#oh i hope it's not hard to get groceries delivered in the new house... though it'll be a brand new address so idk

[berrymeter]

i am very bad at falling asleep but in my defense it's also the cat's fault. ok i try to do that now tho

[expectingtofly]

Sign Here

AU-Modern Setting, Meet-Cute, Dean is a UPS Driver, Cas and Dean are idiots, Gabe is trying to help

4k (oops this fic got long)

also posted on ao3

written for Day 2 of @starrynightdeancas 2k Followers Celebration <3 <3

Castiel knelt on the grass to pull up some stubborn weeds in the garden lining the front of his newly-bought house. The previous inhabitants had left behind a tangled mess of rose bushes and weeds, and after a week of unpacking boxes, he was happy to finally have time to spend outside. One of the perks of moving from an apartment to a small bungalow—finally space for a garden. Although, he was sure the inside of his house would soon become just as packed with plants as his apartment had been.

Engrossed as he was in weeding and planning what flowers he would plant to expand the garden, he didn’t hear someone approach until a shadow fell over the dirt. 

Startling, he looked up to see a man standing on the walkway next to him. “What—oh.” By the man’s clothes—brown collared shirt and shorts—and the package he was holding, Castiel realized he was a UPS delivery driver. “Hello.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the driver said, fighting back a smile.

Castiel stood, brushing dirt off his hands. “It’s alright.” 

The man held out a package. “I was gonna deliver this to your front door, unless you want to take it now.”

“Yes, thank you.” Taking it, Castiel looked down at the label, trying to remember what he had ordered. Something for his kitchen, probably.

“Did you just move in?” the UPS driver asked. His eyes were very green, a spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Freckles everywhere, Castiel realized, seeing the way they lightly spotted his bare arms. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

Realizing he was staring, Castiel reddened, glanced down at the package in his hands. “Uh, yes, I did. Last week.”

“Welcome to Bloomfield, then.” He nodded at the rose bushes. “Nice garden you got here.”

“You don’t have to lie, it’s a mess.” The driver laughed and Castiel smiled a little. “It’s not much now. Hopefully I’ll be able to fix it up soon.”

“I’ll keep an eye out, see how things develop.” The man took a step back and gestured to the UPS truck on the street. “I’ve got other packages to deliver. Nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Castiel said, watching him leave. Kneeling down to continue yanking out the prickly weeds, he smiled. It was nice to meet someone friendly; he hadn’t gotten to meet many people yet with the chaos of moving in. Of course, he thought, glancing back at the UPS truck as it rumbled down the street, it didn’t hurt that the driver was extremely attractive as well. 

***

The next week, Castiel was hanging up art prints in his living room when he heard the doorbell ring. Assuming it was for a package he’d ordered, he took his time getting to the door, straightening the print on the wall before weaving through the cardboard boxes he still hadn’t unpacked. 

When he opened the front door, however, he was surprised to see the green-eyed UPS driver standing on his porch holding the package.

The man’s face brightened. “Hi. Got a delivery for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, opening the door wider. “I didn’t realize you were waiting. I thought you delivery drivers just dropped off the package and disappeared.”

The UPS driver laughed. Such a nice laugh, Castiel thought. “Right, yeah, that’s what we normally do. But, uh, we have a new policy. Have to get a signature for packages.” He handed over a clipboard and pen, pointing to the line at the bottom of the page. "Just sign here."

“Oh. Alright.” Castiel took the clipboard and signed his name. When he handed it back, he saw the man glance at the signature. “Castiel,” he supplied.

“Cool name. I’m Dean.” 

“Nice to meet you, Dean.” Having been occupied all week with moving in and subsequently starved for conversation, he added, “You’re one of the first people I’ve met so far. The other being a cashier at that grocery store down the street.”

“Still getting settled in?”

“Yes. It’s taking much longer than I anticipated. I hate unpacking. It never seems to end.”

“Yeah, moving’s a bitch. You liking the place so far, though?”

Castiel nodded. “I do. Much improved from the apartment where I was living before.”

“God, I bet. I share an apartment with my brother—don’t get me wrong, I like living with him, but our landlord’s an asshole.” He gestured to the right. “Garden’s looking great.”

“Thank you. I just bought petunias, but I haven’t had a chance to plant them.” He pointed at the small brown box Dean was still holding. “That should be new gardening gloves in there.”

“Oh, right, your package.” Dean’s face looked a little red as he handed the box over. “Um, well, I should be on my way. See ya.” He stepped off the porch with a wave and Castiel waved back before going inside. 

As he unpacked his belongings, he realized filling a house was harder than he’d thought. There were so many household items he was missing. Perhaps a trip to the store would be faster, but ordering online was easier—or so he told himself as he opened his laptop.  

I’m only trying to save myself time, he reasoned, though inwardly he might have been hoping Dean would deliver the package. 

Though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he found himself growing more impatient over the next few days. Then, one afternoon as he organized his silverware drawer, he heard the doorbell ring. He practically ran to the front door, then paused and steadied himself before opening it, waiting a few seconds so it wouldn’t seem like he’d rushed over.  

It might not even be Dean, he chastised himself as he unlocked the door. 

Dean smiled at him when he swung the door wide.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, trying to sound casual and hide his smile.

“Hi.” He looked to be about Castiel’s age. What were the chances that someone this attractive was single? “Got another package. A heavy one this time.” 

Pushing away those thoughts, Castiel took it from him and placed it inside on the floor. “Thank you. Don’t I have to sign something?”

“Uh, shit, yeah.” Dean handed over the clipboard and pen, and as Castiel signed, he nodded at the package. “Something else for the garden?”

Castiel shook his head, handing back the clipboard. “A mixer. I thought maybe I could try my hand at baking. My mom sent me a few of her recipes.”

Dean’s eyes brightened. “You ever want inspiration, there’s a diner, other side of town, a few blocks from where I live, that makes the best pie. Makes them fresh every morning.”

“I’ll have to go sometime.” He stopped short of saying that maybe he’d see Dean there, not wanting to sound too excited at the prospect.

Maybe I should order more things for the kitchen, he thought, shutting the door after saying goodbye to Dean. Or a new bath mat, and curtains, maybe. The boxes he had yet to unpack scolded him by their presence, but he ignored them. If receiving new items meant talking to a friendly face, who could blame him? 

***

“You sure get a lot of packages,” Dean remarked the next week when Castiel opened the door. 

Castiel reddened. “Turns out it’s hard to fill a whole house.” 

“I’m not complaining, you’re the one giving me a job to do.” Dean handed over the package. “What’s it this week?”

“A watering can.”

“You really like to garden, don’t you?” Dean gestured to the flowers and plants lining the front of the house. “I mean, you’ve added a lot since moving in.”

“Yes, well, I find it’s a wonderful way to wind down after work.”

Dean nodded. “I get that. Any spare time I have, I work on my car.”

Castiel glanced at the UPS truck, because he hadn’t really considered Dean driving anything else. His heart beat a little faster at the thought of running into Dean somewhere else, at the diner, at the grocery store. He wondered how Dean dressed when he wasn’t in his uniform, what else he did in his free time.

Dean followed his gaze to the street and gestured to the UPS truck. “This thing, it’s crap. No AC, no radio. What do you drive?” He glanced at Castiel’s driveway. “That a Lincoln Continental? 78? 77?”

Castiel caught the derisive tone in his voice. “78. And I like it,” he added defensively.

Dean smiled, raising his hands. “Eye of the beholder, I guess. You ever need work done on it, let me know, I can help.” His eyes widened a little at his own words. “I mean, you don’t need to, I just meant, if you want. I’m good at that stuff.”

“Thank you, Dean. I appreciate the offer.” Inwardly, he cursed his car for being so reliable. Maybe the engine light would turn on and he could take him up on his offer. Or maybe Dean was only being friendly and didn’t really mean it. 

When Dean headed back to his truck and Castiel shut the door, he realized Dean hadn’t asked him to sign anything. Maybe he’d only forgotten. 

***

“Gotten acquainted with the locals?” Gabriel asked a few nights later when he called to see how Castiel was settling in.

“I talked with one of my neighbors yesterday. Arla. She’s eighty-two and owns three cats.” Leaning against the kitchen counter, Castiel glanced at the mixer. “And, uh, I did meet someone else. Someone my age, not a neighbor. Dean.”

“Met someone? Like went on a date with—”

“No, he works for the UPS, he’s been delivering my packages.” He was interrupted by Gabriel laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“So instead of going out and meeting real people, you’re making friends with the delivery guy.”

“Dean is real,” Castiel protested. “He’s very kind and friendly. And helpful. He’s told me about places to check out in town and complimented my garden—”

“Damn, Cas, sounds like you really like this guy.”

“No, he’s just a nice person,” Castiel insisted. By Gabriel’s laughter, he knew he wasn’t being believable. “Alright, fine. I enjoy talking to him.” He wasn’t going to tell Gabriel that seeing Dean was becoming his favorite part of the week.

“He single?”

“Um. Yes.” He may or may not have asked Arla if she knew Dean, and may or may not have learned that she couldn’t believe “a charming young man like him is still single.” Oh, and that if she were a younger woman, she would be ordering packages left and right to flirt with him when he delivered. Castiel did not appreciate that last part, even if Arla had no idea how close to the truth she’d struck. I’m not flirting, he argued inwardly.

“Well, are you going to make a move or not?” When Castiel didn’t respond right away, Gabriel added, “Right, I forgot who I’m talking to.”

“I might,” Castiel protested. “But we only just met. And I don’t even know if he likes me. He’s only doing his job.”

“May as well ask him out, see what he says.” 

Castiel sighed. “I don’t want to rush into anything. I only just moved here.”

“Well, you snooze, you lose, Cas. Don’t miss out on something just because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!”

I’m not scared, he repeated to himself when he said goodbye and hung up the phone. He was being reasonable. But maybe Gabriel was right. Dean had to be somewhat interested—delivery guys didn’t just stick around to talk after delivering a package. Maybe he’d test the waters, try to see if Dean was truly interested or just being friendly.

***

A few days later, he was watering his petunias when Dean got out of his truck with another package.

“Hey, Cas!” he called. 

“Hello, Dean.” Setting down his water can, he wiped his hands on his jeans. “Thank you,” he said, taking the narrow box from Dean. Before he lost his courage, he spoke up, “I, um, made a pie this morning.” Whether he’d made it specifically to offer to Dean was something he’d never admit to anyone, much less himself. “I was wondering if you wanted a slice? You can tell me if it’s good or not.”

Dean broke into a grin. “Shit, Cas, really? Yeah, thanks.”

“Wait here, I’ll grab it.”

When he returned to the doorway with a paper plate covered in foil, he caught Dean looking inside his house. 

“It’s still a mess in here,” Castiel said, handing the plate over. “I’ve been kinda busy with work.”

“No, yeah, totally, no judgement.” He peeled back the foil and inhaled. “Fuck, I’m starving. This looks amazing.” Picking up the slice, he took a bite. “Mmm,” he said, rolling his eyes back. 

“Good?” Castiel asked, amused. 

“So good,” Dean said, his voice muffled. He swallowed. “You’re a natural.” 

“Thank you. I have more, if you’d like it.”

“Don’t tempt me. Yes.” 

Grinning, Castiel went back inside and packaged up two more slices, brought them to Dean.

“You’re an angel,” Dean said. “Seriously.” He juggled the plates in his hands. “So, where do you work?”

Castiel leaned on the doorway. “I work here. I’m an editor. I do freelance work.”

“Dude, that’s cool. Nice that you get to work from home.” Looking down at his watch, he swore quietly. “Sorry, I need to keep moving. I’ve got a lot of deliveries today.” 

“Oh,” Castiel said, disappointed, straightening. “Alright. Sorry for keeping you so long.”

“No problem, this was a nice break.” He stepped off the walkway. “Thanks for the pie.”

“You’re welcome.” Ask him for his number. Ask him if he would like to go out. But he kept quiet and watched Dean cross the yard back to his truck. 

***

That night, Castiel ordered a set of bookends shaped like trees. He checked his email the next few days, tracking the package. On the day it was to be delivered, he had to run errands and got stuck in traffic. When he pulled into his driveway, he saw a package sitting on the front porch. Shit. He’d missed Dean. 

Grabbing his bag of groceries, he walked over and picked up the package with his free hand. Then he noticed a note taped to the top. 

Sorry I missed you, it read. The pie was incredible.

Castiel smiled. 

***

Sunlight streamed through his living room windows as Castiel organized his books on his bookshelves. He was just pushing his new bookends into place when the doorbell rang. Frowning, he went to the front door and looked out through the window. Dean?

“Hello, Dean,” he said, opening the door. “I wasn’t expecting a package today.” 

“Oh, really?” Dean looked like he was fighting back a smile as he turned around the cardboard box in his hands. Bold black letters were written across the front: SAY HI TO DEAN FOR ME.

Castiel’s eyes widened and he snatched the box out of Dean’s hands. “What? I don’t know how—” He scanned the box for the label. Gabriel, he realized. “It’s my brother,” he explained. “I was telling him about you, he must’ve sent me this to embarrass me, I’m so sorry.”

Dean’s smile won out. “No, it’s fine, that’s kinda hilarious.” He shifted his stance, the wooden porch boards creaking. “You, uh, you told him about me?”

Castiel’s head snapped up from glaring at Gabe’s name on the return label. “Um, yes,” he faltered. “Well, I was just telling him that I met someone, and it’s been nice to, uh, uh, have a friend.” 

Friend? He hardly knew Dean, for fuck’s sake. For all he knew, he was just a random person Dean spoke to occasionally on his route, no more important than Arla or any of the other people he delivered to.

But Dean smiled. “Yeah, uh, me too. I mean, I like meeting people on my route, just makes the day a lot better when I get to stop and talk.” He reddened a little and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at his boots.

“I hope I don’t keep you from your other deliveries,” Castiel said.

Dean waved his hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I get the other ones done fast so I can spend more time here.” He cut himself off and reddened even further, as if realizing what he was admitting. 

So, Dean was deliberately trying to see him, talk to him. Castiel felt his face heat up as well. “I’m sure delivering packages all day can be very boring,” he offered. 

Dean nodded quickly. “Yeah, ya know, it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Besides, I’m just trying to make sure this neighborhood’s newest resident is doing okay.” He grinned. “Think of me as the welcome committee.”

“Well, I appreciate it. Really.”

Dean nodded again, and they stood there awkwardly for a few long moments. Castiel glanced back down at the box, Gabe’s words ringing in his head. Ask him out, see what he says.

“I’ll get on my way,” Dean said, stepping back. He smiled a little. “Tell your brother I said hi.”

“I will.” Maybe he should just blurt it out. Dean had said he enjoyed stopping by here. But maybe he only meant that in a friendly way. Castiel had called him a friend, after all. He chickened out. “Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.” Dean walked away and Castiel glared down at the box. 

“Not helpful,” he told it.

***

“Gabe, I hate you.”

“What? I was just trying to spark conversation between you two—”

“I hate you. I can hold a conversation well enough myself, thank you very much. You only made things awkward.” He paused before adding, “Dean says hi, by the way.”

Gabriel cheered and Castiel pulled his phone away from his ear. “So it worked? You asked him out?”

“Um...” Castiel pulled at a rip on his gardening jeans. “No.”

“Cassie!” Gabriel whined. “I did all that work for nothing? What’s the holdup? Ask him out.”

Castiel groaned. “I will. Eventually. But, I mean, can he even say yes? He’s on the job—”

“Cas, he’s already taking time out of his workday to talk to you. Pretty sure he’ll say yes, even if he’s working. Stop making excuses.”

“Fine. I’ll ask him.” He only said it to get Gabriel off his back, but his palms grew sweaty even thinking about it. 

“You better. Keep me updated.”

“Only if you never pull a prank like that again.”

“I can’t promise anything.” 

***

Seated at his desk, Castiel frowned at an awkwardly worded sentence that refused to form itself into any coherency. Was the past tense of lie lay or laid? Why couldn’t he ever remember? 

The doorbell ringing drew his attention and, grateful for the break, he saved the document he was editing and got up. Going to the front door, he wondered if he had any left-over pie to give Dean and drag out their time together in the doorway.

Opening the door, he began to say hello, then paused. A UPS delivery man was walking away to his truck, a package at Castiel’s feet on his front porch. 

“Wait!” Castiel called, stepping outside. The man turned—not Dean. Someone he’d never seen before. “Who the hell are you?”

The man looked startled. “I, uh, I’m a delivery—”

“No, sorry.” Castiel flushed. “Where’s Dean?”

“Dean?” The man frowned. “I don’t know who that is. We all got new routes a few days ago. He must be on another route now.”

Castiel’s heart sank. “Oh.” Another route? He looked down at the package. “Don’t I have to sign something?”

“No, you’re all good. We don’t require signatures.” The man continued to his truck and Castiel picked up the package. A lattice pastry roller to make more intricate pie crusts. He’d thought Dean might appreciate the effort.

Shutting the door, he stood in the foyer for a moment. So, Dean was gone. Why hadn’t he ever asked for Dean’s number? He’d had plenty of opportunities.

It’s a small town, he reasoned. I’ll see him again, I have to. He knew Dean lived on the other side of town, maybe if he drove around there, kept an eye out—

Alright, stop, he told himself. He was starting to sound crazy. He dropped the package off on the kitchen table. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

***

The next day, Castiel was seated at his desk, sending an email to a client, when the doorbell rang. 

His pulse sped up, and instinctively he rose from his chair. Then he remembered that Dean didn’t deliver to his house anymore. Sighing, he sat back down. 

He’d been trying not to think of it, but every other item in his house—the mixer, the bookends, the pastry roller—only reminded him of Dean and brought down his mood. 

Why didn’t I take Gabe’s advice? he bemoaned inwardly. That was a thought he never thought he’d have, but it looked like Gabe had been right. He’d lost his chance.  

Staring at his computer screen, he tried to focus on his work, but the distraction had ruined his focus. At least I’ll save money, he reasoned ruefully, now that he had no excuse for making random purchases. 

The doorbell rang again and he lifted his head, frowning. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember ordering anything. Maybe it was Arla, coming over to say hello.  

Rising, he went to the front door and tried to remember the name of that diner Dean had told him about. Maybe he’d stake out there on a weekend, see if Dean showed up. Or was that creepy?

Definitely creepy, he decided with a sigh, opening the door. Then he froze.

“Dean?”

Standing on his front porch—this time in jeans and a black t-shirt, holding a potted fern—was Dean. He smiled hesitantly, almost nervously. “Hi, Cas.” 

“What are you doing here?” Castiel looked at the street, but of course the familiar UPS truck wasn’t there. In its place was a sleek, black car. 

“My route changed and I, uh, never got to say bye. So I thought I’d just come over. Sorry if that’s weird—”

“No, I’m happy to see you. Just surprised. I thought I’d never…”

Dean grinned. “Scared you’d lost me forever?”

Castiel smiled. “Yeah, a bit,” he admitted. 

“I, um, I brought you this.” He held out the plant, laughed nervously. “I felt weird coming over without anything to deliver.”

“Thank you. It’s lovely.” Taking the plant, he stroked the leaves. “I know exactly where to put it.” His heart pounded as he realized now was his chance. He had to take it.

He started to ask for Dean’s number, but Dean started talking too, and they both stopped, laughing. “You first,” Castiel said. 

“Um, well.” Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was thinking, would you maybe want to hang out somewhere other than your doorway? I can show you around town.” He gestured to his car. “Take you for a spin in Baby.”

Castiel couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “I would love that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve been… I’ve been meaning to ask you out, or ask for your number. I just never worked up the courage.”

Dean grinned. “Am I really that intimidating?”

Castiel laughed. “No. Not at all. You’re quite the opposite.” He gestured inside. “Would you, uh, would you like to come inside?”

“Yeah, totally.” 

Castiel started to open the door wider, then paused. “I have a question. You never did need my signature, did you? For the packages?”

Dean frowned, then realization seemed to hit him and his face reddened. “Yeah, uh. No. But I figured it was a surefire way to get your name and talk to you.”

“Is that a trick you use often?”

“Nope, you were the first.” He grinned, eyes suddenly teasing. "Did you really need everything you were ordering, or were all the packages just an excuse to see me?"

Now was Castiel's time to blush. "I did need what I ordered!" he protested. "Well, some things. But mainly... I just wanted to talk to you."

“Well, it worked.”

“Yes.” He stepped back for Dean to come inside his home and smiled at him. “And I’m very glad it did."

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[matchasprouts]

The Walls - Chapter 3

[ couldn't write for a while but [ hands you a glimpse into Felix's gay brain ] come and get your juice ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

It took a while after getting upstairs for Felix to grab everything he needed (literally just the clothes he was going to change into, he was just easily distracted), but finally he was in the bathroom.

He didn’t shower in the mansion bathroom very often, since he lived in the cabin on the property, so he was immediately worried about the thing in the walls.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check.

Slowly, he made his way over to the most uncluttered wall that would have the crawl space attached to it. He knew it wasn’t omniscient, so if it were far enough away, it wouldn’t hear him. Hopefully it would be attached enough to Greta that it would be downstairs.

He paused for a moment, let out a breath, and lightly knocked three times on the wall. Three knocks was a greeting, or a goodbye between them. The thing usually only took a few seconds to respond.

…

Silence. Felix let out a sigh of relief, making his way over to the shower and turning it on. It was an old shower, but comfortable. He really did enjoy any chance he could use it without worry.

After a few seconds of making sure the water was at the right temperature, he started getting undressed. The overalls were off first, followed by the sweater he wore in the colder seasons. And then there was his binder.

He used to struggle a lot more with taking it off when he first started wearing it, but now he pulled it over his head without a fight. He draped it over the sink, away from his dirtied clothes, since he only really washed it when he absolutely needed to.

The water was almost scalding when Felix stepped into it, but that was on purpose. He’d basically shot his nerves when it came to hot water, barely feeling it if it wasn’t hot enough to leave marks on his skin.

He’d been told multiple times to go to therapy because of this. He assumed his nerves were so fucked because of the arson. Who fucking knows, he refused to go to a doctor.

The shower didn’t last very long, Felix just took as long as he needed to get the dirt off him and be done. The longest part was his hair, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he’d even gotten all the soap out of his hair by the time he stepped out of the shower.

It was while he was drying off his hair that he noticed the change in the room. Next to the t-shirt and sweatpants he’d laid out to change into sat a dark green, and very large, cardigan.

Felix knew for a damn fact that he hadn’t put that there. He didn’t even own cardigans- just an assload of sweaters. So where did this come from? It was too large to belong to Greta, too tattered too.

After a few seconds, it clicked. It belonged to the thing in the walls. The thing that always heard him complaining about the cold, or how it was hard to hide when he wasn’t wearing a binder.

And, it seemed, it finally did something about it.

Theoretically, he enjoyed the gesture. He was definitely going to wear it, the warmth was worth it, but still… this meant that it had come in while he was showering, and he hadn’t heard it. That didn’t imply good things.

He got dressed quickly, pausing before pulling on the cardigan. It was huge on him, even though he was average height and pretty well built. It smelled like wood, and smoke. It was… incredibly comfortable too.

After quickly glancing in the mirror, the green of the cardigan making the green of his eyes really pop. It probably helped that he was extra pale from the blast of hot water, bringing his freckles out as well.

He didn’t look too long. Felix didn’t like his face, and staring at it would make him shut down.

---

Greta had already started on dinner when he made it to the kitchen, and he was pleased to find Brahms sitting at the kitchen table.

“Hey. Sorry if you’ve been waiting long,” he said, rolling up the cardigan sleeves and jumping right into helping. She was making a soup apparently, probably because they didn’t have much at the moment. Malcolm was supposed to deliver some groceries tomorrow.

“Don’t worry about it,” Greta replied, handing him a knife and some vegetables to cut. He didn’t hesitate before getting into it, making quick work of them. “I hope soup is okay. We really need groceries.”

Felix hummed in response, keeping most of his focus on what he was doing. “Soup is always good, I’m just glad we could make something at all.”

Silence fell after that. They weren’t friends, they really didn’t have all that much to talk about. So they worked. At least it made the cooking go faster.

---

“So, where’d this come from?” Greta asked after they were finished and sitting down to eat, gesturing to the cardigan. He was surprised she could tell that it wasn’t his, especially because she knew next to nothing about him. Maybe it was because it was so big, or because of it being a dark colour.

Felix shrugged at the question, not willing to scare her off when Brahms clearly liked her. “It just kind of showed up. I’ve probably had it for years without realizing it. I can be forgetful like that sometimes.” No, he couldn’t. Distractible? Sure. Forgetful? Unfortunately, his memory was near photographic.

But Greta accepted it without question, just like he thought she would. It seemed like she was doing everything she possibly could to not question anything about this house. He vaguely wondered if she had seen Brahms move yet, but he doubted it.

When they were finished, it was Brahms’s bedtime. After making Greta promise she would follow the bedtime rules properly, he let her go to put the doll to bed, cleaning up the kitchen for her.

He heard rustling in the walls as Greta headed upstairs and smiled slightly to himself, knowing that the wall thing was making sure that she followed the rules.

The thought made him pull the cardigan tighter against himself, surprised at his own fondness toward the thing. Six years was a long time to grow attached to something, and he was honestly fine with being attached to it. After all, he never truly interacted with it. It probably wouldn’t hurt him.

Probably.

He shook those thoughts away, finished cleaning, and headed upstairs for bed. Greta’s door was already closed, Brahms was in bed, and the walls were quiet. Felix inspected his temporary bedroom once arriving at it, only laying down when he was satisfied that it was empty.

For once, sleep came easy.

---

The next morning, Felix woke up before Greta, and about an hour before Brahms needed to be woken up. Happy for the chance to get something done without Greta in the way, or needing to look out for Brahms, he wasted no time in getting up and dressed. He laid the cardigan out neatly on his bed for the thing to take back, making sure to close the door when he left the room.

Once downstairs he did some cleaning to take a bit of the workload off of Greta. Before heading out to do his gardening, he paused, glancing around the kitchen. They really needed that grocery delivery today, but he figured he could make breakfast before becoming the garden cryptid again.

So, he made something simple and wouldn’t need to be warm, put it in the fridge, and left a note for Greta. Once satisfied, he grabbed his gloves and headed outside. He’d probably come back in when Malcolm got there, just because there was something he’d need for later that he needed to ask him to grab.

It was time for Brahms to be woken up by the time Felix had started his gardening, a small smile crossing his lips when he looked up at the window and saw the light click on, followed by Greta opening up the curtains.

Well, maybe she was finally taking him seriously. He hoped so. He would sure hate to hate someone like her. She was nice and all, and really the only off thing that she’d done so far was not take care of Brahms right.

How unfortunate that that would change.

Felix happened to walk in during a conversation between Greta and Malcolm, relieved he hadn’t missed the man. He only caught part of the conversation, something about going out tonight. He didn’t hear Greta’s response, so he wasn’t annoyed yet, but it was getting there.

“Hey Malcolm,” he said as he grabbed a bottle of water, taking a sip before continuing, “could you grab something for me next time you go out? Nothing time sensitive or anything, it would just make my life a little easier.

Malcolm, sensing the change in conversation, replied without hesitation. “Sure man, what do you need?”

“A new pair of garden gloves, mine are falling apart. I’d get them myself but I don’t have a car and you know I don’t like leaving the grounds.” Felix was a little surprised when Malcolm nodded and wrote it down, but relieved. He really did need those gloves.

“I can grab ‘em for you today, I’ll be coming back tonight anyway,” Malcolm said as he tucked the small notepad back into his jacket. Felix immediately narrowed his eyes at him, his expression asking the “why” that he didn’t vocalize.

That’s when Greta cleared her throat and stepped in. “Malcolm offered to take me out to see the town tonight, and I accepted,” she explained, cringing at the harsh glare Felix sent her way. Before he could say anything, she continued, “Brahms will already be in bed by the time I leave! So there’s nothing to worry about.”

Nothing to worry about? She was breaking the rules! And it would know!! It was significantly more dangerous than Felix was!!!

He let out a sigh that bordered dangerously on a growl, before running a hand through his short hair and deciding that this was a battle he shouldn’t fight. “Whatever. Don’t say shit to me when something bad happens because you chose to break the rules.”

“Oh, come on man, she shouldn’t be cooped up in here-” Malcolm tried to step in, only to be cut off by Felix’s shears hitting the table hard enough that it shook.

“Don’t try to tell me what should or should not be happening here!” he snapped, the rage bubbling over before he could stop it. It was his fatal flaw- shortest temper in the Shaw family. “All I know is that she’s breaking the damn rules, and we’re all gonna get hell because of it!”

He hated arguing. He did. So, with that, before they could continue, he stormed off. Before he knew it, he had slammed his bedroom door and fallen heavily onto his bed. It took a godly amount of self control to not break anything, but he managed.

This was slowly but surely turning into a fucking nightmare.

[honeypirate]

Don’t Forget pt two

Aizawa x reader 

Part one here

Part three here

warning- none I think haha

You get moved in and settled pretty quickly, the teachers and students now lived in dorms which you thought was really cool. Everything was different since you last saw it and you were filled with an overwhelming nostalgia and excitement being back.

 You couldn’t help but wonder about the boys you used to be friends with, you fell out of contact after a little while, the time change being extremely hard since your family moved to America, you didn’t google him, you didn’t google anyone, you thought it would hurt too much to know anything. You hoped he was happy, but avoided thinking about him, the thought of him having a family gave you acid reflux so you avoided it. 

The teacher apartments were furnished but you had a few things delivered from your last apartment that would make the place feel more like home, mostly decorations like fairy lights, tapestries, and pillows, but you also brought a frame of a picture of you, Hizashi, Oboro, and Aizawa at a sports festival. A picture you kept on your dresser the last 12 years and since you were back here it felt right to keep it that way. Once you unpack all of your things and hang up all of your clothes you decide to run to the grocery store and walk around the city you grew up in. 

The first place you went was the home you used to live in. You stand across the street as you look at the house, it has a new roof and has been repainted, it’s now dark green instead of the white you used to know. You take a picture of it and text it to your mom, you don’t expect her to reply yet, she’s probably asleep by now with the 14 hour time difference on the east coast. You smile at the nostalgia you feel in your heart before turning back and heading to the store near the school, walking down the paths you used to take before, smiling the whole time. 

You get about a week of groceries, enough to carry home and have it not be too much, but you couldn’t resist when you saw the watermelon… which led you to struggle carrying your bags and a melon the half a mile back to the school. Of course it was hard but you mostly found it amusing, your quiet giggles making the people you passed look at you funny. All except one, who knew exactly who you were the moment he saw you, this wasn’t the first time he saw you struggle carrying a watermelon. 

“Is that.. MYYYY ~ YYY////NNNN BUUGGG~???” the people around you groan and quickly run away from the loudness of Hizashi’s voice, everyone but you, your eyes popped up to find him, his signature yellow hair was longer but he still styled it the same, he had new glasses though, and a mustache?! “YAMS!” you shout back and his laugh fills your ears as he runs towards you, his arms out to hug you.

“Woah woah YAMS!! BE CAREFUL!  MY MELON” you shout as he just laughs loudly, hugging you and lifting you up, your bags falling to the ground and your melon cracking in two as it hits the sidewalk. “Damn it Yamada!” you yell, his voice is singsongy as he responds in between his laughs “OH COME ON Y/N YOUR HANDS ARE FREEE NOWWWW so ~HUG~ME~BACK!~”  your arms snake around him as you laugh, your ears already ringing and the people steering clear around you. 

“Yams how have you been?” you say when he finally frees you, your hand reaching up to cup his face, “you’re so old now” you say with a chuckle as your thumb brushes against his mustache, he pushes your hand away and scoffs “come on Bug, we’re the same age” you laugh “I know! I’m old too!” you both laugh and he helps you pick up your groceries “I’ll bring you another melon later, I was headed to the store now myself.” he smiles and you chuckle “thank you, I would appreciate it. You know how I feel about melons” he nods with a laugh “I would never forget! So what are you doing back?” you stomp your feet in excitement “Nezu told me to keep it a secret until the meeting tomorrow but..” “YOU’RE THE NEW TEACHER?!”  You nod while looking at him and he just about loses his shit in excitement “THIS IS AMAZING! SHOUTA IS GOING TO DIE”  your eyes widen and he nods at you, reading your mind “HE’S A TEACHER TOO! CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS!” you laugh in shock and then his eyes light up in a way you are all too familiar with.

With heavy convincing on Hizashi’s part, you reluctantly promised to wait until tomorrow to surprise Aizawa that you are the new teacher, which made you about a billion times more nervous. You get back to the teachers quarters, walking into the building you were now nervous to accidentally run into him, you look around before making your way to the elevator, you peak your head out the elevator door before exiting and then quietly walk down to your apartment, but before you get there, the name outside the door across the hall from yours catches your eye ‘Shouta Aizawa’ 

“Fuuuckkk!” you say as your eyes look over to your door, scrambling to slide your name off the metal holder. You quickly try to unlock your door after you hear movement behind his,the sound of your bags rustling sounding so loud in your ears before your door opens and you slip inside accidentally slamming the door behind you. You collapse against it, your heart beat loud in your ears and against your ribs as you slide to the floor, your bags hitting the ground as you let go of the handles, taking a moment to breathe and calm your racing heart. If he was anything like you remember, he wouldn’t come to say anything, he would be meeting the new teacher tomorrow and he would probably not want to bother since it was unnecessary, you just hoped he didn’t see the name card.

When you heard his door open you held your breath until you heard his footsteps retreat down the hall. God, waiting until tomorrow was going to take everything. ..

..

..

...And as you realized after noticing you kept listening to see when he got back, you didn’t have it in you to wait. After 11pm  you realized he might not come back for a while, so you decided to do something, still keeping your promise to Hizashi, you snuck out your door, looking down the hallway, before you took the step across the way and put a sticky note on his door that just said “surprise :)”  before heading back into your apartment and heading to bed, where you will hopefully convince yourself to sleep before the big day. 

“Surprise? What the hell does that mean?” his eyes flick to your door, he'd knock if it wasn’t 2am. The only place it could have come from was the new teacher.  You pop into his mind but he shakes his head, no it couldn’t be you. He heard that the new teacher was a man, Hizashi said he met him at the store. He sighs, taking the note off his door and heading inside. Already grumpy about all the sleep he has missed out on.

Taglist~ @spicy-therapist-mom 

[actorfrustration]

Damned If I Do Ya

Title: Damned If I Do Ya Chapter: One-Shot Pairing: Pedro/OC Rating: M Fic Summary: Elaine is Pedro’s neighbor. They meet when he accidentally gets her food order.

[A/N - Written with @rav3n-pascal22​. Yes the title is taken from an All Time Low song because I was struggling with a title and I was listening to them yesterday.]

Somewhere in New York, there’s a little suburban neighborhood. It’s relatively quiet aside for the block parties and barbecues.

My names Elaine and I live in the last house on the street. 22 and still living in the same house I grew up in. Sad right?

My life was easy. It’s alright, except I have the place to myself all the time. I don’t mind it as much anymore though.

As for my creators, their overworked zombies who don’t have much free time nowadays. I’ve gotten used to being alone. I almost prefer it now. I do chores whenever the mood strikes me.

Luckily my parents wire me money for food and groceries, but I wouldn’t need it anyway. I’m a Twitch streamer, so I make a fair amount of money from that. I don’t do much. I just mostly play video games in a pair of sweatpants and a sports bra.

Some days I just get on and talk to my friends. “Yeah, I still have the place to myself. Life is good,” I said, responding to the chat on my computer. You could practically feel the sarcasm in my tone.

My phone dinged, Uber Eats notifying me that my food had been delivered. I had been craving a chicken sandwich from Chipotle. I know that’s the most millennial thing ever, but hey, it’s good.

I got up and put on a hoodie before checking the door, but no one was there. I grabbed my phone and checked the app again. “Huh, this thing must be having issues. It says it’s here, but it’s not.”

I shut the door and was about to leave a review when there was a knock. I threw open the door and saw an older man standing there holding my order.

He was pretty attractive with chocolate brown eyes, slightly curly hair, and tanned skin. He had a nice mustache, a patchy beard, and naturally pouty lips.

“It’s about time. I was about leave a bad review on your page.”

“Umm, I’m your neighbor.”

I blushed in embarrassment. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry.”

The man laughed. “It’s okay.” He walked in without me inviting him in. Normally I would’ve been freaked out, but he seemed nice enough.

He set my food on the kitchen table and looked around. When he turned back to me, he smiled and said, “I’m Pedro.”

“Elaine.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you at home alone? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

I put my hands on my hips. “I’m 22 for your information.”

Pedro threw his hands up in surrender. “I meant no offense. Are you home alone a lot? I don’t see cars in the driveway very often.”

“My parents are workaholics. I think they just spend the nights in their offices.”

“I’m sorry. You must be very lonely.”

I shrugged. “I have my friends.” I pointed to my TV where he could the chat. “I stream nearly every day, so there’s always someone online.”

“I should let you eat. But if you ever need anything, I’m only a few doors down.”

“Thank you, Pedro. That means a lot.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I was streaming a few days later when a new username popped up that I didn’t recognize. P-rascal45. I was used to random people dropping into my chat, but this one was different. They didn’t have a profile picture, so I had no idea what they looked like or how old they were.

P-rascal45: God, you’re gorgeous baby girl.

XxMinxyxX: Thank you.

P-rascal45: A body like yours deserves to be worshipped.

XxMinxyxX: Oh yeah?

I felt a little naughty doing this in my chat where everyone could see, but maybe if I encouraged it I would get more tips. I knew of some streamers that did naughty things to get more money while still posting their usual content.

XxMinxyxX: And what would you do to me?

P-rascal45: First, I’d take off that tight little bra of yours and suck on those pretty nipples until they’re hard and throbbing in pain.

I bit my lip and tried to contain the whimper building in the back of my throat. Heat was pooling between my legs. I’d never been this turned on in my life.

P-rascal45: Then I’d peel off those leggings of yours and wrap your legs around my waist. My hand would wrap around your throat cutting off the whimpers and moans that would be leaving your mouth. I wouldn’t even have to eat you out, because you’d be dripping already. Just like you are right now, aren’t you princess?

I couldn’t take it anymore. I logged off my stream without apologizing, trying to catch my breath. But the longer I sat there, the more brown eyes and pouty lips invaded my thoughts.

Could it have been him? How in the hell did he find me in the first place? He must have seen my username and found me that way.

I grabbed my phone and pulled up my Uber Eats app. I would be ordering a lot more in hopes it would get delivered to him on accident.

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.9

TW Purposeful misgendering of MC, and overall skeevy first POV.

MC is agender and here I started this chapter with the POV of someone out right misgendering them.

Capital He/Him pronouns are associated with Slender.

He was angry, but then again when wasn't He. You've wasted too much time on “laying low”. And now He's getting impatient, you're starting to hear whispers about potential replacements and incompetency. First you fuck up your mission then you gave Him the subpar sacrifice of that dumb hippie. He didn't want her, He wanted her. Her being your current and original target.

The girl who moved to town in the middle of March, YN. Didn't wait for the month to end or come the first week of the new one. Such a strange time to move...almost as if she was running away from something. He had taken an interest in her immediately. You didn't see what was so special about her, just another mousy girl in a small town, very obedient from what you saw.

Maybe that's what caught His attention. A new little puppet to add to His collection...but His urgency with this task didn't really fit. You knew for a fact He wasn't human but...could He have desires of the flesh? Was this a twisted perversion of your god's? The fuzzy feeling in your head gets painful at the thought.

'Ok, you aren't after some ass.' you think trying to appease Him.

It doesn't work, your apology is almost as worthless as you are to Him in this moment. You've really been testing Him lately, understandably this is your last chance so to speak. Bring Him YN or you won't be His problem much longer.

A chill runs down your spine at the ill intent you feel through your contract.

You're working on it, really you are. But she's so stupid and air headed it will take a while to break her for Him to be able to properly mold her. Not to mention she seems to have acquired a new guard dog. One that seems to have problems staying still, yet will spend hours watching her.

You'd seen him around town a few times in the past week or two, he has two other companions who aren't as bad about keeping low profiles. Yeah, you'd seen each of them at her house at one point or another. The short one seemed to have a nasty habit of slinking into her home in the dead of night as she slept. He didn't seem to go in during her drives, only when she'd be there. The tall one would come in the early morning or middle of the day, either to retrieve his partner or to snoop around inside for a bit before leaving. Aside from his partner he never seemed to leave with anything, never went in with anything either. They weren't leaving traces so they couldn't be your replacements.

Even if they had been they didn't seem too tough, you could over take them easy. Show Him you were still good for something.

But worst of all was her fucking mutt. He'd just circle the outside of the house, inspecting it. For what you have no clue, but he kept at it like he had a keen eye and could detect the slightest change of the home. One day he started looking off into the tree line and you'd almost swear he knew where you were. And while his nearly all black eyes made you think he was your replacement, intimidating you, your god suggested otherwise.

Reminding you that they weren't breaking her down for Him. That was your job.

Not only was the twink annoyingly thorough when at her home but he seems to have followed her to work today. You hope this isn't a new habit for him, you'll need to catch YN off guard at some point and you can't do that with that stupid twitching bastard around.

He bought two books and YN had seemed surprised when he came up to chat with her after finishing the first one. She's not your normal type but you can't deny she is cute talking so excitedly, you really wish that fucking mask was off her face so you could see her plump lips move. Come to think of it, twitchy was also wearing a mask. Is that why she talks so freely with him? Was all you had to do to get close to her was wear a mask? Or did she have a little crush on this guy?

No, she's speaking the same way she would with one of the Hornets. He however has a certain look in his eye while they talk. Maybe someone does have a crush...Or maybe he's just a disgusting stalker like you are. Were, like you were that is before your god saw the potential in you. And blessed you as one of his followers.

If he is a creepy little stalker tailing her you could let him do the breaking, and then you'd swoop in for the kill. Would that take too long? Better yet would your god even be happy with the idea. He can get very touchy about plans, down to the tiniest details too. You've witnessed first hand what He does to those who leave gaps for targets to get through.

Reprogramming doesn't seem pleasant. But that'll be the least of your worries if you don't get a move on with delivering Him His choice of offering. In the years you've been of service to your god...you don't recall Him ever choosing his offering. A target yes of course plenty, but His next puppet or a special meal. No this was big, testing your worth probably, very big.

'And you're failing.' that voice isn't yours.

'How, astute.' He's chatty today. That's always a bad thing. For you anyway.

You turn your attention to the bookshop across the street, coffee shops make such great covers especially when you add a laptop and act as though you're writing a novel, no one spares you a glance. It's five and that means quitting time, maybe YN wouldn't go home right away. You could run into her and plant some seeds of paranoia in her.

Mess with her head, have her freak out and cause a scene in town to discredit her further in the future. Your typical MO. After all she is just the simple new girl in town, and small town residents don't trust easy.

'This should be fun.' you think as you pack up your computer and notebook.

Heading to your car you wait in the parking lot for a moment, making it look as though you were busy with your phone while you waited to see that ugly yellow car drive in one direction or another. It doesn't take long before you catch sight of the brightly colored Kia taking the road towards the general store.

Wonderful, one humiliating panic attack in public coming up. This was something you could manage perfectly on your own. Though maybe once your god was more pleased with you, you'd ask for His assistance in giving her a few more hallucinations. After all the faster she's broken down the faster He gets what He wants.

Once at the small store you park one space away from her Kia. Normally for targets you prefer if they don't notice your car but it's not like there's room to go else where in this parking lot. Just as you're about to make your way inside, you hear more murmuring.

How the hell are you supposed to do His bidding when all He seems to want to do is keep interfering? It's getting so frustrating that you're starting to question your god's intelligence.

For your insolence you are hit hard with the worst migraine you've ever gotten since taking up a contract with Him.

'You are not the only one following them.' is the biting retort.

Moving your head despite the pain, you scan the store through squinted eyelids as you stand just out of your car. And you catch sight of him, that twitching guard dog from before. He hasn't noticed you but he seems to be sharing a cart with YN.

Did she get a boyfriend? Were you just unaware of that detail this entire time? She seems too relaxed with him for that to be anything else. They look too domestic together, you'll have fun ripping them apart. She'll probably cry like the bitch she is when you do, that's a very nice picture.

'Leave.' what now?

'Leave before he catches on to you.' The twitchy twink? You could take him in a fight, kid is practically all bones, why should you leave?

Instead of an answer your migraine intensifies. For the first time in years you are racked with so much pain that you would've collapsed on the ground if your car hadn't been near to steady yourself.

A chime of a bell sounds, “Hey pal you alright there?”, it's just Leo. Luckily you've never shopped at his store so likely hood of him knowing who you are or mentioning this to anyone isn't high.

“Ah...yeah,” you say through the wincing, “real bad migraine.”

“I got some Excedrin-”

“I'll just come back later.” you cut him off and get back into your car. Movement isn't easy for you under all this pain but you can feel His presence in your mind gaining control. You'll either wake up back in your bed or on the forest floor covered in blood and ticks. You really hope it isn't the last one as you black out just as you turn onto 3rd Avenue.

Leo comes back into the store almost as soon as he ran out.

“Everything ok?” you ask. You'd seen the man run out when you turned around to ask if he had gluten free vegetable stock.

“Yea, some tourist must'a got car sick or somethin'.” you nod at his gruff reply.

“Oh, do you have any gluten free vegetable stock?”

The old man eyes you warily.

“Kid don' tell me ya got on one a those fad diets.”

“No it's for the Picnic next week. I wanted to make an all diet friendly foragers pie.” you said shaking your head, which snaps right twice. Behind you you hear a muffled clucking coming from Toby.

Toby had hung out at the shop with you today. After he read through The Son of Neptune the two of you had discussed the series for a bit before you almost let some spoiler slip through. Toby couldn't help but laugh when you pushed him into a reading nook to finish reading the series before you ruined it for him. He got two thirds of The Mark of Athena done before you clocked out for the day.

While leaving he mentioned he needed to go shopping and asked where the grocery store in town was because he hadn't seen one in the area. You offered to take him to Leo's shop because it had everything you could need and was a small local business. Like most things in Kepler but there was a Trader Joe's that opened up in town, and they don't have much to offer when you cook from scratch. So here you were shopping together.

“I think we have organic no clue if it's vegan though.”

“Gluten free.” Leo rolls his eyes in dismissal and goes off to find the organic broth for you.

“Was there anything else you needed to grab?” you asked turning to look at Toby.

He had a list with him and had been ripping small tears to cross off what he'd gotten. He nods once then twice as his eyes find items he had yet to find, until they stop near the bottom of the list. Toby's dark brown eyes roll so hard you're pretty sure they rolled to the back of his skull. He lets out a dramatic 'agh' sound at whatever was on the list. Before crumbling it and tossing it into the cart.

“Atomic Fireballs and eggs. Can you grab the candy? Some people get pissy about their eggs.” he says cutting his eyes to the cooler containing eggs. This is probably a regular argument with the group.

With a small nod and an “mmhmm” you run off to the candy isle. You smell the cinnamon candy before you even see the container on the shelf. Before running off back to Toby and the cart, you pause debating if you should grab some M&Ms or chocolate chips to make cookies for tomorrow's movie night. You had stress eaten the snacks you bought last week only having the Surge left for Kirby, like hell you would drink it yourself.

After the week you've had baking sounded really nice. The mind numbing activity would probably be therapeutic since you haven't baked in so long. You grab two of the bigger bottles of mini M&Ms they always taste better to you, plus mini cookies tend to be a bigger hit than their regular sized counter parts. On your way to the front of the store you pass an end cap for chips. Seeing the white cheddar popcorn you like you grab a bag to replace the one you ate earlier in the week.

You should be set now, as long as Leo had the broth. If he didn't gluten free broth seems like something the Trader Joe's would have.

Toby's already at the counter with Leo, who had a box of broth off to the side. Noice. You place the Atomic candy on the counter with the rest of Toby's items. Leo looks between the two of you but brushes off whatever thought or comment he had.

“This it for you kid?”Leo has already begun ringing him out.

You see the movement of Toby's mouth open while he double checks the cart, he closes it when he sees the wad of paper. He must have forgotten something. Going over your own list you double check to make sure you have everything before it's your turn.

“N-n-n-no, can I-I-I get two boxes of condoms? St-s-st-standard and Large.” Toby's popping his knuckles a little more aggressively than normal, well what you've equated to normal for Toby.

'Oh.' the add ons sort of surprise you, but his exaggerated sigh from earlier makes more sense. Why did you even think that eggs caused that sort of reaction? It was probably because he was gonna have to ask for condoms in front of you. His new friend, nearly a stranger. Toby's agitated tics and stuttering are very valid right now.

You miss the look Leo gives you but Toby doesn't and when Leo looks back at him his tics get more frequent.

Looking to Toby when his 'mrrow' tic keeps repeating, you see the tips of his ears are a soft pink. A stark contrast to their normally grayish white complexion. Wanting to help but knowing he's most likely just embarrassed you decide to say nothing and ignore the situation. Thankfully Leo doesn't make any type of comment either as he finishes ringing out Toby and hands him his receipt.

“This it kid?” He says as he starts checking out your items.

“Um...ah, what's the pizza today?” this week isn't your normal pizza week but with the Picnic being next weekend you probably won't do pizza next week. And you have to have a slice ready for Chonk, least he decides to see what human taste like.

“Spinach and mushroom, a white pizza.”

“Yea I'll take one of those then please.”

“Garlic crust?” How very dare this man. What kind of question is that.

“Of course.”

He leaves to the back of the store yet again to retrieve your pizza. There's a silence that falls over the store as he leaves, leaving only you and Toby out front. Not an awkward type of silence but you definitely aren't going to risk a glance at Toby right now.

“I threw in an extra for that stray you've been feeding.” He says as he returns. Toby having calmed down a bit scoffs at the stray comment.

“That isn't a-a-a stray it's a fucking dem-mon.”

“Ok like that's fair, but he is kinda cute.”

“I don't care what it is, just keep it away from my store.” Leo finishes ringing you up. “Bad for business to have a wild animal rooting through the garbage.” Leo doesn't care about that stuff he also fears Chonk, and all his trash panda glory.

Once you settled your tab with Leo you and Toby go out to your car. You place his items in the backseat while you take the trunk, so no one goes home with the wrong item. Stars forbid you end up with the condom bag and have to awkwardly give that to Toby or even worse Brian or Tim. You've had four interactions with the man but already you can hear Brian's teasing banter.

Getting situated in the car you hand your phone to Toby to pick the music. You'd left your entire library open this time and not just the home page, you wanted to see if he'd pick something different or just go with the last thing played. He did scroll a bit before just clicking the last played playlist. Well at least he looked, maybe you'd make a playlist and see what he liked. He could just enjoy the songs.

While you're stuck at the light waiting to turn you remember consciously that Saturday Night Dead is tomorrow. You wonder if the trio would be joining you all. Wouldn't hurt to ask.

“Hey so are you guys coming over to the Cryptonomica tomorrow night?”

“Tim and Brian are.” Toby's eyes glance at the window as he picks at the skin around his nails.

“Oh. Why aren't you coming?” you hope you don't sound too pushy.

“Hi, I'm Toby I have Tourette's.” He says in a deadpan.

“Nice to meet you, I'm YN I have Autism.” you sass back cutting your eyes to him, “and I have tics too remember.”

“You can sit beside me. The gang never mentions my ticcing or stimming during a movie and I sit in the corner to be less of a distraction.”

From the corner of your eye you can see he peeled off a bit of skin and is now bleeding. When you slow down at the light you reach over him to the glove box and pull out a box of band-aids. Tossing the box in his lap you focus back on the road. There's a cracking sound when Toby's shoulder pop from a tic but other than that you two fall into a lull in the conversation.

From the corner of your eye you see Toby put the box in the cup holders between you. This little shit, just because he doesn't feel pain doesn't mean picking his skin is a healthy fidget.

“...I..I'll think about it.” he's still picking at his skin but maybe reassurance will help him calm down.

“Well, I hope I see you tomorrow then,” you can't help the grin on your face, you're just a touch giddy at the fact you've made a friend this fast. “No pressure though.” can't be too pushy you might scare him off.

You hear a huff as he turns more of his body to look out the window. He isn't upset his energy feels calm almost excited, it's nice to meet someone who isn't so confusing with their actions. Though you'd wish he wouldn't try to hide them. Maybe you both have the same idea of not wanting to overwhelm the other right away. You get the feeling this situation...your blooming friendship with Toby, it isn't something he's use to.

Getting to the RV you help Toby carry in the groceries, despite his protests that he can do it. It was just machismo of course, because once inside the RV you noticed how clean it was for three bachelors and their huge dog living in it. Sure there were dishes in the sink but dishes are a care chore that never ended. There was very little clutter that you saw but you also weren't paying close attention since you were just helping bring in groceries and not here for a visit. It would be rude to look, you think.

Once all of the boys' bags were brought in and either on the counter or table you saw a majority of them had blood smears all on the handles. Fucking Toby, you gave him band-aids for a reason.

“Tobais you're bleeding.”

“Thanks Captain obvious.” you want to smack him.

“Do you guys have a first aid kit?”

“Nope.” he sounds so smug when he pops the 'p' sound.

“Ok, then I'll go get the band-aids out of my car and you wash your hands.”

“Don'-uwu- Don't worry about it.”

You have to bite your lip so you don't laugh but the small stream of air coming from your nose let Toby know you were laughing. Despite his mask you can see his pout clearly when he turns to you.

“I...I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't...but it's too,” your giggling is breaking down your ability to speak, “cute.”

The grumpy face sort of melts off of the boy in front of you, but you can tell by the vibes he's still touchy. You try to calm yourself but quickly realize you aren't giggling anymore because of his tic.

“C'mon it isn't even that funny.” he says gruffly, before looking off to the side.

“No...it's,” you keep shaking your head as the movement doesn't stop. The loop won't stop and you're starting to tear up from the muscles in your abdomen seizing up then relaxing in repetition.

Toby seems to realize what's happened.

“No fucking way.” is all he says as he comes closer to your still giggling form. “A giggling tic?” You can only nod, you're starting to get light headed. Toby noticing you starting to crouch down, helps ease you to sit. He stays by your side as you both wait for the tic to cease.

He even tries rubbing a hand on your back to soothe you into calming down. You'll need to tell him physical comfort doesn't really help you. It's still sweet of him to try.

Unlike a laughing fit that will have a gradual die down of the action, your laughing tic has an abrupt stop. But you feel just as tired and even more sick than someone who just got out of a laughing fit. Breath coming out hitched though you try to gasp in more air to soothe your impending headache. Your face is red and covered in tear stains, once again you are thankful for your mask. This isn't a tic you get often but you probably hate this one the most, just from how drained it leaves you.

Toby continues to rub circles into your back as your breathing starts to even. Eventually he gets up to grab you some water. You notice it's quiet in the RV, not even Connor is around Brian must have him today.

“That was probably karma.” he says as he hands you the glass. Looking up to him confused he continues, “For teasing me about my tic.”

“But I w-wa-,” you take a large gulp of water for the raspiness of your voice, “I wasn't teasing. I just thought 'uwu' was a cute vocal tic.” you say indignantly.

Really you had only thought the verbal tic was cute. Also it'd been a while since you heard 'uwu' said aloud so it caught you off guard.

“Not as cute as a giggling tic.” who's teasing who now.

“Haha, don't get used to it doesn't happen often.”

After settling down from you tic it's time to head home. You really don't want to over stay your welcome. The fatigue is also starting to set in and you want to get home before it really hits.

Toby is nothing if not a gentleman you've noticed. And he continues to be on brand as he walks you back to your car.

“So thanks for that.” vaguely motioning as if to say 'y'know' with your hands rather than your words. Toby knows, you can tell from that boyish glint in his eyes.

“Hope to see you tomorrow night.” you say getting back into your car.

“It's sounding better now.” there's a pause, “Get home safe.” he slaps the interior of your window before backing away from your car altogether.

With a final wave you back out back onto the old dirt road and drive on home. When you get home you realize you never patched up Toby's hand, now you have a small bloodstain on your door.

[parkersharthook]

Sorry For The Disruption

(Tom x female!reader)

warnings: mentions of weed, I think some curse words

1.8K+ words

Requested by the lovely @im-not-okay-i-promise1452​ You’re a teacher and now with this quarantine and social distancing situation going on, you’re expected to teach your classes from the “comfort” of your apartment. Unfortunately, this idea doesn’t really accommodate for those that will be living with three loud boys who never know when to be quiet

~.~

“yeah mom I still have classes, it’ll all just be online now.” There was a pause as you fiddled with your apartment keys, “The kids are gonna hate it.”

Well that sucks honey, I’m sorry.

You shrugged, forcing your screen to press harder against your cheek. “it’s not that big of a deal. It’ll take some time to get used to, but my kids are smart and I’m sure they’ll do just fine.”

You’re planning on staying in, right?

“yeah, I just ran to the supermarket to do some grocery shopping but we should be good for the next week and a half at least.”

You didn’t bulk buy, did you? Everyone is doing that here and I was barely able to get any toilet paper.

You let out a small chuckle as you pushed into your apartment, “no mom I didn’t. Just got some necessities and did regular grocery shopping. I’ll go back out in a week or two or I’ll have some new supplies delivered. We’ll see how bad it all gets.”

Ok well stay safe sweetheart. Tom’s home right?

“yeah he is.” You set the bags on the counter and smiled as you watched Tom immediately go to the hallway to help with the rest.

Is anyone staying with you through this? I know you guys have friends over a lot.

“Yeah.” You shifted the phone to your other ear. “Harrison’s apartment is getting fumigated so he’ll be staying with us. And I think Harry is staying with us for a week too, I’m pretty sure he’s sick of his house right now.”

I know the feeling. Your sister is trying to figure this online thing out and I’m trying to be patient with her but she’s driving me crazy.

You frowned slightly, wishing you could be there to help out. “Well I’m sorry I’m not there. I would’ve come to help out if I knew there would be a travel ban.”

Oh it’s okay sweetheart. It’s pretty bad over here too. I think we just need to stay home and stay calm.

“yeah…” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “how is y/s/n taking all of this?”

She’s sad. Her prom and graduation just got cancelled so she spent yesterday crying. She’s trying to play it off but I know it’s affecting her.

“I’m sure. That’s definitely not how I would’ve wanted my senior year to go.”

There’s still a chance that they’ll have a dance or something at the school if this all calms down so we’ll see.

“well I hope it all works out for her. I’m gonna let you go mom, I have to put away some groceries and I’m sure you have work to do as well.”

Okay honey. I’ll talk to you soon and please keep in touch.

“I will. Love you.”

Love you.

A deep sigh and a click to the phone and you were washed in silence. It didn’t last long though as Tom strolled through the door with his arms full of groceries.

He smiled and pecked your cheek. “are you sure you didn’t bulk buy?”

You rolled your eyes and started putting away some cans. “please, you eat this much every week. And now we’re feeding Haz and Harry. I had to get a lot.”

“you’re sure you’re okay with them staying this week?” His hand grazed your waist as he passed by you in the small kitchen.

You smiled warmly at him, “of course. They’re my family too.”

Tom returned the smile and gave you a chaste kiss. You didn’t want to break it, but you had frozens. You gave him one last peck before turning and opening the freezer. “I do have an online class tonight though so I’ll need you guys to be somewhat quiet.”

“do you need the den?”

You shook your head, reaching up on your tip toes to put away a can of peanuts. Tom smiled and came behind you, easily taking it from your hand and placing it on the shelf.

“I’ll let you guys have the common spaces, I’ll just use the desk in our room.”

“okay love.” Tom pecked your cheek and gave your waist a squeeze. A ding came from his phone and he spun around to check it. “they’re here.”

“one last kiss?”

“of course.” He smiled as he pressed his lips softly against yours. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in deeper. You knew that your PDA would be cut back with both his best friend and brother in the apartment. You needed to make this kiss last. You felt his strong, warm hands come around your back and lower to the curve of your ass. And right as you were about to kiss him even deeper- ping!

You groaned slightly and pulled away, patting his chest to signal the end. He smiled at you sympathetically before moving to the door to let them in. There was a sudden rush of noise as the two boys quickly came in with their luggage and greeted Tom before coming to you. You smiled through the oncoming headache… you could do this.

~.~

“I have my class for the next 45 minutes or so, so I’m gonna need y’all to be somewhat quiet.” You told the three as you grabbed your laptop and backpack and moved towards the bedroom.

“we’re doing a puzzle; how loud could we get?” Harry said as he studied the box.

“knowing you guys? Pretty loud.” You sent them a warning glare before you went back to the bedroom. You sat in the office chair, opened your laptop, and launched the meeting for your students.

You waited patiently as your students slowly began to pop up on your screens in various degrees of ready. Some were wearing pajamas, one was in a very vibrant and tight dress, another boy was shirtless, and there was even one smoking a blunt. You rubbed your head, why did I start teaching high schoolers?

“Okay guys I know this whole thing is a little weird and this is our first meeting so this will be more like an orientation but I do have to go over a few rules.” You sighed as you started talking to your class. “Each session will be recorded for educational and safety purposes so Ryan, I really suggest no smoking on camera. You all also need to be appropriately dressed so Dylan you need to put a shirt on and Ashley, I would recommend a sweater. I personally don’t care if you guys eat while in these sessions, I know a lot of them might interrupt your day to day life but please either mute yourself or chew quietly because that is a gross sound to hear over video.”

There was a small wave of chuckles that went across your students. You watched as your two students that needed to change throw on sweatshirts but unfortunately Ryan was still smoking.

“Ryan I really need you to-”

“Babe! We need you to settle a debate.” You whipped around to see Tom’s head poking through the door.

“Tom, I’m teaching a class!”

He grimaced, “sorry! Sorry y/n’s class!” he quickly ducked out of the room leaving you to groan and spend back around to your class.

“sorry about that guys. Much like you, me and my family are all working from home so it’s a little chaotic.”

“Was that your fiancé?” Gemma asked.

You smiled and nodded. You knew your students knew you had a fiancé, but you had been very secretive about who he was. You knew that your students would never get any work done if they knew that Tom Holland was your boyfriend.

“again sorry about that. Let’s get back to this. Ryan, I’m really going to need you to put that out.” A beat. “thank you. So basically with this class we’ll have a few online assignments-” CRASH!

“Ah what the hell Harry?!”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“well obviously you did!”

You frowned deeply and apologized to your students before getting up and going to the door, opening it and looking down the hallway. You saw probably half of their 1000 piece puzzle on the floor. “You guys really need to be quiet. I’m trying to teach!” You slammed the door and stomped back over to the computer.

“I’m going to try to get this out as quick as possible because obviously everyone in my household doesn’t know how to be quiet. I’ll be assigning a few online things, but I don’t want to just stick you guys with busy work. We’ll be meeting twice a week on zoom so you guys can ask me any questions you have on any of the work. I will also be available to reach by email from 9 to 4 everyday so if you have any questions just email me. Ummm, I understand that this change to online is hard for all of us so I’ll definitely try to be flexible with you guys and I ask that you do the same for me. Any questions?”

Margaret raised her hand, “are our tests and quizzes going to be online?”

You nodded, “yeah they will. The teachers are still working with the school to figure everything out so when I have more information on that I will let you know. Anything else?”

“If we can’t make a meeting what should we do?”

“well every meeting will be recorded so you can access-”

“Y/n!” You looked to the door with an angry expression but before you could stop him, he ran over and grabbed your hand. “we finished the puzzle first! You got to come see!”

“Tom I’m still teaching!” You quickly pulled your hand away and lightly pushed him out of the frame.

“I am so sorry you guys.”

“was that Tom Holland?!”

“Is Tom Holland your fiancé?!”

Your students rattled of questions faster than you could comprehend them and all you could do was glare at tom as he smiled sheepishly. He mouthed sorry as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I am so sorry but obviously we won’t be talking about anything else and I don’t want to keep you longer than I have to so please email me any and all of your questions. Bye guys!” You ended the meeting before they could respond and you instantly whipped around to face Tom.

“Love... I am so sorry.” Tom began slowly.

You closed your eyes slowly and then opened them back up with a tight smile present on your face. “Thomas Stanley, you are answering every email about you because I cannot handle that right now.”

You could hear Haz and Harry’s laughter from the other room. Fuck, you didn’t know if you could do this for 3 weeks.

[helahades]

The Goddess and the Grocer

(Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Sappy and hopelessly romantic, the part time art student, part time grocery bagger, and full time fantasy creator Steve Rogers lives in his head, with you as his muse. Making puzzles out of your groceries, and portraits of your every curve and edge, he fears and craves every interaction, while living with you as a lover in his mind.

A/N: Well. I have struggled with motivation for the longest. Something hit me though, and by something I mean other supportive writers and great friends. Hugest shoutout to @threeminutesoflife for being a darling and @imanuglywombat for making TWO beautiful mood boards I stare at more than Steve stares at the Peggy compass.

Warnings: creepy, obsessive Steve. ideation of creepy thoughts. food focused talk. mention of overeating. dub-con concepts. two mentions of alcohol consumption.

New blog, new me! I’ll take this moment to say I’m taking requests, and I love feedback even more than Steve loves you! hope you enjoy

Word Count: about 3k

-

Now rain slicked, the sheen of oil and water twists the reflections of the tonights red, red, green—-“can I make the turn, no too late” on yellow—now red traffic lights into a twisted rainbow on the city streets.

Down those streets, and across a barren parking lot, parents, lovers, businesspeople and more squeak and clack and slap their rainy shoes on the old speckled tile at the entrance (that Steve had just mopped) as they do every week.

At the Potts Grocery Store, nothing ever changes. And never in the night.

It isn’t just night though, it’s dead night. The odd time after things have slowed for sleep, after the rush in between when people bumble in (promising themselves promises they won’t keep about doing the shopping sooner next month), after the ten minute period within which Dr. Banner wordlessly picks up the same array of bland teas.

The night has crawled beyond all the events that happen as they do, and entered the dead night.

Maybe Steve is too poetic—like his dad says he is—too tied up in fate, and hope in life’s mystique, but he holds hope for what happens where the night is dead.

When the night dies, and most are asleep, with it, facades die too. The only people to come in the dead of night, are drunks, doctors, various night shifters, and… you.

He hasn’t yet questioned your reason for showing up so late. Hasn’t really, technically, spoken to you at all, really.

Some part of Steve thinks, maybe if he startles you, says something that clangs too loud or awkward, all your pieces will blow away, like some agitated dandelion, and he will never know you again, if he ever even knew you at all.

No, Steve’s job isn’t to startle you, or to take up your space. It’s to try and meet your eyes as you hand him the reusable bags. It’s to try and figure out what meal you’re planning from what he’s bagging, and what he already knows lies unused in your kitchen. It’s to put the bags in your cart if you’ll let him.

He hasn’t seen you yet. It’s getting late, where are you?

Somewhere between cold fluorescent and neutral warm desk lamps, the lights of the grocery store seem to exist both to chase shadows on tired shoppers' faces, and to mock him, like a candle finally blown out by a stood up date.

Had he done something wrong the last time? If he had, that couldn’t be helped. You were wearing those shorts and looked like you had just gotten ready for bed and you had your hair pulled back, but just a little fell into your face anyway.

And your scent. It always wraps around him like the saccharine spice of pastries when he swings open the bakery door for his morning shift.

The moment you breezed by him after checkout was almost too much to bear. He caught the fresh damp scent of your tied up and deep conditioned hair. You smelled like fresh linens and a life he can only imagine having when he’s chasing orgasms alone and twisting up his sheets.

He could have devoured you.

But he didn’t.

Not even when your shoulder accidentally grazed him while you were rushing out in a frenzy.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” came your frantic whisper.

He dreams of making you that delicate again. He thinks he could shape your unsure apologies in his hands like clay, or spread you thin on a canvas when you whisper so soft. But he didn’t do those things at all.

Steve being Steve, he tried to make his large frame slouch, your aura wrapping him up into a double life Clark Kent shyness, despite your gentleness.

He didn’t say a word.

A wordless, mirthless stretch of his lips. An “It’s okay, walk all over me” grin. You regarded him with a flicker of an odd glance, and then you were out the door.

As he finishes up with the last shopper in his lane, his worn Converse squeak as he leans his frame against the bagging station at checkout.

-

Last class, last week, his art teacher dropped a big assignment. Stuffy and sadistic, the man seemed to only eat the pain of lovers kept from expression, so of course, he relished in the moment he told the class to try a new medium, with a subject they hadn’t previously captured.

He seemed to look directly at Steve as he delivered the blow.

Steve's problem certainly isn’t creativity. It isn’t talent or lack of effort. He surely is adaptable, he rarely tells on his love!

For the still life project, he captured the tree that blocks your kitchen window. Heavy strokes in his sketchbook.

He even painted the park in blooms on a paper towel—yes a paper towel—when you justified to a cashier one day that all the crackers and deli meats were for a picnic.

So he has a muse. But he’s not a fool. Sometimes he spends so much time trying not to look like a fool, and paints so much around you instead of you, that it’s a self portrait of his own obsession.

Your face. Your curves. The many separated sections where he tried to master the texture of your hair. All those traces of you live in his sketchbook. Only twice has he turned in a portrait of you.

Being told he can’t have you makes Steve feel like he’s been too obvious. You’re his little secret. And he is no fool. He’ll have to be more careful. So here he is.

The canvas is as bare as the walls of his studio apartment.

Three jobs and a potted plant from his mom just aren’t enough to decorate life. He wishes he could capture sleep in a picture frame and hang it on the wall. When he got too tired and caffeine stopped working, he thinks he’d pick up those frames and absorb the sleep in the way he can absorb nostalgia when looking at a real picture.

Then, he thinks, that’s the sort of thing art majors say when they haven’t slept in three weeks.

The canvas is still bare. It isn’t like Steve. He always knows where to go, what he feels, what he wants.

His teacher told him to try something different. Had the nerve to clap Steve on the back after class and say something about stretching creative wings and finding a new muse.

He thinks the guy should have punched him in the face instead.

There’s nothing stuck about Steve. He knows what he wants and how to get there.

He also knows that schooling ruins the intent of art, he knows how to put love into colors, that art teachers know the least about expression out of everyone on earth, and that he works two night jobs a week to barely afford to be taught by that man anyway.

Life is full of oddities.

-

Some of life’s oddities are right there in your cart as you approach. Steve notices the rain has frizzed your hair, the lovely heart shaped curve of your lips as they stretch into a smile, and the way you yawn before you say hello to the cashier.

He makes a mental note that your hair might have a warmer tinge when illuminated by the sun. You’re already his sun. His stars too. Maybe even his whole universe.

You’re always warm in his paintings. Anything to separate you from the dreadful scheme of this commercial death trap.

What’s for dinner this week?

Your groceries thump onto the counter in practiced succession. Perishables together at the front, and non perishables as neatly as possible following behind.

So thoughtful, my sweet darling.

Your produce today mostly consists of fruit. It reminds Steve of how practiced he is with a knife. How he’d slice up your apples just right for you. He has the practiced skills of an artist. He’d take care of you.

Bucky likes to tell him that cooking is the art and baking is the science. That’s meant to mean that it’s no surprise that Buckys got a perfect little life with a perfect little baker who smiles like the sun and only trusts Bucky in her kitchen.

...And it’s no surprise that Steve’s artsy streak has led him here. Thinking about folding mandarin slices between your perfect lips and letting the flavor explode across your tongue.

He thinks about kissing you. How you would taste tangy and sweet as you try not so hard to push him off so he gets back to cooking and doesn’t burn the house down.

The house. A house with you. A home.

He sees you’re wearing a sundress, and tries not to pity you for the irony. In the closet of some cookie cutter three bedroom, you might ask him how you look in it. He would beg you to wear it just for him a little longer, but ultimately, he would have been able to warn you about the rain.

You wouldn’t have listened though, my stubborn angel.

He thinks about your thighs beneath your dress, and the heat between them.

Sometimes, his dreams betray him, and he steps through the threshold to your shared home, not an artist, but a “Honey, I'm home” suit wearing prisoner.

He fears the simple life, but with you, he believes simplicity could be enough. Maybe he would be rich enough to buy you a million sundresses.

But without his art, he’d be powerless to show you how rich you look, bathed in color, divine from his perspective.

Without his art, he has no outlet for imagination. The only thing that gets him off these days is imagining what you look like under your clothes, and how it might sound if you spoke his name.

When you buy lotion, or a candle, he makes a mental note of the scent, and uses it to color his experience later. You like warm sugary scents, or natural outdoorsy ones, with no in between.

As you small talk with the cashier, your card slips from between your fingers and clatters onto the unswept floor. Finishing a thought, you delay in retrieving it, but by the time you’re leaning down, Steve’s already handing it back.

Eyes flitting up to meet the baggage boy standing up at full height, you melt into an easier smile.

You notice first that his eyes are incredibly blue behind the dark window frames, and second that his hands are incredibly warm as he hands your card back.

Frazzled, and just a bit smitten, you smile kindly.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly, regarding him fully, perhaps for the first time, and pausing only to let your eyes drift to the knitted cotton polo stretched across his broad chest—no, to the name tag resting on it…

“Steve,” you finish with a smile that makes it ring like an exclamation point. To hear you finally pronounce his name… it’s like church bells. But they’re muted because now he can only consider your eyes locked on his.

He’s never wanted to escape somewhere and go home with someone so badly. And would it be so wrong?

He could slice up fruit for you. He could bring sausages and deli meats and blocks of cheeses whole from the market where they slipped him things free. He’d slice them up nice and wrap them in cloth and surprise you with an old fashioned wicker basket picnic in the mountains.

He’d let you eat yourself round. And after you were full, he’d still offer to feed you grapes, to pour you more wine.

Steve never understood why the rich ate bread with olive oil, but God he wanted to be rich enough to give you that. All the things that sound ridiculous to people who work to live. He wanted to work so hard you’d never work again.

He wanted to kiss you dizzy, bunch up the fabric of your dress on your hip and tell you he loves you while you’re wine drunk. He’d carry you back to the car and surprise you with wildflowers in a bunch.

Later, he’d paint you nude with them in your hair, and he’d feed you more grapes.

He would tuck you in and wrap you up for later when you woke up missing him. Maybe he wouldn’t leave at all. Maybe you would want to spend the whole day with him too.

He’s got a twinkle of charm in his eye and just a bit of sadness that looks every bit like the starving artist people believe him to be. Bucky hasn’t stopped bringing him the leftover rolls at closing since he found out Steve spends more money on paint than meals.

And is it so wrong? As Steve looks into your eyes, he musters all that charm his mom said he was born with. He blinks brighter the twinkle in his eye.

“You’re welcome,” comes Steve’s gentle, but sure reply.

You pause at that, because really it’s nothing... But people always seem to say “Don’t worry about it!”, “It’s nothing”, or maybe nothing at all.

You pause at how the reaction seemed genuine, in a world of practiced replies, and on a day that you’re feeling shitty because the rain ruined your hair and happiness.

You smile at him again, grateful for a pocket of truthful kindness, and turn back to the cashier, effectively ending the interaction.

Steve’s mind is spinning in ways he just can’t bring himself to understand. So he bags your groceries. You forgot the reusable bags, he doesn’t pause to wonder why.

Click. Click. Click. Beep!

Tomatoes. He bags them with the apples. Double bags for good measure.

Beep.

Spaghetti. The good kind that most people overlook in favor of a more common brand. New bag.

Beep.

Frozen garlic bread. He adores you. You’ve got garlic and basil and more herbs than you’ll ever need at home. You’d probably make the spaghetti noodles and parmesan yourself if you could. But you love five minutes at 400 garlic bread.

He imagines your pretty little kitchen, with all its various knick knacks, smelling like garlic and tomato sauce. He can’t help thinking you’d be impressed with his chopping skills too. Just how his mom taught him.

He imagines cooking with you in the dead of night, instead of being here. He imagines you bending over with your legs straight and your back curved and the oven mitts on to get garlic bread out of the oven. You put the tray on the cold burners Steve’s not using.

Maybe he would ask you to try the sauce, he’d hold the spoon to your lips after blowing off for you. Your eyes always flutter closed to process the taste of things, and sometimes he swears he could read your mind.

Then they would open. Wide. The same way they did when you tasted the new product double chocolate brownie sample last Tuesday. You would tell him how perfect it is and praise how he finally isn’t shy about using garlic anymore. Turning off the burners, he’d pull you into his arms, he’d kiss you til you saw stars…

-

Walking you backwards, still entangled in the breathless kiss, he wouldn’t stop until you bumped the padded kitchen bench. Then he’d fall to his knees.

“Steve, honey”—

You’d cut yourself off with a breathy moan because he’d already be under your skirt.

Kissing up your thighs, flattening his tongue against you, kissing you gently, before sucking your clit, while working it with the tip of his tongue, he’d show you again, like always, how passionate of a lover he is.

You’d moan like heaven, because you are.

You’d lean back, propping yourself up on an arm and pushing the other hand through his golden hair. You just can’t stop your hips from rolling against his tongue that’s still worshipping you.

He won’t use his fingers. It wouldn’t be proper, he’s just been cooking. So instead, he uses those hands to pull your thighs up onto his shoulders.

Still swirling his tongue around your clit, Steve is drawing you closer, your body seeming to know it’s own ways to pull him to you too.

It’s electric. You can’t stop and you’d never want to. He’d make love to you every single—

-

That’s not where he is though. He grabs the paper bags he’s bagged up with your ingredients and some other oddities, and he places them in the cart you’ve pushed forward.

He tries not to think about the fact that you’re going home alone. He tries not to think about how he’ll be sleeping alone, and in cold colors. Tries to skip forward to later when he has all the time in the world to imagine the way things should be.

A quiet goodnight and you’re on your way. You’re careful not to graze him as you walk away, and he’s careful not to be obvious watching.

The cashier leaves the station, and Steve puts his head down as he passes, before looking up in your direction as he always does.

Except… when he looks up to see your sundress swishing, it isn’t. And you’re turned back looking at him with this funny little look.

You smile. A twinkle of embarrassment, nervous to have been caught looking. He tries not to chuckle for all the irony.

He watches you as you watch him just a bit longer, before your sundress swishes out the door, and the light of your halo fades into the distance, consumed by the rain.

-

By the time his shift is up, the rain has stopped and the sky is colored like a bruise. The sun knocks at a threshold unseen, just slightly feathering light through the sky.

Steve is dead tired, but he won’t sleep a wink. Once he arrives at his apartment, he begins the project.

A mixed medium piece. Acrylic paint, charcoal shadowed details. It’s a wicker basket, full of apples, grapes, and wildflowers.

-

Later, as the sun rises, and the painting is half done, he flops into bed, finishing up a stale roll from the bakery, and dreams about waking up to you.

He pretends there’s no job to be at in three and a half hours, but instead, that it’s a quiet Sunday, and he’s waking up to you in his arms...

Soft and ethereal.

-

Thank you for reading!

Whether or not this is your type of writing, or you liked it at all, I just want to tag some authors who generally inspire me and helped in some way to motivate me posting my first piece: @threeminutesoflife @imanuglywombat @sherrybaby14 @jtargaryen18 @heavenbarnes @tropicalcap @allaboardthereadingrailroad @thotty-tatertot @sapphirescrolls

[andcontemplation]

Old Friends, New Lives

Joyce Byers saw a ghost. Right there in the produce section of the supermarket. 

Across the display of crated oranges, hovering over the bulk bins, Jim Hopper had caught her eye. She stopped in her tracks and gasped. It was clear by the shock written all over her face that she wasn’t expecting to see him.

“What are you doing here?” 

The words tumbled out of her before she bit down on her bottom lip so hard, there was no way she didn’t taste blood, and her eyes went wide. She blinked once, twice, and gave her head a little shake. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing -- was it really him?

“Getting groceries for my mom,” Hopper gave a half shrug. “What does it look like?”

He waved the list at her as if to convince her that yes -- he was indeed real, and it wasn’t really a big deal. Not like she hadn’t seen him in just a smidge over two years. 

843 days to be precise… not like either of them was keeping count.

 A smirk tugged the corners of his mouth at the sight of her floundering above the mixed nuts, but he fought it. She was still so cute when she was flustered, and to be honest, he was enjoying making her squirm—just a bit. 

Joyce just shook her head impatiently.

“No, I meant, what are you doing here? At home. We weren’t expecting you…”

Hopper glanced at his list and grabbed a box of oranges for his basket.

“I’m on R n’ R. Uncle Sam let me come home for a few weeks before my next tour.”

Joyce continued to shake her head, moving from impatience into disbelief. Or maybe hurt? Anger. Sadness.

She blinked back what looked like tears and nearly choked on her next words.

“And you didn’t think to call? Or write?”

“Well, I was going to…” Hopper shrugged again, wondering how much longer he could keep up this charade of not-giving-a-fuck. Then he reminded himself that he kinda had a reason to be distant and cold with her. 

“So why didn’t you?” she asked.

Joyce shifted her weight, and even though he couldn’t see it, he knew she had her hands on her hips behind the display. He couldn’t meet her gaze, so he glanced around the store, at the walnuts on sale, at a young family passing by pushing their baby in a shopping cart. Looking anywhere but at her.

“Didn’t think it was right to hit up someone else old lady at Christmastime,” he muttered after a second.

Joyce sighed deeply, and it drew his attention back to her. 

She was staring at him, in earnest or exasperation, he couldn’t tell. Her eyes drifted over him as if taking in his image just in case it was the last time she might see him again. It didn’t feel like much had changed since they’d seen each other last. Sure, his messy, dirty blonde mop was now cropped high and tight, and the old button-down flannel he’d got from his closet didn’t quite fit him like it used to just a few years ago back in high school. He’d bulked up from his time in the army and lost some of that boyish charm and innocence somewhere along the way to the jungles of Vietnam, and maybe she could see that too. 

She was staring into his soul now. As much as he might’ve been hurt, she was hurt too, maybe even worse. If that was even possible.

“We’re still friends, Hop,” she said, finally.

“Are we?”

Joyce nodded, her cheeks flushed. She looked down for a long moment, and when she raised her head again, he swore she looked just a little bit guilty.

“Yeah,” she said. “We are.”

Then she stepped around the bulk bin, out from behind the crates of Christmas oranges and into the open where he could see now why she might feel guilty. Just a bit.

Hopper knew about the wedding. He didn’t know about this...

Joyce pushed her cart to the side and walked closer to him, fully aware it was his turn to stare now. Her left hand fell to her belly self-consciously, and Hopper didn’t know what hurt worse: the flash of a modest gold ring on her finger under the harsh fluorescent lights or the graceful swell of the child growing inside her. 

She was glowing with her rosy cheeks, dark hair pulled up high in a bouncy ponytail, and a blue corduroy jumper dress that flattered in her condition. Motherhood looked surprisingly good on her, and Hopper struggled with the emotions bubbling up inside; that it wasn’t him who put her in the family way instead.

“Christ, look at you,” was all he managed to get out, his hardened exterior slowly starting to melt away. 

Joyce heaved a sigh and leaned against the bins. 

“Yeah.”

Hopper’s heart sank at the verbal confirmation that what he was seeing was the god awful truth. He cleared his throat and tried to talk over the lump forming there. 

“I heard from Mom that you and Lonnie…” 

He couldn’t finish. He didn’t want to think about the fact her new last name was now Byers.

“Yeah,” Joyce said again, looking sorry. “I wanted to tell you. I just… didn’t know how.”

Hopper just shook his head.

“How-- I mean… When are you… due?”

“Any day now.”

Hopper rocked back on his heels, searching for something more to say than abject stammering. The emotions were getting the best of him. 

“He treating you good?”

“Yeah,” Joyce breathed, a happy grin creeping up on her lips. “Never thought I’d say that. But Lon’s been really sweet on me since he found out he’s gonna be a dad. It was even his idea to get hitched,” she said, trailing off, “I wanted to wait…”

Anger and jealousy won, and Hopper’s lip curled, despite himself. 

“Didn’t wait very long, huh?” 

He only sort of regretted saying it the second Joyce’s grin vanished. 

“Well, good for Lonnie,” Hopper continued, trying his best not to sound too sarcastic. “Never pegged him for the marrying kind.”

The color disappeared from her cheeks then, too. Joyce set her jaw and glared. 

“At least he stays true to his commitments. Unlike some people.”

Hopper rolled his eyes. 

“Yes. Clearly, Lonnie knows where his priorities lie. Like sending his pregnant wife out to get groceries for Christmas dinner right when she’s about ready to pop.”

Joyce gripped her shopping cart and pulled it towards her in defiance. 

“Well… a wife’s responsibility is running the house, you know.”

“Not when you’re as big as a house.” 

Hopper realized what he said as it left his mouth, and he had never felt more regret in his twenty short years on Planet Earth.

“Excuse me?”

“Whatever happened to women’s lib?” Hopper tried to backpedal. “I thought you were all for getting women out of the house…”

“I am nine months pregnant, Jim Hopper--”

“I just meant you shouldn’t be on your feet right--”

But Joyce refused to hear him.

“I cannot believe you! That is the rudest--”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” 

He cut her off, raising his voice, causing the nearby shoppers to stop and gawk at the trouble brewing next to a case of apples and oranges.

“You know what?” Her hand went up, and she leaned forward over her cart handle. “I’m going to stop you right there before I take out your knee caps using this shopping cart as my battering ram.” 

Her eyebrows shot up as if she was telling him to try her. For a moment, he was actually scared of the five-foot-three mother-to-be -- she was absolutely Horrifying with a capital H when she was hormonal and angry. No Viet-Cong could send chills down his spine the way she just did.

Then, as if a switch was flipped, Joyce straightened up, looked at her wristwatch, and pressed her lips together, slowly pushing her cart away.  

“It was really nice running into you, Jim, but you’ll have to excuse me. I suddenly have more important things to do… like pick out a ham.”

“Great!” 

Hopper grabbed an apple and slammed it into his basket. He grabbed another and squeezed it, bruising the fruit as he watched her walk away. 

“Excellent. Thanks for the catch-up. Let’s do this again sometime!” He called out after her, eliciting a few more concerned glances from passers-by. 

She stopped at the next aisle, looked over her shoulder, and gave him an exaggerated eye roll and a dismissive wave.

“Have a nice life, Hop,” she muttered over her shoulder, just under her breath. Just loud enough so only he could hear her.

“Same to you, sweetheart,” he snarled, even though he was pretty sure only the bananas heard him that time. 

A few moments later, Hopper was awkwardly standing in front of the bountiful display of yams and potatoes, his shopping basket at his feet, hoping Joyce would be done with the cereal soon -- where he needed to go next -- when he heard her cuss. Expecting it to be directed at him, he turned, ready to start the argument up again but instead, his blood ran cold. 

Joyce was holding herself up against the Cheerios, clutching the shelf with white knuckles. Her face was twisted in pain. 

Hopper left the basket at his feet and crossed the produce section to get to her as fast as possible.

“You okay?” he asked as he approached, worried.

“Yeah, fine.” Joyce waved him off through a grimace. She rubbed her belly and tried to convince the both of them. “It’s just a little cramp. I’ve had them all morning.”

“Joyce,” Hopper said, reaching for her as the cramp worsened. 

“I’m fine!” She shouted, pulling her arm out of his grasp. The motion made her fall back into her cart, and Hopper caught her just in time before it rolled away on her.

“No,” he told her firmly. “You’re not!”

Joyce grimaced and whined and bore down through the pain. 

“I- I think I’m…” she stammered before it happened.

Hopper stepped back just as her water hit the floor tiles with a sickening splash. Joyce looked up at him, stunned.

Oh shit. 

“Okay,” he said, taking charge. “Let’s get you out of here.” 

“The groceries…” Joyce said in a daze, reaching for her cart as Hopper was escorting out towards the store’s front.

Just like in combat, Private Hopper never skipped a beat under pressure. All sorts of pressure. Like navigating a minefield or getting his ex-girlfriend to the hospital to deliver his arch-enemy’s baby.

“Forget the groceries,” Hopper told her before he started asking the tough questions. “Where’s Lonnie?”

“I… I don’t know,” Joyce admitted as she waddled down the aisle, Hopper helping to hold her upright from behind. She let go of his hand she didn’t realize she was holding as the wave of pain started to subside.

“He’s not at home?” Hopper asked her. Why was he even surprised?

“He said he was going to visit a friend last night, but he didn’t come home.” 

“Of course he didn’t,” Hopper snorted.

As they turned the corner towards the front doors, they passed an unavoidable crowd -- the checkout lines were full of onlookers. 

“Hey buddy, clean up on aisle three,” Hopper said to the nearest bag boy.

Everyone at the checkout lanes stopped what they were doing and stared. Some, who knew the pair, whispered between them; others smirked but averted their gaze. The bag boy, who was all of fourteen, turned white as a sheet when he realized what was going on, but the kid quickly nodded, opening the door for them out into the parking lot.

“Out of the way!” Hopper shouted to a group of smoking, loitering teens, and they scattered at the foreboding sight of the pregnant lady going into labor. 

“Where’s your car?” Hopper asked Joyce.

She stopped to catch her breath. 

“There.” 

She pointed at her mom’s beat-up old Ford Galaxie in the expectant-mothers stall and handed him the keys from her purse.

He opened the passenger door for her and all but pushed her in. If she hesitated any more, it might’ve looked like a kidnapping to any other bystanders. 

“Do you need anything from home?” he asked as he climbed into the driver’s side. “Or do you want to go straight to the hospital? Joyce?”

She had a distant look on her face, and all the color drained from it in a split second. She was going into shock. 

“Joyce!” Hopper barked like he was trying to get a new Private’s attention. “Answer me!”

“I’m fine! I’m fine.” She snapped out of it and moaned. Clutching her stomach, she closed her eyes. “Just take me to hospital. Please hurry.”

He did as he was told, and it didn’t take them long to get there. The Galaxie practically floated down Main street towards Hawkins Memorial on what was left of the suspension. Hopper drove the big pink boat like it was a Ferrari, weaving in and out of the wintery mid-day traffic, and silently practiced what he’d say if they got pulled over. But by the grace of god, they never did.

He got her to the Emergency Room in record time, leaving the car parked and running at the entrance. An orderly helped him bring Joyce to intake, and Hopper helped her answer questions through another wicked contraction. Then, as he got her comfortable in one of the waiting room chairs, with the assurance that it wouldn’t be long now, Hopper got the feeling like maybe he had done all he could, or should... 

He would park her car, call a cab to take him back to the supermarket, finish up his mother’s shopping, and go home. His job here was done. Yet he couldn’t help himself when he asked aloud:

“Do you want me to stay?” 

Joyce’s eyes were red, rimmed with tears as she tried not to cry while she contemplated his question. It felt like forever before she shook her head. 

“No…”

Hopper nodded slowly but took the answer quickly, half expecting it. He squeezed her arm and stood up to go. 

“Wait,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Can you find Lonnie? Please?” she asked. “Call Norm Brown. 0465. Or maybe Tony’s? He’s at 3112. Or was it 3113? Shit. I can’t remember…” Joyce wracked her brain for the phone numbers to give him, looking panicked, sucking in shallower and shallower breaths. She was starting to hyperventilate. 

“Hey, breathe…” Hopper said, crouching in front of her, getting her to slow down. “Just breathe. I’ll find him for you, okay? I promise. What about your mom? Want me to call her too?” 

Joyce focused on her breath, speaking between long inhales and exhales. 

“She’s not here. Taking care of aunt Darlene. It’s just Lonnie. And me right now.”

When her breathing evened out, he caught her eye, giving her one last reassurance. 

“I’ll find him. Don’t worry your pretty little head… Mom.”

Joyce laughed at the absurdity of the new name on her. 

“This is actually happening, isn’t it?” A couple tears ran down her face, and Hopper caught them with his thumb before they got too far down her cheeks.

“Yup.”

“I’m not just dreaming this?” she sputtered, followed by another short giggle.

Hopper forced a smile, even though he knew it was tinged with sadness.

“Nope.”

It looked like Joyce was about to say something more when a matronly grey-haired nurse with a wheelchair interrupted, killing the moment.

“Missus Byers? We can take you in now. Does Dad want to come in too?

Hopper stood up and let go of her hand, practically recoiling. 

“Oh, no. No. No… I’m not…”

The older nurse frowned.

“Oh.” 

Joyce smiled awkwardly. 

“He’s just an old friend.”

“A close friend of the family,” Hopper added.

The nurse raised an eyebrow. 

“Sure, whatever you kids wanna call it,” she said, then turned to Joyce. “Are you ready?”

Joyce closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.

“Yes,” she said to the nurse. As Hopper helped her into the wheelchair, she reached for him one last time. 

“Find him for me, Hop?”

“I will. Hey,” Hopper locked eyes with her and then leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “You’re gonna do great.”

“Thanks.” She whispered back, squeezed his hand, her fingers lacing with his for a brief moment in time.

Hopper swiftly kissed the top of her head as he stood up to go. Then, he watched her get wheeled off beyond the swinging double doors and into the next stage of her life while he stayed firmly planted in their old one. 

When Hopper had parked her car and left her keys with hospital reception, he found a payphone and called the numbers Joyce had given him. One was no answer. The others said they’d pass along the message to Byers, which was good enough for now. 

Then Hopper called a cab to go back to the supermarket, but he could barely focus. He grabbed the essentials from what he remembered from his mom’s list, lost somewhere along the way to the hospital, and then went home in a daze himself. 

He wondered how it was they got to this point -- former best friends, lovers, now perfect strangers in each other’s lives, except for those few moments in between when it was only them and whatever trouble they’d found themselves in. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend the merry-go-round of misunderstandings and his-and-her mistakes in life that brought them here. Any sane person would say it was time to let go, move on. 

Was a friendship even salvageable after all they’d been through? She seemed to think so, briefly before he ruined it with his bad attitude. 

Later that evening, Hopper tried to get comfortable and get some sleep, something he was sorely lacking since jetting halfway around the world only a few days prior -- he was still on Saigon time. But he could only toss and turn, thinking about Joyce. Worried that Lonnie might still be MIA, and she’d be all alone, he got up, grabbed the bouquet of lilies he’d brought home for his mom from the airport out of the crystal vase off the dining room table, tied it up with some ribbon he found under the Christmas tree and drove back to the hospital. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what his plan was when he got there. He just had the urge to see Joyce again, one more time, and tell her it’d be okay.

But when he walked through the front entrance to the Maternity ward, Lonnie was there in the waiting room just beyond the intake desk, smoking a cigar with a few buddies, looking like they’d just finished up a shift at the bar. The sight of the other man was enough to stop Hopper dead in his tracks. The last few times they had interacted ended in fisticuffs, and Hopper knew better than to engage, especially tonight. Lonnie might’ve been an asshole, but it was still his first kid. He had a right to be happy and celebrate, without anyone shitting on his parade or stirring up trouble. 

Hopper doubled back to the pretty red-headed nurse at the front desk and handed her the flowers, interrupting the paperwork she was shuffling through.

“Give these to Baby Byers. Tell the family congratulations for me.”

The young nurse nodded and smiled sweetly at Hopper as he turned to go.

“Oh, but there’s no card,” she said after him. “Who should I say they’re from?”

Hopper shrugged. 

“Just an old friend.”

[nose-bandaid]

Smitten

hihi !! are your requests open? sorry, i was looking around your blog but I couldn’t find anything ;; if so, would you be open to writing a fluffy boy next door for joshua? (svt) hope you have an amazing day <3

Joshua x (gender neutral) Reader | boy next door AU fluffy fluff:) | 3.3k words

synopsis: you’ve got a new neighbour — as you’ve been expecting for the past few months. what you didn’t expect was for you neighbour to be the most polite, kind hearted, and not to mention beautiful, man you’ve ever met. alternatively:

“when your pet dog does a better job at getting you a date than all of your friends combined.”

a/n: for my lovely bunny anon! i hope it’s to your liking and that it’s at least somewhat similar to what you had in mind:) i had a lot of fun brainstorming the ideas so i’m really hoping my writing does it justice lol

You almost dropped the bag in your hand when you turned the corner to your street and saw a party going on right beside your house. You even did a double take to make sure you didn’t make the wrong turn earlier, but nope, you were on the correct street alright. And the group of people milling about didn’t seem to be planning on going anywhere, anytime soon.

It baffled you, how such a ruckus could’ve emerged within the hour that you were gone to get some groceries. Sure, you were expecting a new neighbour — the house had been on sale for the past few months — but you weren’t expecting, what, ten? Twelve? No, thirteen people? How were they planning on fitting all of those bodies into such a tiny house? 

Even from afar, you could tell that they were a rowdy group, and their loud voices reached all the way to where you stood. Your stomach squirmed at the thought of having to deal with a bunch of chaotic people living right next to you for the next who-knows-how-many-years, and you took slow steps towards your own house. The old couple that lived on the other side of you had all of their blinds drawn, which was unusual of them to do, considering they loved the sunlight, and you wondered if they’ve made a noise complaint yet. 

When you finally reached your own yard, the energy within the party died down a little and some of the boys cast curious glances your way while whispering and snickering to each other. You just stared back at them until one broke from the group and approached you with a bashful smile.

“Hello!” He radiated such a soft, friendly aura, your initial spite towards the group melted away and you willingly accepted his handshake.

“Hi.” You managed a tight smile. “I suppose you guys are my new neighbours?”

His eyes widened and he turned back to the others, who had already found something else to engross themselves in. “Ah... no, no.” He turned back to you and gave you a sheepish look.

“Sorry, those are my friends, they all insisted that they visit me on the day I moved. Even though they probably won’t be helping me with the actual moving.” He rolled his eyes childishly at that last part.

“I see...” You watched the group together, as they began screaming at what seemed to be a funny video on someone’s phone. Judging from your neighbour’s deadpan expression, he was just as tired of the noise as you were.

“So yeah, it’s just me that’s your neighbour, don’t worry. I’ll try to make sure that it’s not this chaotic the next time they visit. I’m Joshua by the way.”

“Y/n.” You responded, and he echoed it quietly before nodding. “And it’s not much of a problem, I don’t really mind the noise. I guess I’m just not that used to it being lively in this neighbourhood.” You gestured to the empty streets as you spoke.

Before he could respond, one of his friends loudly called out his name and Joshua gave you another apologetic look.

“I probably shouldn’t ignore them. I’m sorry that this introduction wasn’t the best out there, but let’s try to redo this again later.”

You bid him off with a wave and made your way into your own house as the group of boys started shouting once again. Giving them one last glance, you laughed quietly to yourself and wondered how they could possibly store that much energy into their bodies. Even just watching them goof around like that made you exhausted.

You were greeted with your own bundle of energy to deal with when your dog, Mittens, dashed towards you upon your arrival. The sound of your keys jingling never failed to catch her attention. Dropping to the floor in defeat, you let her gift you with a flurry of kisses and you returned the love with some scratches behind the ear.

“Hey, Mittens.” 

She barked, and you were grateful that most of your conversations with her didn’t end up being one sided. Though you weren’t able to understand a single thing she was trying to tell you, at least it seemed like she was trying. 

“We got a new neighbour today, and guess what?” 

Another happy bark.

“He’s kinda cute, you know?”

=====

You saw Joshua again the next morning when you took Mittens for her daily walk. Or at least, that’s what you tried to do. The moment you stepped outside, she abruptly bounded towards him, yanking the leash straight out of your hands.

“Mittens—!” Before you could react, she had already tackled him to the ground  and was delivering her usual round of kisses, the boxes previously in his hands scattered all over the driveway. You ran up to them and quickly heaved her off the man, letting a string of apologies fall out of your mouth. As friendly as he seemed to be, you didn’t think that having your dog attack him with her love was the best way to make your first impressions.

“I’m so sorry she’s never acted this way towards anyone before I don’t know why she did it.”

Joshua laughed and dusted off his pants. “It’s alright, I take it that this is your dog?”

Lending him a hand to help pull him back up, you answered. “Yeah, her name is Mittens.”

He raised an eyebrow at the mention of her name. “Mittens?” 

You pouted. “Hey! I think it’s a cute name... And it’s because she kept on stealing my mittens when I first adopted her.”

“Just curious,” He shrugged. “Y/n and Mittens... yeah, that sounds like a cute pair.”

You frantically tried to distract yourself from the blush blooming on your cheeks and remembered the boxes laying on the ground. “Right! Your boxes I’m so sorry about that too, I hope they weren’t anything that important?” The last thing you wanted to do was destroy your neighbour’s property on the second day of knowing him.

“Oh, these? They’re just my clothes, it’s all good.” He answered, dismissing the boxes with a wave.

“Thank goodness,” You let out a sigh in relief as your pet struggled in your arms, trying to go back to Joshua. “Do you need any help with moving in?”

He shook his head in a polite denial. “There’s only a few things left to bring in, I should be done in a bit, thank you though. However...”

You perked up when his voice trailed off. “Yeah?”

“I might need some help with getting over how cute Mittens is.”

You burst into a fit of laughter at his confession. “She’s usually not that friendly to new people, but she seems to like you a lot. You’re welcome to hang out with her anytime you’d like, if we’re both free. I trust you, you seem like a nice person.”

“Really? Thanks for that.” He bent down to pet Mittens and gave her a longing look. “I had to leave my own dog back home with my parents because of some vet stuff that needs to be completed, so I really appreciate it. It’s like a little reminder of him.” As he got back up, he retrieved one of the fallen boxes and gave you a smile. 

“I’ll look forward to getting to know you two better then.”

=====

Over the next few weeks, you realized that the time you took Mittens out for her walks aligned with the time Joshua usually set off to work. Which was a clearly a win for your pet, who still treated him like a brand new friend every time she saw him. You weren’t complaining either, the perfect schedule meant that you got to see his gorgeous face and listen to his sweet voice every morning — a wonderful way to start your days. But you weren’t quite sure how good that was for your heart, because you were well aware that you’ve begun to fall for him. 

Hard.

Once in a while, the two of you would meet up in each other’s backyards so that he could spend some time with Mittens, who would practically refuse to eat her dinner when he’s around, because she’s just that happy to play with him. These meetings also allowed you to learn more about each other, and to you, everything about him just seemed so perfect in your eyes. You learned about how he moved here to be closer to his new job, and how some of the friends he grew up with — the ones at the party — were starting up a band in the city. You learned that he played the guitar in his free time, and that he used to teach little kids at a music school. He also grew up in a very quiet town with a small family, explaining his down-to-earth, endearing personality. Honestly speaking, if you were him, you’d find it hard to not boast about all the talents you had.

As time continued to pass and your crush on him continued to grow, you found it harder and harder to look at him in the eyes when he passed by. Heck, even conversations with him had gotten more difficult, and you could barely hold one without stuttering out some barely coherent words. But being the polite man he was, Joshua never showed a single sign of annoyance towards your change in character. Which honestly, just made you fall for him even harder.

It eventually got to the point where you had no choice but to alter your schedule. If you didn’t create an opportunity to compose yourself, you swore you would literally combust in front of him. And so, you held off on walking Mittens so early in the morning, and opted to taking those walks when you got home from work instead. Though it didn’t eliminate your encounters with Joshua, you were grateful to have more time alone to think about your feelings because you had no damn clue what to do with them.

Mittens however, seemed to notice the way you’ve been avoiding the man in question, and had been sending knowing looks your way (how she does that as a dog, you don’t know, but her message is strong and clear) every time she saw Joshua outside. And on one particular day, she was adamant on getting you to see him. She didn’t stop barking at the harmless window until you joined her in the living room to check out the sight that’s been provoking her.

And of course, it was just Joshua lugging a guitar case back into his house. He must’ve returned from visiting his friends in the city, judging from the way he was dressed the slightest bit fancier than he usually did. Though his clean and casual style suited him very well, you had to admit the button down shirt he had on made him look incredibly refined. As he unlocked his door, he looked your way and sent a small wave.

Your ears burned when you realized he must’ve caught you staring from the window and you could barely muster a wave back before flopping onto the couch with a sigh. 

Your dog plopped herself onto the carpet nearby, finally calm, and you glanced at her.

“You have it good Mittens... So lucky.” 

She simply stared at you happily, not understanding the reason for the downcast tone in your voice. Nonetheless, you continued your miserable rambling.

“Like really, I’m so jealous. So you can express your love for him at every passing minute but I can’t? And you have permission to give him constant kisses, but not me?” You paused. 

“Wait, I take that back, that sounds so stupid now that I’ve said it out loud. Of course it would be weird if I went up to him like that. I have to be a decent human being and neighbour.” You muttered into the arm draped over your face in an attempt to hide your embarrassment.

You rolled onto your side and scratched her head in an attempt to apologize for your harsh comments. Mittens gave you a small lick on your other hand in response. What am I going to do...

“Ah... I’m smitten aren’t I?”

You laid there for a good ten minutes, moping about your one sided crush and how unfortunate it would be if you did confess to him, only to get rejected. You’d still be forced to face him pretty much every single day, being neighbours and all, wouldn’t you? Oh how awkward that situation would be. You let out a long groan until you felt a nip at your fingers.

“Ow!” You frowned at your pet who playfully growled back. “What was that for?”

She scurried toward the front door and once again, barked at you endlessly until you hefted yourself into a sitting position on the couch. “What is it?”

She began scratching at the door — an act that she knew you didn’t really appreciate. You thought the two of you had already reached a mutual agreement to have her use other methods to announce when she wanted to be let out. 

Then it hit you.

She’s doing this on purpose isn’t she?

You sighed, not even bothering to fight her antics, and got up to open to door. “You want to be let out? Is that it?”

She let out a joyous bark the moment she was free, and dashed towards the other houses across the street. 

“Hey!”

In a rush, you hastily slipped on your shoes to catch up to your runaway pet. Your stomach churned with worry, what if she messed up someone else’s property and got you into trouble? Or even worse, what if she got herself into trouble? As empty as the streets usually were, you couldn’t bear the thought of her getting injured.

“Mittens! Come back here!” You desperately called.

And she did. 

Your dog returned to you with a happy smile on her face, as if her only motive was to lure you out of the house and into the bitterly cold wind. You didn’t even get to even spit out a lecture about her dangerous behaviour before she was on the run again, and this time, she made a beeline to Joshua’s backyard. If any of the other houses were looking out their windows that day, they must’ve thought it was quite silly to see their grown neighbour desperately chasing after their energetic dog, but you didn’t care. She was clearly up to no good, and you had to put a stop to that immediately.

The door to the backyard was left wide open that day, and she took full advantage of that, slipping easily into his property. You just stood there, mouth gaping at the audacity your pet had to pull yet another stunt, and she simply stopped in her tracks to smile at you in the safety of his garden. With dumfounded steps, you made your way towards her and hesitated before entering. As much as you wanted to snatch your dog and flee back into your home as quickly as possible, you didn’t want to enter his yard without permission. What if he happened to see you randomly lingering in his backyard? He’d most likely understand your reasoning behind it, but you wouldn’t be able to stand the embarrassment that was sure to come with the confrontation. After taking a moment to weigh your options, you decided it was best to try and coax her out of there without actually entering. You even considered offering extra treats for a week, despite her bad behaviour.

Before you could even utter out a single word, Mittens began nudging the wooden door with her body, and a strong gust of wind completed the task, shutting (and ultimately locking) the door in front of you.

All alone, you almost screamed out loud at all the unfortunate events that just had to happen to you. It felt as if everything really was scripted by someone else, and you were the unlucky protagonist who had to deal with it. The only option you had now was to get Joshua to help you out, or else Mittens would either A) hang out in his backyard until she gets noticed or B) dig her way through into someone else’s yard. You definitely didn’t want to risk having to deal with the latter, so you begrudgingly made your way to your lovely neighbour’s door to finally give in into Mittens’ plan. Letting out a sight, you tried to compose yourself before ringing the doorbell. You certainly weren’t in the ideal state to present yourself with, but you had no other choice. 

It took about a minute before you heard some shuffling on the other side, and the door opened to reveal a sinfully good looking Joshua. He looked as if he had just gotten out of the shower, with his damp hair hanging over his eyes, small towel wrapped around his neck, and loose fitting t-shirt that exposed way too much skin for your own good. Stray water droplets still ran down his face and he wiped them away before greeting you with that goddamn cute smile.

“Hi y/n! Sorry that took a while, just got out of the shower.” He gestured to his appearance and you merely nodded, at a loss for words. “What brings you here?”

Tearing your eyes away from him, you stared at the fuzzy pink carpet at his front door instead, and reminded yourself of the reason why you were talking to him in the first place.

“Ok, so believe it or not, Mittens was being sneaky as usual—,” He interrupted your sentence with a small chuckle. “—and she somehow made her way into your backyard and shut the door on me before I could do anything about it.”

His expression morphed from understanding to astonishment. “She really did that? So like, you’re telling me she’s in my backyard right now?”

“Well, hopefully, she’s still in your backyard and hasn’t run off yet. It’s almost as if she’s trying to play games with me, I can’t with this dog.” You muttered, and Joshua gently patted your shoulder in consolation.

“No worries, I’ll go check right now and if she’s there, I’ll let her out through the backyard.”

When you nodded in agreement to his idea, he shut the door with a soft click and you anxiously paced the front yard, waiting for the arrival of Joshua, and hopefully Mittens in tow. It took a while — much longer than you thought it should’ve taken, but you also knew just how difficult she could be, so you waited it out patiently and hoped for the best.

After what felt like eternity, the backyard door opened again and Mittens came bounding into your arms, tackling you the same way she did to your neighbour when she first met him. Shouting a quick “Thanks!” at Joshua underneath all the fur you were buried in, he simply sent you a small thumbs up before disappearing behind the fence. It a bit odd that he left so quickly without a word, but you quickly dismissed the thought to turn your attention back to the happy troublemaker. 

As you lightly scolded your pet for pulling off a stunt like that, you noticed something unusual dangling from her collar and gently took it into your hands. 

It was a small guitar keychain with a piece of paper taped to it, definitely not something that you owned. And from the way it was attached, it was obvious that it didn’t accidentally cling onto the collar in the midst of her adventure. Someone had put it there.

Taking it off, you curiously unfolded the paper to read a beautifully handwritten note.

Hey y/n! 

Ever since I moved in, I’ve been having a great time getting to know you and such. I’ve learned that you’re a wonderful friend and neighbour:)

I feel like Mittens is trying to scheme up something here haha, maybe she knows more about life than we both do? Things can work out in pretty funny ways. Anyways, I can’t just let her do all the work so... How about we grab a cup of coffee this weekend, if you’re free? My number’s on the other side of this so let me know:)

— Joshua ♡

Burying your face into your hands, you gushed at the note and gave your loving canine a big hug.

“Ok Mittens, I’ll have to thank you for this one.” You whispered, unable to wipe the stupid smile off your face. 

=====

i’m sorry if the plot felt a little rushed askhfddkjgf if i continued rereading this i think i would’ve ended up making it worse.

but despite that, it was still written with love, so i hope you enjoyed it! ♡

~ tiny

[imagine-loki]

I signed up for this

TITLE: I signed up for this.

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: After the Chitauri attack on New York, imagine Loki being sentenced to public service on Earth, specifically in aiding people who got hurt during the attack. His magic has been limited to only be enough to aid keeping Odin’s spell in place so he wouldn’t turn blue. His task is to help people with special needs, to do house chores, help them get around, do their grocery and keep them company while they recover. He is assigned to a girl who ended up blind after one of the Chitauri shot at her.

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: Decided to challenge myself to a speed run. Wrote this in under an hour. So, be weary of any issues with continuity. I hope you enjoy it, anyway!

Based on an Imagine by @imagine-loki.

=

Loki let out a weary sigh as he fell backwards onto the creaky, uncomfortable single bed. His feet peeked more than a few inches off the bottom, though his head was nearly flush to the headboard. In another life, he would have grumbled about the furnishings not being lush enough, the bed not cradling him in near weightlessness. Right now, he was just happy it was supporting his weight after that hasty repair last week.

It was no matter; he slept in a ball anyway. If he slept.

“I actually might tonight,” he muttered to himself.

The more he rested, the more he became aware of the ache in his fingers and the sting of his raw knuckles. Though years ago those injuries might have befallen him from battle, or a spar, today his pains came from scrubbing a floor clean on his hands and knees. Loki was no longer that god burdened with glorious purpose. He was just another mortal with a couple of thousand years head-start on life. After Odin’s swift (but not entirely merciful) judgement following the disaster in New York, he had been stripped of nearly every morsel of magic in his veins and hand-delivered to Neighborhood Pals, an organization designed to do tasks for those in need.

Carl had been his first assignee, helping him around the rec room of the community center. The man, bent in his old age had not been much of a fuss. In fact, Loki found that he liked talking to old codger, as irritatingly perceptive as he was.

Which was why when he went to drop off some groceries after not seeing him in the community center for a few days, and seen the lived-in grime of the floors, rotten food in the pantry and soiled linens stacked high, Loki had nearly snapped. He demanded to know why his family was not taking care of him better. Carl said that his daughter used to take care of him, but trailed off before he had relayed a full explanation. It had not taken Loki more a minute to piece it together. His daughter was dead and it was his fault. And so, he took his frustration and rage on every square inch of the property until it gleamed.

The trilling mobile in his pocket made Loki groaned. Fishing through the pocket of his trousers, he pulled the damn thing out and answered without glancing at the ID. Only one person ever called him.

“Yes?”

“Hello to you, too, Sourpuss.”

Loki groaned once more. Having Stark as liaison between Odin and the tasks he was assigned was hell. He supposed it was even more irritating because Stark had not even had the decency to be short with him this entire time and that annoyed Loki to no end. It was hard to find hatred when you were given nothing to work with. Loki sighed, sitting up and running his free hand over his shortened locks–a parting gift from some Asgardian guards that Frigga had to fix, later. The little tuft of hair at the top was reminiscent of when he was much younger.

“I was just going to inform you that Carl left a really nice review on your work today. What did you do, take him to see the hot babes?”

“Got him drunk and high. I’m surprised he didn’t die of an overdose,” he replied after a long while. Tony guffawed down the line. Loki nowadays was all bark and no bite, he would say.

“Well, I have your schedule for tomorrow. I’m going to send you an address and you will be there at 9 am, sharp.”

“And after?”

“Nope, she’s your whole day. Name’s Charlie and she is blind, so be extra careful with sudden movements.” Loki hummed his assent and hung up. Sometime later, sleep overtook him.

…

It was 8:59a when he rapped on the door. “Neighborhood pal.” He felt ridiculous every time he announced his presence that way, but it was required of him, per Tony’s rules. A lot of the time people were convalescent, and couldn’t physically get the doors themselves  They needed a warning before Loki simply let himself inside.

Just beyond the door, there was movement and quiet muttering. Loki waited with bated breath for the sounds to come nearer, and instead was rewarded by a large crash and a muffled goddammit. Loki tried the doorknob to find it unlocked, and he pushed the door in, immediately gasping.

On the floor, surrounded by glass was a woman, on her knees. She was wearing mismatching purple jeans with an orange top that seemed to be inside out. Her feet were bare and it looked like she attempted a plait on her long brown hair and grew frustrated, halfway through. Next to her was an overturned coffee table from where the glass had come from and she tried to find purchase for her hands on the floor to leverage herself up and succeeding only in getting shards stuck in her palms.

“Stop!” Loki’s voice barely traveled over the sound of her gasping sobs. “Stop, I’ll help you up.” He stepped over some larger pieces of what he thought was a vase and put his hand on her shoulder, where she immediately flinched away.

“Get off me!”

Loki fought the urge to step backwards. He wanted to leave, somehow convince himself that it was in everyone’s best interest… but there was glass all around and she looked small and helpless.

“Sorry. Sorry. Should’ve warned you. I’m going to pull you up. Do not plant your feet.” Loki wrapped an arm around her torso and plucked her straight off the ground. His strength came in handy sometimes, and with a few short steps, he had deposited her on a soft grey sofa. “Don’t touch your face. You have glass in your hands. Let me clean this up and I’ll pull it out in a moment.”

He noticed she was struggling to stop her empty gaze on where she thought he might be. They were a beautiful shade of hazel, he also noted, that wouldn’t see another single sunset because of him. Tears ran tracks down her tanned skin, though she had stopped sobbing. Now, she only looked irritated? Disgusted? Angry?

“Do all monsters have such soft voices?”

Loki’s breath hitched. Definitely angry. And so skilled at finding the wound and prodding. “I’ll be back to pull the glass, Charlie.”

Wordlessly, he retreated. After a little digging, he found a broom and swept up the broken glass, righted the coffee table and tidied up the area, every so often glancing over his shoulder to look at Charlie. She seemed uncertain about moving from the spot he dropped her in, fearing another accident if she ventured further. She did, however, fiddle with her hands, grasping bits of crystal and pulling them from her skin.

“I found the Aiding kit,” he announced quietly, coming to kneel before her. “You shouldn’t pick at your hands. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Charlie scoffed. “What? Will I put my eye out? Will I be reduced to a whimpering child who can’t remember where her coffee table is anymore? Will I be forced to live off of Tony Stark’s charity because I can’t work anymore? Stop me when you hear the right reason, by the way.”

He stuttered dumbly before he found his words. “I-I am sorry.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m magically cured!” She gestured her surroundings. “All I needed was the most insincere apology on Earth from the vilest creature to have ever roamed it. Now I’m all good!”

The words and her tone stung, he had to admit. Most people avoided talking to Loki about the attack–it seemed to be human nature to avoid the pain of conflict. One or two people were angry and gave Loki an earful before he was allowed to do his work, but Charlie had been the first to actually hurt him. He was a monster. This wasn’t enough. He didn’t know how to fix it.

Loki thanked his lucky stars for one small miracle: her lack of vision meant she couldn’t see the tears that beaded onto his eyelashes. He cleared his throat, reaching for her hands. To her credit, she didn’t even flinch and he turned them palm-side up on her lap to pull jagged pieces of transparent glass out of the shallow scratches with a pair of tweezers. Her eyes had finally (though possibly not on purpose) fallen onto him and her blank gaze stayed unerringly glued to his form as if she were cataloguing him. He felt strangely pinned down by her stare.

After wiping down her palms with an antiseptic wipe, he allowed Charlie pull her hands away from his grip. The barest corner of her mouth curled in a half-snarl, clearly annoyed about having had to rely on her own personal demon for help.

“I apologize for the rough introduction–”

“Rough introduction was when you soared over the city in a battle cruiser with the hopes to enslave us. I don’t think a smile and good customer service would do much to change that, Loki.” Loki opened his mouth to interject a defense, but was cut off before any words formed. “I had a life and a job and a boyfriend. I could fucking see! You are only here because Stark insisted I do this, but how you can think that doing a few chores will ever amount to the damage you did is beyond me! Save your goddamn apologies. I don’t want them.”

The muscles on the back on his thighs were screaming from being kept in that squatting position for so long. Loki, however, found he could not move; scared stiff, as it were. The only thing he could do was stare helplessly into the wide-eyed anger before him, taking care not to distract himself on the freckles over her nose, and blink away the fresh wave of tears brewing at the corners of his eyes. Loki sniffed and her brow furrowed into a deep frown.

“Are you crying?” Charlie’s tone was halfway between irritation and disbelief.

“No, of course not.”

Her fingers jabbed him indelicately on his cheekbone. A little more traveling and they were skimming his closed eyes. He sighed as she drew them away, dampened in tears. “Oh, it has feelings.”

“Yes, it has been a surprise to everyone, including myself,” he riposted somewhat sarcastically, shoving the gnawing guilt to the back of his mind. Charlie chuckled under her breath despite herself. “Let me help you.” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper. Order the monster around.“ She seemed hesitant at his turn of phrase, though it had been her who had used the name, in the first place. "Have you eaten yet? How about we start there?”

Without waiting for an answer, he stood and made for the kitchen. It was organized, though showed signs of misuse, as well as a small scorch mark on one of the counters. Apparently Charlie had tried to cook before giving up on the endeavor all together. Loki put some coffee on, and bread in the toaster, before fetching butter and jam from the refrigerator. He made a face at the contents–he would need to clean it out and buy new groceries before the day was out; something she could quickly consume.

Charlie shuffling off the couch pulled his attention. He watched as she stumbled around the coffee table again. That would need a new place to live. She seemed unsure of her steps, but was doing well to keeping to the clear space of the living room and kitchen. A growl sprang forth from her lips as she pawed the air, likely looking for the kitchen island just ahead.

“Three steps forward, two steps left,” Loki supplied, not wanting to interfere. If she was going to live on her own, she was going to have to learn the lay of the land. “Mind your feet, there’ll be a barstool right when you reach the countertop.”

“This is exhausting.”

“I think we just need to clear out some of the hurdles. You’ve got lovely knickknacks, but you need open space where you’re not afraid to run into anything.” He buttered the perfectly toasted bread and smeared a thin layer of raspberry jam atop. He lay the slices on a plate and slid it in front of Charlie while he poured coffee. “Arms’ reach. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black,” she replied, distractedly. Charlie placed her hands on the counter and slid them gently over the surface until they bumped against the plate. When she held the toast and took a bite, she made a sound like she was starving. It took the noise for Loki to see the slightly sunken quality of her face.

“Charlie, when’s the last time you ate?”

She slowed down her chewing, jaw tensing at the question. “I’m doing fine on my own.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.” There was no response from across the counter, and so Loki dug his hand into his trouser pocket to find his mobile. The other end of the line picked up immediately. “Stark, I need a favor.” He covered the mouthpiece on his phone and leaned forward. “I’ll be right back. Mind the coffee, it is still very hot.”

…

“Charlotte Camden, what the ever-living fuck!?” Tony had just burst in through the front door of Charlie’s apartment. Loki had just finished putting away a boatload of glass and porcelain decorations into a box in Charlie’s closet. He had pushed furniture to the sides and organized her closet by colors, to avoid being mismatched.

Charlie, who had been sitting on the floor “supervising”, turned towards Loki with eerie precision and glared. “You snitched on me?”

“This isn’t about Reindeer Games, Charlie. Have you or have you not refused the last three food deliveries sent to you?”

“Tony–”

“Have you or have you not? It’s a yes or no question.”

Her fists opened and closed with restraint. It was clear she wanted the option to storm out, but lacked the ability. “I didn’t want to do this stupid program in the first place!”

Tony scoffed. “Great! So what was the plan? Starve to death? Get hit by a car trying to get to the corner bodega?”

“Yes!” Tony instinctively stepped backwards at the roar. “I don’t want to live like this, Stark. How would having him here be of any help?”

Loki felt his skin crawl as Tony turned his attentive eyes towards him. His own jade orbs were fixated on a spot on the hardwood that was slightly discolored compared to the rest. The same thoughts echoed in his head. He was a monster. This wasn’t enough. He didn’t know how to fix it.

“Tony, he’s a monster." He was a monster. "This will never be enough." This wasn’t enough. "There’s no way to fix this." He didn’t know how to fix it.

"Come on, Charlie. He’s trying his best here,” Tony whispered, taking a knee in front of her. “He’s been working really hard to try to make up for what he’s done.” Charlie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout. “Let me call Ben. Maybe he can reason with you.”

“Ben left, Tony.” There was something broken about the way she said those three words.

“What do you mean? When?”

“Three weeks ago. It’s OK. He left a note. Because I can read that, right?” Her head turned towards Loki’s general vicinity. “It’s on my bedside table, if you’re curious.”

Slipping quietly backward, he went into Charlie’s bedroom. On the bedside table a piece of paper looked as if it had been folded and unfolded several dozen times. It was crinkled and smudged, as if constantly stroked. His fingers snatched it off the table and he brought it up to his eyes.

Charlie,

I don’t know how you do this. I don’t know how, after everything that’s happened, you can even think of taking his side. Loki is a monster and he doesn’t deserve a single iota of kindness or consideration you’ve shown him. You should have demanded his death, not his rehabilitation. He’s ruined yours and countless others’ lives and you just walk around with your “we don’t know the whole story”.

Well, I know my story. And I love you, but this life wasn’t what I signed up for. We had plans and they’ve all gone up in smoke. I can’t do this anymore.

Goodbye.

Ben

Rage roiled in the pit of his stomach, equal measures for this Ben person as it was for himself. He had well and truly fucked this woman’s life. And she had defended him. And it cost her everything.

Loki caught his breath, though he hadn’t noticed when he started panting. Forcing himself back into the living room, he watched Stark glance up in his direction before scowling. The man had patted Charlie on the shoulder and got to his feet, intent on meeting Loki in the middle. Instead, Loki shoved the note into Stark’s chest and continued over to where Charlie sat.

Sensing his presence, she raised her face to him, eyes struggling for a place to focus upon. His hands rested on her shoulders and she tensed, fists clenching. When he pulled her into his chest, her hands occupied themselves with beating at his chest, his stomach, his arms–anywhere she could reach. He remained still, teeth clenched against the pain. He welcomed the sting and the bruises that would inevitably follow. Anything if it took away her pain.

“Keep going. I know you have more in you,” he whispered. Charlie hesitated, tears starting to leak out of the corner of her clenched eyes before punching him again. “Go on. I signed up for this.” A breathless sob jarred her chest and echoed into his own. Her arms, tired and aching, twined around his middle and squeezed for all she was worth. “I promise you, I signed up for this.”

[lovelyirony]

this is just a re-do of a post with a prompt from anonymous, so don’t worry if it looks a bit familiar! 

As Bucky is running away from government agents trying to snipe him for killing a politician, he supposes Natasha’s argument for him being suicidal might have the tiniest bit evidence behind it, which he previously argued it didn’t.

As he slides underneath a car, he debates whether or not she’ll find out about this one. He feels a buzz from his phone in his pocket.

Yeah, she knows.

He shoots one of the agents, nicking him in the knee. Oof, that’s gonna be a fun story to tell his grandkids about why they can’t climb on his lap. But he needs to get away, and that involves potentially shooting through a car.

Potentially turns into definitely and there’s enough of a distraction that he can commandeer a car, drive at least ten blocks away, and ditch it to run on foot, calling Natasha.

“You got my location, right?”

“Of course, you fucking idiot,” Natasha curses. “You…god I hate you sometimes. The job’s at least done, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to lay low, though. Which sucks because my apartment is right in the city.”

“I already have a punishment and idea for you in one.”

“I…what is it?”

“Sam’s picking you up. Tell you when you get to base. Bye.”

Bucky groans.

She must be really pissed at him.

Sam picks him up in the shittiest economy car in the world.

“I hate you for picking this one,” Bucky groans.

“A stupid decision grants a stupid car, that’s why you’re getting picked up in the 1995 Ford Fiesta of shame,” Sam says. “Nat’s real mad. And I also think you’re going to hate your next assignment.”

Bucky’s not sure what’s gonna happen. He’s hoping he’s not on latrine duty.

-

Oh, it’s so much worse.

“Protection detail?” Bucky asks. “And undercover? All at once? Nat, come on. I bet we don’t even need undercover.”

“You both are doing undercover because you both fucked up,” Natasha says. “And since apparently you don’t know how to act, maybe this will get you better lessons.”

“Cold,” Sam hisses.

“I will legally ask you to shut the fuck up,” Bucky growls out.

He packs his things. Realizes that Sam got to choose the name so his name is Roger Stevens. Fucking shit. (Steve, of course, approved this. Because Steve is an asshole.)

“Why does she even need a protector?” Bucky growls out, driving to the house. It’s in suburbia.

“Because she fucked up and whoever she pissed off might send more than she can handle,” Natasha says.

“We’re hinging my being here on a ‘maybe’?”

“And because you got caught by government agents, which would be a rookie move,” Natasha says. “There’s a reason that I can still go my same nail salon for five years and now you have to get your hair cut somewhere else. And why you got a wedding china set and you have a backstory of being married.”

“I hate you.”

“A lot of people do, take a number.”

If it helps (and it mostly doesn’t), Sharon Carter is also not happy. She is in the house with the most dangerous look Bucky has seen.

“So I’m stuck in this fucking hell house with him?” Sharon asks.

Maria Hill is her boss. Woman is a scary, competent human. Bucky wouldn’t cross her.

(Then again, you also shouldn’t cross a certain redhead who could make you disappear within twenty minutes, maybe thirty if it’s a surprise. But he did.)

“Keys are by the front door, hope you know your address! Bye!” Natasha says. “Don’t kill each other or we lose the deposit!”

Maria Hill smiles. Of course the only time Bucky’s ever seen her smile is at the suffering of others. How typical.

So then they are left alone.

“Let’s read the cover story,” Sharon says. “And I don’t need protection, Maria’s just paranoid.”

Bucky snorts.

“Yeah, okay, let’s go with that.”

Sharon sends him a sharp look.

They meet while on a cruise.

Bucky fucking hates his life.

“A fucking cruise,” he mutters. “As if I would ever step foot onto any of those fucking–”

“We had a beach wedding?!” Sharon cries out. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it!”

They are both in a bad mood.

It’s also awkward because this is a house. They have decorations. They have tea towels.

And a neighbor comes to visit.

“Welcome to the neighborhood!” she says brightly. “My name is Karen Tent, so lovely to meet you both!”

She then invades the house with her Tupperware. Literally speeds past them and it’s not like Sharon judo-chop her throat or anything.

“What a lovely house you two have!” Karen cheers. “Of course the color palette is a little bit drab, but I’m sure you’ll change that soon enough. When Linda told me we had new neighbors, I could hardly believe it myself, but here you are! Now, how did you two meet? Have you married yet? If not, I hope that you are living apart, you know.”

“The rings are in boxes,” Sharon answers smoothly, noting that they’ll need to ask Maria where the fuck the rings are. “You know how move-ins are. I’m Melanie Stevens, this is Roger Stevens. How nice to see you so very unexpectedly.”

“Well, that’s what neighbors are for!” Karen answers, her voice shrill as ever. “I brought over my famous cookie bars. Everyone says they’re good, and I believe they always are. Tell me Melanie, what do you like baking most?”

“Yes dear, tell her,” Bucky answers, smiling. “I seem to remember…lemon bars?”

“That’s right,” Sharon says, sending Bucky a smile. “They are really good. Just delightful.”

“Oh you’ll have to bring some over!” Karen responds. “Now, let me tell you a little bit about the neighborhood…”

She talks for a fucking hour. Bucky wants to drink. So badly. He saw the wine on the counter.

Sharon, to her credit, keeps trying to use certain “end” phrases. Karen either knows it and knows she won’t be budging, or will not ever take a hint in her lifetime.

“And you simply must not ever play loud music in your backyard,” Karen says. “We’ve had a couple of problems with the Richardsons, but nothing a few calls won’t fix.”

“You called the police?” Sharon asks.

“Well yes!”

“Oh my god,” Bucky mutters.

“I am sure that’s not exactly the measure I would have done,” Sharon says. “But I am tired and don’t want to get into it now,” she says quickly, noticing Karen’s “confused” expression.

“I say we need some time to rest, today is gonna be a lot of moving,” he says. “So nice of you to stop by, Karen. I’ll return your dish as soon as possible.”

Karen is ushered out the door, placated with two waves, and they both groan.

“I’m gonna fucking hate everything after this,” Sharon mutters. “My name is fucking Melanie. Maria knows…” she trails off, facing the very real boxes that were obviously packed with dishes and miscellaneous items.

Bucky finds four spatulas. He doesn’t know why there are four.

“What the fuck,” he mutters, noting the incredibly cheesy salt-and-pepper set.

“Welcome to married life,” Sharon says sarcastically. “We’re gonna have a blast.”

Dinner is spent with Sharon trying to convince Bucky that she’s “fine” and in “no danger” at all.

“Who did you piss off?”

“Sitwell.”

“Oh my god. You’re screwed.”

“He’s a lapdog, I’m not screwed.”

“He’s the lapdog of Pierce. You’re screwed.”

Sharon thunks her head on the table.

“Can we at least repaint the bedrooms? They suck.”

“If you think I’m sleeping in a separate room you’re dead wrong,” Bucky says. “You have a target the size of New York on your back. Uh-uh.”

“You will sleep on the floor and get out when I shower or change,” Sharon threatens.

“Of course.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

Married life is not so bad. Except when Karen and the rest of the neighbors tend to visit or talk to them for about fifteen minutes on the lawn.

“It’s your turn to cut the grass,” Sharon groans, flopping on the couch. “If I have to hear Kevin tell me one more time that you should be treating me better, I’m going to explode. He’s trying to lecture me on how to cut grass.”

“On it,” Bucky says. “Your turn to go get groceries, I ran into Karen and her kid last time. I think she wants me to stop buying so much hummus.”

“Not our fault it’s good,” Sharon mutters.

-

And then, of course, avoiding the various assassins that are sent out at random intervals and at public locations (including their own house) while convincing the neighbors that there’s nothing going on.

This involves pretending an agent of Hydra is their cousin.

“This is Jen, she’s visiting for the day!” Sharon says, squeezing “Jen’s” wrist hard enough to make her stay quiet. “We have so much to catch up on, you probably won’t see me or–or Roger again for the day! Ha ha!”

“Well where’s her car?” Linda asks, looking around the neighborhood. “I don’t see anything…”

“She’s a hippie environmentalist, she walked,” Bucky answers. “Jen, let’s go catch up in the house, yeah?”

“Yeah,” the agent squeaks out sadly, knowing exactly what is going to happen.

She’s delivered tied up in rope on the steps of Maria’s office with a note of “please stop this from happening we’re planting azaleas.”

Maria snorts.

Bucky starts to think they’re getting too attached to this. It’s been four months.

He started a garden. They’re growing tomatoes.

He also notices Sharon a little bit differently.

Because she drags him out of bed.

“Legally? You have to go to brunch with me. Illegally? You like the breakfast burrito too much.”

She’s scarily competent with anything that could be classed as a weapon. Or their groceries.

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky yells at her as she throws the jar of tomato sauce. “I am not cleaning that up!”

“Tough shit!” Sharon answers, dodging a bullet. “It wasn’t even the good kind of tomato sauce!”

“It was fine, sweetheart!” Bucky growls out.

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me in the middle of a battle!” Sharon yells. “Strictly after!”

“You’re the weirdest fucking married couple,” one of the agents wheezes out as Bucky is holding him as a sort of shield.

“Thanks,” they say in unison, grinning.

-

The punishment for them both doesn’t exactly turn out as planned, both Natasha and Maria agree. In fact, it is almost worse.

They are both reckless, subvert orders, and get along like a house on fire by the end of it.

“You can still be together, we just need the house back,” Natasha says.

“Thank god,” Bucky groans. “I get to stop being Roger and I get rid of Karen in one fell swoop.”

Sharon untenses her shoulders while she’s sitting at the kitchen table.

“Can I keep the knife set?”

“No,” Maria says. “I’ll send you a link to where I got it.”

“Why can’t I keep it if you can get another set?”

“Steal it,” Bucky stage-whispers. Sharon grins back at him.

“You have the best ideas, babe.”

“You are not stealing anything,” Maria scowls.

“Sure we aren’t,” Bucky says easily.

“You stole my heart,” Sharon sing-songs, knowing damn well it’s going to make Maria barf.

“Aw babe…” Bucky says, holding her hand. Natasha fake-retches.

“I hate you both,” she declares. “And I won’t be there for your actual wedding.”

“You made us tell people we had a wedding on a beach, were you assuming that you were getting an invitation?” Bucky asks.

Sharon snickers, getting the last of her bags out into the car.

“Where to now?” she asks him.

“I think that there are some apartments we can look at…”

-

“We’ve made a collective monster,” Maria decides, blinking. “We Frankensteined this.”

“We did,” Natasha says, staring at the house. There are still little bits of glass. An unfortunately busted can of beans where someone had been knocked out and they had “conveniently” forgotten to clean it up from yesterday.

Well. Sharon and Bucky are going to cause havoc on the world. Maria and Natasha just hope they can cover the other while doing so.

[barrysjumpsuit]

the dark side - jj maybank x shoupe’s daughter, ch. 2

w/c: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of domestic abuse

summary:  catherine shoupe has the perfect life. when she gets hired by heyward to run groceries, she has a new coworker - jj maybank. as the deputy’s daughter, she can’t help but hate him. but when jj decides to bring her to the dark side and woo her over, cat not only has to hide her activities from her father, but learn who her father really is.

a/n: this is mainly character development (with plenty of JJ), angst and fluff to come next chapter :-) for the first chapter my tags weren’t working, so if you haven’t read it, you can read chapter 1 here

----

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, and Pope was quickly in between the two of them.

“Can we not?” he addressed both of them, exasperated. “At least not in front of my dad.”

Cat rolled her eyes, moving to the side of the boat to push off the dock while JJ sauntered to the steering wheel. 

Maybe this was a bad choice. Lane three sounded nice right now. She tried to push her thoughts away as she sat on the back of the boat.

Pope sat down next to her, and they sat silently until he spoke. “You know, Cat, he was a kid back then.”

“He still said and did that stuff though,” she grumbled, picking at the frayed hems of her denim shorts. “And nothing has changed since then.”

She remembered that day well. Back when she went to the same middle school as Pope and JJ and the rest of their crew. It was the age when kids become cliquey, and start to push boundaries. Cat had always been the girl whose dad was a cop, and when she was younger, it was cool. He would do talks at her school. Her classmates’ attitudes changed once she hit middle school. Kids were becoming more in tune with their parents’ perspectives on cops, and they started getting trouble as well. In a place like the Outer Banks, although it is paradise on Earth, kids got bored.

Kids like JJ. He had always had a troubled life in addition to a smart mouth and loose lips.

She overheard him one day, talking about how his father would beat his mother. Cat felt like it was her obligation to tell her dad and, after enough pestering and begging from her, he agreed to look into it.

A few days later, JJ had decked her across the face with a solid right hook. He yelled at her, awful things about how her father was destroying families and lives and that she was too dumb to see it.

A month later, his mother left them in the middle of the night.

The two of them hadn’t associated since. Cat’s dad brought him up sometimes. “JJ stole another box of condoms from the Dollar General.” “JJ got into another fight at the Boneyard.” “Someone saw JJ stumbling down main street drunk.”

Ever since his mother left, JJ’s mischief escalated.

Cat looked over at him, piloting the boat. His back was to her, and he was leaning against the side of the cabin, gazing out onto the water, his loose hair fluttering in the same breeze that rustled the grocery bags. 

JJ looked over towards her, his icy blue gaze chilling her despite the warm air. Looking away, she trained her eyes on her feet.

“Brr,” Pope said, as if reading her mind.

“He can apologize to me,” Cat decided, thinking out loud. Part of her hoped her words were lost in the wind, so that JJ didn’t hear them. Another part of her hoped he heard.

Pope just sighed before they launched into small talk the rest of the short ride to Figure Eight. It didn’t take long; JJ pulled the boat up beside the dock while Cat jumped onto the worn wood, clipping the boat in at the stern and tying it at the bow.

As Pope and JJ handed the groceries down to her, she noticed that JJ’s gaze was intense and lingering. Purposefully avoiding it, once the last of the groceries were unloaded, she picked up the bags and started walking down the dock to the Thompson’s house.

The boys eventually caught up to her, and they delivered the groceries, Mrs. Thompson slipping each of them a $20 bill as a tip.

“Is this a normal thing?” Cat asked, holding up the money as soon as they were on their way back to the boat.

“Sure is,” Pope said.

“The more good looking you are, the more they tip,” JJ said, peering at Cat over his sunglasses and pretending to lick the money. It was crumpled up from being shoved in his pocket.

The three of them finished up six more deliveries that day. The sun was setting as they docked at Heyward’s. Cat’s skin was reddened from the sun, her hair sticking to her face with sweat. Her interaction with JJ hadn’t been any more than a couple brief exchanges. Luckily, Pope seemed to stick to Cat’s side and JJ kept to himself.

Dinner was just being put on the table as Cat got home, and she didn’t bother cleaning up before sitting down. Her parents flooded her with questions about her new job. She told them about Pope, but not about JJ.

----

The first week of work had passed uneventfully. Most days she worked with JJ, but a couple of days, it was just her and Pope. JJ hadn’t addressed the tension between them, and Cat sure as hell wasn’t going to make the first move. He largely ignored her when they worked, which she was fine with.

She decided she liked the job well enough. She made good money with the pay raise and tips, and she could work on her tan, rolling up the sleeves of her work t-shirts and knotting them at the bottom while she was on the boat for a little extra breeze and exposed skin. 

Cat and JJ had just finished their last delivery of the day. The sun was slowly dropping down towards the horizon, casting everything in deep shadows and a golden glow. She definitely couldn’t help but notice JJ’s hair, tousled by the wind of the day, and how it caught the evening rays of sunlight as he disconnected the gas can from the boat.

End of the day checks usually went pretty quickly. There was a checklist kept on board that Cat went over, and she held it while she locked up the cabin of the boat.

JJ’s voice sounded from behind her. “Kitty Cat…” 

“Don’t call me that,” she interrupted, not looking up from what she was doing and maneuvering the padlock so that she could lock the door.

“...I’ve blamed you, you know. This whole time.”

JJ’s words made Cat stop going through the checklist. “Excuse me?”

“Fuck the checklist,” he said, pulling it from her hands and tossing it on the table in the middle of the boat. Did JJ want to get real with her? The look on his face said yes: the way his blue eyes were hard yet soft, the way his jaw was clenched, the way his fists were balled up. 

Cat raised her chin to meet his gaze before he continued.

“I’ve blamed you for the past five years. For everything.”

“That’s not very ni-”

“Shut the fuck up and let me talk,” he burst, bringing his hands up and waving them in a frenzy. Cat took a step back at the movement, and JJ’s face dropped. “Cat, I-”

She turned and walked away, but she could only walk a few feet until she was sitting on the side of the boat. JJ sighed, then went to sit next to her. He was silent for a few moments before speaking. “I’d like to talk things out between us. Want to get dinner?”

“My parents are expecting me home for dinner,” she replied, not looking at him. He sighed, moving slightly.

“Oh. Yeah. Of course,” he said quietly. “I forgot people do that kind of thing.”

His words hurt. She felt stabbing pangs of guilt inside her.

Almost without realizing, Cat picked up her phone, dialing her father.

“Hey Cat, what’s up?” he answered, the sound muffled. She heard the clicking of a turn signal in the background.

“Hey dad, I’m not going to be able to make it home for dinner tonight. We’re flooded with orders at work and have to do some late runs.”

“Alright sweetie, just text me when you’re on your way home, okay? We’ll save you some leftovers.”

“Thanks dad, love you.”

“Love you too, Cat. Be careful on the water tonight.”

At that, Cat hung up, meeting JJ’s eyes for the first time. He raised his eyebrows at her. 

“Where are we going, Maybank?” she asked, and a grin spread across his face.

Half an hour later, they were seated on the back patio of The Wreck, JJ claiming the Carreras gave him a “best friend discount”. They ordered, then sat in an awkward silence, Cat waiting for JJ to speak up.

“I’m sorry I hit you that one time,” he said suddenly, pulling Cat’s eyes up to meet his intense gaze. “I never should have done that. You were worried about me. You were trying to help. I never got to thank you for that.”

“I’m sorry I made your business mine,” she replied quietly. Cat was absently messing with the paper straw wrapper, folding it and ripping it. “I guess I just… felt like I had to.”

JJ was nodding, clearly thinking about her words and how to respond. 

“I shouldn’t have blamed you like I did,” he said finally, giving her a tight smile. “It was just a lot. At the time. It’s still a lot.”

“Want to talk about it?” she asked, and JJ looked up from his drink, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re kidding,” he said, his voice flat.

“I won’t tell my dad. I promise.”

JJ smiled, which turned into a laugh, dimples cratering his cheeks and his hair falling in his face. Behind him, the sun was almost set, only the faintest of oranges lighting up the otherwise dark sky.

“This is a conversation for another day, kitty Cat,” he said, sitting back in his chair. His eyes flicked towards the interior of the restaurant, and Cat turned to follow his gaze. She saw Kiara inside, gesturing wildly and mouthing words at JJ, but stopped and smiled and waved as she noticed Cat looking back.

“Are you sure you’re okay though?” she asked, looking back at him.

He laughed again. “I’m fine. Trust me.” There was an awkward pause. “We cool now?”

“I’m cool if you’re cool,” she replied, taking a sip of her lemonade and raising her eyebrows at him.

“Well, if you’re cool then I’m cool.” She smiled at his play on her words. 

“We’re cool, then.”

“Cool as cucumbers.”

They burst into a fit of laughter as Kiara arrived with their food. “I’m not even gonna ask,” she said, shaking her head, visibly confused. She set the chicken sandwich down in front of Cat before handing JJ his food, whacking him on the head with her serving plate before heading back inside. 

“You two still good friends?” she asked, picking up a sweet potato fry. JJ was in the middle of attacking his burger.

“Very,” he said around his food, and Cat made a face at his manners. She shouldn’t have expected anything less from JJ. “We ‘ang out almost every day.”

“You what?” she asked, grinning, leaning forward on the table, her elbows pressed against the soft wood. “Can you repeat that?”

“We hang,” he said, and a piece of mashed-up food flew out of his mouth as he stressed the word. “H-A-N-G.”

“That’s what I thought, thanks for specifying,” she teased before taking a bite of her chicken sandwich.”

“You should come hang with us sometime,” JJ said, once again carefully pronouncing the word.

Cat almost choked at the proposition, realizing he was serious, but made a point by carefully and thoroughly chewing her food before answering, making direct eye contact the whole time. JJ quickly caught on, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows, waiting for her answer.

“Maybe,” she concluded.

“Your dad tell you horror stories about us?” JJ’s words were nonchalant. He leaned back, tossing a fry into his mouth, expecting an answer.

“Mainly about you,” she replied, taking another bite.

“Me?” he asked, and she nodded. “Well, I’m flattered. What would he think about you and I here, now?”

“‘e’d ‘ate it,” she said, holding a hand over her mouth, catching herself as she spoke with her mouth full.

A wicked grin spread across JJ’s face. “What’d you say there, kitty Cat?”

“He would hate it! He’d disown me!” she laughed, and JJ smiled back at her. 

“Unfortunately, I think that’s the truth,” he said. Cat hung her head in agreement, and the conversation died.

They ate, and Cat was almost done with her meal when JJ broke the silence. “Does he know we work together?”

She shook her head. “He’s bound to find out eventually, though.”

“Can I ask something else?”

“Sure.”

“Do you associate with any other Pogues?”

“No, aside from you and Pope,” she replied, her voice soft. Cat didn’t have to think about her answer. “I mean… I don’t associate with too many people. I have a few good friends. A bunch of Kook families really kiss ass to my family, I guess so the cops stay away from them and whatever they do. My dad hardly even lets me drive through the Cut when I want to surf down there or anything like that.”

JJ nodded, his eyes fixed on the table. 

“You associate with any Kooks?” she asked, turning the question onto him.

“Kie,” he said. “I mow some lawns. Kiss some asses,” he added, winking. “But no, they don’t exactly welcome me over there.”

It was Cat’s turn to nod in response, not able to think of any words that could break the heaviness of the topic.

Luckily, Kiara arrived to take their plates. “One check,” Cat said, and Kiara’s eyes grew wide, looking from Cat, to JJ, then back to Cat.

“Get that smirk off your face, JJ,” she sighed, turning and leaving.

“What’s that smirk for?” Cat pressed, smiling. 

“Nothin’,” JJ replied, shrugging dramatically, his smirk softening into a smile. Cat rolled her eyes, and Kiara returned quickly with the check.

“I’ll drive you home,” Cat proposed, leaving $25 in cash with the check. They stood and began down the steps from the deck to where Cat’s car was parked.

JJ quickly shot her offer down. “My dad isn’t good at forgiving people, kitty Cat. I’ll walk, it’s not far.”

“Oh- okay.” 

“Thanks for dinner tonight. I’ll make it up to you sometime.”

“JJ Maybank? Offering me, a Kook, repayment? That’s a shocker.”

“I’m not all what your dad makes me out to be,” he said, walking backwards away from her. “There’s more than what meets the eye, and that goes for everyone, including your father. Come hang with us sometime, I’ll get you out of your bubble, kitty Cat”

“What do you mean?” she asked, but by the time the words left her mouth, JJ had turned and was jogging away.

---

taglist  @letsgofullkook @stargazingstarkey @sortagaysortahigh @jjsmentalpolaroids @ims0golden @jjmaybcnks​ @shawnssongs​ @queenk00k @broken-jj​  @danielle-yeah​ @wicked-laugh​ @obxhoe​ @talksoprettyjjx​ @kt219567​ @abrunettefangirlnerd​ @apoguecalledjj​

[heartofether]

Episode 16 - Lorelei TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

VAL

Warning: This episode contains discussions and descriptions of child abuse, and may not be suitable for all audiences. For exact time stamps and a full list of content warnings, please check the show notes. We suggest you check the content warnings regardless, since this is a bit of an intense episode, and contains instances of panic attacks, screaming, and violence. Listener discretion is advised.

AUTOMATED VOICE

[VERY SLOWED DOWN] Please state your message.

[THEME SONG PLAYS.]

VAL

Three-eyed Frog Presents: The Heart of Ether.

[THEME SONG FADES TO A STOP.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT./EXT. OUTSIDE OF LORELEI FOSTER’S HOUSE, DAYTIME.]

[THE SOUND OF A RAVEN CAWING IS HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND.]

AGENT JUNE

Jeez, this place smells like a zoo.

AGENT MAY

I need to introduce the recording. Interview with Lorelei Foster, at her home. Part of Operation Saturn, phase 1.2. Conducted by Agents May and June. All— [CUTTING HIMSELF OFF] June, hey, stay in the car!

[AS HE TALKS, AGENT JUNE IS HEARD OPENING THE CAR DOOR AND STARTING TO STEP OUT.]

AGENT JUNE

What? Come on, dude, I’m getting impatient.

AGENT MAY

We’ll go up to her door in a minute. There’s just—I need to ask you something first.

AGENT JUNE

Oh. Why didn’t you just say so?

[HE CLIMBS BACK INTO THE CAR, CLOSING THE DOOR. AGENT MAY SIGHS.]

AGENT MAY

[SLIGHTLY NERVOUS] You are aware of the case of Lorelei Foster, correct?

AGENT JUNE

Uh, obviously. She was a part of some coven and they all went missing except for her. She moved to this house way outside of town and refused to show her face.

AGENT MAY

Well, under the naming conventions of Valencia and Wood, the Foundation believes that Lorelei Foster is what is known as a “Beastly.” What she could be capable of—it’s not something to play around with. Okay? She could be dangerous. Not deadly, per say, but still potentially devastating in her power.

AGENT JUNE

[PANICKED SARCASM] Wow, that’s super comforting, Agent May.

AGENT MAY

Just don’t say or do anything stupid, alright? Also, if when we see her, she looks, you know, different, don’t comment on it. Act like you don’t even notice.

AGENT JUNE

That’s all? Well, don’t worry about it, then. I’ve never judged a book by its cover. I’ll just stand there and act as well-behaved as I always do.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] That’s what I feared.

[THEY BOTH GET OUT OF THE CAR AND WALK UP TO HER FRONT DOOR. IT'S A LOVELY DAY OUTSIDE, WITH BIRDS CHIRPING AS IF NOTHING IS WRONG. AGENT MAY KNOCKS.]

AGENT MAY

Ms. Foster? This is Agents May and June. We’re with the Harper Foundation. We’re here to ask you a few questions.

[A RAVEN CAWS AS THERE IS NO RESPONSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Maybe she’s not home?

AGENT MAY

I don’t believe she ever leaves her house. Look at her car. It’s untouched. I’m sure she even gets her groceries delivered, somehow.

[HE KNOCKS AGAIN.]

AGENT MAY

We do not wish to harm you or bring you into custody, Ms. Foster. We won’t tell anyone what you are or what you’re doing here. We simply believe you may have some helpful insight on Ether. Just let us ask a few things, and then we’ll be out of your way.

[THERE’S A LONG PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Maybe it’s a lost cause. Well, at least we can say we tried. Guess we should just—

[AS HE’S TALKING, THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN JUST A CRACK.]

LORELEI

You do not plan on taking photographs, do you?

AGENT MAY

We’re recording this over audio. Nobody will see your face except for the two of us, we promise.

AGENT JUNE

Yeah, don’t sweat it. We’re not gonna—[STARTLED] Oh my god!

[AS HE SPEAKS, LORELEI OPENS THE DOOR THE REST OF THE WAY TO REVEAL HER TRUE FORM.]

LORELEI

Is there a problem?

AGENT MAY

Not at all, Ms. Foster. Apologizes for my colleague, he is—

AGENT JUNE

[NERVOUSLY BLUFFING] I have a fear of new people. Yup. Terrified of ‘em.

AGENT MAY

[PLAYING ALONG] It’s tragic, really. Makes our job incredibly difficult.

LORELEI

[SUSPICIOUS] Quite.

[A BEAT.] Well, you said you had questions?

AGENT MAY

That we do. May we come in?

LORELEI

I would advise against it. Terrance is a pacifist when around me, but I am unsure of how he would react to new people.

AGENT JUNE

And who is Terrance, exactly?

LORELEI

A bear. [SADLY] Used to be a friend.

[A BEAR GROWLS IN THE BACKGROUND. AGENT JUNE MAKES A WEAK NOISE OF FEAR.]

LORELEI

I am still unsure whether his calm nature is because he maintained his human consciousness, or if I have some level of control over him that makes him do as I wish. Perhaps a mix of both.

AGENT MAY

Did you make him this way?

LORELEI

That much should be obvious, don’t you think? Assuming you really know what you’re talking about, and you’re not just bluffing.

AGENT MAY

We are somewhat familiar with your kind, but we’re always looking to learn more.

LORELEI

[SHE SCOFFS.] Is that what this is? You view me as a learning opportunity? Like a sample dragged in by the biology teacher for lab day?

AGENT MAY

Of course not. We’re just trying to learn more about Ether.

AGENT JUNE

I am very curious about how you managed to do it, though, if you care to indulge us?

[THERE’S A PAUSE.]

LORELEI

[SOLEMN] I never asked for any of this. When we attempted the ritual, our hope was that by the end of it, all of us would obtain the same level of power. Valencia told me it would never work. I had quite the rebellious streak back then, though. I didn’t believe him. Perhaps I should have.

If I had known that all of that power would have been channeled into me, I never would have attempted it. Now that time has passed, I realize how useless of a power it even is. What made Ether decide to curse me with it, I’ll never know. Perhaps we didn’t speak clearly enough when we did the ritual.

I had no idea what my limits were, or how to use my abilities. The consequences, of course, were far greater than I could have ever imagined. Terrance and Abigail were both accidents. Clementine, I turned her into a spider in a fit of rage. Scott happened when I was sobbing my eyes out, and he made the mistake of trying to comfort me. I am unsure if I intended to turn him into a snake or not. By the time River was the only one left, they came to me and asked to be turned into a cat. They said they knew I was bound to do it eventually, and they wanted to choose what animal they became. I did as they wished.

[JUST AS SHE SAYS THAT, A RAVEN FLIES OVER AND SQUAWKS. AGENT JUNE STARTLES, YELPING AT THIS.]

LORELEI

[SHE GIVES A DRY CHUCKLE.] I don’t think Abigail likes you.

AGENT MAY

You mentioned the consequences were far greater than you could have imagined. Was that in reference to the loss of your friends?

LORELEI

Oh, don’t make me say it. It would have been one thing if I simply turned my entire coven into my own little petting zoo. Now, however, I can never escape my own errors, even if I were to leave them all behind. I am forever haunted by the marks my ability has left. The bear paw that has become of my left hand. The raven feathers in my hair. The spider eyes sprawled across my face. The venom that drips from my fangs and burns my lips. And oh, how disappointing having the tail of a cat is, despite how elegant I thought it would be when I was a little girl. Cats used to be my favorite animal. They aren’t anymore.

AGENT MAY

Don’t you think River would take offense to that?

LORELEI

Hm. Perhaps you’re right.

[A CAT MEOWS FROM INSIDE.]

AGENT MAY

How did you access Ether’s power?

LORELEI

The same way I’m sure most people have. We did a ritual. Just as most of them do, it went wrong.

AGENT MAY

Do you know where exactly it went wrong?

[A PAUSE.]

LORELEI

Can I be honest with you? I have had years to think long and hard about the events that transpired that night. I read through our plans over, and over again, hoping to find a way to undo it all. After all of that, I came to the conclusion that whatever fault it was—whatever slip of the tongue or missing ingredient it could have been—none of it would have mattered.

Ether chooses who to favor and who to damn by the luck of a draw. Flip of a coin. It knows no order. It will do what it pleases. It is not a person, or a sentient being—it is a random number generator that can grant unlimited power if you get lucky. It’s a lottery of stones, however. Nobody is ever really winning, even those as fortunate as the Forget-Me-Nots, or those well-off enough to never hear about Ether at all.

[A PAUSE, THEN] Do you have any other questions? I’m rather sure my pets are looking forward to their dinner.

AGENT MAY

Just one: where is the heart of Ether?

[A PAUSE.]

LORELEI

I would be careful, if I were you. I’ve heard things, rumors, about your little project. Though I doubt you fully understand the dangers, seeing as you’re just the worker bees, hm?

AGENT MAY

It’s not my place to question, I’m afraid.

LORELEI

Perhaps you should. Never does anyone any good, blindly following orders.

[AS THEY TALK, RIVER MEOWS, PURRING AS SHE RUBS AGAINST AGENT JUNE'S LEGS.]

AGENT JUNE

[WHISPERING TO THE CAT] Ah—hey! Go away! Shoo!

AGENT MAY

If you could answer the question, I promise we’ll be out of your hair.

LORELEI

Hm. I’m afraid I can’t be of much help. For years, people believed Ether resided in the sky, but that is untrue. Though, during the brief window Valencia was willing to speak to me, he did tell me he had a theory—

[AGENT JUNE CUTS HER OFF BY SNEEZING.]

AGENT JUNE

[MUTTERS] Stupid cat!

[RIVER HISSES.]

LORELEI

[OFFENDED] I would appreciate it if you did not insult my animals.

AGENT JUNE

[CONGESTED] Then tell River to leave me the hell alone. Can’t you control them, or whatever? At least use your freaky powers to—

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING] Agent June—!

AGENT JUNE

I just want this damn—

[THERE’S A TENSE PAUSE AS HE REALIZES LORELEI IS GLARING INTENTLY AT HIM.]

AGENT JUNE

I mean, uh, this lovely cat, to uh…I’m so sorry, ma’am, this has been incredibly rude of me.

LORELEI

[A BEAT.] What was your name, again?

AGENT JUNE

Juh—uh, Agent June?

LORELEI

Agent June. [SHE SAYS THE NAME WITH DISDAIN.] Agent June, do you have a favorite animal, by chance?

AGENT MAY

[WHISPERING, PANICKED] Don’t say anything. Just thank her and let’s go before—

AGENT JUNE

[OVERLAPPING] I don’t know. Uh, have you ever heard of Sonic the Hedgehog?

LORELEI

[MIXED WITH CONFUSION AND DISGUST] Sonic. The Hedgehog.

AGENT JUNE

[NERVOUS RAMBLING] Yeah! I was obsessed with those games growing up, and so I went through this whole phase where I wanted a pet hedgehog really bad, but my parents never let me have one. Said I was too irresponsible, or whatever. That dream kinda, like, carried over into my adult life though?

LORELEI

[NODDING] So, hedgehogs.

AGENT JUNE

Um, sure.

LORELEI

I see.

[A PAUSE.]

LORELEI

I do hope you’re happy with that choice, Agent June.

[A HIGH-PITCHED RINGING IS HEARD AS SHE REACHES HER HAND OUT. AGENT JUNE STARTS SPUTTERING IN FEAR.]

[EERIE AND TENSE MUSIC BEGINS TO PLAY.]

AGENT JUNE

[TERRIFIED] What the—?

AGENT MAY

Shit.

[AGENT MAY IS HEARD PULLING OUT A DART GUN AND SHOOTING A TRANQUILIZER DART AT LORELEI. SHE CRIES OUT A BIT, BEFORE STUMBLING, AND THEN COLLAPSING.]

AGENT JUNE

Did you just tranquilize her?

AGENT MAY

I didn’t have a choice. Come on, get in the car. The full effect only lasts forty-five seconds.

[THEY BOTH FRANTICALLY CLIMB INTO THE CAR, SLAMMING THE DOORS AS THEY GET IN.]

AGENT MAY

Are you okay? Did she change you at all?

AGENT JUNE

[HYPERVENTILATING] No, no! But it—this really weird feeling washed over me, like, like my body was trying to fit into a smaller one, I—that was the worst thing I’ve ever felt, oh my god.

AGENT MAY

[ATTEMPTING TO SOOTHE] Agent June, calm down. You’re safe now, okay?

AGENT JUNE

Yeah, only because of you. You just saved my life. I mean, technically, I would have survived, but I would have had to live out the rest of my days as a hedgehog!

AGENT MAY

[FRUSTRATED] Maybe if you had been able to hold your damn tongue for thirty seconds, this wouldn’t have happened.

[AS HE TALKS, AGENT MAY STARTS THE CAR AND SPEEDS AWAY, THE TIRES SQUEALING.]

AGENT JUNE

I’m sorry I was having an allergic reaction!

AGENT MAY

That’s no excuse for you to have said the things you did. I told you to keep it together.

AGENT JUNE

Stop trying to blame all of this on me. I don’t care if it’s my fault, I almost just lost my humanity. Do you know how horrifying that was?

AGENT MAY

[HE INHALES SHARPLY.] No, you’re right. You’re not entirely to blame for what just happened.

If only she had at least finished her sentence about Valencia’s theory.

AGENT JUNE

[GUILTILY] Yeah, that was pretty poor timing, huh?

AGENT MAY

We’ll find out one way or another. Might have to go back to Irene Gray.

AGENT JUNE

Ah yes, the other enemy we’ve made in this town.

AGENT MAY

I guess we’re going to have to find a way to change that, then. [A BEAT.] Turn off the recording, please.

[SOME SHUFFLING AS AGENT JUNE MOVES TO TURN THE RECORDER OFF.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[ANOTHER BEEP.]

[EXT. LEMONGRASS PARK, NIGHT.]

[IRENE IS SITTING IN HER CAR. THERE ARE CRICKETS HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND.]

IRENE

I’m parked in front of Lemongrass Park. To be honest, I’ve never actually been here, even though it’s so close to my house. It’s small, but it’s a nice park. There’s a swing set, a seesaw, one of those metal slides that would always burn my skin during the summer. Some nice trees, too.

[REMINISCING] Do you remember when we would go to the park late at night? It was really stupid of us to go there after dark, honestly, it’s a miracle nothing ever happened. Well, I mean, you did hurt your leg that one time you fell off the swing, which I still feel bad about. It felt so serene, though. Like we were the only people in the world. We were still clinging onto our childhood innocence, and you, you were so fond of that park near your house, and I was so fond of the way you laughed. You’ll love this park, too, I think, if you ever get to see it. You always loved places where—

Wait, hold on, I think—I think Sadie’s waving at me. She’s sitting over on one of the swings. At least, I think it’s her? Not quite what I expected her to look like, but then again, I don’t know what I was expecting. She’s wearing all black, and has a striped shirt underneath her t-shirt, even though it’s hot as hell. Is this how emo kids dress these days? I think Aden said something about “e-girls” or something. [SHE SCOFFS.] Jeez, I need to start keeping track of these things. I feel so old.

She’s also wearing a black fabric surgical mask, with a white design? I’ve hardly seen people wear those outside of the medical profession—I mean, there was one time, but that was an outlier. [SHE SAYS THIS PART UNCOMFORTABLY BECAUSE THIS IS REFERRING BACK TO THE FIRST TRAILER.]

It must be her, though. Otherwise, why would she be waving at me? I have the box of film in the passenger’s seat. Avery and I talked today, and they were incredibly vocal about how bad of an idea this was, but they said I’m an adult and can make my own choices.

Avery is…well. I think they have good intentions at heart. They act indifferent all the time, and they’re incredibly mature, but they seem…I don’t know. Sometimes, there’s this, fear, maybe? That bleeds through when they speak. I think they try to hide it. Reminds me they’re still, technically, a kid.

Right, I feel kinda awkward sitting here while Sadie is staring at me. Guess I should get this over with.

[IRENE GRABS THE BOX OF FILM AND STEPS OUT OF HER CAR. SHE WALKS TOWARDS SADIE. WHENEVER SADIE TALKS, HER VOICE IS JUST SLIGHTLY MUFFLED.]

SADIE

[FROM AFAR] Irene, right?

IRENE

Yup!

SADIE

Wonderful!

[SADIE WALKS OVER TO IRENE.]

SADIE

I’ll take that.

[SHE'S HEARD TAKING THE CARDBOARD BOX FROM IRENE.]

SADIE

Looks heavy! How many photos did you take?

IRENE

[HANDING THE BOX OFF] Thank you, uh, I didn’t take these, though.

SADIE

I see. That’s a bummer. I thought I’d met a person of similar passions.

IRENE

Sorry to disappoint.

SADIE

Don’t stress it! Where did you get the film, then?

IRENE

[LYING] It’s from one of my dead relatives.

SADIE

Mm. Sorry to hear that.

IRENE

It was a while ago, so it's okay.

SADIE

They sure took lots of photos. Do you have any idea what they photographed?

IRENE

No clue.

SADIE

Well, I’ll do my best to get this developed. I’m staying with my uncle for part of the summer, and he never uses his dark room, so I have it all to myself. You know, he has this massive house, spends lots of money on rooms he never uses every time he gets a new hobby.

IRENE

Odd he chose Daughtler of all places to stick it.

SADIE

You know, that’s what I said! My professor went green with envy when I told her about it, though. She said this is a perfect town to take pictures.

IRENE

You’re a student, then?

SADIE

Yup! Majoring in photography, in case that wasn’t already clear. [SHE GIGGLES.]

Anyways, I’ll try to get this developed for you as quickly as possible. It may take a while, ‘cause there’s so much of it, so would you like me to give it to you in batches?

IRENE

That would be great, yeah. Um, thank you. Are you sure I can’t pay you?

SADIE

Oh, please, don’t worry about it. Like I said, I’m just thankful for the opportunity.

So, any other questions for me? I’m happy to answer them.

IRENE

Um, I have a bit of a weird one.

SADIE

Hm?

IRENE

Why are you wearing a surgical mask? Is it, like, a germ thing, or are you sick?

[THERE’S A PAUSE.]

SADIE

I should go get started on this.

IRENE

Um, you didn’t—

SADIE

[AGGRESSIVELY CUTTING HER OFF] Pleasure working with you, Irene! I’ll get back to you about your first batch ASAP!

IRENE

[TAKEN ABACK] Oh. Okay, then. Um, bye.

SADIE

Later!

[IRENE WALKS TO HER CAR AND CLIMBS BACK INSIDE. THERE'S A PAUSE.]

IRENE

Well, that was interesting, for lack of a better term. Sadie seems fine? I guess I just got a bit too personal with the mask thing. I mean, if it makes her feel comfortable, I don’t see why she can’t wear it. I’ll try not to worry about it. As long as she can develop the photos, that’s what matters.

Though I am kind of worried. I mean, Valencia could have taken, well, suspicious photos, assuming they’re connected to his research. I have no idea. I guess we just have to hope? Sadie seems pretty okay with minding her own business, it seems, so if I’m lucky, she won’t question it.

[HER PHONE STARTS VIBRATING.]

IRENE

Oh, hang on. Avery is calling me.

[A BEEP AS SHE ANSWERS.]

IRENE

Hello?

AVERY

Just making sure you didn’t get murdered.

[AS AVERY TALKS, THERE IS THE SOUND OF MASHING VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER BUTTONS AND JOYSTICKS.]

IRENE

[SHE SCOFFS.] Well, I didn’t. Sadie was fine. You really had nothing to be worried about.

AVERY

[DISTRACTED] I mean, it’s still a really bad idea to be meeting someone in the park this late. Daughtler is a small town, but even if we don’t have much of a problem with normal creeps, weird stuff is still kind of the norm, you know?

IRENE

Yeah, I’ve gathered that much, I—wait, hang on, are you playing video games right now?

AVERY

Dude, it’s just Stardew Valley. It’s not like I’m fighting anything.

[A RAVEN CAWS FROM THE GAME.]

IRENE

[AWKWARDLY] I don’t know what that is.

AVERY

That’s because you’re old.

IRENE

Hey.

AVERY

[OVEREXAGGERATED, FAKE] Ah no, I just got attacked! I gotta hang up, sorry Irene!

IRENE

You just said there’s no—

[AVERY HANGS UP.]

IRENE

[DEFEATED] …combat.

[SHE HUFFS.] Talk to you later, I guess.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[ANOTHER BEEP.]

[INT. THE APARTMENT ABOVE THE OPEN EYES BOOKSTORE, NIGHT. A BUDGIE IS OCCASIONALLY HEARD CHIRPING OR FLAPPING ITS WINGS IN THE BACKGROUND THROUGHOUT THE SCENE.]

[HOLLY IS HEARD SORTING THROUGH A GROCERY BAG AND SETTING THINGS ON THE COUNTER.]

HOLLY

Is it recording?

PHOEBE

Yes, it is.

HOLLY

Cool, cool. I got eggs, by the way. I know you talked about wanting to try to make pie at some point, and you were running low, so.

PHOEBE

[SLIGHTLY OVERLAPPING] Oh, um, thank you! Um, why were you out so late, anyways?

HOLLY

Hm? Oh, just a nighttime stroll.

PHOEBE

[WARY] I see.

[HOLLY WALKS OVER, AND SITS ON THE COUCH NEXT TO PHOEBE.]

HOLLY

Alright, then. You have the next letter? I guess all that’s left to do is open it.

[THERE'S A PAUSE AS HOLLY HESITATES.]

HOLLY

You sure you’re okay with me being in the room for this? I know her letters to you were, well, personal.

PHOEBE

It’s okay, don’t worry. I—I trust you. I’m sure Grandma Doe would, too.

HOLLY

[TENDERLY] That…that means a lot.

[A BEAT.] Go ahead, then.

[PHOEBE OPENS THE LETTER.]

PHOEBE

Phoebe, If you are reading this, I assume you have successfully completed the ritual. If it was not a success, well, I have a separate envelope marked for you to read. I suggest you find it.

HOLLY

Almost want to read the other one just to see what it says.

PHOEBE

[UNSETTLED] I don’t think that’s a good idea. If the alternative was that bad, well. I don’t want to think about what could have happened to me.

HOLLY

Fair, yeah. Continue.

PHOEBE

[SHE CLEARS HER THROAT.] If everything worked as well as I hope, then you have now stepped into your role as a Forget-Me-Not. I could not be more proud of you, little wildflower. What a lovely Forget-Me-Not you will be.

I have already warned you of some of the dangers, but now that this is your reality, I am going to begin to describe it all in more detail in order to prepare you. It is nothing I have not already mentioned in previous letters, however.

Now, let us start from the beginning: why did I name them the Forget-Me-Nots? Valencia thought it to be a rotten name. Too flowery, he said it was, too delicate. I believe it to be a sophisticated name. Better than the Hungry, or whatever other titles he’s come up with.

HOLLY

The hell is the Hungry?

PHOEBE

Um, I’m not sure. I’m sure we’ll find out?

HOLLY

Let’s hope.

PHOEBE

It goes on: Anyways, I called them the Forget-Me-Nots because it is not just about their quest for new knowledge. It is about the knowledge they already have. Sure, they know where to find any and all information, but what about that which is already within them? A Forget-Me-Not cannot forget anything. Even the tiniest detail, they will cling onto for the rest of their life. I still remember what I ordered at an Italian restaurant twenty-seven years ago. It was some mediocre chicken parmesan. The sauce was a bit too bitter for my taste, but I went back there because they had delightful breadsticks.

However, this is a double-edged sword. It is not just new information you will begin to retain. If only it was that simple. A Forget-Me-Not also remembers all which has happened before. This includes all of your life up to this point, from your early childhood, to more recent events.

When I chose you to be my predecessor, this is what I dreaded most. Your mother and I always considered it to be a blessing in disguise that you did not remember much of your childhood. I know you are aware of what happened, but the specifics are far worse than I think you’ve ever processed. I would not wish memories of that horrid time upon anyone, especially you. Your poor mother, my dear Agnes, she lives through them every day.

You may be forced to confront some of the memories of your father. The sick, rotten, vile man he was. I am eternally grateful I was able to save you from some suffering when you were a child, though I am deeply remorseful for all your mother put herself through. I wish I could be there to walk you through it all, to comfort you as you remember, but the circumstances are not in my favor.

You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, however, and you do not have to do it alone. Please do not hesitate to reach out to your mother if you find yourself needing the support. You could also talk to a friend—I’m assuming you have an abundance of those, you’re far too charming and sweet to not have any. Like I’ve said, isolation will only drain you of all you are. Nothing about this process will be easy, but I would not put you through it if I did not believe you could handle it.

Take your work slowly. Do not rush into it. Allow your mind to process the—

[PHOEBE SUDDENLY STOPS TALKING. THERE’S A LONG PAUSE.]

HOLLY

[A MIX OF CONFUSED AND CONCERNED] Phoebe?

PHOEBE

I— [A PAUSE, THEN] Sorry, sorry. Sorry. It’s just. [SHE TRAILS OFF.]

HOLLY

Is something wrong?

PHOEBE

Th—the letter, it’s just, um, got me thinking, I guess. About my father.

HOLLY

[CAUTIOUS] How much do you remember of him?

PHOEBE

[SHE GIVES A SHAKY CHUCKLE.] Oh, I’m trying to avoid that train of thought. I’m scared it will all come flowing in at once.

HOLLY

Oh, right, yeah. Try not to focus too much on it, okay?

PHOEBE

No, I’m okay, I just—I remember bits of it. More vividly, now, than I did before.

[WHAT FOLLOWS IS THE AFOREMENTIONED DESCRIPTION OF CHILD ABUSE. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.]

PHOEBE

Have you seen the stuffed cow sitting on my bed? It’s so old and worn, but it’s one of the most precious things I own. Its name is Baby. It’s, um, a silly name, I know. I used to play pretend with it, though, and act like I was its mother. I cradled it, pretended to feed it. So I named it Baby. [A BEAT, THEN] I didn’t remember why I named it that until now.

My dad hated Baby, though. He hated that I was so attached to a stuffed cow, of all things. He would constantly use Baby to threaten me, holding his ability to take it away over my head, because he knew that was a quick way to make me upset. If it was his choice, I’m sure he would have destroyed it. Not sure why he never did.

One day, when he was in a bad mood, and my mom was at work, I hid Baby inside my closet. He stormed into my room, and demanded for me to give it to him. I lied and said I had no idea where Baby was, but of course he didn’t believe me. He tore through my room, ignoring my pleas for him to stop, until he found Baby and took it away. I was forced to clean up the mess he made before my mom got home.

When she did get home, I instantly went and hugged her legs tightly and sobbed. I told her that Daddy had taken Baby away, and ruined my room. She asked me to take her to my room, so I did, only to find Baby sitting on the bed, staring right back at me.

My dad came in. “Of course I didn’t take the stupid toy,” he said. “She probably just misplaced it.” My mom didn’t argue. I was outraged. How could she believe him? Looking back, however, she knew something was wrong. I know she did. Even as a kid, I could read it on her face. He didn’t give her a choice, though.

[A BEAT.] He let me keep Baby, at least. Though he warned me not to try to tell mom what he did ever again. Otherwise, he would be very upset with me.

[A WET CHUCKLE.] And I didn’t even face the worst of it. I would spend days, weeks even, here with Grandma Doe when my dad was especially bad. That’s why her and I were so close, and why I didn’t remember so much of what my dad did. My mom had to endure most of it, though. That is, until she was finally able to get a divorce. He was arrested for a few years, I never learned what for, but I hope it was for the right reasons. When he got out, my mom got a restraining order against him.

The last time I saw him was my eighth birthday. He didn’t get me anything.

[THERE'S A LONG PAUSE.]

HOLLY

I’m going to kill him.

PHOEBE

[NERVOUS CHUCKLE] I—I appreciate you caring, but—

HOLLY

[A BIT TOO ANGRY] No. I mean it. If he’s still alive, I’ll kill him.

PHOEBE

[SLIGHTLY STARTLED] I don’t know if he’s still alive. I mean, it’s not like I’ve made an effort to reach out to him, heh.

HOLLY

[A PAUSE, THEN, SINCERE AND EMOTIONAL] I’m so sorry.

PHOEBE

It—It’s okay! Really. I promise. It was a long time ago. It’s just…I’m not sure how much I’m going to remember. As time goes on. I mean, I’m sure I would have been forced to confront my childhood eventually, this is just kind of speeding up the process.

HOLLY

You can always come to me, you know. If it gets to be too much.

PHOEBE

I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Holly. Really.

HOLLY

Of course. Anything I can do. [A PAUSE.] Would a hug be okay?

PHOEBE

[SHE TAKES A SHAKY BREATH.] A hug would be nice.

[THERE ARE FABRIC RUSTLES AS THEY ARE HEARD EMBRACING.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: "In every couple there is one who is the historian of the relationship."

Susan Sontag in Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963.

[OUTRO MUSIC AND CREDITS PLAY.]

[AT THE END OF THE CREDITS, THERE IS A BRIEF, HIGH-PITCHED RINGING NOISE, THAT BEGINS TO BREAK UP BEFORE STOPPING ABRUPTLY.]

[hadestownmodern]

Whole Foods and Grilled Cheese

You got Eurydice and Persephone at Costco. Here is the prelude to that: Orpheus and Hades at Whole Foods. This was such a wild thing to write and I hope it brings someone a bit of a smile in these hard times. -A

The bustling of the grocery store was not a welcome sight to Orpheus who had not expected the action filled morning when he called his uncle the previous night. 

“She’s been staying a lot..”

“Orpheus, I don’t want to know about your late night antics with that girl-”

“No no thats not- I’m not trying to talk about that!” Orpheus stuttered though he knew his blush was not evidence through the telephone. “She doesn’t eat well and she works so much- I wanted to try to make her some things.”

“Make her some things?”

“I want to learn to cook. Can you help me?”

“....” Silence, so Hades could hide the slight pride in his voice. “I’ll be there in the morning.”

The 8 a.m. knock on his apartment door, with his uncle demanding to get going for a ‘long day ahead’ had not been what he was anticipating when he rolled out of bed scrambling for pajama pants. 

The morning was nothing short of exhausting. Hades dragging Orpheus through the busy streets to a high end department store and making a beeline for the kitchen department. A long lecture on different pots, pans, and cooking utensils ended with Hades buying ‘one of everything’ and having it promptly delivered to Orpheus apartment so they could continue on their day. 

By afternoon, after Hades spent a small fortune to equip Orpheus with “the best of the best” for cooking, he would not relax on the ride to the local Whole Foods. 

“Amma says you should buy from Farmer’s markets…” Orpheus had commented, between drinks of a free sample smoothie that was a rather unsettling shade of green. 

Hades tried to hold back the sharp retort, biting his tongue and gesturing Orpheus forward in the store. “You can go to the farmers market once you have pantry staples, Orpheus. But you need a solid base. Spices, rice, pastas, flour.. Spices especially. Eventually you can make most of it yourself. You can make broth and pasta but for now, we’re starting easy. You need a solid start. A pasta dish, a chicken dish, some sort of eggs.. We’ll get to soup later. We’ll cover steak next week.”

“Next week?” Orpheus squeaks, eyes wide at the assortment of fruits and vegetables around him. His fingers lingered on star fruit a few extra moments before Hades deep voice pulled him out of his reverie.

“Yes, Next Week, do you want to impress the girl or not?” Hades is perusing a meat case, conversing with the butcher in words Orpheus cannot comprehend, taking brown paper wrapped packages and placing them in the cart. “We’ll start easy today. Scrambled eggs. Maybe a nice red sauce. Simple things…. What can you make now?”

“I can...heat up frozen chicken nuggets. And make grilled cheese! With tomato Soup!”

“Is the tomato soup from a can, Orpheus?” He isn’t even looking at him as he examines a dozen of eggs and places them in the shopping cart as well, before grabbing a few cheeses. 

“...yes…”

“Then thats not cooking. What kind of cheese do you put on the grilled cheese?”  

“The little slices that come wrapped one by one-”

“Thats not even real cheese. Okay. No red sauce today. Eggs. We do eggs.” He loops back to grab an extra dozen.

Hades directs Orpheus through each aisle, taking time to pause and teach Orpheus about all the possibilities. Different types of pasta for different sauces (Light sauce with spaghetti, bolognese with rigatoni), types of beans to use for different fillings, how different flours affected baked goods. 

They were in the spice aisle, a deep discussion on the values of garlic salt versus garlic powder when Orpheus asked a new question. 

“So you need garlic and onion powder, but can add your own salt. I really suggest you use real garlic and onion but on grilled cheese or eggs this is easier. I also think freshly cracked black pepper makes a difference-”

“When did you know you wanted to marry Persephone?” He asks, looking up from his notebook full of spice notes. 

“...not after six days, Boy, back to the spice. Now bay leaves are quintessential to a good soup base..”

“I bought a ring!”

“And you should use real homemade broth, Persephone used those bouillon cubes as a nausea quick cure but- I’m sorry you did what?”

“I bought a ring! Yesterday. I love her so much, I just..I know she’s it for me. Amma always says you know and I know!” He has an innocence in his eyes that Hades doesn’t want to crush, but innocence too closely accompanies naivety. 

“Orpheus. You met six days ago. You don’t marry a girl because she took your virginity!”

Orpheus’ face turned the color of the canned tomatoes in his hand, the poet losing his words. “No! I love her! I know I do! She makes the world have color and reason and I look at her and see the whole world. I just imagine waking up next to her and holding our babies and-”

“Six days. Six days ago. You met her six days ago, stop talking about babies and marriage and focus on, I don’t know, getting to no her as a person with clothes on?” He grabs a handful of jarred spices and pushed on through the store. “Two years, Orpheus. We were together two years before I even thought about it. Now come on, we need to start cooking.” He ended the conversation, gesturing Orpheus towards the checkout. 

They stopped at his apartment to drop off and properly store the frozen ingredients, a lesson all in its own of proper pantry filling and food storage, before taking the car to Hades townhome, where Orpheus was already spending so much of his time. 

“We’ll do Eggs and grilled cheese. Scrambled eggs, you can’t do an omlette yet.” Hades decided as he keys into the front door, grabbing the mail on his way in. 

“Is seph home? Is she gonna try it-”

“Of course. You don’t have to impress her though. Even if it tasted like garbage, that woman would never hurt your feelings. It’s Junie you need to impress-”

“..Junie?”

Just then Hades pushes the door open, and within seconds tiny yet quick footsteps were audible, getting closer by the second. 

Junie, in her little purple tutu, ringlet curls bouncing as she ran, flew into her father’s legs with her arms in the air. “Daddy! I miss-ed-ed you!” 

He chuckles lowly, scooping her onto his hip and kissing her cheek as the toddler wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hey, Princess. Where’s your mother?” 

“If she’s the princess, does that make me the queen?” Persephone appears, long curls falling loose around her face. She somehow looks put together even in a sweatshirt far too big for her and flannel pajama shorts left over from last years christmas. “How was your shopping trip?”

He kisses his wife, tugging her closer by the fabric of her shirt. “You were the queen long before she was the princess. And it was eventful. He uses prepackaged cheese.”

“Well, I ate cups of ramen noodles and you loved me anyway.” Persephone winks, holding a hand out to Orpheus. “I hope he didn’t scare you, it’s sweet, that you’re learning to do this.”

“Well I want to be with her forev-”

He is interrupted by Hades voice, as he bounces Junie once “Hey Junie, why don’t we go set up to cook. Come, Orpheus.”

“Yeah, come on Ophie!” Junie gestures for him to follow, as her father carries her to the kitchen. He sits her on the chair at the island, before Persephone sits beside her and pulls her into her lap. 

“Why’s Ophie cookin’ daddy?” She asks, kicking her little legs before pressing her back into her mother’s chest, snuggling into her. 

“Because he’s trying to impress a girl, Junie.” Hades says off handedly, placing a loaf of bread on the table top. “Remember, Junie, if a man can’t cook, he isn’t good enough for you.”

“Noone’s good ‘nuff for me, Daddy.”

“Thats right, baby. Thats right.”

“Are you tryna impress Princess Rydice, Ophie?” The little girl asks, craning her head to look at him, standing in the doorway looking suddenly horrified. 

“Oh, Yes I am Junie, I love her so much and I want to make her happy!” He has a dreamy look in his eyes, looking off in admiration. 

“Are you gonna marry her?” Junie inquires, cocking her head.

“I want to, so badly!”

“Now Orpheus, we talked about this-” Hades grumbled before his wife cuts him off. 

“What are you making us tonight, my little culinary masters.” Persephone teases, resting her chin on Junie’s head. “I’m in the mood for glazed salmon with-”

“Eggs. We are making eggs. And grilled Cheese.” Hades shoots her a look, signifying that even this may result in ordering takeout late in the evening. He grabs butter and an assortment of cheeses, a carton of eggs, and some other small ingredients. 

“Thats not a real meal, daddy. Wheres the veggie?” Junie questions, resting her little face on her hand. 

“Orpheus has to learn not to burn his house down before we can teach him to blanch veggies, baby.” Hades shakes his head, but hands Junie a handful of grated cheese to munch on in the cooking process. 

Orpheus looks stunned as an egg is placed in his hand, and a small glass bowl is given to him. “Do i just..”

“Crack the egg Orpheus.”

Orpheus slams the egg into the bowl, shell going everywhere in both the yolk and on the counter top. “Oh..”

“Try again.” 

They do this half a dozen times before Orpheus can confidently crack an egg, and learns whisking skills with a fork. He learns to add milk and butter, salt and pepper. He burns the first try, and under cooks the second. The third try is plated, and slid across the island to Junie and her mother. 

Persephone gives Junie a bite before taking one herself. Persephone, either being overly kind or with overly low standards, gives orpheus a thumbs up. 

Junie, however, stares at the pale eggs and shakes her head. “Ophie you aren’t impressin’ any-body with this. You need salt.”

“Juniper! Be nice!” Persephone lectured, but hid her face in her corkscrew curls to laugh to herself. 

“I just telling the truth! It’s bland!” Junie defends, looking to her dad. 

“She’s not wrong..Just use a little more salt and you’ll be golden Orpheus. Eat your eggs then we’ll try the grilled cheese.” 

The grilled cheese does not go any better. 

“For the love of god Orpheus, you put the buttered side on the pan, and the cheese on the inside!” 

“He’s hopeless, Daddy.” Junie pokes in, eating the still uncooked cheese set out on the island. “ Rydice will marry you anyway Ophie, it’s okay if you can’t cook! Mama can’t cook either!”

“I made you, thats close enough to cooking.”  Persephone teased, poking Junie’s stomach and making her erupt into brilliant giggles. 

Orpheus is distracted by the sound, suddenly drawn to a future where it is a dark haired little girl laughing in the arms of Eurydice as he cooks a meal for his own family.  He is so distracted by the thought of Eurydice’s dark eyes on a child that he doesn’t hear Hades in the background. 

“Orpheus...Orpheus...ORPHEUS you are BURNING the toast.” He takes the spatula out of Orpheus’ hand and tosses the offending blackened sandwich away. 

“I’m sorry i’m usually not this bad...I don’t burn my own grilled cheese.”

“Because you use fake cheese. Now remember. Butter bread. Butter side down. Gruyere. Cheddar. Mozzarella. Bread Butter side up.” 

Orpheus follows the instructions, and this time, successfully develops a golden crust on the bread, with cheese oozing out just right. 

He cuts the sandwich in half and presents it to his niece/pseudo sister with pride. “Here you go Junie B.”

Junie eyes him carefully, examining all of the sandwich. “Pretty color..smells good…” She takes an apprehensive bite, then another. “It’s good, Ophie...but..”

“Whats wrong, Junie?” Hades muses, leaning down to her eye level. 

“If you were on chopped, you’d be chopped. But thats okay. My Daddy’s just better than you.” 

[allie1804-fan]

Please Assist Me (Chapter 19)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Ch6apter 10 , Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15 , Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18

She Said

Back in LA, I found myself home schooling again as Covid was seeing another surge and there was still no vaccine on the horizon.  It was definitely a struggle not having Keanu there in my regular day to day life especially as I still had to deal with the downsides associated with being his girlfriend – like not having my social media fix and getting photographed looking like shit while doing  the grocery shopping!

The memory of that day alone together in New York was seared in my brain;  And it either helped me get through, looking forward to having him home again or made things 50 times worse because it reminded me how much I missed him.

After the amazing sex and snoozing, we’d headed to a café for brunch then spent a couple of hours walking in the park. We weren’t bothered by any fans or photographers and we were just able to enjoy a relaxing time together. It was what we needed after the tension that was there because of the whole publicity issue. And the sex had left us physically relaxed too. We talked about plans for later in the year after John Wick 4 filming had concluded. There would be a 3 week spell of filming in New York then another 3 week shoot in Russia before heading back to New York to finish for a couple more months. The Russia slot had changed due to some problem with permissions to use a specific city which was why they had to break up the New York shoot.

I found myself far more stressed by the renewed lockdown and home schooling this second time around – I think I’d just got too used to Keanu being around so it was like readjusting to being a single parent yet again and I definitely had a shorter fuse.

Keanu came home for a couple of days between the New York and Russia shoots and unfortunately I took out the tension I was feeling on him. He came straight to my house from the airport, exhausted from the shoot where they’d tried to get ahead of themselves so had been doing 12-16 hour days. He’d accumulated a pile of dirty laundry which he asked if I wouldn’t mind doing.

“What? You couldn’t get hotel services to deal with this?” I snapped

“Come on, I’ve been working 6 til 10 every day this week, I just forgot” he pleaded.

“Whatever!”

Later I apologised to him. I put it down to having just had two consecutive school days that week  which was exhausting physically and mentally and I’d been a bit under the weather. He forgave me but there were a couple more tense moments before he went to Russia.

The car to take him to the airport was due soon and he gathered his bags and then pulled me close. I didn’t want to let him go.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been such a bitch!” I grovelled, looking up into his beautiful chocolate brown eyes.

“Hey, it’s OK, I know it’s tough being here holding the fort. I’ve got it good, I know that. I’m busy all day and sometimes into the night on set and I don’t have all the responsibilities you have so, I know it’s hard hun but just think, in August. I’ll be back and we can all just be together for as long as we like. I haven’t accepted any other work yet so it’s just promo for Matrix and John Wick that will definitely happen and that might be done more on line now that we know it works! And who knows, I might just get you pregnant as well!”

 “You have to be here to do that sweetie”

 “I know” he grinned giving my nose a tweak.

 He Said

The first shooting in New York went well and whilst I missed Sophia and the kids, I was working so hard that there wasn’t much time for me to dwell on it. And the memory of that special day alone together sustained me, knowing that at the end of the John Wick shoot, I’d have at least a few months at home before having  to go anywhere on a shoot or promotional tour.  

I kept in touch via messaging and calls and the occasional bunch of flowers or a book sent to her to let her know she was in my thoughts but I know it was harder on her being alone especially when they had to start home schooling again. Julie was still part of the bubble but her baby was still small so she wasn’t always able to do her share, so Sophia and Miranda picked up the slack.  

When I managed to pop back to LA in-between the first New York and the Russia shoots, Sophia was tetchy and I wondered whether it would have been better to simply go straight to Russia and stay out of her way! But she looked tired and drawn so I tried my best to be patient and took the kids out to play in the park for a few hours to give her a break whilst  I was around.  It wasn’t fun being on the receiving end of her temper, but I wished I could make life easier for her all the time and not have yet another period of location shooting ahead of me. I reassured her that once I was home, we’d have a few months at least together and I hoped that maybe then we’d strike it lucky with the baby plans.

 She Said

While Keanu was in Russia, it really was a case of soldiering on. I was still feeling under the weather and constantly taking my temperature in case I was somehow going down with Covid but it was always normal regardless of how rubbish I felt.

We mostly did our calls in the mornings at around 8am as Russia is 10 hours ahead. Sometimes it was phone and sometimes video call depending on how good his internet was.  

The kids would usually pile in in front of the iPad at some point in each call and his smile was so heart-warming to see when they popped up.

“You got any messages for Karina?” I asked him on one call “I’m meeting her for coffee tomorrow”

“Just say hi and that I’ll try to see her and mom when I’m home in-between Russia and NY OK? Only 2 days to go.”

“Yup, I’m counting down the hours” I said showing him my phone screen where I’d set a countdown on my home screen.

The next day, Karina and I sat in the sun enjoying a coffee. Well, I should clarify, she was enjoying a coffee and I was finding mine distinctly weird.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with this milk. My coffee tastes weird."

“no mine’s fine” you sure you’re OK. You look kinda pale.

“Yeah I just think this whole lockdown and home schooling thing is wearing me down. I was OK first time around when it was just 2 a week but now I sometimes get 3 days with 5 kids and I miss Keanu!”

“Poor baby – you should see your doctor though if you don’t feel better soon …………… or maybe your OBGYN!” she said, whispering the last part.

“What?!”

“Don’t tell me it hasn’t occurred to you” Karina said incredulously. “You two are trying right?”

“What?”

‘What’ is all I seemed to be able to say! She started laughing then.

“Don’t worry,  he didn’t tell me anything, I just guessed by some stuff he said without realising and now here you are looking distinctly sickly …… and you were last together about a month ago right?”

I nodded, doing the maths and realising she had a point – I hadn’t had my period in how many weeks now? I hadn’t done the calculations, what with everything going on, it had totally slipped my mind.

I could feel the colour rising in my cheeks.

“you got a test at home?”

I shook my head.

“Well go get one right after this! – he’s home the day after tomorrow right? Well you might have a lovely surprise for him eh?”

After our meet up I went straight home deciding against getting a test  - I was paranoid about picking one up in person and someone recognising me and alerting the press.  Instead I ordered one from Amazon which would be delivered the next morning. Karina texted me a couple of hours later to ask if I had done a test and was frustrated to hear I’d not got one yet though she got why I had bottled it. I told her I wasn’t about to tell her the result before her brother anyway!

 He Said

I sank into the seat on the plane next to Chad, relieved to have the Russia shoot in the can. One of the stewards bought my requested Bloody Mary and I took a sip, a satisfied sigh leaving my lips.

“Happy?” Chad asked.

“Yeah, just glad to have a few days with Sophia if I’m honest. After this movie, my foot is coming off the pedal, I swear”

“Hard being away right? When you have a special someone at home that is?”

“Yup and she’s not been well this whole time  - she’s been doing all this home schooling and it’s too much on your own. I mean those kids are great but, you know, they bounce out of bed at 7 and they just keep on bouncing til 7 or 8 at night like Duracell bunnies!”

“And you want more?”

“What?!” I spluttered.

“Come on, I can tell. You’ve said too many things that have clued me in”

I was blushing fiercely but there was little point trying to hide this from Chad. He’d known me for over 20 years and could read me like a book.

“Oh man, I must be the most transparent person on the planet”

“nahh you’re good at being guarded when you need to but, I just know you, OK? Good luck to you. I hope it works out, you both deserve it”

“Thanks man”

We landed in the early evening  in LA. With the magic of the time difference, our bodies had had 12 hours of flight but it was just 2 hours after take off in terms of the time on the clock. I’d tried not to sleep too much but just enough so that I could stay awake till maybe 10 or 11pm  and then catch up on my sleep that evening. I’d then have a 5 day break with Sophia before heading back to New York for the rest of the shoot.

She Said

I was like a cat on a hit tin roof from 6pm when Keanu texted to say he’d landed. I got the kids ready for bed but let them wait in their PJs so they could see him  - he was there by 7.30. We kissed briefly in the entryway before he came into the house proper to greet the kids and thrill them with a Russian doll and traditional ushanka hat each.  We managed to get them off to bed by 8.30, finally collapsing on the sofa.

I nestled into Keanu’s side, relishing in the warmth and closeness I’d missed for the past 3 weeks.

“Do you want a drink?” I asked.

“No, I’m fine – the only thing that seems appealing is a hot chocolate before bed if I’m honest, I’m running on empty, trying to stay up as long as I can!”

“mmmm, me too and I don’t have the excuse of a long haul flight!”

“Are you ready for your gifts?”

“mmmm yes please”

He kissed my cheek and got up to hunt in his bag.

He’d got me a bottle of Beluga vodka and a gorgeous traditional Russian scarf with pretty red roses woven on a black background.

“Hey, I guess we could have a little welcome home shot on ice?”

 “Yeah sure”  

 “I’ll just get the glasses and I’ve got a little gift for you too.”

I went to the kitchen where my gift was already waiting on the counter and grabbed a shot glass and some ice and went back to the living room and sat down beside him again.

“Just one glass?” he queried.

“Yup, I don’t fancy it right now, sorry – anyway, here” I said handing him a small gift.

“You didn’t have to get my anything!”

“I kind of did” I said simply,  making him cock his eyebrow quizzically at me as he pulled on the ribbon and unwrapped my gift.   There was tissue paper inside which he  pulled open.

He was quiet for several seconds, staring down in his lap before he lifted his dark eyes to mine, a single tear escaping.

“Come ‘ere”

He Said

I  could often be taciturn, in difficult interviews for example, but it was rare for me to be rendered speechless yet that’s what I was after unwrapping Sophia’s gift. I’d never actually seen one before in real life, a strange thing to admit maybe for a 56 year old man, but there it was in my lap: A positive pregnancy test.  We’d done it, conceived at our combined age of nearly 100!,  without any great stress or strain and I was thrilled  - even in my jet lagged state I felt elated and I kissed and hugged Sophia until she couldn’t take any more!

We skipped the vodka and went straight to bed, talking briefly about the details before falling asleep, both  of us exhausted for our different reasons. I spooned behind her with my hand resting on her belly and her hand over mine and smiled as I drifted to sleep.

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