#very funny to have the stove next to the toilet

[realityjoey]

MANLY WHATNOTS (1.4)

COLOUR KEY.

RED = lust / hot / tension / desire / dirty / overprotective

ORANGE = family / friends moments

GREEN = anger / jealousy / hatred

BLUE = sad / denial / confusion / isolation

PURPLE = romantic / cute / they’re so in love / caring

PINK = funny / sarcasm

A few days later, Joey was taking a morning shower before work. She was soaking in the comforting hot water, causing the whole bathroom to steam up. She had been in the shower longer than usual as her mind wouldn’t switch off from returning to the memory of being shot— as well as filling with confusion whenever she thought about Lucifer and all of the happenings that have occurred that she has failed to find an explanation to.

Interrupting Joey’s train of overwhelming thoughts, she’s snapped back to reality when she hears a clatter from downstairs. Naturally, Joey instantly switches off the shower, the water coming to a halt. She wraps a towel around her body, picking up her gun which she’d left on top of the toilet seat. She never lets it leave her side (that’s paranoia for you).

Joey then slowly and quietly tip toed out of the bathroom, pointing her gun in front of her as she creeps downstairs. She doesn’t see anything as she walks into the main room, although she notices there happens to be food cooking on the stove.

Joey furrows her eyebrows— she hadn’t made any food. Suddenly, she hears a thump come from the other side of the room. She spins around, flinching when she sees Lucifer. “Lucifer?” She gasps, accidentally dropping her towel to a pool at her feet in the fast movement spinning around.

Lucifer’s breath hitches in his throat at the site of a very naked Joey. “Well, good morning, Detective.” He checks her out, placing his hands in his trouser pockets, taking a step closer to her.

Joey’s mind eventually switches back on, as she hurriedly grabs the towel from the floor, re-covering herself, slightly embarrassed.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Joey asks, pissed off.

“Setting the table.” Lucifer smiles, indicating to the neatly presented table.

“You broke into my house?” Joey states.

“Yes, well, I hope you don’t mind but I made a little brekkie. You were taking forever in the shower.” He explains, walking over to the frying pan, holding the handle. “What do you do in there?” He asks suggestively, looking her up and down.

“You are unbelievable.” Joey tells him.

“Oh, thank you, but it’s you who should take the compliment. Really kept things up since Hot Tub High School, haven’t we?” Lucifer compliments. “Ding dong.” He checks her out again.

Joey sighs. “I want to shoot you.”

“Tease. Do it.” Lucifer quips. “I’m immortal, remember?” He reminds her. “Uh, do you have any truffle oil?” He asks.

“Lucifer, get out of my house now.” Joey instructs.

“We haven’t eaten yet.” Lucifer replies, as he searches the fridge.

“Out.” Joey stands her ground.

“Well, don’t we need to discuss the next case?” Lucifer suggests, finding any reason to be allowed to stay.

“There is no next case.” Joey says, taking the ingredients out of his hands, placing them on the table, grabbing his arm. “Out.”

Suddenly, the front door opens, entering Steve, Arlo, and Dev. “We’re already late, so let’s go.” Steve says, as Dev spots Lucifer.

“Lucifer!” Arlo shouts, running up to him, hugging his waist.

“Yeah..” Lucifer says awkwardly, flinching at the contact.

“What in God’s name is going on?” Steve asks, looking between Joey and Lucifer, an excited glint in his eyes.

“Nothing in his name. Here on my own, actually.” Lucifer replies, incapable of controlling his response when the big guy is mentioned.

“Did you and sissy have a sleepover?” Dev asks Lucifer, eyeing him up. Lucifer grins.

“No. No. Absolutely not, no.” Joey denies, looking at Steve. “What are you guys doing here anyway?” She changes subject.

“Arlo left his bird report here.” Steve answers.

“Want to see?” Arlo asks Lucifer, grabbing his hand, directing him to his room.

“Um, not really. Here, have a snack, child.” Lucifer offers, hovering a piece of bacon over Arlo’s head. Arlo grabs it.

“Are you sleeping with this guy?” Steve asks Joey, grinning.

“She hasn’t had the pleasure, unfortunately, no.” Lucifer answers, poking his head round Arlo’s bedroom door, expecting a bitter answer from whoever this Steve guy was— but he got the opposite.

“Well, it is very nice to meet you..” Steve says, walking up to Lucifer, holding a hand out for him to shake.

“Lucifer Morningstar.” Lucifer introduces, shaking Steve’s hand.

“Steve Mayberry.” Steve replies, smiling.

“It’s a pleasure.” Lucifer says, surprised at the warm welcome. “And you are Joey’s…” he whispers to Steve, confused at their dynamic.

“Let me see.” Steve says, thinking. “Part-time brother, part-time best friend, part-time guardian, part-time therapist. It’s complicated.”

“I see.” Lucifer nods, glad that they’re clearly platonically related.

“You never told me you were so close with such a ravishing gentleman, birdie.” Steve says, turning back to Joey who is glaring at him for multiple reasons.

“Keep your pants on, Mayberry.” Joey mumbles as Steve walks back over to her, Lucifer watching them with interest.

“And get yours off, girl.” Steve tells her, looking Lucifer up and down— who was very entertained at the way things had gone.

Suddenly, Arlo and Dev come running back out. Joey sighs, stressed out. “Okay, everybody out. Arlo and Dev have to get to school. I have to get to work. Come on, out, please.” She looks at Lucifer.

“No, no, no, no, no, you can’t throw me out again.” Lucifer argues.

“Again?” Steve’s eyebrows raise, another grin forming. “So this is a habit?” He questions, excitedly.

“Yes, shocking isn’t it?” Lucifer nods.

“No.” Joey shakes her head.

“Never been thrown out of anywhere before in my life.” Lucifer says, appalled. “Well, except for Heaven, of course.”

“You know what?” Steve says, looking at Lucifer. “To make up for little miss grumpy’s behaviour… take my number.” Steve says, handing him a piece of paper. “We’ll arrange something. A dinner, perhaps?” He suggests. “Hopefully Joey’s rude breakfast manners will have calmed by dinner time. She gets a little cranky in the mornings.” He whispers the last part to Lucifer, knowing Joey can still hear him.

Joey goes to protest against the idea, but Lucifer answers before she can say anything. “Oh, I would love to.” He grins. “I’ll leave you in peace for now, detective. But somebody please flip the omelette if it’s not already ruined.” He adds, leaving.

Once he’s left, Joey practically bursts. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“What do I think I’m doing? What do you think you’re doing?!” Steve retorts, “Turning down such a hunk like that.”

“Don’t say ‘hunk’.” Joey says, placing a palm to her face. “Steve—“

“No. I don’t want to hear it.” He interrupts. “You have a lot of explaining to do. Maybe at dinner with.. Mr. Morningstar.” He teases, winking. “Cmon, you two.” He shouts to Dev and Arlo, leaving.

After being kicked out, Lucifer had decided to visit Dr. Linda Martin. He storms into her office, seeing her. “Good. Right, you’re here. Um, I need to chat.”

“Lucifer, we don’t have an appointment.” Linda interrupts.

“Something very disturbing has just happened. It’s horrific, really.” He says, dramatically. “Uh, for the second time, I’ve been thrown out of a woman’s house.”

“Okay, sorry—“

“I mean, I’m starting to wonder if the detective has some sort of biological dysfunction.” Lucifer continues.

“Lucifer.” Linda says.

“Cause, I mean, I appeal to the virile urge in all women. Certainly, well, certainly you can attest to that, can’t you?” Lucifer says.

“Lucifer, stop.” Linda says.

“Yes, of course, sorry. Payment first.” He apologises, starting to unbutton his shirt.

“Uh, no. No, no, no, no, no. No! No!” Linda protests, placing a hand on his to stop him from continuing with the unbuttoning.

“Hmm?” Lucifer hums in confusion.

“Lucifer, this is George.” Linda says, looking at the patient on the sofa. Lucifer spins his head around, realising George has witnessed the whole thing. “George, Lucifer. Lucifer, George.” She introduces. George waves at Lucifer.

Lucifer chuckles. “Oops.”

Later on in the morning, Joey had gotten ready for work despite all the hassle, and was about to leave. She opens her front door, only to see Dan, fist in the air, about to knock.

“Dan, if you’re here to have a go at me..” Joey begins, knowing they’re going through a rough patch.

“No. I just got off the phone with the lieutenant. There’s a case.” He tells her. Joey lets Dan in, and he sits her down to explain things. A girl has gone missing. “Her name’s Lindsay Jolson. Just turned 22. She went missing catering a Players’ Club event.”

“Players’ Club?” Joey questions.

“It’s one of those sleazy pickup artist groups.” Dan tells her. “You know, that teach geeks how to be sex gods.”

“Got it.” Joey nods, grimacing.

“Lindsay was last seen talking to the lead scumbag.” Dan says, facing the ipad to Joey with a photo. “The founder, Carver Cruz.”

“So he was interrogated?” Joey asks.

“Yep, but his lawyer did all the talking.” Dan replies. “And with no proof, we’re stuck.” He says. “But, there’s a Players’ seminar and after-party today. And you need to go undercover.”

“Why me? I’m homicide.” Joey asks.

“Because you’re out best way in.” Dan tells her.

“I am?” Joey says.

“Apparently these events are pretty exclusive, and when I saw the guest list, I recognised one of the names.” He says, Joey furrowing her eyebrows. “I guess a lot of high-end club owners are invited.”

“Oh, come on.” Joey scoffs. Dan just looks at her. “No. You’re kidding.”

Dan chuckles. “I wish I was.”

“Lucifer’s on the list?” She asks.

“Yeah.” Dan nods.

“Yeah, of course he is.” Joey mumbles.

Dan sighs. “Look… the last thing I want is the guy who actively wants to sleep with my best friend’s — who trusted me to keep an eye on you— little sister spending more time with her. But…”

“This is the best option.” Joey finishes.

“I wouldn’t ask, but I just keep thinking, what if this was my daughter?” He says. “What if this was Devon?”

Lucifer had to wait for Linda to finish with George, although now, he’s able to voice his problem.

“The detective seems like a very lovely woman.” Linda says.

“Well, I suppose, but still, she’s human. Why is she able to refuse my charms?” Lucifer questions. “I mean, is this thing on?” He points up an down himself.

“Yes, yes. Definitely on.” Linda assures him. She then sighs, “It’s not that you’re afraid that you don’t have power over Joey. It’s that you’re afraid that she has power over you, but neither one is true.”

“No?” Lucifer questions.

“No. People don’t just have power over us. We give it to them. You have to take your power back.” She tells him.

“Right, go on.” Lucifer tells her, uncrossing his legs, leaning forward in curiosity.

“You say she’s nothing special, but I think you’ve put her on a pedestal.” Linda explains. “You need to really get to know her, flaws and all.” She chuckles. “From my brief meeting with her, and what you’ve told me, I’m sure she has some. So, demystify her by brining her back down to your own level.

“You’re right.” Lucifer smiles. “It’s not her, it’s me. I need to take back control. I need to behave like I always have.”

“Good. So you understand?” Linda double-checks, as Lucifer likes to twist her words sometimes.

“Yes. Yes.” Lucifer chuckles. “I mean, it seems obvious now, actually. I need to have sex with her.”

“Uh… no, uh, that’s not what I said.” Linda stutters, shocked— yet also not— that Lucifer has come up with another solution.

“No, no, no, you’re a genius.” Lucifer compliments. “I mean, that’s the best way to lose interest, right?” He says, standing up. “Thanks, love.” He kisses her cheek. “Payment next time, okay?” He tells her, rushing out of the room.

Later, Joey had easily convinced Lucifer to join her on the Lindsay Jolson case. They were walking through the streets of L.A while Joey debriefs the situation.

“Her name’s Lindsay Jolson.” Joey begins.

“Mm-hmm.” Lucifer nods, not paying attention.

“She’s been missing almost three full days.” Joey reads off the file, burying her head in it as they walk.

“Right, so just ask my one more time.” Lucifer requests.

“Lucifer, there’s a girl missing.” Joey scolds.

Lucifer chuckles. “Yes, it’s just not everyday that someone kicks you out of their house, then three hours later asks you on a date.” He shrugs, as they stop walking, having reached Joey’s parked car.

“It’s not a date. It’s a work thing.” Joey corrects.

“Oh?” Lucifer nods, pouting.

“And are you gonna help me or not?” She asks, fed up.

Lucifer checks her out. “Alright.” He agrees. “But only ‘cause it coincides perfectly with my own plan.” He smirks at her, leaning on the bonnet of the car.

“And what plan is that?” Joey asks.

“Well, to have sex with you, of course.” Lucifer replies boldly.

Joey’s jaw almost drops at his openness. She laughs (a little nervously). “Okay. Wait, you and I… well, there is no you and I.” She corrects herself. “There’s a professional situation, and I just need you—“

“See, you need me.” Lucifer interrupts.

“The department needs you, because you’re the one—“

“I’m the one?” Lucifer questions, placing a hand on his heart, smirking.

Joey starts getting irritated. “… on the list for the Player thing.” She eventually finishes off.

“You’re quite adorable when you’re flustered.” Lucifer flirts.

“I… I’m not flustered.” Joey denies. “I’m nauseous.”

“And now you’re blushing; I’d say I’m making headway.” Lucifer grins.

“Okay, look, let me make myself perfectly clear.” Joey begins, stepping closer to him, their faces dangerously close that Lucifer can’t resist but let his eyes wander down to her lips, before staring lustfully into her eyes. “I will never, ever, ever sleep with you. Never.” She states. “Okay? Got it?”

“Playing hard to get, I like it.” Lucifer replies.

“When Hell freezes over, Lucifer.” Joey says, walking away to get in the car.

“I can arrange that, actually.” He calls, remaining on the bonnet.

“Get in the car.” Joey tells him sternly, before she gets in the car.

Shortly afterwards, they arrive at the venue for the Players’ Club. As they walk through the entrance, they are greeted by multiple women wearing little to no clothes. “Well, hello.” Lucifer grins at them.

“Here you are, Mr. Morningstar.” A blonde woman says, placing Lucifer’s name card into his blazer pocket whilst running a hand down his chest.

“Well, thank you, lovely.” Lucifer replies.

Joey shakes her head. “And here’s something else you might need.” She adds, scribbling down her number on a slip of paper, placing it in his other pocket.

“Well, yes, that might come in handy.” Lucifer agrees. “Pardon the pun.” He says, as him and Joey walk away.

Just as they leave the blonde girl’s company, someone else is rushing towards them. “Did you just number close the name tag girl?” A random guy asks Lucifer, a mixture of impression and jealousy.

Lucifer pouts at him. “Use this wisely. You’re welcome.” He says, putting the slip of paper with the girl’s number in the other guys pocket who smiles gratefully.

“I can’t believe you.” Joey says as they walk away.

“Don’t worry, Detective. I’m more of a leg man myself.” He assures her, referring to the blonde girl who had her cleavage on display. “Soon as you say the word, you’ll have your turn.”

“Wow, you’ve never been rejected by a woman, have you?” Joey realises.

“No.” Lucifer replies. Joey shakes her head, laughing, when their attention is caught by somebody else.

“I want to talk to Carver Cruz!” A guy shouts, being denied entrance by the security guard.

“I need you to leave right now, sir.” The security guard tells him.

“Carver!” The guy yells. “Carver, can you hear me?!”

“It’s the missing girl’s brother.” Joey recognises him.

“What’d you do to my sister?!” Lindsay’s brother, Kevin shouts. “Get out here, you coward!” He says. Joey decides to rush over, Lucifer close behind.

“It’s okay. I got this. I know him.” She lies to the security guard.

“No, you don’t.” Kevin tells her.

“Look, I’m sorry. He has to leave the premises.” The security guard says.

“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary, officer.” Lucifer says. “Besides, isn’t this quite boring?” He leans forward. “I mean, there are several lovely ladies milling around out there. Which one do you desire?”

The security guard stares into Lucifer’s eyes. “You. I’m gay.” He answers.

“Oh!” Lucifer says, unexpectedly. “Right. Well, my dance card’s full with this one, I’m afraid.” Lucifer rejects him, looking at Joey. “But the odds are definitely in your favour out there. Probably not batting for the same team, but you never know.” He says, as they look around the room. “So go on, then. Go forth and conquer. I know you want to.”

“Yeah.” The security guard smiles, leaving to mingle.

“Right.” Lucifer nods. “Off you pop.”

“You’re Lindsay’s brother.” Joey says to Kevin.

“How’d you know that?” Kevin asks her.

“Because she’s a cop.” Lucifer answers.

“Great. Say that louder. I don’t think everyone heard you.” Joey says, sarcastically.

“Right. Sorry.” Lucifer starts whispering. “Yes, we’re here undercover to find out what happened to your sister.” He says, still whispering— obnoxiously.

“If you can help me, I’ll tell you what happened.” Kevin says. “Carver killed her.”

“Killed her? You sure about that?” Joey asks.

“No, but… look, I know my sister. She’s a good person. She’s sweet. She wouldn’t just run off. She’s not even from L.A. I’m all she has out here. She’s all I have.” Kevin explains.

“Kevin, I promise you, if anyone here hurt your sister, I’ll find them.” Joey promises.

“And I’ll punish them.” Lucifer adds. “Any method you prefer. Nice solid flogging. Get the ol’ swamp nuts in a vice, you know.”

“Okay. It’s time to go now.” Joey tells Kevin. “Let us handle this, and if we hear anything, we’ll be in touch.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Kevin whispers.

“Yeah.” Joey nods.

“We’ve got this.” Lucifer adds, patting Kevin’s shoulder.

Kevin then leaves, and Joey and Lucifer make their way to the main hall for Carver’s speech. “You have to admit, we’re quite a good team.” Lucifer says. “If you weren’t so pent-up sexually, we’d be firing on all cylinders, I’d say.”

“I am not pent-up. I’m just not interested.” Joey replies, shrugging.

“I beg to differ.” Lucifer mutters.

They enter the main hall. “I’m assuming you learned most of your moves at events like these.” Joey comments, teasingly.

“I’ve never been to something like this is my life.” Lucifer denies. “I certainly don’t need help getting women into bed. Till..” He looks at her. “Were you hit on the head when you were small?” He asks, trying to find reasoning as to why she refuses to sleep with him. Joey simply sighs, as she tries to find their seats. “No?” Lucifer follows after her.

They sit down, and the show was beginning. ‘Eye of the Tiger’ begins playing as all the lights go off, flashing strobe lights onto the stage for Carver to make a dramatic entrance, everyone immediately cheering as the spotlight lands on him.

“We are biological machines.” Carver begins, his voice echoing from his microphone across the dimly lit room. “We… are warriors. We… are players!” He shouts, receiving cheers from the crowd as everyone except for Joey and Lucifer stand up, applauding. “Gentlemen, we are animals. Men are the wolves, and women… are the fluffy bunnies.” He says, laughter erupting from the crowd as Joey shakes her head subtly in disapproval— Lucifer watching her reaction. “So we must prepare ourselves for the hunt. How?” He asks. “Follow the list.” Him and the crowd say in harmony. “Yes! The C.K.C. The conduct of Kick-ass Cavemen. One: Be seen.” Carver says.

“People pay for this?” Lucifer says to Joey, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, $5,000 bucks.” Joey answers.

“Stand out. The peacock, the lion with his mane. Two: Be a protector. Duh. Women are hardwired to hook up with someone who can help them survive. It is simple biology, man. Three: Be brave. Take risks.” Carver continues.

“Oh, maybe you should take notes.” Joey teases, Lucifer sending her an unpleased look.

“Four: Be a leader of men. And the most elusive. Five: Be confident. You.. are… a player! Own it!” He yells, as the crowd once again— like clockwork— erupt into cheering.

“Excuse— excuse me!” Lucifer shouts, standing up from his seat. “Excuse me, question!”

“What are you doing?” Joey asks, looking up at him.

“The Q&A’s after the speech, buddy.” Carver replies. Everyone in the room’s attention is now focused on Lucifer.

“No, but it’s quite pressing.” Lucifer argues. “What if you have all those manly whatnots and a woman still doesn’t respond?”

“You may think you have them, but you don’t.” Carver states.

“Yeah.” Joey nods.

“That’s why you’re here, right?” Carver says. “So, gentlemen, you follow these rules, and you will bed any Betty you desire, guaranteed.” He continues, although Lucifer remains stood.

“No. No. No, no, no. I’m certain I’ve got everything on your little list, and more, actually, yet this woman here won’t have sex with me.” Lucifer interrupts again, looking and pointing at Joey. There’s a few laughs from the audience as Joey gasps, opening her mouth to say something, but deciding not to.

“Just listen to the speech, buddy.” Carver tells him. “The system works.”

“No, but I doubt that.” Lucifer disagrees. “Because… because if I can’t ’bed a Betty’, then how do you possible expect any of these poor miscreants to succeed?” He insults, looking around the room, causing a grumble from the majority of the crowd. “Especially when they’re taking advice from a—a wanker such as you?”

“Alright, just sit down, man.” Carver tells him, fed up.

“Yeah, Lucifer, sit down.” Joey agrees, tugging at his hand as Lucifer was currently ruining their plan of staying on the low.

“I— I just… could we get a spot light over here?” He requests. “Do we have that?” He chuckles, the spotlight then moves, focusing on Lucifer. “Yeah, yeah. But on— on her.” He directs, pointing above Joey’s head. Joey is trying to avoid eye contact with anyone and everyone out of pure embarrassment as the spotlight is now shining on her. “Good. Right. Now, you’re the expert. You tell me what’s wrong with this picture.” Lucifer asks Carver. “I mean, I’m me. Right?” He points proudly to himself. “And she… well, she’s a cop, for starters.” Lucifer exposes, Joey staring daggers at him.

Carver gulps. “She’s a cop?”

“Yes. I mean, talk about the shallow end of the dating pool.” Lucifer replies.

“This is private property.” Carver says, looking at Joey. “Unless you have a warrant, you need to leave here immediately. Security! Security, her, out.” He orders. “Okay, we’re gonna take a ten-minute intermission.” He announces to the audience. “Alright? Thank you.” He makes his way to exit the stage.

“I haven’t finished.” Lucifer calls, but he’s too late, as Carver has already escaped backstage.

Next thing they know, two security guards appear next to Lucifer. “Oh, it’s you again.” Lucifer smirks, recognising the security guard from before. Joey shakes her head in disbelief as they get escorted out of the building.

Once they had been kicked out, Joey had to break the news to her Lieutenant. She was currently on the phone with her, as her and Lucifer walk down the street, back to her car. “I know, I’m— I’m sorry, Lieutenant.” She apologises. “I… No. No. I’ve got it under control. And Mr. Morningstar, too, yes.”

“Let me talk to him.” Lucifer tells Joey.

“It’s a her, and no.” Joey replies, covering the microphone of her phone.

“Really? Your boss is a she?” He smirks. “Even better. Give me the phone, I’ll fix it.”

“No, you can’t fix this! You’ve already said enough.” She says angrily. “Sorry! Not you.” She says to the Lieutenant. “Yes I— I’ll figure out a way into the party. It’s not a problem. And— and again, I..” She goes to apologise, only to realise she’s been hung up on.

“So we’re going to the Players after-party.” Lucifer grins, as they stop walking.

“Not you. I am.” Joey corrects.

“Well, I’m not sure how that’s possible, now that you’ve blown your cover.” Lucifer scoffs.

“Well, that was 100% your fault.” She smiles sarcastically, placing her hands on her hips.

“I beg to differ. None of that would have happened if you’d just complied with my request.” Lucifer shrugs.

“Do you honestly think you can just ask people to have sex with you and they will?” She questions.

“Well, I usually don’t have to ask, actually. But trust me, it’d be a win-win. And probably another win after that. I mean, I have tremendous stamina.” Lucifer brags.

“There’s a girl missing, Lucifer.” Joey reminds him, for what feels like the hundredth time today. “She’s probably in some hellhole somewhere, scared out of her mind, if she’s even still alive. And I found out the party is a cash-only event. That’s a first for Carver. So, our only suspect’s probably about to run off to Mexico, and you’re worried about boning me?”

“You’re right. Sorry. Let’s find the girl. Okay?” Lucifer agrees.

“Yes.” Joey nods.

“Sex later.” He grins, receiving the all so familiar glare from Joey. “Kidding.” He says. “Sort of..” Joey sighs. “So, where’s the party?”

“Cold Bar.” Joey answers.

“Really?” Lucifer asks, Joey nods. “Well, that place is notoriously overpriced to rent. If Carver wants cash, he shouldn’t have it there.”

“No, he shouldn’t.” Joey agrees, eyes widening. “I think I just figured out how you can fix this.” She says, hurrying off.

“Oh?” Lucifer says. “Do tell.” He follows.

Later in the evening, before the party, Joey had arrived at Lux. The elevator door to Lucifer’s penthouse opened, looking almost empty— Lucifer was no where to be seen. “Uh… hello?” Joey calls out, stepping out of the lift. “Uh, Lucifer?”

“Be out in a moment. Just getting ready.” Lucifer calls in a cheerful voice from his bedroom.

“Okay.” Joey calls back. “Uh, did you do what I told you to do and call Carver about the Players’ Club?”

“Make yourself a drink, Detective.” Lucifer tells her, ignoring her question.

“No. No. No more drinks. No more blurred lines. No more breaking into my house or trying to sleep with me.” Joey declines. “Look, this is a professional relationship, I’m a police officer, and you—“ She rambles, pacing the floor until she turns round, only to be met with Lucifer standing before her, completely naked. Joey gasps, unable to stop her eyes from wandering to a certain body part— eyes widening at the sight. She laughs nervously, “…are naked.” She finishes off her sentence, before spinning around, facing her back to him.

“Speaking of my surprise visit yesterday, I decided turnabouts fair play.” Lucifer tells her. “You know, tit for tat sort of thing.” He chuckles.

“This is beyond inappropriate.” Joey says, remaining facing away from him.

“And brave, wouldn’t you say? Number three on the C.K.C list: take risks.” He recalls from Carver’s speech.

Joey coughs, trying to prepare herself to turn back around. She slowly looks over her shoulder whilst grabbing the towel Lucifer had flung over the sofa. “Okay.” She says. “Lucifer, put some freakin’ clothes on.” She tells him, now facing him fully, tossing him the towel.

“Alright.” Lucifer chuckles. “But seriously, darling, are you well? The berries are ripe and ready to be harvested.” He says, wrapping the towel around his waist. “I mean, look at me, huh?” He says proudly, pointing to his figure.

Lucifer then turns around slowly, showing himself off. For a moment, Joey is fixated on his muscles and impressive body, until she notices two unusual (and painful) looking scars.

“Now, you can’t argue with that, can you?” He says, now facing her again.

Joey walks up to him, a concerned look on her face. “What happened to…” She says, pointing over her shoulder indicating her back. “My god.”

“Oh, oh.” Lucifer realises what she’s seen. “Well, yes, I suppose it is his fault.”

“Whose fault?” Joey asks, worriedly.

“My father.” Lucifer answers.

“Your dad did that to you?” Joey replies, eyes widening.

“No, no, no. That’s where I cut my wings off.” Lucifer corrects.

Joey sighs in confusion and shock. “What?”

“Well I didn’t. Maze did. I told her to.” He elaborates.

“N—No. Seriously.” Joey shakes her head, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, turning him to the side slightly to have another look. “What is that?” She asks, going to trace her fingertips on it, before Lucifer whips around, grabbing her wrist tightly and stopping her from doing so.

“Don’t please.” He says, an expression covering his face that she’d never seen on him before, one of vulnerability and a hint of sadness.

Lucifer loosens his grip on her wrist but doesn’t fully let go. “Okay.” Joey whispers softly, realising this is a sensitive moment.

Lucifer lets go of her wrist. “I should get dressed. Otherwise, we’ll miss the party.” Lucifer changes the topic, jogging back into his bedroom.

A moment goes by. “So you did make the call?” She asks, also changing the topic.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes.” Lucifer calls, before popping his head round the corner again. “Party’s at Lux. Turns out the words ‘open bar’ are indeed effective. So, good on you.” He says, before disappearing again.

“Okay.” Joey nods.

He reappears again, this time with a top on, still showing Joey a clear view of his abs as he begins buttoning up. “You can’t go wearing that scruffy little getup.” He tells her, pointing at her outfit. “You’ll stick out like a sore cop.” He says, as Joey looks down at herself, sighing.

Lucifer had lended Joey a red dress, and it was safe to say she looked unreal. The pair of them were walking down the stairs of the club when Joey asks, “Where did you get this dress anyhow?”

“Oh, it was left behind by one of my overnight guests.” Lucifer answers.

Joey shakes her head even though she was expecting that response. “What was she wearing when she left?”

“A smile.” Lucifer grins.

“Mm.” Joey hums. “If I get an STD from this thing, I’m gonna kill you.” She warns, pointing at the dress.

“Oh, there he is.” Lucifer says, having noticed Carver.

“Oh, he doesn’t look suspicious at all.” Joey says looking at him.

“Hmm, so what’s the plan, Detective?” Lucifer asks.

“Avoid him for now. Mingle, find people who were at the party last week. See if anyone saw Carver with our missing girl.” Joey explains.

“Hey.” A random guy approaches her before Lucifer can reply to her plan.

“Hi.” Joey replies.

“Are you from Tennessee?” He asks.

“No.” Joey says.

“Because you’re the only ten I see.” The guy flirts, an awkward attempt at the pick up line.

“Oh, you poor soul.” Lucifer says. “Does that actually work?”

“No.” The guy says, sadly.

“No, I didn’t think so.” Lucifer replies.

Joey laughs to interrupt Lucifer’s further insults. “It’s cute.” She shrugs.

“It—it is?” The guy’s face lights up in shock.

“Yeah.” Joey nods, glancing at Lucifer before turning to the guy, leaning in closely. “You’re cute. You’re really cute.” She compliments him, Lucifer feeling a sense of jealousy as the guy looks at Joey almost mesmerised. “Hey, were you at that party last week?”

“Uh, no, actually, this is my first.” The guy answers.

“Okay.” Joey cuts him off, stepping back, patting his arm.

Only a second later, another guy appears on Joey’s other side. “I love this song!” He practically shouts at her.

“Okay.” Joey giggles, now knowing a way to find information. “Hey, were you at the party last week?” She shouts over the music, but he doesn’t reply, carries on dancing. Then, another gnu approaches, looking Joey up and down.

Lucifer takes her arm, pulling her to the side away from the desperate men. “Uh, I think the dress may have backfired, actually.” He tells her, before catching Carver’s eye. The pair watch as Carver makes eye contact with them, before rushing in the opposite direction. “Clearly a man with nothing to hide.” Lucifer says sarcastically.

Joey then hurries after Carver, having noticed a gun in his pocket. Carver sees Joey close on his tail, and pulls the gun out, pointing it at everyone around him. “Move! Get out of the way!” He threatens, as people begin screaming, ducking to the ground.

“Give me the gun, Carver.” Lucifer says, smiling as he tauntingly walks closer to him, as everybody moves out the way to give them space.

“Just—just let me go, okay? I need to go!” Carver yells, now pointing his gun directly at Lucifer.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, but I do have another option for you. How about a broken back, hmm?” He suggests, as he watches Joey creep up behind him, hitting him in the back, pushing him on the top of the piano lid, pulling his arm back and away from him to cause a rush of pain to go shooting through him. Carver drops his gun on the floor as he groans in pain.

“You don’t understand. I have to go! They’re gonna kill her now!” He says, panicking. “You just killed Lindsay!”

“They? They who?” Joey asks, tightening her grip on him.

Carver hesitates. “The people who took her.”

Joey and Lucifer glanced at each other, before deciding to evacuate everybody out of Lux, needing to talk to Carver in private. They took him up to the penthouse, where he was now being questioned by Joey. Carver was sat on one of the chairs, opposite the sofa Joey was sat on as Lucifer observes them from a few feet away.

“Where’s Lindsay?” Joey asks him.

“I don’t know, okay?” Carver replies, frustrated. “I swear to you, somebody kidnapped her.”

“If that’s the case then why wouldn’t you go to the cops?” Joey asks, wrapping herself further in Lucifer’s blazer jacket that he’d let her wear.

“Because they said they’d kill her if I did.” Carver replies. “Maybe they already have.”

Lucifer then walks up to Joey, handing her a glass of whiskey, “Excuse me, dear. I don’t know why we bother with all these pithy little police questions.” He says to her, before he takes a seat next to Carver. “Tell me… what game’s the player playing, eh? What are you after?”

“I just want Lindsay back.” Carver answers honestly. “I swear, I would never hurt her. I love her.” He confesses.

“But… she’s a fluffy bunny. You’re a wolf. You— you’ve built an empire on the objectification of women.” Lucifer reminds him.

“Yeah, I know. I’m a complete hypocrite.” Carver bites back. “But I— I would give anything to get her back.”

“You humans.” Lucifer scoffs. “You never cease to amaze.”

“Okay, Carver, say what you’re saying is true. How long have you and Lindsay been together?” Joey questions.

“Four months.” He answers. “Next Tuesday. I tried to keep it quiet, ‘cause, you know, I’m the man and everything. I guess it got out.”

“So you’re saying you slept with Lindsay on multiple occasions, but you still want to be with her?” Lucifer asks.

“Yes, and for the rest of my life.” Carver replies passionately.

“What, after four months you haven’t got her… you know, out of your system? How’s that possible?” He chuckles, confused.

“Okay.” Joey interrupts, shaking her head at Lucifer. “You have no idea where they’re holding Lindsay?” She asks Carver.

“No. But they did send this to me.” Carver says, suddenly remembering the photo he’d been sent, scrambling for his phone. “After the seminar.” He says, flipping his phone to show Joey and Lucifer the photo of Lindsay. “Said no more cops or she’s dead.”

“So the kidnappers were there yesterday?” Joey adds up.

“I just hope they weren’t at the party.” Carver worries. “If they hurt her… I—“

“It’s okay.” Joey cuts him off before he can get too overwhelmed, neither of them noticing Lucifer grab Carver’s phone, standing up and wandering off to the balcony. “Is there anyone you suspect that might do this to you? Enemies?”

“Uh, I’m kind of a polarising guy.” Carver reminds her. “Okay, the hater list is long.”

“Hello there, this is Lucifer Morningstar.” Joey hears Lucifer say from the balcony. She furrows her eyebrows before walking out to see what he’s doing.

“Who are you talking to?” She asks, suspiciously.

“Shh.” Lucifer shushes, placing a finger to his lips.

“Do not shush me.” Joey tells him, offended. “Who’s on the phone?”

“All one word, that’s right. Yes, I’ll be speaking on Carver’s behalf from now on.” Lucifer continues speaking on the phone, as Joey begins to realise who he’s talking to. Lucifer chuckles, “No, I’m not a cop. I assure you.”

“Is that the..” Joey whispers, tugging on his arm.

Lucifer turns to her, covering the microphone. “Yes, it’s the kidnappers.” He whispers.

“What are you doing..” Joey whispers, shaking her head.

“Of course we have the money. Just give me the time and location.” Lucifer says, turning his back to Joey again.

Joey taps his arm aggressively. “Give me the phon—“

Lucifer starts tutting her to stop her from talking. “No, I promise you, no police. Alright? Okay then. See you shortly, bye-bye.” Lucifer says.

“Wait, wait.” Joey says. “Wait, we need proof of life.”

“Oh.” Lucifer says, bringing the phone back to his ear. “Um, just a minute. How do we know Lindsay’s still alive?” He asks, but gets no response. “No, they’ve hung up.” He says to Joey.

“What are you doing?” Carver asks, walking onto the balcony.

“Not to worry. I’ve handled it.” Lucifer tells him, as Joey begins pacing. “I’ll be making an exchange on your behalf this evening. Cash for your lady love, alright?”

“Really?” Carver says. “Uh, but why would you do that for me?”

Lucifer chuckles. “Well, isn’t it obvious?” He steals a glance at Joey. “Number two on your list: be a protector. Is it working?” He asks Joey, grinning.

“You’re not doing this alone.” Joey states.

“Afraid so. I promised, no police.” Lucifer disagrees. “A deal’s a deal, especially one with the Devil.” He chuckles. “Besides, I’m the only one not risking his life on this. Immortal, remember?” He raises his eyebrows at Joey.

Carver looks between them with confusion, until his phone chimes. He presses a button, and a video begins playing. “Carver, I’m alright. I’m a… I don’t know where I am.” Lindsay cries. “Please come get me. I love you. Please.”

The video finishes, Carver has a horrified look on his face. “I’m coming with you.” He states.

“No, I can’t let you do that.” Joey shakes her head. “I’m not gonna call this in, but you have to stay here. No discussion.” She then turns to Lucifer. “I’m coming with you.”

“Fine. You’ll have to wait in the car.” Lucifer sighs.

Lucifer and Joey had then set off to meet at the location they had been sent. Joey parks outside the abandoned building. She looks at the clock, impatiently.

“Ten more minutes. Patience.” Lucifer says.

“Something doesn’t feel right.” Joey replies, staring ahead looking out for any movement.

“Well, of course it doesn’t. It’s a kidnapping.” Lucifer smirks. “Cool ranch puff?” He offers, holding a bag of crisps to her.

“No thanks.” Joey declines.

“No?” Lucifer replies.

“Mm.” Joey shakes her head.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? You’d think the king of hellfire would be more of a flaming hot guy, but, love these bad boys.” He says, popping one into his mouth.

Joey chuckles slightly. “Okay, let’s say you really are the Devil. All powerful, immortal, blah, blah, blah. Does that mean you don’t feel pain at all?” She asks.

“Mmm. I like this line of questioning.” Lucifer grins. “Does this mean you’re finally coming around?”

“No.” Joey shakes her head. “Just answer the question.”

Lucifer chuckles, watching her as she keeps her focus on the building and their surroundings. “Well, I… I do feel something, but it’s not pain so much, as, uh, a pressure, a nuisance, really.” He describes.

“Okay, so what does it feel like if you get shot?” Joey asks. Lucifer pauses, before reaching over and flicking Joey’s arm. “Ow.” She says.

“Well, you asked.” Lucifer shrugs.

“But that’s it? Like, a bullet just bounces off you?” Joey asks, surprised.

“Well, there’s no wound or blood, if that’s what you mean.” Lucifer answers. “Can verify with something sharp if you’d like.” He says, seductively.

“No, it’s not necessary. Tempting, though.” Joey says.

“So, does this mean that you believe me?” Lucifer asks, smiling. “I’m afraid I can’t offer anything obvious like a tail as proof.”

“And so, no horns.” Joey says.

“No, afraid not.” Lucifer sighs. “That’s the stuff on movies and TV. They always get it wrong.”

“Well, look, I— I have to admit, I’ve seen some things that I can’t explain, but I don’t believe in all that Bible stuff.” Joey chuckles.

“So you’re an atheist. How ironic.” Lucifer smirks.

“No, not exactly. I do believe there’s good and evil and right and wrong. But the whole fiery damnation thing, no.” Joey explains.

“Does it scare you?” Lucifer asks her, intrigued on her perspective of things.

“No, I mean, how could I be scared of something that I don’t believe in?” Joey replies.

“Do I scare you?” Lucifer asks, seriously.

Joey pauses, taking a moment to look into his eyes. “No.” She says softly. Lucifer looks at her with a strange admiration. “Is that Carver?” She then whispers, eyes once again focused in front of her.

“Hmm?” Lucifer hums, looking in the same direction as her, noticing Carver creeping along the side of the building.

“How did he get here?” Joey says, irritated.

Lucifer sighs. “Oh, well he must have followed us. Well done, Detective.”

“No, he didn’t follow us. He must have gotten the address somehow.” Joey replies.

“Or someone told him.” Lucifer suggests.

“Either way, he’s gonna get someone killed, probably himself.” She mutters, as Carver opens one of the side doors to the building and walks in.

“This love thing makes you all quite stupid, doesn’t it?” Lucifer comments, as they both step out of the car, making their way to the same door Carver had entered.

Joey immediately gets her gun out, pointing it in front of her, prepared for anything. “Lucifer!” She whisper-shouts as he speeds ahead of her. “Lucifer!” She repeats, jogging to catch up with him as he opens the door, enters the building and shuts it behind him. Joey then reaches the door, and she can see him though the metal wires of the door. Lucifer looks at her, before locking the door, Joey hearing the lock click.

“Sorry, but I gave my word— no police.” Lucifer tells her.

“Seriously?” Joey whispers, annoyed.

“Don’t worry, Detective. I’m immortal, remember?” Lucifer calls, as he sets off walking into the building.

“I knew it.” Joey mumbles to herself, grabbing her phone from her pocket. The line rings for a second before somebody picks up. “Hey, guys, I’m gonna need you sooner than I thought. Is SWAT ready?” She asks.

Meanwhile, inside the building, Carver had been wandering through it aimlessly as everywhere looked the same, until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He screams out of shock, but tries to play it off by turning it into a laugh when he realises it’s Lucifer.

“Manly as ever.” Lucifer comments. “Why are you here? We had a perfectly good plan in place.”

“Well, after you left, the kidnappers called back. They said they changed their minds, and I come or the deal’s off.” Carver explains.

“Ooh, that sounds sinister.” Lucifer grins.

“Just hand over the cash.” A voice calls, causing Lucifer to turn around, being met with the kidnapper who was dressed in all black, a balaclava covering his face. “And no one gets hurt.”

“Yes, right. Got it here.” Lucifer says, holding up the black duffle bag in his hands, stepping to hand it over.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Where’s Lindsay?” Carver reminds Lucifer. “I want to see her!”

“No. My rules.” The kidnapper replies, stepping closer to them. “Money first.” He holds out his hand for the duffle bag.

“Now, Mr. Kidnapper, I believe that’s a fair request, actually, so just pop her around and the money’s yours.” Lucifer says.

The kidnapper pauses, before pouncing forwards, grabbing the duffle bag with both of his hands, attempting to take it— yet, failing miserably due to Lucifer’s strength.

“Greedy little jackal, aren’t you?” Lucifer says, as the kidnapper grunts, still trying to pull it out of his hand.

“Give it to me!” The kidnapper says, using his whole body weight to try and sway the bag his way.

Lucifer chuckles. “Most certainly will not.”

“Hey f— forget it!” Carver calls. “Just— just give it to him!” He tells Lucifer. “I just want her back.”

Lucifer lets go of the duffle bag. “Fine.” He says as the kidnapper stumbles back, clutching the bag. “Now bring us the girl.”

“I’m sorry. That’s not gonna happen.” The kidnapper says.

Lucifer chuckles, as Carver steps forward angrily. “I will kill you!” He threatens, as Lucifer holds out an arm to prevent him from getting any closer to the kidnapper.

“Oh, it’s going to happen.” Lucifer assures him. “A deal’s a deal.”

“I am not leaving here without Lindsay.” Carver shouts, then whips out his gun, pointing it at the kidnapper. “No way.”

Lucifer sighs. “Dearie me.” He says, standing in front of Carver’s aim. “What is it about you and guns, eh?”

Joey had managed to find another way into the building, and was sneaking about, trying to find everybody, when she hears a gun shot.

“Carver?” Lucifer says, as Carver’s face goes pale.

“Oh no.” Carver says, voice croaky as he looks behind him to where the shot came from. He sees Lindsay standing there, gun pointing at him before he falls to the ground. “Lindsay?” He says weakly, looking up at her.

“Wait. Lindsay Lindsay?” Lucifer asks. “Love of your life Lindsay?”

“Yeah, sorry, but I can’t let you shoot my brother.” Lindsay says, holding the gun.

“What’s up, jackass?” The kidnapper says, removing his balaclava, revealing himself as Kevin, Lindsay’s brother.

“I don’t understand.” Carver says.

“Don’t you though? This foul woman and her backward brother played the player.” Lucifer realises. “Lindsay kidnapper herself. Hell truly hath no fury like a woman scorned. You did scorn her, didn’t you?” He looks down at Carver.

“No. No.” Carver wheezes. “For the first time in my life, I didn’t. I loved her.” He then looks to Lindsay. “I love you.”

“Love me?” Lindsay repeats. “Are you kidding? You didn’t even remember my name!” She shouts.

“What are you talking about?” Carver asks.

“I met you two years ago, Carver. We slept together. And then you never called me again. Guess I was research for your stupid book.” She tells him.

“No, no, that’s not possible.” Carver shakes his head. “No, I— I would’ve remembered.”

“Nope.” Lindsay shakes her head. “I met you at the library. It’s a good place to score desperate babes. That’s in Chapter 11, I believe.”

“Oh, that’s bad.” Lucifer comments.

“I was a virgin, Carver.” Lindsay tells him.

“That’s worse.” Lucifer chuckles, looking at Carver.

“It was just another night for you, but it was a big deal for me.” Lindsay says, tears welling.

“Oh, God, I’m… I am so sorry, Lindsay.” Carver apologises. “I— I’m different now.”

“No, I don’t think so. But I am.” Lindsay replies.

“Okay, may I speak now?” Lucifer interrupts. “Because I happen to be an expert on punishment, and I’m not sure it fits the crime here. I mean, Carver made a mistake— well, several really— but… you’re different. He’s changed. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” He asks Lindsay.

“Shut up.” Kevin tells him. “You shouldn’t even be here. Now you’re dead, too. Shoot them, Linds.”

“Sorry, can’t let you do that, darling.” Lucifer says, slowly making his way over to Lindsay. “I mean, I’m indestructible, but he’s off limits as well, I’m afraid.” He refers to Carver.

“No, she’s right. I— I deserve it.” Carver says sadly.

“No, you don’t.” Lucifer looks at him. “I mean, chlamydia, the clap, raging case of crabs— that’s what you deserve, not death.” He turns back to Lindsay, chuckling softly. “And you… how are you any better? Why do humans think they can rectify one evil with another?” He asks, getting closer. “I mean, it’s clearly the first time this reptile has truly loved a woman, and this is his reward?”

“Get away from her!” Kevin shouts, running up to Lucifer. Lucifer senses his presence, throwing his arm out to his side, hitting Kevin right in the throat, sending him to the floor, choking.

Lucifer switches to his Devil face momentarily, staring at Lindsay, then back to normal. “Oh, god.” She whimpers, stepping back. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Lucifer says, cornering her.

“Please don’t hurt me.” Lindsay begs, holding her hands up and kneeling to the ground.

“Why does everyone say that before they’re punished?” Lucifer mutters, towering over her.

“Don’t kill me!” She cries.

“Lucifer.” Joey’s voice calls, as she walks into the room, holding her gun out. “Don’t move.” She tells him, Lucifer’s back facing her. Joey then catches a glimpse of something frightening in the mirror— a reflection of Lucifer’s face, yet it wasn’t his face. “Who are you?” She trembles slightly. Lucifer faces her, looking normal now. “What are you? Did you do this?” She asks, looking at Carver wounded on the ground next to an injured Kevin and petrified Lindsay.

“I’ve been trying to tell you, I’m the Devil.” Lucifer replies.

Joey shakes her head. “That’s… that’s not possible.”

“I asure you, Detective, it is.” Lucifer says. “I mean, you’ve said yourself there are things you can’t explain. You need more proof? You’ve got the gun. Come on, shoot me.”

“No, I can’t shoot you.” Joey argues.

“Sure you can. Go on, give her a squeeze, we’ll be good to go.” Lucifer continues.

“No.” Joey resists.

“Just shoot me, Detective!” He raises his voice. “Please! Because maybe you’ll finally realise—“ and before Lucifer can finish his sentence, Joey impulsively pulls the trigger, shooting him in the leg. “Good for you!” Lucifer shouts. “See? Hardly hurts.” He smiles, as Joey’s jaw drops at what she’s done.

“I can’t believe…” Joey whispers, shocked at herself.

“Gah. Actually, no, it’s hurting a little bit.” Lucifer says, placing a hand on his wound. “It’s… gah!” He groans in pain. “It’s hurting a lot. Son of a bitch, that really hurts!” He then lifts his hand off his thigh, only to see it’s covered in blood. “I’m bleeding.” He realises.

“You’re bleeding.” Joey says, emotionally.

“I’m bleeding.” Lucifer repeats.

“Oh, crap, of course you’re bleeding.” Joey says, a tremble in her voice. “God, what have I done?” She says, running a hand over her head as Lucifer kneels to the ground.

“I don’t… I don’t bleed. It’s—“ He grunts, Joey rushing over, kneeling down with him.

“Lucifer, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Joey asks, worried.

“What does this mean?” Lucifer replies.

“Well, it means I shot you. And I’m an idiot, and I’m sorry. And I’m in so much trouble.” She says, covering the wound with her hands to prevent too much blood loss.

“Ah! It really hurts!” Lucifer cries out, as suddenly the SWAT team come running in. “What’s happening to me?” He asks, looking into her eyes.

Later on, once the scene had been covered by the team and Lindsay and Kevin arrested, Joey looked over to see Lucifer speaking with her Lieutenant, Olivia, and makes her way over to them.

“Well, speak of the devil.” Olivia says as Joey approaches. “Mr. Morningstar here was just telling me everything you did in there.”

“Right.” Joey nods. “Well, Lieutenant—“

“I was just telling your boss that if you hadn’t acted in the way that you did, then, well, all hell would’ve broken loose.” Lucifer interrupts her, preventing Joey from exposing herself. “Isn’t that right?” He smiles at her.

“Right.” Joey nods, surprised.

“Mm.” Lucifer hums.

“Absolutely. And, um—“ Joey begins, but Lucifer cuts her off again.

“But you caught the bad guys; that’s the main thing.” Lucifer says.

“Again, I’m sorry that you got caught in the crossfire, Mr. Morningstar.” Olivia apologises.

“Oh, it’s just a graze. I hardly felt it.” Lucifer brushes off. “And, call me Lucifer.” He tells her, staring deeply into her eyes.

“Lucifer.” Olivia giggles, blushing— Joey rolls her eyes. “Thank you again for all of your help.”

“You are so welcome.” Lucifer flirts. “Bye, now.” He waves as Olivia wanders off.

Lucifer then looks at Joey, smirking as she steps closer to him. “I thought you didn’t lie.” She tells him, trying to hide a smile.

“I don’t.” Lucifer replies. “But I don’t always tell the whole truth.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.” Joey says, smiling.

“You’re welcome.” Lucifer says, glancing down at her lips momentarily.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.” She says, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I should bloody hope so, now you’ve crippled me.” Lucifer replies, standing up off the bonnet of the car as Joey holds his arm, supporting him to walk.

“Wuss.” She insults as he limps, Lucifer chuckling.

Joey had eventually arrived home after her long day, waving Steve goodbye as he drives off now that his babysitting duties had come to an end. “Drive safe!” She calls.

Joey then walks in, hanging up her jacket and walking into the dimly lit house. “Joey!” Dev and Arlo say, running out of their rooms.

“Hey!” Joey chuckles, crouching down so she’s at their level as they both approach her, giving her a side hug. “What are you doing up?” She asks, placing a kiss on Arlo’s head.

“Can’t sleep when you’re not home.” Arlo answers.

“Come on, I’ll tuck you in.” Joey says.

“What’s that on your shirt?” Dev asks, noticing a red stain.

Joey looks down at her ironically white shirt, seeing the blood mark at the bottom. “Oh. Um, that’s, uh… that’s ketchup from lunch.” She lies.

“Nu-uh. That’s blood, Joe.” Dev shakes her head.

“Right. You’re right.” Joey nods. “Well, um… I may have hit someone… with a bullet.”

“You shot someone?” Dev says.

“Again?” Arlo adds.

“Barely.” Joey replies.

“Who?” Dev asks, curiously.

“It was Lucifer.” Joey answers.

“Is he okay?” Arlo asks, concerned.

“He’s fine. It was nothing. It was, like, a little graze.” Joey explains.

“Okay.” Arlo nods, then suddenly, Dev starts smirking.

“What, babe?” Joey asks.

“Remember last week, I told you that boy Noah kept throwing French fries at me at lunchtime?” Dev says.

“Mm-hmm.” Joey nods.

“And you said it actually might mean he likes me?” Dev continues.

“Yes.” Joey nods, realising where she was going with her point.

“Well, since you shot Lucifer, it must mean you really like him.” Dev smirks.

Joey sighs. “Hmm.” She hums, unable to think of a response. “You know, it is bedtime, you little weasels.” Joey says, tickling their sides, as she stands up. They start running away, giggling. “You weasels. I’m gonna get you.” Joey says, chasing them into their rooms.

Meanwhile, Lucifer had limped into Lux, groaning as he makes his way down the stairs to Maze. “I know. Tough day at the office.” He announces, limping over to the bar as Maze rushes to his side.

“What happened to you?” She interrogates, concerned.

“Oh, you’ll never guess.” Lucifer replies, grabbing a bottle. “She shot me. And I bled.”

“What? That’s not possible.” Maze says.

“I know.” Lucifer smiles, pouring a shot.

“What’s causing this? Is there something you’re not telling me?” Maze asks.

“Don’t think about it too much. It’s exciting.” He replies, picking up the shot.

Maze takes it out of his hand. “No, it’s dangerous.” She disagrees. “We’ve had our fun here, Lucifer, but this can’t happen.” She looks down at his wound as Lucifer chuckles. “Tell me we’re going home.”

“On the contrary, Maze. The fun’s just begun.” Lucifer smirks, taking back the shot, pouring it down his throat.

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

“Let me bandage you up,” Tía or Ray and Reggie, just to be different. 😁

hi i loved this so much omg. huge thanks to Ángela @angela-feelstoomuch for the spanish help as well, any remaining mistakes are totally my own fault haha. warning for some swearing and mentions of bl00d/minor injury.

ao3 link in reblogs!

--

Honestly, being an honorary Molina is pretty great most of the time. Reggie loves having a little brother, would have done anything to convince his parents to have another kid when he was younger (and alive), though he knew they never would, since one kid was already such a pain in the ass. So Carlos is amazing.

And obviously Julie is his favourite girl ever, and his favourite still-alive person in the world, and she sings like an angel and thinks his country songs are cool and he would do anything for her and et cetera. It’s nice to see Luke and Alex settle in, get more relaxed - Luke doesn’t shy away from Julie every time Ray enters a room, and Alex doesn’t make excuses to miss dinner so that he doesn’t have to say grace, because he’s realised Ray doesn’t make him say grace.

“Niños!” Ray is calling from the kitchen, oven mitts on his hands, grin on his face, “Help setting the table?”

Even from here, dinner smells amazing. “Coming!” Reggie calls, manages not to say ‘dad’ at the end but it’s close, as he and Carlos bounce up off the couch and run to the kitchen.

Ray is the best. Reggie’s own dad was - look, it’s not that he was awful, it’s not that Reggie hates him, it’s just - he saw these dads, in movies, and on TV, and in other peoples homes, and he wanted one even more than he wanted a puppy, or a little brother, and Ray is that dad. He’s understanding, and encouraging, and funny, and a great cook, and he never raises his voice even when he should be mad about something. Reggie feels so lucky that Julie and Carlos let Reggie share their dad, even unofficially.

“Carlos!” Tía snaps, as he runs past her and ducks under her elbow, narrowly avoiding the tray in her hands, “Cuidado! La bandeja está caliente!”

It’s Tía Victoria who kinda scares Reggie.

It’s not that she��s not nice. Tía is nice. She brings over food and drives Carlos to ball games and pesters Ray about dentists’ appointments he almost forgets to go to. It’s just that she’s a little more like the other adults Reggie knew. She barks her words, sometimes, and she doesn’t get Julie’s music thing quite like Ray does, even if she’s supportive for the most part. And she doesn’t always believe Carlos about things, which Reggie understands more now that he’s been conned by Carlos about several random things (for example, Eggos are not in the house-sized waffle business in 2020 as Carlos told him, and they did not manage to breed dragons into existence with new DNA cloning technology) but still. It makes him nervous.

“Sorry, Tía!” Carlos chirps as he slides on his socks into a crouched position in front of the cupboard where they keep all the plates and bowls. Since Carlos has them handled, Reggie goes for glasses instead, reaching overhead for the cupboard on the opposite side of the room.

“Carlos!” sighs Tía again, more irritated than before, and Reggie feels his shoulders tense even though he wills them not to. “Let me help carry some of those, you’ll drop them, sobrino.”

“Fine,” Carlos huffs, and there’s the clink of plates as he passes half his pile off to her and they head for the dining table.

Reggie counts in his head as he stacks the glasses in the crook of his arm. There’s him and the boys, so four - wait, no, three - plus Julie, so four - then Ray and Carlos and Tía so five six seven -

He’s too caught up counting, is the problem, and doesn’t focus enough on how he has the glasses balanced. It probably would have been fine, except there’s a loud thud! Which Reggie registers a moment too late as being Luke, jumping from the top of the stairs to the bottom, enjoying his alive body. The sound scares Reggie about a foot in the air, and he fumbles the stack of glasses, and almost manages to save it.

The glass from the very top of the pile smashes on the floor, a harsh shatter that makes every head in the room turn in his direction. Reggie feels the panic surge up in him like a forgotten pot on the stove suddenly bubbling over. With trembling hands, he puts the rest of the glasses on the counter and scrambles down to the floor, tries to gather the glass shards together into a pile from where they’ve scattered, desperate to tidy the mess, to give some sense of responsibility, instead of just standing there like a stupid kid. “I’m sorry,” he starts, and his voice shakes more than he’d like, almost more than his hands had, “I’m sorry, I can clean it-”

“Reggie!” interrupts Tía, and her voice seems sharper than the glass.

“Victoria-” Ray begins, but Tía doesn’t let him finish, either. She’s already practically at Reggie’s side, crouching down next to him on the floor.

Her closeness makes Reggie’s hairs stand on end, and he’s not sure what he expects, but it’s not for her to gently lay her fingertips on his wrist and say, in a much softer tone, “Mijo, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh.” Reggie blinks. Looks at his arm, next to where her perfectly manicured nails have landed. She’s right, he sees. There’s a few little gashes, nothing huge, trickling blood in tiny streams down his forearm. In a few more moments, the blood would have reached his hand, and he would have noticed, probably. Except when he turns his palms up to look at them, he realises they’re cut up, too. Probably from grabbing glass shards with no protection.

His lip wobbles before he can stop it. He can still feel everyone looking at him. Knows what they must be thinking.

Stupid fucking kid.

“What are you staring at?” Tía says, back to business as usual. He flinches at her voice, before he realises she’s not talking to him. She’s talking to the others. “Come on! Ray, grab the dustpan and some shoes, clean up this glass before anyone else gets hurt. Carlos, finish setting the table, and Luke, go fetch the others para la comida.” In his peripheral vision, Reggie sees everyone bounce back into action, like her words broke a spell on them, and it’s a relief to know they’re not all looking at him any more. Tía continues, as she tucks an arm around Reggie’s shoulders, “Reggie and I will be back.”

“We will?” Reggie asks automatically, as she helps him balance on his wobbly, baby-giraffe legs.

“En un minuto,” she tells him confidently. “But first, let me bandage you up.”

He’s not exactly going to argue with her. Honestly, any excuse to get out of the public space is appreciated when his eyes still feel so close to swimming with tears. Firm yet warm, she leads him to the bathroom and has him sit on the closed toilet lid while she pulls Ray’s first aid kid from the cabinet, pulling from it some disinfectant, bandages and a pair of tweezers.

“Just in case any glass is left,” she explains briskly, settling on the edge of the bathtub and turning his arm over, palm up, so she can see the scratches. She tuts softly. “Your poor hands!”

Reggie ducks his head, whispers, “I really am sorry.”

“¿Por qué?” she asks. “It was an accident, right?”

“Huh?”

She sits back again and looks him in the eyes for a moment. If it was Ray, or one of the boys, Reggie would shy away from the look, but she has the same skill Julie has, to pin you in place with her gaze, so Reggie assumes it’s from Rose’s side of the family. “I know you didn’t throw that glass on the ground on purpose. It was just an accident. These things happen.”

“You’re not angry?” The question slips out before Reggie can think about how silly it sounds, but instead of rolling her eyes, or her jaw clenching in annoyance, Tía’s expression softens somehow.

“No, mijo. Not at all. Estaba un poco preocupada, maybe, but that’s only because I care about you.”

Reggie doesn’t know what to say to that. Bites his lip as she gently applies disinfectant along the wounds, once she’s declared them sufficiently glass-free, and wills himself not to cry as she wraps the bandages around his arm and a little around the palm of his hand. At least if he cries she’ll just think it’s because of the sting, and not because he braced himself so hard to be yelled at and called names and then it never came.

Not because he keeps remembering that he feels like glass himself. Always a moment away from falling onto the ground and shattering, so teeter-y that the kindness of adults he barely knows can almost knock him over the edge.

“Terminado!” she declares, tying off the last of the bandage, and gives him a big smile. It looks genuine enough. Not like she’s bottling anything up to let out at him later. Not like she’s fronting, or lying, not that Reggie’s ever been particularly good at telling the difference with anyone. She must see the puzzlement in his face, because she adds, “Just an accident.”

It really seems that simple. Like everything’s just fixed and okay. Like she doesn’t think Reggie is stupid. The feeling is sort of overwhelming; Reggie’s stomach feels all warm, and - empty, actually. It grumbles loudly in that moment, and Tía laughs, and Reggie laughs with her.

“Vamos a como?” he tries, because he’s been listening, and trying to pick things up.

“Vamos a comer,” she corrects him, but he can’t mistake her tone this time for anything other than delighted, her expression for anything other than fond and relieved as she helps him up. They go back down the stairs, her loosely holding his hand the whole way, not enough to hurt his wounds, but enough to remind him she’s there.

She presents him to the table with a goofy little ta-da! gesture, much to the joy of those already at the table. “Our Reggie, back in one piece!” she says. Laughter and relief radiates from all the others, and Tía grins, pleased, puts her hands on her waist. In that moment, despite all his preconceptions, she reminds him more of Julie than anyone else.

Maybe she isn’t so scary after all.

[sapnxps]

(WTL) Chapter One: Greg the Neighbor- Georgenotfound x Reader

If I knew that when I moved to London, I'd have two weird neighbors, I'd laugh in your face. Now I'm friends with an old cat lady. Now I'm enemies with my cute neighbor that's definitely not single, who also screams too much.

Even though he's a dick, why can't I stop thinking about him?

My parents told me I’d regret moving to London from the state before I left because I’d miss them and the US too much.

They were half right.

I’m sitting on a box messily labeled ‘kitchen’ in the hallway of my new apartment complex. I huff, wiping the sticky sweat from my forehead. The moving bill is almost 4 thousand dollars. If I knew moving would be this expensive, I wouldn’t have moved out from my parent’s house until I was 40. Sure, I moved a lot of my belongings across the Atlantic ocean, but 4 thousand dollars? Who do I look like, Jeff Bezos?

Today has been hectic, to say the least. Three of my boxes somehow drifted away to Spain. Don’t ask me how that happened, I don’t even know. I’ve been unpacking by myself all day. A box of my kitchenware got shattered upon arrival. I should’ve listened to my Mom on that one, she told me to just buy plates and glasses here instead of shipping them here. Big mistake I’m never making again. Finally, the biggest chunk of my problems: My apartment is full of boxes and I don’t feel like unpacking. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been sleeping on an air mattress for two days, maybe not, but I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. If one more thing goes wrong, I think I might lose it.

Begrudgingly, I lift myself up from the box I was sitting on. It’s a bit dented now, but the way it felt on my ass, it’s just pots and pans. I open the door, pulling this box into my apartment. I weakly push it into the kitchen. It collides with one of the boxes filled with shattered plates. The sound of the broken glass sliding across the box sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I need to make a note to properly dispose of that. Turning my head to look around my new home, I feel my brain's short circuit. All these boxes unpacked, I’ve barely made a dent. This is going to take for-fucking-ever. Moving is modern-day torture. Oh, that’s funny. Remember to tweet that later.

The next three hours of my life are taken up by filling up my kitchen cabinets and drawers with cutlery and various kitchen utensils. The counter was now less bare, housing my toaster and breadbox. My Tupperware containers sat in a special place in the far-right cabinet by the sink. It looked like this home was lived in, as long as you didn’t glance anywhere else besides the kitchen.

I soon after tackled the bathroom, which was the less intimidating room compared to the living room and bedroom. I got the shower curtain hung up, which made it look nice. The rug found its way to the floor, protecting my feet from the cold, cream tile. The shelves were now stocked with a few fluffy peach towels and soaps. Underneath the sink had cleaning supplies as well as spare toilet paper. Living alone meant having nobody to give you another roll if you finish the other one. Kinda sucks. I had a boyfriend during high school, and two years into college. I dreamed of living with him, we planned it all out. I’d finish college, we’d move to a city and rent out the tiniest apartment we could find. We’d live it out until eventually we made ends meet and the rest would be. Dreams cut short though, he cheated. It’s part of why I left in the first place. Needed a change of scenery, new people.

That’s where I am now. New people. Stuck on that part. Haven’t gotten a chance to meet any, which is oh so tragic. I can’t decide if I want to introduce myself to the neighbors or let them come to me? I’m stuck pondering on the thought until I hear a knock at the door. I wonder if my lost boxes have mysteriously arrived.

Opening the door, I’m greeted with an older woman, holding out a small cake into my space.

“Hi dear, I’m your neighbor to the right. Heard all the commotion, saw all the boxes. I had to see for myself the fresh meat in the complex,” She paused before lightly tapping my arm with her free hand. “Just teasing! It’s great to have another lady on this level. The young man to your left, handsome fella, never comes out much though. Hopefully, we can have a girl posse or something,” Her posh accent made her much different than me. Is it wrong to already feel isolated?

I grin at her, moving out of the way to invite her in. “Nice to meet you, feel free to come in. I apologize for all the boxes scattered around, moving has been proven to not be quite my talent,”

The woman smiles brightly at me, shock plastered on her face. “You’re American!”

“That I am,” I chuckle. She hands me the cake, which I gladly accept. My diet has consisted of soggy hash browns from the complex lobby. She makes her way to what is settled in the living room, politely setting herself on my suede blue couch across from the large wall in the room. I place the cake on my counter by the stove, making a mental note to grab a slice once the woman leaves.

The shock never leaves her aged face, “Oh goodness! How amazing. I have a foreigner as my neighbor. You’ll find London quite lovely. I know how it feels to be isolated and removed from what you’re used to, but I promise you’ll fit right in,” She says as I settle myself on the loveseat a bit away from the couch.

“Where are you from?” I ask. She obviously isn’t American.

She smiles, “Just a bit east of Surrey. South of London. Beautiful area, grew up on a small cottage,” The woman was glowing as she spoke of her hometown. She was obviously proud of where she grew up. Compared to my southern Arizona town, this place seemed like heaven. A cottage? Sign me up.

“Sounds lovely,” I speak truthfully.

“Welp,” The woman slaps her laps, a way of signaling it’s time to end the conversation. Despite only speaking for a small amount of time, she seems like someone I can come to if I ever have questions about London or the terminology that I hear around the city. I’ll need to remember that she’s the neighbor to the right. As she began to see herself out, I remembered the other neighbor she mentioned. The young man to the left. I believe she used the term ‘handsome fella’ to describe him. Once she was out in the hall, I felt the need to find out more information.

“Oh!” I shout, hanging myself out into the hallway. She pauses her steps, turning back to me. “By the way, who’s my other neighbor? The guy you were telling me about. Does he have a name?” I ask.

“Greg,” She nods, resuming her short walk back to her apartment.

Greg. Ugly name.

I completely forgot about the conversation by dinner time. As I was munching down on my cake, delicious by the way, I heard loud yelling from my right side. I wouldn’t even call it yelling, more like high-pitched screaming. Who was my neighbor over there again? Greg? Greg. He was causing a ruckus and a mere heart attack at that. He was screaming so loud I nearly jumped out of my skin the first time I heard it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s facing a very, very gruesome murder right now. Well, I guess I don’t know any better. I’m just wishing for the very best.

Another hour passes. The yelling never stops. It’s only 8, but my body is as awake as ever. I still have yet to get used to the new time zone. At times it was difficult, but I’m using it to my advantage now. I have some extra time to unpack and get my actual bed ready. My bed frame was put together professionally during lunch, so that was one thing checked off my list. The mattress I ordered was delivered yesterday. Now it was just the matter of putting the sheets on and preparing my duvet.

Fitted sheets fucking suck to put on a bed. I was currently struggling to put it on my nice mattress. It was edging close to 10 pm. The sky was dark, and I was stuck in some odd mixture of a starfish and the downward dog position. If this moment was a picture, it could be used for blackmail. The closer I got to finally getting the top right corner on my bed, the more stretched out I became. I was like one of those sticky hands you’d get in those toy dispensers at the grocery store. I was just about to get it, when another loud shriek could be heard. In shock, I slammed my head on the bed frame and lost grip of all four corners of the sheet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumbled underneath my breath.

Whatever. He probably has a greater reason to be screaming like this, right? Justified shouting, whatever you want to call it. My bedroom is closer to his apartment than the kitchen was. Is it nosey to try to figure out what he’s saying? I don’t want to be that type of neighbor. I’ll continue minding my business because I don’t want to find out some weird shit about Greg that I don’t want to know.

The screaming never stopped.

In fact, if anything, it got louder. And louder. And louder. Is it okay to call the cops here?

It’s midnight now. The next fucking day. And Greg is still screaming at the top of his lungs as if everyone else isn’t asleep. If I saw some normal citizen just trying to get some rest, I’d be fed up. Well, I’m still fed up. I’m also running on a messed-up sleep schedule, so it’s not like I was trying to sleep anyways. My bed is made now, and comfy as hell. I built a shelf to house some of my small decorations, with the entertainment of my noisy neighbor’s yells to accompany me. For some odd reason, it made me feel less lonely.

At about 2, I began to reject the company. I felt irritation grow in my chest as I heard the same high-pitched shrieks that I heard at 8. The annoyance that bubbled in me overtook my politeness. Before I knew it, I was up and in the hallway banging on his door. I didn’t have the time to care about my Daffy Duck pajamas sticking to my legs due to the heatwave hitting England right now. Before I even realize it, my fist is slamming on his door. I never knew I had the power to knock that hard, but my anger and blossoming resentment overpowered me. I continued banging until the door pulled away from its frame. Now I’m face to face with Greg.

Boy was he handsome.

I was met with a man, about 5 foot 9. His dark brown hair was disheveled. Strands of hair laid across his forehead messily. If he wasn’t screaming, I would’ve thought he was sleeping. He was wearing a fluorescent green hoodie with an odd smile plastered on the front. It was a bit large for his skinny frame, that’s unimportant though. His grey sweatpants were twisted on his legs. What the fuck was he doing? His face was delicately shaped. This jawline looks sharp yet fragile like it was constructed of the most fragile rose crystal I’d ever seen. His brown eyes reminded me of caramel, thick and way too easy to get lost in.

“Hi, uh Greg-” I start. I’m just realizing now how close I am to him. The scent of his spearmint gum floods my nostrils. It’s a bit powerful, crinkling my nose at the smell. It wasn’t gross, just very shocking.

“George,” He spat. That’s fucking embarrassing. I’m meeting him for the first time and I got his name wrong. I’m not taken aback for long though, because his attitude oozing from his simple correction was enough to disgust me. I’ve done nothing wrong to him, except maybe get his name wrong. Was my moving too much of a nuisance to him? Poor little British thing, he can deal with it.

I cringe, “Oh, um, sorry.”

He leans into the door frame, sweatshirt adjusting to the movement. Forget a tiny bit large, he was swimming in this thing. “Yeah, no problem. Can I help you or are you selling girl scout cookies at,” George checks his watch. “2 in the morning. If you are, I’m not interested, sorry ‘bout that,” His outfit makes me feel a lot less aware of mine. Despite his face being rather attractive, the outfit makes him look like he just rolled out of bed.

“Oh, yeah. I was wondering if you could lower the volume a bit, please. Or just stop screaming entirely, if possible. I don’t know if you have some weird shouting fetish, but I certainly don’t,” I chuckle. George, however, doesn’t chuckle. Actually, he looks rather unamused. If a human was an art museum, it would be George. Curling into a ball and falling into an endless void doesn’t sound too awful right now. I think I’ll add that to my itinerary. I’ll do it in my bed so I’m at least comfortable while I’m drowning in my own self-pity.

He grimaces, “Yeah. Sure.”

He’s blunt. Got it.

The second I turn my back to the door, it slams. Wow. What a cunt. Shaking the interaction off, I begin to feel the wear and tear of the day beginning to hit me. Moving all those boxes made my muscles ache. The solution to all my problems today seems to be going to bed. Not that I’m not okay with that, just funny. The day before I left for London, you’d think I was shocked by lightning. The electricity that was running through my veins was no match for any ADHD medicine the FDA had ever approved. Now, my body is beginning to fall victim to the earlier time zone. Not that it was a big deal, it was going to happen eventually. These next few days would just entail a difficult sleeping schedule. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.

I quickly find my way back to my own bedroom. The yelling was quieter, but I could still hear George through the thin walls. He was murmuring to someone softly. This apartment complex was all 1 bedroom apartments. He didn’t live alone. How lovely! I made a fool of myself to him, and he was most definitely telling his partner right now. Talk about dignity, am I right?

I scrolled through my phone for an hour, before the screaming returned to its original volume. Would it be overdramatic to say I felt my face go red with anger? I don’t think so. I think I handled the situation as politely as I could. Hell, I even cracked a joke so he could know I wasn’t that upset over the situation! If I knew he was going to resume his disruptive noises, I wouldn’t have been so nice or absolutely hilarious. Nobody that douchey gets my amazing humor. He didn’t even laugh! I hear another shout followed by a slam to a desk. What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

Welp. Welcome to London!

[balkanradfem]

So I've talked before about my burning desire to go and build a separatist tribe of women in nature, preferably in forest next to a mountain or somewhere far out so that nobody would bother us. I've been keeping on building that dream in my head, but also in many practical ways, trying to prepare myself for it. This tribe would have to function out of capitalism, off grid, without the use of money or even electricity, unless one day I figure out how to produce some. So we use only technology that is not harmful to nature and produce everything we need to survive.

It sounds so surreal, but it's not a particularly wild idea, because humans have been doing this for millenia and lived, I presume, with way less of their population depressed and suicidal. It wasn't more than 80 years ago humans lived without electrity or modern commodities, my 85yo neighbour can still remember bathing in collected rainwater and washing the clothes in the river. (Don't worry, we wont have to wash the clothes in the river, I found a way.)

So what I'm proposing is in fact, far more reasonable, climate conscious and healthy than living in capitalism, only problem is: It's less convenient.

We're to assume it's convenience that brings us comfort and happiness, but I'm about to propose a counter-argument: It's not. It's boring and makes everything very impersonal and unsatisfactory. I can tell, but only because I've been shifting into that inconvenient, more-effort-put into survival kind of life. And, it's been a very fun, weird time.

So as you can see by my posts, I've been learning to grow food and to make meals from self-grown food only, and eating feels different. It's far from impersonal when you bring a handful of seeds into life, then harvest and store and eat that; you know where this food has been. You know the food's story and it's been interlaced with your own story to the point where it's no longer something you consume, you have memories with that food. It means something to you. And, it's way, WAY harder to throw it away. You do not waste what you build up from scratch.

I've also been venturing into other self-sustaining missions, like, cleaning products and preserving resources as you would in nature, figuring out hygiene without capitalism, and this is where my life got weird. If I wanna wash my hair, I go and make tea, then wash my hair in that. Funny snippet, lemon balm tea actually darkens your hair the more you use it, people in my life now legit think my hair is black, it's not! It's brown but the herb made it so dark nobody can tell. I've since found out there are also herbs that make your hair lighter, or even give it a blue-ish glow! That is way fun. Washing hair like this is a more effort than shampoo, but I feel different about it. Proud I did that, or just happy I never have to buy a shampoo maybe.

If I wanna do laundry I'll go and cut open some conkers, since I still have a bag of unprocessed ones and they work as a detergent. If I wanna clean something I use vinegar I infused with orange peel, it smells amazing. If I need to go to the bathroom I'll skip on toilet paper and use family cloth. Now what is that? I actually heard someone on youtube say that word and researched it and found out that before toilet paper, people used rectangular strips of white cloth, to clean themselves, and they were all washed so it was reusable and wasted no resources since you could cut any old cotton shirt into strips and use it. Now a lot of people react with 'ewww' but hear me out: you don't use it for number two unless you have a washing liquid to immediately throw it into (I don't), and, do you throw away any underwear that you've used just once? They get about as filthy as that and then you put them thru boil cycle in the washing machine, they take so little space inside it's forgettable, and you can use them forever. I actually only had to buy toilet paper once, this entire year. 10/10. Also, extremely comfy and soft to use. If anyone wondered.

I also cook my food in weird ways, mostly having it wrapped in towels instead on a stove top, I rarely heat any bathroom water and either use cold or I also discovered I love heating a pot of water and just spilling it over myself instead of showering, it feels so good! It's so gentle and pleasant, showers are agressive and mean in comparison, it's like they hate you and are trying to spray you away. Water gently spilling from a pot on your body loves you and wants you to be happy and experience pleasure and love.

So I'm not trying to brag too much here but I haven't visited a grocery store in two months (figured out how to buy flour directly from the company lol) and maybe visited them 7 times this year altogether, isn't that kinda wild? And yes I'm giving myself a little star for good pandemic behaviour. I earned that. I just seem to not need stuff anymore unless they're oil and flour and maybe some salt and sugar. And it wasn't ... that hard. I mean okay, poverty and general anxiety are fueling my behaviour for sure, but it feels very much like... it's not that impossible to do without stuff, if you're crazy stubborn and don't have many alternatives.

I've also been prepairing for this life in a savage hermit hoarder type of matter; I've collected jars obsessively, stored every little produce net or bag that anyone brought to my place, I collect dumb promotional newspapers to start fires with in the future, and I can make baskets out of it, I stored every plastic cup or container ever because I can grow seedlings in those, I collected all seeds in any way available to me, I don't throw away any fabric anymore bc I can sew new things, any soft and spongy textured thing is stored to make seating space on future chairs and cushions, and I value every bit of knowledge coming my way only in regard to how it could help me survive.

I haven't figured out the medicinal side of this, or the social aspect, but at this point it feels very wrong for me to be in a city, renting out an apartment, and then living half like a little savage on the side and refusing to go to the store. I should be in my little cob house dammit, and cooking in my cauldron on top of a fire. I should be bathing in rainwater and have plants on every surface of my home. I should have soil available to grow all my food. And optimally have a big swing and a tree house and an obstacle course in the forest. I wanna drink water that I discovered in a spring or collected from rain and filtered with the coal I made. I wanna know how earthen floors feel under my bare feet.

So anyways, how many of you'd wanna join a tribe where we live in cob houses and tell stories around a fire and change our hair color with tea and presumably spill water over each other because hygiene is important? Also we never shave or care abt how our faces look and we shed the light onto downfall of capitalsm because I feel like, if we all (the population) just bought flour, oil sugar and salt, a lot of things would go down super fast.

[polarbearaone]

☔︎ Sayuri

✞ synopsis: Aone thought your life with him was supposed to be long and happy, but all good things must come to an end right?.....

✞ pairing: Aone x fem! reader

✞genre: angst :(

✞ warnings: character death! mentions of v*miting, pregnancy and health conditions

The look on everyone's face when Aone proposed to you was to die for. Within the crowd there were surprised team players of the VC Date team along with elated coworkers from the construction firm that Aone invited. Oh, failed to mention that Aone proposed during one of his volleyball games. Soon you would be (Y/N) Aone, married to Takanobu Aone. Dating for the past six years, Aone was the best partner you could ask for. He never left your side, even accepted you with you and your past. When he met your parents, Aone told your father a trick to keep his plants from freezing during the harsh winters from Japan, since that day, your father began referring to Aone as “son”. Five years later, Aone was sitting on his soon to be in-laws couch, asking for your hand. Your parents understood how amazing Takanobu was, they knew he would never leave your side and always protect you.

“What theme should we have for our wedding?” Aone blurted out one day while dinner was steaming on the stove. “Already thinking about themes huh?” the way you looked at him, wearing his shirt while you made your way to the stove. If it were up to him, Aone would marry you in that very kitchen. The kitchen was where there were so many memories waiting to be made. “A turtle theme would be nice” you jokingly said. Aone started to lightly tap his chin, considering the theme. “Babe, I’m joking,” you said giggling. “oh” Aone said, in his little voice. “(y/n), can I ask you something?” Aone asked, playing with the strings of his shirt. You gave him a quick nod as you continued cooking dinner. “Can we get a turtle?” he said, a soft blush appearing on his face. Putting down what you had, you walked over and cupped his face. “Is it going to be our first child?” replying with the biggest smile on your face. The blush on his face matched the red shirt he was wearing. His brain was going wild, his dream was always to have a family with you. Kissing his forehead, you replied, “We can go tomorrow to the pet store”

The headaches began around a month after the proposal. You thought it was the stress of planning your perfect wedding. Aone noticed you were hurting when you did not accompany him to feed Kame, your turtle. He did not open the curtains like he usually did, nor did he give you a forehead kiss in fear that he will cause more pain. He started brewing tea and gave you some medicine. He let you stay in bed that day, and the day after that, also the whole week. Aone was worried sick, he knew stress caused headaches but every single day? His mother reassured him that the stress of working, trying to plan a wedding but also being there for Aone was a lot and that he should pamper her. Aone cleaned the whole house that afternoon, he even cooked your favorite dinner. It was supposed to be a perfect night, but you came home with a pale look on your face. The mere smell of the food made you run to the bathroom. Anything you ate that day came out of you as you hunched over the toilet. Aone held your hair back, softly rubbing your back. After emptying your stomach, you leaned into Aone’s touch. You needed him, his support, his love. As you slowly fell asleep on his lap, one thing ran through Aone’s mind, what if you were pregnant? You two were sexually active, plus it would explain the nausea and headaches. His mind was going wild once again, Kame finally will not be your own child anymore.

“hey honey, can I ask something?” Aone whispered into your ear as he massaged your head, a common occurrence in the morning. You hummed an answer. “do you possibly think you could be pregnant?”. The question lingered in your mind. Could you? It would make sense. After taking some medicine, you booked an appointment to the doctor. With Aone next to you, you knew you would be ok. The days leading up the appointment felt like forever. You were still with nausea and headaches, but you were excited to find out if a mini Aone was formed in your stomach. Finally, the day arrived. Aone was nervous next to you, you felt his handshake as he held yours. “Baby, you are more worried than me” you said giggling at him, “I just want you to be ok” he replied. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)” The nurse called. “Wait here ok?” you reassured him before entering the hallway. After many tubes of blood later, the doctor asked you to come back when the results were done.

A week later, Aone and you were waiting for the doctor in his office. All Aone wanted to hear that you were pregnant so his worries can subside. The doctor entered with a gloomy face. “Unfortunately, the blood test we did let us know that you weren’t pregnant but there is something more concerning” the doctor stated. The grip Aone’s hand on you faded away, at this point he did not care if you were not pregnant. He wanted you to be ok. “What’s more concerning?” Aone asked the doctor. “ We see some hormones that are way higher than they are supposed to be, we only see these types of numbers when a tumor is present near the pituitary gland, we would like to do more studies to confirm our suspicions” Tumor was the only word in your mind. You could have a tumor. The doctor requested more blood work, and scans. The weeks following, many of your symptoms began to worsen. Your vision began to blur, migraines began more and more frequent, even had a seizure. Aone was terrified, but even with fear, he never left your side. He held you every time you felt weak, he spoons fed you soup his mother taught him to make. The wedding was postponed until you felt better but you told Aone that both of you should get married legally before having any celebration just in case anything happened. “Nothing is going to happen (y/n), you and I will get through this ok?”

You seemed to get worse. You had to be admitted to the hospital due to your condition. After many more scans, it was revealed that the tumor in your brain was a mere 5 centimeters long. Despite being so small, it caused you excruciating pain. The physical pain you felt was nothing compared to the news you received two weeks later. “We have extremely bad news” the group of doctors who had been treating you said. “The tumor located inside your brain is too dangerous to live with, it cannot be surgically removed” Your sobs could be heard from across the hallway. Aone tried to calm you down, he held you so close to him, he could not lose you. Your sobs subsided when the doctor cleared his throat “That is not all”. “It’s not your fault that you didn’t notice since pregnancy symptoms are similar to your symptoms but you’re roughly two weeks pregnant.” The room had an eerie silence to it. The pain inside of you was so immense that crying was not an option anymore. “You have to do something! She cannot live like this! What about the baby?” Aone practically yelled at the doctors. Despite knowing him for 5+ years, you had never heard him yell. “Baby, shh, its fine. They did what they could” You said, trying to calm Aone down. “B-but” Aone was choking on his own sobs. Now it was you holding Aone. The doctors made it aware that the last weeks of your life should be spent at home, with your Fiancé. The baby would not survive much longer, therefore the both of you should cherish the small amount of time you had.

The following weeks were filled with smiles and pain. You were getting paler, weaker. Aone could see life leaving you as the days progressed. He saw how tired you were, each day you got more and more tired. You could barely walk over and see Kame anymore. Aone resulted into bringing him inside for you. Kame specifically liked when your soft blankets covers his shard shell, Aone loved seeing you two sleep with one another, well three. Aone remained strong for you. When you would sleep, he sat near you, crying. The love of his life, the one who was supposed to be there for him through it all, was dying. He felt that he could not keep his promise to protect you. You nor his child. He got into bed next to you and Kame, wishing you a beautiful night. That morning was like any other, except it was Kame who nudged him to wake up. He groggily got out of bed to make your tea for your medication. Something felt off to him. Usually you nudge him to wake him up. He ran towards your shared bedroom, turning on the lights. He knew you would kill him if he did but he needed to know your awake. Despite the bright light shining in the room, you were silent. Kame on the other hand was making an array of noises. He walked towards you, tears threatening to fall. “Baby?” he whispered. He fell to his knees. He felt weak, he felt empty. Aone began to shake you, trying desperately to wake you. “(Y/N) this isn't funny, wake up” Aone shook you one last time, before screaming into the bed. He ran to dial an ambulance. The paramedics looked at Aone with sorry eyes, he knew what those eyes meant. “Take her to the hospital now” Aone said, growing at them. “ Sir-”... “I SAID TAKE HER”.

The doctor who was treating you slowly sat next to Aone in the waiting room. “She was strong” Like you a couple weeks ago, the pain Aone felt didn’t allow him to cry. “I know that nothing is visible yet but here” The doctor handed Aone an ultrasound picture. “The baby is too small to see yet but they’re there. No matter how much it hurts, know that they will both be there, forever.” The doctor gave Aone one last hug goodbye, before walking back to the hallway you once entered through. Aone stood outside the door of your shared house. How could he enter without you? How could he ever live without you? His thoughts were erased when he felt something hit his leg. Looking down, he saw Kame rubbing his head on his leg. Slowly picking up Kame, he headed inside. Sitting on the couch with Kame, he showed the turtle the ultrasound. “This is your sibling Kame, I’m not sure what gender they were but this is Sayuri, my small lily”

a.n: NOT ME CRYING UNCONTROLLABLY AT THIS. also I wanna thank @nuttymouthful for this idea! It was originally an reincarnation au! but I got lost at the end :( so I closed it with a bittersweet (?) ending. Reader was supposed to reincarnate as Kame but idk kame is a himbo turtle but that’s ok. PLZ REQUEST MORE ANGST I LOVE THIS

tags: @elianetsantana @girlofdystopia @kara-grayson04

[ohokimdumb]

Carlos Oliveira Imagine (Spanish Lesson)❤

Request:  hey! what about a Carlos x reader where his s/o has to take spanish for uni/college and struggles a lot and first carlos would tease them about it but would make sure in the end to help them learn the language like helping with their course work etc?

A/N: So, Unfortunately I forgot everything I learned from the 2 years I took Spanish. I have to rely on google translate and such, so I apologize if some Spanish is off if not all of it...

You knew attending six classes for five days a week would be stressful. Math was your strong-suit. Social science wasn’t your favorite, but it was a requirement. Economics made you wanna rip your hair out and drown yourself in the toilet. But, Spanish class really took the cake. In High school you took one year of Spanish and you almost lost your mind. For some reason you couldn’t seem to understand how to put words together in Spanish.

Obviously Carlos was fluent in Spanish and he’d help you in a heartbeat, but it was a little embarrassing you needed to ask for help. You also weren’t prepared to be joked and laughed at. Something Carlos is a master at...joking around.

When you reached your front door, you managed to hold all your expensive school books with one arm and swing the door open with the other. Your nose is filled with the smell of spices cooking together. Carlos was obviously home. Should you have prepared yourself before you asked him?

You slam your books on the kitchen table and toss your backpack to the floor. Carlos was cooking one of his mother’s recipes; Paella. It was your favorite out of everything he had cooked for you. Loaded with chicken, seafood, rice, spices, and vegetables, it was the perfect comfort dish in your opinion.

“You gonna tell me how classes went?” Carlos asked as he kept his eyes on what he was cooking.

“If you don’t steal all the chicken this time.” He chuckled and lowered the heat on the stove-top. He pulled you into a tight hug and you instantly grew comfortable within his arms.

“You don’t sound very happy.” Carlos mumbled.

“I’m not. You groaned and buried your face in his chest, almost to the point where you couldn’t breathe.

“Well, spit it out.” Carlos caressed your back gently with his finger tips.

“I have to take Spanish.” You say under your breath.

“And you’ve come to papa Carlos for help.” Carlos released you from his grip and walked back over to the stove to check on dinner. A smile was glued to his face and you squinted your eyes; annoyed. It was like he had been living for that specific moment.

“Will you be of any assistance?” You said plainly.

“You know I will. It’s the perfect time to start, dinner is ready. I’ll serve us up and you can get all your Spanish work out onto the table.” You silently agreed and enjoyed him being assertive in such a subtle manner.

You chose to sit next to Carlos as always. During dinner the two of you always looked at magazines, the newspaper, or watched something random on Netflix while eating. You weren’t necessarily “excited” about this particular activity.

“Well, he’s already given you a packet of vocabulary. We’ll go over these tonight.” Carlos ate a spoonful of Paella and set the packet in front of you.

“El bombero” Carlos smoothly rolled his “R” and you shifted in your seat. He never spoke Spanish to you directly. He only spoke Spanish when he was speaking to his mother on the phone or if he was extremely angry.

“Fireman.” You said. Carlos pursed his lips, trying not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, confused.

“I know what it means, Bebé. You need to say it back to me in Spanish.” You rolled your eyes and blushed in embarrassment. Carlos noticed your cheeks were flushed and planted a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“E-El Bombaro?” The word was completely butchered by the time you finished. Carlos busted out laughing and and shook his head. He was having the time of his life witnessing you fail. Carlos couldn’t help himself, he thought you were so cute.

“Bombero, it’s eh, not ah. Also make sure to practice rolling your “R’s” or it’s not going to sound right.” Carlos explained. 

You nodded quietly.

“Esto va a tomar una eternidad.” Carlos smirked and started to look over the course work. You stared at him like a confused puppy. He looked over and winked playfully.

“It means, this is going to take forever. Be prepared for late nights with me, mi amor.” Carlos nudged you playfully and you nudged him back. Him making fun of you wasn’t all too bad since he was helpful towards the end of the night.

“Te amo.” You whispered in his ear. Carlos looked over in slight shock.

“I made sure to learn that before anything else.” Carlos leaned over and lightly pressed his lips against yours, setting his hand on the back of your neck. You deepened the kiss and crawled over onto his lap. Studying would need to wait for awhile.

[bellasharifuddin]

The Day I Became a Mother

It’s been a while since I last post anything here, typing feels awkward as well. But this has always been a thing that I wanted to do since the day I’ve given birth, to document and blog about my pregnancy and my birth journey, so in 4-5 years to come when my memories fade, I can always come back to reminisce every detail that I keep here, like a memory capsule. 

The Day I Found Out I Was Pregnant. 

You know, when people say that when you have a strong intuition about something, trust your gut feeling, because it’s often true. Mirin and I have always talked about having kids, me wanting a baby so much within months after we got married, however, Mirin having second thoughts about it. We were both married for less than a year, sleeping on a toto without a mattress or a bed, living in the deep slum of Wangsa Maju area where the rats are larger than the cats. Hahaha. Naturally, given our circumstances, he’d want to take things slow. 

Fast forward to a couple of months, we went out for some steaks and karaoke on a weekend night. I told mirin to stop by Watsons, for me to buy a pregnancy test kit. Mirin didn’t question much, because occasionally I would randomly buy one, just for fun. But this time, I didnt just get one. I ended up buying three. Why? Because somehow, I had a strong feeling this time. I just felt... weird. It was a feeling that I can’t put it into words. 

We came home at midnight, I went to the bathroom too “pee on the stick”. Then I saw the first line... a few seconds later comes the second one. Oh my god. Okay. I knew Mirin was standing outside the toilet door, waiting. Eventually, I had to break the news to him. When I showed to Mirin, we both ended up hugging and crying. Was I happy? Was I in shock? Was I sad? Yes, a little bit of everything. Its funny that all you’ve wanted was a baby, then when it actually happens, suddenly you’re freaked out. Happy that its a blessing. Sad that it hits you without a warning. 

                                                      Pregnant!

When the morning sickness finally kicked in, I knew we couldn’t live in the current house. Its not the best place to raise a child. And the next-door neighbor was having major renovation that was super loud and noisy. After sleepless nights and searching for a new place, we eventually moved out. Bought our first bed, bought our first dining table, bought our first gas stove. A many of firsts. Soon we finally bought a baby cot from Ikea. We bought it too early. Although it was too early to put it up, but Mirin assembled it anyways. I could tell that he was excited. It was such a fun and exciting moment, for the both of us.

But those were the fun part. Like most pregnancies, the not so fun part about being pregnant was me being diagnosed with Pregnancy Hypertension during my 36th week of pregnancy. My blood pressure spiked up to 140/100 on two consecutive readings, and the next thing I know, that I’m sitting in an ambulance, on my way to Hospital Kuala Lumpur’s emergency building. 

                     At Hospital Kuala Lumpur. Waiting for an available bed

                  Mirin bought me the entire family mart food available xD

I spent 3 nights in their maternity wards, finally discharged after the doctor told me that I was clear to go. While I was in the hospital, it pains me to see new mothers struggling during the COVID19 pandemic. Throughout your stay, no visitations were allowed from anyone including your husband. If your baby cries or if you’re in pain, you’d have figure it out yourself. I remember praying to god while crying that I do not want to be induced there. The ward was stuffy and hot. There were too many people crammed in a room. It was hell. 

The Day That I Give Birth

One week after my discharge, we both went for my monthly checkup with my OBGYN at Pantai. Again, my doctor advised me to be induced tomorrow, since my blood pressure spiked again, and I was almost full term (38 weeks) so it was okay to go. She told me that “It’s best to get the baby out or else you boleh kena sawan” OMG Okay okay. So we packed our bags, ate sushi for dinner, slept soundly for the very last time, and headed to the hospital again at 9 am the next morning. 

                         Induction day. We definitely overpacked haha

       Arrived at the hospital lobby, did a mandatory swab test before entering

Appointment card. Booked and paid for the accommodations prior to checking in

I was told to change into my labor robe (I’m not too sure what it’s called), and waited. When my doctor finally arrived, she then began to insert some sort of a plastic strip deeeeeep into my cervix. Ouch, that hurts. Okay, so that’s how induction works eh? Then I was given antibiotics into my IV drip too, since I was GBS (Group-B Strep) Positive as well. 

                                Toilet selfie! Calm before the storm

After an hour, I felt the contraction. Initially it was uncomfortable, then it hurts like hell. The contractions felt like period pain but like a million times worse. Occasionally, Doctor Haslinda would come and check on my “bukaan”. Hours passed. 1cm... 2cm... 3cm.... when I finally said:

“Omg sakit sangat dah tak tahan, I want an epidural!“

Ok no, that was a lie. I initially didn’t want to take an epidural. I wanted to try and bear with the pain, but Mirin convinced me to take it, so after tossing and turning like a dying fish I finally said okay. 

The anesthesiologist came after what felt like an eternity, and asked me to sign a consent form. I’m not really sure what was written in that. Siapa je ada masa nak baca terms and conditions panjang panjang bila tengah contractions??? 

He told me to sit on the edge of the bed, while hugging a pillow. I remembered him injecting some numbing spray, then I felt the BIG NEEDLE poking through my spine. Then.. that was it. It was so fast. The entire process took only 5 mins. Was it painful as I thought it would be? No. Was it still scary tho? Yep hahaha.

Soon after, Dr Haslinda pecahkan air ketuban when I was 4cm dilated. It didnt hurt because I was on epidural, but I felt so much warm liquid flowing out non-stop. So bizarre. 

Once you’re on epidural, you’re basically bed-ridden. No bathroom trips anymore, my legs feel like jelly. Sometimes the nurse will come to empty my bladder with a catheter. When the epidural kicked in, I could finally sleep. I slept like a baby. I slept for hours. Painless. No more feeling like a dying fish. And so I thought.............

3am. I woke up with INTENSE CONTRACTION PAIN. Why is it so painful? I thought I’m on epidural? I called the nurse straight away. Turned out the epidural drug ran out. It was sooo stressful because the nurse that was on duty that night didn’t know how to topap balik the epidural drug into the machine. She called her colleague, then the colleague also tak tahu. Then both of them spent like forever to troubleshoot how to use the machine, sampai lastly kena call doctor tanya. YA ALLAH, rasa macam nak maki je. 

7am the next day. Bukaan baru 7-8cm. Doctor decided to use another form of induction to speed up the process. It’s called pitocin, and injected through my IV drip. Within MINUTES, I could feel very intense and painful contractions, that the epidural can’t even help. So throughout the remaining 7cm to 10cm, I felt every inch of real labor pain. I clenched Mirin’s hand. So tightly that I think it got bruised. A minute felt like an hour, and an hour felt like years. It was soo bad that my memory was so fuzzy. 

Finally, it was 10cm. Time to go. They put both of my legs up, macam gambar bawah ni haha: 

                                      Picture courtesy from Google

There were two nurses, one small cute Malay nurse, one pregnant Indian nurse, and my OBGYN, Dr Haslinda. I love them all, they were so supportive and nice to me throughout my labor process. My doctor taught me how to push correctly:

“Take a deeeeeeep breath then tahan, clench your fists, chin down and teran macam nak berak sekuat-kuat hati“

I was so determined to get the baby out. I just wanted the contraction pain to end. I did everything they told me to do. I hold on to Mirin’s hand, and PUSHHHHHHHEDDDDDD! I could hear Mirin saying “You’re doing great sayang!” After several pushes, and some sips of water breaks, the baby’s head is almost out. The head was the hardest to push. Besar! I literally felt like my down there was stretching to its limit. Once the head is out, I did another small push, and the rest of the baby’s body macam keluar instantly macam super slimy like that haha. 

Finally the baby is out! 8.26AM! The contractions stopped immediately. I instantly feel like I wasn’t pregnant anymore. The doctor then injected something on my thigh, then my uri just popped right out haha. My body felt so tired, but so so light. Lega, yay no longer pregnant haha. I ended up having second degree perineal tear without an episiotomy, and was stitched. I felt the benang, ngilu. I felt the needle pierced through my muscles too. But it didnt hurt so it wasn’t too bad. 

The baby gets cleaned up. Then soon all of the nurses left the labor room, it was just me, Mirin and our baby. Mirin picked her up, and azankan. Mirin started crying, I cried too. It was magical :’)

We did skin to skin and tried breastfeeding for the first time. As I look at her, hair was so thick. Her cute little fingers. Her beautiful face. She’s perfect. 

                            I slept for 5 hours straight after the labor

Thinking back, I have no idea how I managed to muster such courage to go through all these. Mirin even told me that during the active labor stage, when I was pushing, at one point I pushed so hard that my entire face turned blue. Talk about adrenaline.

Do I want to have another baby? Well, lets keep a rain check on that question for another few more years to come xD

[ussjellyfish]

fic: Work-Life Balance pt 6 | AoS | Philinda | mature

Interdisciplinary Seminar 304 - working in teams                         

Summary: Melinda and Phil have time to talk, then they tell Mack and Yoyo about the baby.

read on Ao3

"What did you get at the library?" She checks the titles of his small pile of books as she clears the table. Melinda smiles a little and sets the historical ones aside. Phil's always been into the quiet corners of SHIELD history. The more cobwebs the more he enjoys it. It's the last book, small, unassuming, with a simple green cover, that makes her pause. 

"This one?" 

Phil leaves the counter to meet her in the dining room. He dries his hands and throws the dish towel on his shoulder. "Oh yeah, well, I don't know much about our new project."

She sets the pregnancy book down on the shelf and smiles. "Project?" 

"Do you have another name?"

Melinda sighs, looking at her hands before looking back at him. "Baobao." 

His rush of affection washes over her like the smell of her father's cooking, with all the same warmth. 

"That's adorable."

"Shut up."

"Hey, the best I could come up with was next year's research project." He touches her arm and that brings with it all his love and gratitude. "I still can't believe it."

Melinda slips into his arms, wrapping hers around his back. "I took a pregnancy test every day for a week because the line was so faint at first."

"Did that help?"

"I dropped the first dark one in the toilet and had to fish it out." 

Phil laughs, lifting her hands and kissing them. "Oh dear."

"I was so afraid it would wash out, somehow."

"I don't think that's how they work."

"It's not how they work." She leans in, resting her head on his chest, listening to his steady, sure, heartbeat. "I was so nervous."

"You haven't been clumsy since the first year at the Academy." 

"I know."

He beams, too happy for words, and she has to blink because she's too close to crying again. "That's pretty cute."

"Cute?"

"Melinda, you never think things are going to work out."

"They don't!" She lifts her head, glaring at him. "Things do not work out for us. We kiss and it's not me, we go on vacation together and you die." 

"Sorry."

"You came back." She kisses him to ease that stab of regret. "I'll get over it in a few years."

Phil holds her face, studying her eyes like she's priceless. "Take your time."

"You certainly did." She grabs the dish towel from his shoulder and playfully snaps it towards his arm. 

Laughing, he holds up his hands in surrender. "I know."

"You're worse than Turtle Man."

Phil kisses her cheek, taking the dish towel back and escaping to the kitchen. "We need to tell them."

"Mack and Yoyo?"

"And Daisy." 

Melinda sets plates on the table, then glasses and takes a breath. Telling Phil was hard enough and didn't make it any more real, or easier to talk about. Baobao has just been hers for more than a month, and forming the words is still alien. 

"They're going to be thrilled," he says over the sounds of him moving things in the kitchen. He hasn't said what he's making, but it seems complicated. 

"How do we...?" she trails off and heads to the kitchen. "What do we say?" 

"Surprise!"

She steals another towel off the stove to toss at him. "Sure." 

"When are you due?"

"Like a library book?"

"That's the word!" He half hides behind the fridge. "Babies are like books." 

"You love books."

Phil hands her onions, an eggplant, some container of something, and spinach from the fridge. "I love this." 

"Ricotta?"

"Baobao."

She wasn't ready for him to use the nickname, or for him to look at her like that, and it's really unfair that she can tear up in a heartbeat. 

"Hey, these onions aren't even sliced yet," he says, all softness as he brushes her tears away. "It's okay."

"Phil--"

"Can you chop them? Thin slices, even." 

He hands her a knife and moves to fret over the noodles boiling on the stove. "It's lasagna."

"I guessed."

"The eggplant needs to be thin too, so it'll cook evenly, and you need to pull the stems out of the spinach."

"I need too?"

"You're a great sous chef."

"Is that the chef who chops things?"

"You know you're deadly with a knife." 

"Onions are already dead." 

"Not these ones, they're Hydra, or LMDs or something."

"Very funny."

He holds her hips for a moment, then kisses her cheek, resting his head on her shoulder. "I keep remembering doing this in Tahiti."

"It was too hot to cook in Tahiti!" Melinda pats his face. "But you wanted to cook as much as possible before you--"

His hand brushes across her stomach, and her thoughts of death fade. He's here, he's alive, and they have this life to think about. 

"That was nice. This is better." 

"Because of the-"

"This isn't expiring," he interrupts. 

Turning in his arms, Melinda reaches for his shoulders. "One of us will die eventually."

"Dark."

"Realistic."

"Give us forty to fifty years and we can talk about it." Phil kisses her cheek, then turns her chin to kiss her properly. "You didn't say when you were due." 

"October." 

He rests his forehead on hers, and his eyes shine this time. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I love Halloween, we can dress up little Baobao."

She sets the knife down rather than risk cutting herself with her eyes so clouded. Melinda could blame the onions, but both of them know better. "I didn't think you'd be here," she says, finally when he's stopped fussing with the noodles to look at her. 

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's- I'm okay. I would have been okay, just, this is better."

He kisses her cheek, then hugs her, careful to keep his hands off her shirt. "Hey, you're always okay, you're amazing like that." 

Swaying with him in the kitchen, trying not to get parts of lasagna everywhere is hardly amazing, yet it's everything. He's here, flesh and blood, with his bad jokes, the incredible way he smells, and the way he holds her.

Phil couldn't hold her enough in Tahiti. He's going to be the same way with the baby, when they get here and she kisses him, hard. Kissing's easier than talking, warmer, more immediate because she doesn't know how to keep talking about how much it means that he's here. 

He breaks the kiss, still trying to keep his hands out of her hair. "We're not going to get dinner made this way."

Resting her hands on his chest, she traces his shirt collar, trying not to think about how firm his chest is against hers. "How much time does dinner need?"

"Fifteen minutes."

"Can you make it ten?"

"Do you want your lasagna uneven?"

Melinda reaches up and undoes the top button of his shirt. "I'm not that hungry." She reaches for the second button and he shivers. 

"You're going to be hungry."

"There's pizza in the freezer." 

"May-"

"I'm sure I have MREs somewhere." 

Phil laughs, then kisses her hard enough to make her gasp, pressing her back against the counter. "Ten minutes. Use your patience. Chop faster." 

She throws the top of the onion in his direction, and the eggplant stem for good measure. He tosses the stem back, almost knocking over her water. When Melinda reaches for it toss it back, she knocks the glass, spilling water all over her shirt. 

"Oops," she says, as innocently as she can. Phil's eyes watch her like lasers as she unbuttons her blouse and hangs it on the back of a chair. Her camisole is wet too so she eases that up over her head. Her breasts hang swollen, heavy, and thanks to hormones, her simple white bra is almost too small. 

Leaning over the cutting board, she finishes with the vegetables he wanted and walks over to him by the stove. Phil stares, open mouthed, and takes them without a word. 

"How long now?" she asks, looking over his work, brushing her breasts against his arm. "Still ten minutes?"

He's never assembled a lasagna that fast in his life, and he'll complain it's imperfect in an hour when they're eating, but it'll taste wonderful and there are slightly more important things that they could be doing with this time. 

Washing his hands, he drops a towel onto the floor for the water she spilled. "So, hormones make you clumsy, huh?"

"So clumsy." Melinda shakes her head. "Don't know what happened to me." 

Phil has his shirt off a moment after the lasagna's tucked into the oven, then they kiss, like newlyweds on the way to the bedroom. He stops, pressing her against the wall near the bookcase, teasing. "We should stay where I can hear the timer." 

"Here?"

He glances around. "We're not near the windows." 

Stripping off his jeans and her trousers is so quick it's barely foreplay. He presses her against the wall, kissing her breasts as he undoes her bra. It falls to the floor and he palms her breasts. They're so sensitive that he barely has to touch them and she moans. 

Phil turns her to face the wall, bracing her hands on the smooth paint as he parts her legs, stroking up her inner thigh. His warm fingers open her up while he moves her hair and kisses the back of her neck. It feels naughty, having sex in the dining room, while the sun is still tracing along the floor. His fingers slip into her first, teasing, followed by the sweet girth of him a moment later. Pressing back into him, she deepens the angle, guides him in, but his hands on on both of her breasts and his mouth's on her back.

He murmurs about how good she feels and she doesn't have words to reply. She needed this, more than food, more than teasing, this makes it easy. 

She orgasms so quickly that she's laughing against the wall a moment later, he pauses, ready to pull out and wait. Of course he is. 

"Don't," she insists, keeping him inside as her body tenses around him. "Keep going."

He thrusts again, gently, almost too much so and she lets her control slip so he can feel her affection, her surrender, her need, and maybe it's the last that gets him. She wants in ways she didn't- couldn't- before. Maybe it's just hormones but hormones are a gift she's going to enjoy every minute of. She's still panting when he orgasms, dragging his teeth along her shoulder. She wriggles around while he slumps against her, pinning her against the wall. 

"Wow," he says, catching his breath. 

"Told you I wasn't hungry."

"Except, now you are."

Can he feel that? Did she share? Is he just teasing because he knows her? Melinda kisses him once more. "Good thing you made dinner first."

"Told you."

She shoves off the wall and collects their clothes, sated for the moment. They end up eating dinner in pajamas, by candlelight. The soft glow hides the imperfections of his entirely delicious dinner, and she's on her second piece when he reminds them both that they need to share this with their family. 

"Maybe not all of it."

"Yoyo likes a few little details."

"You didn't."

"Maybe."

"After Tahiti?"

Melinda licks sauce from her fork. "It's possible."

He shakes his head. "I need wine."

"All yours, honey." 

Phil leaves his seat, returning with a glass of wine. "There's a kaiseki restaurant Randolph was telling me about that could work. Mack and Yoyo love interesting food."

"Randolph is just as much of a foodie as you."

"He's been on earth thousands of years, he enjoys it."

"He usually has good taste in restaurants," she concedes, holding out her plate for more. 

"Really?"

"Had a good workout today, hard up against the wall."

Phil smirks over his wine. "That you did."

"Okay, fancy restaurant for Mack and Yoyo, done," she pauses, taking another bite. She'd eat less of it if it wasn't so damn good.

While she's chewing, he takes over the thought.  "How do we tell Daisy, and FitzSimmons?"

"FitzSimmons don't travel much now, we'll have to just call." 

Phil nods, brushing his mouth with his napkin. His lips are still bright from earlier and part of her can't wait to devour them again. "And Daisy?"

"Her deep space deployments are long sometimes, several weeks. I'd really like to tell her in person, if we can, but we can call if we have too. We have this communicator tings that reach that far."

"But you'd rather see her."

Melinda sets down her fork, staring at her plate. "That's sentimental, isn't it?"

"Not at all, it's big news."

"I thought I'd only have to tell her if it worked, and it wasn't going to work-"

"Of course not," Phil interrupts, rolling his eyes. 

"And then I thought I'd just tell her the next time she was back on Earth, but I don't know when that's going to be and I don't want her to think we--"

Phil reaches across the table, squeezing her hand. "She'd never think that."

"Okay."

"Maybe Mack will have a better idea of when she'll be back."

She nods, but her thoughts are already drifting. How is Daisy and her team? Are they coalescing into a little family like her old team? Is she happy out there? 

"Do you remember our long deployments?"

"Being out on mission for weeks, months at a time?" Phil leans back in his chair, sipping his wine. "Oh yeah."

"It was fun then. Now-" she pauses, chuckling. "Going to conferences and leaving my comfortable bed sounds exhausting."

"It's a nice bed." 

"It's better with you. Even if we don't make it all of the time." She gives him a look, trying to make him blush and succeeding is about as delicious as the lasagna. 

"There's still plenty of places in the apartment to try out." Phil teases back over his wine. "Like the shower."

"Is that a request?"

"You want me to file a form?"

"In triplicate, please."

"There's the red tape you love." 

Laughing, she stands up and blows out the candles. Phil starts to collect the plates and she shakes her head. 

"Leave them."

"Oh?"

"I'm requisitioning you for something better."

"Without a form that likes kidnapping."

Melinda wraps her arms around his waist, tugging him close. "You'd be thrilled to be kidnapped by me."

"That's- Phil pauses, licking his lips. "That's absolutely true." 

Throwing her arms around his neck, she stands on her tiptoes in her bare feet to kiss him. He tastes just a little like wine and he kisses back hungrily. Phil touches her back, then lifts her up. 

"This time bed."

"Just this once." 

 Mack and Yoyo are late this time. If it wasn't for Phil, they would have been late too but he's good at watching the time. She hasn't worn nice earrings in a few days and the weight of them keeps making her pause when she moves her head. These are her mother's gift, so more ostentatious than she'd usually wear, but Phil loves them because they're antique. He probably knows the story better than Melinda does, definitely appreciates it more. 

Sometimes she forgets and makes dinner reservations with a cover name. She hasn't done it for some time, but Mack and Elena have met her several times as the Martin party, and as Phil holds her purse, she wonders if she did it on purpose without him, clinging to any reminder of him because she missed him so much. 

Now he lingers behind her, moving her hair over her shoulder. The intimacy of it aches, so does the sweetness of his smile and the watercolor wash of his love. His feelings rise over the rest of the room, the colonist within the symphony of people in the restaurant. She shuts her eyes, listening to his emotions hum with affection and warmth. If she concentrates enough, she can feel Mack and Yoyo arrive. Mack's always steady, like the purr of an engine at altitude and Yoyo's quick and firm, like a motorcycle opening up on a clear road. 

Phil touches her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of hers. "They're here?"

"At the door." 

The restaurant has cozy, intimate rooms where they sit on the floor, and it's a little awkward in her black dress but the skirt's full and there's something comforting about it. and though Melinda's Japanese is rudimentary, the characters on the menu are beautiful and familiar enough and they have very good green tea. 

"See, I told you they'd make me sit on the floor and that I should wear pants," Yoyo says, hitting Mack on the arm. "You don't know how awkward it is to get up and down in a dress." Her jumpsuit is very practical and beautiful, deep blue, and Melinda's a little jealous but she'd have to take it off eight times to pee so maybe the dress is fine. 

Mack leans down to kiss her cheek. "You look great."

"Thanks."

Yoyo hugs her before she sits, and her eyes linger on Melinda's cleavage. "Yeah, having Coulson back really suits you." 

"Very funny."

"She wore more boring things when you were gone. Less-" Yoyo pauses, framing her own breasts with her hands for a moment, "-fun."

Melinda can't remember what she wore out to dinner with them, most of the time she was just so thrilled to see them that it didn't matter where they went. Fancy dinners just started happening when Mack's promotion became official and it felt like they needed to celebrate. 

The first course arrives, delicately prepared sea urchin, plated like a work of art and Phil and Mack start debating on how it should be prepared and Yoyo digs in, shaking her head at them. 

"You wouldn't believe the cooking shows he finds to watch in his office." 

Melinda smiles, glancing at Phil then at her cup. He refills her tea without a word, continuing to debate with Mack about some part of helicarrier paperwork while Yoyo reaches for the sake. 

"Phil used to leave nature documentaries on in the background when he was really stressed."

Yoyo smirks at that. "Really?"

"He loves kangaroos." 

"Turtle man here just wants to watch the fanciest, most ridiculous preparations of mac and cheese."

"That was cool," Mack interrupts, pointing at her with his cup. "They made their own noodles, and then this incredible cheese sauce."

"Mac and cheese comes from a box."

"That's why elevating it to cuisine is important!"

Yoyo sets aside her plate. "I think we could just have steak, and it would be fine."

Phil thinks for a moment. "There's a churrasco place we can try next time."

"Is that on Massachusetts?" Mack knows it, of course he does. Melinda could swear half of what he and Phil talk about is where to eat. 

"Close to headquarters."

"Cutting down your commute?" 

"You know how those meetings are," Mack says, reaching for more sake and sighing. "I'm tempted to do what you did and become persona non grata just to stop needing to talk to Congress."

Phil laughs and nods with him. "I recommend it." 

Melinda gets to her feet slowly, taking her time usually keeps her head from spinning, but maybe she's been sitting too long, or it's warm. She's had a good run of not being dizzy and maybe that's why she slams right into it like a sudden bout of turbulence. She wavers and the wall's right there but Yoyo grabs her before she's even really aware of how dark her vision got. 

"Hey."

"Sorry."

"Sorry? You okay?"

Phil's half up off the floor and Mack's on his knees and she loves them both. 

"I'm fine."

The weight of what hasn't been said hangs in the room, and all she can look at is Phil's face. He smiles, nods a little. She can find words for this. She nods back and his flash of acceptance is bright as a flare in the back of her mind. He'll tell Mack, then it's out. She can do this.

"Here, I'll come with you."

"I'm-"

"Oh fine, totally fine, I just, you know, sake, and I might need help with all these buttons," Yoyo jokes, pointing at her jumpsuit. "Come on." Yoyo's hand finds her back and stays there all the way to the bathroom. 

Yoyo disappears into the stall next to her and it's quiet, peaceful in the bathroom. Telling Yoyo is easier than telling Daisy, or her parents. You's already out, washing her hands when Melinda emerges from the stall. The soap smells like citrus on her hands. 

"So you're not bleeding."

"No."

"I half expected to find some kind of hidden injury."

Melinda rolls her eyes. "My blood pressure's been off."

"So, you're dying then?" Yoyo leans on the counter, watching her wash her hands. 

"Dying?"

"Heart failure? I was going to guess cancer but that seems really boring compared to everything we've lived through." 

"You think I have cancer?"

"I know you're not saying something, and if you need help telling Daisy and FitzSimmons, you know we're here for you, Turtle Man and I--"

Melinda's not sure if she's being sarcastic, and there's something, but Yoyo's all sincere, concerned, warm and worried when she touches her bare arm. 

"It's so much easier for Phil to say it." Melinda finishes washing her hands and Yoyo hands her a towel. Concentrating on the fabric and the warmth against her fingers is easier than thinking. 

"Coulson loves talking." 

"I-" Melinda takes a breath. "We're-" Maybe it's easier that way. "I'm pregnant."

"¡Carajo! " Yoyo squeezes her arm, her eyes widen, then she starts to smile, really smile. "Way better than cancer."

"Yeah." She's not going to cry. She has it together until Yoyo hugs her, hard, and fast, because she's always fast. 

"But he just got back, how did you--"

"Frozen."

Yoyo pulls back to look at her, thinking about that without questioning it. "You okay?"

"Blood pressure's off."

"That happens. My sister-in-law blacked out a couple times. I wasn't fast enough to catch her then. Now I'm all over it." Yoyo touches her belly, softly, barely even making contact. "Coulson?"

"Surprised."

"Yeah, I can see that. Back from the dead and hey, by the way--"

"He's happy."

"Of course he is, guy's been dying to be a daddy."

"Really?

"You see those jeans? He wears dad jeans, ask Mack." Yoyo chuckles. "Is he telling Mack because I want to see his face." 

"I think so."

"That was the look."

"Yeah, that was the look."

"You guys are so married it's ridiculous."  Yoyo takes her hand, tugging her out of the bathroom and back to the table. Joy radiates out from her intensely enough for Melinda to laugh, and then Mack starts to stand when they return to their table and he's so fast, warm and happy. Lifting her up, he hugs her, spinning around once with her feet totally off the floor. 

"Oh my god, May."

Phil gives Yoyo details, IVF and October and eight weeks and how surprised he was and Mack just holds her, hands on her shoulders. 

"This is great."

"Thanks." 

"You feeling okay?"

"Could sleep forever."

"Yeah, take naps. Make Coulson talk to the cadets for you." 

"That's not a bad idea."

"Do that." Mack runs his hands down her arms. Warm and concerned, and so happy. "Come, eat."

The next artistic course of food sits waiting for them and her dress flows around her feet as she sits on the tatami floor. Phil sits closer now, his hand on her thigh. 

"Well at least now you're not wasting any more time," Yoyo says over her sashimi. "October will be here before you know it." 

Melinda reaches for his hand, squeezing his fingers. 

"It'll be great."

Mack lifts up his glass. "You need anything, you call us, okay? Middle of the night, we're there, okay?" 

"You can send Mack out for ice cream, he's got people who will go get it." 

"That's true. You have cadets, make them get things for you." 

Melinda rests her head on Phil's shoulder, smiling at them. "I'll keep that in mind." 

[itgetsdarksometimes35]

Grace, Too one shot

18+

Pairings: Dark Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Following up with the reader from grace, too by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 9 years later.

Warnings: Dub con, kidnapping, multiple pregnancies, children, brainwashing, lots of errors because I just wrote this and didn’t check for grammatical errors, that’s about it I think

A/N: Please be aware of the warnings, they’re there for a reason. Although this story isn’t really going in depth of what happened, I do suggest reading the actual story by the wonderful @darkficsyouneveraskedfor In fact, I’m not suggesting. I’m telling. Go read her stuff becaus it’s legit the best, don’t be dumb. This story couldn’t have been possible without Roo, and I love her so much for allowing me to do this. She really helped bring these dark thoughts I’ve always had out and she has helped inspire me. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it! Make sure to give me feedback, it’s my first dark fic/fic in general! Without further ado:

Grace, Too

It has been 9 years. Three of which were spent locked in the basement because I couldn’t be trusted. During the time of the 3rd year I became pregnant. Not a glorious pregnant that you would see in tv, but the kind that makes you feel like you’re actually going to die. Pregnancy with a super soldier baby is regular pregnancy on steroids. Your back hurts 10x more, the kicks are more extreme and happen way before they normally should, and don’t even get me started on the morning sickness. All the while Steve was there being the most dutiful “husband.” We got married the 4th day. I kicked and screamed and punched and all it got me was a sore ass. He insisted I start cooking with the mini kitchen down in the basement. “Can’t trust you with the big guns yet” he had said while chuckling. I wasn’t much of a cook, the most I could afford, really, was ramen. Steve seemed angry at first about this, he face split for just a second before turning into the golden boy America knows and loves. “That’s okay, honey, I’ll get you a cookbook.” So I learned how to cook. It was a bumpy road but all the while Steve was encouraging, even when I totally bombed the food. He’d pat my leg and say “don’t worry you’re meant to succeed. There’s a reason I chose you, right?.” That smile of his I grew to despise. Partly because after a while I forgot what other smiles looked like on other people. Were they usually that perfect? I couldn’t remember. Another part was because I felt a tug at my heart, after a while, every time he smiled at me. I won’t say the tug was love, more like a tug that a prey would feel if it’s hunter found it to be too adorable to eat. I kept the basement spotless. Not very hard considering I only had a small kitchen with a stove, a mini fridge, a closet with utensils and food, a cooler that he filled with ice everyday, and a small counter; a sitting area with 2 chairs and a table (where Steve and I had dinner); a bathroom with a sink, toilet, small bath with legs, and a cabinet for storage; and finally a main room with a bed, and a tiny bookshelf with 3 books, aside from the 5 cooking books he got me. Steve told me I’d be rewarded with a new book every time I was good. I’ll tell you now, I only got 5 more books during those 3 years. I never really read the 3 books. Sure, my eyes glossed over them from cover all the way to the end, but I couldn’t tell you crap about Animal Farm or how it ended. Everyday he would come down after work and ask me how my day was, as if it could’ve possibly changed from the day before. He would inspect the small area I was forced to call my home, and he would smile with approval if it was up to his standards and punish me if they weren’t. The first few weeks were rough to say the least.

“Honey, you haven’t cleaned. You know what my expectations are.”

“Fuck you and you’re expectations. You’re batshit, you kidnapped me and you’re forcing me to be your wife! You need help!”

After that he’d put me over his knee and make me count. If I lost count he’d start all over. That’s the Steve I grew to know. Not the helping old ladies across the street Steve, not the I saved the world again Steve. The Steve that was broken down and tired from all the world threw at him was the one that kidnapped me. After checking to see if I did my chores, he then checked to see if his dinner was ready. One time I made a singular chicken leg. He didn’t find it funny. He didn’t hurt me often, unless it was sex or a spanking, but that day he slapped me in the face and yelled at me for being disrespectful.

“Don’t you see all that I’ve done for you? And you have the nerve to do this? Don’t be a bitch, y/n.”

“Please, Steve, just let me go.”

After that he realized what he’d done and held my crying form until I fell asleep. I woke up with an already made breakfast and an apology note.

After dinner we had sex. No, sex isn’t the right word. That would imply it was mutual, it wasn’t. But what other choice did I have? The first few nights I did try to stop him, but what’s the point? I’d wake up with bruises on my wrists from him holding me down tightly. So I just laid there. Sadly, he wasn’t too keen on that either. He’d just hit that one spot hard over and over until I was a moaning mess beneath him, begging for him. Begging for what, I still don’t know. Most times he’d make me cum over and over, just because he knew I had no other choice. He knew that I thought bed was my last source of self control; he made sure to show me that not even there I could escape the way he wanted me to feel, to think. After he was finally finished he’d roll over and pull me to his chest. We spent every single night together. He’d caress my face and push the hair out of my eye and give me such a lust blown stare.

“You know I love you, right honey?”

He wasn’t really asking

“Do you love me too?”

If I said no he’d climb back on top of me and either deny me orgasms until I was begging for him to let me cum or he’d make me cum until I was too weak to say anything but the banter of his name and “I love you, too”

The “wedding” was stupid. That’s the only word for it. Nobody was in attendance, except the spider in the corner, but he acted like there was a full house. He made me walk down an “aisle” that was really from the bathroom to him in the middle of the main room. I wore a white gown that looked like it was plucked out of a I Love Lucy episode with a pearl necklace that would make Audrey Hepburn squeal. The shoes were kitten heels that made me feel like I was walking on glass. He wore a plain black suit with a bow tie. He gave a speech and gestured to people not there and then motioned to me. I repeated some of his lines like “I knew it was love when I first saw you” and “I couldn’t be happier than in this moment.” Then he slipped the ring on, we kissed, we signed a paper, and then we danced. During which we both cried. He cried because his twisted fantasy was going his way and I cried because I realized the weight of what I’d just lost. My freedom, my job (even if it sucked), my chance at a real beautiful wedding with the wedding dress of my choosing and the man of my dreams. Most of all I wept for my future. Where was I headed?

I don’t know why it took so long for me to get pregnant. For a while I just thought we couldn’t. The serum obviously had a negative affect on his swimmers. I wasn’t going to suggest this, of course. Then he would find another way to get me pregnant, and I didn’t want that. I could handle the cleaning, the cooking, the persona of a perfect 1940’s housewife, but a baby? Before this I didn’t really know if kids were in my future, but now that I was in the situation that I was in I knew I couldn’t bring a baby into these living conditions. Born into a prison they can never escape from. Some part of me feared it was my fault. I swallowed this theory as well, this could be worse for me than the other one. If u were the problem what would Steve do? It wouldn’t be as easy as letting me go, I’ve seen too much of his true side. The fear ate me alive for 3 years, the entire time I suffered in silence just like I did everything else. Steve didn’t seem too upset about my lack of fertility, and if he was he didn’t show it. He was always so... chippy. Three years straight and never once did he get angry about the lack of a child. One day I was cleaning the room when Steve came in. I immediately jumped up while a cold sweat came down my body. Why is he here? I didn’t cook dinner yet, will he be mad? I don’t have on my housewife dress yet, it gets in the way of my cleaning. He strode in like he’d been given a raise.

“S-steve?”

He hummed but didn’t look up from the bag he had carried in and was now looking through on the kitchen table.

“Why are you home so early? I haven’t made dinner and I’m not dressed properly yet...”

“That’s alright, darling, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

My heart fluttered at this. Was he going to let me walk outside? Or was it more of an object gift? Did he bring me a cell phone? Or a watch? The only way I could tell time was when he woke me up to tell me he was leaving and that he needed a kiss goodbye. I knew I had a while before he got back but the actual time and date was lost on me.

He chuckled, again not looking up. “Well, two gifts actually.”

I start stepping closer, the anticipation killing me. He pulls out a box. He finally looks up and smiles at me. He pushes it towards me and says “open it.”

I do and inside is a onesie with a Captain America shield on it. Right next to it is a stick I’ve grown very accustomed to seeing with one line on it.

“Steve, I don’t understand..”

“I figured it’s been a while since the last time we checked. Why not give it another go, hm? I’m feeling lucky about this time.”

It was in that moment I became aware of everything in slow motion and HD. Was it always this hot in here? Is the basement really this small? Has the fridge always made such an annoying sound?

Steve walked me to the bathroom while I followed absentmindedly. I sat on the toilet and peed. It was in this moment I realized I couldn’t remember my last period. I also became freakishly aware that my stomach has been killing me for days and my boobs have been extremely tender. But I wrote them all off as being his fault. My breasts were because he was too rough in bed, my period being out of wack because I haven’t had contact with another female to sync up with (or maybe I just couldn’t remember because I had no sense of true time), and my stomach because I had been working tirelessly and I hadn’t seen the sun in years. As a timer on Steve’s phone, that I hadn’t realized he even pulled out, he immediately grabs the test. He grows a wicked smile and grabs me and gives me the tightest hug. Turns out it was his fault I was feeling the way I was feeling, it just had nothing to do with any of my theories.

After that he moved me upstairs. He made it such a big deal, I was just being moved from one prison to another. This prison was slightly nicer, though. He had a full kitchen that was bigger than the whole basement. A living room with a tv (I was on restriction from what I could watch but it was still better than those dusty books) A radio, that told me the time and gave me a date every morning (complimentary from man named Joshua Tucker that played the “best classics”). The biggest room in the house was the room I’d be sharing with Steve from now on. There were locks on the windows and doors that could only be unlocked by Steve’s handprint, but I at least got natural lighting up here. Down there all I got were a few dull lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling.

As Steve put it this meant more responsibility. More room meant more things to clean. He said he believed in me. He said I’d been a good girl lately and seeing as I’m not pregnant, I needed a better place to stay. He also mentioned that he wouldn’t hesitate to put me back downstairs if I didn’t behave. I believed him and decided that up here was better. So I behaved. He gave me prenatal to take and another medicine to help with my body’s pains. He was less rough with me in bed but he still had that edge to him. He always rubbed my growing belly, kissed it good morning and goodnight, and sometimes he would talk to it. Once I woke up to him reading to it. It was almost...normal.

One day while walking (more like waddling) around the house with my 3 month belly that, thanks to the serum, made me look 7 months. I came across a room I hadn’t been in yet. Steve didn’t introduce me to it so I hadn’t felt the need. I was ahead on my chores and the radio said I had a few more hours before I had to start dinner, so I let myself in. I figured if I were to get into trouble for going inside I would just tell Steve that I was trying to clean it, although lying with him was never my strong point. Inside was a nursery. A black toy car ford was in the corner, big enough for a toddler to ride around in. The crib was gray with a stuffed bear inside, the walls were a gray color, matching the crib, with a white accent wall. There was a changing table and the closet was open spilling at the seams with clothes. There was a toy box and a million picture frames that were yet to be stripped of their generic photos of a happy family. I knew this day would come, where would the baby sleep? It nonetheless freaked me out. It was too real. I was pregnant. I was locked in the house like a prisoner. My baby was now going to be a prisoner. Did Steve want a boy? Everything was a generic boy theme. There was even a photo album on the table that said “daddy’s little boy.” What would happen if it were a girl? I quickly leave the room shutting the door behind me. I look down the hallway and realize there’s several other rooms I hadn’t been in. Were they always there? How big could this house get? There were at least 7 other rooms and every one of them was a nursery. One was a boy nursery another was a girl, there was even a twin themed nursery. This was just baby number one.

By the time it was time for me to give birth, I was so big I couldn’t see a good 2 feet directly below and ahead of me. My hips hurt, my back hurt, my feet hurt. If I would’ve felt several kicks I would’ve said I was pregnant with quadruplets. I knew it was just a single birth, though. I always felt two feet kicking me on one side. I had no actual medical care, Steve said I didn’t need it. He said his grandmothers had given birth to both his parents at home with no problem and during their entire pregnancy hadn’t seen a doctor once. I gave birth on our bed. I felt like I was pushing for hours and the pain was the worst thing I had ever felt. Steve delivered the baby. He was a healthy looking baby boy, to which he named after himself. He had my laugh and my smile but his father’s everything else. Steve was right to name him after himself. The next pregnancies went the same way, none of them getting easier. Sarah was next, she was a spitting image of me, but she acted like Steve’s mother (or so he says). Next came the twins Peggy and Joseph, then Mary-Ann then Virginia-Lynn. I had no say in Sarah’s and Stave’s names but I chose the others. He did give me a list I was told to chose from, but I got the final say nonetheless. We filled up the house pretty quickly.

Now here I sit, pregnant, while Steve helps the kids open their presents. I made hot cocoa while the kids and Steve were out playing in the snow. I was allowed out while pregnant with Sarah, Steve said it was good to have fresh air while pregnant and Steve Jr was getting a little stir crazy while being kept in the house all day. I never tried anything, where would I go? What would I do? Who would believe me? It was better to just sit there, look pretty, while pregnant with my husband’s children. All with grace, too.

@jtargaryen18

[celtics534]

Harry, Baby, Hurry Through the Window Tonight

As promised, the hinny Christmas fic! Huge thank you goes out to @gryffindormischief​ and @thedistantdusk​ for being awesome and helping out with this cute story. Written for the SIYE challenge.

Another Muggle AU based from the prompt:Okay, he’s not Father Christmas, but he did have a very good reason for breaking into the house.

Also Read On: FF.net and AO3

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Ginny flicked on her bedroom light at the second loud crash. She had bolted out of bed when the first thud echoed from the kitchen. Because the cat had been snuggled beside her, Ginny had no idea what or who it could be; she lived on her own. 

 She rose off the mattress slowly, hoping to avoid making the old frame creak. Grabbing the cricket bat from beside the bedroom door, she cautiously stepped out into the corridor. She didn’t live in a large flat. Just a few basic rooms, such as a kitchen and toilet. Hell, the kitchen was only separated from the sitting room by a small island tabletop.

 The house was dark, but Ginny knew the layout of her ground-floor flat well. She stepped over the dumping spot for her team kit, which never seemed to make it into the laundry bin at first. She then dodged the recently arisen Christmas tree near the sofa. The kitchen was cast in a half-light from the streetlamp outside, giving Ginny a view of a dark shadow crouched near the sink. 

 Not giving it a second thought, Ginny raised the bat up high bring it down as hard as she could on the figure. 

 "Fuck!" The figure spun on its heels, keeping low to the ground but now raising arms to cover its head. Ginny brought the weapon back up high, more than ready to swing again when the man made a stop gesture. "Wait. I can explain."

 "So can I." Ginny brought the bat down to his shoulder with a satisfying smack. "You broke into my house."

 The man --and now Ginny knew it was a man -- nodded as he crawled sideways, trying to get out of her swinging zone. "Yes I did, and I'm sorry about that, but it was the first place I found with an unlocked window!" 

 "Were you looking for an easy score?" Ginny followed him as he scooted across the floor, her bat at the ready. "Because if so, you’ve got another thing coming!"

 "Easy score?" She saw the man blink as he passed in a long beam of the street light. His eyes made her pause. They were hypnotic green. He shook his head wildly. "No! I wasn't coming to rob you. I was trying to get away."

Ginny held her pose, bat ready for the next swing, but her brow furrowed. "Get away from what?"

 The man kept his hands up, his palms showing. "Can I stand up to tell you? The floor is rather uncomfortable."

 She considered saying no; she didn't want him to have any advantage. But instead, she nodded. When he rose onto his knees, Ginny kept her voice low and menacing like Bill had instructed her all those years ago; it kept fear in her opponent. "You make one wrong move and I aim for the side of your head. And I don't miss."

 His eyes went wide as he nodded. "Fair enough." When he got to his feet, Ginny couldn't help but give him  a once over. Not only were his eyes entrancing, but he was fit. Really fit. Messy black hair stuck up in odd, strangely appealing angles on the top of his head, which somehow worked well with the scruff growing on along his jawline. Fuck. If robbing houses wasn't his career, then he must be a model. 

 Don't go there, girl, Ginny scolded herself. Now was not the time or place. The man was a full head taller than her so she had to look up in order to see his eyes;she wanted to be on guard for any changes, not just because they were so… provocative. 

 "So I guess I'll start with my name." He gave her an awkward yet way-too-endearing smile. "I'm Harry."

 Looks and a name to match royalty. Fuck, Ginny! She pushed her ridiculous musings aside. "All right, Harry." Ginny gestured with her chin towards the stools that sat by the island. "Why are you in my flat?"

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 "So just to get this straight." Ginny pointed the uneaten half of her reindeer-shaped biscuit. "This bloke at the pub thought you were making a move on his girl, but really she had made a move on you. So you ran away because he had mates ready to beat you up. You choose a random road and decided to try and hide in one of the flats. The first few windows were locked but mine wasn't, because I'd burnt dinner last night and needed to open the window to let the smoke out." She quirked a brow. "Does that about sum it up?" 

 Harry nodded, taking a sip from the chipped mug that Ginny had given him. This had become one of the weirdest days of his life. It had started with that handsy girl in the bar, and now he was having tea and biscuits with the woman who's flat he'd broken into. After he'd started his tale, Ginny had started the kettle, and now thirty minutes later, they sat together like best mates. 

 Really though… Harry couldn't help but like Ginny. She was inquisitive, funny (based on the comments made during his storytelling), and not to mention she had one hell of a swing. And none of that even started to cover how fucking attractive she was. At first, he'd considered letting her keep swinging that bat at him if it meant he could stare at her.  

 "So there is just one thing that I don't quite understand." Ginny licked at her upper lip, removing a few stray crumbs. Harry had to force himself to focus on her words rather than her movements. "Why did you try to open windows? That just seems like an odd choice to make."

 He nodded. She made a good point. "Honestly... I heard their voices yelling down the street and I just went into a ‘get the fuck out of the way’ mode. I didn't really think. It was a first instinct." 

 Ginny smirked an all too sexy smirk. "Quick on your feet there, Harry." 

 Was it normal to get aroused from someone saying his name? Harry swallowed hard, hoping his cheeks didn't give away his current -- thoughts. “Well, I mean...” His hand came to rub the back of his neck. “They don’t let just anyone become a bobby.”

 “Hmmm.” Ginny’s smile became mischievous. “That true. Gotta be careful with who you trust with handcuffs.”

 Harry, who had just taken a bite from his biscuit, started to choke. He coughed, clearing his lungs of the offending cake. 

 Ginny laughed, reaching across the small table to pat his back. “Really, I should be asking to see your warrant card.” 

 Through sharp intakes of breath, Harry reached into his trousers pocket and pulled out the little wallet he kept his card in. He flipped the cover off, revealing his horrendous photo. Ginny examined it for a long moment, taking in all the information, before nodding in satisfaction. “I guess you’re safe from my bat.” She winked. “For now.”

 “Much obliged,” Harry said through large breaths. 

 She smiled at him, leaning back into her chair. They sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of merry crowds milling outside filtered by the thick flat walls. Harry tried to keep himself from staring at Ginny, but it was a nearly impossible challenge. His eyes flickered between the freckles that spread across her cheeks and nose and the few strands of hair that remained out of the messy ponytail falling over her dark brown eyes… her bewitching eyes. Pull it together Potter!

 He cleared his throat, nodding towards the last biscuit on the plate. “Wanna split it?”

 Ginny cocked her head, squinting at him in consideration. After a moment she smiled and nodded. “I guess in the Christmas spirit, I’ll share.” She broke the wafer in half and handed one side to Harry. “But just so you know, normally I wouldn’t share.”

 “Well, then I feel honored.” Harry bowed his head at her before taking a bite. 

 She snorted, biting off the top of Santa’s hat. “So, now that you’re a wanted man, what’s your plan for the night?”

 Harry shrugged. “I guess I could go back to Remus’. I was supposed to meet an old college friend at the pub but he never showed, and”-- he checked his phone-- “never even texted to tell me what happened.”

 Ginny shook her head. “Some mate you have there.”

 “He probably got distracted by his girlfriend.” Harry rolled his eyes. “His excuse will be something along the lines of, he won’t see her for a week.”

 “Wow, your mate and my brother would get along swimmingly. Sometimes I think my brother will follow her in the loo -- and not to do anything that would get them on Santa’s naughty list. He just because he can’t be apart from her.”

 Harry laughed. “Joined at the hip?”

 “To say the least.” Ginny shook her head. “But back to you, my friend. What’s Harry’s new big bad Christmas Eve.” She glanced at the clock above the stove. “Make that Christmas Day plans?”

 “Oh, you know, going gallivanting across London. Find the blokes from before, challenge them to a duel to the death, win, impress all the women that have gathered around our battle and then find my future wife in the crowd. You know, a normal Christmas miracle.”

 Ginny stared at him for a moment, her mouth agape, before she started laughing so hard her shoulders shook. 

 Warmth spread through Harry’s chest as she laughed. Fuck, she had an adorable laugh. 

 “You, my good sir,” Ginny spoke through the tail end of her guffaws. “Have high holiday hopes.”

 He shrugged, hoping to feign nonchalance, but really his head was concocting a holiday fantasy around him and her. “What about you then?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, that the smile on his lips diluted. “What were you doing home on this fine eve?”

 Ginny brought the tea mug up to her lips, taking a sip before replying, “If you must know, I was already in bed. I have a long drive tomorrow morning and I wanted to leave early.”

 “Where are you going?” Harry tried to keep his tone casual while his mind played through different scenarios, all of which ended with her meeting her ruggedly handsome boyfriend for Christmas tea and having their own little present exchange. 

 “My family always gets together for presents. Typically I would be there tonight and we’d watch Love, Actually, but I had to work today so I figured I’d just leave tomorrow morning.” Ginny’s smile became wistful. “I thought about watching before bed tonight, but --” She shrugged.

 “It’s not the same,” Harry spoke quietly, knowing exactly what she meant. He knew what it was like to put off traditions that had once been an integrated part of the holidays. Ever since Sirius had…   

 When she locked eyes with him, Harry was certain there was more than just understanding passing between them. Her gaze seemed to ignite something inside him, making his whole body tingle. 

 “Would you like to watch it?” Ginny’s laid-back tone didn’t match the ardent look in her eyes. “I have the DVD somewhere around here.”

 Harry nodded. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

 Ginny beamed at him, making his heart race like he’d run a marathon. She stood from her chair and gestured towards the sitting room. “If you can figure out the entertainment system, I’ll make us some popcorn.”

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 Ginny pressed her nose into the warm pillow, refusing to let go of the satisfying feeling of being snuggled up in such a pleasant blanket. When the tip of her nose collided with something hard, her eyes opened in confusion. All she could see was green. Her pillowcase wasn’t green…

 She pulled away from Harry’s shirt, quickly becoming aware of her surroundings. Her sitting room sofa, a throw blanket, Harry’s back against the back of the sofa, his arm resting over her hip. Ginny was too shocked to move. What the fuck had happened last night?

 As if it were a film, her mind replayed the previous night. Settling down to watch Love, Actually, talking throughout the movie, scooting closer to share the blanket, how her head had used his shoulder as a pillow. 

 Okay, Ginny forced herself to take calming breaths, which didn’t really help anything seeing as it just filled her lungs with Harry’s woodsy scent. How does he smell so good? She mentally shook herself. Not the time, Ginny!

 Slowly, she lifted Harry’s arm off her. As gently as she could, Ginny rose off the cushions, hoping not to wake Harry. Ginny picked her phone off the coffee table, checking the time. She had just over an hour before she wanted to leave for her parents’ house. 

 Ginny considered her options. She could wake Harry and kick him out, wake him up and talk with him, or just leave him and make herself some breakfast. It wasn’t a hard decision, as her stomach growled loudly. 

 It didn’t take her long to scramble some eggs and toast. As she took the kettle off the hot mat, a groan came from the sitting room. Ginny considered her options again. Deciding it would just be easier to keep everything natural, she grabbed another mug from the cupboard. 

 When Harry’s head stuck up over the back of the sofa, shivers ran up Ginny’s spine. She’s always had a thing for messy dark hair, and mix that with everything else Harry had going for him… I swear to God, if you don’t calm the fuck down, girl.   

 “And here I was gonna bring you breakfast on the sofa.” Ginny laughed as Harry nearly fell off the cushions to look at her. His charming green eyes blinked rapidly. 

 “I -- uh --” Harry’s voice was alluringly rough, and Ginny had to contain another shiver. He cleared his throat. “Not that your sofa wasn’t comfy or anything, but why did I sleep on it last night?”

 Ginny snorted. “Because I wasn’t gonna let my almost robber sleep in my bed.” 

 Harry started at that. “That’s not what I --” 

 “We fell asleep watching the film last night,” Ginny interrupted, hoping to avoid giving Harry a heart attack. 

 “We --” Harry stood from the sofa and made his way over into the small kitchen. “Oh, right.” He stopped in beside the table, his forearm resting on the back of the chair. “Well, happy Christmas. I didn’t have time to get you anything, sorry.” 

 Ginny laughed. “Seems we’re both forgetful. Will you settle for a good breakfast?”

 “Best present I’ve received all year.” 

 It shouldn’t feel so natural, Ginny thought as Harry set the table with utensils from the drying rack. She shouldn’t feel comfortable with him eating at her table. Fuck, she definitely should not want to crawl back into his arms. But there was something about Harry that was just -- magnetic. 

 They ate, chatting about nothing and yet everything. She brought up how excited she was to spend Christmas with her little nieces. Harry smiled as he told her about getting to spend the holiday with his old university mate. They talked well after their plates were clean. Ginny knew it was getting closer to the time she needed to leave, but she didn’t want to. 

 It wasn’t until they were cleaning the plates together (her washing, him drying), that time became real again.

 “What time are you leaving?” Harry asked as he placed the dry fork into the drawer she’d shown him. 

 Ginny looked at the clock. “I should have left five minutes ago.”

 “Oh.” Harry’s tone was casual, but Ginny swore she saw his shoulders drop. “I guess I should get going, then.”

 Ginny wanted to say no. She wanted to ask him to stay, which was completely ridiculous. And yet, she wanted him to be there when she returned from her parents. Ginny wanted to curl back up on that sofa and watch another film… or not watch a film. 

 She was so distracted she didn’t notice that she’d been scrubbing the same plate for entirely too long until Harry’s hand came over to stop the motion. He’d moved in close, his eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?” 

 He was so close she only needed to lean up in order to connect their lips. It would be so simple, she even started rising onto her toes before something stopped her. She pulled back, clearing her throat. “I’m fine. Just thinking about the day.” 

 Harry nodded, his cheeks turning pink. “Right.” He put the flannel down on the counter before grabbing his coat off the back of the kitchen chair. He turned back to her, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Ginny, I -- I --” He sighed. “Enjoy your Christmas.” Then he was gone, closing the front door behind him with a gentle click. 

 Ginny put her head down on the kitchen counter, regret coursing through her entire body. Why the fuck hadn’t she at least gotten his number? She lifted her head to see it was well past the time she should have left. Sighing heavily, she went to go gather her presents. She needed to get going or face her mother’s wrath for being late. 

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 Harry tried to flatten his hair for the sixth time in ten minutes. There was no reason for his nerves. He was just stopping at his mate's childhood home for a bit. Harry just wished Ron had told him about the trip to Devon. When Ron has asked him to spend the holiday with him, Harry had mistakenly assumed he'd meant at his flat. 

 "Knock it off." Ron laughed as he turned down a long dirt road. "I told you, my mum's gonna love you, despite your inability to comb your hair."

 He sent Ron a rude gesture, which just made the redhead laugh harder. The drive curved every which way, making Harry grateful he didn't get car sick. After a few minutes of winding this way and that, they pulled up in front of an old farmhouse. The foundation was off-kilter, making the rest of the building lean, but Harry loved it. It had such a homely charm between all the Wellington boots on the front porch and the chickens roaming the side garden. 

 Ron parked the car between a Land Rover and old Ford. He reached into the back seat, pulling a bag full of wrapped gifts. "Just a little something for everyone." Ron shrugged off Harry's inquisitive look. 

 They made their way through freshly shoveled paths that lead to the front door. Without knocking, Ron walked into the house calling out greetings. Harry followed behind him, looking around at all the framed photos and comfy sitting room furniture. Three men chatted while a blonde woman tended an infant.

 "Ah, you must be Harry." A pleasant voice spoke from the adjoining doorway. A balding man held out his hand. "I'm Ron's father, Arthur." 

 Harry took the offering. "Thank you for having me." 

 Arthur's smile was just as calming as his voice. "Of course! Molly and I have been excited to meet the famous Harry Potter. Let me introduce you to everyone." Arthur placed a warm hand on Harry's shoulder, guiding him through the room. "There's Bill, Fred, and George over in the chairs there." He pointed to the group of men, two of whom had identical smirks. "Fleur, who is married to Bill, and their youngest, Dominique."

 Fleur looked up from the baby and smiled at him. Arthur roved over to the doorway he'd come from, which lead to the kitchen. While the sitting room has been peaceful with a crackling fire, the kitchen was a storm of activity. 

 "And this is my lovely wife, Molly." Arthur beamed at older woman mixing some sort of batter. "Molly, Ron's friend Harry is here." Molly stopped mixing, placing the bowl down on the counter before wiping her hands on her already covered apron.

 Harry expected a handshake or maybe a pat on the shoulder as a greeting, but Molly didn't do anything in halves. She pulled Harry into a bear of a hug, making him worry about his ribs cracking. “Lovely to meet you, Harry.”

 “You too, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry choked the words out. 

 When she released him, Harry took a deep breath. “Call me Molly, dear.” She looked over her shoulder at the well-scrubbed table where two women sat. “Oh, you haven’t met Angelina and  Alicia. They’re dating the twins.” The two women gave him a welcoming grin as they continued rolling dough. “I would introduce you to our daughter, but she’s out with Vic.” Molly glanced up at the ceiling with an annoyed look, that was negated by the smile on her lips. “I asked her to help me and then like magic she was minding the little one.” 

 Like a summoning the back door opened wide, letting in a cheering little girl. “I won, Aunt Ginny.”

 “That you did, girl, that you did!” That voice. Harry’s heart jumped into his throat, he recognized that voice. Ginny walked in, her smile wide as she looked down at her niece. “But next time you won’t be so lucky.”

 Harry knew his jaw must be on the floor, but all he could do was stare. That morning all he’d wanted to do was kiss this woman, but then she’d backed away. He hadn’t wanted to push her, so he’d backed off. But fuck! She had been in his head all day. The way she seemed to heat his entire body with just one look, and how perfect it had felt when her head rested on his shoulder. Harry regretted it the moment he’d walked out her front door, he’d even considered turning around but there had been a voice in his head saying maybe it was just one-sided. That maybe she’d had pulled away from him because she didn’t want to give him false hope. 

 But when their eyes met in that kitchen, Harry could feel it again. That raw heat, mixed in with shock. Ginny’s mouth fell open. “You!”

 “Ginny!” Molly scolded. “That’s no way to greet someone.” 

 Ginny turned towards her mother, blinking rapidly. After a moment she took a deep breath. “You’re right, Mum.” When her focus came back to Harry, he swore his heart skipped a beat. “So, which one of my brothers is your old uni mate?”

 “Ron.” Harry was shocked that words were able to get past his tied tongue. “I -- uh --” He was very aware that everyone in the kitchen was watching them: Arthur and Molly with confused smiles, Angelina and Alicia with grins that were more impishly amused. 

 Ginny seemed to notice the eyes on them as well because she pointed a thumb over her shoulder towards the back door. “Care for a tour around the garden?”

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 Ginny couldn’t stop glancing over at the man walking beside her. The entire drive over she’d cursed herself for letting him leave that morning, and now he was at her parents’? She didn’t believe in the idea of fate or destiny, but the moment she’d looked into his gorgeous eyes… Ginny started re-thinking her theory. 

 "So --" Harry cleared his throat. "Don't have your bat on you, right? Because I know how you respond when someone arrives unannounced."

 "What?" Ginny had to reel her mind back to the present. "Oh, right! Well, I always happen to keep a spare in the boot of my car.” She stopped in the middle of the cleared path and pulled Harry to halt by the hand. When his eyes locked onto hers, warmth spread throughout her body like wildfire. She sent him what she hoped was a coy smile. “But if you’re telling me I may need it." 

 Harry tugged her back as she pretended to head towards her car. His pull was more powerful than she’d expected and Ginny fell right into his chest. Harry pulled back, his cheeks red from more than just the cold. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to -- I, uh --” 

 Ginny couldn’t take it anymore. What was the point of avoiding -- whatever this was between them? Her mind drifted back the film they’d watch the previous night. “So is this the moment I casually mention I wanna marry you, have loads of sex, and have your babies?” 

 If Ginny had thought his cheeks were red before, Harry put a tomato to shame at that moment. His mouth fell open as he stared at her. She could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, his memory placing the line. He closed his mouth, a hesitant smile crossing his lips. “How about we start with the second thing on your list and make our way from there?”

 “I think...” Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck, bring him to her eye level. “I can live with that.” She pressed her lips to his. It didn’t take long for Harry to respond. His fingers pressed into her hips with a tantalizing pressure. With his body pressed tightly to hers and his scent (that addicting woodsy smell) filling her lungs, everything else seemed to disappear but him. 

 “Ginny? Oh!” Molly’s voice was the first thing to break through the fog Harry had created. Ginny pulled away to see her mother standing by the back door. In retrospect, she and Harry should have gotten out of sight of the house, but she just hadn’t been able to control herself. 

 Molly gave them what was supposed to be a sheepish grin, but instead her entire face glowed with delight. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to know where she left my pie pan, but I’ll just go rummage through the cupboards. Just pretend I was never here.” And just like that, Molly was back in the house. 

 Ginny snorted. Her mum had never been one to see her children in their relationships. She’d expected to be told to get inside and get to work, but instead, her mother had --

 Harry blinked at her, his brow cutely creased in confusion.“What’s so funny?” 

 “My mum just encouraged me to keep snogging you.” Ginny shook her head, unable to hold back her amusement. “She once made Ron stop holding his girlfriend’s hand.” Her eyebrows creased. “But to be fair that girl was crazy, and everyone knew it. I guessing mum just didn’t like her.” 

 “Oh.” Harry’s confusion cleared, slowly replaced with a bashful smile. “But you think she likes me?” 

 Ginny leaned up to kiss him again. “I know I do.” She reluctantly pulled out of his arms. “Hey, you’re staying for supper, right? Would you like to stay for supper?”

 “Would you like to stay forever?!” 

 Ginny turned to the sound of her mother’s voice. Molly was hanging out the kitchen window watching the scene like an enthusiastic film watcher. All that was missing was the popcorn. “Mum!” Ginny yelled across the yard. “What are you doing?”

 “I said to pretend I wasn’t there, not that I wouldn’t be there.” Molly’s mischievous smirk was clear even from a distance. “What do you say, Harry dear?”

 “I --” Ginny turned back to Harry who was shaking, from what could only be silent laughter. “Oh, don’t encourage her,” she complained. 

 Harry laughed out loud this time. He pulled her back into his warmth, his mouth inches from hers. “And what will you do to stop me?”

 “Ah!” Ginny moved her fingers up to play with the little hairs at the base of his neck. “My bat isn’t my only method of persuasion.” Harry’s breath hitched as she ran her nose along his jaw. Just as her lips hovered over his, she stepped away. “But it is one of my favorites.” She turned and started towards her car. 

 Looking over her shoulder, Ginny laughed at the dumbfounded look on Harry’s face. Then he shut his gaping mouth and began chasing after her. As he caught her around the middle, his nose pressed into her neck. She spun in his arms and his mouth pressed to hers in a scorching kiss. Ginny had never been happier to have someone break in through her window. 

 She pulled back, nuzzling her nose to his. “I’ve got to say, Harry. You’re the most satisfying burglar I’ve ever had.”

 Harry snorted, “Just wait until I steal your heart.” When he brought his lips back to hers, she had to admit he was off to a good start.

[ahtohallan-calling]

ducklings // modern au kristanna being parents fluff // 1.3k 

still haven’t written the real followup to love is all around, (aka plane au aka professor!kristoff au) but here’s a ficlet about the baby from the last two drabbles in this verse :’) as before, you don’t need to have read anything else in this verse to know what’s going on :)

Little hands on his shoulder startle him from sleep.

“Papa,” Sofie whispers, “Papa, you gotta help me make the stuff.”

He rolls over and meets wide blue eyes, a rat’s nest of blonde curls, and a grin missing two front teeth. “It’s too early, Ducky, remember we said we’ll let Mommy sleep in?”

“The clock says eight-zero-three.”

He blinks in surprise. “It’s already that late?”

Sofie nods vigorously. “I’ve been up like seven hours already, Papa.”

“Thank you for waiting to get me up,” he says, and slides out of bed. They have been working on that; Anna and he both are night owls, but somehow their daughter is the sort of child who lives for sunrises and early-morning pleas of, “Come play with me and Sven, Papa, pleaaaase.”

(He always gives in, of course; perhaps he’s spoiling her like Anna teases him, but-- well. He’s heard these years when they still want to spend time with you are all too short, and he wants to make the most of them.)

Sofie hands him his glasses from the nightstand, and he ruffles her hair in thanks. They tiptoe together out of the room, closing the door as quietly as they can behind them, leaving Anna still curled under the nest of blankets, snoring softly.

“Are we going to do blueberry pancakes, Papa?” Sofie asks hopefully as they slip into the kitchen.

“Of course. How else can we put the heart on them?” 

He lifts her up and sets her on the counter so she can see what’s going on and help in whatever way she can. She takes after her mother; she shows her affection through action, always looking for ways to make herself useful. At first, he called her his duckling because when she was born it was with a crown of fuzzy, yellow-blond hair, but now she stays Ducky because of the way she toddles around after him, always looking for ways to get involved, like she has since she first learned to walk. 

He sets a bowl beside her and hands her the whisk. "Think you can handle the mixing, skatten min?"

She nods solemnly. That she gets from him, a sense of duty about even the smallest things when it involves her loved ones. He kisses her forehead before pulling out the milk and eggs, and she giggles.

"That tickles, Papa!" she says, patting his unshaven cheeks.

He puts her to work whisking the eggs and milk and oil together while he measures the flour. She wraps her chubby fist around the whisk and attacks the mixture wholeheartedly, the full force of a five-year-old’s latent fury unleashed upon the unwitting liquid, and as she works her tongue pokes out just a bit from the corner of her mouth, another little habit she has inherited-- or perhaps learned; he can never decide which he thinks it is-- from her mother. It still gives him pause sometimes, the wonder of it all, the fact that between the two of them they somehow made this marvelous little creature. Before he had met Anna, he had had the idea that perhaps he was destined to be a lifelong bachelor, had resigned himself to frozen entrees and dodging questions at extended family gatherings, but now he likes to think that a part of him was always meant for this, that his meeting Anna wasn’t some happy accident but a twist of fate that had lain in his path all along. 

Sofie holds up the bowl for his examination; he gives her a nod of approval, and her face lights up. “Can I do the flour, too?” she asks hopefully.

It’s tempting, it really is, when she looks up at him with those Anna-blue eyes, but last time he let her, there had been so many lumps left that even the cat had turned up his nose. It had broken Sofie’s heart, no matter how much he reassured her that it was the sort of mistake anyone could make. “Well, Ducky, I was wondering if actually you might help sort through the blueberries and help pick out the best ones.”

She accepts this solemn duty with glee, inspecting each little blue orb with a squint before setting aside those that meet her criteria and eating those that don’t. There doesn’t seem to be much difference between the two, really, but it keeps her distracted long enough for him to finish mixing the batter and get the first one poured into the pan. “Smiley or heart, d’you think?”

“A heart with a smile,” she proclaims.

“Absolutely brilliant idea,” he says, setting her on his hip so she can lean over the stove and plop the blueberries in herself. When she’s done, the pattern doesn’t particularly resemble a smile or a heart, but he thanks her anyway before flipping the pancake over.

He sets her to the task of scrambling eggs and stirring in the cheese as he finishes up the pancakes, and luckily she doesn’t notice when he turns away to finish breaking a yolk or two after she hands him the bowl. When at last it’s all plated and set carefully on the tray, she claps her hands with delight. “You’re a very good assistant, Papa,” she says, and he gives her another kiss on the forehead because she’s his little girl and he loves her to the moon and back and that’s more than enough reason. 

He carries the tray as Sofie darts up the stairs ahead of him and launches herself onto the bed. “Mama!” she squeals as Kristoff flips the light switch. “Happy Mother’s Day!”

Anna turns over, squinting at the sudden brightness, but there’s a huge smile on her face as she sits up and pulls her daughter into a hug. “Aw, thank you, Sof!” she says, nuzzling her nose against the little girl’s. “You really did all this for me?”

“Mhmm! Papa helped!”

Kristoff sets the tray down on the end of the bed so that he can lean over and kiss his wife’s cheek, but before he gets too close, she wrinkles her nose, turning a funny shade of gray. “Oh, there’s eggs, I-- fuck!” she says, and squirms out from under Sofie before running into the bathroom next door, a hand already over her mouth.

Neither Kristoff nor Sofie speak until she turns up to him, her blue eyes already welling up with tears. “Mama said a no-no word,” she says, her voice quivering, and he swoops her up into his arms, not quite trusting himself to speak just yet. Anna loves scrambled eggs with cheese; she hasn’t turned up her nose at them, definitely not gotten suddenly sick at the sight of them for going on six years now.

Surely not, he thinks to himself, though his heart is already picking up hopeful speed. Last time they said that was it, not to get our hopes up. But maybe--

Before Sofie’s sniffles can turn into a full-on cry against his shoulder, he hears the toilet flush, and Anna reemerges, looking sheepish. “I’m so sorry, my loves,” she says, taking Sofie and giving her a quick kiss on the top of the head. “Your breakfast looks really wonderful, I swear, and I’m so so surprised, really! I just...well. I had a Mother’s Day surprise for you guys, too.”

She looks up at him with that little crooked smile he fell in love with the first time he saw it. “I guess next year you’ll have two kitchen assistants, Chef Sofie, d’you think that’ll be alright?”

Sofie looks up at Kristoff, confused, and suddenly he realizes his eyes are blurry. “You’re gonna be a big sister, Ducky,” he manages to get out, and now she looks even more worried.

“Why does that make you sad, Papa?”

He can’t hold back any longer and pulls them both into a tight hug. “Not sad at all,” he says, dropping a kiss on each of their heads. “In fact, I think I might just be the happiest I’ve ever been.”

[lilslotsofchat]

JUMPER 2 - Four/Billy

posted this a few times i don’t know if people are seeing this

warnings : death / attempted su*cide s/ swearing

———————————————————————

no one knew ones story. they knew he was an asshole and he cared for eight like she were his own kid. one was rich everyone knew it. he had access to planes and guns he just returned every week with a new case full to the brim. four and eight wondered to the back corner of the graveyard on their skate boards. they held hands as they skated. speaking about their past and how they missed thieving together. “we haven’t explored this plane.” eight said stopping in her tracks. she saw the boeing 747. she jumped off her board and began scaling the plane. four followed behind her. the two of them made it to the top of the plane and stood looking at their base about a half mile away from them. his arms wrapped around her. “i miss kissing you mid mission like we used to.” he said looking down at the girl he loved dearly. her hands wrapped around his neck her fingers pulling at the hair on the back of his neck. four pulled her in for a kiss their lips met perfectly. the sun set was a backdrop for the couples kiss. four pulled back he looked down at her smiled and then kissed her again. the couple pulled back and looked at each other. four helped her down off the plane. he kissed her when they got on their boards. four and eight rode back to camp laughing at each other rolling over on their boards. eight dived on the floor. four jumped off to pick her up and she just sat there laughing. her fall was funny and four couldn’t help but chuckle along with her. one came out of his cabin and saw the two of them curled up on the floor. “yo children meeting now” one called. eight got up with the help of four. four took their boards back to the dome.

eight walked with one to the belly of the biggest plane. she climbed to her normal spot. behind the group on the tier as one called it. “eight you need to focus today.” one said to the woman who was getting comfortable in her seat. two walked in with five and three followed a few minutes later. “eight where’s four” three asked the kid who was watching through the hole in the metal. “jogging over now” she said. four looked up at his girl and ran under into the belly. he walked to his normal spot. one was talking about getting a seven. he found someone who fit perfectly. he wouldn’t be a driver but he was a sniper. eight smiled the gap of the number that her stubborn mind left. eight was supposed to be five. she declined the number. she wanted an even number. one had already decided on his six. so he gave her eight. he knew that four and herself knew each other. very well. he allowed her to be eight as he felt that four and eight were the ones that needed to be a pair. he tried to tell them that but it didn’t make sense. “eight your coming with me we’re leaving first thing tomorrow we’ll be back in two weeks” one said. four looked up at eight and she smiled. the crew left and one and four stayed. eight climbed down the back of the beam. she dropped to the floor. her ankle jerked as she landed but she brushed it off. she limped over to four who noticed she shook him off before he asked. “the two of you did really well in florence. it may have been a shit show but if it wasn’t for the pair of you there probably would have been more than one death. thank you” one said. the couple nodded. “are you okay eight” four asked his girlfriend. she nodded. “i’m fine” she replied. his arm wrapped around her waist. “here’s your wages” one said digging around in a draw and pulling out two thick envelopes. “thank you one.” eight said. eight limped around to one and hugged him. he hugged her back tightly. “if i lost you eight i’d be fucked.” he whispered into her ear. she hugged back again to suggest she heard and she understood. “both of you spend time together tonight. we might be longer than two weeks” one said. eight nodded. “i’ll meet you here in the morning” she said before leaving with her arm wrapped around four. she had hurt her ankle badly but she didn’t want anyone to know.

four began cooking pasta for eight and himself. eight got in the shower and cleaned her body and hair. four came in to use the toilet. “are you okay with going away for two weeks babe” four asked leaning on the sink cabinet. “yeah we need a new six and wine of them isn’t going to come walking to us” she said to him stepping out of the shower and picking up a towel. “but we just got back and you need rest. you’ve just fucked your ankle as well.” he said to her. she laughed. “billy i’m fine baby.” she pressed a kiss to his lips and walked out of the bathroom. she looked down at her ankle and the side he’s bruised. “get dressed food is ready” he said in the doorway. eight got changed into her joggers and one of billy’s old hoodies. he smiled and kissed her. when she limped past. “let me see your ankle.” he asked as she sat on their sofa. he brought over their pasta and put it on the coffee table. “babe it’s really okay i’ve just twisted it” she muttered taking the pasta bowl he set out in front of her. he pulled her feet onto his lap. he looked down at her ankle. “gee it’s bruised.” he said rubbing it lightly with his fingers. she hadn’t heard her own name from him in days. “ow” she muttered. he looked up at her sharply. “i’m calling five” he muttered grabbing his phone from the side. “billy it’s fine” she put her hand on his. his fingers locked with hers. “no gee you’re a runner. what if it gets actually fucked like fucked fucked. you’ll be stuck shooting guns with two. i need you fucking running with me.” billy’s panicked voice was filling quicker than usual. his hands running through his hair. “call five but if you’ve woken her up for no reason she’s going to be raging at you” eight said giving into her boyfriend. billy stood up. “five can you come to me and eight shes fucked her ankle and it’s all bruised. she’s been limping since the meeting and okay your coming thank you.” four said. he opened the door and left it open for five to come over. “stick the pasta back in the pot to warm it up.” eight said to four he nodded and took the pasta and started to reheat it.

five came over she had her medical bag in hand just incase. she saw eight laying on the sofa. “you are a fucking idiot” five said to the woman. “get one” five snapped at four. four walked out of his cabin and came back over five minutes later with one complaining. in those five minutes five had strapped up eights ankle. “what’s happened” one asked seeing eight being strapped up. “she fucked her ankle” four said. “i am aware i was there what has she done five” one asked sitting down on the chair at the table. four stood in the doorway. “she’s fractured the bone in her foot” five said looking at one. one formed a o with his mouth. four put his hand to his face. “will she be okay to leave for a month” one asked. “you said it was a fucking fortnight” four snapped at their leader. “not the point” eight said. “she will be fine. she’s just gotta use a crutch on her foot” five said to her and one. four just stood in the back. watching he looked at his girlfriend. “next mission” one questioned. five looked around in her bag. “it can’t be in the next two months if she will do what she always does.” five said to one. four muttered under his breath. one looked around the cabin. he looked like he was thinking of a plan. “she’s still coming with me tomorrow. for the month. she will be fine four you can text and call her she isn’t dead to you. she’ll have to rest as much as she can when she’s with me. i’ll make sure she’s fine. well come back as quick as we can.” one said. he looked at four who looked worried. “four can we have a chat” one asked the blonde in the doorway. four nodded and led him to the bedroom.

five packed up her bags and put them by the door. “thank you five” eight said. “don’t walk on it tonight i’m sure four can carry you to bed.” five said to her she smiled at her friend. eight sat up when four came back through to the living area. his face was red and one walked out right away. “sleep well eight five. four i’ll see you dawn” one said. four stood at the stove clearly fuming. “thanks five i’ll see you tomorrow” eight said five nodded and left taking her bags. four closed the door. “calm down” eight said to her raging boyfriend. “one said to me that if you don’t heal up in the next week he’s taking you off the next mission” four said mixing the pasta again. “okay and why are you so angry four.” she asked him. “call me fucking billy gee. you are not with anyone.” billy snapped. “why are you mad billy” she asked him her voice softening.

their last heist together was a shit show. gee was injured her arm was broken but she still came. billy was so mad she turned up at the apartment they were stealing a necklace from. he screamed at her but she knew he was always stressed during these things. he didn’t work with trustworthy people they stole from him as they were thieves but they stole his life. “fuck, we ain’t leaving till we have the kalahari” billy shouted throwing a set of draws on the floor. gee looked over at billy from her set. she pulled open a draw and billy came up behind her and picked up the necklace put it in his mouth. gee took it and he moved around her quickly to the desk next to the side. “billy we’ve gotta go” a voice called. gee looked up. “fuck sake where is it” she muttered. “go ive got it.” billy screamed. gee ran. the group were jumping and sprinting away from the building that they were stealing from. gun shots were heard. and a team memeber was killed. gee noticed and gasped. billy rushed her on. they dropped through the floor and landed on another roof. gee screamed at the pain in her arm and billy grabbed her and ran. he still had the kalahari in his mouth. they began climbing across the hotel sign which was their get away. gee made it across and billy was just behind her before he dropped. he caught onto a strand of wires. gee turned around. “fuck billy” she screamed. there was no way getting across. billy was hanging. he was smart he knew what to do. he swung and was able to grip onto part of the concrete on the opposite building. the female who was in their group grabbed onto the kalahari had no intention of saving billy’s life. gee could hear his cries of taking his hand with the muffled tone from the kalahari in his mouth. gee stood with her hand over her mouth her heard pounding. “take his fucking hand” gee screamed. at that point billy fell his grip faltered and his body began falling. gee screamed his name and saw the panic in her eyes as he fell. she began trying to scale down the building but her broken arm did not allow her.

it took her at least twenty minutes to make it back to the original building they were in. the crew left her behind she was sobbing running over the rubble and tripping yelling in pain at her arm. “billy” she yelled. she stumbled to where he would have fallen. there was nothing. no body. “billy” she called looking around. there was his coat on the floor. “please billy where are you” she cried. she fell to the floor holding onto his coat. she looked around and saw nothing. there was the wood that had fallen with him. she just sobbed for how ever long. gee walked back to their apartment in ukraine. crying she opened their flat door. “billy are you here.” she called her voice breaking. gee climbed into bed and laid there for a week. she was weak. the house phone rung at 8am a week after billy disappeared. gee climbed out her bed weakly and walked to grab the phone. “hello darling” billy’s mother said down the phone her south london accent really shinning through it. gees mouth dropped. she was too busy whining about billy she didn’t tell his mother and brother. “josie” gees voice broke. “gee are you okay lovely” his mother asked softly down the phone. gee and billy’s mother were extremely close and called every other day. she knew that her son and his girlfriend were travelling around all the time she didn’t know they were stealing but she loved gee dearly. “i’m sorry josie” gee sobbed into her hand. she was weak and hadn’t eaten other than a few crackers that were in billy’s side table. “what’s happening hunny where’s billy is he with you” josie asked her sons girlfriend. “he fell and his body wasn’t there i looked for hours josie.” she cried to her. “billy isn’t alive” josie asked. gee sobbed. “i couldn’t find him. i looked for so long” she cried. gee was dirty. “it’s okay baby. it’s okay. i’m coming to ukraine. we’ll arrange everything i’ll be there tomorrow morning.” josie said her eyes filling with tears but she knew that gee grew up with billy by her side. they ended up together. gees parents disappeared and left gee on josies doorstep. billy loved gee since they were 13. billy finally asked her out when they were 16. they had been dating since then. “have you eaten hunny. jack book flights to ukraine.” josie said to her oldest son. her voice was faltering. “i ain’t eaten anything” gee said her voice breaking.

billy’s funeral happened in ukraine. josie jack and gee stayed and lowered an empty casket into the floor. jack had packed up the whole apartment into boxes. two of billy’s friends showed up and left before the end they did not stay till the casket was in the floor. gee was sobbing. jack had his hand on her back rubbing small circles in her spine like billy used to do and she cried even more. josie hugged gee tighter when the mud was thrown onto. “we send to the heavens william fredrike lee” the preist said. gee hadn’t heard billy be called william since they were 18 and in trouble for stealing his mothers alcohol. gee didn’t know that billy was on a rooftop watching her cry. she looked ill. like she was going to fall apart any second. he wanted to go to her but she had just closed off a casket with an empty bed. one the man gee would meet in a few months time was stood next to the blonde crying watching his girlfriend sob. “it had to be done.” one said. gee was broken.

gee grieved in london at her second home. josies house. one day she made she was well enough to leave for a walk. one had been watching her. he followed her to a place where billy and gee came on their first date as adults. she stood at the top of the building looking out at the city. her eyes jumped across buildings that the couple had climbed. they began stealing in their late teens. the first thing they stole was cookies from a shop then it grew then it grew to asda when his mother took them on shopping trips when they were 14 and they always got a rush from it. it grew and grew till billy lost his life. gee was crying. her eyes were weak and she was skinnier than she couldn’t live without him. he was her everything and she was his. gee stood with her arms out. “hello gee” a soothing american voice peeled up. gees heart began to race even more. her breathing was heavy and the man could hear it. he stood ten feet away from her. she hadn’t spoken to anyone other than jack and josie in months. “i know this is a bad time. i really do but you need to listen to me” the man said. gee looked over her shoulder. she saw a man with a full beard. he looked gentle. he looked like he would hold her and comfort her. “you lost billy to a fall in ukraine. what if i said you could steal for the rest of your life with big money in the game” the man said. gee looked back at him and turned around. her face shocked. “i’m about to kill myself and you come out with this shit” she says to him. he laughed. “as i said this is a bad time.” the man said.

[ultradiplr]

#1 Fan

Plot: You catch the eye of your favorite baseball star Siebren de Kuiper before a game~

Tags: Sort-of-Sexting, Age Difference. Semi-Public. BJ. Overuse of the smiling emoji. Reader radiates big bottom energy, but is otherwise gender neutral. Sigma is a… Fuckboi. lol

A/N: I have no self control and even though I have like five other things I’m working on right now @sketchingshow ‘s Baseball!Sigma has given fuel to a new fire.

Xx

You look at the clock over the ticket booth and grimace, looking down at the digital ticket you had pulled up on your phone screen, mentally face palming at how you had gotten 12:30 and 2:30 mixed up. You sighed and walked up to the qr scanner, verifying yourself, and walked through the rotating metal pipes of the entrance, figuring since you were already here you might as well check in. It’s not like you could go home and wait considering it took you an hour to get here.

Oh, the things you were willing to put up with so you could see your favorite baseball player Siebren de Kuiper in his last season.

There were a bunch of people here already, staff and fans alike, though mostly for the home team, so you weren’t that anxious at being so early. You walked through the entrance hall, taking a few photos of some of the player posters hanging, and out through a vomitorium that lead into the stadium. You looked out over the empty field, bright and green and surrounded by high walls of seats, and took a quick selfie with the vast expanse of the stadium behind you, at least being this early meant no one knocking you down or being in the way for a cute photo. 

You wandered down closer to the field, taking in the smell of freshly cut and watered grass, and took a load off in one of the more expensive seats. The home team was currently practicing before the game so you didn’t really care that much about watching them, content to fiddle with your phone until somebody told you to move. 

For a while you browsed some videos and looked through your social media when you got an alert. Siebren de Kuiper had posted an update on his profile. You tapped the notification and simultaneously had your heart drop into your feet and your stomach rise into your lungs when you saw something you never thought you would,

A picture of you, sitting alone in the stands wearing his name and number, boredly looking at your phone with the caption, 

“Not seen much nowadays, an eager fan. Lol. -Siebren.”

Your face was instantly set ablaze with embarrassment, too embarrassed to glance up and see the teams trading off field time, not sure how you’d react if you actually saw him looking in your direction. God, you wanted to die, but at the same time you felt like shouting out loud and dancing. You didn’t know what to do, you’ve never been noticed by a celebrity before. Should you leave a comment? Reshare it? Screencap it, print it, and hang it on your wall? Well, maybe not that, but what! Oh god this was so cool and crazy and oh god, you looked so weird in this pic! Was that what it looked when you sat down? Such poor posture! Ugh and you looked so tired! Would it be weird to try and doll yourself up or-

You shake your head and pinched the bridge of your nose, you were overthinking this. What would a normal person do in this situation? You typed out a quick comment. “Haha, that be me!” No, no too childish. “Wtf, that’s me!!!” Too surprised. Hmmm...

“Lol that’s me!”

Normal and friendly. Exactly how it should be. You were proud of yourself as you submitted the comment, marveling at it under his picture. You were nervous at him seeing it as you scrolled through his feed a little, mostly selfies of him with his team, over filtered pictures of his home life, and reshared posts about space facts and dumb baseball puns. It was honestly kind of adorable and underappreciated, if the low amount of likes meant anything, the man was as wholesome as they came and no one seemed to appreciate it!

A new notification popped up as you scrolled, a reply to your comment!

You tapped it and felt your heart flutter, Siebren de Kuiper had liked and replied!

“Thank You for your eager support then! :) - Siebren.”

A wide smile crossed your face at that, god that was adorable! You typed out a reply without thinking,

“Always a pleasure! <3” 

You giggled when you hit confirm, insides all warm. This was so cool. Like, literally, this was the coolest thing ever. You glanced up to the field, face burning when you noticed that he sat not too far away from you, sitting in the dugout a little diagonally from you, tapping away on a smartpad. Most likely browsing his own stuff. That was cool. He was cool. And handsome. And nice. And funny. And smart. And- okay your brain was going haywire. 

You needed to take a walk before you began to hyperventilate. You stood up and walked back into the entrance hall where miscellaneous vendors had set up, mostly baseball paraphernalia for the visitor’s team since the home team had it’s own gift shop in the building. You browsed a bit to distract yourself from the excitement. 

You were looking at a new version of the shirt you were already wearing when your phone buzzed with a notification.

“New direct message.”

That was odd, you never got dmed. You quickly opened it to find that you got a message from a random, empty account you weren’t following named Sigma14, weird name.

Where did you go?

You always forgot to lock dms to private, shrugging, you typed out a quick reply.

Sorry, Wrong person!

You were flipping through your settings to find the right configuration when a new reply came through.

Oh, I’m sorry!

I forgot this was my personal account!

It’s me, Siebren!

Your heart stopped and heat filled your body again, but your rational mind was rightfully unconvinced.

Yeah, sure you are.

Just send me the virus link

lol

You typed out, but waited for a reply this time, not knowing if you’d prefer to be let down with this being some weird scammer or actually get a real reply. Both seemed equally upsetting but for different reasons and on different ends of the spectrum. 

Here’s Proof!

He sent a few pictures. The first was of him, smiling into the camera with a thumbs up while sitting in a dugout, his face sweaty and his greying hair a little mused, then the next was a picture of the field you were just in, the name of the stadium clearly seen, and the last was a picture of the seat you were sitting in with a red question mark and arrow pointing to it. 

See!

He added after. You hugged your phone and squealed quietly, suddenly bursting with energy. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. It was really him!!!

akdjfldjsaf!

it’s really you!!!

I’m a huge fan!!

You typed out excitedly. 

Haha

I noticed!

Thank you for supporting me!

:)

So where did you run off to?

You took a photo of the shirt table you were standing at, glad that it was still pretty empty so no one seemed to mind you loitering around the table. You framed two different shirts with his name and number on it in two different colors, home and away.

Just buying some merch.

I need a new shirt

Lol

Which one do you think I should get?

You smiled when the texting bubble instantly popped up, feeling bubbly at the knowledge he was paying attention to you and not practicing.

Firstly, You have excellent taste!

And secondly, I don’t know…

I think I’d have to see it on you!

That last message almost killed you as you stood with your mouth open, if you’d been an omnic you were sure you’d have overheated and combusted. What the heck! What the Heck! Was he? No. Was he? No, surely not! He couldn’t have. That was… that was.. Did he just ask for a pic? You were blushing hard and silently staring at the words on screen before the typing bubble came up again.

Goodness!

I’m sorry for that last sentence!

I didn’t realize how that sounded!

I hope I did not upset you!

You let out a breath reading his reply, nerves calming. Of course he didn’t! Why would world famous baseball star Siebren de Kuiper want to get a pic of you in his jerseys? You were sure he could have actual models if he wanted. He didn’t need you! Oof, that was harsh, but true.

asfadaafsd haha

it’s alright!!!!!

I didn’t think anything of it

I think I’m just going to buy both, they’re both nice

You quickly replied, not wanting him to think you were upset at him. And you weren’t. Surprised, yes. But not angry. You mean, you’d totally send pics to him if he wanted, but you were sure he’d never want that. Right? 

They are!

And I’m sure both will look great on you!

:)

Your hands flexed on your phone as you gripped it a little tighter, looking at the two still unpurchased shirts. You picked up the shirts up, buying them and went to the nearest bathroom. You take off your shirt and replace it with the away shirt, leaving it a little unbuttoned, and snapped a mirror selfie, and looked at it on your phone. Cute despite the bathroom behind you. You did the same with the home shirt. 

You sat on the toilet holding your phone tightly as you debated actually sending them. They weren’t very explicit but still, the implication would be carried if he really meant anything the first time around. If he meant anything. Which he probably didn’t. So these photos wouldn’t be too bad to send… right?

You bit your lip and hit send. Waiting anxiously for a reply. Your heart was racing as you waited, feeling your blood pressure rise when the typing bubbles popped up.

:) :) :)

I was right.

They do look good on you!

You erupted in a fit of giggles, nerves a little on fire, god this was the craziest thing you’ve ever done. He wasn’t finished as more texts came in,

Would you like to get them signed?

:)

Holy fuck. Was he flirting with you? He had to be, right? Well shit, you couldn’t pass this opportunity up! You quickly typed out a reply, fingers shaking a little.

Would you?!?

Omg that would be amazing!

His reply came in instantly,

Come by entrance five in ten minutes.

I’ll gladly sign you.

:)

You actually yelled laughed, face burning like a stove, and pumped your fist in the air. Yes. Yes. Yes. You left the bathroom insanely giddy, wearing the white home shirt, and went to look at a map of the stadium. Entrance five was the farthest from the main entrances, and from what it looked like on your phone, a part of the stadium that was going to be completely empty. You chewed your lip as you made your way over there, nerves on fire. God you hoped this was going the way you wanted it and you hadn’t just misinterpreted everything.

About twelve minutes later as you sat in the empty hallway flipping through your phone and trying to distract yourself from your racing thoughts, he walked in through the stadium side. You got up instantly as his large shadow stretched across the floor. God, he was tall. Seven feet if you remembered correctly, two feet taller than you, and broad, insanely broad, arms like pythons. He looked a bit sweaty in his baseball uniform, an outfit that hid very little on his hulking frame, and smiled at you apologetically.

“I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He said coolly as he walked inside.

 He stepped up toward you gently, a kind smile as he held out a hand. You grasped his hand with both of yours, his hands were large, insanely, fuck, he was so much bigger than you, your mouth watered a little. 

“It’s no problem, I was happy to wait!” You said nervously and a little quickly, “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeated in his slightly accented voice, warm and absolutely lovely, sounding a lot different than what you were used to from watching interviews. “A lovely name.”

You laughed nervously and looked off, embarrassed, “T-thank you.” you stutter out as you dropped your hands to hide in your pockets.

“So, make this out to Y/N then?” He asked, pulling a pen out of his pocket and looking at you softly. God, your heart was a puddle.

“Uhh, yeah, I guess.” You said and he hummed in agreement.

You were going to hold out a piece of your shirt out for him to sign, but instead he stepped a little closely and bent down, putting the tip down just under your shoulder. You didn’t miss the glimmer in his eye as he bent in close, holding you still a little with his big hands, and wrote delicately on your skin. You held your breath, biting your lip as the hulking mass of him was so close to you, making your head swim.

“To my loyal fan Y/N,” He said as he wrote, his tone having gone down a notch, making your skin erupt in goosebumps, “Siebren.” He signed, eyes locking with yours as he stood back up.

You laughed breathlessly, leaning on the wall behind you for support as he didn’t move back much, looming over you a bit. 

“T-thank you, I, uh… thanks.” You said, biting your lip a little and fluttering your eyes.

He smirked as he leaned on the wall above you, caging you a little, though leaving enough room that if you really wanted to leave you could. He was giving you a chance to stop, maybe saving face if he also misinterpreted, this was all up to you.

You chewed your lip as he looked down at you expectantly. Your hands shook a little as they rose and gently rested against the rough fabric of his uniform over his chest. He continued watching you, eyes darkening as you hands wandered over his abdomen, feeling him up a little. He was so firm and a lot more ripped than you had thought. This man was a damn brick house.

You hesitated a little as you got lower, looking up at him for permission as your fingers got to his waistband. He smiled, his hand not propping himself against the wall raising to grasp your smaller ones and gently pushing you lower himself, right over his half hard on.

He huffed hotly as you made contact with him through his pants and you couldn’t help the little whine that escaped your throat. You felt him up, mouth watering a bit at the feel of the size of him, only half hard it was already bigger than the length of your hand. You groped and stroked him through his pants, pulling a few groans from him for the effort, but as he got harder he stopped you.

“Enough of that.” He said a little strained, voice heavy with lust as he patted your greedy hands away.

He stood up a little, no longer leaning over you for a moment as both hands went to undo his belt as your hands rested on his large thighs, you mind momentarily filled with the image of you straddling these thick slabs of meat. When he finally pulled himself from his pants, just as long and thick as you always imagined.You licked your lips and looked up at him, his face red, sweaty and eyes looking at you hungrily, it made you shiver in excitement. Fuck, you wanted him to come undone.

Without any prompting you bent down and kissed his cockhead as you slid onto your knees, earning a breathless word in dutch. You didn’t know what it was, but it sounded endearing and it stroked something inside you. He had to bend his knees a little and haunch over you, leaning his head against the wall, the height difference a little difficult while standing, but it made it all the more hotter in your opinion.

You lavished his hard cock with wet kisses and gentle stroking, going off the amazing noises he was making to get a feel for what he liked as you licked him sloppily. His dick was so hard and hot and beautiful His tasted a bit salty but he smelled really good, like grass and dirt and... chalk? It was a strangely arousing combination.

You smiled up at him as he stared at you, eyes half lidded and face red, looking a little angry and a little delirious. So handsome. Like a wet dream. You trailed a line of kisses from the underside of his base up to his tip, eyes locked with his as your lips got closer to his head, and when you did, you opened your mouth and laid his head on your tongue.

He moaned loudly, his hips canting and slipping through your hold into your mouth a little, dragging another moan out of him as you enveloped his head with your soft mouth. A hand dropped from the wall above you as it weaved itself into your hair. Your tongue swirled around his head, humming with please as he choked a little at the feel and gripped your hair a little harder.

He began to circle his hips a little, his cock slowly leaving and entering your wet mouth, getting a little deeper as he went. You just took it, drooling and moaning as he got deeper and deeper and pulled out less and less. As you got most of him in he stilled to a halt, breathing hard as you swallowed around him, looking at him with eyes full of hot tears with the stretch. Fuck, the feeling of him so deep was glorious, but he hadn’t hilted, and despite the fact he looked about to bust and you were not that sure if you could, you began bobbing your head a little to get farther.

His strangled moans where music to your ears as he didn’t stop your endeavor, burying his head in the crook of his arm against the wall as his other hand still had a tight grip in your hair. Your throat was getting raw as you mouthfucked him and you knew that you were probably depriving yourself with sufficient oxygen, but you didn’t care, the desire to please him much too large. 

Finally your nose met the pubes on his groin and he held you still against him, every muscle on his body pulled taut. He was mumbling something, but it didn’t sound like English, or dutch for that matter, just pure breathless gibberish as you felt him pulse in your mouth. You focused on breathing and relaxing around him, brain too scrambled to do much else.

Everything felt so good, your nerves were so sensitive and every little sensation made you shiver in desire.  The feeling of your shirt against your chest, of your pants against you groin, of his fingers in your hair, of the feeling of his thighs under your hands, it all felt so good. Fuck, having him in your throat was turning you on so much it felt like you were going to cum from this alone.

Slowly he began to rut into your mouth, using your mouth as his own little fleshlight. Fuck, it was so hot. H was breathing so hard, his thighs twitching under your hands. He was saying something now, dark and needy, spoken like demands or praises but you couldn’t understand him, couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the squelch inside your head of him fucking into your throat.

Your eyes lulled and you just moaned around him, feeling the drool spill onto the front of your shirt as he fucked you to delirium, choking you repeatedly on his cock. Suddenly he held you tight to his base and said the first words to break through the haze of lust since you started, 

“Swallow.” He said through grit teeth, like you had any other choice.

The feeling of him twitching in your mouth and spilling his hot cum in the back of your throat triggered your own orgasm, and without any direct stimulation your body was wracked with a full body shiver. Your body flinched against his hold as you felt the thick liquid get forced down, but he held you steady, and before he was finished, he pulled out quickly to squirt the last of himself on your slightly swollen lips and drool covered chin.

You would have been angry if you weren’t so out of it. He hummed with please as you stared up at him through the tears in your eyes, tilting your face up to him so he could see the copious amount of cum on your tongue.

“Swallow.” He said softer than before, out of breath.

You obediently closed your mouth and swallowed, opening it again to show him and he smiled widely, petting your head. 

“Goed, goed.” He purred and it made you bristle in happiness in your post orgasm state.

You stayed like that for a while, him petting you and whispering kind words as your mind slowly booted up again. As he got himself presentable again and you cleaned yourself, he helped you back onto your feet and you checked the time on your phone. 2:15? Geez, time really flew by.

You were about to alert him of this when his hand met your lower back as he lead you back toward the entrance hall, “Yes, I know.” He said with a wink.

You were confused until you actually got out and saw through the large glass windows of the entrance the sheets of rain pouring over everything. There was an alert on your phone from the ticket holder, 

Delayed Game.

You looked up at him and he smiled smugly, “It seems I have a bit more time before the game.” He said with fake surprise.

“Do you have anything else you’d like to get signed?” He asked, hand still on your lower back as he lead you into the more private area of the stadium.

The fire of desire was lit again and you smiled up at him, “I still have two more shirts.” you say innocently.

He hummed and you felt his thumb rub lightly over your lower spine, 

“Well, then, let’s find a pen.”

[craftygoateeprincess]

ITinktober Day 8: Memory

The delectable scent of fear cascaded off the child in waves. Her brow furrowed in her sleep and she whimpered ever so softly, a barely voiced exhale in the silence of her bedroom, unaware of the monster standing at the foot of her bed.

Its deadlights shone through Pennywise’s eyes like a flashlight, turning redder by the second, as saliva pooled on his lower lip and dripped into a puddle on the floor. The child smelled divine. He couldn’t help but imagine sinking his teeth into her soft flesh. Her eyes would snap open, and oh, she would scream , but her parents wouldn’t hear. He would make sure of that. He would hold her down and suck the blood from her wounds while she screamed, still alive, still afraid. Yes, he would tear her apart slowly, little by little, piece by piece, milking as much of that delicious fear out of her feeble brain as he could before she died, alone and in agony. Only in the morning would her parents come and find what was left of their precious daughter. There would be no “Missing” signs for her. She would have a closed-casket funeral.

The visions flickered through Pennywise’s mind like broken neon lights, and for once, instead of all but forcing him to act upon his predatory urges, they made him sick. They made him sick because that was you lying there asleep, having a nightmare, scared and completely vulnerable.

And for some inexplicable reason, in spite of everything he was and was meant to be, he didn’t want anyone – not even himself – to hurt you.

He took one calculated step alongside your bed towards you, then another, as if one wrong move would be the one that snapped his resolve and resulted in your untimely demise. He had to bend at the waist to reach you. His hand was shaking as he stroked your cheek.

“Wake up, beautiful. It is only a nightmare. Wake up.” You awoke with a light gasp, eyes snapping open wide. Your eyes flashed with a sort of panicked relief when you saw your companion standing over you, and you sat up and through your arms around him. Your head barely reached his chest.

“Shh…” Pennywise smoothed your hair with one hand while the other came to rest on your back. Your grip around his waist was strong, and he felt a rush of undeserved pride.

You sniffed. 

“Why are you shaking?” Oh, what a good question, little one. How to answer? Honestly? Be honest and tell you that he was shaking from the sheer effort it took not to devour you? No. Instead, he told you, “I am upset that you are afraid.” It was not a lie. In fact, it was very much the truth. He hated that you were afraid, if only because it was next to impossible not to kill and eat you, and he knew he would regret that, later. He settled for tightening his grip on your delicate body and burying his nose in your hair to breathe in the scent.

You backed away, and he barely had the self-control to let you out of his grasp. You took his hand and looked up at him, eyes bright and pleading. 

“Will you stay with me?” He shouldn’t have, because you were never his to keep, but he knew in that moment that he couldn’t deny you anything. You needed him. And feeling needed felt surprisingly pleasant.

“What was your dream about?” he asked.

“It’s the same one I always have,” you explained. “There’s a monster, and I’m trying to get away, but it’s on top of me, and there’s blood…” You trailed off, gripping his hand a little harder.

He pulled you into his arms again. 

“That will never happen,” he said. “Not to you. You are mine, and I won’t let that happen.”

You smiled and murmured a sleepy “thank you,” already beginning to fall back asleep. You felt safe when Pennywise was with you, cuddling you like a teddy bear, having no idea what it was you trusted to hold you in your sleep.

 Now when you had nightmares there was no hand on your cheek, gently stroking your terrors away. There was no soft lilting voice whispering that it was just a nightmare, nor any cool arms to hold you and make you feel safe. It was just you and the increasingly empty expanse of your room, because as the years passed you’d found yourself hating all those familiar childhood things you did with pennywise, they only brought pain and bittersweet memories, even now, when you were sixteen years old and should long be over all those memories, anything that reminded you of him was still having to be thrown out.

Meanwhile your dad was only getting worse as the years went on. But as much as you were giving up hope that pennywise would ever ‘wake up’, you didn’t want to ruin the slim chance he truly intended to keep his promise and return, so you covered the bruises with makeup and put a smile on your face. You studied hard, you worked a part-time job at the movie theatre, you got a pet turtle, anything you could do to fill the empty void inside your soul that seemed to grow with each passing day you woke up alone...or well, not quite alone.

“Eleanore get yer ass down here and make breakfast,” Your legal name was Ellie, but apparently he didn’t care, he was gonna lengthen it out to sound fancy and intimidating. You wanted to shout back at him to stop being lazy and make his own breakfast, but you no longer had Penny to soothe your bruises and you’d already put on makeup for the day, so for the sake of everything you bit your lip and turned to your turtle's enclosure with a sad sigh.

“Have a good day Mister Turtle, let me know if you spy any red balloons will ya?” Red balloons and a daisy chain, the latter of which was probably long since wilted, were all you had for sure to recognize him by. After all, it had been eight years, surely he must look different now than you remembered him looking when you were a child.

You took the stairs two at a time as you hurried to make up for lost time, took your place at the stove, and started cooking. While cracking eggs in the pan a familliar memory clawed it’s way to the surface and you couldn’t help but smile.

 “Penny, dad’s not up yet and i’m hungry, can you make me food?” you had asked helplessly, back pressed against the wall with your head buried in your knees. Mom had passed away only two weeks ago, but life didn’t pause to give you and your dad time to mourn her, it kept moving on and you still had to live life. Of course, you could hardly blame your dad for wanting to lock himself away and not deal with life, but you hadn’t been taught how to care for youself yet and he was just tossing you to the wolves!

“I’ve never had to prepare my own food before….I tend to eat…..raw,” He confessed hesitently, on the one hand, wanting to laugh at his own joke, but on the other knowing it would ruin the illusion he was putting on for you. Still he wasn’t going to abandon you now, or worse, send you off to school hungry! So with a sigh he stood up and offered you his hand, causing you to look up at him quizzically.

“It sounds like you and I will have to learn together, whipping up a few eggs shouldn’t be hard, and should keep you until lunch right?” His offer was kind, and you could have weeped at such a gentle gesture. But you were running out of tears and didn’t want to make a fuss, so instead you just took his hand and the two of you went downstairs. Even at eight years old you were frustratingly short, but Penny was tall and happy to open the fridge and get eggs or find a chair for you to stand on. You watched hypnotized as the eggs which had looked disgusting before, meld into one big bubbling yellow goo that smelled delicious.

“I think it’s done, Penny! What do you think?” you ask excitedly, and slightly worriedly because you really should be going soon. Penny, who had strayed off looking (thirsting) after a couple of kids running towards school, made his way back to you and pressed a victorious kiss to your head.

“Looks good and smells good, great job beautiful!” he said happily. Penny, being an eldritch horror, knew nothing about how human meals were made. For goodness sakes he drank blood and ate flesh! The eggs smelled good, so he assumed that meant they were done, with no thought about how you ought to cook the other side too. As it was you scarfed down the eggs with a glass of milk, kissed him goodbye, and ran off to school.

At first your day was fine, you were proud of yourself for making breakfast, so was everyone you told, and other than your breath tasting a bit funny when you burped you felt fine. But as the hours creeped by till lunch you found yourself feeling less and less great. Then finally at eleven you bolted off to the bathroom and vomitted all the eggs up, alongside whatever remenants of the midnight snack penny had snuck you last night was left in your stomach. When the teachers found you like that they cleaned you up and sent you home for the day with food poisoning. You weren’t able to enjoy it, however, as you spent most of the day bent over the toilet, either dry heaving or throwing up what litle food you had managed to keep down in between ‘sessions’.

But all the while Pennywise was by your side, keeping your hair out of your face, wiping your brow, and apologizing profusely for ‘his’ stupid mistake. 

“Penny, it’s my fault too, and neither of us knew any better, I don’t love you any less,” you were beginning to notice that Penny had changed a lot since you met him two years ago, back then he was really reserved, and though silly, had never worried or fussed over you like he was doing now, and you’re not sure when it had started.

Just like he wasn’t sure when you had gone from an intriguing distraction to someone he loved.

“I love you too sweetheart, and papa is gonna take care of you until you’re all better,” he murmured as he settled down behind you, pulling you into his lap as he wiped your face clean and stroking your sweat-soaked hair while you rested against his chest.

 It should have been a terrible day to remember, but looking back, it always made you smile. You had been miserable and upset, but Pennywise was with you, he was always with you, and because of him the day still had some good points.

You weren’t sure if it was the wetness on your face or the alarm blaring that snapped you out of your daydreaming. But you wiped the tears and scraped the egg out onto a plate and put the plate on the table, the man could get his own damn silverware. While Penny had been caring for you like a father, he was locked up in his room drinking himself into a stupor, when Penny left and you cried for days, he beat you for being so annoying. The only reason you hadn’t run away was that you had promised Pennywise that you would wait for him here in Derry.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t still actively looking for that ‘moment’ Pennywise had whispered to you about on that warm summer afternoon. You had imagined several times about moments that could come up that you could take, like slipping some sleeping meds into his beer when you got it for him, or salting his movie popcorn with cyanide. You had never gone through with it though, for the same reasons you had never run away. You were too young back then, they would send you away to some orphanage and you wouldn’t be here for when Pennywise returned!

So instead you endured, every beating, every insult, you just reminded yourself of your reason for being here, that soon Pennywise would wrap you up in his arms, wash your bruises, bandage you up, and take you back to the flower fields where your biggest problem was running out of room on penny’s body to put a daisy chain. 

But today wasn’t that day, and you didn’t want to stick around and deal ith your father when he woke up, so you were skipping breakfast for the day, lunch was only a few hours away anyways, and thankfully you were never short on funds thanks to your part time job. So off you went into the cold, cruel world, the winter wind biting at your face. You didn’t want to be going out today, let alone to school or work, but it was part of the ‘mask’ you put on day to day. It kept anyone from paying you any mind. But today it felt like one thing after another was ruining your motivation to even bother getting to the bus stop. As if sensing your resolve flickering life set one more pebble onto the scale of your motivtion.

You looked up to find yourself on the corner of Neibolt Street and the wave of nostalgia hit you so hard you almost stumbled. As a child this had been your favorite place in the world, penny would take you here all the time to this old house everyone seemed to avoid like the plague, you never quite understood why though, even now. Sure it was a little run down and creaky, but the furniture was comfy and the house big…….perfect for the games of hide and seek you and penny would play together. You hadn’t stepped foot in the house since the day he left, while some memories were pleasant, the amount of memories in that single location threatened to overwhelm and break what little resolve you had to keep going on.

But as you stood there in indecision you felt a rush of wind as the bus trundled past and now you either had to run to get to the bus stop in time….or just casually turn the corner and fake sick for a day. The choice was made before you had the presence of mind to mentally sigh at the later consequences, you just wanted a day, a day to feel him again, to drown in that familiar warmth, and after that day, you would face whatever consequinces arose, not that you had much of a choice now, the school bus had long since picked up its passengers and trundled away, even if you changed your mind last minute, you’d be late and owe explanations.

So down the road you went, in the cold winter snows the daisies you were so familliar with laid dead and buried, but even from here you could see the house standing tall on it’s hill, the planters stuffed full with snow. Even while you and the rest of Derry seemed to grow and change, the house seemed so timeless, and as you opened the door and the scent of, what should be disgusting, mold and mildew hit you it felt like coming home. You could feel the old foundation creak and settle as you stepped up to the porch and pressed your forehead to the door, a familliar knot working it’s way up from your stomach into your throat.

“Hey Penny, you haven’t come over for awhile, so I came to play with you today,” you stated to the empty air, yanking the door open and stepping inside before you could back out of your decision. No one would look for you here, You would be safe for the day from the people outside, you could just...drown in your memories.

 “Ready or not, here I come!”

The house at 29 Neibolt Street was larger than it looked on the outside. Strange echoes cascaded down the staircases and along the halls, allowing any loud enough noise to fill the entire house. Such was the case for your bubbling laughter, brushing through the and dissipating in dark corners like clean water soaked up by a dingy sponge. Your little footsteps thumped against the wooden floors as you ran down the hall in search of your friend. Behind you, the hard tick of a grandfather clock. In front of you, the kitchen, where the ghostly tracks you made in the blanket of dust and grime on the floor would carry your memory for months.

Rats scurried away from you from and in every direction as you flung open the low cupboards one by one, squeaking their offense at your invasion of their privacy. In a few short years, the thought of wading on your hands and knees through dust and mouse shit would disgust you. At the time, at six years old, you barely noticed. You wiped the offending substances off on your coat and carried on.

The fridge, long unplugged and left to corrode, caught your eye. A flutter gripped your heart as you took the first step towards it, the residual voices that filled the house grew from a whisper to a roar in your ears as you took the second. Your stomach flipped when your hand settled over the handle. You held your breath as you threw open the door to reveal…grimy shelves, empty except for the inconsequential carcass of a bug your young mind could not identify. You closed the door.

Making your way back through the hallway, you were drawn to a door you had never been through before. An unexplored part of his house – the perfect place to hide!

The door, once opened, revealed a staircase that descended down into the Earth. You took each step carefully, gripping the splintered railing on your left that was almost as tall as you were. The hollow, wooden stairs snarled beneath you as you placed one foot, then the other on each one.

The lack of light shining through the milky windows near the ceiling reminded you how late it was getting, but it was okay. Your parents always told you never to go out at night without an adult, but Pennywise was an adult.

At that point, there had been an Amber Alert out for you for an hour.

In the basement, your game of Hide-and-Seek was forgotten, as your attention was captured by the ring of stone in the center of the floor. You approached at a casual pace, and when you reached the well, you got up on your tippy-toes to peer down into it. You couldn’t even see the bottom!

“Hello?” you called down.

“Hello? Hello? Hello?” your voice echoed back.

Your scream echoed just as loudly as two large hands grabbed your shoulders, yanking you back and spinning you around. You found yourself facing a very stern looking Pennywise, who bent at the waist to come closer to your eye level.

“Be careful with that, Ellie,” he warned. “We wouldn’t want you to fall, now would we?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I wasn’t going to fall!” you insisted. “I was just looking.”

“Insolent child,” he growled. “Do you not trust me to know what’s best for you?”

You didn’t like it when he got angry. He always made you feel bad, when he was angry.

You dropped your arms. “I trust you.”

“Welllll then...” A smooth grin stretched his lips. “I guess you found me. Now, it’s your turn to hide.” He tapped your nose with the tip of his finger on the word ‘your.’

“Close your eyes! No peeking!” you commanded, grinning back.

Pennywise made a show of tilting back up to his full height and covering his eyes with his gloved hands. “Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven…”

You ran as fast as your little legs could take you back up the stairs, then up another set. You could hear him nearing the end of his countdown – you could hear him no matter where you were in the house – as you dashed down a hallway. Your feet barely touched the floor.

You found yourself in a room that was empty except for a forest green armchair. The very last rays of sunlight from the day glowed through a mostly boarded up window.

“Ready or not, here I come!”

You looked around frantically and smiled to yourself when you saw a closet door resting halfway open. You hurried inside and closed the door, filling your eyes with soft, inky black. You couldn’t see a single thing.

You settled yourself down on the floor and listened for your friend’s approach, noticing perhaps for the first time all year that it was beginning to get very cold. Your winter coat was hardly enough to protect you from the bite. The stuffiness of the closet, holding in your body heat, was welcome.

You felt around the closet and curled up in the corner, leaning your head against the wall, putting up the hood of your coat to use as padding. You could hear the soft jingling of bells as Pennywise moved about the house, muttering the occasional, “Oh my, where could she be?” That made you smile and giggle to yourself.

You loved him, but even more than that, you trusted him. You were sparing a passing thought to how much you loved him when your world shifted.

Pennywise was sitting in the green armchair, cradling you like a baby. You looked around, confused.

“I found you,” Pennywise giggled, “all curled up and asleep in the closet.”

“Oh,” you murmured, upset that you had fallen asleep during your game but too comfortable and sleepy to pay much mind to any of your emotions. You looked towards the door. “I’m tired. We should go home.”

Pennywise pouted. “This is home. This is my home. We’re having a sleepover.”

You looked towards the door again, and you thought of your parents. You hadn’t told them you would be out all night, or out at all.

“Ah,” Pennywise said, reading your mind, “but you’re with an adult.”

You were so tired, you just wanted to go to sleep.

“I will keep you safe.”

You felt safe.

“Don’t you trust me, Ellie?”

You trusted him.

“Okay,” you agreed, yawning. “But I want to go to sleep now.”

Pennywise smiled. “Go to sleep, then.”

You snuggled into him, and he gently petted your hair.

“You are beautiful,” he said.

His mouth didn’t move when he said it, and you thought that was weird, but you were just too tired. You let your eyes close. There had been an Amber Alert out for you for two and a half hours.

You didn’t remember walking to the living room, or curling up in the old armchair. But by the time the memory cleared from your mind you were there, nose buried in the mattress like the scent wasn’t disgusting, instead, it just felt like you were home, like penny had you curled up in his arms and was stroking you, keeping all your fears and worries at bay, because you felt safe with him. And even when he wasn’t here, his memories with you were so strong in this house that you felt as though he were here.

[ofmikaelsonshope]

A dead husband, stone-cold no chances of coming back husband of three of her children. It felt worse this time seeing him dead on the ground because this time he wasn’t coming back to her, always and forever no longer is there and the ring on her finger right below a tattoo of her husband’s name wrapped around her finger mocks her every time she sees it in passing movements like opening a door for someone when they get home or grabbing water even. It’s nightfall by the time everyone gets back and it is giving Andi to her parents, expressed milk in the fridge and freezer for them to use and Addy curled into her side in a big bed that is too lonely for just her. Stomach hurting at first had been since the moment that her husband died but being so tired from a release of magic throughout the building had been another thing to make laying there and dozing in and out of sleep.

Two hours pass before she is pulling away from her daughter to make a beeline for the bathroom and finds herself once again on her knees in front of a porcelain bowl throwing up next to nothing, fingers grabbing fabric and ripping it straight open until her t-shirt is draping from her shoulders and she is quick to throw it toward a corner, head still hung over the bowl.

Cold fingers though are what catch her attention and when she looks to the side, she realizes that she isn’t alone in her now locked bathroom. “Seylah.” A sigh of relief, someone that would feel just as much pain as her right now and it is sick to feel relief over this. Over knowing Landon’s mother is going to hurt too.

“You are most likely hot,” Seylah tells her, the smell of cooper thick in the air already and it would only get worse, she can already guess that much. The fact she woke when this...teen or adult (time is a funny thing when you are dead) was ripping off her shirt. It’s a hand reaching over and flushing the toilet before reaching out and helping her son’s girlfriend into a better position on the floor. “Lift your hips...let’s take these jeans off. Should cool you for a second.” Hope groans, hips shifting up and she hissed and somewhere between the older phoenix pulling undoing the button and pulling the jeans down, it becomes clearer when she sees it, blood and she laughs hard because it must be an early period, hers had been late but she assumed it was stress of having a new baby that did it. “Must have forgotten about it this month...stress, you know?” Telling her wouldn’t help, letting it dawn on her would do better. It is quick thinking to discard the jeans, get two rags before sitting down next to her, back leaning against the tub, legs spreading a little. “Come,, lean into me.” Seylah motions for her to come on over. 

Hope does just that, finding comfort in the arms of the mother that gave birth to the best man she ever knew. It’s blue eyes closing and for a good ten minutes, she sits there staring at a wall, her mother-in-law’s fingers working out knots in her stomach so gently it is hard to believe that she has killed supernaturals just because of them being monsters. “Landon’s dead.” she whispers. “My husband is dead.” Seylah closes her eyes, body shaking and she is shocked that no scream comes out, just tears. Her son is dead and his...wife was having a baby, what she assumed was their first. Holding a killer in her arms, a monster like the ones she hunted for years and crying with her over the loss of someone great, someone that she hadn’t wanted to give up but did what was best. Triad would never tolerate her having a kid, not killing it the moment it was born based on the fact it was born from a pit of tar. How she had hated her child until she saw him and his heat so strong her skin was pink even though she didn’t feel it. It had been one of those things that started to feel more supernatural and not a gift. She used to think not feeling the heat of a stove was a gift but after holding her kid she realized it was a supernatural gift. Spending years hunting monsters only to find out you are one, Selyah laughed until she cried in an abandoned building, a newborn in her arms. 

Hope finds comfort in the phoenix’s body shaking, how cruel it is that she does and heat comes from the other’s skin until her skin is a shade of pink and she knows why even as she pulls away long enough to give the mother time to cool down. An hour passes of laying there, on the cool floor waiting before Seylah is pulling her into her arms again. It’s then, the tiredness of staying up that she falls asleep.

Seylah holds her, not feeling an ounce tired even when things got boring she stayed because she knew what would come and sure enough, maybe two hours after the other passed out, she is waking up, gasping for air as fingernails dig into the forearms of Seylah’s, wolf nails causing blood to spill onto the bathroom floor. It’s a piercing scream, one that hurts the phoenix’s ears.

Fire, a fire so strong that she is pulled under, the heat so bad that she swears she might die. Can you inhale smoke without actually being in a smokey room? Lungs burn, tries so hot they leave her skin red and blistered as they fall down her cheeks. Landon and she had spelled the room so no one could hear them after they discovered bathtubs are a lot of fun. 

Thirty minutes of pure torture, fighting every second because she is so alone without actually being alone that what could have taken five to ten minutes took a lot longer. Her breathing harsh and she cries until there is nothing left to cry for now, her body so weak. The moment it was passed, Seylah is putting the plug in the bath and helping her off with her clothes, Using her ability to turn things to ash with a lot of control to make the bloody clothes turn into just a mess to be swept up. Water cool to the couch when she helps her daughter in law into the water, watching as she sighs in relief. “My son is dead but that doesn’t mean you are alone....I’m not leaving you. You are family,” Seylah whispers out pushing a piece of hair out of the other’s face. “Just sit there in the tub and let me clean up in here. Do you have a little dustpan?”

Eyes closed, she manages to nod toward the sink. “Under the sink.” Silence in the air as she opens her eyes, letting the water out when it wasn’t cool anymore and starting all over (It happened fast given her body temperature was working its way back down). She’s pregnant...a widow...a mom of three going to be four all under the age of seven years old. Never once had she done a whole pregnancy without him, Addy came close but with Andi, he had been there the whole time and well, Ellie wasn’t biologically her child so she can’t compare there. “I’m pregnant...” and my husband never knew. God, she could have really dug into him about this being the second time they ended up Irish twining this, a joke now that she accepted Ellie as hers and watch him laugh. How he would have been excited and scared and all different emotions because it means she will die again.

“I know,” Seylah said from her position sweeping ash into the pan and throwing it into the little trash can beside the toilet. It’s then working on getting the blood cleaned up, the tribrid beside her using magic (clearly) to help bring the blood up easier. “We will get you all tucked into bed and tomorrow, we will deal with whatever comes out way.” After a long bath, Seylah helps a naked tribrid to her room, only to see two sleeping kids in the middle of a very large bed, must be a custom made one given it could most likely fit two kids and two adults in it. “Who are they?” “Adelina Hope Mikaelson-Kirby, Elizabeth Olive Mikaelson-Kirby,” Hope tells her finding clothes, looking at the clock and not surprised that in two hours the kids would be up wanting breakfast. “your grandkids.” 

[ text : Everyone: Hope’s phone ] –– so everyone Seylah is alive and well. [ text : Everyone: Hope’s phone ] –– if some strange lady is sitting at your table in the morning don’t shoot...or bite...It’s Landon’s mom [ text : Everyone: Hope’s phone ] –– She came back in the middle of the night. Not sure which kid did it.

“They are beautiful,” Seylah tells her. “Twins?” And she notes the baby crib across the room but when she goes to look in, she sees no little person in there. “So did you leave this up for decoration?”

Hope looks over her shoulder and laughs softly, “Uh, no...there is also, Andrea...Andrea Seylah Mikaelson-Kirby, she’s only a few months old. My parents took her for the night.” “See you and my son were very busy,” Seylah comments, not really thinking about it. twins, a baby that was new and one on the way, her son surely didn’t know how to work protection but she can’t fault him for that given he is dead and well if his wife allowed it isn’t something Seylah should stick her nose into.

Hope shakes her head. “Yeah, I guess...we kind of where.” But she gets the feeling that was a one-off comment with Seylah, never to speak about sex again aside from now.

“You should get some sleep,” Seylah tells her. “I will be up with the kids,...if you would allow?” 

Crawling into bed, her daughters scooting closer to her in bed, she finds herself warm again. “That would be nice....thank you..” It’s feeling the covers being pulled over her body and it is the last thing she actually remembers that that horrible day.

[insideoutstory]

Inside Out → Chapter Nine

summary: Christine spends an eye-opening day babysitting a fugitive. word count: 4.5k warnings: tooth-rotting fluff and girl time [ masterlist ]   [ FF.net ]

The journey to the Walcott house was, unsurprisingly, quiet. Christine walked alongside her bike, Eleven staying close to her on the other side. She always stayed on the curb-side. Every time a car passed, she would tense up and pull closer to Christine’s figure, trying to stay out of sight. It was concerning, to say the least. Christine was tempted to take her shortcut, just to get the girl off the streets, but they couldn’t risk walking through the playground this close to classes, especially if the girl was supposed to stay hidden. 

They hurried up the driveway and into the house, Christine locking the front door behind her. For a moment, they both stood there, waiting. Christine half-expected someone to kick her door down, demanding to know who this little girl was and trying to take her away. But nothing happened. They had not been followed. 

She glanced down, noticing the box of cereal she had abandoned on the floor. Sheepishly, she snatched it up. It was stupid to be embarrassed—especially when Eleven obviously had little to no concept of normality—but her presence was enough to make Christine nervous. 

She cleared her throat, looking down at the tiny girl in front of her. “Um…are you hungry?” 

Eleven did not meet her eyes, but timidly nodded. 

Christine beckoned her into the kitchen. Cups and mugs littered the counter where she’d left them in her search for the key to the liquor cabinet. Eleven looked at them curiously, her head cocked to the side like a small puppy. Christine hurriedly tried to stuff everything back in the cupboard. 

“Sorry, just uh…so! What do you want to eat? I’ve got some cereal, I can make eggs—pretty much only scrambled, though. Mike said you like waffles, right? I can’t make them from scratch, but I might have some in the freezer.” 

She glanced over her shoulder to find Eleven staring at her with rapt attention. Apparently “waffle” had been the buzzword to use. 

“Yeah? Toaster waffles are okay?” 

Eleven nodded. 

Christine smiled and patted the counter, gesturing for her to have a seat on the other side before she started on breakfast. She found an unopened box of Eggos in the freezer, and grabbed some eggs from the fridge as well. She could at least pretend it was a balanced meal. She wasn’t sure what Eleven might want to drink, and she doubted that asking her would yield any real results. So she just grabbed a bunch of things out of the fridge and laid them on the counter. If she was thirsty, she could help herself. 

It didn’t take long to cook the eggs, and the waffles were done in a matter of minutes. Christine split them two and two, and dropped them onto some plates. She pushed one toward Eleven and turned back to the stove. 

“Okay, eggs are almost up. We’ve got salt, pepper, ketchup if you like that sort of thing. Oh! And syrup, let me get you some syrup. Here you…” 

She trailed off, the bottle of syrup dangling from her fingers. Eleven froze and stared back at her. One of the waffles was already gone, the second paused halfway to her mouth. Maintaining eye contact, she slowly put it back down on her plate. 

“Um…right. Okay.” Christine picked up her plate, sliding her waffles on top of Eleven’s. “Go crazy, kid.” 

The girl did not respond, and did not move until Christine’s back was turned once more. 

Christine made two more waffles for herself and finished the eggs. Eleven wrinkled her nose when Christine spooned some onto her plate, snatching up her stack of Eggos like she was afraid of contamination. Christine ignored her distaste. 

She leaned on the counter across from Eleven, digging into her own food. It was difficult to ignore the feeling of being watched, studied. But she did her best not to acknowledge it. She focused on her plate—systematically seasoning her eggs, cutting up her waffles, and then pouring syrup on top. 

“You wanna try?” she asked, offering the bottle. 

Eleven almost seemed offended. She clutched her plain waffles to her chest. 

“Suit yourself.” 

They ate in silence. Eleven had slowed down a bit, nibbling on each waffle rather than scarfing them down like a race. Still, she refused to touch her eggs. Christine wasn’t too bothered. She simply ate her meal and dropped her dish in the sink. She moved the drinks back to the fridge, locked up the liquor cabinet, then turned back to her guest. 

“You can just put your plate over here when you’re done,” she said, patting the countertop. “TV’s in the living room, snacks are in this cupboard over here. I’m gonna go take a shower, so…just make yourself at home, I guess.” 

She smiled, and walked down the hallway to her bedroom. 

Normally, she wouldn’t have considered leaving a strange child alone in her house. But Christine was still wearing her tee and overalls from the night before. She might have brushed her teeth, but her sickness was still clinging to her like a fine film. And now that the shock of her neighbor’s kid harboring some kind of fugitive had worn off, her nausea was starting to make a reappearance. 

She grabbed a change of clothes—just some sweats and a T-shirt—and headed for the bathroom. But she stopped short, letting out a small yelp. 

Eleven was standing in the doorway, watching her blankly. 

“Uh, hey. Is something wrong?” 

She wasn’t exactly surprised by Eleven’s silence, but the lack of response was becoming frustrating. It was like talking to a very timid brick wall. 

Christine sighed, stepping around the girl and starting down the hall. She could hear Eleven shuffling behind her. She stopped just outside the bathroom. Eleven stopped too. 

“Look. I can set you up with a movie or something if you want, but taking a shower is something people usually do alone.” 

“Alone. Bad.” 

Christine turned around in surprise. Eleven had her hands clenched in front of her, her shoulders hunched over to make her seem as small as possible. Upon closer inspection, her expression wasn’t blank so much as it was earnest. She was nervous, terrified of whatever it was she thought was waiting for her beyond the walls. When Christine thought about it, the girl probably hadn’t been alone since Mike took her in. The last time she had been, she’d been out in the woods, running away from…something. 

Christine withered. “Okay. Come on.” 

Eleven followed her into the bathroom, taking a seat on the toilet when Christine patted the lid. Christine put her fresh clothes up next to the sink, and then stepped into the bathtub. She turned to face Eleven, pulling the shower curtain closed. 

“So I’m gonna turn the water on, and I’ll be right behind this, okay? It’s only going to be for a few minutes. And if you need anything, I’ll be right here. Is that better?” 

She peeked out from behind the curtain, and Eleven nodded. 

It wasn’t nearly ask awkward as she’d expected. Christine simply dropped her clothes on the other side of the curtain and carried on as usual. It felt good to wash her hair, scrub the drowsiness off her skin—even if the hot water wasn’t doing much for her head. Eleven was so quiet, it was easy to forget she was there. There was only one time Christine remembered she had an audience. 

She was combing her conditioner through her hair, humming to herself as she went. It wasn’t something she was conscious of. She was always humming something or other. But then she stopped—and the sound did not. 

Christine paused, her eyes fluttering open. But the noise was gone. She started again, a bit softer this time. After a few seconds, it started again. She had to strain to hear it, but there was a faint, timid echo on the other side of the curtain. The notes were not the same, and the tune was almost clumsy, but it was definitely there. An experimental hum, testing out a song. 

She grinned, and hummed a little louder. 

Twenty minutes later, Christine stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel. A small giggle caught her off guard, and her head snapped toward Eleven. Impossibly, the girl was hiding a smile. 

“What?” Christine asked. 

She followed Eleven’s eyes, reaching up to pat the towel that was twisted on top of her head. Just that seemed to be amusing, and Eleven pressed her thin lips into a tight line. 

“Oh, you think I look funny, huh? Well…you look funny.” 

Christine stuck her tongue out, which did not seem to register as an appropriate response. Eleven stared at her, brow furrowed, and she sighed. 

“Never mind. Sorry. It just means that you’re being silly.” 

Eleven blinked. Uncertainly, she opened her mouth, letting her tongue hang out limply. It looked more like she was waiting for the doctor to stick her with a tongue depressor than making fun of someone—but the intent was clearly there. 

Christine grinned. “Yeah, I guess I am. Fair enough.” 

They left the bathroom, Eleven following more closely this time than she had before. Christine figured that was probably a good sign. She was getting comfortable. Still, it made it a bit awkward when she had to stop in front of her room, towel still wrapped tightly around her body and clothes in hand. 

“Hey, could you just wait here for a second?” she asked, looking down at her. “I just need to—not alone just uh…privacy?” 

To her surprise, Eleven’s eyes lit up in understanding. She took a step away, and turned her back to the room. 

Relieved, Christine changed into her fresh clothes. She called out when it was safe to reenter the room, toweling off her hair. 

Eleven walked cautiously into the bedroom, her eyes wide and bright once more. Her curiosity was fascinating to Christine. She didn’t think her room was anything special. It certainly wasn’t as nice or pretty as Nancy’s was anyway, with its pastel stripes and delicate furniture. Christine’s walls were just beige, her carpet just green. Her closet doors were slotted wood, just like her bedframe, just like her desk, just like her dresser. None of the wood really matched. 

Her desk was covered in books and paper. Homework, old receipts, the remnants of Will’s missing posters. She’d plastered more paper over her walls, mostly movie posters she’d stolen since she started working at The Hawk. She had Indiana Jones, Poltergeist, Empire Strikes Back, and a few others. And just over her desk was her corkboard, where everything from pictures to science fair ribbons to ticket stubs was tacked up in disarray. 

Eleven moved around the room, inspecting each thing in turn. She looked through all the necklaces and scrunchies strewn across the top of the dresser. She studied the phone on the bedside table, tugging on the cord and jumping a bit when it bounced back. She ran her hand over the unmade bed, feeling the texture of the blankets. 

Christine draped her towel over the bedpost, and watched as Eleven stopped in front of the desk. She stared up at the board, silent for several minutes. Slowly, she raised a hand, and jabbed a finger at one of the photos. 

“What’s up?” Christine peered over her head. “Oh yeah, that’s Dustin. That was a few summers ago. We went to the carnival.” 

It was a good picture of them. Christine and Dustin sat at a picnic table, pigging out on a bag of cotton candy. Mr. Henderson had been visiting for the weekend, and insisted on going as a family. Dustin had dragged his feet, knowing his parents would be arguing the whole night. So Claudia had invited Christine and her dad to join them. She’d been sick all night from the sugar, but it had been worth it to see Dustin so off-the-walls happy. And to listen to him scream in terror when she dragged him on the Rok N’ Rol. He still hadn’t forgiven her for that. 

“Friend?” asked Eleven. 

“Yeah, totally. Though sometimes he feels more like my annoying little brother.” Eleven turned to look at her, and Christine backpedaled. “Um…you know, brother? Sister? Sibling? Someone who has the same parents as you. Your family.” 

Eleven’s gaze dropped to the floor before she turned back to the board. 

Christine watched her carefully, not at all sure of her next question. “Do you have any? Family?” 

“Papa.” 

The word didn’t seem to offer her any comfort. Eleven said it with more respect than fondness. 

“Me too,” said Christine. “I mean, it’s just me and my dad. He’s at work most of the time, but it’s not so bad now that we’re not moving every few months. He’s a consultant. So we used to travel around helping different companies. It was fun for a while, but…well. It’s not easy making friends when you only stick around for a couple months. 

“Now he’s the head of some HR department in the city. I get to stay in one school, and he still gets to travel a couple times a year for business trips. See? This is him.” 

She pulled another photo off of the board, handing it to Eleven so she could take a closer look. 

This was an old picture, six or seven years at least. They’d been living in California, and close enough to the coast that she could go to the beach whenever she wanted. In the photo she was perched on top of her father’s shoulders. Her hair was stringy from the salt water, and she had to squint in the bright afternoon sun. Both of them had pink cheeks, the start of a sunburn that would ache for days, but they were still beaming. 

Eleven ran her fingers over the younger Christine’s face, her own lips pulling into a smile. 

“Happy.” 

Christine’s stomach flopped. It was the way she’d said the word—as if it were more of a myth than an emotion. And as Christine looked at her—the thin frame, the sheared hair, the bags underneath her eyes, and still that small smile—she wondered if Mike was so crazy for wanting to protect her after all. 

“Alright.” She sighed, taking the picture from Eleven’s hands and tacking it up on the board. “You leave me with no choice. You can have one more waffle, but that is it. After that, you’re going to sit on the couch and mindlessly watch TV like a normal child, and I’m going to do my homework. I’m gonna be so behind from skipping today, it’s ridiculous.” 

She herded Eleven out of the room, taking the chance to brush her fingers along the girl’s back. Still, her smile never faltered. Christine marked that down as a win. 

They sat down for second breakfast. Eleven had two more Eggos, while Christine finished the eggs that had gone untouched. Then they moved into the living room. Christine set Eleven up on the couch in front of the television, complete with popcorn and a blanket. She was riveted by the remote control, which took several minutes to explain to her. 

Once she’d gotten a handle on which buttons changed the picture and which ones changed the sound, Christine let her be. She dragged her dinner table over to the armchair and began pulling out her homework. She’d been so sulky the day before that she hadn’t done any of her assignments, and she would be missing a bunch in class. She figured she would just tell everyone she was sick. It wasn’t exactly a lie, she thought as her stomach writhed again. 

The television did a pretty good job of keeping Eleven occupied—but only for a few hours. Soon her eyes began to stray from the screen, taking note of everything else in the room. She wouldn’t get up from her seat, but Christine caught her eyeing the stereo cabinet with increasing interest. 

“You can look, you know.” Her voice made Eleven’s head whip around, and Christine offered an encouraging smile. “El, you don’t have to stay on the couch. So long as you don’t pull any of my tapes apart, we’ll be okay.” 

Eleven slowly got up from her seat. Her eyes stayed glued to Christine, as if she were worried she might change her mind at any moment. But Christine just nodded. 

Eventually, Eleven eased into a meticulous circle of the room, just like she had in the bedroom. She pressed a few buttons on the stereo experimentally. However, the system wasn’t on, so this had limited effect. Still, Eleven seemed happy just pushing them, and looking through the large collection of cassettes. She held them up to the light, studying them, winding the delicate wheels. But she never pulled on the tape, thank God. 

When she tired of the stereo, she moved onto the rest of the room—the few magazines scattered on the table, the VHS tapes under the television, the knick-knacks and framed pictures on side tables. And though Christine kept a weather eye on her, most of Eleven’s exploring seemed completely benign. 

They sat this way for the rest of the day, only breaking for the bathroom or the occasional snack. Christine made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, which she hadn’t really expected Eleven to eat. To her surprise, the girl devoured it, keeping her pace just slow enough to avoid being alarming. 

A little after two o’clock, the phone rang in the kitchen. The sound was jarring in the quiet afternoon, and Eleven jumped about a foot from her seat on the floor. 

“It’s alright,” Christine said quickly, holding up her hands. “It’s just the phone. I’m gonna go answer it, alright?” 

Eleven nodded, still looking shaken, but leaning against the couch once more. 

Christine grabbed the television remote, lowering the volume before she rushed to the phone. She was more focused on stopping the noise than anything else, and peeked around the corner into the living room as she picked up the receiver. 

“Hello?” 

“Chrissy? Hey, it’s Nancy.” 

Her attention shot to the phone. That had not at all been what she was expecting. 

“Oh, uh…hey, Nance. What’s up?” 

“Nothing, I just—Well, you didn’t come to school, so…I was worried.” 

“Yeah. Guess I wasn’t really feeling it.” 

“Right.” There was a heavy pause, and Nancy cleared her throat. “Is Barb there with you?” 

“No? I thought she was with you?” 

“No. She didn’t show up for school either. I just thought…” 

There was something about Nancy’s voice that kept Christine from immediately snapping at her. It was weak, wavering. It almost sounded like she was on the verge of tears. 

“You haven’t talked to her?” Nancy asked, almost pleading. “Since last night?” 

“No, I told you. I called her house this morning, and her mom said she stayed with you. I figured since I hadn’t seen her, that was probably the best bet.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Christine clenched her jaw, tightening her grip on the handset. 

“Look, Nancy. I woke up this morning, and everyone was just gone, and I was alone on Steve Harrington’s couch. So yes. I’m pretty sure I didn’t see her. Maybe she went to the hospital, considering her hand was sliced open like a ham.” 

That did not earn an immediate response. Christine pursed her lips in satisfaction. 

A sound caught her attention from the other room, and she peered around the corner again to check on Eleven. She was still sitting on the floor, staring at the television, but the screen was now full of static. Christine furrowed her brow, but before she could think of an explanation, the picture came back. A cartoon rolled on the screen. It clicked. Now the news was playing. Click. Now an infomercial. Click. A soda commercial. 

Christine looked down at the remote in her hand, and then to Eleven, still sitting six feet away from the screen. 

“Christine, about last night…” 

“Hey, Nancy, I’m actually in the middle of something right now. I’ll call you if I hear from Barb, okay?” 

She hung up the phone, staring into the living room. The television was still flickering, pausing on certain channels before deciding to scroll on. Eleven was staring at the screen unfazed, not looking the least bit bothered by the interference. 

Christine took a few cautious steps into the room, not wanting to alarm her. 

“Eleven?” 

The television immediately turned off. Eleven whirled around, staring at Christine with wide eyes. Christine had never seen an expression worthier of the description “deer in the headlights.” And in that instant, she decided not to acknowledge it. 

“Sorry about the TV.” Christine paced around the couch, placing the remote on top of the television. She smacked it weakly. “It’s been a little out of whack this week. All the electric has. Do you want me to try and put it back on?” 

Eleven quickly shook her head. It was then that Christine noticed the blood dripping from her nose. 

“Oh, you’re…hang on.” 

Christine hurried back to the kitchen. She grabbed a few paper towels, hurriedly running them under the sink and darting back into the living room. She forced herself to slow down as she kneeled down next to Eleven, not wanting to frighten her further. 

“Can I…?” 

She gestured to Eleven’s face with the cloth. She half expected the girl to say no, but Eleven nodded instead. Christine placed a gentle hand on her chin. Lightly as she could, she nudged her face toward her, wiping the blood from her upper lip. 

There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask. Are you alright? Does this happen often? Is it because of the weather or do you actually have telekinetic superpowers like the weird boys I babysit are insisting? She didn’t ask any of them. 

“There we go,” she said, tossing the paper towel into the trash. “Much better.” 

Eleven was still staring at her. From what she could see, the terror was gone from her eyes. She’d gone back to the lingering, probing gaze, the one that made Christine feel as though she was being slowly analyzed from the inside out. It was so intense that Christine had to turn away. Still, she could feel the look burning her skin. 

“So, uh…do you want anything to drink?” 

“No.” 

“Okay. Do you want to lie down? Sleep for a bit?” 

“No.” 

Christine bobbed her head. “Alright. Well, if the TV’s out, we can always listen to some music.” 

She got to her feet, heading for the stereo and flicking it to life. She sifted through the cassettes, trying to find something particularly special. Her eyes lit up as she selected one, and slotted it into the machine. 

“Okay, this one is my absolute favorite. Every single song on here is golden. I really need to get another copy soon, or I’m gonna wear the tape out.” 

She turned the volume down before the tape could start, ensuring that it couldn’t startle Eleven. Then she slowly turned it up as the plucking bass to “Movin’ Out” by Billy Joel swelled through the living room. 

Christine bopped slowly to the beat, letting her chin fall forward as she rocked her head back and forth. She swayed on the spot, and closed her eyes to sing the along to the hums and riffs at the opening. Spinning around in circles, she peeked over at the couch to find Eleven watching her in undisguised puzzlement. 

“What?” Christine giggled, bouncing on the spot. “You don’t listen to music?” 

Eleven shook her head, eyeing Christine with something between amusement and concern. 

“Okaaay. What about dancing?” 

She spun on the spot, throwing her arms up and tossing her head back dramatically. That got her a tiny giggle, and Eleven shook her head again. 

“Wow. Well I love music. And I love to dance. And if no one’s around, sometimes I even sing—and it seems such a waste of time! If that’s what it’s all about! Momma if that’s moving up than ahhh…’m movin’ out!” 

Christine sank passionately to her knees, miming the horns in the song and making Eleven giggle again. She grinned, only for Eleven to stick out her tongue again. Christine’s jaw dropped comically and she laughed, rolling onto her butt and pushing the hair out of her face. 

“Alright, fair enough. Enough silliness. Do you want me to turn it off?” 

Eleven thought about it. She tugged her legs closer to her body, and shook her head. Christine didn’t want to admit it, but it made her heart swell with pride. 

“You’ve got good taste, kid. I’ll give you that.” 

She turned the stereo down just a bit, and returned to the homework in her armchair. She was all the more reluctant now to focus on history dates and the plights of Rosasharn in in the West, but she did her best. Still, every few seconds she would look up to check on El. 

Ever so slowly, the girl had migrated to sit next to the stereo. She seemed entranced by the spinning wheels of the cassette player, and stared at them through entire songs. She jumped at the sound the tape made when it stopped, and Christine talked her through what buttons to press to eject the tape and flip it. When side B started, she went right back to staring at the wheels and humming along under her breath. 

But there was more than music weighing on Christine’s mind. She sat back in her armchair, watching the small girl bouncing happily in the corner. She was at peace now, but when the television had turned off, she’d seemed properly scared. And not of the television set, but of Christine’s reaction. 

Christine shut down the trail of thinking before she could even get started. The electricity had been acting up all week. That hadn’t been a lie. Faulty power lines and signal interference were much more plausible than…what? Superpowers? 

At the same time, she couldn’t deny that El seemed to have…something. Certainly something that made her valuable to the people who were looking for her. Whether that was information or abilities or property, Christine couldn’t be sure. And if that was true, how much of the rest was? They boys seemed willing to bet a lot on Eleven—that she had powers, that she knew where Will was, that she could find him. And here was Christine, sitting in front of her unfinished English assignment. 

She glanced over at Eleven again, now swaying to the tune of “She’s Always A Woman.” Christine wasn’t sure how her day had gone from waking up at a boy’s house to babysitting an ability-enhanced fugitive. But she was pretty sure it was not about to start making sense any time soon.