You Season Three - Tumblr Posts

YOU Season 3 is literally the best one yet .. so entertaining and funny but dark . Everything made sense and the side character literally stole the show . One of the best series of Netflix this year.

Bloodroots in the Suburbs - Chapter One: The Babysitter 

prologue 

a/n soooo happy with how this story has been received!! here’s chapter one :) 

series summary: Bloodroots are such a strange flower--white and innocent looking yet undeniably poisonous. It has no place in the safest neighborhood in CA. Then again, neither do you. The suburbs are killing you, and no one understands that...at least you think no one does. I see that in the way you roll your eyes when your sister presses the issue of when you’re going to get back on your feet. I see that restlessness when you’re in the small plot of land that you’ve actually managed to turn into some type of garden. I see you; I understand you. And if it wasn’t for the confines I bear to protect my son, I’d let you know that. But for now, I settle for knowing that the two of us are equally trapped, and I take some solace in that. I feel bad about it, I do, considering that from what I’ve gathered you spent most of your life being considered the perfect, ideal golden girl that was nothing but potential. And now you’re no longer the gifted child, the one that’s first to raise their tiny hand in class, the one that knows everything. But that’s okay--because I’ll make my selfishness up to you.

chapter summary: In a town full of au pairs and staffed houses, nanny cams are just standard practice. It’s not Joe’s fault that the new babysitter keeps getting phone calls. 

Joe’s POV.

You’re a natural caregiver. That much is clear from how much time you spend outside, watching and pruning the pitiful green square you’re desperate to turn into a garden. I’m sure you will, something about the way your eyebrows draw together when assessing the tiny, green sprouts tells me that you’re a force to be reconned with when you’re determined. And you definitely are.

You take such care with your plants, how could I ever need a reference to trust you with my son? Trust. That’s the perfect word for us, y/n. You don’t belong here, you’re not one of these fake, cookie cutter emblems--you’re real. I can trust you. Not with everything I’ve done, no, or with feelings that are still unfortunately brewing. Feelings I promise I will keep in check. I swear I’ll do everything I can to keep them on a leash.

You’re young and you’re meant for more than this place, I refuse to give you strings, especially when getting tangled in my web could cost you your life in both a metaphorical and literal sense. I know your career feels shot right now, and I really feel for you. I mean one New York agent gets caught trying to take advantage of you, and you’re the one getting punished? How is that fair? I thought this generation believed women...but that’s just what the media wants us to think. A point you brought up in the first and last interview you did after the scandal. That interviewer kept asking sexist questions and no one in the world was willing to defend you, that’s why you lost your patience. If I had been there, I could have protected you. I’m here now, though, and I promise I’ll make up for my absence.

“Joe? Can you watch Henry today? I know I said I’d take him, but Sherry called me about an event she wants me to cater. It sounded like the mommy blogging convention of the year, which means I have to pick up groceries and try recipes for about a thousand different dietary restrictions.”

I have to look away from you. I have to pretend that there was never anything intriguing about the window that looks out over the front lawn even though you’re standing there, only a road dividing us. Still, I’m not too disappointed, because Love has given me the perfect opportunity to introduce the idea of you.

This feels like playing with fire. If Love ever senses the way I feel about you, you’ll never get to leave here. You’ll never get to do anything again. But I know how to be smart, I know how to be attentive enough to keep her doubts away. And if you’re the girl across the street, the babysitter, you’ll blend into her background. It’s not like I can keep you completely away from her, I would if I could...but you’re across the street from me. I know the monster that lives in me can’t shut you out when you’re right there, so in need of my help, even when it comes to opening a gate.

So I know I can’t put you away, somewhere safe...which means I need to hide you in plain sight. Which is exactly what I’m doing. “I can’t, shift at the library.”

“The usual sitter’s out of town, so I guess I should tell Sherry I can’t do it.”

“Or...” This needs to seem like an idea I’m coming up with right now. “You know the family across the street?”

“Sarah and Tom?” She nods once, adjusting Henry on her hip. “Yeah--they’re great, but I don’t think either of them are up to babysitting. They want a baby too much to be around one that isn’t theres.”

“No, no, of course not. There’s actually someone else living with them--Sarah’s sister, I met her while taking my walk with Henry yesterday. She mentioned wanting something part time and she has babysitting experience, and a strong list of references.” That’s completely true--you texted me your resume about half an hour after we met. You added a smiley face at the end of your text. Does that mean you’re already thinking of me as more than just the random dad from across the street?

“Sarah’s sister?” Love pauses, she’s thinking about it, trying to put a face to the label. “Oh--I’ve met her. She’s been by the bakery, she’s a good tipper, seems nice.” This is working, but I can’t seem eager. “Isn’t she a party girl? Sherry said something about her needing to flee New York City.”

Indifference. Indifference. You make it so hard not to defend you. My hero. You said it politely, a partial joke, but I intend to make it a reality. “Sherry likes gossip. Party girls don’t move to the suburbs if they want to keep being party girls.”

She pauses, desperation is making her a little more open to the possibility of a stranger watching Henry. “You want to let her watch him?”

Love doesn’t sound suspicious. There’s the slightest bit of tiredness in her voice, she’s just discussing the prospect of hiring a new babysitter. This is going to be the most important reaction. I need to play you as sympathetic, someone who I could feel protective of, sure, but not in a romantic way. Right now, I’m thankful that you’re younger than us. “She probably came here because she wanted to abandon her past. I see us in her.” Love’s eyes round slightly, good, she’s sympathetic. Time to seal the way that she sees you, and y/n, I want you to know that this next part makes me feel terrible, but it needs to be said. A nail in the coffin for your safety. “She seems like a good kid.”

Ugh, saying that left a terrible taste in my mouth. You’re not a child. Considering the ways I’ve thought of you, the ways I’ve pictured you, it’d make me a fucking monster to think of you as a child. Which is why Love needs to think I see you as that.

Henry spits up onto a blanket on Love’s shoulder; I feel you, buddy. Love wipes his mouth with the fabric. “Okay--that’s a good point.”

“And if it makes you feel better, I can try to duck out of work a little early, surprise her a little. See how she is with Henry.”

She bounces Henry comfortingly. “Yeah--could you?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay, then can you see if she’s available? Because I need to be at the grocery store like now, because the deadline is super soon and--”

“I’ve got it.” I step towards her, moving until I’m close enough to take Henry into my arms. She lets the way our hands touch linger before leaning upwards. She kisses me and I kiss her back. It’s a quick peck, nothing really, but it’s enough to make me wonder what It’d be like for us to kiss. For our lips to touch. “Go. Go make keto, vegan, paleo, fast ending pastries so that all the mommy bloggers can tell everyone you’re the best.”

She grins. “Thank you.”

I adjust the way I’m holding Henry. Now, I have an excuse to talk to you. To bring you here and allow you to slip into our lives like you’ve always been here. “It’s what I do.”

Love leaves, purse in hand. I wait until her car is out of the driveway before looking for you out the window. You’re no longer in the garden. You must have gone back inside. I hate to think that you might have plans. Neither I nor Love would hold it against you, considering that this is extremely last minute...but things have just worked out too perfectly.

I cross the street, Henry in my arms as I knock on the front door. You open it--not your sister or brother-in-law. You. Did you see me from the window? Were you hoping that I’d come back to you so soon?

“Joe! Hi.” You’re happy to see me, it’s more than politeness, I can see a warmth in your eyes. Maybe you want to entertain the idea of me but you can’t bring yourself to. You don’t want to be the person that destroys a marriage. I understand, but you’ve destroyed nothing. If anything, you’ve cultivated me into something new. Something with purpose.

“Hi,” I could get lost on this front porch with you. “I know this is insanely last minute, but Love just got this catering job and I’m scheduled to work, so given yesterday’s conversation, I was wondering if you could come over and watch Henry.”

You smile, eyes moving from me to Henry and then back to me. The warmth of your expression tells me that I’ve done the right thing.

“She’s available!” A voice interrupts us.

You turn your head, throwing a slightly irritated glance behind you. “Sarah!” You turn back to me, eyes softening as a form of apology. We were interrupted, and you feel bad about that. “Sorry about her.”

Your sister appears in the doorway. I see the family resemblance--same hair color, same eyes. “Hi, I’m Sarah Burrell, I’ve seen you around the neighborhood. Tom and I keep meaning to invite you and your wife over for dinner, but he’s been so busy with work lately.”

Right, your brother-in-law’s ‘work’. He’s a Burrell, as in Burrell Pharmaceuticals. Also known as the company that supposedly created the first, secret COVID vaccine that only the ridiculously rich could afford. Buzzfeed thinks the Burrell vaccine--which was never confirmed--was administered to the Queen of England and the entire royal family. But then again....that’s Buzzfeed.

Still, the point is your brother-in-law might be the richest guy in Madre Linda. He’s also the youngest of three, meaning that he’ll never have to look at the business side of Burrell Pharmaceuticals. It also means that Tom’s side business of creating healthy, sophisticated energy drinks’ is completely unnecessary and overly pretentious. Does the world really need an energy drink with 0 trans fats that’s white truffle flavored? We both know the answer to that.

"Hi, Sarah.” Your sister reaches out her hand. I take it. “Don’t worry about it, Love and I have been busy with the bakery and...him.” I bounce Henry once, letting all the attention move off of me. Sarah smiles, but there’s a tiny bit of stiffness there. A stiffness so subtle I don’t think she’s aware of it. You weren’t kidding when you made that joke about how badly she wants a baby. “Which is why I’m so thankful to your sister, who’s offered to help us.”

Sarah nods, ready to let you go.

“Babe--is someone at the door?” Great--the man behind escargot flavored energy drinks himself. He appears in the foyer, in a Ralph Lauren collared shirt, dirty blonde hair shagging over his eyebrows. “Oh--hey, you live across the street, right?”

“Yes, I’m Joe and this is Henry.”

“Oh--what a cute little man.” He coos at Henry, who is his father’s son, because he really doesn’t seem impressed. “We’ve been meaning to have you over for dinner, but I’ve been slammed in the office.” Fighting several FDA lawsuits. “I own a company that makes high end energy drinks.” I nod, pretending that I’ve never heard about it. “Oh, speaking of, there’s a new flavor I’ve been developing and I brought home a sample, and I’ve been looking for someone to try it.”

I’d literally rather put anything else into my body. “That sounds great, but I really need to get to work.”

“It’ll take a second, I’ll go get us two glasses.” My digestive system will never forgive me if I don’t get out of this.

“Tom, he’s busy.” Thank you, y/n, you’re trying to save me. “I don’t--”

He comes back, holding out a glass of dark liquid. “Told you it’d only be a second.”

You’re giving me a look that says sorry. A look that tells me that I don’t need to do this. But I’d do anything for you, even drink the tar being handed to me. I take the glass, forcing myself to swallow the liquid in it. And--it’s so much worse than I thought. It’s bitter, and...and fishy.  

Tom is watching my reaction. I turn my grimace into a smile. “It’s um...I’ve never tasted an energy drink like this.”

“Good, right?!” I nod, fighting the way the energy drink seems to want to come back up. “It’s caviar flavored.”

The things I do for you, y/n. “Y-yeah, I got that.” He grins. “I’d love to drink the rest of this, but I need to get to work.”

“Of course,” he takes the glass back. “Well, good to finally meet you, and thanks for the feedback.” I almost say ‘anytime’ but realize that he might take that literally. “Oh, um--I have these tasting parties with other guys from the neighborhood, I’ll be sure to send you an invite.”

I’drather lose another finger. “I’ll keep an eye out, man.”

He smiles again, nodding before disappearing. Your sister squeezes your shoulder once before saying goodbye to me and disappearing into the house. As soon as they’re gone, you laugh. The sound is so warm it makes the lingering taste of acidic, liquid caviar worth it.

“I can’t believe you actually drank it.”

Look at you, making me smile after one of the weirdest, unneeded interactions I’ve experiencing all week. And that’s saying something in Madre Linda. “Hasn’t he gotten you to drink anything?”

“No,” you shake your head, attempting to dismiss a smile. “He thinks I’m allergic to like twenty different things.” You laugh again. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get you out of here in time.”

You’re still holding in a partial laugh, we’re still joking, and yet I know that there’s something genuine about the reaction. Something behind your eyes tells me that you do feel a little bad, a little guilty. You’ve been told to apologize too many times and some of that’s sunken into you.

“I have a feeling he would have caught me at some point.” We stand there again, quiet. It’d be too easy to lose time with you.

But you don’t like the quiet. Or at least, you’re not used to it. Because the quiet means you’re being seen and you’re used to people interpreting you incorrectly. I can see it in the way you stand, the correction of your posture, the way you angle your head. You want to be seen as perfect, flawless. You don’t have to be perfect around me. And it’s scary, y/n, I know--but I won’t run from you, and then you’ll understand that you’re safe with me.

“Probably.”

I nod. “We should get going.”

You take a step forward, one hand reaching for the door handle. “Yeah, we should, I’d hate to make you late for work.”

There isn’t a shift for me to be late to, but you don’t need to know that. “Right.”

We walk together, a polite distance between us, and yet, when I turn to open the door, the back of our palms brush. The contact is more surprising to you than you realize, you take a partial step back as I open the front door.

I want to show you around. I’m not particularly attached to this property, it’s a nice house, Quinn blood money made sure of that, but it doesn’t mean much to me beyond a way to assure that Henry gets into a good school. But I want you to be comfortable in my house, I want you to be comfortable around me. It’s the least I could do, considering the way you’ve helped me. Without your assuring presence, I think the suburbs would have driven me crazy. But you’ve been here, outside in your garden, letting me know that I’m not the only one drowning in the mundane.

But you’ll get suspicious about why I’m not in a bigger hurry to get to work. So this will have to be a rushed interaction. “He had a bottle a little over an hour ago, which means he doesn’t need to eat for a couple hours, but if he gets fussy there’s another bottle in the fridge. If that doesn’t work, try putting him down in the nursery, it’s the first door upstairs. He might whine at first, try reading to him, there’s a stack of books in there--Fitzgerald is his favorite.” You raise an eyebrow, amused at what you’re probably assuming is a joke. “There are diapers and changing supplies under the diaper table in the nursery, uh...” What else should I tell you? “I wish I had more time to show you, but--”

“Oh, no,” you dismiss, always polite, always ready to help, “you’ve told me enough, I’m sure Henry and I can figure out the rest.”

You extend your arms, ready to take Henry. I squeeze him once before handing him to you. Our hands touch as you adjust the way you hold him. I don’t want to move back. Carefully, I let my fingers move past the back of your palm and onto your forearm. You let me move your arm so that you can better support Henry’s head.

I know I’ve agreed to keep my feelings in check, but seeing how naturally you hold my son. You’d be good for Henry. We’d be stable, a perfect family. But even thinking of this is putting you in danger. Love would kill you just because I cared about you, if I ever tried to do anything...

I can’t. I’m taking enough risks as it is, doing what I can to satiate the monster in me. “I think he likes you, and that’s a real compliment because sometimes I’m not even sure he likes me.”

You rock slightly to keep him calm. “That has to be in your head.” You say it with no judgement, a slight hum in your voice as you tilt your head. “You seem really great with him.”

Is there something in the way you say that? Something in the way your eyes soften? Or is that just what I want to be seeing? Women are drawn to babies and the men that are responsible for them. Let it go, let it go, let it go. I’m not going to get as attached to you as I’ve gotten to other people. Everything about you is temporary.

“Please, if I could get him to stay as calm as you are, I’d get hours of my day back.” You laugh slightly, cradling Henry’s head. It’s just me, you, and Henry, and I can’t remember the last time things felt like this. Complete. Like the family I had always pictured. You feel it too, that’s why you haven’t looked away yet. You may not have a name for the feeling, but that’s okay.

Henry starts to mumble, interrupting our moment. You look down, rocking him a little more. “Not to kick you out of you out of your own house, but speaking of hours that you can’t get back, aren’t you running late for work?” 

It’s too easy to get distracted with you. I need to focus. “Right,” I step back, towards the front door. “I’ll see you soon.” 

You rub Henry’s back patiently. “We’ll be here.” 

I walk out the front door, grabbing my keys from a table at the house’s entrance. I get in my car, driving away for your sake. I leave the neighborhood, driving towards town. I end up parking in an alleyway between two stores that Love won’t need to go to for baking supplies. There’s nothing illegal or particularly sketchy about what I’m doing, but I put on a dark baseball cap and slump into the driver’s seat of my car anyways. Better safe than be recognized by a neighbor and forced into a conversation about baby food allergies or preschool introduction letters. I pull out my phone, clicking on an app that takes two seconds to load. The screen shows me the camera feeds.

I’m not the biggest fan of technology, or Sherry’s blog, or...Sherry, but I do need to thank her for her blog post on the best nanny cam on the market. You’re still in the living room with Henry. I click on the camera you’re closest to, letting it become full screen. 

You’re good with him. You’d make a good mother, something I wish I hadn’t noticed but can’t stop thinking about. You’re attentive, focused, even though your phone rings often. You don’t take the calls, of course, your full attention is on Henry.

 Who’s calling you so much? Unfinished work in New York? A concerned friend? Maybe your mother? Or is someone waiting for you? They seem obsessive, y/n. You’re uncomfortable. 

When Henry falls asleep, the phone rings again. This time you finally answer, I unmute the feed. 

“...Stop calling me. I changed my number and didn’t give you my new address for a reason.” You hang up before shoving your phone angrily into the pocket of your jeans. You let out a frustrated sigh before wiping your face with your hands. Are you crying? 

Whoever has been calling you has hurt you. Really hurt you. If I could get your phone, just look at your call history, I’d know who they are. And then--no, the person is far from you now. They don’t have your address, they don’t have to be taken care of right now. Those are the kind of impulsive thoughts that make Love unstable. 

Henry starts crying, you wipe your check with the back of your palm one last time before going back into the nursery. 

You recover like nothing happened, and you do it so well I have no choice but to wonder how long you’ve been dealing with the way the person on the phone makes you feel. 

The time passes more slowly after the interruption. I can’t stop seeing the way your phone rang, again and again. The way you let it go on and on until you finally exploded. Is no one looking out for you? You’re twenty, you were in school until your career took off. Do you have an old roommate you talk to? Is that who the problem is? You’re one of the youngest people to ever be given their own New York Times column, so being able to relate to your coworkers is off the table. Your life fell apart, and you came here...to your sister, who’s caught up trying to have a baby. What about your parents?

And who is calling you so much? You’re never on your phone in the garden. I’ve seen you on the phone at the window before, and you seemed fine. Is the stranger always calling? Why? Who are they? 

This isn’t about me or about my urges. I want to know you, to figure you out, but I said I wouldn’t do that. I’d barely started with Natalie and look what Love did. I’m only going to help you...but can I do that without knowing you?

The phone rings again. You ignore it, leaving it on the kitchen counter before reaching into the fridge to find a bottle for Henry, who’s hungry crying. Who is that? They won’t leave you alone, you need someone to make them. You...you need me. 

Stop it. Care less. I don’t think I can leave you alone. You need someone that cares about you, and I’m trying to be that without getting attached. I need to--are they calling you again? Damn it, I need to know whose calls you’re ignoring.

I lock my phone, dropping it onto the passenger seat before taking my car off park. It’s a reasonable time to come back. 

Parking the car in the driveway of the house, I’m relieved to see that Love’s not back yet. Never thought I’d say this, but thank god for Sherry and her entire army of mommy blogging monsters. 

I open the front door, and it takes me no time to find you. You’re with Henry, sitting with him on the couch. And your phone is still on the kitchen counter. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey,” I walk over to you, taking Henry back, “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.” 

“Oh, he was great.” You were great, don’t sell yourself short. “And you were right about FItzgerald, half a chapter of The Great Gatsby, and he was out cold.” So you like the book with her, huh. Henry’s rejection aside, I think today was successful. Or at least it will be when I think of a way to get that phone number. 

“Told you, he’s his father’s son.” 

“Fitzgerald’s great, it’s hard not to like him...though I do think Zelda deserves more credit.” 

“You got me there.” I adjust my grip on Henry. “Sometimes in a marriage, things end up like that.” Why did I say that? I have no idea. It’s way too early to test the waters on how much you care about the fact that I’m married...I shouldn’t be doing it at all. 

You nod once but your expression reveals nothing. “It’s a big decision.” Sometimes it’s the wrong decision. “I’m sorry, do you mind if I use your restroom?” 

“Of course--second door on your left down the hall behind you.” 

You walk away, not even glancing in the direction of your phone. The moment you’re gone, I walk to the kitchen counter. Your phone is password protected, but the missed call number is on your notification screen. I pull my phone out of my pocket, taking a picture of yours. Your phone starts buzzing again, this time it’s a call from your sister. When you don’t answer, she texts you immediately. 

Ashton called the house phone asking about you. Maybe you shouldn’t come back for awhile, he’s crazy enough to have been calling from the airport. 

Who the fuck is Ashton? 

--

Chapter Two - Kill Habits, Not People 

--

Taglist: @maggiecc