both end up in a completely different universe. tess is there for roughly two months on his own, ends up finding probably his own phuwadol that helps him learn the ropes. only tess isn't as careful as talay is and doesn't think to contact his friends, doesn't think as much about the consequences of being rude to talay's family because he has never really been close with his own. probably ends up depressed because he's alone and doesn't know anyone. that is until through his job as a colorist, he runs into "puen"... who he soon realizes is someone else entirely. tess and tun reconcile and tun offers tess a job as his manager, causing tess to quite the colorist job without so much as a second thought. spoiled tess, however, isn't all that responsible with money and ends up costing tun a lot of it by making a bunch of irresponsible decisions. more than that, though, some big blow out fight happens between them (possibly involving tun's feelings?) that leads to tun firing tess.

with them back in their own universe and everyone thinking they're dating now, there's no better time for them to work things out. they get together... only for them to be sent back to the other universe after their first night together.

wow did this get long. anyways, this is mostly me just grasping at straws and throwing things together with the very limited information we've gotten on the two, but since i know we're not gonna get much more next week, i can decide this is canon as much as i want!

#i rewatched like every clip with info on tess and tun for this are you happy #this is literally almost a thousand words #girl. get help #vice versa #tesstun #my analysis #mine

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stars-of-kyber · 2 years

Note

I just read your newest one-shot "Your favorite things" and absolutely loved it! Could I make a request for a fic? Could you write about Anthony helping Kate deal with post-partum depression after having Edmund?

HELLO!

Gotta be honest here, you got me working like crazy with this prompt. It’s a bit far from my comfort zone and on such a sensitive topic like this, I ended up spending a bunch of time reading about PPD on the internet. But it was great to push myself like this. Thank you.

Actually, like most stuff, it got away from me and started getting pretty long, so I decided to divide it into two chapters. I’m posting the first part now and I’ll finish the second one in the next few days, hopefully. I’ll have it here and on my AO3 account.

Well, I hope I did your request justice and I’d love to hear your opinions on it.

Enjoy!

———————————————————————

Viscountess Kathani Bridgerton loved her son. She really did. Edmund was a lovely little thing, with coppery skin and a shocking amount of chestnut-coloured curly hair and he looked so much like Anthony it was startling. And he cried. A lot. Every single time she’d try to hold him, to be specific. And he refused to latch, he simply did not want her to feed him at all. But she really did love him.

She was just tired all the time, despite the fact she spent her entire day laying in bed, so sore and exhausted. All she seemed to have the disposition to do was take a stroll around the house before retiring back to her chambers. She sometimes would sit with Anthony in the study, watching silently as he worked. Sometimes she’d walk to the kitchen for some biscuits, even if she did not really feel hungry at all. She rarely visited the nursery, though. She did not want to risk sending the baby into another crying fit. But most of the day, she’d spent holed up in the sleeping chambers she shared with her husband, alone, doing absolutely nothing at all.

And yet, when night came, sleep eluded her. She’d toss and turn, her mind refusing to be lulled into the sweet relief of slumber, watching as Anthony’s breath would even out, even if he was a horrible sleeper. Most nights she saw the moon run its course in the sky, climbing steadily before falling down, the red and orange rays of sun dawning in the early morning sky.

And she’d feel hollow. She preserved most of her strength for the daytime when she had callers, mostly just family wanting to see the baby. Mary had stayed with her until a couple of weeks after she gave birth when Kate had insisted she’d go to Edwina, who was having a very complicated beginning of her pregnancy. Mary had not wanted to go, but Kate had insisted. Edwina had no family in Prussia but her husband. She had the entire Bridgerton brood to help her.

Kate enjoyed the people coming and going to visit her and the baby. They kept her distracted, even if it was just sitting with them as they interacted around her in the usual chaotic Bridgerton manner.

The problem was when they left and she was allowed time alone with her thoughts. During those long lonely periods when Anthony was in the Parliament, or working in the office, when she’d sit, the baby sleeping in a basket next to her or taken up to the nursery and Newton by her feet, she felt so completely miserable. During the darkest hours of the night, when she’d stare at the ceiling, her darkest thoughts caused the most ridiculous wind whirl of feelings and she had to get out of bed so Anthony wouldn’t wake up to her crying.

The doctor had assured her it was most common for her to still be having humour oscillations in the first few weeks after childbirth, as the body was still adjusting to a new reality. Yet, two months had come and gone, and the oscillations had turned into a melancholy she couldn’t quite shake. And she knew Anthony had noticed and he worried about her. She could tell by the way he watched her, the purple bags under her eyes more and more pronounced, the way he noticed her food going untouched more often and tried to always have something for her to nimble if she wanted, the way she didn’t spend enough time with their adorable little baby, avoiding the nursery all together if he was awake. But he didn’t pressure her.

Every time she’d get up from bed in the middle of the night, his arms would be waiting for her, ready to tug her back close to him “in his sleep”. He’d fill their silent meals with chatter about his siblings’ antics, his latest bill in the Parliament, a spot of trouble their tenants were having, the last correspondence from his Aunt visiting Lisbon. Anything but the baby. He’d sit behind her in bed, her hairbrush in his hand as he carefully pulled her tangled curls apart as she’d sit in stony silence, staring at a fixed spot on the wall.

And she did not deserve it.

He was the sweetest, most gentle person in the world and she did nothing to warrant it. He had chosen her to share his life with, to be his partner, the mother of his children and she was failing him in every single one of the accounts. She had trouble managing the household and the staff, her mind jumbling around the words as the maid came to her with menus to approve and correspondence to reply. Most days, she couldn’t keep much of a conversation, nothing of note coming to mind as they’d sit together, his voice trying a little desperately to fill the cold silence. She was barely a mother, escaping the presence of their child altogether most of the time, watching him and the baby from afar as he visited the nursery, Anthony being the loving and doting father she’d always known he’d be. She felt guilty. She felt worthless. She was terrified of the moment her husband would realize what a mistake loving her was. Maybe there was a reason she’d always been so sure she’d have no children at all, in the end.

She broke down nine weeks and three days after Edmund was born. The nurse had brought the sleeping baby to her, placing his resting form next to her on the large bed. Even the nurse seemed to understand it was for the best if she only saw him when he was not awake. She longed to touch him, place her hand over his little chest and feel his soft breathing, but she was so, so scared he’d wake and refuse her once again, that he’d start crying. She did not want him to cry. She did not want to feel angry at his little desperate tears. She should not feel mad at her baby because he was crying.

So she sat there, just looking at him, her hands wrapped around each other carefully over her lap. It was how Anthony found her, some forty minutes after the baby had been handed to her. He entered the bedroom, his eyes flickering from her to Edmund. Had he been looking for her? For Edmund? Had he been worried about leaving her alone with the baby? Should he be?

With the softest smile, he placed a tender kiss on her forehead before reaching his hand out to stroke their son’s mane of curly hair.

“Don’t!” She cried in a sharp whisper, her hand closing around his wrist a little desperately. “He’s sleeping.”

Anthony eyed her for a moment before nodding, sitting himself opposite her, the baby between them as they both watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, silence stretching itself into long minutes. Eventually, Edmund began to stir, his little fists opening and closing as his head moved from side to side, making panic swell into her chest, settling there with a vice-like grip, making it difficult to breathe.

“Kate…” Her desperation must have been obvious in her eyes because she could hear the hurt resignation in Anthony’s voice when he called out her name.

“Can you take him back to the nursery?” Her voice was high-pitched, quivering slightly as she pleaded with her eyes for him to understand. “Take him back to the nursery now, please.” The words were harsher than she intended when he didn’t move at first, but Anthony did not look angry, just sad. In a second, he had the wakening baby in his arms, cooing softly as he exited the room with just another worried backward glance at her.

Kate just couldn’t deal with the desperate, sad, despondent looks, with the burning disappointment she just knew he was feeling. She curled up on her side of the bed, her knees pressed tightly to her chest, sobs wracking her body. She heard the door open and close behind her and the shuffling sound of quick footsteps before Anthony’s strong arms pulled her shaking sore body against him, her back to his chest. Her sobs had subsided to a silent stream of tears as his hand caressed her arm soothingly.

“I don’t think I love him.” She confessed miserably, her eyes focused on the curtain closed over the window ahead of her, her voice so low it was barely a whisper, but she knew he had heard her by the way his body stiffened at her words. “I want to but I don’t think I know how.”

Anthony was silent for a very long time as if deciding what to say to her. Would he express her disappointment in her weakness? Would he be angry? Would he tell her she was being ridiculous because every mother should love their child? He didn’t. He didn’t point out her mistakes, or called out her deficiencies or even tried to tell her how she really was feeling.

“I am so sorry you feel this way.” He whispered against her hair. She could hear the way his words seemed pained, his voice catching at the end of the sentence.

“I don’t think he likes me either.” Saying these things out loud, things that previously only belonged to the inside of her head in the dark hours in which her thoughts roamed free, was painful. It felt like admitting to her failures, like accepting they were there, that they were not just some silly ideas in her head. “He cries every time I’m around, and I get angry at his crying, and he cries, even more, the angrier I get. And I feel horrible because I shouldn’t be angry at my own baby, should I?” Kate was thankful for Anthony’s silence as she took a deep breath, willing herself to let the thoughts pour out of her chest. It was easier to do so with her back turned to him but his arms comforting around her, his hands caressing her softly, patiently, the heat of his body enveloping her. “I barely feel like leaving the bed most days. Everything irritates me. No book interests me, I barely wished to touch any food at all the past month and I can’t even sleep. I feel like a horrible mother. Which mother hides from their child all day long? What is wrong with me Anthony?!”

“There is nothing wrong with you. You’re not a horrible mother.” He affirmed into her hair, his tone still gentle but firm now, his heart pounding against her back. “You’re feeling overwhelmed and you need some time to yourself to understand it. My mother…”

“Your mother had just lost your father, the love of her life!” She snapped, her voice harsh, making him flinch. “She was greaving. I have absolutely no reason to be feeling like this.”

“I don’t think you need a reason to feel like this, my love.” He commented quietly, his hand resting on her waist.

“Sometimes, I think…” She forced herself to speak, her eyes closed, the tears leaking from their corners, forming little wet circles where they landed on the sheets. It was her dark, most horrible thought, the one she, herself avoided thinking about at all. In her worst moments, when she was most lonely and desperate it would surface in her mind, leaving her sick and dizzy afterwards. “Wouldn’t it be better if I died when Edmund was little, so he wouldn’t have to remember me at all?”

Anthony swirled her around forcefully, his hands harsher than they’d ever been, until she was face to face with him, chest to chest, his eyes a little wild as he stared down at her.

“There is absolutely no reality in which you leaving us could be better, Kate. You must understand that. Please. I cannot do this without you.”

She could see the pained tears forming in his desperate eyes, his face just a couple of inches from his, his breaths shallow. He gathered her in his arms as she dimly noticed her entire body shaking. Her breaths were raggedy and fast as the tears washed her face harder than before.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed against his shirt. “I don’t know why I am like this. Most of the time I am horrified at the idea, but some moments I just feel so miserable and…” She needed to stop speaking to be able to catch her breath. “It makes me feel sick, thinking about it. It only comes to me when I am too overwhelmed. I don’t understand it. I don’t know why I feel like this. I’m sorry.” The silence took over the room, only her harsh breathing echoing in the walls. He held her close, his face on her hair and his arms wrapped tightly around her as if he was afraid she’d vanish in a moment. His hands were trembling lightly around her back.

“After my father died…” He began, speaking the words in a hushed whisper into her curls. “My mother barely left the bed. My siblings were destroyed. Eloise would scream herself hoarse every night. Francesca simply stopped speaking for four months. Greg was so little, he didn’t understand. He kept asking for Father. And I couldn’t feel anything at all. It was like my entire body was numb. I would go through my day because I had no other choice. My siblings needed me. The estate needed me. It felt like I would never feel anything ever again. I couldn’t even bring myself to cry.” He spoke methodically as if he had been nothing but a spectator on it all like he was recounting someone else’s feelings. “I used to wish it was me instead of Father.”

“And how did you make it stop?” His brow furrowed as if it was the first time he’d ever stopped to think about it before he shrugged.

“I don’t know.” She watched him as he tried to puzzle out what had happened in the months after his father passed when he’d taken over all the responsibilities that should not have been his. It was a topic they had discussed many times before, but every time there was some side of their loss that seemed new. “I remember sitting with Hyacinth one night when she wouldn’t sleep some eight months after he died. I think Eloise was there as well. She was barely sleeping at all at the time, El. I was tired. It was close to the harvest and there was so much work to do. And Hyacinth would wake and only settle with me. So I’d take her to the office. We were sharing a glass of warm milk, I think. You know Hy, she could never stay still for long, not even as a baby. She managed to hit it and drop the entire thing on me. Not a drop on her, even if she was on my lap. She let out these big adorable baby giggles. Then I looked at Eloise, she looked shocked for a moment. I thought she might cry, her face was all red, her eyes huge, and then she surprised me. She started laughing so hard she could barely breathe. I think it was the first time I heard her laugh aloud since father passed.” Kate gently ran her fingers on his cheek, wiping away the lone tear that he had barely seemed to notice that had escaped. “Eloise started laughing and I felt so… relieved. Because Eloise would be okay. And so would Hyacinth and Greg and the others. I ended up laughing with them, completely covered in warm milk, in the middle of the night in the office.” He took a deep breath, his eyes finally drifting down to her face, watching her with so much tenderness it had Kate’s eyes watering all over again. “I think this was the moment I realized that things would be alright. It would never go back to what it was before. Not without my father. But that… hollowness? That would eventually go away.” He cleared his throat, pressing a loving, soothing kiss to her forehead. “It will go away, Kate. It will pass.” He whispered into her skin, his words burning into her, settling deep into her heart. “No matter what, my love, you’ll still have me. You’ll always have me, Kathani Bridgerton.”

“Thank you.” She whispered into his shirt, closing her eyes and allowing the scent of her husband to surround her, his warmth soothing away her tears. She was not exactly well, but pushing her feelings out of her chest, having them out in the open, raw and painful for him to see, seemed to make her entire body lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her.

She was not close to being better. She suspected that it might be a long and hard way before she’d be back to herself, if she ever truly would.

The feeling of guilt and shame still swirled on her chest, but something else was there, blossoming as a flower coming back to life during the spring. Anthony loved her. Anthony understood. He might be frustrated, worried and hurting by seeing her like that. But he would never desert her.

And there, with her husband’s hand on her back, his caring words, his easy reassurances, she felt less alone.

And well, that in itself was a step forward, was it not?

Send me a pairing and a number and I'll write you a drabble.

#i'm loving these prompts!#keep them coming I haven't had this much fun in years #my writing #my fic #writing #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate bridgerton #bridgerton #Kathony #Kanthony #fanfic #Angsty with a happy ending #PPD sucks #Anthony Bridgerton loves his wife very much #Hurt/Comfort

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