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refinedbuffoonery · 2 years

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Looking Through A Window (12)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

For pacing reasons, I decided to break what I had originally planned for Ch 12 into three(!) chapters. Also for pacing reasons, this one is shorter than usual. Oh well. Just know that the “good chapter” I’ve been teasing for a while is now Ch 13.

As always, thank you for being patient with me and my slow updates! I am currently knee deep in original fiction for my capstone project, so my fic writing time is very limited these days. (I don’t remember the last time a story other than LTAW or Flawless occupied so much space in my head! At least this one pays rent since it’s my capstone lol.)

*****

The day before the fundraiser, Riley calls him into the bedroom, asking for a favor. “I need your help,” she says, sitting on the unmade bed wearing shorts and an oversized t-shirt. She’s holding something behind her back. “How thoroughly did you read the binder on my cover’s backstory?”

Unsure of where this is going, Mac replies, “I read most of it. Why?”

“Genevieve Turner has a tattoo.”

“Okay?” he says slowly, still not following. He vaguely remembers reading something about it. But only vaguely.

“A large one. On her back.” Riley reveals the massive and intricate stick-on tattoo on the sheet in her hands, and Mac suddenly understands why she called him in here. The tattoo is stunning, all graceful lines and lifelike details. But Mac doesn’t miss the way Riley ever so slightly recoils from it.

“It’s a—”

“Snake,” she finishes, looking anywhere but at it. “Bozer and Desi thought it was funny. Assholes.”

“They made this?” Mac gently traces the design with his index finger. The snake—a rattler, based on the shape of its head—is wrapped around an ornate dagger, its head hanging below the point and its tail wrapped tight around the grip. A beautiful piece of artwork, if just a tad too lifelike. “This is really impressive.”

Riley nods in agreement, explaining, “They designed it together, and they printed it with the new formula of that long-lasting fake tattoo ink they’ve been working on. It’s supposed to last for a couple weeks before fading.”

The project is news to Mac’s ears. “How did I not know about this? And since when does Desi hang out in the lab?” The safe house apartment is supposed to be a bubble, keeping the outside world out, but right now it feels like it’s doing more to keep Mac in. He needs to call Bozer. Catch up.

“Perks of submitting your reports on time. Extra lab time to work on side projects. You’d know that if you weren’t a chronic procrastinator who needs to be chained to his desk in order to do any paperwork.”

That’s… That’s fair. Uncalled for, but fair.

“Should I be worried about whatever else they’ve got in the works?”

She makes an exaggerated thinking face, then asks, “How do you feel about face tattoos?” Mac chokes, and before he can muster a response, Riley says, “Kidding.” He really hopes she’s kidding.

Still, a pit forms in his stomach. He and Bozer don’t keep secrets from each other. Not anymore, at least. It feels wrong to be the last to learn something about his own best friend.

“Anyway,” she says, now pointedly not looking at the tattoo in her hands or at him, “Can you help me put this on?”

Mac casts all thoughts of Bozer aside. He has a much bigger problem on his hands.

His past self—a version not yet in love with her—wouldn’t have hesitated to offer his assistance. But the more Mac thinks about it, the more he realizes applying the tattoo is going to be torture. The intimacy in touching her like that. Waiting for her breath to catch the way it sometimes does when he touches her back and she’s not expecting it. Having to ignore the fact that her shirt will be off.

“Of course,” he says, hoping Riley can’t hear the panic in his voice. “How does it work?”

She hands him the tattoo and another small plastic package. “Use the primer wipe first. Once you take the backing off the tattoo will stick on it’s own.”

“Sounds simple enough.” Mac rips open the package with the wipe, and Riley turns around, lifting the back of her t-shirt. Is it just him, or is the room really warm? Unable to stop himself, Mac’s eyes roam as her bare skin is exposed, inch by inch, and he imagines tracing the length of her spine, placing kisses across her shoulders. She is… luscious. He hilariously, horribly, hears the word in Bozer’s voice.

Stop it, he chastises himself. Mac closes his eyes, and when he reopens them, he studies Riley with professional precision.

Mostly professional, anyway.

Arms raised to hold up her shirt, her shoulder blades sit at a weird angle. “It’ll be easier if you lie down,” he says, hoping she can’t hear the desperate edge to his tone.

She complies.

Riley’s breath hitches when the cool wipe touches her warm skin, and the brief semblance of professionalism Mac had grasped is blown to pieces. Every nerve in his body is alight just being near her.

Placing the still-wrapped tattoo on her back, Mac measures and adjusts until it’s in just the right spot—the blade aligned with the groove of her spine, the guard at the base of her shoulder blades. Thankfully, Bozer thought to make the plastic backing clear.

“I need you to pull up your shirt more,” he says. Or just take it off, the reckless part of him wants to add.

She does, again without question, and when Riley folds her arms beneath her head, he can just see the curve of her breasts pressed into the mattress. Hoping she can’t see him in her peripheral, Mac lets himself pause and appreciate the view for a few stolen seconds. His cheeks heat.

He peels off the backing.

“Don’t screw up,” Riley warns.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Mac presses the tattoo on her skin, molding the plastic to the shape of her muscles and smoothing the wrinkles. He isn’t quite sure how the ink transfer works, but he has a few theories. He’ll have to call Bozer to be sure.

Perhaps. . .

Wait. Hang on.

He’s alone with a beautiful woman who isn’t wearing a shirt, and he’s thinking about skin chemistry? What the hell is he doing? Talk about needing to get his priorities straight.

His head’s all over the place today. Maybe it’s time for a break.

There’s nothing left to do at this stage of tattoo application; it has to develop for an hour before the plastic can be ripped off. “Timer’s set for an hour,” Mac says, standing up. He wants to keep trailing his fingers down her back, stroking her sides, seeing what sweet sounds might escape her lips.

He settles for only doing it in his imagination. He can’t stop that train of thought anymore, not once it’s left the station.

All the more reason to put a little distance between them. Before he hurts himself more than he already has.

Riley asks, “Can you hand me my book?” Mac does, then heads for the door. He needs to get out of this room for a few minutes, needs to clear his head and raging hormones. “Wait,” she whines. “Where are you going?”

Somewhere where it’s easier to be just your friend.

Later, after the fundraiser—where they have to put on a show of casual touches and unspoken intimacy—he’s going to have to talk to her about some new boundaries. To have half a chance of getting over her with his heart intact, he has no choice.

Before this op, Mac was content to quietly love her forever. He could’ve done it, too. But over the last few days, the realization has started to sink in that if he’s to get through this op in one piece, physically and emotionally, he needs to finally let go of the dream of something more.

Where is he going? To prepare himself for one last night of being this close to her. To prepare to mourn the hope that she feels the same about him, hope he’s been harboring for longer than he’s willing to admit.

In the middle of all that, he somehow manages to say, “To figure out where the hell I put mine.” And when she asks him to come back once he finds it and read with her, he somehow manages to breathe through the ache in his chest and say, “Of course.”

*****

At precisely 5:59 a.m., Harley announces it’s time for breakfast.

“No,” Mac and Riley both groan, turning their backs to the dog barking between them. There is no reason for her to be demanding food this early. Mac’s internal clock doesn’t wake him up until a little after seven, and Riley’s alarm won’t go off until eight. In the three weeks they’ve had her, Harley has never been fed before seven. Ever.

Harley paws the back of Mac’s head, and he pushes her away in a halfhearted attempt to defend himself, but she isn't so easily dissuaded. He swears. “Ask your mom.” The bed dips as Harley jumps on Riley, followed by a pained grunt.

“Get off.”

The bed jostles again, but then Mac hears the telltale thump from Harley jumping onto the floor. She leaves the room, and the blissful quiet returns. Exhaling slowly, Mac feels his body sink into the mattress, limb by limb.

Sleep beckons. One more hour, then he’ll feed Harley.

A loud crash comes from the kitchen, and Mac doesn’t need to get up to know that damn dog is trying to feed herself.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters, rolling over.

“Harley, no!” Riley yells, but her reprimand is conveniently ignored. She tries a different approach. “Harley, come.” Response comes in the form of another loud noise—the dog food bin getting knocked over. Riley growls her name a tad more harshly than Mac expects, but Harley slinks back into the bedroom with her tail between her legs.

Voice softening, Riley pats the bed and says, “Come on. Let’s sleep a little longer, and then we can have breakfast. Okay?”

To Mac’s surprise, Harley gives in, settling into her usual spot at the foot of the bed. Harley lets out a dramatic sigh, and then all is quiet in their apartment again.

It’s the morning of the fundraiser gala, and once that little fact takes root in Mac’s brain, there’s no chance of him falling back asleep. They’ve got to learn more about what the Patriots are planning, and they can’t leave the party tonight until they do. It’s unsettling that three weeks have passed since the start of the op yet he and Riley still know so little about the organization, much less how to take them down. The thought has him clenching his teeth.

The mattress shifts as Riley rolls over, her hand coming to rest on his forearm. His pulse jumps. “It’s too early for overthinking,” she says sleepily.

“Then make me stop,” he snaps, regretting the harsh words the second they’re out of his mouth. Riley retracts her hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that,” Mac apologizes.

Riley doesn’t say anything. Nor does she put her hand back on his arm.

“I hate that we’re still in the dark.” He’s barely admitted that to himself, but voicing it aloud helps alleviate the weight on his chest. “We should know more by now.”

“Not every op is an emergency, Mac,” she says softly. “We knew this would take a while.”

She’s right. After years of urgent distress calls and impossible timelines, Mac’s forgotten what real undercover work feels like. It’s all the waiting around that he hates the most. “You’re better at this than I am. I’m glad Matty assigned you,” he says. Riley shakes her head.

“I’m only here because you and Desi would’ve killed each other by the end of the first week.”

Mac laughs. “No. Well, yes. That’s true. But you’re here because we need you. I’m only here because these cranky old white dudes wouldn’t know what to do with an incredibly intimidating lesbian couple.” The comment earns him a pillow to the face, but Riley’s bright laughter makes it totally worth it.

“I can’t imagine going on an op without you.”

“I can’t either.”

“Sure you can. I run point from the war room all the time.”

“Not anymore. You haven’t stayed back in a long time, Riles. Not since…”

Since.

There are a bunch of ways he could end that sentence, but picking one doesn’t feel right. Leaving him with just since. It fits.

“I guess you’re right,” she says quietly. Their knees brush, and despite yesterday’s promises to himself, Mac takes a gamble by crossing an ankle over hers, his heart squeezing when Riley doesn’t move away.

Neither of them go back to sleep, but they make a good show of pretending until Riley’s alarm goes off, and Harley demands breakfast.

They’ll get answers tonight. They have to.

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#beth writes #looking through a window au #macgyver #macriley #angus macgyver #riley davis #macgyver fanfiction

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Last Night in Soho Ending Explained

https://ift.tt/3GxvO8V

This article contains Last Night in Soho spoilers.

Thomasin McKenzie’s Eloise Turner is a young woman who’s always been haunted by ghosts. That was true at the beginning of Edgar Wright’s Last Night in Soho and it proves just as accurate by the end when she smiles at a blonde haired specter in the mirror. But then learning to live with your spirits, including the horror that comes from their legacies, is all part of growing up. And for Eloise—or Ellie T. as she muses at one point—that takes on quite literal connotations.

Perhaps this is why the climax of Wright’s first psychological horror movie has taken so many audiences by surprise when it cuts straight for the jugular. Up until that point, we’d been led to believe Ellie’s dreams were taking her back to 1965 in order to witness the downward spiral of another young woman who already cast an otherworldly spell before her death: Anya Taylor-Joy’s mysterious Sandie. And yet, by movie’s end, we learn the brusque landlord in her flat, the elderly Ms. Collins (Diana Rigg), has been Sandie this entire time—alive but trapped in a hell of her own making. Well her making, plus the aid of others: namely Jack (Matt Smith) and the johns, who were users and abusers all.

The film then pivots toward the giallo and Grand Guignol as “Sandie” in both past and present takes a knife to the girl who would save her soul. It’s a fairly shocking turn of events, and one which has made and broken the film for a number of my colleagues. But how could Sandie and Ms. Alexandra Collins be the same person? And more importantly, why is it so pivotal for Ellie to still see the girlhood innocence in the woman chasing her up the stairs with a knife?

Why Eloise Saw Sandie as a Ghost

The twist of Sandie being the only technical killer in this story is jarring since for so much of the film, Ellie is able to walk in Sandie’s shoes. From the first moment she goes to sleep in old Ms. Collins’ ancient flat, she is transported to a lovely evening in Soho where Sandie can dominate an entire ballroom just by standing next to the entrance. All ethereal charm and brash confidence in an age where it was considered risqué for a young woman to attend a nightclub alone, Sandie appears as transgressive for her era as many of the other pop culture icons Ellie keeps posters of on her wall: Audrey Hepburn’s fictional Holly Golightly or the real singer Sandie Shaw (who’s stage name Alexandra Collins has clearly borrowed).

It’s an intoxicating experience for Eloise, who is painfully introverted and lost in a sea of her own loneliness in the big city. However, just because she is watching the world through Sandie’s eyes does not necessarily mean Sandie’s the one who invited her. She never sees Sandie’s life outside of the times she meets men who attempt to posses her, including on this first magical night out on the Soho town where Sandie catches the eye of Matt Smith’s Jack, a fella who pretends to be a talent manager but is more of a self-aggrandizing pimp. He tips his hat toward Sandie’s independence like Sean Connery’s James Bond would for a potential conquest—notably Sandie orders a Vesper martini after passing a Thunderball poster in the same sequence—but it’s only so he can make her his… and anyone else who will pay.

Every sequence we see in ’65 is about Sandie’s increasingly terrifying encounters with Jack or the men he forces her to go to bed with in the very flat space Ellie has rented in 2021. These are the ghosts who’ve summoned Eloise’s supernatural sensitivities to the past. Recall that at the beginning of the film, Eloise has become accommodated to an entire childhood where her mother’s phantom watches her from her bedroom mirror—she doesn’t even tell her grandmother (Rita Tushingham) about how frequent Mum’s spectral visits are.

Unfortunately, moving to London has attracted the interest of spirits whom Eloise is not yet equipped to handle the attention of; lecherous men whom Sandie eventually murdered in that same room and hid the bodies of in the walls and floorboards (one presumes the smell must’ve been something awful for the back half of the ‘60s).

This is the reason Ms. Collins never left this building. When we first meet her, she tells Ellie that she lived here most of her life and eventually bought the building: she is chained to this dreary spot because if she ever sold it or let someone renovate, they’d discover the literal bodies she left in her wake. The only person who even remembers she once went by Sandie is Lindsay (Terence Stamp), the old-time copper and ladies man whom Ellie initially mistakes for Old Man Jack. He was the sole man who asked for Sandie’s real name in her youth, seeing Alex’s pain behind Sandie’s facade. This is why he tells Ellie that “Alex killed Sandie.”

But Alex also killed a lot of other blokes too, hence the ghosts taking Eloise back in time. Like the spirits in The Sixth Sense, they’re pleading for Ellie’s help, asking for her to end their earthly torment—which apparently lasts as long as Alexandra breathes. Of course Ellie has good reason to deny their lamentations…

The Spirit of the ‘60s

Beyond the plot mechanics of the twist, the Last Night in Soho ending works in large part because of late Dame Diana Rigg, and both what she represented in this movie and in her own life. As one of the great icons of UK culture in the ‘60s, Rigg was the star of the series The Avengers from ’65 through ’68, and she appeared in movies as synonymous with that era as the 007 flick On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969). Like the character of Sandie, Rigg was at the heart of swinging London’s mod culture as it swept Carnaby Street.

In the context of Last Night in Soho, Rigg’s final film, she thus represents the true living memory of that world—which by the hardness of her stare is not nearly so rosy and beatific as pop culture has reduced it to be after 50 years of nostalgia. Indeed, the romantic nostalgia in Soho extends far beyond Ellie’s starstruck eyes for Sandie. Their relationship is merely a metaphor for, yes, Wright’s own affection for the ‘60s zeitgeist, but also everything from Austin Powers to the last film made by Wright’s buddy Quentin Tarantino, Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood (1969).

Tarantino’s movie, which was nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars, celebrates everything sentimentalized about this decade, albeit in a slightly different context—the California Dreamin’ and Summer of Love at the end of the epoch. But like so many other films about this moment in time, there’s a universal wistfulness about what a paradise future generations missed out on, and it’s usually personified by a free and feminine spirit shaking off the doldrums of the post-war years. In the case of OUATIH, that was summed up by Margot Robbie’s enchanting but largely parabolic version of Sharon Tate, who became the idol of her age. The youthful ‘60s spirit who should’ve lived and danced forever.

Well, Anya Taylor-Joy’s equally effervescent presence initially looks the same in Ellie’s eyes. She’s a free-loving and independent woman who despite all her exuberant movement seems to glide on air. But those romanticized airs are fleeting; affectations as meticulously hand-crafted as the pink frock Ellie attempts to mimic in her design class. Underneath the glamour is a real girl who is as alone in the big city as Ellie, and who lived at a time that celebrated her youth and sexuality, yes, but only inasmuch as it served the rigged game she was set-up to lose.

She plays the free spirit the first night she meets Jack, who will punch the sleaze bucket in a tux when he calls Sandie a slut, but Jack will eventually use that same word after he’s gotten what he personally wants out of her and now looks to control her body for other purposes. The alleged sexual liberation of the ‘60s—which was playfully symbolized in its time by pop culture as chauvinistic as those early Connery and Ian Fleming James Bond stories we see referenced—was more often than not a one-sided affair that still favored the pleasures and assumed dominance of men.

Last Night in Soho takes a lurid and fantastical look at that ugliness behind its romantic phantom’s mask, and behind our own often simplistic and misleading rose-tinted glasses. It forces Eloise and audiences to see the horror of “the decade of youth.” Even Stamp’s old Lindsay, who was the one man in Sandie’s youth to actually see the real suffering Alexandra beneath Sandie’s pretenses, only seemed to want to help her because of her beauty. Her “loveliness.” He said she’s too good for this gutter, but as his older countenance warned Ellie, he liked to think he “protected the girls” as much as kept them in line back in the day—Alex was the exception, not the rule.

Ergo, when old Ms. Collins goes Suspiria on Ellie (Argento, not Guadagnino) and starts chasing Eloise up the stairs with a butcher’s knife, Ellie cannot condemn her. Alex/Sandie played a game she could never win, and even if she did something as awful as murder a dozen men, they murdered her own innocence and dreams for their seedy pleasures. They called her “lovely,” but they built a prison for her that she could never leave, as literalized by her being trapped in that same goddamn room where her life was ruined in her final moments alive. When Alex realizes the game is over, her personal hell never looks more tangible as when she sits on her old bed surrounded by flames.

Ellie won’t kill her; she’ll even forgive her. Still, it’s far too late for Sandie to ever leave that room.

Movies

Edgar Wright on Ghosts, Musicals, and Last Night in Soho

By David Crow

Movies

Last Night in Soho: Quentin Tarantino and Jordan Peele Got the James Bond Poster in the Movie

By David Crow

The Ghost Beside You and the Eerie End Credits

The very end of the film shows that after enough time passes, Ellie has endured and even thrived. She has successfully launched her own fashion show as a student with styles inspired by the ‘60s and Sandie’s unearthly countenance. But Ellie herself is no longer beholden to that spell. She’s dyed her hair brown again and in a style that is neither as girlish as how she was introduced or a throwback to a bygone era.

She’s learned from the past and carries those lessons with her—like her ghosts. We see those too, in the shapes of her mother and now also Sandie, youthful and free again. Both watch Eloise every time she looks in the glass. That’s because to paraphrase Faulkner, the past is never dead; it’s not even past. Eloise will always love her mother, just as she’ll always love the ‘60s culture which inspires her and is embodied by Sandie’s shade. But seeing them clearly, and learning to accept their legacies, warts and all, allows her to move through the world as an adult.

As Rigg’s old Alexandra said, this is London. Someone’s died in every room and in every building, and on every street corner. You accept their world as your own simply by breathing in the same space.

It’s a line of dialogue that Wright told me he wrote because he believes it. Which also explains the eerie final images of the film. During the end credits, Wright evades doing anything as tacky as a post-credits scene or final jump scare. Nonetheless, the last images roll by during the end credits as we see the streets of Soho abandoned and vacant. Occupied only by their own ghosts and the half-forgotten memories of worlds long lost and far older than swinging London.

Wright revealed to us that those quiet, moving images were a spur of the moment choice which he filmed during London’s lockdown last year.

“It took me a few months to summon up the courage to walk through [Soho] in lockdown,” Wright said, “but it was completely and utterly deserted, which added an extra level of poignancy to it. There’s a lot of added poignancy too since we shot the movie, not least because two actresses in the movie are no longer with us. And then there’s another part of it that’s bittersweet or elegiac in a way. Soho is rapidly changing. Some of those buildings with ghosts in them, they’re just going forever, which is very sad.”

He continued, “So I walked around and saw how deserted it was, and I called my production designer and my line producer and said, ‘Hey, you’ve got to meet me in Soho at night, take a look at this.’ So then we took photos, and then we actually went out with a crew and shot it… That was something I felt was, in a way, like a little epilogue to the movie by showing what Soho was like right now.”

A memory of a time that’s already gone—but which will always stay with us.

Last Night in Soho is in theaters now.

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Riding High

Ch16: Roast Beef, Cake and Ponies

Chapter Summary: It’s Mary’s birthday…and Evelyn is back in town.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, 18+).

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: A nice, fluffy chapter for Friss after the heartache of the last one!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 15

"How does the Waldorf Astoria grab you?" Frank asked, looking up from the screen he had open on his phone.

Fliss, who was busy at the dining table with her nose buried in diagrams and goodness knows what else she had spread over the surface for lesson planning, glanced over to where he was sat on the new sofa, watching her over the back of it.

"What?"

"For New York"

"Frank, I'm not following you, babe…"

"I said we were gonna go this December. Take Mary for the snow." He looked at her, "did you forget?"

"Actually I did..." she said with a chuckle as she dropped the pen she was holding "but that aside, it's only just gone May!"

"Yeah but I was talking to Simon and he says it gets booked up pretty quickly so thought I'd start looking.” He shrugged "There’s a pretty good offer on at the Waldorf. Start of December, Thursday to a Sunday…taking her outta school shouldn’t be a problem…”

He stood up and made his way over and handed her the phone, leaning over her from behind with his palms flat on the table as she scanned the info. He glanced down and saw her face split into a smile.

"It’s a dream isn’t it?" She turned her head to look at him. "To go to New York and stay in the Plaza or here..."

"Shall I book it? He asked and she bit her lip and gave a little nod. With a smile he took the phone from her and dropped a kiss to her lips.

"How much is it?" she asked

"Doesn’t matter..."

"Frank..."

"Fliss..." he mimicked her and she rolled her eyes and Frank met her look with one of his own, raising an eyebrow watching her carefully. Since their bare all conversation a few weeks ago, things had been a little different between the pair of them. Not bad different, quite the opposite. Fliss seemed less tentative towards certain things now, she didn’t try to hide the way she was feeling when certain things made her uncomfortable and Frank didn’t get or feel as frustrated when she thanked him or praised him for doing things that to him didn’t warrant it.

Greg had been amazing, not that Frank had expected anything else, and been nothing but patient and sympathetic with Fliss. He’d written the Victim Impact statement for her, taken her through it, listened and made the amendments she wanted before he’d filed it on her behalf, assuring her that her part in the process was now over and there was nothing more she could do. That in itself had been a huge weight off Fliss’ shoulders, and she admitted to Frank that the thought of John getting out made her more angry than scared, which Frank was secretly pleased about. He didn’t want her to be scared, at all.

It had been the first big hurdle their relationship had reached, and Frank was both relieved and pleased to see they’d made it through, and although he didn’t think it had been possible, he felt even closer to her now. And he wanted to spoil her. Just because he could. And because she fucking deserve it.

“Come on, let me treat you…" he coaxed, and when she gave him a small smile he mimicked her, knowing he’d won her round.

"Ok." She said smiling "but I'm paying for our take out tonight."

"Deal."

Frank straightened up, phone clutched in his hand as he headed over the drawer in the kitchen that held his wallet. Grabbing his card he leaned on the unit, keying in the information the website booking form required and a few minutes later it was done.

"All booked" he smiled and she looked at him. "We fly out at 10:25 the Thursday morning, home at 15:45 on the Sunday..."

"Why do they always have stupid times like that?" Fliss asked "like 10:25...why not 10:30?"

Frank shrugged "No idea."

Fliss paused and then gave a little squeak and pushed her chair back before she skipped over to him and threw herself into his arms. With a chuckle he caught her, hands wrapping around her back.

"New York, in the run up to Christmas!" She beamed as he kissed her softly. "I can’t believe it"

"Well you better as I'm gonna need to get some warm clothes...for the first time in years." He mused and Fliss laughed as her feet hit the floor again.

“We can get matching shit Christmas sweaters with huge reindeers or something else equally as gaudy on the front.” she grinned.

“No.” Frank shook his head

“Oh come on…” Fliss teased. “You wear hideous shirts all the time, what’s the difference? Or would you prefer a jumper with a giant palm tree or a yacht on it instead?” “Fuck you.” He shot back and she gave a loud laugh, her head falling back slightly before she recovered and grinned at him.

"Gonna tell Mary?" She asked and he nodded.

"On her birthday. Can be part of her present."

"What can?" The girl asked.

"Well if I told you that it wouldn't be a surprise would it?" Frank looked at her.

"Guess not." Mary shrugged. "What time are we seeing Evelyn tomorrow?"

"Lunch time" Frank said.

“And then after you gonna come help me with Monty?” Fliss looked at Mary.

Mary nodded “Is his leg better?” “Almost.” Fliss assured her. “He needs another week or so rest I think. But I think his days as a riding school pony are over.” “Are you still going to have to rehome him?” Mary’s voice dropped at little and Fliss took a deep breath.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to, but he can’t cope with doing lessons every day. It would be nice for him to get a home with a family who can love him has a pet and just ride him a few times a week…but I’ll see.” “You ready to go to Roberta’s?” Frank looked at Mary and she perked up a little and nodded. “Ok, I’ll walk you down.”

“Night Lissy!” Mary grinned, heading over to give her a hug before they both headed out of the door.

Fliss looked down at her plans and then deciding she was done, gathered them all up and stuck them back in her folder, clearing the table. She really did need to give some more thought to what she was going to do with Monty. She had a soft spot for the animal but knew that he wasn’t going to be able to cope with the pressures of being a riding school pony anymore. The thing was, at almost nineteen he was still sprightly and far too active to be put out to pasture. The kindest thing to do would be to find a home for him, a little boy or a little girl to love him as a pet…and then it came to her. A simple solution, that was a win-win for everyone involved.

Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

“Hell no!” was Frank’s response when she ambushed him with her idea the minute he walked in the door, flopping onto the sofa next to him. “Absolutely fucking not!”

“Oh come on!” Fliss looked at him. “It won’t cost anything.” “You said yourself you can’t afford stables to be clogged up.” “We can build him a smaller one, round the back on the end of my private block.” Fliss shrugged

“By we, you mean me…” “And Dad.”

Frank sighed “You’d still be out of pocket…you already refuse to take money for her lessons as it is.” “Yeah, because your my boyfriend and I’m not taking money off you for Mary’s lessons.” “Exactly, so how much would you be missing out on if you were renting the stable to someone else? And don’t lie as I’ll look it up on your website.” Frank shot her a look.

“For a pony his size, about Forty-bucks a week, but it doesn’t cost me that. Anyway, it doesn’t matter as I’m not I’m not gonna be taking money off you for her pony!” “It’s not her pony.” Frank rolled his eyes.

“No, but he could be…” Fliss grinned.

“Fucks sake…” Frank groaned.

“That a yes?”

“No, it’s a for fucks sake. You’re exasperating at times.”

She paused for a moment before she bit her lip and crawled across him, straddling his lap, grinning as he looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

“Is it a yes yet?” she asked, rolling her pelvis down, making his breath hitch as he felt the familiar arousal blooming in his crotch.

“Are you seriously trying to seduce me into letting you give Mary a pony?” he snorted.

“Is it working?”

“No…”

“Really?” she asked. “Because the bulge in your pants is telling me otherwise.” “Stop it.” he warned her.

“Stop what?” She asked, rolling her hips again.

“I mean it Lissy…” his voice was low.

She did it again, and he took a deep breath before he quickly pivoted them so she was led underneath him, causing her to shriek in surprise. She grinned up at him before his lips crashed onto hers. Fliss wrapped her arms round his neck as his hands crept to her hips, settling just under the hem of her top as she placed both hands on his face, the pads of her finger tips cupping his jaw through his short beard. She broke away this time to breathe, head resting on the arm of the couch and he dropped his head, pausing his lips inches from her neck.

“You gonna shut up about the damned pony?” he asked.

“No.” she said stubbornly.

“Alright…” Frank sighed, and she gave a little giggle as he pressed his mouth to her neck. He gripped her hips again and they gave a little jerk of their own accord, pushing up against him and they both groaned slightly at the contact. At the noise Frank pulled back to stare at her again.

“Gonna shut up yet?” “Make me.” she teased, pushing her head upwards, lips crashing onto his and her hands slid under his t- shirt. His muscles twitched under her touch as the sensation of her gently dragging her nails caused him to groan as desire lanced through his entire body like red hot pokers.

“Oh, sweetheart…challenge accepted…” he muttered he grasped the bottom of her top. She moved her arms and sat up slightly as he pulled it up over her head, her hair falling around her shoulders, his lips catching hers as he gently slipped one strap of her bra down at a time placing a soft kiss on each of her shoulders. Her breasts spilled over the tops of the cups and his groin twitched, the crotch of his jeans now painfully tight. Her hands moved to the hem of his T-shirt and he held his arms for her to yank it off. Once he was free he kissed her again his rough hands gently sliding up her rib cage to her chest, delicately squeezing and kneading the soft flesh and white lace, before his hand slid into the cups, teasing her taught nipples with his thumbs. She groaned gently, arching her back as his groin bumped against hers. He was gently at first, before his rocking became harder, and Fliss buried her fingers in his hair, pulling, hard, forcing his head back sharply. As she tugged he let out a low growl and when she let go he stared down at her to see her smirking as she watched him, his pupils blown so wide there was hardly any blue left.

The rhythm of his hips was growing more frantic and their kisses were growing more desperate. "More," she moaned into his mouth, and he obliged in the best of way moving his hips even faster, rubbing against her through the barrier of their clothes in ways that had her clutching at his back like her life depended on it. As he continued to rub against her, pushing her into the soft cushions of the sofa, it wasn’t long before the tell-tale tightening across his lower stomach warned him he was fast approaching his release

"Lissy, tell me your close baby, please?" Frank begged because of course he wanted to get her there first. He had to smirk at the fact he’d finally shut her up, as it was all she could do to moan brokenly, her words no longer forming coherently, and she gave a nod as his mouth fell to that spot on her neck which drove her wild. She tipped her head back as he gently nipped beneath her ear with his teeth and a few more thrusts of his hips against hers and she was done, fingers wrapped around his hair as the lights exploded in front her eyes and she felt the coil in her stomach unravelling as she came hard underneath him, hips bucking upwards, almost violently. Her voice was broken as she gasped out “Frankie…”

He loved it when she called him that, her name for him, the name that no-one called him other than her. It tumbled from her lips so easily, and seeing and feeling her fall apart in his arms sent him over the edge right behind her in a pure surge of ecstasy. His head dropped to the crook of her shoulder and she gently ran her fingers through his hair as they both breathed deeply as they waited to regain control of their bodies. Eventually both of them evened out and he raised his head to look at her, to find her smirking a little, her eyes twinkling with what looked like humour.

“What?” he managed to ask, his nose sliding against hers.

“So, about Monty…”

“For fucks…fine, she can have the damned pony.” he groaned, dropping his head to her chest and she grinned, as one of her hands ran up and down his spine causing the muscles in his back and shoulders to gently twitch at her touch.

“I’m starving.” she said, as he raised his head to look at her.

“I’ll order food.” he said, “Then I think I should probably shower before it arrives…seeing as I just shot my load in my pants like a fourteen year old kid.”

“I’ll go start it running.” she bit her lip and he grinned at her as he pushed himself up off the couch before offering her his hand. She took it and he pulled her up, dropping a kiss to her forehead as his gaze once more dropped to her chest. With a certain glint in her eye she turned around and sauntered to the doorway before she stopped, and turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Best hurry before I use all the hot water.”

As she walked off down the hall, her hips swaying slightly, Frank was hard again like it had never left. Grabbing his phone he ordered the food before he shot off to join her.

***** “Evelyn.” he greeted his mother as she stood up from the table she was sat at which was outside the back of the small café bar, overlooking the beach.

“Hello Frank, hello Mary.” she greeted them both.

“Hi.” Mary smiled, settling into a seat and Frank took the one next to her. After an awkward moment of small talk, the waitress arrived and Frank ordered himself a beer and a soda for Mary, Evelyn taking an ice tea.

“So, how have you been?” Evelyn asked, her question directed to Mary, which was fine by Frank.

“Good.” Mary said and she launched into an explanation of everything that had happened in her life since she had last seen Evelyn as Frank had taken her home from Tampa. Frank was listening, vaguely, simply observing how easy Mary found it to simply forgive and forget everything that had happened. But then again, she was merely eight years old (well, as of tomorrow anyway) and that was the beauty and innocence that came with childhood he supposed.

“And then we moved into the new house.” Mary said as their drinks arrived. ”Fliss stays with us a lot, she practically lives with us now…Frank says she will do properly at some point but not yet.”

“You moved?” Evelyn looked at Frank who nodded.

“Part of the conditions of me getting Guardianship.” he said simply.

“Have you moved far or…” “It’s on the same park as our old one but it’s bigger” Mary answered for him. “My room is awesome, it’s blue and I have a cabin bed with a desk underneath it and a big TV.” “Still fixing boats?” Evelyn asked and Frank rolled his eyes.

“Mother.” “I’m just asking.” she held her hands up.

“Yes, I am. But I’m working for someone now. A friend of Fliss’ dad, he has a repair-shop attached to a sales place. Good wage, health insurance.” he added, unable to stop himself and he saw his mother’s mouth twitch.

“I’m impressed. I never thought I’d see the day”

At that point, Mary announced she was hungry and the three of them studied the menus, before Mary decided on a cheeseburger and fries. Frank opted for a steak hoagie whilst Evelyn went for a salad

“How long are you in town for?” Frank asked her as soon as their order was taken

“Until Monday…” Evelyn said “I thought, if it’s ok that is, that maybe I could take you all to dinner tomorrow for Mary’s birthday”

Ok, so that was unexpected.

“We can’t.” Mary said “We’re going to Verity’s like we do every Sunday. That’s Fliss’ mom.” she explained “We play in the pool and then she does a big Sunday dinner and makes ice cream sundaes or pies…but tomorrow she’s doing me a special birthday cake.”

“That sounds very nice.” Evelyn replied

“You should come. Roberta is….” Mary added.

Oh, for fucks sake…

“Mary…” Frank began but she turned and shrugged at him, recognising his warning tone.

“What? Verity says it’s my special birthday dinner so I could pick what I wanted to eat and I could bring someone…”

“Yeah and you chose to take Roberta…” Frank looked at her “Verity already does enough for you…”

“It’s okay.” Evelyn said, hastily cutting him off. “Thank you for the invite Mary but, well let’s see shall we?”

The rest of the afternoon was reasonably pleasant, well as pleasant as it could be. Mary told Evelyn all about what she was doing at School and then Evelyn filled Frank in a little bit on what she’d been doing with Diane’s work. Frank could tell she was surprised when he told her he’d been following the process on the internet, and when the time came to say goodbye, he promised he’d call her and arrange for her to be able to see Mary at least for some time tomorrow so she could give her the gifts she had bought.

Frank drove them to the yard and Mary shot out as soon as the truck had stopped, barrelling round the corner to go and see Monty. Fliss was busy teaching in the paddock and Frank spotted that Bill was in the Office, already screwing up one of the shelves that Frank had made ready to put up.

“Hey Bill.” he said, “You know I was gonna do that…” “Oh it’s no bother.” Bill smiled, “I’ve been fixing the door on the back barn anyway so…” “I was gonna do that too.” Frank chuckled.

“Yeah, well I told Fliss to stop asking you.” Bill shrugged, marking a spot on the wall to fix the bracket to “You work enough, weekends should be free.” Frank smiled, and then stepped forward to help Bill hold up the wooden plank whilst he made sure it was straight.

“How did it go with your mother?” Bill asked.

“Surprisingly okay.” Frank said “She was reasonable and seemed genuinely interested in how Mary was doing.” “She in town long?” “Until Monday. “Frank said.

“She coming to dinner tomorrow?” Bill asked, and Frank frowned, his head cocking to one side.

“You been talking to Mary by any chance?” “No, how can I?” Bill asked, looking at him “You just got here.” “Fair point.” Frank conceded.

“Why do you ask?” “Because that’s exactly what Mary did. Invited her. Thankfully Evelyn was tactful enough to put her off but…” “You should let her come.” Bill said.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” Frank shook his head.

“Why?” Bill pressed.

“I just…” Frank took a deep breath “Her seeing Mary is one thing, integrating herself in to our lives is another.”

“Can I give you a bit of advice son?” Bill looked at him, and when Frank didn’t protest he continued “Don’t cut your nose off to spite your face. I know you owe her nothing, but if she’s reaching out here. Maybe think about giving it a whirl, test how serious she actually is and take the olive branch. That or look at it as giving her enough rope to hang herself. Either way, you win.” Frank didn’t really have an answer. And he didn’t until much later that evening when they were all sat outside the back of Bill and Verity’s with a few drinks.

And, of course, when he asked Verity if she minded accommodating one more person, she assured him she didn’t.

**** Naturally Mary was up at the crack of dawn the following morning, unwrapping a pile of gifts that Frank and Fliss had bought her. Some books, DVDs, new clothes, a pair of new sneakers and then after breakfast Frank took her out into the yard where she squealed when she spotted the new blue and pink BMX she’d asked him for. After she donned her helmet and did a few rides up and down the drive, demanding to know how long she’d need stabilisers for, Fliss emerged from the annex, Thor at her feet and gave Frank a wink.

“Mary, Joanna just called…” she said “I need to pop up to the stables for an hour. Wanna come?” “Yeah!” She grinned, and immediately set off biking back towards the house.

Frank announced that he’d come too and Mary didn’t’ give it a second thought. They drove to the yard and climbed out, Mary shooting off straight to see Monty.

Frank took Fliss’ hand in his as they followed, and finally caught up with her as she was stood, her mouth hanging open at the fact that Monty’s door had a huge Happy Birthday banner on it, and the white pony wore a bow around his neck. He turned his head to face them, completely nonplussed by all the fuss.

“I don’t…why is he…” Mary turned to Fliss then looked at Frank and then back to the pony “Is he wishing me happy birthday?” “Kind of.” Fliss said, smiling. “Open the card.” She grabbed the card that was tacked to the door and her eyes roved the writing inside. Immediately they widened and filled with tears as she looked up at the two adults in front of her.

“He’s mine?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded, a lump forming in his own throat at the sight of how happy she was.

“For real?”

“For real.” he assured her.

“Like, really? Mine? No one else is sharing him anymore?” “No one else.” Frank shook his head.

She gave a loud squeal and threw herself at Frank, wrapping her arms around his legs. “Thank you!” “Happy birthday Stack.” he smiled, bending down to hug her back.

“You’re the best uncle ever…” “Makes a change.” he muttered, “And this was Fliss’ idea…you have her to thank.”

“Took me ages to persuade him…” Fliss grinned and Frank snorted, as Mary moved over and gave Fliss a huge hug

“You’re the best too.” she smiled, before the attention turned back to her new pet.

They spent an hour or so at the yard, Mary doing her first jobs as Monty’s owner, mucking his stable out, grooming him, filling his hay net up. Eventually they dragged her away after Fliss and Frank both assured her now that she had her pony she could come after school three nights a week and then both days at weekends to take care of him and ride when she wanted to. They picked Roberta up on the way home, and then once Mary had unwrapped her gift from Roberta which was another large lego set much to her delight, the three adults sat outside with a beer, Mary scribbling away in the new journal they’d bought her, no doubt writing about Monty, and then Frank received a call from his mother to tell him she was at the gate.

Fliss, Roberta and Mary headed over to the main house whilst Frank walked down to collect Evelyn. He didn’t miss the appraising look she was taking at the property as they walked back down the drive, Frank taking the bag of gifts off Evelyn politely. He introduced her to Bill, who was stood outside with Mary admiring her bike, and then Frank led her into the large entrance area of the old farmhouse.

Once the ‘pleasantries’, if you could call them that were over and Evelyn had met Verity and been handed a glass of wine, they all headed out onto the raised decking that overlooked the pool.

“This is…nice.” Evelyn said, as she took in the surroundings “I expected something different.” “In what way?” Verity asked, and Frank didn’t miss the way the woman bristled as his mother’s tone.

“Oh, just, well, seeing where Frank lives…”

“Excuse me?” Verity looked at the woman, frowning.

“What my mother means…” Frank butt in, glaring at Evelyn “is thank you for inviting her over.”

“Yes, I didn’t mean anything by it, I haven’t actually seen Frank’s new place yet.” Evelyn smiled, the expression not meeting her eyes “And, thank you of course.” “I didn’t invite you.” Verity shrugged “Mary did. And as it’s my little pud’s birthday who am I to argue…speaking of which, where is she?”

“Here!” Mary said, running out of the house, Bill following “I was just showing Bill my new bike!” she ran to Verity and gave her a hug and Verity smiled, wrapping her arms around her.

It didn’t escape Frank’s notice the way his mother was watching the pair of them, as Mary pulled back and asked if she could go in the pool.

“Dinner’s almost ready.” Bill cut in. “Well, that’s what my nose is telling me anyway. Maybe later.”

“On a full stomach?” Evelyn looked at Frank “is that really a good idea?”

“Hasn’t killed her yet.” Verity shot back. And Evelyn turned her eyes to the woman again.

There was a moment’s frosty silence, and Fliss turned her eyes to her dad, begging him to help. And he did. “Shall we go in?” Bill asked, “Someone has presents to open!” “Oh, yes!” Verity smiled, frostiness completely gone “Come on!”

Mary gave a squeal and Bill laughed, swinging her up easily onto his shoulders as the 3 of them headed up the steps. Frank followed behind, falling into step with his mother as Fliss hung back slightly, turning to Roberta when the woman spoke to her.

“Remind me who thought this was gonna be a good idea?”

Five minutes or so later, the Gallagher living room was on its way to being a mass of shredded wrapping paper, Mary sat in the middle of another pile of gifts which were from Bill and Verity, and also Evelyn. Evelyn had brought Mary some new Maths books, which Frank refrained from rolling his eyes at, and then Mary opened her mouth.

“I don’t read a lot of maths books now in my spare time, we’re reading Harry Potter.” she mused. “We’re on the fourth one now.”

“But they’ll be good for school.” Frank looked at her sternly.

“Yes, thank you Evelyn.” Mary corrected herself. Evelyn smiled and told her she was welcome, as Mary moved on to the next set, which Frank was surprised to see was a pile of seven Leather bound Children’s classics.

“I bought your mother something similar when she was your age.” Evelyn explained “I thought you might like them.” Mary’s eyes widened as she ran her hands over the cover of “Black Beauty” and looked up at Evelyn. “I do, thank you.” Evelyn had also placed a few hundred dollars in her card for her to spend on whatever she wanted, which she grinned at and informed everyone she was going to be spending it on new things for Monty.

“Who’s Monty?” Evelyn asked.

“My pony!” Mary grinned “Fliss and Frank gave him to me this morning.”

Evelyn’s eyebrows raised slightly and she smiled “How nice…”

“Did you ever have a pony?” Mary asked.

“No.” Evelyn said, “But Frank and your mother’s Step-Father now has several.” Frank smiled, shaking his head slightly, the thought of that still amused him.

“Does he show jump?” Mary pressed.

“I believe he does western riding.” Evelyn shrugged “Although I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Mary nodded, taking the information in before she looked at Fliss “We should do Western Riding.”

“One day, maybe.” Fliss mused “I mean I do have the boots and the hat…”

Mary nodded “Yup, you do…” before she reached over to Bill and Verity’s pile, picking out the longest one. Her eyes widened as she unwrapped the box, and glanced up at Fliss before she pulled the lid off and removed one of the long De-Niro riding boots. They were patent snake-skin effect leather, with a band of pink glitter around the tops.

“They’re…” Mary’s mouth flopped open “They’re like yours but pink!” she looked at Fliss, then turned to Bill and Verity.

“Fliss told us you liked hers.” Verity beamed at her. “So now you have your own pair.” After a scramble, during which Frank told her to calm down about fifty times, she soon had them on and Frank helped her with the zips as they were still a little stiff.

“You’ll need to wear them in like you did with your short ones.” Fliss said, “But these are ONLY for riding in. Use your other ones for yard work and stuff.”

“Damned girl!” Robert grinned as Mary did a cat walk of sorts, strutting down the centre of the room “Think I should get myself a pair…” “You don’t’ ride!” Mary gave Roberta a withering look.

“No but they’d look good with some jeans.”

As Mary began to point out to Roberta that she was being ridiculous, Frank looked at Bill raising an eyebrow. He knew exactly how much those boots had cost, as he had been looking into getting her a pair himself but then she’d told him she wanted a bike.

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in telling you off for how much you’ve spent on those is there?” he asked.

“Nope.” Bill smirked “Don’t suppose there is.”

“She’s worth it.” Verity smiled.

Mary flopped down and opened the rest of her gifts which consisted of her own copies of the Harry Potter films on DVD and some vouchers for the Tack Shop and a book about horse breeds.

“Thank you!” she said, smiling as she stood up and launched at Bill who gave her a hug before she moved to Verity.

“You’re very welcome Pudding!” Verity smiled, brushing her hair back. “Now, someone said something about wanting a roast beef dinner!”

“Can I help?” Mary asked.

“Of course you can.” Verity said, and she stood up.

“Boots.” Frank said, and Mary stopped

“But I need to wear them in.” “Not in here…” “Frank, she’s fine.” Verity soothed him “They’re clean…not that I care, it all vacuums up.” Frank shook his head “You let her get away with murder.” Verity grinned “My prerogative as her Pseudo Nana.”

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Evelyn suddenly spoke up. Frank glanced at her, noticing that her face was overly passive, a look she had often worn with him when he’d done something she disapproved of but was refraining from passing comment. Seems like Verity’s comment had had an effect on her, not that she had any right to be upset, mind.

“Course, out in the hall, second on the left.” Bill nodded and she made her way out of the room.

“She ok?” Fliss asked, looking at Frank.

“Who knows, she’s Evelyn.” he shrugged by means of an answer.

Half an hour later they were all seated round the large table, tucking into their roast Dinner. Mary’s plate was piled with her favourite things, beef, mash, 3 Yorkshire puddings, and broccoli all accompanied by what looked like enough gravy to fill a bath tub with. For once Verity had foregone insisting Mary eat more veg, because who wants veg on their birthday anyway?

The conversation was polite, Evelyn thanking Verity for her food and complementing her cooking. Fliss was pleased to see her mother softening slightly. Evelyn was a very sore subject to the woman, given what she’d put Frank through, but both Bill and Fliss had warned her previously that if Frank’s mother was going to be a fixture in Mary’s life going forward, then Verity needed to accept that.

“Did you manage to get that wardrobe up, son?” Bill asked looking at Frank who gave a chuckle as Fliss hit his arm.

“Eventually…once we realised someone was reading the instructions out wrong.” “I warned you.” Fliss shrugged. “You should have paid someone to come fit it.” “I managed fine once my narrator had sorted herself out.” he rolled his eyes.

“What is it about men and their insistence on being able to do everything themselves?” Roberta asked.

“I’ll remember that next time you ask me to come fix something in your apartment.” Frank pointed his fork at her.

“So, you said you haven’t seen Frank’s new place yet?” Verity asked Evelyn who shook her head in response. “Any particular reason or…”

“I’m actually allergic to cats so…” Verity made to say something else but one look from Bill stopped her dead and she nodded. “Well, if you can you should pop a Benadryl and go over. Bill and Frank did the work themselves, and they did a very good job.” “Yeah and now Frank says Fliss is filling it full of crap.” Mary supplied and Fliss turned to Frank, who groaned.

“Oh did he?” “No, that’s…all I said was that you were buying too many throw cushions and stuff…”

“It looked boring.” Fliss shrugged “Needed colour.”

“I agree.” Mary nodded

“Course you do.” Frank rolled his eyes.

“It was too grey, Frank.” Mary said, mimicking exactly what Fliss had said “The cushions and the rug look good.”

“Well when you move out and get your own apartment you can fill it with all the cushions you want.” Frank looked at her.

“I’m never moving out.” Mary shrugged.

“Oh, trust me. You are.” Frank teased “Soon as you’re 16 I’m packing your bags and you’re gone.” “Whatever.” Mary rolled her eyes at his empty threat “We all know that’s rubbish. You told me I’d have a home with you for life.” “Yeah well I changed my mind.” “You can move in with me baby!” Roberta looked at Mary who grinned.

“You want her you can have her.” Frank said “Be my guest.”

“Oh behave Frank.” Verity scoffed “We all know you’d fight tooth and nail to keep her with you…”

Fliss let out an inward groan and glared at her mother who scrunched her eyes closed in an ‘oh shit’ expression.

“I didn’t…” Verity began, before she shook her head “That’s not what I meant.” “It’s ok.” Evelyn looked at her. “You clearly have very strong opinions on the matter.” “Which she will be keeping to herself as it’s not the time or the place.” Fliss said, effectively ending the conversation “What’s done is done.” She felt Frank’s hand squeeze her knee under the table before he reached over for his glass of water.

“Did Mary tell you she’s going to Camp this summer?” Bill said, swiftly changing the subject.

“Camp?” Evelyn tuned to Mary who nodded “How…nice.”

Frank fought his desire to snort at his Mother’s expression, because he knew camping was her idea of hell.

“Yeah I’m going with scouts.” she said “We’re going to…err…what’s it called again?” “Sandkey Park.” Frank said “In Clearwater.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Mary said, swallowing another huge bite of food “We’re doing outdoor activities and water sports and stuff.” “How long for?” Evelyn asked.

“Five days.” Mary said “And then I’m staying with Verity and Bill for a weekend so Frank can take Fliss away on holiday whilst I’m gone.” “Anywhere nice?” Evelyn looked at Frank.

“Not decided yet have we?” Frank looked at Fliss who shook her head.

“And then we’re all going to New York in December.” Mary said, “ I can’t wait to see the Christmas Trees and lights and snow…” “You’ll love it.” Evelyn smiled “New York at Christmas is magical.” Ok, now that surprised Frank. “You’ve been?” he asked, frowning.

“Your father took me the first Christmas we moved to Boston.” she said, looking at Frank “Did I never tell you?” “No, you didn’t” Frank said “I always thought you hated Christmas.” “I hated it without your Father.” Evelyn corrected him, causing him to frown even more, before she hastily recovered herself. “Where are you staying?”

“The Waldorf.” Fliss said, and Evelyn nodded her head, clearly impressed.

“Your new job must be paying well.” “It keeps me afloat.” Frank said simply.

The rest of the meal passed in comfortable conversation, and once everyone was finished Verity stood up, announcing that it was time for some coffee and cake. “How do you take yours Evelyn?” Verity asked. “Black, no sugar thank you.” Evelyn replied. “I don’t know how people can drink it like that, I find it too bitter.” Roberta pulled a face.

“Me too.” Bill mused “Milk and two sugar kind of man.” “Well I find that taking it bitter helps me keep the mosquitos away.” Evelyn said, with a glance at Fliss, directly referencing their first ever conversation. Fliss choked slightly on her water and side-eyed Frank who was smirking into his glass. When Fliss looked back at Evelyn, she was surprised to see the woman was wearing an amused smile.

“Bit like Garlic keeps the Vampires away huh?” Roberta quipped.

“So that’s how to get rid of you!” Bill smirked, looking up at Verity who shot him a glare as she headed into the kitchen. Fliss got to her feet to help clear down the table along waving both Roberta and Evelyn back into their seats when they too rose to help and insisted that as guests they remained put.

An hour or so later after the candles had been blown out and the cake had been eaten, they all retired outside onto the decking, Mary finally getting her way and after a quick change taking a running jump into the pool. After a round of drinks, Evelyn announced that her car was here and that she should be leaving. After politely thanking them for their hospitality, she smiled and then Frank stood to walk her to the gate one Mary had bid her goodbye.

“They seem a nice family.” Evelyn smiled at him as they walked down the gravel Frank nodded “Yeah, they’re great. Brilliant with Mary too so…” “You seem happy Frank.”

“I am.” He nodded as he pressed the button on the gate to open it, revealing the silver Mercedes that was waiting.

“I’m glad.” she said, gently touching his arm. Frank glanced down at her hand before he looked at her, his eyebrow raised.

“You’re not going to try and hug me now are you?” he asked, a little playfully, but it was enough to make his point. That was the first motherly touch he’d felt from Evelyn in about 20 years.

“I don’t think we’re quite at that point, do you?” “Were we ever?”

“You’d be surprised.” she smiled at him “You were quite an affectionate little boy. Very like your father that way.”

Frank raised his eyebrows a little, as she stepped towards the car and he opened the door for her.

“You remind me a lot of him now.” she looked at Frank “Both in looks, personality, your mannerisms.”

“That why we don’t get along?” Frank asked as she climbed into the car.

“Who knows?” Evelyn said, with a slight smile “Thank you for this weekend. I’ll contact you about seeing her again soon if that’s ok.” Frank nodded “Like I said, as long as Mary’s happy then…”

With that he stepped back, closing the car door. He watched it drive off up the road before he turned and made his way back into the house, deciding that overall it hadn’t been that bad an afternoon.

**** “Stop bouncing on the bed.” Frank said sternly “It’s not a trampoline”

“It’s like one.” Mary replied.

“Yeah well a mine field is technically a field but I wouldn’t let you walk through one…”

Mary flopped down onto the bed “Sorry, I’m just so excited.” “I can tell, but it’s bed time. It’s already late…come on.”

She scrambled under the covers and Frank perched on the edge of the bed as Fliss popped her head in the door.

“Just going for a shower.” she smiled, walking into the room to pop a kiss onto Mary’s head “Night honey.” “Night Fliss, thank you for the best day ever.” “You’re welcome.” Fliss said, straightening up before she headed out of the room. “I wish Fliss was my mom.” Mary sighed, and Frank looked at her, frowning slightly. “I mean, I know my mom loved me but…I never knew her.” Frank sighed, and ran his hand over Mary’s head “I know, Stack, but…well, she would be very proud of you, you know that.” “It’s Mothers’ Day in a week.” Mary said “I heard Fliss talking to Verity about it before, asking her if there was anything she wanted.” she reached out, her hand grabbing Frank’s, her fingers playing with his “Do you think Fliss would mind if I made her a card and maybe got her some flowers?” “I’m sure she would be fine about it.” Frank felt his chest tightening. He hated how wise and old she acted at times. “Now come on, lights out and…try and worry about something else, like how much Monty shit you’re gonna be shovelling from now on.” “The best type of shit!” Mary grinned.

“I’ll let that one go because it’s your birthday.” he pointed at her “But repeat that again, I’ll hang you out of the window by your ears.” She giggled as he stood up and dropped a kiss to her head, before he made his way into the bedroom.

As soon as Fliss was out of the shower, Frank was on her. His hands and mouth roving every bit of her body as he laid her on the bed. He was needy, wanting to feel grounded after the, frankly, surreal weekend he’d had and she was his home, the one person he knew he could rely on to keep him sane, and feeling safe. It was intense, and when it was finally over, they both collapsed, at the complete wrong end of the bed, tangled under a blanket, neither having mustered the energy or the desire to move.

As good as their sex was, no scratch that, as mind blowing as their sex was, he knew that Fliss craved the after moments just as much, where Frank would simply tenderly hold her, snuggle her, kiss her...treat her like a human instead of some kind of object there merely for his gratification and he was happy to oblige. They lay together, Franks left arm resting under Fliss' neck as her long hair spilled in a mass of waves off the edge of the bed as her face rested mere inches from Frank's, a dazed smile on her features. He smiled softly back at her, his right hand reaching up from where it had been resting on her hip to gently cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheek.

"What you thinking about Sailor?" She asked softly, looking onto his ocean blue eyes as he took a deep breath.

"How lucky I am." He replied.

She gave a soft chuckle as she scooted a bit closer to him, nuzzling her head under his chin. His arms both moved to wrap around her and cradle her close as he dropped a kiss to her head.

"Do you think Mary had a good day?" Fliss asked softly and Frank made a noise of affirmation in his throat.

"Are you kidding?" He looked down at her. “She got a new bike, her own pony, a library's worth of books, a tonne of money, a trip to New York, a ridiculously expensive pair of riding boots, which by the way your parents are still in big trouble for, and to top it all off she ate enough cake and roast beef to feed a small army. I'd say she’s had a fucking amazing day."

"I think it went ok with Evelyn too. Well in that no one drowned one another"

Frank gave a huff of a laugh as his hand ran up and down Fliss's spine "it's a sad state of affairs when that's the sign of a successful dinner...no one being drowned."

"You clearly don't know my mother that well." she snorted and at that Frank gave another small laugh, the vibrations from his chest passing to Fliss'.

“Speaking of Mothers.” he said, suddenly remembering his conversation with Mary as he had tucked her into bed before. “Mary asked me something before…” “Yeah?” Fliss looked at him.

“So, it’s Mother’s Day on Sunday.” His hand brushed Fliss’ hair back “And she asked me if I thought you’d mind her giving you a card.”

Fliss blinked for a moment, her mouth falling ever so slightly open.

“If you do, then it’s not an issue…” Frank hastily began but Fliss cut him off.

“No, I…” she took a deep breath “Of course I don’t mind…not at all. But do you?” “What?”

“Well, how do you feel about it?”

Frank shrugged “She gives one to Roberta every year, not a card about her being a mother as such, it’s more a thank you for everything she does…I suspect yours will be the same.”

“Feel like a bit of a fraud though.” Fliss shrugged. “Fraud?” Frank looked at her.

“Well, yeah.” Fliss shrugged. “You’re the one that does the hard work with her, I just get to do the fun stuff.” “I don’t think you realise just how much of an impact you’ve had on her since coming into our lives.” Frank said honestly “I notice things she does now, that she never did before, things which she’s blatantly picked up from you.” “Like what?” Fliss looked at him.

“She helps you with dinner…” “You never cook.” Fliss cut him off

“The way she’s far less serious…” Frank pressed on “The way she is with Monty, how she gets on with your parents…wants to buy damned throw cushions.”

Fliss chuckled, her hand resting on Frank’s bare hip “You know, you don’t give yourself enough credit for how she has turned out. I know you don’t look upon yourself as her dad but…well, you are. In everything but name and have been since she was six months old. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“So in conclusion you’re ok about the card?” Frank said, and Fliss laughed, recognising that for what it was. Him moving the conversation along, the way he always did when he was feeling bashful about praise.

“Yes, I’m fine about the card.” she smiled at him, her hand reaching up to run through his soft, fluffy hair.

“We should probably get in bed…” he mused, his eyes closed.

“We are.” “I mean the right way round.” “Oh…” Fliss sat up, and Frank heard the rustling of bedcovers before something soft hit him in the face.

“Problem solved” Fliss grinned as he reached up and grabbed the pillow she’d smacked him with, chuckling. Shoving it under his head he settled down slightly, arms round his girl, closing his eyes.

**** Chapter 17

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic

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floggingink · 3 years

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OH HERE WE GO LADIES IT’S RIVERDALE, CHAPTER EIGHTY: “Purgatorio”

I’m tuning in to be VERY entertained on the grounds that I missed almost the entirety of S4 and will not understand anything

we open with an incredible analogue comparing the football team to the Army, as men do construct rituals: football players get blown into the sky, etc., in a heartrending mash-up of Archie’s innocence + the American ideal/expectations/pipeline of masculinity

Archie Company is decked out appropriately to storm Hürtgen Forest

that art direction trope where a character’s hearing goes EEEEEEEEEEEEEE after an explosion……...delightful

the Vixens and friends cheering him on from the sidelines as if Archie can only process his unprocessable present through the lens of his past………...hits the spot

distressingly wood-based rifles for our purposes

Archie > Dawson: I don’t mind telling you I felt emotion upon Archie hoisting his war buddy over his shoulders to that quadruple-toned “Chivalric Archie Using His Strength for Good” tune, like when he broke his whole hand busting Cheryl out of Sweetwater River

WHEN HE SAW HIRAM LODGE, I’M TELLING YOU!

Hiram’s dragon-scale gloves? absolutely savory; he would

“Yonkers” is one of those New York place names I don’t totally buy is real (Poughkeepsie is another)

the sepia-toned light in this hospital room rings true judging by all the Captain America fanfiction I’ve read; I also like the mint-colored hand towels draped on Archie’s bedframe bought, one assumes, using the Department of Defense’s Kohl’s Cash

Archie made Sergeant, which is the best ranking for a fictional character: important enough that they can be a leader, get into trouble; low-profile enough that you don’t have to write them in the room making terrible decisions; probably won’t die immediately, as a Captain or Private might be

Fifth period is AP English: Archie reads A Farewell to Arms to Corporal Jackson, a WWI novel by Hemingway that Jug definitely turned him onto

Christ, Archie looks good in that on-leave jacket thing

I like Jackson’s subtle graph paper-print hospital gown

Gay?!: was Jackson in love with Archie? is he gonna bus to Riverdale once he’s off his pain meds? RAS, is that you in there?

God you know I love that haunted-ass Exorcist wooden bench bus light lighting

how long has the WW been relocated under Pop’s??? I do NOT know what happened to La Bonne Nuit

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: Fangs’ hair? his Tony Stark glasses? the girls’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” Burmese pythons? Toni’s headdress and immaculate glossed lip?

Sixth period is Intro to Film: the only part of From Dusk till Dawn I’ve seen is Salma Hayek putting her toe in Quentin Tarantino’s mouth but judging from that I figure I’d like the rest

The female gaze: Jesus Sweet Pea still looks good

Toni’s stage is flanked by twin pillars of melting candles and I would like someone to track those down for my bathroom

if they lay one hand on Pop Tate…

Betty appears to be, on her own, running the FBI training course. Betty is such a freak

Betty’s FBI-appointed psychologist is “Dr. Starling,” wears a great yellow blouse; Betty eats what appears to be a mini-sized Milky Way

her blond FBI trainer-boyfriend (uh) Glen appears to be an unholy fusion of Jimmi Simpson and that one actor with brown hair and really sharp light eyes whose acting credits I can’t think of right now, you know who I’m talking about (not the guy from Vampire Diaries)

I quite like her patterned blouse and I hate his yellow (gold?!) and blue tie

Please protect Betty: obviously we stan the Silence of the Lambs shit even as it remains infuriating Bryan Fuller couldn’t get his hands in it

Betty’s cat’s crying was so disturbingly baby-like that I had to leave the room once I realized it was in fact a cat

I’ve watched the Elisa Lam tape too many times in recent hours to handle this hallway shot

REALLY GROSS LICKING NOISES

the Trash Bag Killer coming at her was scary :(

Betty’s lovely blue knit cardi with the puffed sleeves!

50 Shades of Betty: clearing her throat before the doctor quite finishes her sentence—Lili Reinhart continues to be great at conveying “slightly perturbing subterranean tension”

was Charles a serial killer too??? oh damn!

Betty has been successfully holding off giving Glen a key to her place until now, an era that must come to a close

fellas, “Do I at least get a kiss?” is a bad move

Veronica was rich: Veronica’s new digs: exposed brick, bougiely avant-garde chandelier; possibly an elevator door right there behind the dude?

Veronica has married Hiram, to no one’s surprise

Chadwick looks like Jimmi Simpson and brunet Evan Peters plus a jaw

Veronica’s single-puffled-sleeved gown…..madamn (she has absolutely been taking secret birth control pills)

Summer + Blair = Veronica: of course Veronica would be great at Howard Ratner’s job; I MUST know what “specialty showcase haute couture offense” Vinnie has committed

T-Dubbs’ green jacket

Veronica pretended she was working at like, a department store? but she MISSED the EDGE post-day-trading

their apartment is so expensive that their bedroom is totally exposed

oh my god, Hermione

Best costume bit: please get me these satiny green high-waisted slacks?! and ugh her blouse has shoulder tassels……..she’s flourishing

“That’s threatening to an alpha like Chad.”

yes, they have a private elevator. fine.

Glen and Chad get their ties from the same Men’s Warehouse

“When that helicopter went down on the way to Martha’s Vineyard…”

you know kissing is 4-real when one person cups their hand to the back of the other person’s neck all close

I don’t understand the drop of the Glamergé egg but I appreciate that there is one and that Veronica is like, get this the fuck out of my house

Veronica’s shiny cropped tweed two-piece, Yvonne’s weird feathery coat that matches her bf’s shirt (you know she’s supposed to be “too much” because she’s got big hoop earrings)

God, Jughead is next and I’m not gonna be able to handle it

OH GOD IT’S SO MUCH WORSE THAN I THOUGHT

Alphabet City?! the piano?? the fucking East Coast Beat typewriter shit—the day robe? I’m—READING CLUBMASTERS? FORSYTHE???

OH GOD HE’S DATING ANOTHER WRITER (she has nice pants)

Jughead eats: “that place you like” is a HOT DOG STAND in the middle of SOME GRASS

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Jughead wears high-ankle light blue jeans, grey socks, and spectators that blend to create the illusion of wading boots. I’m going to commit a crime

Jughead doubts it: “So did Kerouac. And Hemingway. And Fitzgerald.”

fuck yes I love Floundering Jughead, and his Pushy Agent who pronounces “career” like “Korea,” and the continuing tradition of Jughead getting kicked out of his house

I like Literary Grifter’s sweater

the Brat Pack, and most of the Rat Pack for that matter, were actors, but I assume RAS couldn’t resist the rhyme

I was 100% afraid we were about to learn Cora was an uncomfortably-young undergrad

the musical cue as she reaches into her bag is absolutely as if she’s taking out a gun, and it might as well be! it’s the scariest thing in NYC: an unpublished manuscript

showrunners doing a classic I Love Lucy job partially concealing Vanessa Morgan’s pregnancy via medium close-ups, draping black clothes

Cheryl slowly turning to ask if doesn’t she look okay 10/10 icon

Cheryl’s pins: she has either a tiny spider or maybe a tick

Cheryl’s sheaths: the lacy red thing, amazing

why is Cheryl’s left hand gloved?

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: Cheryl’s going to forge a Rembrandt, which unfortunately means she’s my favorite person on the planet (she does not look happy about doing this)

btw is Nana Rose an Immortal?

please tell me about Toni’s eyelashes

EXTREMELY HAUNTED DOLL?!

“Damn good coffee”: Archie’s earnest “Where are people gonna sit for the bus?” slayed me

fuck YEAH Ghoulies party house! terrible music but really good skull spray paint art

Jug looks LOW lol

Veronica’s blouse + buttons, impeccable

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Tabitha/Squeaky

the hellscape semi’s red backlighting and its skeleton’s red eyes

I like Linette’s glossy bomber!

the trucker who’s about to kill her can’t also be the Trash Bag Killer….truckers have to stick to too much of a schedule….but he could be Betty’s meandering serial

I loved this episode

NEXT WEEK: Archie brings the FBI down on some people paying their rent :(

#riverdale #i say #commentary #tropes

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rockislandadultreads · 3 years

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2021 Paranormal Fiction: books not to miss

The Girl Who Died by Ragnar Jónasson

Teacher Wanted At the Edge of the World Una wants nothing more than to teach, but she has been unable to secure steady employment in Reykjavík. Her savings are depleted, her love life is nonexistent, and she cannot face another winter staring at the four walls of her shabby apartment. Celebrating Christmas and ringing in 1986 in the remote fishing hamlet of Skálar seems like a small price to pay for a chance to earn some teaching credentials and get her life back on track. But Skálar isn't just one of Iceland's most isolated villages, it is home to less than a dozen people. Una's only students are two girls aged seven and nine. Teaching them only occupies so many hours in a day and the few adults she interacts with are civil but distant. She only seems to connect with Thór, a man she shares an attraction with but who is determined to keep her at arm's length. As darkness descends throughout the bleak winter, Una finds herself more often than not in her rented attic space - the site of a local legendary haunting - drinking her loneliness away. She is plagued by nightmares of a little girl in a white dress singing a lullaby. And when a sudden tragedy echoes an event long buried in Skálar's past, the villagers become even more guarded, leaving a suspicious Una seeking to uncover a shocking truth that's been kept secret for generations.

The Book of Accidents by Chuck Wendig

16 hours, 49 minutes A family returns to their hometown—and to the dark past that haunts them still—in this masterpiece of literary horror by the New York Times bestselling author of Wanderers Long ago, Nathan lived in a house in the country with his abusive father—and has never told his family what happened there. Long ago, Maddie was a little girl making dolls in her bedroom when she saw something she shouldn’t have—and is trying to remember that lost trauma by making haunting sculptures. Long ago, something sinister, something hungry, walked in the tunnels and the mountains and the coal mines of their hometown in rural Pennsylvania. Now, Nate and Maddie Graves are married, and they have moved back to their hometown with their son, Oliver. And now what happened long ago is happening again . . . and it is happening to Oliver. He meets a strange boy who becomes his best friend, a boy with secrets of his own and a taste for dark magic. This dark magic puts them at the heart of a battle of good versus evil and a fight for the soul of the family—and perhaps for all of the world. But the Graves family has a secret weapon in this battle: their love for one another.

The Library of the Dead by T.L. Huchu

Sixth Sense meets Stranger Things in T. L. Huchu's The Library of the Dead, a sharp contemporary fantasy following a precocious and cynical teen as she explores the shadowy magical underside of modern Edinburgh. When a child goes missing in Edinburgh's darkest streets, young Ropa investigates. She'll need to call on Zimbabwean magic as well as her Scottish pragmatism to hunt down clues. But as shadows lengthen, will the hunter become the hunted? When ghosts talk, she will listen... Ropa dropped out of school to become a ghostalker. Now she speaks to Edinburgh's dead, carrying messages to the living. A girl's gotta earn a living, and it seems harmless enough. Until, that is, the dead whisper that someone's bewitching children--leaving them husks, empty of joy and life. It's on Ropa's patch, so she feels honor-bound to investigate. But what she learns will change her world. She'll dice with death (not part of her life plan...), discovering an occult library and a taste for hidden magic. She'll also experience dark times. For Edinburgh hides a wealth of secrets, and Ropa's gonna hunt them all down.

The Charmed Wife by Olga Grushin

A sophisticated literary fairy tale for the twenty-first century, in which Cinderella, thirteen years after her marriage, is on the brink of leaving her supposedly perfect life behind. Cinderella married the man of her dreams--the perfect ending she deserved after diligently following all the fairy-tale rules. Yet now, two children and thirteen and a half years later, things have gone badly wrong and her life is far from perfect. One night, fed up, she sneaks out of the palace to get help from the Witch who, for a price, offers love potions to disgruntled housewives. But as the old hag flings the last ingredients into the cauldron, Cinderella doesn't ask for a love spell to win back her Prince Charming. Instead, she wants him dead. Endlessly surprising, wildly inventive, and decidedly modern, The Charmed Wife weaves together time and place, fantasy and reality, to conjure a world unlike any other. Nothing in it is quite what it seems, and the twists and turns of its magical, dark, swiftly shifting paths take us deep into the heart of what makes us unique, of romance and marriage, and of the very nature of storytelling.

#fantasy #adult fantasy #to read #tbr #Book Recommendations #reading recommendations #paranormal fiction #mystery #mysteries #booklr #library #currently reading #paranormal #paranormal books

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cutegirlmayra · 3 years

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Sokai Prompt, My brain is enamored by the idea of Kairi housing Sora’s heart, and he can just ‘fade’ into their reality to help her. Gosh, my mind never stops..!

They’re living rent free in my head, man.

Prompt:

It was strange, you know?

These dreams I’ve been having… it’s like… two worlds… blend and mend into one seamless… long lasting world.

But… is this reality even real? Or… not?

“Every time?” Riku asked, sitting beside me on the street as Yozora had asked us to stay hidden, but that was kinda hard when our clothes made us stand out the most…

“Yeah… at first, I thought it odd, but…” Thinking about it too long made my head hurt…

I gripped my head and kicked my legs out, “Ah! This is so frustrating! Do you think I’m somehow connected to Kairi too?”

I had just finished telling him about these dreams where I’m looking through Kairi’s eyes, and sometimes… when she goes to sleep, I can see her talking to me from within the horizontal, stained glass window of her heart.

I remember her words well too… the first time I was there, and every night since, the script doesn’t seem to change much… but I can tell it’s hard on Kairi.

Within the dream, Kairi is always speaking to me, and though I can see her and she can see me, I can’t talk at all.

It’s kinda tormenting, seeing her struggling but trying to keep her spirits high and not being able to comfort her that I’m alright and safe, and that Riku made it here too!

“I know that I’m not ready to face the other side of this reality… the fictional side… but I’ll get there, Sora. I won’t fail!” Kairi had her hand bundled against her chest, nodding with a strong determined look in her eyes… but I’d see how much she’d work at her training with Aqua, how hard it really had been compared to Merlin’s and Master Yesid’s quick lessons. Kairi was highly talented, and I didn’t have anyone in the beginning! She’s progressing so much faster than I ever did!

Riku said the same thing too, that if it is Kairi, she shouldn’t push herself so hard. It took us a long time to get even remotely close to where we are, and I had to regain some of my strength! I told him I couldn’t tell her that, and for some reason, I can’t speak back to her at all.

“Do you know if it’s even possible that this might just be you worrying about her?” Riku adjusted how he was sitting, taking his arms that were just resting on his knees up behind his head… wait, was he mimicking me? “I mean, it’s normal, I guess.”

“Normal?” I tilted my head, confused. “Really?”

“Yeah, you’re about at that age… dreaming of someone you care about isn’t all that strange anymore.” I about lost it.

“Riku! T-that’s not-! That’s not what I meant at all!” I went to contend it but saw him crook a humorous smile, as though he really was just joking around with me. “Ah, you…!” He grappled my head and it was like old times, rough-housing until we saw someone paying attention to us.

“Let’s go.” Riku turned serious again, letting me go and getting up.

“Y-yeah.” I rushed after him, following behind. Looking over my shoulder, I could see these ‘business’ like guys in suits trying to follow… guess our talk about dreams will have to wait-

“Kairi’s strong, Sora. You need to trust her.” Riku jumped over a trashcan, which I jumped and summoned my keyblade to knock over, turning around.

“Fire!” I cried out, gripping it with two hands as the ball of blazing light clashed into the paper in the trashcan, creating some smoke but blocking the pursuers from keeping track of us.

We darted into the woods, panting as I gripped my knees to stay upright and Riku leaned against a tree.

“Man… what do you think they want with us, Riku?” I looked back, glad we weren’t able to be followed.

“Don’t know, but I think that’s why Yozora wanted us away from the streets… we’re far enough now to be out in the open, but this world has a collective eye that doesn’t like us around… it seems.” Riku summoned his own keyblade, looking it over, “Looks like us being keyblade wielders is more noticeable than I thought.”

We were trying to keep a low profile and not reveal our keyblades, but looks like Riku was right, even without them--people still somehow could tell we were from another world…

Though, I think our clothes wouldn’t set that many alarms off in people’s heads… right?

“Besides…” Riku raised his head, looking off in the distance, “...The only way I could find you was… through a dream too.”

“H-huh?” This was the first time I had heard about that. I sat down and spread my legs out, getting ready to hear his story, and placed my hands down in the middle while unsummoning my own keyblade. “You mean… you had a dream… about me?”

“Don’t get too flattered.” Riku grinned over his shoulder and I flashed him a signature goofy grin of my own, closing my eyes to emphasize I wasn’t gonna make that joke… at least aloud, I didn’t seem to need too.

“Yeah, well… It seems your connection to Kairi is somehow different and… maybe stronger.” He nodded his head towards the distance again. “Think you can try again? This time, maybe speak back to her? Tell her where we are?” he looked sincerely back to me, but I shook my head.

“I’ve tried, she can’t hear a sound.” I admitted, “I just remember… she was in danger and I…” I looked at my hand…

“You… what?” Riku asked, trying to follow up.

“...Nevermind.” I let it go, I couldn’t tell him how odd that felt. One moment, I was sleeping, seeing Kairi in The Final World and fighting a piece of her heart that looked just like Xehanort. “Maybe you’re right… I just see her being so strong for my sake… I’ve never realized… how much she tries for me too.”

“Too?” Riku folded his arms after gesturing away his keyblade, mocking me again. He loomed over me a bit and teased with another joking smile, “You should know,... Sora… more than anyone… just how much she works for us all.”

I couldn’t argue with that, I had been saved by Kairi too, I knew that much.

I just always thought I wasn’t enough for everyone without my friends… but Kairi… was always enough. At least, that’s what I had once thought.

Now I realized that I had been a strength for Kairi all along, and that she also struggled with becoming strong enough too. I just wish I could tell her what I’ve learned and the things I’ve gained from being together and apart. But…

I picked up a rock and threw it, “I just wish I could tell her that! Tell her that… I can see her… I can see now... I-...” I covered a part of my face with my hand, feeling a bit hopeless.

Riku must have seen that and bent down, putting a hand to my shoulder, “It’ll be okay, Sora. I found you, we found you. We’ll get you back to Destiny Island and this time, we’ll all celebrate together… alright?”

He beamed, “Yeah! You got it.”

“Tonight, if you do have that dream, try and see if you can change it somehow.” He instructed, which made me wonder--change it?

“How do I reach out to her?” I gestured my hand out, showing I was in a bit of a pickle here. “The dreams are pretty random. I see her training when she’s awake, or getting upset with herself not progressing soon or fast enough for her. I can see her… let’s see… writing letters?” I gripped my chin and thought about it as Riku got up and moved a little away, thinking as well.

“Strange… I saw the buildings, and you walking around… I never saw through your eyes though.” Riku comments made me think maybe it was the real Kairi, and maybe she was having some pretty bad insecurities, but smiling and making promises to me in her-

“That’s it!” I scrambled on the ground to try and hurriedly get up, growing excited. “Riku! It’s when she’s sleeping! That’s when I can connect to her! When we’re both not awake!” I stumbled a bit on making my way over to him, “All I have to do is take a power nap and hope she’s sleeping too! Then I can try and grab her attention somehow and-” I grew very animated in my planning, but Riku just cocked his head, replying sharply.

“And play charades?”

I slowly felt my energy dissipate by his words, flopping my arms down, “Y-...Yeaaahhh…” I kicked the ground, letting my body wobble and sway slightly in my disappointment. “What would you do? Write on her heart?”

“That might not be best.” Riku shook his head with a smile, “But… If you really can’t communicate, then I guess all you have is... you.”

I nodded my head, though it may be difficult, I’d have to communicate with my body instead of my words.

“Guess I should train for tonight!” I twisted my torso and stretched out my arm socket, rotating it around and doing some exercises in place. “Think you can interpret me alright if I train hard for it? Then I can match how hard Kairi’s working too!” I stopped to grip my two arms into fists and hold them up, showing I would do anything to give her some peace of mind.

Riku laughed lightly and agreed, “Alright, we don’t have much to do until Yozora tells us what’s going on with his friends and if we’re safe to find a way out of here yet or not.”

“Isn’t your heart the key to returning home?” I pointed to him and he sighed.

“Should be that simple… but the heart I used to connect to this world is bound to the ‘inbetween’. Since I don’t have her heart here at present, it means we have to somehow bring her heart back… which could be disastrous if someone else takes it during our attempt to retrieve her.” Riku explained.

“Oh, right. The Star.” I remembered, I still had something to tell him. “You mentioned her… before.” I nodded, showing my understanding. “Her body needs to be rescued, yeah? Then what are we all waiting for?”

“Well, first, we need more intel. Yozora, for some reason, is being pretty tight-lipped about it.” Riku and I both mimicked the other’s actions and folded our arms, ‘hmm’ing as we studied the ground and thought.

“... Oh, well. Can’t sit around doing nothing, if Yozora wants to get things settled his way before involving us in it, then… I say… that’s up to him, right?” I wanted to be sensitive, it seemed the Star and him had a deep connection that was being jeopardised by these ‘business suit’ people. Whatever they wanted, they got it, at the expense of their bond.

“Right.” Riku looked disturbed, maybe feeling bad for the Star, so I gave him my best smile and patted his shoulder, gripping it for good measure. ‘Cheer up, Riku. I’m not just trying to get you to help me, I just can’t stand still for very long. It’s really not your fault.’ I didn’t want to say that to him at the moment though. Riku had so much to worry about from back home, to me, to now thanking the Star that risked a lot to get him here.

When he showed up, I guess the suit guys got wind that the only possible way he could travel to their world was through her. A shame it had to be like that, but now they were doing everything to double-up on their protection and securement of the Star’s body.

“Who is she? Do you know?” Riku asked and I shrugged, letting his shoulder go.

“Yozora’s dear friend… but besides that, it beats me.” I wanted to respect somewhat of their privacy…

“...Does it, though?” Riku looked away, apparently putting two and two together.

I just grinned with a faint blush of embarrassment, scratching behind my head. “They do seem fond of each other…”

“...Enough to dream about one another?” he looked up into the sky and I knew he was teasing me again, but in a more contemplative way this time.

I immediately jumped on my feet and was ready to brawl, “Why, you-! Quit teasing me on that! Every jab is like a blow to my pride!” I gestured vigorously out with my hand so he’d see this meant a lot to me, and if Yozora was the same… “I respect him for him!”

“Heh, you two show things differently… but I think I can see the same feelings and emotions towards it. Well, I won’t pry, but I think our only hope of getting out of here and back to our world is finding a heart connected to ours.”

“Our hearts?” I inquired further for clarity sake.

“Our world.” Riku emphasised, “Which means, even with her back in her heart and body joined back together again… There’s no telling if she’d be able to get us back. Her heart got me here… but…”

“And my heart’s missing… too.” I touched the empty space where a heartbeat should be… and knew that Kairi was keeping it safe.

“Wait…”

I rose up my head.

“Kairi..? Is Kairi my key back home!?” I stomped my foot down to lean into Riku’s vision line again, since he kept looking away to think to talk.

“Kairi..? If it were that simple, you could just use my heart, right?” He flipped his hand out to dismiss it, but I shook my head.

“You can’t go home with your own heart leading the way, right? Not without jeopardising it. You said that because you used the Power of Waking on the Star’s heart, that you were thrown into a similar position as me, right? That means… we need both a heart from our world that we can connect too… but someone to open the gate for us. You could be the gate, since you didn’t lose as much as me, and Kairi could be my path to getting us home.” My reasoning stood to be tested, but you know what? I think it makes sense!

“That’s pretty far-balling it, Sora.” Riku stated, not too sure about it. His eyebrows creased together into a furrowed brow and I knew he’d need more convincing. “If what you say is true… then we use my heart as a type of channel to yours, then have someone unlock your heart from Kairi’s, and basically ride the channel back to our world.”

“We’re all connected, it could work.” I was excited, but deeply concerned I would make him worry again.

I wanted to give him some hope… anyway.

After a minute that seemed like forever to me, Riku finally conceded. “We’ll keep it in mind.” which was enough to satisfy me! I put my hands behind my head and lifted a foot back behind my other, just glad we were on the same page.

“So… Tonight…” Riku addressed the other matter that broke me from my relaxed positioned and made me nervous again. “What exactly do you want to convey to her? That we’re alright, and that she shouldn’t stress out so much about not being on the same level as us yet?” He took one of his arms that were folded and swayed it about, as though we were kids and I hadn’t thought this through yet.

Well… he was right, if that’s really what he was assuming.

“I… uh… well…” I pivoted a bit from him, pushing my pointer fingers together in a bit of shyness. “Maybe…” I wanted to say a lot more then that… but I wasn’t gonna admit that to Riku! He’d tease me for… well, for forever!

“I see.” He dropped his hands and seemed to chuckle to himself, and I decided he already knew what I meant and just dropped it too.

“It was hard enough to try and think of putting it into words… but now…” I lowered my head, “Riku… what if I’m not enough to help her?”

He shook his head, “What are you talking about? Don’t be silly, whatever you try and convey, I’m sure it will brighten Kairi’s spirits.” He walked ahead of me, “Everyone’s worried about you… not just Kairi. So, whatever you say, should be something she can relate back to others, yeah?” He was right, I should tell her about this other world too, but it’s hard to put anything simple into a step-by-step gesturing game.

“What if… she thinks I’m just a dream too?”

“Then convince her you’re not, show her the truth of it.” Riku wasn’t really helping… but I appreciated that he was believing me now.

“Easier said then… charaded!” I tried to mime myself swimming, then swinging, then playing ‘peek-a-boo’ and he sighed and realized I wasn’t very coherent in anything.

“Alright, let’s take it from the top.”

We only had a few minutes to really rehearse and concrete anything that showed ‘clarity’ of what I was trying to say when the suits found us. That was a whole ride, we battled and got finally got somewhere when Yozora--accompanied by his friends--finally met us up at last and we were able to get a lot done and figured out that day.

That night, I was exhausted, and I practically forgot about seeing Kairi and what I was gonna try and convey.

When I went to rest for the night under a huge tree with a big enough space under it’s truck for us to rest in, I looked over and saw Yozora looking up at the stars in the night sky…

‘I understand, buddy.’ I thought to myself, empathizing, and remembered Kairi.

“Ah! Riku…” I looked over to him and saw his back facing me, he was already getting ready to lay down and threw up a thumbs up for me, apparently having thought of it before I did.

I smiled, looking down at my grass bed, “Okay… here goes.” I got comfortable and tried to sleep… reaching out to her… ‘Kairi… This time… I won’t just silently listen… I want to say something back, and I hope you’ll understand me this time.’

When I opened my eyes, I was already standing up and upon Kairi’s heart, looking at the design and smiling at the familiar feeling of knowing this was her.

I looked up into the darkness above me and closed my eyes, until a flash of light triggered and I saw window planes of memories flying around me.

I walked around, realizing Kairi must not be asleep yet.

‘Okay, I’ll wait.’ I nodded, and summoned my keyblade. ‘Let’s see what she’s up to.’ I pointed it out, watched the tip of it begin to glow with bright, radiant light and slowly rose it to the top of the blackness.

It shot out and then fell like a beam over me, opening some path to me from her heart into her mind and eyes.

When I opened my eyes, Kairi was panting and running, Aqua using all her might to lunge and attack her.

‘Still training? It’s so late.’ I felt her heart racing and gripped my own chest, ‘Kairi…’

She turned around and perfectly blocked the attack, ‘Yes! You’ve got it!’ she had improved so much since last time! It was awesome! I gripped my hands into fists and held them up, getting pumped during her training before I saw her stance weaken and heard her grunt under Aqua’s high-stakes pressure training. ‘Oh no…’ I looked down at my foot and slid it into position, having her own foot fade like a ghostly after-image over mine. ‘Kairi… like… this-!’ I twisted my foot to scoot hers into the right direction.

Immediately, Kairi pivoted her foot and regained her balance, letting her force push through without fault.

‘YEAHHH!!!’ I jumped up and cheered as I floated in the space where I was seeing her fight. ‘Way to go, Kairi!’

Aqua pulled back, looking a little surprised by her sudden strength, and then smiled. “Looks like you’re learning quicker than I can teach. Tell me, when did you figure out your footing was misplaced?”

“I… I just felt someone guiding me… as if…” She got back up and placed her hand on her heart, but before she could say my name, she started to collapse.

‘Ah!’ I wanted to grab her but I couldn’t, and in her after-image of falling, I saw Aqua quickly hold her up.

“I thought I requested a good night’s sleep the other night. What’s keep you resisting my instructions?” Aqua lightly scolded, tilting her head as though understanding Kairi’s commitment, but trying to show her that it was unfruitful for her training purposes.

“I wanted to… re-run a few combos… ugh…” She gripped her head.

“Have you eaten?” Aqua asked.

‘She better have!’ I felt my whole being wanting to just skyrocket through her eyes and be there with her… taking her into my hands and not someone else’s… More than anything, I wanted to be there for Kairi… help teach her and train her too, maybe train together with her! I know I’ve forgotten a lot of things, and mostly learned what I could from actual experience… ‘Kairi… Kairi… please, just rest so I can connect with you!’

“I’m fine.” Kairi smiled weakly, but sheepishly got up and began to bow to Aqua, “Master, I’m sorry for not resting enough as you’ve told me to.”

“It’s alright, but let’s meet somewhere in the middle.” Aqua’s tenderness made me glad that Kairi was in good hands… even if I couldn’t be there for her now… “I still require some toughness from you… but please, take care of yourself. Your keyblade is only an extension of your power, you are the true key.” she gestured to Kairi then her own keyblade, before finally nodding and placing a hand delicately to her heart. “Power and strength… are nothing without the will that controls them. If your body is exhausted, then it can’t do as the will commands, and you’ll never be able to progress beyond this point.”

I felt Kairi’s breath get taken and felt so sorry that she was misunderstanding. Aqua wasn’t saying she couldn’t ever get stronger, only that if she didn’t find the right balance, she’d only weaken herself and slow her training down further.

‘Kairi… be brave, don’t falter now.’ I urged, but as I opened my mouth, nothing came out.

‘Please… hear me, Kairi!’

Kairi lowered her head and I looked down at my fist, seeing her ghostly after-image over my own… her fist was tightened and shaking in her frustrations…

I felt my face bend in anguish, opening my hand and holding her own shaking one… even though I knew it was just my spirit and hers… I hoped she could somehow feel the comforting touch.

I had hoped that’s how she would see it, but as she flinched and looked at her hand, I seemed to have only scared her.

I pulled it away and looked away… it was hard to see this. See how much she really was trying to be strong enough to save me with Riku too…

‘Kairi…’ I just squinted my eyes closed, what was this feeling? Of wanting so desperately to be by her side and…

“Kairi?” Aqua tilted her head.

“R-right. Sorry, I understand now. I’ll… go straight to bed, Master Aqua.” She nodded to her, remaining humble, and gave her a formal bow of her head with her keyblade pointed down and held with both hands, a sign of respect. “Excuse me, and thank you for the training.”

Aqua nodded, but seemed concerned as Kairi retreated.

‘Aqua… you’re doing fine.’ I wanted to reach her heart too, but as Kairi pulled away, so did I. I held out a hand to her, though, ‘Let me try and be there for Kairi too… We’ll help her… together.” I nodded my resolve and waited for Kairi to actually get settled.

Giving her some space and privacy, I floated back down in the pillar of light to her heart, resting and trying to review the things Riku and I discussed.

‘Okay, simple words and think of imagery strong correlations… Ah, what were those again?’ I gripped my head, ‘Man, all I can think of is-!’

“Sora..?”

The voice was so gentle, it resonated in me…

I tried to relax as I took a deep breath, and turned around to face her.

‘Kairi…’ I tried to mouth her name, but it seems she couldn’t perceive that either.

She smiled to me kindly, but I could see her face shift to insecurity as her eyes began to show her true sorrow.

“I tried hard today… and I’ll try harder tomorrow. You… and Master Aqua needn’t worry about me.” She shook her head, then looked squarely in front of her where I was, not willing to show me any loss of will. “Today, I learned that my will isn’t strong enough either. I need to re-dedicate myself. I thought my promise to protecting you and bringing you and Riku back home safely was enough… but if my body can’t keep up, then it means I have to train both my will and being at the same time. If they’re strengthened together, then I can keep pursuing my promise to you, without any limitations.”

She was so strong… her eyes were filling up with glossy tears and she wouldn’t let a single drop be shown to me…

‘Kairi…’ I walked towards her.

She lowered her head and continued to bundle her hands into fists, shaking them to the side of her. “I felt you… today, I felt you correct me. I was happy to feel you again… but… scared to rely on you too much. But then… Master Aqua got me thinking… what if… What if you’ve been my strength this whole time, Sora? What if… I need to rely on my own strength? But saying goodbye to you twice is too much!” She gripped her head, and I moved quickly in response, gasping inaudible as I raced to meet her. “What if… I’d rather be strong with you… even if that means I’m not strong on my own?!”

I knew how that felt.

‘Kairi… Kairi, I’m here! You’ve always been there for me, too! Remember? Even if we’re apart, we’re-!’

I embraced her.

She froze a second, probably because neither of us knew we could actually do that in this state.

But we were two hearts now… as long as her heart was here with mine, we could do anything.

I just held her so close, as I felt her arms feeling my own, as though still in disbelief that she could.

“Sora… Sora, are you alright? Did I scare you? I didn’t realize… I didn’t realize your heart could understand everything I was saying… I thought… it was kinda like a comatose state. I thought… if I just wrote and spoke to you in my letters and dreams.., it would help me stay on course.” I felt her wrap her arms around me and we held on tightly.

I didn’t care about telling her or performing my ridiculous dance of charades anymore. There was one thing I could convey, and this embrace was riding on everything for her to understand how I was feeling too.

She moved slightly and I reluctantly stepped back, giving her a gap between us as she reached to grab my hand, holding it like we had before I… disappeared.

She placed her own over mine, “You’re safe?”

I nodded, with my own eyes growing hazy in how torn I was leave her… but I was waking up.

I felt my body disappearing again…

‘No… just a little longer… let the twilight last-! Just a couple minutes longer..!’

“Good.” She lightly giggled through her obvious heartache. If she could only feel my own…

“And Riku and you are together?”

I nodded again, hurriedly, feeling the fading as her hand dropped to show my own had already disappeared.

I saw her whole being lowering as though about to collapse again, then her mouth turn into a sharp frown before her face scrunched together and her strength was gone, jumping into my arms.

“Then I can do it! I’ll work with my heart over both my body and my mind! I won’t fail you, Sora, or Riku, or King Mickey! Master Yensid… Master Aqua… I won’t let anyone down!”

So much of the world she seemed to be placing on her shoulders… and for the first time, I couldn’t lift it off of her.

It was too much for her, though, I wish she’d see that and take her time on her training, but I could tell we now had plenty of motive to sleep at good times and not push ourselves too terribly hard.

Besides… I could hold her and be with her every night… and that was enough for me.

When I woke up, Riku and Yozora seemed to be in deep conversation with one another, “So… this Kairi… could be a way to save both you, Sora, and-” Before Yozora could continue, I groaned and gripped my head, the leafs under me crinkling and scratching against each other, causing a racket.

Riku and Yozora turned around from the entrance of the tree’s open mouth, and seemed ready to hear what I had to say.

“Does she know?” Riku asked.

I just opened one eye and nodded… then a huge smile scraped across my face.

Riku pulled back a second, not sure what to take of my hinted meaning.

“Did you… Did you do as we had planned?”

“N-not… exactly…” I looked away, and Yozora looked confused as he leaned forward.

“Are you… Blushing?”

I covered my face and fell back into my leaf bed, “D-Don’t look!”

Riku finally backed off my back about it, but he often poked my cheek to remind me how ‘adorable’ I looked after I woke up… ‘I thought he said he wouldn’t make fun of me anymore!’ I thought with a red face.

#sokai #soraxkairi #kairi #sora #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts prompt #sokai prompt #sokai fic #sokai fanfic #sokai ficlet #cutegirlmayra #sora and kairi #kingdom hearts melody of memory

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captcas · 3 years

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Screwed (A Destiel AU)

Screwed by capthamm (Part 1 of 2)

Dean inherits the old family inn and has to move home to fix it up for selling. When the work proves to be too much, he enlists in the town's only contractor's help– his neighbor, Castiel. Dean is short on time, stuck in a hometown riddled with old flames, and falling for the man who lives next door. He's screwed.

notes: I'm halfway through season 7 and missing Mr. Castiel on my screen so this poured out. I'm almost finished but here is part one. My first ever attempt in the Supernatural fan fiction world... please be kind. Thank to my lovely beta, Luke <3 (@bawley_bug) read on ao3

At this point, Dean’s left thumb had been hit by the hammer more than any of the nails and he was regretting every single choice he ever made that led him to this exact moment.

Why the fuck did he think he was cut out for restoring an inn? Not just any inn– the inn. The one John ran before he got too old and retired, eventually– well let’s just say Dean isn’t here out of any sort of living guilt.

Dean’s not sure why he’s here.

If he breaks it down, it’s because he received a letter in the mail exactly two months after the passing of his father detailing how Lawrence would have no choice but to tear down the old inn unless someone from his family claimed it.

Sam’s not going to leave his law practice and the life he built for Jess and the twins, out in California.

Dean’s the only one left.

So, taking things extremely literally, he’s here because a bunch of lawyers told him he needed to be.

Another slam into his thumb jolts his train of thought off its tracks and convinces him to pack it up for the night. He snaps the tools back into his massive toolkit and stands back to look at the old built-in shelves he decided would probably be the easiest to tackle on his own. Nodding at the good-enough outcome, he turns to scan the rest of the main floor.

Maybe the built-ins are the only thing he’s going to be able to do alone.

Dean doesn’t like the thought of teamwork– especially not with the grumpy prick who lives next door. His neighbor stopped by the day Dean arrived because apparently it was John’s dying wish that their neighbor offer his services when his estranged son eventually showed up to fix the inn. (Leave it to his father to leave Dean feeling inadequate from the great beyond.)

“No, thank you.” “Excuse me?” “You offered, I’m declining. Debt, paid.” "As you wish, Winchester.” Even wrapped in the neighbor’s deep lumbering voice, Dean winces at his last name– it feels just as constricting as it did when he thought he’d be stuck in this town forever, “Dean.” “Whatever.”

Dean thought that’d be the last he’d see of the guy until he marched away and slammed the door just across the small garden. That house used to be for whatever innkeeper his parents had hired, but when the inn closed they rented it out to whichever soul felt like a one bedroom one bathroom home was enough to live in.

Apparently that was this asshole.

They’ve seen each other three more times since then, but never long enough to even exchange names. Dean isn’t sure why he’s keeping track– each time just as unpleasant as the first. Sure, Dean could’ve been friendlier, but warning bells rattled through him every time the neighbor’s stormy eyes met his. Dean may have sworn off unnecessary human interaction for the foreseeable future, but he’s not blind and his neighbor isn’t hard to look at.

But his life has no room for attractive neighbors with an attitude problem.

Convincing himself there must be someone else in this town who knows their way around a fixer upper, Dean heads to the Roadhouse for dinner and hopefully the name of someone else to help him get the inn fixed up enough to sell.

Walking through the front door of the restaurant-meets-dive-bar, the familiar smell hits him like a breath of fresh air. He can’t believe he held out for almost a week before eating here. The Roadhouse is one of the few places left in the town left untouched by rotten memories and painful nostalgia. Nothing but good ever happens once he crosses this threshold and it’s that fact that allows him to relax for the first time since moving back to Lawrence.

He starts to order his usual and Jo winks signaling she remembers even after all these years– Dean can’t believe she runs this on her own now. Jo always swore she’d get out of this town, break the chains of her mother’s legacy, but nevertheless here she is– here they both are.

Jo looks happy, maybe even at home– Dean? Not so much.

The plate drops in front of him and Dean catches his old friend lingering a bit. He looks up and says thank you and that was all it took to spark some small town gossip from Jo. While he didn’t come back to rekindle any old relationships– friendly or otherwise– Dean doesn’t mind her company and before he knows it he’s laughing and taking his last bite of burger. The conversation starts to die and Dean remembers why he came to town in the first place, “Oh! Jo, I meant to ask. I’m fixing up the old inn and I need help. Do you have the number of someone who–”

“Of course, Dean! Chuck retired, but Castiel took over, after Gabriel ran off to Thailand.” Dean raises his eyebrow and Jo laughs, “ That’s a story for another meal. Here,” she hands over a napkin with a number scrawled across it, “Castiel is the best in town and will fix up that inn in no time.”

Castiel.

Dean racks his brain for any recollection of someone named Castiel from their childhood but the name doesn’t ring a bell— and a name like that definitely would ring a bell. He supposes people must move to Lawrence, just like any town, and resigns it to someone new since he left.

He can’t expect everything to stay the same while he spent the last 15 years trying to change in every way imaginable.

Thanking his friend for the help, Dean pays and heads home for the night. Finally having the name of someone to help has lifted a huge weight off his chest. He sighs as he crawls onto the old mattress in the first floor suite, thankful it’s dark enough that he can’t nitpick all that needs to be done. The sooner he can get the inn fixed up, the sooner he can sell it and go back to Sioux Falls and the life he chose rather than the one his parents forced on him.

Maybe it was the comfort of the Roadhouse or the knowledge that this process will move twice as fast with a little help, but Dean sleeps better that night than he has in years. When he wakes with the sun, he feels energized and ready to continue his work on his family’s property.

He decides to start with disassembling the kitchen cabinets and it doesn’t take long for him to find a rhythm in his work— four screws and a trip to the pile, four screws, trip to the pile. Lost in the easy monotony, Dean forgets his decision to call for help until late into the morning. Hoping to catch the contractor before lunch, he brushes the dust from his hands and digs in his pocket for the napkin Jo had written on last night.

He’s not sure why he feels so anxious as he waits for the man on the other end of the line to pick up, but he supposes it rests on the fact that this man only knows Dean by the reputation he left town with— John’s other son.

Sam was always the golden child— pretty blonde cheerleaders and a full-ride to Stanford are not even an exaggeration when it comes to his younger brother.

Dean, on the other hand, was always rough around the edges, emotional, and different — let’s just say he’d go for the cheerleader or the quarterback.

As soon as Dean was shoved out of the closet— his dad walking in on him and Benny not leaving very much up for debate— John shut him out completely. Dean brushed it off as his dad’s way of fighting every piece of homophobia he was raised with, but the fact is: it was more likely he was disgusted by his own son.

But that was ages ago and, from what Sam’s told him, John died swearing his love for both his boys.

Not that Sam would tell Dean otherwise.

“Hello?” A gruff voice breaks him out of his daze and he’s startled back to the present day.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, uh, is this Castiel?” It’s the first time Dean’s said the name aloud and he can’t help but notice how easily it rolls off his tongue.

“This is. How can I help you?” The man is all business, clearly not as affected by Dean’s use of his name as Dean was.

“Oh yeah, uh, I got your name from Jo at the Roadhouse? My name is Dean Winchester and I’m fixing up the old Winchester Inn and I’m realizing the job may be too massive to handle on my own.” Dean winces at his blatant request for help, never one to ask outright for assistance, but as he looks at the pile of kitchen cabinets which need to be sanded, painted, and rehung, he knows he can’t do this alone. He realizes the man on the other end of the line hasn’t said anything when he continues, “Uh, that is if you have the bandwidth for that…”

Another pause before the man, Castiel, speaks again, “I can be right over.”

Dean didn’t really know how to respond, he was expecting to bargain for payment or at least for a delay in starting the project. He’s not used to this immediate willingness to help a complete stranger. He’s about to stumble through a response when he realizes Castiel is no longer on the other end of the phone. He shrugs, and sets it on the counter as there’s a knock on the door.

Shit. The only way Castiel could’ve gotten here that fast is if he’s...

Dean opens the door to the man he’s now seen a mere four times despite his permanent residence on Dean’s property. His neighbor— Castiel— looks different today. The usual softness that accompanies the man overtaken by strong arms, an AC/DC t-shirt, and a tool belt placed perfectly on his hips.

Whoa, Dean.

“Uh, hi?” Dean isn’t sure how one goes about re-introducing themselves to apparently the only help in town after being an ass before. But he’s here and Dean introduced himself on the phone and he still came.

“Hello.” The man– Castiel– greets Dean so matter of factly as he glances around Dean quizzically, presumably taking in the whole of the inn. Dean is a little taken aback by this whole interaction and the way it’s entirely different than any they’ve shared previously. Castiel’s eyes meet Dean’s and Dean can’t help but notice a hint of playfulness before Castiel speaks again, “So you do need help?”

Dean rolls his eyes and Castiel laughs sending a shockwave through Dean he hasn’t felt in ages. He promptly ignores it before motioning towards the foyer and inviting his new contractor inside. They don’t exchange any pleasantries, but rather head right to work. Castiel asks questions about everything from the crown molding and stair railing to Dean’s plan for the half shattered French doors.

The man is thorough and he knows his stuff.

Maybe teamwork with him won’t be so bad.

They finish their walk through and Dean is relieved to hear that Castiel agrees the upstairs mostly needs some fresh paint. John left some money to fix up the inn, but not enough for a total overhaul. After working through the budget, they decide it’ll be more cost effective if it retains its original charm.

“Well, Dean, I like what we’ve got here and I think we can make something out of this.” Castiel slouches into one of the bar stools near the kitchen island as he surveys the room one more time. Dean does his best not to notice the sweat slowly making its way down Castiel’s collar bone and beneath the collar of his t-shirt, and the way he says Dean, and his implication that this is theirs . Dean hasn’t shared anything for most of his adult life– mostly because he hasn’t had anyone worth sharing something with.

But this inn feels like it’s meant to be shared, and Dean can’t seem to find any reason not to do so with Castiel.

“I’m glad you think so. I suppose we should discuss payment…” Dean trails off as Castiel’s gaze becomes confused.

“I don’t intend on charging you a dime, Dean.” Castiel’s matter of fact smile returns and Dean can’t ignore the way his gut flutters.

He’s not a nun, Dean’s been attracted to people for as long as he can remember being alive. From Lucy Jones in kindergarten to a myriad of characters in his adult life, he’s always been a people person loaded with an innate attraction for the kind of itches you scratch and forget ever existed.

Castiel is beginning to feel like an itch he’d like to scratch.

But that’d ruin everything, especially Dean’s plan to sell the inn for as much as humanly possible and then get the hell outta dodge.

“I appreciate that, but I have to give you something…” Castiel waves Dean off and he realizes arguing would be useless. “Thanks.”

Castiel nods before taking time to study Dean until it almost feels awkward. Dean is typically the one doing the studying, and he feels naked under this man’s gaze. They remain in a silence delicately balanced between comfortable and awkward until Castiel speaks again, “Well, best I get back to my place. I will see you tomorrow morning, Dean.”

As Castiel stands, he adjusts the toolbelt around his waist and Dean forces himself to look away, not willing to tempt himself with the flash of skin exposed during the adjustment. The contractor must notice because he smirks slightly before nodding his head in goodbye. If he didn’t know better, Dean would swear Castiel walks a bit closer to him than is necessary. He shakes it off before heading to the bathroom to shower off the grime of the day before checking in with Sam, Jess, and the kids.

. . .

They work surprisingly well together.

His new partner is a quiet but sturdy presence throughout the day– rarely chatting about more than the weather or whatever task needs to be done– but on occasion Dean will learn a bit more about him. He’s started to compile a list of Cas’s likes and dislikes– for example, Cas likes that Dean gave him a nickname.

“Hey, Cas, can you hand me the socket wrench?” "Cas?” “Uh, yeah, short for Castiel. You got too many syllables, man.”

Cas nodded and moved on with the task, but Dean can’t help but notice the small smirk everytime he has to call Cas by name. Cas also smiles whenever a screw goes in without a fight and when the first raindrop of an impending storm hits his forehead.

Dean likes it when Cas smiles. (Apparently Dean’s compiled a list for that, too.)

He’s tried to largely ignore the growing attraction for the man he’s working with for more than eight hours a day, but it gets more difficult with each glance to make sure the other is still in one piece and every accidental touch of hands when they pass off a tool.

At least Dean tells himself it’s accidental.

He hadn’t gotten enough out of Cas to even know if he “plays for that team,” as Sam likes to say. Dean is almost positive John wouldn’t have encouraged the two work together if Cas is gay, but there are moments that give him more hope that he deserves.

“Dean!” Cas’s steady voice startles him from the monotony of painting kitchen cabinets and his overflowing thoughts.

He puts down the paintbrush and walks over to the fireplace where Cas is supposed to be sanding down the mantle, “Yeah, Cas, what is it?” There’s that smile– sometimes Dean wonders if he uses his nickname for Cas just to get a glimpse of it.

“I’m hungry and I’m out of sand paper.” Cas looks up from the stool he’s been sitting on for hours with a hint of puppy dog eyes. Dean isn’t exactly paying Cas so he could definitely come and go as he pleases, but they tend to stick to a similar schedule everyday. Checking his watch, Dean sees it is lunchtime and agrees to head into town for a sandwich.

“I should probably get cleaned up a bit…” Cas trails off as he surveys his dusty jeans and sweat drenched t-shirt. Without trying to, Dean gets lost in the unfairly attractive mess of it all for a moment too long. He looks up to speak again and Cas is smirking almost knowingly.

Shit.

“Yeah, sure. You can use the shower here if you want but no promise there’s any hot water.” Dean scratches behind his ear nervously. This wasn’t any sort of purposeful invitation, but he can’t help but feel a wad of want fall into his stomach. Cas simply nods his thanks before heading into the main floor bathroom with a change of clothes he brought “just in case”. Dean laughed when Cas told him that he’s always that prepared and cited the fact that Cas only lives thirty steps away from the inn. He simply shrugged and said “You never know” and that was the end of that. Dean supposes Cas was right and the change of clothes had come in handy.

Though, not exactly how Dean thought they would.

As he hears the shower turn on, Dean goes back to painting kitchen cabinets in hopes of distracting himself from the very attractive, very naked man that is showering in the next room. It works for a while but eventually the knowledge feels stifling and Dean decides to clean up quickly and wait for Cas on the porch.

“What’re you waiting out here for?” Cas walks outside, resting his arm on the doorframe to only accentuate his bicep muscles. Dean knows if he looks at what is probably disheveled and wet hair from the shower it’ll take every piece of willpower he has not to jump the guy right then and there.

“Let’s go.” He leads Cas to his car without looking in his direction or answering his question. As Dean walks around the back of the impala he sees Cas smirk again.

Bastard.

They take the short drive into town before stopping at the hardware store. Dean needs to pick up some new screws so he can finish the cabinets and Cas needs some more sand paper so they decide to split up and grab what they need. Cas cuts right, beelining for the aisle like he lives here– now that Dean thinks about it, Cas probably does come here a lot– and Dean wanders to the left looking for the screw aisle.

He ends up finding them along with a confused pre-teen boy comparing screw sizes to an outlet cover. Dean laughs to himself before offering his help, “Anything I can help with?”

The boy turns to Dean, startled at first, but then relaxing when he doesn’t sense any immediate threat, “Yeah, that’d be great. My mom sent me in here twenty minutes ago, but I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

Dean laughs, “Well, your Dad should’ve taught you screw shopping at the very least.”

“How could he do that when he doesn’t know I exist?” The kid says it so matter of factly, Dean isn’t even sure he heard him correctly. He scans him for signs of distress, but whatever therapy he’s getting must’ve worked because the kid goes back to comparing screws without missing a beat.

“Fair enough. Here, you’ll want these ones,” Dean grabs a four pack of the screws the kid is looking for and hands it to him. “Then you’ll have extras in case you need to replace another one.”

“Awesome, thanks! My names–”

“Ben? What’s taking you–” Dean winces, he’d know that voice anywhere and the fact she paused means… “Dean?! What are you doing talking to… what’s going on here?”

“Mom!”

“Lisa…”

Ben (apparently) and Dean speak at the same time, both turning towards the woman Dean hasn’t thought about in years. They were something– more than something– for about a year, but John’s pressure pushed Dean out of town and Lisa refused to leave Lawrence... so now they're here, awkwardly looking at each other in a hardware store.

“Lisa, look, I can explain–”

“Dean, I found the sandpaper and I also grabbed some extra paint for that wall in the living–” Dean’s cut off as Cas rounds the corner looking down at the sandpaper packaging and clearly missing all the fun in aisle nine, “Oh. Hi!”

Then Cas waves , an adorable wave that if Dean wasn’t so goddamn turned around probably would’ve sent him spiraling. Dean facepalms to hide his smile and proceeds to rub his calloused hands through his hair trying to decide what to say next. But Ben must be oblivious to the absolute shit storm happening a foot above his current height because he chooses this moment to chime in, “I was confused about which screws to get and Dean offered to help, Mom. That’s all. And look,” Ben holds up the package Dean handed him what feels like an eternity ago, “Got ‘em!”

That kid just saved Dean’s ass.

Lisa still looks a little stunned to see Dean– his return had seemingly not reached the far ends of the town gossip chain quite yet– but then she glances back towards Cas… and then back to Dean.

He’s about to correct her when she surprises him with a hug.

They didn’t exactly end on bad terms, but he probably could’ve been nicer when he told her he was leaving.

Hence why the hug catches him off guard, as does what she quietly whispers in his ear, “I’m glad you found someone that makes you smile like that again.”

Dean can't even formulate a correction before Lisa’s telling Ben to thank Dean for his help and the pair is heading down the other end of the aisle. He turns towards Cas who is staring intensely at a speck on the floor by his feet, but seems to be smiling all the same.

Maybe Dean isn’t wrong about him.

They check out and head back to the Impala in silence. It isn’t until they get home after swinging through the drive thru that Dean even realizes he forgot to grab the screws.

#Destiel #destiel ff #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #castiel owns my soul #where the fuck did destiel come from?#capthamm #please be kind I've only watched halfway through season 7

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justcallmehitgirl · 5 years

Text

Delicate (Tom Holland x Female Reader Smut)

Summary: You’re six months pregnant, and Tom is your best friend who wants to help raise your baby after your ex left you. Oh, and Tom happens to be in love with you.

Word Count: 5700

Warnings: LOTS OF SMUT. Language. Pregnancy!kink.

A/N: This is my first T.H. fic so I hope I did it justice. I’ll be writing more one-shots in the near future so please send me an ask or message if you want to be added to my permanent tag list.

Disclaimer: I do not know T.H. nor do I claim to know him. This is all a work of fiction and fantasy. Please do not take offense to any of the explicit content involving T.H. Please do not read further if you are bothered by this type of fanfiction.

You’re sitting on your couch idly flipping through the channels on your television when you hear the lock on the front door jiggle. You smile in relief, tossing the remote beside you, and turning your attention to the boy with wind-blown curly, brown hair pushing the door open with his shoulder. He has a bag of groceries in one arm and a bag of Chinese food in the other. You lick your lips and flex your swollen feet.

“Hi,” he huffs, shutting the door behind him with his foot and locking the door with his index finger and thumb.

“Hello,” you grin, eyes getting wide at all the food entering your apartment.

You rub your protruding belly and lick your lips, the scent of Kung Pao Chicken and Spring Rolls wafting through the air. Tom walks over to you and bends down to place a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“How was work?” he murmurs against your hair.

You shrug. “Oh just the usual… lots of paperwork, lots of demanding lawyers… it also doesn’t help that I have to use the bathroom every two minutes either. Makes work a whole lot more tiring... always having to get up and down. Maybe I should invest in Depends…” you say, squinting your eyes in thought.

Tom scrunches his nose, walking over to the kitchen and placing the bags on the counter. “Let’s save the diapers for the baby, alright?”

You roll your eyes and try to push yourself off of the couch to go over and help him put away the groceries. You nearly topple over in the process, and Tom practically runs over to steady you.

“Hey, hey… slow it down there.”

“I know,” you grumble. “I can’t help it that I’m a planet.”

“You should’ve asked me to help you.”

Your brows furrow. “I’m six months pregnant, not an invalid,” you snap.

That was what had taken a toll on you. Not the morning sickness. Not being able to eat soft cheeses. But being coddled like a child. You had always loved your independence, craved it since you were a child and cherished it as an adult. But seemingly overnight you had to lean on everyone around you for help.

Tom looks taken aback for a moment but he keeps his hands on your arms. You look down at the ground, at the television, anywhere but his gaze, regret starting to flood your body. You slump your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I just… hormones,” you shrug apologetically.

Tom nods and places a soothing hand on your back. “It’s alright, darling. I’ll make you a plate of food and bring it over to you, okay?”

You reluctantly nod in response before taking a seat back on the couch. You watch from the corner of your eye as Tom patters about the kitchen before turning your attention back to the television in front of you.

—

“Is it your ex?”

You look up from your plate and raise your brows. “What?”

Tom purses his lips and fiddles with the fork in his hand. “I feel like you’ve been in a mood all night. Is it him? Did he try something?”

You quickly shake your head. “No, of course not. I haven’t heard from him in months. You know he’s out of the picture.”

Tom nods. “Alright.”

Tom never liked your ex-boyfriend. He was a musician with an ego the size of Texas. Tom knew he saw other girls behind your back, coming home late with the strong scent of perfume and alcohol lingering about him. Tom knew he was using you. You had a stable job as a paralegal in one of the largest law firms in New York. He needed you, always making you pay for rent, groceries, you name it, he always found a way for you to pay for it.

But Tom knew you loved him and that you wanted to support his career. You knew how much music meant to him. So Tom tried to get along with him, accompanying you to his shows, going on double dates, and even engaging in small talk with him. Even though he always wanted to throttle him while they were together, Tom did it for you.

You watch Tom deep in thought, placing your empty plate on the coffee table in front of you.

“Hey space cadet,” you tease, bringing Tom’s attention back to you.

You chuckle a bit.

“Where were you just now?”

Tom merely shrugs. “Oh… just thinking.”

“Okay,” you nod. You reach for the remote when he clears his throat. You turn your attention back to him.

“I was thinking about cancelling my trip.”

Your eyes widen. “What? No, why?”

Tom places his plate on top of yours. “I just think it’s bad timing... you know with the baby and all. I just don’t want to leave you alone.”

You shake your head. “Tom, you can’t. You’ve planning this for a year.”

“Yeah, well life happens,” he reasons.

“Your brothers would be so disappointed.”

“Yeah well, they’ll get over it. They’re not having a baby in three months.”

“You act like you’re going to be gone for ages, it’s only going to be two weeks.”

“Well two weeks is a long time, a lot could happen.”

“Tom, I’ll be fine. My sister will be here while you’re away.”

“That’s super comforting,” he mutters sarcastically.

Your younger sister was a freshman at CCNY who could barely get to class on-time and clean her dorm room let alone take care of you.

“It’ll be okay. Plus, I know you’re only a phone call away.”

“Yeah, but...”

“No buts, Holland. You’re going on this trip, you’re going to have tons of fun, make lots of amazing memories… and hey, maybe you might even meet a girl,” you wink, “and then you’re getting your ass back here to rub my aching feet.”

Tom laughs, as you stretch out your foot and wave it in front of him. He catches it in his hands and places it in his lap, playing with the soft fabric of your socks. He traces his fingers over the zigzag pattern and smiles.

He would give up a year’s worth of vacations just to be here with you and the baby.

“You sure you’re going to be okay?”

You nod exuberantly. “I’ve made it this far, what’s two weeks?”

He smiles slightly, still a bit uneasy about it all. You can sense his discomfort so you place a hand on his.

“Thank you for being such an amazing friend, Tom.”

Tom can’t help but flinch at the word, ‘friend.’

“I honestly wouldn’t have made it through these past few months without you,” you continue, “I truly appreciate everything that you’ve done so far. My baby’s really lucky to have such a supportive father-figure. But...”

“Here’s the ‘but’ coming,” he jokes.

“But you gotta do something for yourself, okay? It’ll drive me insane to know that you’re going to be missing out on a vacation with your family to tend to me. I would kill to take a vacation right now so promise me you’ll have fun?”

Tom bites his lip, nodding reluctantly.

“Great, now let’s watch something scary, okay? After my day at work, I’m in the mood to see someone get axed in the face.”

Tom shakes his head and puts his hands up in defeat.

“Who am I to argue with a pregnant woman?”

—

It’s 2:30 in the morning when he hears it.

“Tom?”

He stirs on the couch.

“Tom?”

He groggily opens his eyes and leans up on his elbows. He sees you leaning against the doorframe. His eyes trail down your body and he can’t help but gulp. You’re wearing an over-sized t-shirt and he can tell you’re not wearing any pants. He calls out your name, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod. “I am b-but can you come to bed with me? I’m having trouble sleeping.”

You’re fiddling with the hem of your shirt, biting your lip and shuffling your feet.

He breathes in deeply and nods, removing the heavy blanket from his body. You take a step towards him and stretch your hand out. He takes it into his, squeezing your palm gently in reassurance. You lead him towards your bedroom.

You walk into your room and let go of him, crawling onto the bed. He catches a glimpse of your lace underwear, and he feels his mouth go dry. He quickly looks away, trying to think about anything but your lovely ass swaying in front of him.

He walks to the other side of the bed and slides underneath the covers, silently praying he doesn’t get a boner beside you.

It wasn’t unusual for him to sleep in the same bed as you. When your ex left you, he spent plenty of nights in bed with you, holding you and comforting you. You were devastated after he had left you. You had just told him about the baby, and he had gotten angry, accusing you of trying to trap him and ruin his career.

He had given you an ultimatum: him or the baby. You chose the baby and he was gone the next morning.

Tom naturally eased into the doting father role. He visited you often, sleeping on the couch, bringing you food, and helping you with your chores. His friends thought he was crazy for taking on the responsibility when the baby wasn’t even his. But he loved you. You were his best friend and you needed him.

But he also couldn’t deny his growing attraction to you.

He had always thought you were beautiful, but seeing you so maternal made something stir in his belly. He often found himself stealing glances at you, watching as you tucked pieces of loose hair behind your ears, bit your lip, and especially when you would walk around in just a t-shirt, the fabric stretching over your swollen stomach.

He doesn’t know when his feelings for you changed. He tries to pinpoint it in his mind. He looks back at the last twelve years that he’s known you and he thinks, ‘why haven’t I thought about you in that way before?’

You always had a special connection with him ever since you first met. Your dad was in the military and you moved around a lot, from Singapore to Guam to London. You were the quintessential ‘military brat.’

You were in middle school when you met Tom. You described yourself as a transient being, never truly fitting in at one place. You purposefully didn’t want to make new friends, lest you leave them for a new city and country the following year.

But Tom was friendly and outgoing, even though he was constantly teased for being a dancer. He immediately took a liking to you, telling you about his own dreams of adventure and travel. He found a kindred spirit with you.

He invited you to sit with him and his friends during lunch, sat next to you on the bus, helped you with your homework, and showed up at your doorstep with the newest dvds his dad had purchased so you could spend the weekend binge-watching movies.

When you were in high school, your dad finally retired from the military and you moved for the final time to your dad’s hometown in New Jersey. Tom was sad, staying with you until the car came to take you and your family to the airport. But he promised he would visit you often, and he never turned back on that promise. He would visit you during school breaks and even when his career took off, he always found a way to be there for you.

When you moved to New York a couple years ago, he rented an apartment a few blocks away from you. Albeit it was much nicer than yours, he was always very modest. He said it was convenient for his career since he had a lot of appearances in the city.

He shifts his body a bit to get comfortable, keeping a healthy distance between you two. He closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep, trying to keep any sexual thoughts of you at bay.

After a few minutes, you roll over on your side. He could sense you looking at him so he opens an eye and turns his head towards you before giving you a small smile.

“I see you staring, stop being such a creep,” he teases, trying to lighten up the mood, noticing the visible tension between you both.

“I can’t help it, my best friend is becoming such an adult.”

“Loading the dishwasher and taking out the trash hardly means I’m ready to be off my parents’ phone plan,” he laughs.

You smile and nudge his shoulder playfully. You let your hand linger for a moment, tracing his arm with delicate circles.

“Hey Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“C-can I ask you something?”

“You are asking me something,” he smirks.

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Forget it then,” you say in mock exasperation.

“C’mon, I was just kidding. What’s up,” he asks, motioning for you to continue.

“D-do you think I’m a selfish person?”

Tom rolls over so he’s also on his side facing you. He leans himself up on his elbow and knits his brows.

“What? Of course not. Why would you even ask that?”

You pause for a moment before responding. “So… I lied earlier. I am in a little bit of a mood… but you reassured me that I’m just being crazy and maybe it’s just more hormonal crap that I’m going through so I’ll just drop it,” you ramble.

He eyes you carefully and says your name in a low tone. You bite your lip. You knew you couldn’t not tell him.

“I… I saw Alexis the other day.”

Tom sighs heavily, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” you continue, “I didn’t want to upset you… but I saw her at Madewell, and well… I shouldn’t have even gone in there anyways because I don’t fit into anything they’re selling so that was a boo-boo on my end, and then I saw her at the register. I immediately tried to avoid her but then she saw me and chased me out of the store and said some pretty mean stuff and… and it just got to me.”

It’s a rush of words and you feel like you can finally exhale a bit at your admission. You knew how Tom felt about her and how upset he was at the demise of their relationship. You didn’t want to bring up old wounds but you also wanted to be open and honest with him. He had volunteered to be the father of your child afterall.

Alexis always hated your friendship with Tom. She constantly thought you were trying to steal him away from her, waiting for your moment to take him all for yourself. ‘You honestly didn’t think that big,’ you would laugh.

You tried to get along with her for Tom’s sake. You went shopping together, invited her to brunch with your friends, and even bought her nice birthday and Christmas presents. You really made a genuine effort, knowing it made Tom happy to see his girlfriend and his best friend getting along.

But you also knew there was also an unsaid tension between you that you couldn’t shake. She didn’t like that you and Tom hung out alone, that you would text each other all day, and that you would FaceTime him to vent about the attorneys at your office treating you like shit.

You couldn’t blame her though. Instead of having 100% of his attention, she had to share it with you.

Tom reaches over and places his hand over yours. “You shouldn’t listen to what she says. You know how things ended with her… she’s just not over it and it probably makes her feel better to attack you then to face whatever issues she has.”

You remember it quite well. Tom had just told her that he wanted to help raise your baby, be your baby’s father, and she completely threw a fit. There was a lot of screaming and crying.

‘No way, Tom,’ she screamed, throwing her hands in the air. ‘No way are you going to be in her life like that.’

Tom tried to explain to her that you needed him, and that your baby needed a father. He tried to make her understand, but she also tried to make him understand too. She didn’t want to be a mother, let alone some surrogate step-mother. She didn’t want to see him doting on another woman, caring for her and playing house with her. She didn’t want a part-time boyfriend.

And you knew she had a point. She wasn’t a villain in any of this. She loved Tom and she knew he would never love her as much as a child that he was willing to raise with another woman.

So when she yelled at you outside on the corner of 5th Avenue and West 19th Street, you didn’t really defend yourself. She was still grieving the loss of her relationship just like you had. The only difference was that you had Tom and she had no one.

“I know, but… I feel like everything she said was right. I feel like I cornered you into this, that I’m making you be a dad when it’s not your responsibility. This isn’t your baby.”

Tom can’t stop the feeling of hurt overcome him, and you see it in his body language. You immediately feel a pang of regret.

You shake your head. “Tom, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it like that.”

Tom licks his lips and shakes his head. He places a hand on your belly. “This baby is mine is every way that matters, okay? Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

You try to turn away, but he touches your face to make you look at him.

“I’m here because I want to be here,” he continues. “Even if you fall in love again... get married… I’ll always be this baby’s father, and I’ll always be in your lives.”

You feel your heart swell at his omission, your eyes watering. You’ve always loved Tom, but this… this made you feel like you were floating on a cloud. Even your ex didn’t make you feel this loved by a man.

Tom lifts up your shirt to reveal your stomach. He glances down and sees that he’s also revealing your underwear. He gulps and quickly brings his eyes back up to your middle.

He presses his ear against your belly and closes his eyes, listening to the baby’s movements. The sound of him breathing fills the room and you both just lay there, enjoying the sensation. After a few moments, he lifts his head up and smiles at you. You can’t help but smile back.

He lifts his hand and cups your face. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I… I love you too,” you choke out.

He begins to move away from you but you grab his hand and entwine your fingers with his. He tilts his head and watches as you move his hand back to your stomach. He instinctively rubs your belly, but you bite your lip and shake your head.

You feel a rush of emotions. You’re breathing heavily, panting almost. You don’t know what you’re doing, and it feels like your hormones are kicked up to high gear. You feel needy and wanting, loved and secure. Tom had always been there for you.

You had noticed the way he had started looking at you. He tried to be inconspicuous, but his gaze always lingered on you. You never addressed it though, not wanting things to be weird. You had lost your boyfriend, you didn’t want to lose your best friend too.

But tonight you wanted him to be more than your best friend. You feel butterflies in your belly, and it wasn’t from the baby.

He tilts his head. “What is it?”

You move his hand down to the waistband of your underwear and you can see his entire body tense. He stares at you, mouth open and eyes wide. You don’t have to say anything, your actions saying enough.

“A-are you sure?” he stutters.

You touch his face, tracing his bottom lip with your thumb before nodding.

“I… I don’t know about this... you’re my best friend and you’re pregnant...”

You place a finger to his lips. “Please, Tom. I’ve seen the way you look at me. I want to make you feel good as good as you make me feel.”

“But you don’t…”

“Shhh… please.”

Tom’s body slumps a bit, a sign of him finally relenting to your advances.

You lean in slowly.

“I just don’t want you to regret this,” he whispers against your lips.

You don’t respond, instead slowly pulling him down for a kiss, your lips pouty and eager. It’s gentle and tentative at first, two best friends exploring each other’s mouths for the first time. You place a hand on the back of his neck to bring him in closer to you.

The kiss quickly turns more passionate, your mouth opening to allow his tongue to tangle with yours. You stay like that for a few minutes, just kissing and groping each other. You pull away suddenly and Tom groans at the loss of contact. You reach down and grab the bottom of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head.

You toss it to the ground beside you and you hook your fingers underneath the waistband of your panties, shucking them down your legs. You look up over at Tom who’s staring at you, admiring your naked form.

Your breasts have gotten bigger and denser since you got pregnant. Your nipples becoming larger and more pronounced as well. You begin to blush, thinking about how monstrous you must look. You start to cover yourself with your hands but Tom practically jumps on you, placing his mouth over yours in reassurance.

You place your hands on the waistband of his shorts and push them down his legs, your mouth not leaving his. He kicks him off and pulls away for a moment to remove his shirt. You eye his muscles, reaching out to feel them underneath your fingers. He feels firm yet soft. His chest hairless and smooth. You had seen him shirtless plenty of times, but this was different... intimate. You run your hands down his body, savoring every ripple and touching every freckle.

Tom looks at your hungrily. He places a hand on one of your naked breasts, kneading it carefully with his fingers. His touch is gentle as he explores your body, gripping your side and playing with your breast. Your hand finds his hard, slick cock and you touch it tentatively. He pushes his hips toward you, granting you permission to continue. You hold onto his cock more firmly and give it a few stokes. He closes his eyes and moans above you.

“K-keep going,” he hisses in pleasure.

You continue to pump his cock, your hand wet with his juices. You feel yourself moisten, wanting him buried inside you. You’ve craved this for so long, not having contact with another man since your ex left you. You touched yourself at night, making yourself cum with your fingers. But you missed a man’s touch, the feeling of naked skin against skin, and having a hard cock pumping in and out of you.

“Please, Tom… I need you,” you groan.

Tom’s heartbeat begins to race and his breathing increases as he comes to grips with what was about to happen. He was going to fulfill a fantasy that he’s had for months. He blinks repeatedly hoping this isn’t a dream. He leans down and kisses you.

“Straddle me,” he commands against your lips. You can’t help but smirk. Once you let go of him, Tom grabs your hips and swiftly lifts you, placing you on top of him. He runs a hand down your spine and you instinctively shiver.

“Cold?”

He rubs his hands up and down your arms. You shake your head. A piece of loose hair covers your face and Tom reaches out to tuck it behind your ear, his hand lingering to comb his fingers through your mane. You lean down, balancing yourself on your arms as you kiss him.

He keeps his hand entwined in your hair as he grabs your butt and positions your dripping pussy over his erect cock. Pulling his lips from yours, he kisses along your collarbone making you shiver and moan.

Your hand closes around his cock and you brush it across your inflamed clit making him jump a little before placing the head at your opening. He pulls back and looks up at you, placing his hands on your face.

“Are you ready?” he asks. “There’s no turning back after this.”

You understand what he means. You were about to cross a major line in your relationship. A line that you had never once crossed before.

But you had already opened Pandora’s box, and there was no putting whatever you had released back inside. You were too far gone now, lust and longing taking over you.

You nod eagerly, and he strokes your face.

“I love you,” he states. “I’ve always loved you.”

You want to ask him what he means but you’re mind is clouded by the thought of having his cock buried inside you. Instead you merely respond, “I love you too,” saving that conversation for later.

Tom removes his hands from your face, placing them on your hips. He breathes in and out before thrusting upward, slowly impaling you on his cock. He groans loudly, feeling how incredibly tight you are. You moan and bury your face in his chest. You keep your butt firmly against his thighs, giving yourself time to accommodate his thick member. Both of his hands patiently rest on your hips, waiting for a sign that you are ready to continue.

He was in no hurry though, your snug warmth held him tight, the occasional flutter from your vaginal muscles rippling up his shaft. He was in heaven.

After a few moments, you begin to move, slowly at first, your hips rocking back and forward in a rolling motion. You raise your head from his chest, rubbing your cheek against his. Your breathing is elevated but steady as your movements become more confident.

“Oh… God… yes,” you pant.

You press down while moving your hips backward, grinding your clit into his pubic bone. You then rise up an inch or so, digging his cock into your g-spot as it withdraws. You rock forward, dropping your erect clit back into place against his pubic bone.

“Oh God, you feel so good inside me,” you purr, your words adding strength to his hard-on.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grimaces in pleasure.

You bring your lips to his and kiss him deeply. He stabs his tongue between your parted lips, your tongues twisting and coiling in a heated battle. Tom grabs your swaying breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You break your kiss with a sudden gasp. Your hip thrusts are now reaching an urgent tempo as you feel your orgasm about to break through. Your nails sink into his arms as you throw your head back and cry out in ecstasy. Your grip on Tom’s cock subsequently tightens, making him moan.

"OH… GOD… OH GOD… I'm cumming!” you scream.

Tom raises his hips to give you a firmer surface to grind your clit into as you ride out your orgasm. Your shrieks and moans rise and fall with the waves of pleasure washing over you. Tom holds onto your sweat-slicked breasts, attempting to continue stimulating you.

Your movements change, driving yourself up and down on his throbbing member. This triggers a second orgasm, not as powerful as the last but equally as pleasurable. You keep bouncing, riding out the last aftershocks until you’re out of breath before collapsing against Tom, who lets go of your chest.

You breathe in and out, trying to regulate your breathing. He runs his hand up and down your back soothingly.

“This feels so good,” you coo, snuggling into him.

“Well I hope cumming like that felt good.”

“That wasn’t what I was talking about… it’s this,” you say, snuggling in closer. “I’ve missed this. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone... it’s just been so lonely.”

“It’s okay,” he says, placing a kiss on your cheek. “I understand.”

“Have you been with anyone since…”

You can feel Tom shaking his head. “No… I… I got too preoccupied with you and the baby that sex was the farthest thing from my radar.”

He smooths your sweaty, matted hair from your face and kisses your forehead.

“I’m so thirsty,” you breathe, and he nods.

You sit up straight and dismount him momentarily. He sighs at the feeling of him slipping from your warmth. He sits up on his elbows as he watches you waddle out of the bedroom, your butt swaying with each movement.

“Stay right there, lover-boy,” you call out over your shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.

His body slumps back onto the mattress and he breathes out deeply, a smile creeping onto his face. He looks down and sees his cock standing straight up, dripping with your juices. He bites his lip, realizing his need for release.

You rejoin him on the bed a moment later, a glass of water in your hand. You take a sip, some water dribbling down your chin. He thinks you look so cute. You notice him looking at you and you remove the glass from your lips, frowning slightly.

“I look like a total mess, huh?”

Tom shakes his head and laughs.

“Not at all. I think you look like a well-fucked woman actually.”

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“Sure sure. Drink up, bud. It’s good for you.”

You pass him the glass and he takes it from you. He didn’t realize how thirsty he was as he gulps down the water. Once he’s done, he tries to hand the glass back to you but you just place a hand up, signaling that you’re done with it. He places it on the table beside him and lays back down, arms crossed behind his head.

You give him a peck on the lips before straddling him again, this time facing away from him.

“I want to do it like this,” you say, guiding his cock back inside you. You both groan in unison as he slides back in. “That way you don’t have to look at my fat stomach,” you add with a weak chuckle.

“Shut it,” he retorts. He sits up a bit and wraps his arms around your middle, running his hands over your swollen tummy. “You’re not fat. Don’t put yourself down like that. You’re absolutely, positively beautiful.”

“Psshhh, you have to say that.”

“I don’t have to say anything. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You shake your head, a blush creeping on your cheeks. He places a hand on your cheek and turns your face towards him.

“Really… I mean it.”

You look into his eyes, enjoying the closeness and his loving words. You open your mouth to say something but then you feel his hard, throbbing cock pressing into your g-spot. “Ohhhh,” you moan.

He lets go of your stomach and slides his hands to rest on your hips. You sit up and begin bouncing on his cock. You lift your arms, running your hands through your hair. You flip it over one shoulder, looking back at him with a sly smile. He feels like he’s going to cum at that moment.

You clench as tight as possible when you lift off his thighs, relaxing your grip momentarily when the head of his cock is just inside you. Then you clamp down and drop your weight into his lap, sending his eyes rolling in his head.

Tom is thrusting his hips in time with your movements. He can feel the pressure building in his balls and he knows it won’t be long before he came. You seem to read his mind, altering your rhythm to push him more toward the edge. Your body begins to tense and you know you’re about to cum again. You fall forward, supporting yourself with your arms, you butt bouncing with urgent need. His hand finds your clit and your body instantly begins to seize up.

“Oh yes, Tom… that’s it, play with my clit… I’m, I’m almost there,” you groan, bouncing onto his lap faster. “Oh… oh yes, I’m cumming again!”

Tom is in complete ecstasy watching you cum. You’re panting wildly and moaning as you drive yourself down on his stiff cock and your convulsing pussy sends Tom over the edge.

He can feel his balls tighten and his cock swell as the familiar surge of orgasmic energy radiates throughout his body.

"Oh baby… I'm gonna cum… I’m gonna… cum!”

“Yes, cum for me… that’s it, Tom,” you encourage.

He pumps into you frantically, thrusting into you even after his balls have emptied. You finally collapse backwards, your back pressed firmly against his heaving chest. You can feel the layer of sweat covering your bodies start to cool.

His arms encircle you, holding you tightly against him while his cock continues to pulse inside your quaking pussy. After a minute or so, you pull your body off of him and fall to his side. You curl into a fetal position, tugging the blanket to cover your nakedness, again self-conscious at being so exposed. He wraps his arms around you and you can’t help but revel in his embrace as you two drift off to sleep.

Reality could wait until morning.

Permanent Tag List: @alwayswritingsworld / @i-love-superhero / @unicorn6664 / @tulipsforharry / @hazmyheart / @tell-that-to-my-feather / @zabdisamor / @arcticfireworks / @delicately-important-trash / @ehiparkcarmi / @satansbabe1

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popentertainment-moviereviews · 3 years

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COMING 2 AMERICA (2021)

Starring Eddie Murphy, Arsenio Hall, Jermaine Fowler, Leslie Jones, Tracy Morgan, KiKi Layne, Shari Headley, Wesley Snipes, James Earl Jones, John Amos, Teyana Taylor, Vanessa Bell Calloway, Paul Bates, Nomzamo Mbatha, Bella Murphy, Garcelle Beauvais, Louie Anderson, Colin Jost, Trevor Noah, Dikembe Mutombo, Rick Ross, John Legend, En Vogue, Salt ‘N’ Pepa, Gladys Knight and Morgan Freeman.

Screenplay by Kenya Barris and Barry W. Blaustein & David Sheffield.

Directed by Craig Brewer.

Distributed by Amazon Studios. 108 minutes. Rated PG-13.

Eddie Murphy has spent the last few decades resisting returning to the story of Prince Akeem of Zamunda, the basis of his popular 1988 romantic comedy Coming to America. He has long insisted that he would only do a sequel if they could figure out a way to do justice to the characters and story.

And this is what he came up with?

Coming 2 America isn’t a horrible film, but it’s certainly not a good one, either. On the surface, it is a celebration of the original movie (which was good, but probably not quite as good as you remember) with nearly all the original living cast members. It shares Easter eggs for the fans and updates of the love story, but in the long run the movie feels too cartoonish and kind of falls flat.

Part of the problem with the film is a simple one. The title is misleading; there is very little America here. I get that the name is a cutesy way to show it is a sequel, but honestly there are just two short jaunts to America in Coming 2 America, making up about 20 to 30 minutes of total screen time. That changes the whole comic vibe of the franchise – instead of African characters being fishes out of water in Queens, New York, the characters from Queens are fishes out of water in the fictional African nation of Zamunda.

Instead, the movie should be called America Coming 2 Africa. I recognize that is an awkward title, but it is much more accurate to the plot. The problem is, the scenes in the African homeland were the least interesting parts of the original film, and now it is the main thrust of the new movie.

It misses so many comic opportunities brought forth by the changes in Queens in the 33 years since the original came out. Although gentrification is briefly mentioned in the same old funky barber shop from the original film (how do they pay their rent in the pre-COVID new millennium?) and the narrative briefly nods towards the changes, the Queens they show hasn’t really changed all that much. That includes the people in the barber shop – many of whom are played by Murphy and Hall under lots of makeup – who do not appear to have aged a day since the original. (This is especially vexing about Murphy’s old Jewish man character, who was nearly at death’s door over 30 years ago but is still apparently barely holding on.)

The story of Coming 2 America is rather simple. The King of Zamunda (James Earl Jones) is at death’s door and Prince Akeem (Eddie Murphy) is due to become King. However, he and his wife Lisa (Shari Headley), whose romance made up the original film, have three daughters, leaving the soon-to-be King Akeem without any male heirs to ascend to the throne when Akeem also passes. (Zamundan laws and traditions insist on a king, not a queen, to run the country.)

This is when Akeem learns from a witch doctor that he did have a son – from a barely remembered drug-fueled one-night stand during his original trip to the United States. Akeem decides to return to the US to find his heir (Jermaine Fowler) and bring him back to eventually rule the country – much to the ire of his daughters. Of course, the newly discovered prince comes with his own baggage, he’s a small-time scam artist with an eccentric family led by Saturday Night Live vets Leslie Jones and Tracy Morgan.

Like I said earlier, much of the comedy – as it is – in the new film revolves around the streetwise New Yorkers learning the luxurious ways of the Zamundan castle. There is a return to the subplot of the original film – the new prince is being set up for a loveless arranged marriage for political reasons, but he just wants to find the woman who is right for him.

Eventually Akeem, who has grown somewhat softened and spoiled by 30 years of royal luxury, comes to remember how idealistic he once was about love and possibilities. Coming 2 America basically looks at the original plot through a funhouse mirror, but it mostly loses the “fun” part.

Jay S. Jacobs

#Coming 2 America #2021 #Movie Review #Eddie Murphy #Jay S. Jacobs

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brooklynmuseum · 4 years

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Stronger Together

Hi Brooklyn. We hope you and your loved ones are safe and healthy. The times are difficult and it is valid if you may not feel your best. It is okay to feel your feelings, and take your time to heal during these moments. As you navigate these difficult times, remember that you are a part of the community that is here to support you. The Brooklyn, and New York community at large, is one of the most vibrant and resilient there is!

If you have questions, or have more you wish to see or to spotlight, reach out. We want to hear from you. Please email [email protected].

Also, text 'COVID' to 692-692 to get important COVID-19 related updates sent straight to your phone. You can text 'COVIDESP' to get updates in Spanish.

Local Business Highlights of the Week:

Oxalis is temporarily closed for service, but will offer pick up and delivery on Friday, Saturday and Sundays from 4pm-8pm of fresh and prepared foods, cocktails and wine. Place your order, or pre order at www.boxalis.com , by phone at (347) 627-8298 or by email at [email protected]

No-frills Korean flavors are still being served at the famed Kimchi Taco. Take out and no-contact delivery available from 12-10pm daily.

Census

A reminder to complete the 2020 Census today at my2020census.gov.

In this webinar, you will learn about the guiding principles the Census Bureau is implementing for the use of administrative records and research findings for the housing and demographic questions on the survey.

On May 12th, United Way is launching United We Count, United We Vote – a civic engagement campaign to mobilize people in civic participation and collective action during this time of uncertainty and social distancing. Register for the event here.

For literature on the 2020 Census and how it may affect your community, check out the reading below:

How Changes to the 2020 Census Timeline Will Impact Redistricting

Census in a Time of COVID-19: What can we do as individuals?

Resources for children and families

COVID-19 has dramatically changed our lives. All New Yorkers deserve to celebrate, honor, and memorialize their loved ones. Get funeral & burial guidance from the City of New York.

If your work schedule was reduced as a result of the coronavirus and you are unable to pay your rent, you can apply for a Cash Assistance special grant request to get benefits for emergencies.

The City of New York's COVID-19 Hotel Program provides free hotel stays to eligible New Yorkers who cannot isolate where they live and frontline workers in the healthcare industry who wish to reduce the risk of transmission at home. This will help New York City stop the spread of COVID-19.

Scholastic Learn At Home allows open access to daily learning journeys divided into four grade spans—Pre-K–K, Grades 1–2, Grades 3–5, and Grades 6–9+, covering ELA, STEM, Science, Social Studies, and Social-Emotional Learning.

CORE: CHILDREN OF RESTAURANT EMPLOYEES is dedicated to serving food and beverage service employees with children, who are faced with a health crisis or a natural disaster and are in need of support and in need of our help. If you have been diagnosed with COVID-19, you can apply here.

Resources for artists, freelancers, and gig workers

Rauschenberg Emergency Grant Program provides one-time grants to artists of up to $5,000 for unexpected medical emergencies.

Max’s Emergency Relief & Resource Fund is a one-time grant award of between $500-$1000 ($1,000 when funds are available) to assist artists in all art disciplines who have a steady work history, but who are experiencing a temporary financial set back. Visit their application here.

In light of the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on the artist community, on March 18 Foundation for Contemporary Arts launched the FCA Emergency Grants COVID-19 Fund. To find out your eligibility, click here.

Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of American have developed an Emergency Fund to help genre writers pay medical expenses not otherwise covered by insurance. Visit their website for more information.

Employment Resources

New York State is waiving the 7-day waiting period for Unemployment Insurance benefits for people who are out of work due to Coronavirus (COVID-19) closures or quarantines. Visit the New York State Department of Labor (DOL) website for more information.

The New York State Worker Adjustment and Retraining Notification (WARN) Act requires businesses to give early warning of closing and layoffs. More information for business is available from the New York State Department of Labor.

Find Employment through Virtual Workforce Career Center online. The Virtual Workforce1 Career Center system connects New Yorkers, via web or phone, to one-on-one help from professionals who can help.

NY Job Listings during Quarantine organized by Davide Chen.

PTFB is offering assistance in finding employment at Northwell Health for FOH/BOH foodservice and housekeeping positions. Find out how to apply here.

Resources for the Undocumented Community

List of Resources for Undocumented People in NYC may be located here. Document is translated in three languages, English, Spanish and Portuguese.

For more information regarding DACA, check out Informed Immigrants.

CUNY Citizenship will be live, May 13th at 12:00PM on Facebook with Shawn Rahman, Managing Attorney for Training and Capacity Building with the latest immigration updates.

Contact Jesus Perez if you are an undocumented student at Brooklyn College who needs support via email: [email protected] or phone: 718.951.5023

Funding Opportunities

The Carroll and Milton Petrie Student Emergency Grant Fund was created to provide eligible students facing short-term, nonrecurring emergencies with a one-time grant to alleviate the situation. To find if you are eligible, visit the Brooklyn College’s Website.

Volunteer or Participation Resources

The NYC Network of Worker Cooperatives has joined the national #ShareMyCheck campaign to encourage those in a relatively stable position to donate all or a portion of their check to people who are not eligible for these checks - those that are historically and contemporarily most impacted by economic and health crises.

LGBTQ+ Resources

Ohher Publishing angels is offering $50 relief funds for trans/non-binary/two spirt people of color who are in need of community support right now. To learn more, visit Leste Magazine.

Trans Lifeline is a trans-led organization that connects trans people to the community, support, and resources they need to survive and thrive. If you are in need of mental health assistance, visit their website here.

Upcoming Webinars

Tuesday, May 12: 2:00PM-3:30 PM: Brookings’ Reopening the Coronavirus-Closed Economy

Wednesday, May 13, 6:00PM-7:00PM: Make The Road New York will host a Seminario Web De Estudio Comunitario (community study webinar) on Facebook live.

Thursday, May 14, 2020 4:00pm-7:00pm: New York City Network of Worker Cooperatives is hosting a COVID-19 Health Awareness Training. The goal of this program is to Increase health and safety awareness for workers in industries with potential exposure to COVID-19.

Remember to Follow Our Elected Officials For Up To Date News:

Stay up to date with information provided by Governor Cuomo. Follow our New York State governor on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram for up to date information regarding new health guidelines closures, and executive orders.

The Mayor has a new Daily Message available on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and YouTube every morning. If your constituents have questions, comments or concerns, they want him to respond to, they can send them using the hashtag #AskMyMayor

The Office of the Brooklyn Borough President provides the most up-to-date information and resources to Brooklynites. Follow these pages regularly and follow Brooklyn Borough President Eric Adams on social media for real-time updates.

Congresswoman for the 9th District, Yvette D. Clark is working hard in Congress to support our local communities. Follow the Congresswoman on her Twitter to receive updates on what is going on in Washington DC and resources available in your ‘hood!

Follow updates and news from Council Member Laurie A. Cumbo on Facebook and Twitter. Cumbo serves as the Council Majority leader for Brooklyn’s 35th District- Fort Greene, Clinton Hill, Crown Heights, Prospect Heights and Bed-Stuy.

Follow New York City Council Member Robert E. Cornegy, representing Brooklyn 36th District- Bedford Stuyvesant and Northern Crown Heights on Twitter , Facebook, and Instagram for important updates regarding COVID-19 updates.

Check out New York City Council Member Brad Lander’s resource page aimed to help NYC-based freelancers and artists navigate these uncertain times. Have your voice heard, fill out the survey and explore what benefits might be available to you. Follow him on Twitter for important updates.

Follow updates from the NYC City Immigrant Affairs office on Twitter interested in renewing your DACA application form. Call ActionNYC at 1-800-354-0365.

Roxanne Swentzell (Kah'p'oo Owinge (Santa Clara Pueblo), born 1962). Making Babies for Indian Market, 2004. Clay, pigment. Brooklyn Museum, Gift in memory of Helen Thomas Kennedy, 2004.80. © artist or artist's estate

#covid #brooklynstrong #brooklyn #resources #communityresources #coronavirusresources #strongertogether #nyc #brooklyn museum #covid-19 #community #coronavirus

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