Obsessed with the idea that the first person Billy saw at Hawkin's High School when he pulled up on his first day was Eddie Munson smoking behind his van.
Billy didn't expect to see anyone flagging in the middle of fucking nowhere, Indiana, but there he was - black bandana in his back left pocket for everyone to see. Billy thought he was nice to look at from behind, all tall and wiry with his crazy curls and tattoos. Then the dude turned around and Billy saw he was wearing a Metallica shirt - a true, California's own, bay area thrash metal band. The dude took one look at Billy getting out of his Camaro, all denim wrapped and hard edges while Exodus blared through his speakers, and he smirked. Billy was immediately intrigued.
Later that day, he heard that 'Munson' had the best weed in town -- and when he discovered that 'Munson' was, in fact, the same dude as outside that morning he knew he was in trouble. Absolutely fucked.
TITLE: slight change of plans
WORD COUNT: 3.6k
SUMMARY: you've always kind of known you and Joe would have kids together, but now it's starting to seem like a reality...
WARNINGS: soft boi joe. lots of talk of children, smut, dirty talk, breeding kink
NOTES: thank you to my friend who read this and helped with a title. not sure who the divider belongs to, i've had it saved for years but if there's someone i can credit let me know.
please remember that I appreciate your likes endlessly, but comments and reblogs mean the world to a writer.
You’ve got an unspoken rule with Joe in the flat that you share, because there’s only the two of you then you should wash up any plates, dishes, etc that you use and not leave them to build up to the point you have to use the dishwasher. Especially as a lot of the time you’re alone in the flat because he’s away anyway.
This is an unspoken rule that you’re strongly rethinking right about now, as you stand next to Joe with a dish towel in your hand and he hands you just about every pot and pan that the two of you own as he chatters at you about some football nonsense that you’re pretending to pay attention to, but truthfully you’re just enjoying having the timbre of his voice back in the flat.
It gets lonely when he’s not there.
And he’s been away for weeks this time, out of the country filming a drama movie about a single mother. You’ve teased him about it of course, calling it ‘Baby’s First RomCom’ but he keeps telling you you’ll understand when you get to see it. He hands you yet another pan and you want to sigh, but you hold it in.
You don’t want to make him think you’re upset with him, because you’re not, not really. He’d finished filming two days ago and instead of staying in the hotel another night he’d pretty much got on a plane the same night. To say he was exhausted when he arrived home in the early hours of yesterday morning was an understatement, but he’d had a good nights sleep in his own bed.
Today has been another chill day and he’d slept in late again, got up and gone for a run, came home and told you he was taking a bath (in which he’d used one of your bath bombs without asking, he hadn’t told you but the scent wafting from the bathroom during his bath and the slight shimmer of glitter on his skin when he came out was a dead giveway. Either that he was cosplaying Edward Cullen) and then spent a good couple of hours post-bath padding around the flat in just his boxers, mumbling about movies he wanted to watch and demanding cuddles.
Which had led you to now, standing in the kitchen doing the dishes after a couple of hours ago when he’d said he wanted to cook tonight, because he’d missed being able to cook. And so he’d gotten dressed, the two of you had walked to your local Tesco and he’d picked out the ingredients for the dish that he wanted to make. That he then came home and made, using just about every fucking pan, dish and utensil in the flat.
It had been a good meal though.
He’s telling you all about the experience he had on his latest film as you’re cleaning together and though you are sort of internally complaining to yourself about how much you have to dry after him, the whole thing does feel very domestic and you absolutely love feeling domestic with him.
Plus, the person who cooked is normally not the one to also do the washing-up, so he’s being a gentleman by doing that.
“...And the little girl who plays Ivy is so sweet, she adapted to me almost as quickly as her character did to mine. Every morning when she came on set, she ran straight over for a cuddle.” He gushes. You’d been sent quite a few selfies of him cuddling this adorable little girl, who was apparently also a good little actress at the age of 5. “I wonder if she misses me?”
“I’m sure she does,” you put down the tea towel and rub his back gently. “She probably got used to seeing you every day, you’ve got her Dad’s number though right? Maybe text him tomorrow and see how she’s doing, you did promise to stay in touch…” you muse.
“Yeah,” he nods and hands you the last of the plates to dry. He’s silent for a second as he pulls the plug, letting the soapy water drain out. “I hope our kids are as sweet as she is.”
You almost drop the plate.
Well, that had taken you by surprise! You and Joe hadn’t really… discussed children. You’d both been open about wanting them when you’d gotten together, so it was almost a given that the two of you would have children, but right now with his schedule so busy it’s not something you’d contemplated would be happening any time soon. So yeah, that statement took you by surprise.
If he’s noticed that it took you by surprise, Joe doesn’t let on though, he just watches you finish drying off the plate and put it in the cupboard. “Let’s go watch a film?”
You nod and he wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to your head as he leads you into the living room. And then he says, for what feels like the millionth time since he’s been back, “I missed you so much.”
A few days later you’re in Tesco with Joe doing the big shop, though you’re not quite sure where he’s disappeared off too… you’d left him a few minutes ago dithering over which spices would go best with a recipe that his mother had sent him to go and look at other food as he was taking so long. And he was still taking long, so you’d swung by the spice section again only to find him and his baseball hat no longer there.
You turn around and push your trolley back in the direction you’d come from, assuming you’d managed to miss him someway along the way, looking down aisles for him as your trolley rattles.
And then you spot the familiar baseball cap down one of the aisles and so you go to retrieve your boyfriend.
He’s somehow ended up in the clothing section.
More specifically the baby clothing section.
He’s looking at a tiny pair of white trainers, not unlike the ones he’s wearing himself. You kind of don’t want to disturb him as you watch him turning them over in his hands, examining them before putting them back and turning slightly. He looks a little bit surprised to see you there.
“Did you get lost?”
“Sort of,” he mumbles sheepishly and wonders back over to you and the trolley. “I was looking for you and I walked past the display and remembered Hugo’s birthday is coming up and so I got a little bit distracted.”
He’s a lying liar who lies, but you opt not to call him out on it. The pair of you are Godparents to Hugo, the son of one of his friends and his birthday isn’t for another 7 months.
“Oh.” You tell him. “Right.”
You also opt not to tell him the trainers he was looking at were in the girl section.
“Can we get some chocolate?” He asks you, his own chocolate eyes boring into you.
You laugh. “You are literally in your 30s, you don’t need my permission.”
He takes control of the trolley, pushing it for you, taking the pair of you in the direction of the confectionary aisle.
You can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that head of his.
Joe runs ahead of you, you’ve been running together for a long time but now that he spends so much time in the gym due to an ongoing role in a franchise he’s playing, sometimes he ends up in front of you. Today is one of those days, you don’t mind too much because you’ve both got your headphones in listening to different playlists anyway but there’s something comforting about running alongside your partner.
And then Joe stops abruptly in front of you and bends down, at first you think his lace has come undone.
And then you see there’s a crying child in front him.
You pause your music and jog to catch up with them. “Everything okay?”
The little boy in front of the pair of you continues to sob. He’s not speaking, just looking at Joe with eyes full of tears, a wobbly lip and a runny nose. “I think he’s lost,” Joe tells you. “Are you lost?” he says in a soft voice that makes your heart throb. “Do you have a tissue?” He turns to you.
You fish about in the pockets of your shorts, you’re always stuffing all sorts into them so it comes to no surprise when you find a crumpled -- but clean -- tissue and hand it over to Joe who is now on his knees in front of the little boy, knees straight on the gravelly path but it doesn’t seem to worry him. “Can I wipe your nose?” He asks in the soft voice.
The little boy again doesn’t speak, he eyes Joe as if he’s trying to decide whether or not to trust this stranger and then he nods. Joe gently rubs his nose, wiping away the snot. The boy has calmed down a little bit now, his eyes are still red and tear streaked but no more tears seem to be coming right now. “That’s better, isn’t it? Can you tell me your name?”
The little boy looks at the pair of you hesitantly and you smile slightly as you realise. “Did Mummy tell you not to talk to strangers?” you ask. And he nods. You tell him your name and tell him Joe’s name too, but he still seems hesitant to speak. Which is great, because it means that his parents taught him well but is also kind of annoying because how are you going to help him find his parent or guardian if he won’t tell you which part of the park he wondered off from.
Joe stands up and brushes off his knees. He looks down at the little boy. “Are you lost?” He repeats. This time the little boy nods and Joe holds his hand out to him, still keeping his voice slow and soothing. “We’ll help you look, don’t worry.” And to your surprise, the little boy obviously feels safe around him because he takes the little boy’s hand and the two of them walk slowly, with you following along beside them. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s okay… but if you see Mummy or Daddy or whoever you’re with, then point okay?”
“Okay,” a sweet little voice says.
Joe seems to have this under control so you don’t really want to interupt and so you just walk along close by, watching as the little boy holds onto his hand. Joe talks to him the entire time in a low, comforting voice. He’s so natural around kids and you can’t help but think back to the other night, to the off-handed remark about ‘I hope our kids are as sweet as she is’ and you honestly can’t wait to have kids with him.
And then it hits you like a ton of bricks.
You can’t wait to have kids with him.
You’re ready to have kids with him.
And you think, from recent behaviour, he moght just be ready to have kids with you too.
“Charlie!” You hear a voice call out and see a frazzled looking woman running towards Joe, the little boy and yourself and the little boy immeadiately lets go of Joe’s hand and meets the woman halfway, holding his little arms out to her. “Mama!” he cries out, cuddling into the woman who sweeps him up. “I got losted!”
“You wandered off!” the woman scolds him lightly as she clings onto him and presses a kiss against his cheek. “Don’t do that again.” The woman looks up at you and Joe warily.
“They helped me!” Charlie tells his mother with a grin. “The nice man and the lady!”
You try not to take offense at the fact Joe is the ‘nice man’ and you’re just ‘the lady’.
Charlie’s mother carries him over to the pair of you. “Thank you for helping my silly boy,” say says gently. “I’d hate to think what would have happened to him if someone with… not so good intentions had found him.”
“You’re welcome,” Joe says with a toothy smile. He reaches out and ruffles Charlie’s hair making the little boy laugh a lot. “Don’t go running off again, alright? Stay by your Mama.”
Charlie nods.
“What do you say to the nice man and the lady?” Charlie’s mother asks and again, you try not to take offense that you’re just ‘the lady’, but you’ll admit Joe did the bulk of looking after Charlie and searching for his mother.
“Thank you!” Charlie tells you both, waving as his mother thanks you again and starts to walk away with the little boy in her arms, still lightly scolding him. You hear her remind him not to talk to strangers and you also hear Charlie’s response of ‘I didn’t speak to them!’ and it makes you smile.
Joe lets out a breath. “Shall we head back? I think that’s enough excitement for one run.”
“Yeah,” you agree. “Lets head back.”
You’re quiet on the walk back, your brain working overtime as you wonder how to broach the subject of a baby with him.
“Shhh,” Joe mumbles as you try and hold in relentless giggles, but it’s very hard to keep your giggles in when his mouth is on your neck, pressing kisses into as you try and open the door to the flat. “You’ll wake everyone up.”
The pair of you had spent the evening at the birthday party of a friend of Joe’s, eating great food, drinking maybe a little bit too much and pretending not to notice Joe’s brand of dancing (which was very ‘drunk Uncle’). It’s the early hours of the morning and the pair of you managed to get onto the tube and get yourselves home.
You’re not drunk, just tipsy.
But tipsy Joe is touchy.
Tipsy Joe is horny.
You manage to get away from his arms and into the flat, shutting the door quietly behind the pair of you and kicking off your heels at the door. You’ll deal with them in the morning, likewise you’ll deal with the statement earrings you slip out of your ears and drop into the bowl with the keys in it by the door.
“Time to get ready for bed?” You ask Joe, a teasing edge to your voice as you turn and walk towards the bathroom.
“Bed.” Is Joe’s growled response as he follows you, sweeping you up in his arms, his lips finding your neck again, making you giggle relentless as he carries you to the bedroom and drops you down onto the bed. You keep eye contact with him as you slip out of your outfit, shoving it off the bed into a crumple on the floor -- again, you’ll deal with that in the morning.
He growls again, drinking in the sight of you, just in your underwear now on the bed. His clothes join yours in the crumple on the floor, leaving him in just his boxers. He joins you on the bed, you slide your arms around him and lean up into a kiss. “I’ve wanted you all evening,” he murmurs as he pulls his lips away from yours, pressing a line of kisses down your neck and shoulders and gently undoing your bra and adding it to the crumple of clothes on the floor.
“You’ve had me all evening,” you tell him. “I’m always yours to take.” You can feel how hard he is against your leg, so torturing him tonight doesn’t seem like a fair option.
Some kisses and shuffling and he’s buried inside you to the hilt with a groan, you close your eyes, take in the feeling.
You’ll never, ever get sick of how good he feels inside of you.
Especially when he’s bare.
Bare.
He’s bare.
He’s not supposed to be bare.
When your IUD had needed removing, you’d decided not to get it replaced because it wasn’t for you and you’d agreed between you that your birth control of choice would be condoms. But things tonight have progressed so far, neither of you had thought about it.
Joe groans again, thrusting into you and your eyes snap out.
“What’s wrong?” He immeadiately know something is wrong and stops.
But… even though you hadn’t found time to have the talk with him yet… you kind of don’t want him to stop, to pull out and get a condom on. You like feeling him bare like this. “You’re not wearing a condom…”
“Oh,” Joe mumbles. “Shit… should I…?” You can tell from the tone of his voice that he doesn’t want to stop.
And so you answer him by wrapping your legs around his back, holding him in place.
He presses a kiss into your shoulder. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” you decide maybe one tease is okay. “…Don’t you think I’d look cute with my belly all swollen with your baby?”
Holy fucking shit. Well, that unlocked something in him. He immeadiately starts thrusting back into you, hard and powerful. “Yeah,” he growls. “Yeah you fucking would.” He leans down and kisses you again. “Would you like that? Like my big cock splitting you open to leave you all swollen and pregnant?”
“I’d love that,” you whimper. “Fill me up, baby.”
He groans at your words, thrusting deep and hard, the headboard hitting the wall. So much for ‘shhh we’ll wake everyone up’. “Fuck baby, love being inside you, love how wet and hot you are and how goddamn well you squeeze me…”
He feels so fucking good, sex with him has always been good, right from the first damn time all those years ago. You’ve had sweet sex, rough sex, welcome home sex, make-up sex after fights and hell, once even ‘hate’ sex right after a fight but this is next level, it’s never been like this. “I love feeling you bare like this,” you gasp.
“I love feeling you bare too,” he moans. “Love that I’m going to fill you like this. I want to feel you bare every day. I want to breed you every day.”
Oh God, that’s something you never thought you’d hear him say. “Yes baby, breed me.” You purr, matching his vigorous movements as bets you can, taking him as deep as you can.
Joe’s next moan is guttural. His thrusts become faster, rougher, more needy. “Yes baby, I’m going to breed you so fucking good…” his hand slips between you, his fingers finding your clit and starting to rub against it in a pattern. You know this means he’s probably close and he wants you to get yours first.
So you move faster with him. You want to get there too, you want to feel him explode inside of you. “Fill me with your fucking baby,” you whine at him. “Trap me for live, want to always be yours.”
“Don’t want to trap you,” he mumbles as he fucks you. “Just want you to be with me forever, be the mother of my fucking kids. God babe,” he mumbles. “You’re going to be the mother of my kids…” he moans. “My wife. My everything.”
Your back arches. You’re so close. So so so close.
His fingers rub against your clit faster, he can tell how close you are. “Cum for me baby, milk my cock. Take it all.”
“Fuck, fuck…” you gasp out. “’M’gonna… Joe, I’m gonna…”
“Cum for me baby,” he repeats. “And then I’m gonna fill you up and breed you.”
Breed you.
That sends you over the edge, you bite into his shoulder as you see stars.
And then with two more thrusts, a whine of your name, you feel him spill inside of you, coating your walls before he collapses down on top of you, face red and breathing heavily. “Fuck.” he mumbles after a couple of seconds. “That was…”
“Unexpected?”
“Unexpected,” he agrees pressing a kiss against your lips before he rolls off and lies down next to you, opening his arms for you to roll into. You’re silent, your bodies cooling together comfortably for a couple of minutes and then he asks. “Hey?”
“Yeah?”
“Was that all… just talk…? About a baby? Or are you…?”
“Yeah…” you tell him softly. “Yeah, I’m ready if you are.”
Joe gives you the biggest smile. “I’ve been ready for a while.” He admits. “So… are we gonna try?”
“I’d like to.” You tell him, smiling back. “Hey?”
“Hmm?”
“I didn’t realise you had a breeding kink…” You tease.
Joe chuckles.
“Neither did I.”
You pad around the kitchen. Joe’s been busy as usual, filming something else, a quick visit home and then he went away again for reshoots on the ‘not RomCom’ for 10 days. But he promised he’d be home today, through hell or high water.
It’s your fifth anniversary.
He’s back in London, he messaged you fifteen minutes ago to let you know he’d arrived safely and he was just waiting for a car to come and pick him up and drop him off home. You can’t stay still, hence the padding around. You’re so nervous and excited for him to come home.
Mostly excited.
Your eyes fall on the box on the table. His anniversary gift, in a white box with a black bow wrapped around it. You know he’s going to love it.
Because inside that box, nestled on white tissue paper are three little white and blue sticks.
Three very positive little white and blue sticks.
You hear his key in the door and you squeal internally.
Want some Benthan-tinged Benji struggles? No? Too bad.
Tagging @airlocksandaviaries cause they hype my writer’s sadism up
Takes place during Rogue Nation.
“I will give you a chance.” Lane’s words drag like nails on a chalkboard, cutting through Benji like an errant breeze seeps through old windows. “Your odds will depend on him.”
The ‘him’ is Ethan. And of Ethan? Benji has no bloody doubt. He would put the world in Ethan Hunt’s hands.
“If,” The Syndicate’s Leader punctuates. “He does not take the money for himself.”
“He wouldn’t. That’s not Ethan.” Benji says, and like a total wanker, he has revealed his hand. Lane turns with interest, leveling him with those cold, dead eyes.
“You know him well.”
“Sod off. I’m not telling you anything.” Considering his predicament, Benji feels that he is perfectly entitled to be crabby about every bloody observation being made about his bloody person. Especially when Lane takes the response as permission to approach, sticking his ghoulish countenance into Benji’s personal bubble. Leaving him to squirm, like a worm under the slight pressure of a boot.
“You don’t need to. I have what I need.” Lane’s affect is a flat, nasally thing, unresponsively responsive. The cuffs on Benji’s wrists are fully taut now, he has stretched the limits of just how far away he can go from the Syndicate’s leader. He’s certain he looks like a right muppet, neck stretched and face smushed up like he’s eaten something disgusting. The silence and the lack of space bears down on him, nails scratching, bending on the arm rests. Not for the first time since they jabbed the needle into his neck and dragged him up here with a bag on his head, he wishes Ethan was here.
“Get him ready.” Lane tips his head, and suddenly the two men, the so-called Bone Doctor and an unnamed henchman are flanking Benji, holding him down— a bit of a tosser’s effort considering he’s bound to a fucking chair. He squirms nonetheless because people are touching him and it feels like danger all around.
He’s done the simulations, faced down the barrel of more guns than the average bloke, and helped avert more than one mass-death catastrophe. But he has never been captured, and with cold realization, he understands that Lane sees this and something else. Something so devastating, if extracted from him the way the Syndicate reaches into places teeming with life and drags them asunder. He realizes that for Lane, it was never a matter of gauging whether the disavowed agent would come for his teammate, but the nature and ferocity with which he’d arrive. Benji has delivered the answer and the man he loves on a silver platter. Lane spares him no further glances as he leaves. For Benji, it’s as much a mercy as it is him being condemned to his fate.
He smothers the panicked voice that reaches for Ethan and starts trying to bite the henchman.
But then again, he has recently discovered, Silver’s quite prone to believe half truths. To fall for them.
The Iblis Trigger is just his latest one.
His heart races at the thought.
Thump thump, mocking him. Thump thump.
He’s not scared of him, not at all. No, it’s something completely opposite.
—
A ‘06 rewrite featuring sonilver + orpheus and Eurydice parallels
sonilver week 2025 day 1: myth
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
note: KSHBKUG<AEJVKHHMGVAWMmkvGMKBHJA
i got a bit excited and published a day ahead, but what can you do?
soooo i divided it into two chapters because i didn't finish it on time ;-;
i'll lock in and have it finished for the st v2 release dw
I feel like I've only shared stuff about adult!Gina and that's only part of her story. So here's a *long* fragment from when she was eighteen. I don't technically know how canon it is because it was mostly for practice but I don't see why it couldn't be.
Please pardon any errors.
2017.
"Are you suuure that's what happened?" Gina giggled as she sat on a stepstool watching Mr.Stevens try to figure out what's going on with her Grandma's sink.
"Yes, Ms.Gina! You know I'd never lie to you!" Mr.Stevens said from under the sink. She can hear that he's smiling and that made her blush.
"Erm— you always lie to me when you tell me the little tales of your youth." Gina teased, wiggling her fingers for emphasis even if he couldn't see. He probably knew she was doing that though.
"'Tales of my youth?' Ouch, Ms.Gina! Am I that old now? You think I'm just some old guy trying to bore you with random tidbits about my life?"
"You're forty, Mr.Stevens... that's pretty old ya know..." Gina scrunched up her face as she said that.
"Was the face necessary? Aren't you being cruel enough?" He sounded playfully hurt and Gina felt her cheeks go a deeper red.
"Nuh-uh! You have to accept it! You're old! Aren't you, like, officially middle-aged now?" Gina pondered, tapping herself on the chin.
"Okay— now you're being mean. Of course I seem old to you, you're eighteen. I probably seem damn near ancient." He sighed, getting out from under the sink and pulling off his gloves.
"Yeah, yeah. You've seen my grandma. She's sixty. Plus! My mom's forty... so you're not that old." Gina conceded, getting off the stepstool and inching her way over to Mr.Stevens to see what he was looking at. He was clearly lost in thought.
"What's the prognosis doctor?" Gina asked after a few minutes of quiet with Mr.Stevens mumbling to himself.
"Well, you see, my patient is rather old. And it seems like she hasn't had a physical in quite some time... we may have been able to catch this sooner... but she should make a full recovery. She just needs a pretty intensive surgery." He explained, looking over at Gina who was peeking around his arm to see the pipes under the sink.
"That doesn't sound encouraging..."
"It'll be alright." Mr.Stevens said as he patted her on the head. She moved away from his hand like a dog does when they don't want to be pet.
"You're lucky I'm being nice, or you could've lost a finger... you know I hate you patting me on my head." Gina narrowed her eyes at Mr.Stevens, grumbling when he smiled at her.
"Grow a couple inches then. I thought you were supposed to have another growth spurt... that never happened with you, huh?" He pinched her cheek as he turned to the island to make a note of a couple things in the notepad he always kept on him. She rubbed her cheek and stood next to him, trying to read what he was writing.
"You alwaaays ask me why you can't hang out with me when I'm working..." Mr.Stevens said, smiling at her, watching her look down at her hands shyly. She clacked her nails together, a nervous habit she does whenever she has acrylic nails. She looked like she was due for a fill.
"I like your handwriting..." She said sheepishly.
"Ms.Gina, be a doll and get your grandma for me, please." He went back to writing stuff down.
"Ugh! Fiiine... I'm not a kid anymore, I can tell when you send me away on busy work..."
"Mm-hm? And?" He didn't look up at her as he wrote.
She rolled her eyes and went to fetch her grandmother. As those two talked, she made her way over to his jacket and made sure no one was watching so she could grab his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and take a single cigarette to hide it up the sleeve of her pretty pink dress. The sleeves make her feel like she could be a vampire, or a "pirate" as Mr.Stevens had said when she first got it. She thinks vampires are cooler. She put the cigarettes back and hurried up to her room where she stashed it with the other cigarettes of his she's stolen throughout the years. She hasn't been able to steal a ton, but she has a nice hoard.
She was laying on her bed listening to music and flipping through a game manual. She was stuck on a part and strangely enough, there were no answers online. She's starting to think she's just fucking stupid. She usually does alright with puzzles but this one... she's starting to accept defeat.
"Still haven't beat the level yet?" Mr.Stevens asked, standing in her doorway, leaning on it, hands still damp from washing them.
"It's not a level perse... more like one single fucking puzzle..." She groaned, closing the book and sitting up, turning on her bed so she was facing him. She made sure her dress was tucked over her knees. Despite predominantly wearing dresses, she has a tendency to forget how to act when she's at home in the comfort of her own room especially. She's been lectured many times by her mom and grandma for letting her underwear show.
"Sounds annoying. You'll figure it out. Your grandma invited me to stay for dinner..." He flashed her the smile that made her heart flutter every time she saw it. She's sure every woman feels that way about it though…
"Of course she did. You won't let her pay you so this is her way. Mama does the same thing."
"I just don't have it in my heart to take money from a single mom and a widow. Is your mom gonna be eating with us?" He asked, notably noticing that she was playing music. He didn't recognize this as a song she listens to often.
"Probably not. Her stupid boss made her come in because some other asshole called out. They're short staffed and for some reason there's a lot of people at the hotel." Gina rambled.
"Ah, alright. That sucks for her though, I hope someone else can come in and help."
"I offered because sometimes her boss lets me but mama said no this time 'cause she doesn't know when she's getting off."
"That was very kind of you, Ms.Gina. I'm sure your mom appreciated the offer. Is that why you're staying at your grandma's?” He asked as he came into her room and sat on the office chair she had in front of her desk. Normally this seat is by her closet for some odd reason.
Gina nodded and groaned, turning to face him still when he sat down. She toyed with her curly hair, looking upset.
“What's wrong, my Gina? You usually don't mind staying at your grandma's.” He said as he leaned back against the chair and yawned. He looked quite tired.
“I just feel like I haven't got to see mama in a bit. She's been working a lot lately. She comes home and sleeps. Her hours are weird. I don't know. I know it's silly…”
“Ms.Gina, how is that silly? She's your mom. Of course you want to see her. Let me guess, Victor hasn't been much help has he?” Mr.Stevens spat, tone souring the second he mentioned Gina's father.
Gina shook her head no and sighed, laying back on her bed, arms thrown above her head, legs bent over the edge of the foot of the bed. She looked so small, even here. Mr.Stevens couldn't help but smile looking at her, always so dramatic, always so– her.
“He stopped by last week… Was here for like a day or two. Drunk of course. I don't think mama even saw him. I fed him and washed his clothes. He slept basically the whole time. He was gone in the morning. Didn't even say goodbye.” Gina rolled over onto her side, resting her head on her arms. Her chubby cheeks were squished into her puffy sleeves.
“You didn't tell me about that…”
“I knew you'd get angry. I was hoping he'd come back home and I didn't want you to have a ‘conversation’ with him. I know you don't like him. It means a lot to mama, grandma, and me that you help us out so much but I don't know what would happen if you got into an altercation with my dad.” Gina sighed.
Mr.Stevens didn't say anything, he just nodded with his jaw clenched. He looked down at his hands and picked at a hangnail. Gina watched him as he did. His dark hair fell forward a little, getting in his face. Her cheeks reddened. She's pretty sure he's the most handsome man she's ever seen. Will ever see. After composing himself, he ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Gina, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. She looked away quickly, embarrassed that he caught her staring.
“Did you listen to that song I sent you yesterday?” He asked, moving the conversation along. They can never talk about Victor too long. Mr.Stevens tries to bite his tongue so Gina has a safe place to voice her upset, but it never works. One of Mr.Stevens weaknesses. That temper of his he tries so hard to pretend he doesn't have. Most of the time, he's convincing. But of course it rears its ugly head. Gina sat up and moved to the side of the bed closest to Mr.Stevens.
“Not yet, I’m going to tonight. Grandma always goes to sleep so early.” Gina snickered, grabbing her phone really quick. There was a song she wanted to send him too but completely forgot. Well, actually, she fell asleep before she could send it. Another night of staying up until 5 in the morning. Maybe that's for the best, he would lecture her about staying up so late and she really didn't want to hear it.
“You'll have to tell me how you like it. I'm on the fence about this one. You might, but you might also not… I feel like normally I'm pretty good about picking stuff to send you.”
“Now I'm even more curious… I'm gonna send you a song too. I don't think you're gonna like, love it, but I think the lyrics might interest you!” Gina said as she opened up their texts and sent him the link.
“We'll see about that, Ms.Gina…” He teased, narrowing his eyes at her. She looked away shyly, tossing her phone next to her.
“Have you played them before? I don't recognize ‘em.” He said, gesturing towards the direction of wherever music's coming from. He can't remember where she keeps this speaker.
Gina thought for a couple seconds, looking at her pink speaker. After a little bit she shook her head.
“Nah, I don't think so. I really don't think you'd like them.’ She giggled, ‘It's probably hard enough to put up with what I listen to.”
“Honestly Ms.Gina? I really don't mind your music. Sure I like some songs more than others but I mean that's normal right? I'm sure you don't love every song I play…”
“True! I love that one song… What is it called?” She asked as she poked herself between her eyebrows with her first two fingers. She looked like she was trying hard to remember. Mr.Stevens smiled at her and furrowed his eyebrows.
“Me and the Birds?” He asked, knowing her well.
“Yes! I could listen to that for hours! I wish the song was longer.”
“Guess that's what the repeat button's for.” He said as he tried to stifle a yawn. He leaned his head back and rubbed his eyes.
“You don't have to stay for dinner, Mr.Stevens. You can head home and get some rest. If you'd like, I could bring some food over…” Gina said shyly, peeking up at him. He peeked over at her from how he was rubbing his eyes and shook his head, sitting up.
“Thank you, Ms.Gina but I like eating with you guys.” He said as his phone started to ring. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing that it was going to be work.
“Yeah, it's me. — Stevens… Uh huh and when would that be?” He got up and left the room without even the slightest look at Gina. Normally he would at least give her a wave or something. Or a pat on the shoulder. Anything.
Gina sighed and laid back against her bed, looking up at the ceiling. Her heart ached and she wondered, is any of this going to be worth it? This feeling won't be for nothing, will it? She knows what she needs to do, but she's not ready to think about the consequences. Her stomach flips just thinking about it, the concept, not even the idea. She hopes it'll all be worth it one day. She hopes that maybe one day, she'd forgive herself for taking so long. June felt so far away, yet also so close. June. Not July. Not August. June. It has to be June or it'll never happen. That makes her feel worse than the “concept” did. The idea of being stuck. Stuck. So painfully stuck. She rolled over onto her stomach and laid face first into her pillows. Only moving once her lungs burned. She rested her head to the side, arms cradling it and wondered how she ended up here.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Little Shop of Horrors (1986), Little Shop of Horrors - Menken/Ashman
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Audrey Fulquard/Seymour Krelborn, Audrey Fulquard/Orin Scrivello, Audrey Fulquard & Seymour Krelborn
Characters: Audrey Fulquard, Seymour Krelborn, Orin Scrivello
Additional Tags: Period Typical Attitudes, Pining, Pre-Slash, Canon Compliant, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Dresses
Summary:
" As Audrey was haphazardly, anxiously reapplying powder to her cheeks in the small cracked flower shop mirror, she was urging for time to stop. Freeze, if only for a second. She wouldn't have to see him so soon if time froze. A limbo in which her cheeks wouldn't become grape bunches, her arms wouldn't sting. Orin was like a rose without the flower. He was a thorny stem that was suffocating the small beating facets of her heart, that still maintains the childish wonder about true romance. "
Or
Audrey has a date with a certain dentist all she can do is hope that time will move slower.
