#nora i am once again begging

[iambecomeyourvillain]

do you ever think about..

what kevin day would be like, inside his head? i mean we saw neil unreliable dumbass josten inside his head, then from jean's pov as an abominable cockroach insane wildcard of a person who keeps getting away with shit people statistically don't get away with. same way we saw jean and jeremy (let's not even get into jeremy's avoidant ass mind rn). so how would it be really inside kevin day's head? does he really only think about exy? does he still live in fear of riko despite knowing he's gone? does he think about his studies a lot because he's a nerd? does he forget he's got a girlfriend? who's his favourite person in the world? how badly does he want a closer relationship with wymack? does he have recurring nightmares? does he feel proud of himself? does he think he's capable of violence?

because i do. i need so many answers.

#nora i am once again begging #all for the game #kevin day #aftg #neil josten #andrew minyard #tfc #the king's men #nora sakavic #the sunshine court

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible {6} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: Gossiping drivers, alcohol and Charlotte. What could possibly go wrong? Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, cheating, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 4.9k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

Three weeks ago there had been an anonymous complaint raised about your presence in the paddock when you were nothing more than a spectator. Apparently an emotional support animal wasn’t an acceptable reason to travel with Charles and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who laid the complaint.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Charles asked as you placed a plate of food in front of him. 

“I’m getting paid to do what I would normally do anyway,” you pointed out once again. “And dad said I needed to get a job.”

You had been hired by Ferrari to work in the hospitality building; running food orders, making drinks, tidying the driver’s rooms. Okay, maybe the job was more than you would normally do, but not by much. At least you were kept busy and boredom no longer plagued you. 

“I didn’t realise you needed the money,” he murmured as he stabbed a seasoned chicken breast with his fork. His credit card in your handbag was yours to use however you wanted, he had assured you of that time and time again, and it was the only reason his apartment was furnished so brightly. You could never have done that on the measly savings in your bank account. 

“I don’t, but I’m not going back to Monaco on my own.” That was the consequence if you didn’t become an employee, at least while the Covid restrictions were in place. 

“Hmm, god knows what trouble you would get up to there on your own,” he chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Something had been off about him all morning, but you knew he would talk about it when he was ready so you let it drop.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you said with a wink as you leaned closer and laid a napkin on his lap. “I believe you called me a good girl just last night.”

You left the dining area before he could respond and met Sebastian at the beverage station. He was another of the drivers you had befriended, though much like he was to Charles, it was more in a father-figure role. The German was a gentle soul and you always had time for him, even when he called you out for the feelings you thought you were able to conceal in public.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” he commented as you made his coffee - double shot espresso with a dollop of froth, no sugar. 

“You obviously need this coffee to wake you up, Bassy, you are clearly dreaming,” you said as you placed it in front of him and showed your bare arms. “I have no sleeves.”

Sebastian smiled as he lifted the cup to his lips, the words entertaining him but not fooling him. “There is a little get together tonight with some of the other drivers. I think everyone is feeling a little isolated from society right now and could do with socialising. You should come.”

You gave a noncommittal shrug because you weren’t sure if Charles would be one of those other drivers, he hadn’t mentioned anything to you. “Maybe, it depends how busy I am picking up your dirty laundry.”

“My wife trained me well, maybe you are thinking of the wrong room.” He placed the empty mug down and departed with a wink. 

The rest of the day passed quickly and you made yourself comfortable in Charles’ room while you waited for him to finish his media duties. It wasn’t unexpected that he took longer since it was the first of the two Italian GPs, he had given you warning that the team’s homerace would be more hectic. Pierre was the first to invite himself in, lounging on the other seat wanting to know the gossip around the paddock. 

“Don’t lie, I know the best gossip comes from the kitchens,” he begged when you said there was nothing of interest. 

“What can I say? Everyone is tight lipped after Nora and Damien caught covid.”

That had been the hottest gossip of the week because Nora was from Renault and Damien from Racing Point. Both teams were still arguing over who gave it to who and there were talks of suspension because they were sneaking into each other’s rooms instead of isolating. 

“Ah bon,” he huffed. “Are you coming tonight?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t had a chance to ask Charles what the plan is,” you answered as you checked your phone again to see no messages and the afternoon was dragging. “What is taking him so long?”

“You’re waiting here for him?” Pierre frowned as he sat up a little straighter. “He was heading back to the hotel after he finished, he had to go pick up Charlotte from the airport.”

You tried to police your face but from the pity on Pierre’s it was clear you failed to hide the disappointment, shock and betrayal. Charles had been quieter in the last few days but everything you asked what was wrong he said nothing and then distracted you.

“Sorry, I thought you knew and that’s why you were still hiding out here.” He stood up and reached into the pocket of his Toro Rosso jacket to grab his car keys. “Wanna catch a ride with me?”

You didn’t really want to go back to the hotel room you had been sharing with Charles but had no idea where else you could go. You definitely needed to change out of the Ferrari uniform you wore but you didn’t want to see Charlotte if you could help it. Why was she even here?

“I don’t know, but from his mood I’m guessing Charles didn’t invite her.”

You didn’t realise you had asked that aloud and you concentrated on your shoes as you stood up and followed him out to the carpark. You almost asked him to turn around and take you back to the paddock but there would probably be more gossip spread if you slept in Charles’ driver’s room instead of the hotel.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said as you stepped out of Pierre’s car. 

“No problem. Text me if you want a ride to the party.”

You weren’t exactly in the mood to party but the idea of liquor was growing on you so you said maybe and departed. Walking into the hotel, you passed the designer stores that lined the first two floors and felt the black credit card calling, but it was probably the devil whispering in your ear. And not for the first time you listened. 

Charles checked his phone as he received another notification from his bank. One part of him was pleased to know you were at least near the hotel since the charges were to the shops below, but a larger part was sick knowing you were lashing out because of the message he had left in your room down the hall. 

The shower turned off as his phone vibrated again and a bitter laugh bubbled at the $50k debit he saw for Prada before Charlotte appeared from the bathroom. There was a time before you showed up back in his life where he found her beautiful but now he could only imagine your face when he held her. He really had to do something about this because no matter how disinterested or rude he was, she ignored it to remain in his life. Looking away as she reached the bed, he returned his focus to his phone and sent a message to the person he actually wanted to be with.

The hotel room was silent when you finally built up the courage to leave the shops and take the elevator to the higher floors. The housekeepers had swept through and placed everything back where it belonged except for one square sheet of hotel-embossed paper.

Charlotte is here so I will be staying with her for the week. I’m sorry, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you in person. Love, Charles x

You sneered at the paper as your phone vibrated. “Love, my ass.”

Charles: Ma biche, if you are trying to bankrupt me you are going to have to do better than that. 

You: I just want to look good for the party tonight. Never know who I might take back to my room.

You slammed the stack of receipts down beside the note and went to see that his bags were gone from the bedroom. Your lip curled back in disgust and you tore the protective sheath off the little black dress you had purchased with his money. If he was going to be a coward then he would suffer the consequences of it. You were sick of waiting for them to break up, maybe their delusions for a perfect image actually made them perfect for each other.

Charles slammed his phone onto the bedside drawer and pushed Charlotte’s advancing hands away. “I’m not in the mood.”

Rolling her eyes, she settled amongst the pillows and crossed her arms. “You’re never in the mood anymore.”

“Whatever, just get dressed,” Charles ordered as he kicked his suitcase over before unzipping it and grabbing a clean set of clothes. “We’re going out.”

“I just got here.”

“So? It’s a party.” He didn’t even glance her way as he pulled his Ferrari shirt over his head and replaced it with a plain white t-shirt before moving onto his jeans. 

“Will Y/N be there?”

Charles’ foot caught in the legging and he nearly tipped over. “I don’t know,” he lied.

Charlotte knew him well enough to know when he was lying, or telling half truths - those were almost as common as breathing to him lately. 

–

Since social gatherings were frowned upon, the group had met in a large field that the motorhomes parked in near the Monza track. A roughly cut metal oil drum glowed with a fire and golden embers floated off into the evening light as you navigated your way in new heels to the circle of couches around it. 

“I think I overdressed,” you joked to Pierre as a dozen pairs of eyes flickered your way. There was no denying that you looked amazing, but you were more suited for the red carpet than a backyard bonfire. You should have gone with jeans and a shirt like Pierre wore when he picked you up.

“I think you look beautiful,” Max said with a smile as he shifted on his seat to make space for you. “You can sit here.”

You returned the smile and carefully stepped over the legs outstretched to warm by the fire. One pair of eyes burned into you but you pointedly ignored him as he sat opposite the flames with Charlotte on his lap. You stood in front of Max and put your hands on your hips as you cocked an eyebrow at the narrow space between him and the armrest. 

“I have caught you checking out my ass enough times, Verstappen, you know it’s not going to fit there,” you said with a smirk. 

An annoyed humph came from beyond the flames and Charles started to push Charlotte to her feet. “I’ll get you a seat.”

“She can sit here,” Max reiterated as he spread his legs back to get comfortable in his chair and patted his thigh.

“Mate…”

“Such a gentleman.” You turned on your heel, meeting the furious Monegasque whose eyes reflected the fire that was burning within him too. You held his steely gaze as you lowered yourself down onto Max’s lap, feeling the form fitting dress that barely covered your thighs ride even higher. 

“I didn’t think so many of you guys would actually be here,” you said as you draped an arm over Max’s shoulder to help balance on your perch. His arm curled around your back so his hand rested lazily on your hip and his eyes darted to Charles, the blue hue almost screaming at him, ‘what a fool’. 

“I only came for you,” Max admitted as he tore his eyes away to look at you. Those eyes narrowed and he brushed he cupped your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You’re wearing makeup. Why?”

You frowned, wondering if maybe the makeup artist had done a terrible job and Max shook his head. “You look beautiful,” he assured you as he saw the worry-lines crease your forehead. “You always look beautiful, but you don’t need makeup, schat.”

 You didn’t correct him on the endearment and he seemed to take it as a victory as his smile grew wider. Maybe you would have reminded him of the rules on friendship before the interruption, or maybe you would have just tucked the wayward strand of dirty blonde hair back where it had fallen over his face. 

“I’m glad you made it,” Seb said, breaking the tension as he leaned over a cooler and offered a bottle of Jagermeister. “You look like you could use this.”

“Thanks,” you chuckled as you cracked the cap off. “You could have given me a little more information about this ‘party’.”

“Where is the fun in that?” Kimi muttered to himself as he sipped vodka from a teacup. The white china and blue glaze depicted an ancient scene and you stared at it as you took a swig straight from the bottle. Disgust screwed up your face at the taste before shivering, making both of the older men laugh. 

“Ugh, I’ll take the rocket fuel please.” You didn’t give Kimi a chance to pull away as you stole the teacup and handed him the dark green bottle instead, though you were sure with those driver reflexes he could have moved if he wanted to. “That’s better,” you sighed as you tasted the drink to find it was a vodka lemonade mix. “I thought you would drink this stuff straight.”

“I’m not Russian,” he said as he jutted his chin across to Daniil who was in fact drinking pure vodka with Daniel, though the latter was coughing thanks to it. Reaching into the cooler, glass and ceramic clattered before he settled back into his foldout lawn chair with another china teacup that you didn’t bother to question.

Conversations between the drivers flowed, voices cresting and receding with the topics they were passionate about. Your stomach sloshed with alcohol and your body relaxed against Max’s, his smile growing when you rested your cheek on his head as you listened to him talk about the first thing he would do when the restrictions were lifted. It was to go to his friend’s concert, Martin Garrix to be specific.

“No fucking way,” Pierre laughed. “Not this again!”

You lifted your head and peered across the circle to where George and Alex were arguing over the suggested game of Truth or Dare.

“What are you? Prepubescent teenagers?” you teased as Alex took a pro-stance on playing. 

“No, Lando only looks it,” George joked.

“Hey!” The young McLaren driver spluttered with an indignant laugh. “Rude.”

“Leave little Lando alone. He got his first pube just last week,” Daniel chimed in before adding, “I’ll play. Max?”

Max shrugged with a quiet, “Sure.”

Alex grinned wider and elbowed George. “See, it’s fun.”

The younger half of the drivers around the circle started the game, daring each other to do silly little things that their PR teams would frown at or confiding the secrets they answered for a truth. Your ribs hurt from laughing until Daniel called your name. 

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you replied just so you didn’t have to get up from your cosy spot on Max’s lap. 

“Have you kissed a driver here?”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed on you through the flames and you grinned at Daniel as you combed your fingers into the short hair at Max’s nape. “Yes.”

“Who?” Daniel looked at Max, Pierre and Charles before returning to Max.

Your head tipped back with a laugh. “That’s not how the game works, Danny. It’s not your turn anymore. It’s mine. Max?”

“Hmm, yes?” he hummed as he looked into your eyes.

“Truth or dare?”

He debated the option for a moment before exhaling. “Dare.”

“I dare you to take me out.”

“You didn’t need a game for that,” he chuckled. “When?”

“Breakfast, tomorrow.” You leaned in and brushed your lips over his cheeks that flushed pink an instant after you whispered in his ear. “We could even make it breakfast in bed.”

You hadn’t noticed Charles had left his seat until you heard his voice beside you, plonking himself down on the cooler while he sparked up a pointless conversation with Seb. 

“Charles, truth or dare?” Max asked, noticing how still your body went and the stiffening of your spine. 

Charles turned slowly, his eyes drifting over the space where your body met Max’s and a sneer tugged at his lips. “I don’t play childish games.”

“Just the adult kind, right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said with that innocent smile that had fooled you. 

“Of course you don’t.” Max turned his attention to the fire pit and the woman sitting on her own, attempting to hold an air of carefree relaxation despite her gaze always returning to you with a scowl. “Charlotte, truth or dare?”

“Max.” You jumped at the sharp bite to Charles’ reprimand but Max didn’t even glance his way as he waited for the woman to choose.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to finish Kyvat’s drink.”

Pierre’s teammate grinned as he offered the tumbler that was half full of vodka. To give her credit, she only winced with the first swallow but she downed the spirit and cocked an eyebrow that challenged Max, is that all you have for me?

A cruel smile tipped up and she licked the drop of alcohol that clung to her lips, the burn of the vodka quickly hitting her veins and travelling to her head. “My turn.”

Charles abandoned his conversation when Charlotte called your name and the slight shake of his head warned you not to answer. 

But he had pissed you off.

“Truth.”

The choice echoed around the circle as everyone fell silent. Pressure brewed like a lightning storm approaching and everyone felt the charged atmosphere.

Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them, staring you dead in the eye as she found the courage she had been missing for months. “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend?”

Max’s fingers stopped drawing abstract circles on your hip and Charles burst to his feet. “Charlotte!”

“What? It’s just a game, Cha,” she replied with a bland look of boredom. 

“It’s not appropria-”

“3 years,” you cut him off, your eyes never leaving hers. If she wanted the truth then she could have it. “The 8th of August 2017, if you want to count the precise days.”

“What?” Confused murmurs broke around the fire.

“Oh, shit,” Pierre laughed as he looked closer at you then to his friend who had frozen still. “She’s that chick you hooked up with at Jimmyz?”

Charles dragged a hand down his face but ended it with a nod before turning to his girlfriend. “It was before us, mon amour.” 

The way he said it made it appear it was only before they got together, ever the liar, and even you rolled your eyes.

“So you two…and your parents…” Kimi whistled before keeping his mouth busy with a drink. He was quietly enjoying the brimming heat too much for someone nicknamed the Iceman.

“My father was out getting a haircut-“

“-at my mother’s salon-“

“-when we met. I guess they kept in contact after we left.”

Charles turned his attention to Charlotte but she was already storming her way across the field. With a sigh, he made his way after her and you wondered if it was finally the day that you had been holding out for, the one where she would dump him. 

“She should have asked when you last fucked him.” The words were a whisper in your ear as everyone else returned to their own conversations, the game clearly over, but you knew those conversations were about you. Max sensed your discomfort, though even a blind man would have been able to see it. “Want to get out of here?”

“You still want to go somewhere with me?” It seemed unbelievable that he hadn’t thrown you off his lap.

“Everyone has a history,” Max said with a shrug. “I don’t care about your past…just your future.”

You left without a goodbye under the watchful eye of Seb but you didn’t miss the elbow George gave Alex, muttering sarcastically, “Oh yeah, let’s play truth or dare, he said, it will be fun, he said.”

“I didn’t know that was going to happen.” The angry whisper of a reply followed your departure and it seemed Alex was the only one too innocent to see what had been in front of them all along. 

Charles' car was already missing from the makeshift parking lot and you slipped into the passenger seat of Max’s Aston Martin before he closed the door for you. 

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know, can we just drive? I feel like a fucking idiot,” you laughed bitterly. All the memories made with Charles seemed to crumble like sandcastles with the tide as you remembered how he had chased after her. He always did, and it seemed he always would. Actions screamed louder than words. “He’s really not who I thought he was.”

“I’ve known Charles most of his life and I don’t think he even knows who he is,” Max said as he laced his fingers with yours and headed to the city. “Are you hungry?”

“No, but I have a full mini bar that is getting billed to Charles. Want to help me empty it?”

Max shared a conspiratorial grin as he headed to the hotel and when you walked past Charles’ room down the hall, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. 

“What are you doing?” Max asked with a laugh as you hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the front door. You closed the door and leant against it, Max’s eyes following the curve of the Chanel dress, down the length of your legs to the Prada shoes and back up to the Bvlgari diamond necklace that accentuated the valley of your breasts.

“Making sure this party doesn’t get crashed.” 

—

It was a miracle there had been no complaint made as you turned the stereo up and pretended you knew how to mix drinks. 

“Max!” You fell into a fit of laughter as he poured four of the miniature gin bottles into the cocktail shaker, adding it to the three bottles of vodka you had put in. “That is pure alcohol.” 

He shook the container and poured the clear liquid into two glasses, spilling some as he reached the same level of drunkenness as you. “No, it’s just water. Here, taste it.” He tipped his glass back, his face pinching before he blew out a burst of burning air from his throat and spluttered a cough. “Mhmm, good water that.”

“You’re trying to get me drunk,” you shouted over the pounding in your head, but you knocked the drink back anyway. 

“You’re already drunk,” he countered, dropping into the couch and pulling you down with him. Empty bottles littered the coffee table and the dining table, the expensive mini bar almost empty. “I’m just keeping you that way.”

You settled on his lap and fingered the dirty blonde hair that was longest at the top of his head. “Is that so you can have your way with me?”

His eyes danced over your body, lingering on your thighs as your dress barely covered them. “No, schat,” he said with a small shake of his head as he cupped your face. “When I have you I want you to know that you chose me, clear headed and completely sober. Even if I really just want to fucking kiss you right now.”

You drew your lip between your teeth at the thought and his blue eyes darkened with envy. “We could just kiss?” you suggested as you shifted to straddle his hips.

“I don’t think it would be that easy to just stop there.”

“Fine.” Your hands stroked the column of his neck, feeling the cords of muscle that tensed under your touch before you traced his collarbones with your thumbs. “Truth or dare?”

He inhaled sharply and tipped his head back, watching intently as you popped the first button on his shirt and opened the collar wider. He didn't appear to breathe as you kissed the hollow at the base of his throat. He exhaled, knowing what you wanted to hear, “Dare.”

Your teeth grazed his racing pulse and he shuddered beneath you before you pulled back. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Perhaps it took having the flame of Charles extinguished for you to feel the spark of Max because this time when he pulled you close and captured you with a kiss you felt that spark ignite. 

—

You looked around the parking lot seeing all the other mothers dropping their children off for the first day of school. They all kissed their kids on the cheeks after a tight hug and said their goodbyes, complete with teary I love you’s. Confused, you frowned at the large hand that gripped your school bag and followed the arm up to your father. 

“Daddy, why isn’t my mummy here?”

He had known the question was coming, he just didn’t think it would be from his five year old. He thought he had more time to prepare as he dropped to one knee and held your hands. “Your mother was sick and she needed to leave so she could get better.”

“But she never came back.”

“Sometimes, that’s what’s for the best.” He kissed your forehead and draped your backpack over your shoulders, the weight more than just the lunchbox and books it carried. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“I will always be here for you, pumpkin.”

You woke in a cold sweat and felt the haunting thought the dream had inspired linger in your brain as you slipped out of the sheets. Beside you, Max slept soundly with one hand buried under a pillow and the other stretched across the bed as if he was searching for you. 

You didn’t regret sleeping with Max, though part of you felt he surely would, and you watched his back rise and fall a few times as you dressed. You were busy trying to write a note, tearing off each piece that failed to convey what you wanted to say and balling it up, that you didn’t hear Max’s footsteps. You jumped in surprise as his hands came to rest on your hips and his lips teased the same sweet spot beneath your ear that he had found last night. 

“Going somewhere?” he asked as he saw your bags by the door and he saw the latest attempt of a note. Max, thank you for last night. How about a raincheck on our-

“I think it's time to go home,” you admitted as you turned in his arms and draped yours around his neck. “Because the next time we do this, I want you to know that I chose you, clear headed and completely sober.”

He chuckled, surprised you could remember what he said. Then his own hungover haze lifted and he realised what else you said. “Next time?”

“I still want you to take me to breakfast,” you assured him with a smile. “How about you call me when you’re back in Monaco?”

“It’s a date.” He tipped your head back and kissed you with the same passion that left your toes curling and your body warmed with the memory of how that kiss had led to much more last night. But Max was sober and more in control of himself as he reluctantly broke away first.  “Do you want me to take you to the airport?”

“No, thank you, I’m going to drive back. Take a bit of time to myself and figure my shit out.”

Max frowned. “You don’t have a car.”

“Yet,” you said with a wink. “But if the offer for a ride is still on the table…there is somewhere you can drop me off.”

—

Charles woke to a call from his bank and he swallowed deeply as he listened to the request to release $250k to a dealership. There was only one reason you would buy a car and the thought left him feeling empty as the bed he woke up alone in. It was a surprise there was no noise complaint after the argument he had with Charlotte, the one where he snapped and broke things off. She had left in a rage and he didn’t have the decency to ask where she went. 

He had gone to your room, his feet carrying him light on a breeze as he finally had what he wanted. But then he had seen the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and heard your laughter sneak through the panel of wood that separated him from where he should have been. 

Sitting up in bed, he wiped away the tears that had dried on his cheeks overnight. 

“Yes, allow the payment to proceed,” he muttered, though the sound of his voice was no longer one he recognised. 

Charles: Drive safe, ma biche x You: I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you in person.  Charles: I guess I deserved that.

Click here for the final chapter.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #max verstappen imagine #f1 x reader

[pilot-boi]

Pilot, I know you primarily bully Jaune. But would you mind having a go at Papa Arc talking to the Vacuo mural?

Orion Arc is not a hero, even though his son always thought he was. He’s just a man who loves his family and tries his best to do right by them.

So it’s more than a little strange standing there, in front of a mural of his own son’s face. His boy immortalized and honored in ways Orion could never dream of.

His son looks like a stranger.

“Mr. Branwen thought it might help to talk to ya.” Orion’s hand brushes over the palm prints of countless children, all paying their respect to his boy. “Don’t see much point, ain’t gonna bring you back.”

His son watches him, all quiet confidence and bravery. A true warrior, a hero. Where is his brash anxious son who begged to join the Huntsman Academies? How much of his son did he lose when Jaune finally left home? Somewhere along the way his boy grew into a man and he wasn’t there to help him.

“Your uh…” He clears his throat. “Your mother misses you.” And it sounds pathetic even as he says it. Even in front of a facsimile of his son he can’t say what he needs to.

“She was beside herself when you didn’t come back from Haven.” So was he, even more so than his wife. Orion paced the house for days, worry driving him to throw himself into work, into anything that would take his mind off the attack and the fate of his boy. “We were so relieved to hear from Saph about you and your friends.”

His friends. A group of seven that from all accounts Jaune grew closer to than even his sisters. Orion glances up at the others in the mural. Four of which fell alongside his boy, and the other three were left grieving.

Ren, Nora, and Oscar, he remembers them being called. He never thought he’d see his grief echoed in faces so young.

“As soon as we saw the broadcast, your mother was packin’ our bags.” Orion chuckles. “You shoulda seen her, she was fixin’ to march up to the General herself and teach him a lesson. If I ever wondered where you got your fire, I got my answer.”

His face falls, crumpling like paper. “And I triedta douse that fire.” How many times did he tell Jaune it was okay if he failed? How many times did he refuse to train him? How many times did he let his fear guide him to crush his son’s dreams?

“When you walked into the livin’ room with your transcripts in hand sayin’ you were gonna be a Huntsman whether I wanted it or not, why…” His eyes are stinging. If there’s anything his son inherited from him, it’s his tendency for emotions to live near the surface. “Why that was the proudest day of my life.”

He’d never been more proud. Never. His boy standing there with those papers clutched in his fist, and a defiant look on his face. “I won’t let you down.” Jaune had said.

You could never let me down. It’s what he should’ve said. Why didn’t he just say it?

Orion scrubs the heel of his hand into his eyes. It does nothing to stop the flow of tears. “Did I ever once tell ya how proud I am of you?” His voice is cracking and hitching, but if he stops talking now Orion knows he’ll never start again.

“You’re so brave and you don’t quit when things get tough. I saw how hurt you were after the Fall of Beacon, but you just got right back on that horse.” His baby boy, the most caring and most stubborn of all his children. Strapping the family sword back onto his hip because “Somebody has to, dad.”

Letters where it’s clear his boy isn’t saying half the trouble, but he’s saying enough that they know what trouble is. Hearing about the attack on Haven, a week and a half of terror. Saphron sending word that Jaune made it to Argus.

And then nothing. Nothing until the broadcast from Miss Rose.

Packing in a whirlwind, sending the girls to stay with Saphron. Renting the first available airship to Vacuo and contending with his wife’s motion sickness. By the time they got there, they were met halfway by a near armada.

But no Jaune.

Orion’s hand rests on Jaune’s painted cheek. A child’s hand against the larger-than-life hero his boy grew into when he wasn’t there.

Did he ever tell his son how much he loves him?

“Come back to us,” Orion begs, no longer trying to stem the flow of tears. Why bother? His son isn’t here to see them.

#rwby #jaune arc #papa arc #mine #asks #my writing #freshmiraclecheesecake #healing rust au

[maybe-i-dreamt-u]

I did not realise how much I had missed Neil until those last few pages. Oh my God Nora I am once again begging for an andrew pov on a bit of aftg

#whys he kinda.. #aftg #tsc spoilers

[cultofsappho]

Last Lines/First Lines

ty for the tag @jesuisici33 this is such a cute trend!!

once again, brevity is not a skill I am familiar with when it comes to tag games. my writing requires context!! i hate short clips!! but, at least i'm still working on the same spiderman wip, so here's to sticking with one project at a time.

Last Lines written in 2023:

“Put your hands in the air, where we can see them, Spider-Man!” He says into the megaphone. “Just listen to me-!” Alex yells, voice cracking, but complys and raises his palms. “On the ground. Now!” He throws the megaphone aside as he steps closer, and raises his own NYPD-issued pistol. “I’m trying to help you!” Alex begs instead of getting to his knees. “Open fire!” Alex dodges the bullets by the skin of his teeth.

First Lines written in 2024:

“The police opened fire on Alex.” She says, Henry can hear typing in the background.  “What?!” “He fucked up.” Clearly, Henry thinks. “But according to Nora, he’s alive and on the move. She’s here, tracking him.” “Okay.” Henry takes a deep breath, staring at his desk and feeling lost. “What do we do?” “I’m working on it.” Nora says in the background after June switches the call to speakerphone. 

FINALLY getting around to the guy-in-the-chair!Nora who's only been hinted at so far.

suprisingly enough, this is as spoiler-free as I can possibly be for this wip.... idk what that says about the direction this is going in.

zero pressure tagging: @affectionatelyrs @14carrotghoul @inexplicablymine @daisymae-12 @cha-melodius @kiwiana-writes @happiness-of-the-pursuit @ships-to-sail @sherryvalli @zwiazdziarka @myheartalivewrites @cosmicalart and open tag to anyone looking to share what they've been working on!!

#spiderman au #writing #rwrb #firstprince #tag game

[cattatonically]

Book Lovers - Emily Henry

Synopsis

One summer. Two rivals. A plot twist they didn’t see coming….

Nora Stephens’ life is books—she’s read them all—and she is not that type of heroine. Not the plucky one, not the laidback dream girl, and especially not the sweetheart. In fact, the only people Nora is a heroine for are her clients, for whom she lands enormous deals as a cutthroat literary agent, and her beloved little sister Libby.

Which is why she agrees to go to Sunshine Falls, North Carolina for the month of August when Libby begs her for a sisters’ trip away—with visions of a small-town transformation for Nora, who she’s convinced needs to become the heroine in her own story. But instead of picnics in meadows, or run-ins with a handsome country doctor or bulging-forearmed bartender, Nora keeps bumping into Charlie Lastra, a bookish brooding editor from back in the city. It would be a meet-cute if not for the fact that they’ve met many times and it’s never been cute.

If Nora knows she’s not an ideal heroine, Charlie knows he’s nobody’s hero, but as they are thrown together again and again—in a series of coincidences no editor worth their salt would allow—what they discover might just unravel the carefully crafted stories they’ve written about themselves.

My Thoughts

My mother watches an ungodly amount of Hallmark movies. My ex-husband has worked on an ungodly amount of Hallmark movies. Suffice it to say, I know my Hallmark movies, their tropes, and what they’re all about.

What Book Lovers does is take ever clichéd Hallmark trope, and shred it to unrecognizable pieces. And honestly, that is the best thing that this book could have done.

I knew I loved Nora from the beginning. I knew that whatever happened in the book, I would always be in her corner. And I’m so glad I was.

I also knew that I would adore Charlie Lastra. And I did. Undoubtedly.

Despite some plot aspects that I did not like – I am never a fan of a character being forced to say yes to something they don’t want to do as a plot device – the characters more than made up for that, and kept my interest. I was rooting for Nora and Charlie from the prologue to the epilogue.

I just truly adored them as characters. They were unapologetically honest – most of the time – and never once did they try to be anything but themselves around each other. And honestly, it was refreshing.

This whole book was extremely refreshing. This book took contemporary romance, and revitalized it. It took classic romance tropes, said “not today, Satan”, and, in my not so humble opinion, breathed new life into a tired, predictable genre. Nothing about this book went the way I thought it would, and I love that so much.

Whatever transformation is happening with the romance genre the last couple years, I’m here for it. And if that means reading more Emily Henry, well, I’m certainly not complaining.

#Book review #Book Lovers #Emily Henry #Catt reads #Catt's life in books

[because-she-goes]

sparks

warnings: smut, piv, mdni, dirty talk, swearing, praise kink, mutual aftercare. Enjoy!

notes: big thanks to @byyourside28 for the help w/ this and giving some pointers lol

March 7th, 2015

“Dearest Downey,

I should start by saying the following: My heart has longed for you every second since I have left you for this tour. It hasn’t stopped begging and pleading with me to be near you. My skin has been burning to touch yours again, to feel your lips against my own. I am truly lonely for the first time probably ever, only knowing loneliness in the juvenile sense up until now, I have come to understand that I can not possibly exist without you in my life, Nora. It is currently about 4pm in Rome and it is bitterly cold, rainy and windy. A perfect picture of my emotional state, drowning without you. Two teenagers across from me are currently making out in the rain, totally oblivious to the rest of the world. Oh how I wish I could have you near me and do the same. The sound of rain and thunder fills the space around me. I am freezing cold, your personality normally being like a space heater in my life - oozing joy and warmth until everyone around you is doing the same. My cigarette has now gone soggy in the ashtray in front of me, wine glass I was sipping from now dotted with raindrops. Nora, you are the only thing in my life I well and truly miss at the moment - I miss waking up to you getting dressed, handing me a mug of tea, kissing my forehead and whispering an “I love you, Handsome” before breezing out the door to get to your studio leaving me breathless. Sometimes I think you are supernatural or otherworldly, something beyond the human capability to love and care for others. I can’t wait for those mornings again, my love. The notion that I may have them for infinity is a dizzying idea and I can only pray to whatever angel brought you to me that the idea becomes a reality. See you soon, my love.

All my love,

Handsome.”

Nora cried as she read the letter. She had only been officially dating Matty for a few months, but they were inseparable. Always talking, texting, calling or sending little pictures of their days - this was the first time they had properly been apart. She had read and reread the letter dozens of times by now, but each time it made her well up with tears. She missed him terribly, but luckily the tour had come to an end and he was already on the flight back to her in New York. Her heart fluttered at the idea of having him in her apartment again, his smell filling the rooms, flannels hanging in her closet, shoes by the door. She couldn’t wait. Admittedly, she was going a bit stir crazy and had been running around all day buying wine he liked, ingredients for his favorite dinner, fresh sheets and blankets and also lots of candles for her dining table where she set up a romantic dinner for two once he arrived. This was her first big night to impress him as his girlfriend and she was buzzing.

Speaking of buzzing, her phone vibrated on the counter as she sipped some water hoping to calm her nerves.

“Let me up, Angel. - Handsome xx”

Her throat letting out a mix between a squeal and scream, she ran then calmly walked to her door - not wanting to seem too eager to hold him, kiss him, have him again. Her beautiful dress flowed behind her, the purple hue complimenting her skin and hair wonderfully. Within milliseconds of the door being cracked open, his face illuminated and his arms wrapped around her waist pulling her further into the apartment, door left open haphazardly.

“Missed you, Honey.” He breathlessly admitted into her done up hair. His spicy woodsy scent absorbing her senses. God, she missed this. He pressed a kiss to her temple before taking her face in his hands and stepping back a bit to admire her.

A sparkle in her eye, “Missed you too, Handsome.” She goes to quickly close the door, not wanting any onlookers. On her return to him, another kiss to her mouth, sweet yet desperate. They each were trying to communicate all the unsaid things, how much they needed each other, how if the other was to actually go away they would break down, how they were the other person’s half. His lips moved languidly against hers, tongue swirling around hers, teeth gnashing together as things became more intense and heated.

“Dinner first, love.” She reminded him of their plan, once they separated for air. She ushered him over to the table, getting him a glass of the Malbec she had on ice. Getting the roast chicken and vegetables out of the oven and plating it delicately for him, she felt her body being watched. His eyes tracking her every move in fondness, he couldn’t believe she was his, that he had actually done it and gotten her. A calm, content exhale left his lungs as she walked over to him with the plates of food.

It was the best roast dinner he had ever tasted, perfectly cooked. Chicken was savory and not dried out, and the vegetables were lovely and a bit sweet. “Honey glazed!” He remembers her comment about them when she had texted him what she planned to make a few days ago. God, he could eat her cooking for the rest of his life.

Once dinner had been eaten and her famous lemon cake served, they had found their way into the bedroom. He was laying in bed in his boxers and not much else, she however was getting ready in the en suite. He could see her reflection in the mirror from where he was, now able to fully take her in and how wonderful she looked even without makeup, after cooking for god knows how long and running errands all day. Her jawline sharp enough to cut glass, bright cinnamon eyes twinkled in the lights, cheeks flushed with a rosy-peach hue when she caught him staring at her. Closing the door, wanting to keep her surprise hidden. She slipped out of her dress and into the red silk bra and panties set her friend had helped her purchase a few weeks ago when he finally sent her the information about his flight home. The red bow resting between her cleavage, she straightened it nervously one last time before stepping out.

When he sees her, Matty’s heart drops to his stomach, his brain clears, and all the blood rushing down his body. “Oh fuck.” He mutters, jaw hanging open.

She was unreal—a dream.

“All for me, princess?” He asks as she stands at the foot of their bed. She pulls a knee up to the mattress and crawls up to her side of the bed, and she nods victoriously at his flabbergasted state.

The ‘M’ necklace he had gotten for her for Valentine's Day that year was hanging from her neck, the gold catching the soft mood lighting of their room. “Downey you are-“

“I know, trust me, I know.” She laughs next to him. “Before we start, I just want to clarify it to you. Matty, I want you. Forever and ever. This separation has only made me realize just how deeply I need you like a fire needs gasoline to ignite. Like the ocean needs the moon for the tides.” She confesses, still slightly nervous about revealing all of this to him.

He sighs, his head dropping back as her words overwhelm him like a wave. “Oh darling, I’ve felt that way every minute since I first looked into your eyes” The butterflies in her stomach were now running rampant.

“Fuck, Matty… I need you.” Her eyes are now as dark as his hair, lips flushed from nervously biting them.

“Downey, I’m yours.” He whispers, his voice thick with emotion, and his hand reaches up to cup her cheek and kisses her hungrily.

His hips followed and landed above hers, enveloping her. Her eyes close, wanting to freeze the moment and kiss him forever. Her skin was smooth and warm against his, the scent of her coffee and vanilla perfume surrounding him.

His hand finds her hip, and he shutters at the feel of the silk gliding against his touch. “Can I take these off of you, love?” His voice is delicate and sincere, yet full of hunger. He takes a moment to admire how his hand looks against the red silk, veins and knuckles creating rough angles against the smooth texture of the silk. His pale complexion creating a beautiful contrast against the deep red hue.

“Yes, Matty. Please take yours off too. Wanna feel you.” She whimpers under him, the heat growing with every waking moment between her thighs.

He takes off his boxers and then quickly works on the lingerie, whispering sweet nothings in her ear to reassure her that she is a goddess to him.

His hand moves to the apex of her thighs, feeling her eagerness. “So good for me, Angel. Always so ready.” He groans as his fingertips draw tight tiny circles on her clit. “Want me, Nor? I’ve been dreaming of this since I left.”

“Yes, Matt, please.” She begs, “W-Want you to fill m-me up so good!” Her hips came off the mattress as her back arches. He lines himself up with her and slowly makes his way in - eyes searching hers for any pain or discomfort, taking things at her pace. So he doesn’t overwhelm her.

“Oh fuck, I’ve missed you!” Matty moans as he bottoms out, feeling his hips meet her thighs. “Ready for me to move?”

“Matt, move for me, please. Need it. Need you.” She groans, feeling full as her hips grind against him, aching for any type of friction. He first moves cautiously, then once he sees the pleasure in her face grow, he throws all the caution to the wind.

Now, at a steady pace, Matty feels her clenching around him. His breath caught in his throat at the erotic sounds of their centers colliding.

“Feel so good, baby. So, fucking perfect. Like you were made for me, Nor.” He praises her sweetly as her eyes roll back and her hips buckle. His hand reaches between them and pinches her nipple with his thumb and forefinger—the way he knows she likes.

“Fuck, Handsome! God, you are gonna make me cum so quick if you keep at that.” She warns.

“Yeah, Nora? Gonna cum for me baby?” He taunts, “You sound so pretty talking so filthy. Love it.” He groans as his climax grows with each thrust. His stomach tightened with each whimper and moan that fell from her lips.

“Oh fuck, Matthew– I’m gonna fucking cum any second if you start with that cocky shit.” She moans. Her body was writhing in pleasure, her skin now covered with a thin layer of sweat. She said his name like it was a sacred hymn.

“Thats it, Nora! Cum for me, angel. Wanna feel you cum on me.” He said hers like it was gospel scripture.

“God, Yes! Feels so good Matthew!!” Her body shutters as her orgasm gripped him. She clenched around him as her walls tightened like a warm glove.

He closed his eyes, savoring each and every feeling he felt as his body reacted to hers. He lost himself within himself as her body became a part of his, physically and emotionally.

He rolls back onto his side, both panting next to each other and trying to catch their breaths. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Nora.” He whispers into the air, truth spilling out of him.

“Matthew, I’m never gonna love anyone else.” She replies, breath still shaky.

Once they’ve relaxed, he goes to the little mini fridge she keeps in the room and grabs water and granola bars. He hands her the snacks and gets a warm wet washcloth from the bathroom.

“Gotta clean you, baby okay? I’ll be quick, and then we can get you some nice warm pajamas.” She gives him a loving nod, this being her favorite part of spending nights with Matty. This caring side of him comes out after, suddenly, his demeanor goes from stiff and rough to soft and sweet.

He takes the cloth and cleans up any mess. He gently kisses her knee for reassurance and hands her a clean, cotton pair of white underwear. Her comfort and relaxation came first in his mind. He then gives her a pair of his sweatpants she likes, and an oversized tee shirt. He even goes as far as brushing her hair back into a loose bun, placing another kiss along her hairline. She munches sleepily on the granola and finishes the water bottle.

“Thank You, Handsome. Too sweet to me.” A yawn leaves her body. “And you’re okay? Want me to grab the essential oils you like?” Her eyes looked to his, sensing the shift in his brain chemistry that could happen to either of them.

“Yeah actually, that’d be lovely.” She sits up, leaning over to reach into her bedside table and fishes around for the small bottle. She placed some oil on her wrists, then delicately took his wrist and did the same. She kisses his hands as she does so.

“Goodnight, Matthew. Sweet dreams, it's good to have you finally home.” She whispers as her head hits the pillow, her eyes closing softly as her breaths even out.

“Couldn't agree more, Nora. Good to be home.” He says as he also falls asleep, arm resting over her waist. He sighs contentedly. He could die happy knowing he had Nora in his life, that he had been blessed by her presence.

#Spotify #drew’s writing :) #matty x nora #THEYRE BACK!! #matty healy #the 1975 #lol GOOD AFTERNOON EVERYONE #an encounter

[erebosblue]

welcome to literally I haven't even finished a fic for this fandom yet and I'm gonna yell into the void about a ship anyway.

I do not understand why Yatoma is a rarepair?????

sure sure Kaz, (just get used to me calling him Kaz that's what I default to at this point,) is canonically in love with Bishamon and Yato and Hiyori are love interests even if I don't like that ship. but like??? when has that ever stopped shippers before?

I do like Bishamon and Kaz in a lot of ways, but y'all are sleeping on Yatoma and I will not let that stand.

(also: I am pretty aware of what happens in the manga but I'm still catching up so pardon mistakes I'm just silly little guy with Opinions.™️)

Yato and Kaz is such a beautiful and tragic love story. even more so than the other ships that involve either one of them.

Kaz is a guy who's loyal to a fault. he will do anything in his power to keep those he loves safe and this often works to his detriment. he's betrayed Bishamon multiple times because he wants to protect her. Kaz will do anything and everything to save his loved ones no matter what happens to him.

he gets killed? fine by him.

he becomes a Nora? as long as Veena has justice, he will do it. he will beg for it.

Kaz's extreme loyalty can even make him seem untrustworthy in a divine sense of irony. not just when it's being used against him for a plan to kill Bishamon.

Kaz's loyalty is something that can only end in pain for him because he just doesn't value himself. he is a tool to help his God(s) and nothing more.

and then there's Yato. someone can seem extremely noncommittal not by choice, but by circumstance. because the thing is, once you have a place in Yato's heart, he doesn't want to let go.

but he is forced to over and over again. he is forced to release Shinki because they think he's unreliable because he just dips sometimes and no one knows why.

he cares so deeply about the people close to him but it doesn't seem that way because

he doesn't know how to properly communicate that and

he keeps everything close to his chest out of fear.

Yato would do fucking anything to keep everyone safe and even die for them even though he is terrified about ceasing to exist.

Kaz is ready to die because he thinks that it's just the natural progression of his use and Yato is ready to die because he thinks it's the one good thing he can do.

but that's not quite it. Yato didn't want to die, he was trying to get his name out there so that he wouldn't die, but once it became clear there was no time, he accepted death because killing Father means more that continued existence.

this could be false, but just from what I've seen and been able to read between the lines of, Yato was always going to kill Father once he realized that he wanted to be better after Sakura, but he didn't want to die and never come back.

it was a waiting game. one that Father won out because Yato's name is still unknown.

but Yato is okay with that as long as he's free for maybe just a minute and everyone else is safe. everyone that made him truly happy.

okay, okay, but why does any of that mean Kaz and Yato are a good ship?

because they are tragically similar and drawn to each other.

Yato was Kaz's beginning and Kaz is Yato's end. Yato is the reason why Kaz is a Blessed Vessel and Kaz is what allowed Yato to go on the suicide mission that is fighting Father.

Yato is a God that barely feels like a God with all the chains around him. how little he was allowed to know. how much of his life was determined by a man that should, by all means, be beneath him but isn't.

Kaz is a Shinki that keeps falling in love with Gods (/p or /r) and is hurdling towards self-destruction as he tries to keep all his loyalties in order. a Shinki that has much more power of his Gods than any Shinki should. because Bishamon is emotionally reliant on him and Yato needs/needed him to protect him. (I'm not saying Kaz is manipulative. he's not.)

Yato and Kaz are God and Shinki in labels but reading their interactions it never feels like that typical master-Shinki relationship because it's not. they never have been that and never will be.

Kaz demeans his own feelings because "Gods can never love humans" and Yato does because he's afraid.

Kazune and Kazuma are distinctly different because Yato brings out a piece of Kaz that is much less strict and more,,, human. Bishamon and Kaz are always going to be limited by the fact that Kaz views her as above him. sure, he views Yato as above him too, but it's a lot less blatant. he talks to Yato with an ease that we don't see a lot.

Kaz is a very deliberate man. he rarely talks without purpose and intent. his words have to mean something for him to say anything. but it's different with Yato because they are different together.

Yukine might be Yato's guidepost and Blessed Vessel, but Yato is too parental over him to do some of the things he does with Kaz. because Kaz is his friend. not his kid.

this is getting way too long, but I just have a lot to say okay?

Yato and Kaz are the definition of Star-Crossed Lovers because no matter what they will end up apart. Kaz's first loyalty is to Bishamon and Yato was always going to die trying to be free. they're God and Shinki. two Noras (I'm counting Yato as something like a Nora,) fighting back against someone who hurt them and then they will separate. back to their true masters. Bishamon and lady death herself.

#yatoma #noragami yato #noragami #kazuma noragami #noragami kazuma #kazune #bishamon #I have a lot of thoughts #and I analyze characters too much #I didn't even say everything I have to say about this ship but- #I think this is enough for right now #norgami spoilers

[spahhzy]

Of Moonbases, Grimm Queens, Thrill parks and Grandschemes. part 1.

Ya know if Yang had to admit there was something awfully cathartic about killing grimm on some moonbase that your once sane sister built...oh wait did she mention moon base?

Yeah, Ruby took all of them from the abandoned temple after getting some stupid stone. So now she has a rock and a golden rod, Yang didn't know what Ruby's insane scheme was but at this moment it didn't matter, she was having so much fun killing grimm in a space suit...in Zero GRAVITY!

Yang: Blake tell me you are having as much fun as I am killing grimm on the moon!?

Blake: Not really...ya know trying to save remnant and all from a crazed grimm queen.

Weiss: That's right Yang...duty first then fun...

Nora: I beg to differ! It's fun to see grimm go woosh into the blackness of space!

Blake: Pretty homicidal of you Nora.

Ren: She just having pancake withdrawals it has been some time though.

Yang: aside from that has any one seen Rubes?

All of them pointed to Ruby who was fiddling with her golden rod and st9ne while giggling.

Ruby: (ya know if this all fails I can build a thrill park here! Ruby Rose's Space adventure or something cool like that!)

Yang: Hey Ruby! You got the scary look in your eye again! What are we supposed to do now!?

Ruby: ah Yang my dear sweet simple minded sister we must first complete a series of convoluted multi-part steps to prep the device-

Ren: oh joy.

Ruby: Your sassiness is greatly appreciated Ren my Jaune has rubbed off on you greatly.

Ruby: - but let's go back to the main computer room and ill just enter the master password save me a few more minutes of anticipation.

The group travels back to the main computer of the moon space station as Ruby entered in the master password as suddenly one of the monitors flickered to the weird pyramid device as 4 canisters rose out from the ground.

Ruby: Quick! Back to the pyramid! We shall save the world soon everyone!

The group all traversed back inside the tunnels before finally making their way back to the ominous looking pyramid!

Weiss: Alright you dolt we made it now what next?

This time Ruby was stumped..

Ruby: ahhh I'm not sure hold on I'm thinking...

Blake: Well could you think sooner!?

Blake avoided a slash from one of the grimm before she slashed back decapitating the grimm, but upon its death the grimm didn't fade to ash...more so it's essence went into one of the canisters which Ruby saw.

Ruby: Of course the machine is powered by life force so silly of me I should have remembered that ahahaha~

Yang: What does any of that mean Ruby!?

Yang dodged more Grimm before blasting them to pieces as their essence began filling up.

Ruby: We must kill more!

And so they did, killed every last bit of grimm that came in until finally...

Ruby: excellent! marvelous! Beautiful! Look for a button or switch somewhere and let us confront our tormentor!

Nora: oooh look a switch ! Can I flip it can I can I!

Ruby nodded as Nora whooped before flipping the switch.

Suddenly all the essence that filled the canister up was sucked into the device. Everyone backed away as the device had begun to shake before suddenly the pyramid began to open up.

Their was Salem...a younger Salem, a human Salem, suspended in air glaring angrily at the team below as she caught sight of Ruby the anger magnified.

Ruby, smirking: Hello Salem you little brat, your time is coming...soon...so soon!

Yang: wait? That Salem? What happened to super queen grimm lady from the war and stuff how come she looks ya know human and like a child.

Ruby sighed: It a loooooong and complicated story but just know Jaune managed to give her a restart and it seeeeeeeems like she has wasted it so sad.

Salem: I'LL DESTROY YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID OZZY!

Ruby: Child I will deal with you for good shortly but first we need to do a couple of more things...don't mind her she is crazy! Let's finish this and save the world guys!

#rwby salem #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #nora valkyrie #blake bellodona #lie ren

[bee-writes-stuffs]

dear jack- Crutchie Morris

(Note: Trigger warning for mentions of violence, death, abuse, and suicide.)

Dear Jack,

It’s been a while since my first letter. The guards here ain’t been much nicer to us, but I got a scrap of bread yesterday and things are looking brighter.

How’s the strike been looking so far? I hope we’s close to winning- I’m sure you know how much I miss you and the others.

There’s a boy in here, he’s six years old and his name’s Leo. I told him about you, how you escaped this place on Teddy Roosevelt’s carriage. He wants to escape, too, but it’s impossible. Some guards heard us talking and beat him senseless.

I still don’t have my crutch. I don’t know where they put it, but so far I’m doing fine as long as they don’t make me stand. 

When you come to get me, I wanna head straight to Santa Fe. Once the strike is won and we’re off, we ain’t never coming back, right? We’ll go together, like you said. You and me.

I gotta go, they’s doing roll call.

The end,

-Crutchie

******

Dear Jack,

How are you today? It’s real lonely in here sometimes, even though there’s people all around me. I can’t understand what they’s saying most of the time. It’s like they’s speaking another language.

I got beat real bad yesterday, a little bit after I wrote my last letter. I couldn’t stand up and the guard doing roll call didn’t like that. It was horrible, cause the other kids just stared as I was lying there. But hey, what could they do?

Y’know, at least it doesn’t get any worse than this. 

You’re still coming for me, right? I hasn’t heard any news of the strike yet, whether Kath and Davey helped us win or not. I’m rooting for you. Please, just don’t leave me here. I’m excited to see y’all again.

Remember when we was tiny, and we used to play in the puddles when it rained? Selling was miserable after, but we had so much fun. If I could, I’d take us back to that time, when everything seemed awesome no matter how bad it got. 

By the way, Leo says hi!

Your friend,

-Crutchie

P.S- I’m still holding onto hope for Santa Fe, just so ya know.

******

Dear Jack,

I’m shaking so hard I can’t write.

They killed someone, Jack. Beat him to death right in front of us for crying. 

They’s telling everyone that we ganged up on him and did it ourselves, but I saw it, Jack. I heard him yelling out and begging us to save him. We couldn’t. 

Please, tell me you’re still coming to save me. Damn it, if you were ever my friend, don’t leave me here.

-Crutchie

******

Dear Jack,

You ain’t coming for me, are you?

******

Dear Jack,

I’m sorry to say that I ain’t writing to give you good news.

This is my goodbye, Jack. I’m giving up. It’s getting harder to sit up, and I can’t even try to stand anymore. It’s all beatings and starving, and I can barely hold my damn pencil to write to you. 

I’m gonna start giving Leo the rest of my food. He’s getting weaker by the day (I guess I am too) and I can’t stand watching him get so thin. Any bread or smuggled food I get’s going straight to him. I’ll just wait until it’s my time, which I know won’t be long. The only good part ‘a this is that if I’ve gotta die, at least there’s one kid that won’t.

Good luck on the strike, Jack. Tell the fellas that I love them, okay? Tell them that I’m sorry that I had to do this. It’s not that I’ve lost my resolve- I can feel myself dying, Jack. I know that we promised to go to Santa Fe together, but I’m not gonna make it that long. 

Maybe if I make it home, to wherever Mama and Papa and Nora are, we’ll be able to give ya some sort of sign that we made it. Maybe I’ll get to see you again, who knows? 

I’m sorry. I love you and the boys so much- you’s always been like brothers to me. I’m gonna miss y’all.

Your best friend,

-Crutchie

******

Dear Jack,

So, I guess we did it. We won, despite everything. 

Thanks for getting me outta there. It was hell, Jack, plain and simple, worse than you described after you escaped. This’ll be my last letter, cause there ain’t no reason for us to be apart again. Well, I guess there is, since you took that fancy artist job that Pulitzer offered ya, but I ain’t never going away again.

I’m real sorry for giving up on you, Jack. I was scared, and hungry, and so goddamn hopeless despite knowing deep down that you wouldn’t let me die there. No matter what, I think we’ll make it. We just have to keep on hoping.

Good luck with that artist job, and with Kath. Me and Davey and Race’ll make sure that the boys end up okay. We’ll miss ya a bunch, but don’t let that stop you. Thanks for everything, brother, and just know that wherever you go, I’ll be with ya every step of the way.

Your Brother,

-Crutchie

#newsies musical #livesies #newsies #crutchie #crutchie morris #crutchie newsies #jack kelly #jack newsies #letters #Letter from the refuge

[wildestdreamshq]

I am once again begging for a Pez, Nora and June

you heard it here from one of our members! give the people what they want!

#discord rp #red white and royal blue rp #rwrb rp #group rp

[chairteeth]

Random story revision commentary #2

Welp this time I got through more chapters, and a warning for... Uhhh fantasy violence? But with guns. I'm not sure what trigger that is.

“Jesdale! Come on, we need those missiles over here!”

The fact that this is the line chapter 2 opens with,

Every non-essential worker had been assigned to various wartime tasks,

COVID MOMENT.

overpopulation aside.

Yeah just offhandedly mention the overpopulation problem in the SRP as if it's not the dumbest shit ever (please there is space you are just refusing to use it the population of the Earth is literally less than 4 billion iirc).

Their leader was in fact passed out on a sofa next to Shane, not even breathing. Despite looking every bit like she was deceased,

I'm

“She of course denied my request and claims that if I go find her and her crew anyway, I won’t get a warm welcome. Wonderful. Let’s prepare some light backpacks for the journey.”

Gretchen: receives a very serious death threat Also Gretchen: ignores it

Shane was surprised, tail curling around his leg. “We’re going after all?” “Um, I’m a little scared of the literal death threat?” Rick said, raising his hand a little in protest.

THE RESPONSES FROM THE SANE PEOPLE, FOLKS.

After a few moments of silence, Shane peeked back into the room. “Did something happen?” “… Gretchen said she would abandon us on the side of the road if we end up being a burden to her.”

Yeah pretty much. She's just doing what she needs to do guys dw about it.

“But aren’t I the crown princess? I should be helping with the war, right?”

SHE SAYS IN CHAPTER 3 AFTER IN HER LAST APPEARANCE SHE BEGGED NOT TO BE SENT TO WAR.

“Why do they hate me?” asked Alice. “Please don’t tell me the birds are also connected to Catherine.”

Honey, when animals don't like you, it's because they Know <3

“Don’t be afraid, spirit animals are intelligent creatures.” “Yeah, it’s not that I’m scared, it’s that I have no idea how this thing acts and I despise uncertainty.”

Girlie… Even the lion doesn't like you.

“So warmongering. Because I know Vicky doesn’t have a navy. Wait, does she?” she looked down at her superior for an answer. “Does the SRP have a navy?” “It does. Their ships are made of metal, and those cannons are definitely not honorable. As with their firearms, their cowardice knows no bounds. They even ambushed us from below somehow, but Captain Nora has the ability to cut through the metal they use for their ships, and putting anything underwater while we have her deployed is equivalent to suicide on their part. Foolish mistakes are plenty with that incompetent excuse for an army.”

Absolutely wheezing. Yeah we're fighting modern warships and submarines with wooden ships and it's kinda tough sometimes but we can just send this one soldier and destroy them all lmao. Thanks Mel.

“Catherine, if you get this, please do something about the yokai,” she whispered to the air. She wasn’t sure how Catherine’s apparent omnipresence worked, but seeing as she had mentioned the wind and the earth, it was worth a shot.

She is so desperate it's almost sad.

“Welcome back. Alice, by Lady Catherine’s orders you are to be taken to the Mirror Cave for a private audience,” he informed. “I presume that includes me?” the satori yokai said. The man smiled. “Lady Catherine said she did not have time to wait for either of you, so if one or both of you are not in time, you’ll miss your chance.” “Wait, there’s a time limit!?” said Alice. “I can’t sprint!”

We love Catherine Cramoisi in this household.

he was shorter and so were his legs.

Alice I am begging you.

For the record, it did not work.

I AM GOING TO STRANGLE THE NARRATOR (the narrator is not me or Alice).

Alice suppressed a reflex to glare back at him, continuing to walk through the crystal tunnels. “Essentially, he’s telling me he’s useless and wants to follow me anyway. And he can’t even look pretty while he’s doing it. Wonderful.”

This woman's priorities, once again.

Before she realized, she couldn’t hear the yokai’s footsteps behind her. When she turned to tell him not to match his pace with hers because that was definitely stalker behavior, she found nothing.

I am more amused at the narration than I perhaps should be.

The voice was her own alternate self, meaning she didn’t trust it one bit, but it didn’t seem to want to harm her, bizarre though it was.

This is just so telling. Alice PLEASE.

“And now, to find Catherine.” “No need to look for me.” Alice jumped around, hands up and ready to fight. “WHY do you keep sneaking up on me?” Catherine tilted her head. “I did no such thing. Now then, you wanted to talk to me, yes?”

We love Catherine Cramoisi in this househol-

“Is it about our supervisor?” “Yup.” “You want him gone.” “Absolutely.” “It’s not that I don’t agree with you,” the consort unexpectedly told her. “But politics won’t allow us to do away with him until things are secure, meaning until the end of the war against the SRP, and probably not until after we’ve partitioned Victoria’s land with them.” “Ugh.” “Is that all?” “I guess. I was hoping someone would be able to do something about the creep. Everyone needs their privacy, you know?” “Privacy is a rare privilege for royalty.” Alice groaned. “With each passing day I see more and more downsides to being royalty.” There was a sudden silence. “Alice.” “Yeah?” “You know I can hurt you, right?”

Catherine my beloved… (AND BASICALLY EVERY BETA READER'S BELOVED TOO)

“You know how these things work, I assume.” Alice wound down slightly. “Yes. I’ll owe you a favor. And I better keep my word, or else.”

Haha. Not Rin thinking to herself that if Alice doesn't keep her word this might turn into a fun situation and that's dangerous because "it makes her mask crack" like. Vibrating.

Side note, for chapter 3.5, I've written drowning scenes twice in my lifetime and the second one is far better than this one.

“All according to plan. Fate will bring us back together. Okay, now you’ll be on Fate’s side? Which one is it, rebel against destiny or accept it? May those who accept their fate be granted happiness, and may those who defy their fate be granted glory. Teacher’s words, not mine. I also have no idea if she’s an enemy or an ally. A little bit of both. She wants me to defeat her. And I know I will, eventually. I just hope Lady Catherine manages to keep her attention for long enough. Our queen is a crucial part of the plan, after all. The real game has only just begun. Prepare yourself. That sounds way too fucking ominous. And be prepared to snipe Teacher’s swallows if we see any. Didn’t she say they weren’t hers? The ones with glass eyes aren’t. If you see one with black eyes, no sclera or iris to be seen, shoot to kill. The others are not part of her game.” Everything is part of the game.

Ominous ass. As for why the dialogue is formatted weird, this is how I decided to format two different people in the same body talking to each other (no it's not DID, it's a soul thing). There's another instance but it's two of the same person in the same body so that's also formatted differently.

In chapter 4 we once again get a mention of Gretchen's seeing light, and earlier in chapter 2 she read a letter in braille. Gretchen isn't blind but she can't afford to "see", so she keeps her eyes closed and covered by a blindfold. The seeing light is really just, basically sonar technology?

“If only I had my M82. Firearms and blueprints were literally the only useful things we took from the US, and I had to massacre so many survivors to get us out of that one. With this puny rifle, the shot probably won’t land where I want it to land.”

Gretchen really just insulted the US and lamented her lack of a better gun in one breath (well, thought).

“Zerzurans are like tea bags full of magic.” -Gretchen Rufner, 7043 AU

For context, that means it's the year 7043 "after (the) Unearthing" which is the apocalypse that kinda nearly wiped out humanity.

NOT GRETCHEN LAMENTING THAT SHE MISSED ONE OF HER SHOTS BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T HEAR A BUSTED KNEECAP FROM ONE OF THESE TEENAGERS. Gretchen is questionable at all times and she is especially bad during this part but in her defense the situation is pretty dire and they're kinda at war so.

“H-how could you? You made them believe you would spare them,” Rick managed to squeeze out. “They weren’t even soldiers!” “That’s war. Every child of Zerzura is a soldier. Had I not killed them, I assure you they would’ve screwed us over later or tried to kill us. I was very humane with these two, and if you think I wasn’t, you are both still innocent little children. The world Outside is not sunshine and rainbows, especially not during a war. Now, I wonder…”

She says after holding two civilians at gunpoint, shooting one in the head upon learning he's mute, and shooting his brother dead too after he answers her questions while trying not to sob too loud. After this she also proceeds to kill the goats that were pulling the merchants' cart.

And that is all for today! Man I cannot wait to be done with this so I can work on the fics.

#nishiposting #writing #original story

[milkywaygg]

Baby Don’t Go (Chapter 10)

About a week passed on and Miguel’s symptoms slowly started to settle down a bit. He still had vomiting fits in the bathroom every now and then, but he had least had the strength to return to work again, trying to avoid having to do truck work as much as possible. At this point, work was the only thing keeping him sane as the house had gotten excessively quiet ever since Yolonda had stormed out. It wasn’t even the kind of quiet he was used to either, but rather a tense, almost ear-splitting silence that began to slowly drive Miguel crazy.

After work one evening, he fixed himself a TV Dinner before turning on the TV for the evening, hoping to drown his sorrows in some trashy, soap operas that reminded him of Yolonda. The actresses seemed to be decked out with layers of make-up, and wore fancy dresses an extravagant jewels that reminded Miguel of Yolonda’s love of expensive items. As he continued to watch, Miguel couldn’t stop thinking about her, constantly checking his messages in hopes for even a spiteful text, only for the phone to merely tell him the time.

Eventually, Miguel couldn’t take it anymore. He muted the TV and dialed Yolonda’s number for the first time since his little announcement. It took him several tries to reach her, before she finally picked up, some attempts not even allowing one ring before Miguel was disconnected. Once he was connected, he was met with a somewhat slurred voice that seemed to be devoid of the warmth and love that Yolonda would usually speak to him with.

“What Miguel? I’m busy right now.”

“Like hell you are. Listen, can we just talk? I just want to apologize-“

“I think you’ve done enough of that, don’t you?”, Yolonda snapped, “Besides, I don’t think an apology is going to fix all of this. I really thought you loved me, Miguel, but clearly, your actions don’t show it. Action speak louder than words, Miguel, and right now, I don’t give a damn what you have to say, unless its an emergency, ok?”

“But Yolonda, listen ok? You haven’t given me a chance to explain everything.”, Miguel begged, earning a sigh and a contemptuous “fine” from his wife. “I didn’t want any of this to happen, ok? I’m sorry. I went to bar after you went to god knows where, and met Nora there. We decided to become drinking buddies and eventually, one thing led to another. It was like the alcohol took control of us. You know I’ll never love Nora the same way I love you, right?”

“Are you sure about that? When was the last time you spoke with her?”

“Since the night we told you about the pregnancy. Once we get this abortion BS taken cared of, I’m going to block her number immediately, I promise you, Yolonda. Please…I’m sorry. I screwed up bad, and I regret even meeting her. Hell, I don’t even want to keep her bastard baby. I don’t want anything to do with any baby, unless they reminded me of you, baby.”

“Miguel..”, Yolonda sighed, though her tone was less angry, “I know you love me, and despite what you and that bitch had done, I think I still love you to but…I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I’m afraid that if I just let this go, you’re going to continue to hurt me.”

“Yolonda, you know I would never-“

“You said you would never hurt me when we had gotten married, but these years since our girls had moved out had proved to me just how worthless you think I am, and you know what? I don’t deserve that. You constantly belittle my drinking habits, you complain about how I don’t have a job, and now you expect me to just magically forgive your cheating?”

“Yolonda, I never said you were worthless-“

“Exactly. You never said that, but that’s how you’ve made feel.”, Yolonda said sadly, “I don’t know Miguel. I know I still love you, but it just doesn’t seem like you love me anymore, so maybe it would be best if we just did what the Cosmas are doing and just..”

“No NO!”, Miguel shouted suddenly, “No Yolonda! Please! I do love you! I-I’m sorry I’ve treated you like crap these past couple of years. I-I just go so fed up with being the only one working that I just exploded. I..can’t we just give this another chance? We’ve been married for 30,000 years now. We can’t just quit. I don’t want to quit on us.”

“I don’t either but maybe that’s what’s best.”, Yolonda said quietly, “You know what, I need to think about it. I’m not ready to make a decision yet. Listen, if there are any updates on that bastard child of yours, give me a call. Despite all the shit you have put me through, I do care about you. But other than that, I don’t really think I can talk to you right now. I’m sorry Miguel, but you broke my heart, and I’m tired of having to give other people multiple chances.”

Before Miguel could retaliate, Yolonda hung up, leaving nothing but a long dial tone buzzing in Miguel’s ear. Putting his phone off, he decided to turn the TV off and turn in for the evening, showring right before he decided to lie in bed and scroll on his phone. Out of genuine curiosity, he decided to search up the Men’s Health Care center to look at available appointments, and how an abortion procedure works, reading the following:

In order for a fairy to qualify for an abortion surgery, the fetus can be no longer than 4 weeks (1 month) old and must be screened to have no heartbeat. In addition, a magical scan will be placed on the fetus to see if anyone had any platonic connections for love for the child. If any match is discovered, then the abortion will be considered illegal, and cannot be completed.

To book an appointment, call the number or make an appointment for initial testing online. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to email [email protected].

Miguel smirked slightly as he continued to look over the qualifications list. Seemed simple enough. He hadn’t had this child for no longer than a week and a half, and there was no way he was gonna fail the love scan. Miguel honestly felt like he didn’t love the child, and he knew that there was no way Nora or Yolonda did either, considering Yolonda would often call the child a “bastard” and Nora would constantly complain about the baby’s existence.

Before he was allowed to drift off to sleep however, Miguel’s phone rang once more, revealing a bunch of numbers that he didn’t recognize, but had the same area code. Genuinely curious, Miguel decided to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Uhm…Miguel, was it? Is now a bad time?”, Linnie’s voice asked nervously.

“Linnie? How’d you get my number?”

“I…might have copied it off Nora’s number before I left. She had her phone unlocked for some reason.”, Linnie said, “Uhm, would you be open for lunch at anytime this weekend, or are you busy? There’s kind of something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

“Why can’t you just ask me right now?”

“Well, it has to do with the situation, and it’s kind of something that might need a discussion. Uhm, are you available?”

“Yeah I guess, but what do you want to ask me, just so we can get on the same page here.”

“Well uhm…I-I’m not sure how you would feel about this since I know you’ve been looking to abort but…I-I was just wondering if it would be possible for me to adopt the child? I mean..I know how hard abortions can be to go through and I just thought, maybe a better alternative is to have the baby placed in my care.”

“Why would you wanna adopt? Don’t you think this child would be a reminder of your wife cheating? I find it a little odd you’re willing to take in the child just like that.”

“Yes well, honestly, I don’t think its very fair to punish the child for existing. It’s not their fault after all. They deserve a family that will love them very much, and don’t take this the wrong way, but it doesn’t seem like you or Nora are all that willing to show love and compassion.”, Linnie explained, though Miguel couldn’t argue with his logic, “I’m not asking for an answer now, I just thought I’d offer that up. Have you scheduled an appointment yet?”

“Not yet. I gotta get screened first to see if I even qualify for abortion services.”

“Perfect. Would you be available to grab some coffee downtown this weekend? I know how busy you are with your garbage company and all, and I’ll be busy tending to the nursery.”, Linnie said, “I’d really love if you’ll at least hear me out, please?”

“Ugh fine, but just so you know, I’m not a man who changes his mind very easily.”

“Yes well, thank you for at least hearing me out. Saturday at 10 work alright?”

“Eh sure. Got nothing else to do anyways.”

“Perfect. See you then, and I’m so sorry for waking you up. Goodnight Miguel.”

“Goodnight Linnie.”

  Almost as if the weather could read his mind, Miguel found himself walking the downtown streets as the Fairy World skies sprinkled with rain. He passed by hundreds of fairies floating along the concrete as he turned the corner, running to the jewelry shop that neighbored the coffee shop he was supposed to meet Linnie at. Having minutes to spare, Miguel lingered outside the window to find Yolonda, wearing a velvet, purple jacket, smiling and talking with customer, as if nothing had happened the last couple of weeks. When he saw that she was done, Miguel smiled slightly and waved at her from the outside, only for her to scowl at him, and pretend to get busy cleaning the counter. With his heart now aching, Miguel looked away and headed towards the coffee shop, ordered a hot chocolate inside, and sat down at the table Linnie reserved for the two of them. Upon arrival, Linnie smiled warmly, also drinking a hot chocolate, and wearing a lime green sweater vest, and tan pants with a belt, matching his brown shoes. Miguel also noticed that Linnie was a good bit taller than him as well, and looked as though he might be even taller than his own wife.

“So Miguel.”, Linnie started, “How have you been? Are your symptoms, ok?”

“Eh, they’ve chilled out since we found out about this crap. I’m not vomiting as much anymore.”

“That’s good to hear. I know pregnancies can be rough.”, Linnie chuckled.

“Believe me. After the twins were born, I had hoped I would never have to go through this again.”

“Yes..I hated my pregnancies as much as you do, but in the end, it’s all worth it in my opinion.”, Linnie said, smiling gently, “How have things been at home?”

“Not great. Yolonda’s pretty pissed off, as you can imagine. I stopped by the jewelry shop she works at, and she gave me the cold shoulder, and it’s been hell trying to get a hold of her.”, Miguel complained, “How’s Nora been?”

“Oh, I’m not talking to her much these days. I’ve moved out, and we plan on filing for divorce.”, Linnie said, “I went to stay at my sister’s for a little bit until I heard my old apartment was open for lease again. I’m working on moving back in right now.”

“Oh really now? Sorry to hear. Heh, I was wondering how she’d take it if she knew you wanted to adopt the bastard child.”, Miguel laughed, making Linnie squeak.

“O-Oh, please don’t call the baby that. I-I know things are upsetting now, but I really don’t think we need to be taking it out on the child.”, Linnie asked, gently but nervously, “Have you put any thought into what I suggested the other night?”

“About the baby?”, Miguel asked. Linnie nodded. “I don’t know. I really was hoping to get it aborted. I’l be honest. I don’t really want another reminder of Nora in this world, at the moment.”

“But why? Why do you believe the baby is going to be like her?”

“Well, I mean she’s gonna look at her and….I guess I can’t live with myself knowing that the consequence of my mistake will be living out there somewhere.”

“Miguel, I know it’s rather hard, but I-I I don’t know. I know you have no intention on raising it, so I just thought..”

“It’s cheaper for me that way anyways, Linnie. Nora and I wouldn’t have to pay child support if we just decided to get rid of it all together, and you know, eventually if we just let that child live, then it’ll start questioning everything, and will find out the truth.”

“Well yes, but they deserve to know.”

“Well, it won’t matter if the baby’s gone.”, Miguel said matter-of-factly as Linnie started to tear up. Taking a deep breath however, Linnie looked at Miguel with disapproval in his eyes, not believing what he’s hearing.

“Wow…you three really hate that baby, hm?”

“Yolonda and I aren’t exactly the biggest fans of it no. But you know what?”, Miguel asked, somewhat defensively, “It’s not like you have the right to tell me what to do with my body, Linnie! I don’t appreciate you gaslighting me into keeping this child.”

“I-I’m not trying to gaslight you. I just think this child deserves to have a chance at having a life and a family that loves them. Please, I’m not trying to force you to do anything, of course not. But I just think you’re all just being cruel on this little child, that did not ask to be here.”

“Yeah and so what? It’s my body, and it’s Nora’s kid. We decided to go through with abortion so that’s what we’re gonna do, once we get approved.”, Miguel snapped, “Look, I know you have good intentions, but the baby’s not the only victim here. Yolonda feels betrayed right now because of all of this, and I’m sure you’re hurting over your bitch of a wife. This mistake has already ruined two lives that have already pre-existed, so having the audacity to create another one, I just…I can’t go through with it, Linnie. I’m sorry, but there’s just no room in my heart for this kid.”

Linnie was silent for a good while, clearly broken hearted hearing Miguel say all those things about the child. The two men continued to sip their hot chocolate awkwardly, before eventually, their mugs were emptied, and Linnie had paid the tab.

“I just….I’m sorry. I know this is your decision, and I know this is your body, but I just…”, Linnie said quietly, “I’ve never heard of someone wanting to abort purely out of malice. You know, I’ve met with people that aborted before, and they’ve all said that either they wish they could take it all back, or they wish they didn’t have to. I don’t know…I don’t mean to judge…but I really think going through with this abortion is the cruelest thing you can do to them.”

“Heh, abortion ain’t nothing. If I had kept the kid and started abusing it, then we’ll talk about cruel.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t dare.”, Linnie’s voice dropped suddenly, “If that’s the route you decide take, I have no problem taking your….ass to CPS. I have no tolerance for that kind of stuff, Miguel. I hope you understand that.”

“Woah woah damn, chill. I never said that’s what I WOULD do. Take a chill pill.”, Miguel said, with a slight mocking tone, “But I’m pretty firm with my decision, and there ain’t shit you can do to change my mind.”

“Very well. If you think you’re doing the right thing, then go ahead.”, Linnie said, dejectedly as he got up from the table, clearly upset, “Well, will you at least tell me if you qualify or not? My offer will always be on the table until all of this is figured out for sure. I just…I care about that baby so much, I-I just wish it could have a loving home.”

Before he could even open his mouth, Linnie flew outside the coffee house, tears streaming down his face as he started crying, making Miguel roll his eyes. What a baby. With all that damn emotion, you would have thought he was the pregnant one.

Clearly annoyed that his morning was wasted, Miguel poofed home and got on the computer to schedule his appointment, scheduling it for tomorrow at 1 PM for consulting and screening. Afterwards, as Miguel reviewed the qualifications once more, he suddenly didn’t feel so confident. Sure, he still met the first month trimester stuff, and he didn’t think the baby was quite developed along yet to have a heartbeat, but he kept reading the “child must have no one that loves them” note over and over again. Reading that sentence, compared to Linnie’s strange behavior at the coffee shop, Miguel suddenly felt like he had been screwed over.

#fairly oddparents #fanfic #fanfiction #drama

[howlingday]

tragic backstory (tm) au) cin cin needs help learning the rapier, or the small sword doesn't really matter it's just her class is doing a story about a masked hero and she wants to get the lead really bad. jaune's sorry to say that he doesn't know much beyond longsword from his own time as a practice partner, but maybe letting her train with weiss would help? i mean obviously real combat isn't a good match for stage but anything is better than nothing right?

meanwhile ren's thinking he might have to rethink the assassin theory, he doesn't think jaune's sister has it in her to even say a bad thing about jaune let alone kill him... so why is he training her in such things? and what sort of training lets her be that athletic and graceful! (ballerinas are jacked man! never even try to mess with one)

and weiss is struggling to not have a mental breakdown, the girl is a once in a generation genius when it comes to the small sword and rapier but everytime she thinks she's connecting with her newest student she huffs and clams up, she's not even hiding anything it's just that she seems to remember that she's supposed to be mad at them for some reason and then goes back to pouting! she can't imagine anyone being so stubborn even when they're wrong! (basically cin-cin is volume 1 weiss when she's mad and these people were mean to her big brother for a long time from what she heard!)

You Do It For Cin

Cinnamon Arc loves many thing. First, she loves her family, who was always there for her through everything. Second, she loves her friends, whom she shared many wonderful memories with. Third and finally, and possibly more than anything else, she loves the theater.

She loved dressing up, performing, and becoming something more than herself! She begged her parents to take her to every play they could. She would reference the greats wherever she could, and often disrupted class for the sake of the arts.

Ozpin: (Clack! Clack! Clack!) And you left your sister under the care of Ms. Schnee?

Jaune: (Clack! Clack! Clack!) Yeah, I trust her. Besides, she's the better swordswoman than I am.

Ozpin: (Clack! Clack! Clack!) Well, to be fair, of the two of you, she's the only swordswoman of the two of you.

Jaune: (Clack! Clack! Clack!) I can't argue with that.

Ozpin: (Clack! Clack! Clack!) A moment, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: (Stops) What's wrong?

Ozpin: Nothing. I just have a question for you.

Jaune: Oh, okay. What do you want to know?

Ozpin: Actually, that's exactly what my question was going to be.

Jaune: Huh?

Ozpin: I'm sure you have questions for me, so consider this your chance to learn what you can. Ask me any question.

Jaune: Uh, okay. Uh, how old are you?

Ozpin: Much, much older than you, or anyone you know.

Jaune: Really?

Ozpin: Indeed.

Jaune: Older than Professor Port?

Ozpin: Much older.

Jaune: Older than the Councilman.

Ozpin: Much, much older.

Jaune: What, are you, like, a hundred years old? (Thwack!) OW!

Ozpin: (Smiles) Much older.

Jaune: I feel like you're messing with me.

Ozpin: A little bit, yes.

Weiss: Now, just as I showed you...

Cin-Cin: I know what I'm doing.

Weiss: Yes, but your arm is too tense. You should try-

Cin-Cin: I have been doing this for years! I don't need you smothering me, hag!

Weiss: H-Hag?

Yang: (Sigh) Not again. (Picks up Weiss) Come on, Weiss, suck it up, you're not a hag. Just useless teenager.

Weiss: Useless?! I'll have you know, Xiao Long, that I have done nothing but excel since...

Yang: (Walks back) Yup, this is going to be a long day.

Nora: So she's not an assassin in training?

Ren: I'm starting to think no. She's attached to her brother, so when the time comes, she won't have it in her.

Blake: Not to mention, I can't imagine Jaune training an assassin.

Ruby: He was in the mob, wasn't he?

Nora: No, he made that up to hide the fact he learned it using the bones of his best friend rat while he was enslaved.

Ruby: (Sniffs) Poor ratty!

Pyrrha: I remember Jaune telling me she's a fan of performing Huntsman. He said she's attending Sanctum so she can learn to fight and perform in an arena.

Ruby: So she's going to Sanctum to be an actor?

Pyrrha: Not everyone who attends and graduates from a primary school go on to a Huntsman Academy. Sometimes, they'll go back to have regular jobs, using their experience to benefit the community without committing to the Huntsman lifestyle.

Nora: So Sanctum is just another step towards being an actor?

Pyrrha: Real combat isn't that different from stage combat, though there are key differences, such as developing a killing intent.

Nora: Killing intent? With her

Weiss: Now, one, two, three, tap. One, two, three, tap. One, two-

Cin-Cin: I'll kill you! (Weiss expertly deflects every strike) Die! Die! Die! (Huffs, Pants)

Weiss: ...Are you done, dear? Good! Now, as we were doing. One, two, three, tap.

Nora: Yeah, I could see it.

Jaune: Wow... So that's what Uncle Jim was like. I never got to meet him before he died, but he sounds really strong.

Ozpin: Indeed. Though, I wish he controlled his emotions better.

Jaune: (Chuckles) Yeah, he sounds like he was an emotional kind of guy.

Ozpin: Yes, the apple doesn't fall far, does it?

Jaune: Hey, I am not that emotional.

Ozpin: Mr. Arc, te only difference between yourself and your uncle was his voracious appetite for flesh.

Jaune: Hey, I eat a lot of meat, too!

Ozpin: (Leans forward, Gives a knowing look) Not what I'm talking about.

Jaune: (Blushing) Oh...

Ozpin: In fact, he was especially fond of one woman in particular. A miss-

Vernal: Raven! (Rips open tent) You're going to need to see this!

Raven: (Steps out, Walks with Vetnal) This better be good.

Vernal: It isn't, ma'am. It really isn't. We were watching the Luna tribe, when suddenly one of them started screaming, then the others! Next thing we knew, they were beating each other to death, then gutting themselves!

Raven: Did any of them escape?

Vernal: Yes, but they were moving south to other side of the camp. I think they were hiding from them and trying to get you to protect them.

Raven: Cowards and weaklings, all of- (Looks over the death and gore) I'll be back. (Flies up in her raven form, Flies back down shortly after) Mobilize the camp. We're going to Beacon.

Vernal: Of course, but may I ask why?

Raven: Because like it, or not, I need Ozpin.

#rwby #rwby au #tragic backstory (tm) au #ozpin #headmaster ozpin #professor ozpin #jaune arc #weiss schnee #cinnamon arc #yang xiao long #ruby rose #nora valkyrie #blake belladonna #lie ren #pyrrha nikos #vernal branwen #vernal #raven branwen

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 4

Tristan had slapped his menu shut before you could even sit down. He’d been begging you to try a new place in Encino with him, you figured it was a good excuse to get Zoey out of the house and to let Maeve and CeCe duke it out in Shelli and Irv’s backyard instead of yours.

It was all work talk at first, he offered an update on a meeting you missed to drop off Maeve at a friend’s and Zoey sucked down a glass of wine promising to pump and dump before the night ended.

But now your plates were in front of you and you twirled spaghetti around your fork when she asked: “How’s your pool boy?” You stared up at her, unimpressed.

“He’s not my pool boy, and he’s fine.”

Tristan raised his eyebrows across the table. “Would you let Harry Styles be your pool boy?”

“Can we not talk about him like this, please?”

“Oh come on,” Tristan pulled a face. “If you’re not going to sleep with him at least let us fantasize.”

You must have twitched, a quick glance in Zoey’s direction or a quiver of your lip. Zoey leaned in and her voice was serious. “What was that?”

“What? Nothing.”

“What do you mean what was that?” Tristan asked.

“She made a weird face when you said that.”

“No I didn’t,” you defended. “I just don’t like talking about him in public, especially like this.”

“Bullshit,” Zoey laughed, leaned back in her chair. “What are you not telling us? Did you see him shirtless again?”

You let out a breath, wiped at your mouth and wondered if telling them would be the biggest mistake of your life. You couldn’t even get the words out before Zoey leaned in.

“You had sex with him?!” her eyes nearly bugged out of her head, Tristan’s fork clanked against his plate when his jaw dropped open.

You’d made it a whole week, almost. You pushed the thoughts down and brushed them under the metaphorical work rug. The body wash prototypes were in, you were booking models to do a photoshoot, video shoot, everything was getting lined up for the rollout in another few weeks. You didn’t have time to tell them about something silly and stupid and maybe a part of you didn’t want to fill them in because you were afraid they’d burst your bubble. It’ll never work out, what happens when his house is ready, he has a tour to go on.

“Be quiet,” you looked around and worried if anyone had overheard Tristan’s not-so-subtle name drop. “It’s not a big deal, okay? It’s not like it’s gonna be a regular thing.”

Tristan pulled his head back, offended by your words. “You had sex with him and you’re not going to make that a regular thing? Have you seen him?”

“Yes,” you made a face at Tristan. “I have seen him.”

“You are going to hit and quit Harry Styles?” Zoey leaned in and said his name much more quietly now.

“Well,” you dropped their gaze for a second, reluctant to be honest with them in fear of their reaction. “It’s happened once, and then we kissed once but CeCe came down, but she didn’t see anything. I’m just too old to be hooking up with a twenty-four year old.”

“Wait, okay, slow down. When did this happen?” Zoey asked.

“After my birthday dinner,” you shrugged. “We came home, had wine, the girls were out.”

“And when did you make out with him aside from that night?”

“The next night. And we didn’t make out, it was barely even open-mouthed.”

“Ew,” Tristan grimaced.

Zoey snapped to get your attention. “So twenty-four hours after you had sex, you kissed him?”

You made a face at her, unsure where she was going with it. You hadn’t been clocking or documenting your sexual encounters. “I don’t know, probably.”

“This is straight out of a trashy romance book written for middle aged women,” Tristan leaned back in his seat and took a pull from his glass of rosé. “I mean that in, like, a nice way.”

“Okay,” Zoey leaned forward. “So, nothing has happened since a week ago, then?”

“No,” you shook your head quickly. “Just those times. And I don’t think anything should happen again.”

They both groaned at the same time, Zoey’s shoulders sunk and she rolled her eyes. “You deserve to have sex with a hot guy.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Even if he’s younger than you.”

“I don’t want to traumatize my children.”

“Well you don’t have to have sex in front of them,” Tristan made a goofy face and you waved him off.

Zoey snorted out a laugh but you ignored their immaturity.

“I mean that having Harry here is already probably confusing for them, right? Their dad leaves, their grandpa dies, now we have some stranger in our house and he’s playing with them in the backyard and--”

“Being more of a dad to them than Luke ever was?”

Zoey’s words brought a sigh out from between your lips. “Exactly.”

“Having a positive male role model is good for them,” Tristan said.

“Sure,” you nodded. “But what about when Harry moves out? He’ll just be another man that will leave them. They’ll be super fucked up.”

Tristan reached forward and took your hand in his. “Hey--it’s more about the fact that they have you and they have other people who love them. Who cares if their idea of a family isn’t the stereotypic, heterosexual norm?”

“I know,” you relented. “I just don’t want them to be poorly adjusted.”

“Okay, that sounds like something an obnoxious prep school guidance counselor would say to you,” Zoey eyed you with skepticism.

You shrugged your shoulders. “It was Maeve’s teacher.”

“Okay, fuck that teacher!” Tristan nodded. “Your kids are adjusting, and that’s because of how good of a mom you are to them. And mommy deserves a pool boy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even if his words were worthy of an eye-roll. Zoey tried not to let wine drip from her nose after a snort escaped between sips.

“Not my pool boy!” You giggled.

“Which is good,” Tristan nodded, his tone completely serious. “That would be so cliché even Nora Roberts wouldn’t write it.”

**

Slumber parties always made you anxious. They were one of those things that made you question how on earth people trusted you to watch a group of children when sometimes, you still felt like one yourself.

Maeve’s 11th birthday party was no exception. Five other girls danced around your living room and CeCe sat at the counter while you iced cupcakes. Her little face was scrunched into a pout so intensely that it almost made you giggle.

“You alright?” You asked her, dish towel over your shoulder when she let out another sigh.

“Just wish I could play with them,” she held her palms towards the sky in exasperation, reaching for a container of sprinkles when you let out a laugh.

“You get to go for ice cream with Uncle Jeff, remember? You’re gonna go to the beach, too, I think.”

You’d been trying to bribe her all week: a new tutu, a new doll, anything she wanted just to make her give up and accept the fact that her older sister didn’t want her at her slumber party.

And you couldn’t blame either of them. Of course Maeve didn’t want her younger (and very loud, dramatic, and demanding) younger sister trailing behind all night. But, on the other hand, of course CeCe felt left out when she saw all of the older girls arrive with their sleeping bags and birthday gifts.

She sighed again, your conversation interrupted by a ringing from your cell phone on the counter beside her.

“Uncle Jeff?”

She was right, you reached for the phone and held it up with your shoulder, hoping the laughter from the living room wouldn’t travel it’s way into the speaker.

“Hi--are you here?”

“Y/N, I am so sorry to do this--”

“Oh god, Jeff, no!”

“I just got called into the office because one of my artists apparently just posted some stupid shit on the internet--isn’t there someone else who can hang out with CeCe? Where’s Tristan?”

“I don’t know where he is, but I doubt he’d be thrilled to play dress up or skip through a park.”

“Zoey?”

You could hear traffic through his line, his karma for backing out at the last minute was having to sit on the 405. “She has a ten-week-old infant, Jeffrey.”

“Well where’s Harry? Can’t he pitch in?”

You let out a groan, CeCe had taken to pouring sprinkles into her hand and lapping them up with her tongue.

Harry was upstairs, hiding away from the girl gang currently singing karaoke and sipping on juice boxes. He had the day off and had dipped out in the afternoon to meet a friend for lunch. You tried to mind your own business--he could come and go as he pleased and just because you had slept with him once didn’t give you the right to suddenly start asking questions about his plans.

But the universe pitied you, apparently, because right when you told Jeff you’d figure it out and hung up on him aggressively, Harry pranced down the stairs and headed for the fridge.

“How’s it going down here?” He reached for a juice box, crisp apple, and fumbled with the straw when he turned to face you.

“Everyone is alive and nothing is broken,” you scanned the counter, another batch of cupcakes still in the oven with 10 minutes to go.

With the straw now between his lips, he raised his eyebrows. “Bar’s that low, huh?”

“Well, your friend Jeffrey just bailed on watching CeCe and going for ice cream.”

She was blissfully unaware of the change of plans, still licking sprinkles out of her palm, but now swiveled around on the stool to watch the girls jump around in the other room.

“I can take her,” he shrugged nonchalantly, ran a hand through his hair when you stared at him for a second.

If traffic was Jeff’s karma, Harry must have been yours.

“Are you serious? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he smiled. “CeCe? What do you say we do ice cream and pizza?”

She turned around at the sound of her name, her eyes lit up. “Pepperoni?” She asked.

“Of course,” Harry replied to her like it was a crazy question.

“Is Uncle Jeff coming?”

“He’s not,” You informed her, arms crossed over your chest. “You’re alright to go with Harry?”

You didn’t mean to make it awkward, but mom mode kicked in and you realized CeCe had never spent time alone with Harry except maybe in the backyard.

“Yeah!” She hopped down from the stool and grinned up at him. “Can I get a milkshake?”

Harry looked over to you and when you nodded, he held out his hand. “As many as you want.”

“That’s not what I said,” you called after him, watching as he led her over to the back door. He plucked his keys off the hook on the wall and smiled at you over his shoulder. “Please don’t be out late, text me when you get where you’re going!”

CeCe shouted a bye mommy!!!! before they disappeared into the driveway. A sudden raise in your pulse had you questioning what type of mother lets their 6-year-old get in the car with a pop star who’s probably hounded by paparazzi and maybe even doing cocaine on the weekends.

You picked up your phone and it rang four times before Zoey answered. “I need you to talk me off the ledge.”

“What ledge?”

The timer beeped and you gloved up to retrieve the rest of the cupcakes. “I’m apparently a psychopath because I just let Harry take CeCe for pizza and ice cream.”

You could tell she held back a laugh. “Why does that make you a psychopath?”

“Because he’s a stranger! What if he never comes back with her? What if he gets chased by paparazzi and CeCe is the next Princess Diana?!” The thought shuttered through your bones, a shiver down your spine when Zoey cleared her throat.

“Okay, so, as a mom, I totally get that. But I also think you’re freaking out too much.”

The cupcake tin rattled onto the granite. “How?!”

“He’s not a stranger, he’s been living with you guys for like, over a month now.”

You thought about it for a second. Two weeks turned into a few more, four weeks slipped by easily. What felt like it was going to be a blip on the radar now felt like a totally normal thing: dinners with him as the fourth seat and texts to him in the middle of the day asking if there was anything he was in the mood for.

“I just can’t believe I trust him enough to do that, I guess.”

“Y/N, he’s a good guy,” she laughed. “He likes your kids and he definitely likes you.”

“We’re not going there,” you said. “I have a house full of ten-year-olds and cupcakes to frost.”

“Okay, well, you’re not a psychopath. And there’s nothing wrong with having feelings for him.”

“Zoey! You are starting to sound like the psychopath!”

“I’m alright with that,” laughter through the phone when you told her you had to go. Love you, see you later, pinch Benny’s cheeks for me.

You were swept up in the excitement of the night. Your own pizza was delivered before 8pm, a movie turned on by 9pm. They decorated cupcakes at the dining room table and proceeded to eat more than they could fit in their tummies.

Maeve was in heaven, opened presents when you snapped pictures on your phone. Harry had texted to let you know they’d stop at Shelli and Irv’s before heading home. If CeCe came home in the middle of presents, she’d probably break down right there.

So when you heard the alarm signal a new entry, you hoped CeCe was too tired to argue with you about sleeping in her own room and not in Maeve’s with the rest of them. Your legs were folded beneath you on the couch, noise in the kitchen when Harry rounded the corner with CeCe asleep on his shoulder.

You stood up, eyebrows high when he smirked in your direction. “She’s out cold,” he laughed. “Fell right asleep on the way home.”

“It’s like a ten minute drive from their house,” you said, opening your arms to take her. “Sorry, here.”

“I can bring her up...just lead the way,” he motioned with his head for you to go first up the stairs. He followed you down the hall and to CeCe’s room, pink walls and a plush carpet underneath her twin-sized bed that still seemed too big for her.

He put her down when you flipped on a nightlight, watched when you tugged the duvet over her and kissed her on the forehead. You sighed when you stood up straight beside him, voice quiet. “I’m not waking her up to brush her teeth cause she’ll freak out and want to be included in the party. Am I a bad mom?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, smirked down at you quickly before looking back to her. “You’re a great mom.”

You elbowed him in the ribs playfully. “You have to say that.”

“I do?”

“I’m your landlord,” you laughed, leading him back into the hallway.

“I thought you were my friend?”

A sigh, the darkness a cover for your confusion and your fluttering heart beat. “Yeah, that too.”

He was quiet for a second, if it weren’t for the bedroom of kids down the hall you’d pull him into you despite better judgment. He stared down at you with a dimpled smile, but you took a step back.

“Thanks for taking her, and hanging out with her. You really didn’t have to.”

“I had fun,” he reassured you. “We got a pizza and ate in a park near Westwood Hills, then got ice cream, visited with Shelli and Irv,” he listed it off like it brought him as much joy as it did her.

“Hey, not to be weird or anything, but--how’s your house coming?”

He sensed the shift in the air too, but he didn’t know that it came from a place of fear. A question you had to ask: this was temporary, this wasn’t real, this was just a convenient set up and you couldn’t lose sight of that.

“Oh, yeah--I’m going over on Sunday to see it. Apparently there are still issues with the plumbing that have to be updated. They said it might be a few more weeks.”

“Okay, I just didn’t know.”

“Yeah, is that okay? I can try to find somewhere to stay if you need me out?”

“No,” you said it quickly. “I don’t need you to leave.”

“Okay,” he said, his eyes still on yours. He reached forward to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “I like staying here with you guys.”

“...I like it too.”

“Mom?” Maeve’s head poked out of her bedroom. “Hayley spilled soda on the carpet!”

He stepped back from you quickly, like his reflexes were getting better each time. You laughed at his sudden movement, “coming!”

He smiled down at you and let out an exaggerated sigh once Maeve’s door was slammed shut and the music was back on, a magnetic pull between your chests that maybe he felt too. “Hayley, Hayley, Hayley.”

But again, a rush of uncertainty and self-doubt made you grateful for the interruption, your stomach weaving itself in knots when you stared at your ceiling fan and hoped that sleep would come.

Work picked up in the next week, Tristan was in your office most days with spreadsheets and graphs and to-do lists that made you feel like you needed a margarita at 2pm. On Wednesday Harry made dinner and CeCe had a meltdown when you forced her to take a bath.

Friday night entailed dinner at Shelli and Irv’s, the girls and Harry and Jeff too. You stood in the kitchen with a glass of wine in hand, Shelli watched as their chef sautéed something through steam. When Jeff pulled Harry away to show him a new guitar Irv had been gifted, you ignored the smile on Shelli’s face.

“How are things going?”

“Fine,” you said, casually and calm and cool. “How are you?”

“Y/N,” she smiled. “Does Jeffrey know?”

“Know what?”

“About you and Harry?”

“No,” you told her quickly. “There’s nothing to know, alright? We were drunk, it was not a big deal.”

“Alright,” she held up a hand, effectively resigning when she sipped her Pinot Grigio, a disappointed sigh before she asked: “How are the girls holding up?”

You sighed, unsure if she’d really drop it. You told her about Maeve’s birthday party and caught her up on the body wash debut. Deadlines were quickly approaching, the launch party was being scheduled and production was full steam ahead.

You almost thought you’d make it through the rest of the night without any drama--no more mention of Harry or the happenings between you. But eventually he and Jeff found their way back to the kitchen and you hoped that no one noticed how close Harry stood to you.

Jeff was in the middle of filling you and Shelli in on Harry’s album plans: they were wrapping up production and soon they’d announce the release date, his excitement cut off by a shout from the backyard.

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice was shrill and desperate as it rang through the house. She let out a loud sob and when you looked up, you saw her clutching her elbow with a new grass stain on her shirt. She was fine, it was one of those moments where she thought the world was ending but everyone else knew getting knocked over by her sister wouldn’t kill her.

“She’s fine,” Maeve rolled her eyes, a quick look down to CeCe who’s eyes were already filled with tears.

“No I’m not!” she screamed back at her sister.

You looked to Shelli with an exasperated look, set your glass of wine down on the counter. Before you could make any movement, though, Harry’s hand hovered on the small of your back. “I’ll go, enjoy the wine. She’s fine.”

He was right, there was no question that CeCe would survive her scraped elbow and bruised ego. He moved towards the backyard and you were frozen in place when Jeff’s forehead wrinkled.

“What was that?” he asked, eyebrows strung together like tea lights once Harry was out of earshot.

“I don’t know--what do you mean?”

You looked over at Harry, now on the ground in front of CeCe who’s wails were much quieter. She wiped at her wet eyes, a little laugh escaped her lips when Harry brushed the grass off of her elbow and cracked a joke.

“Well, he seems pretty good with them,” Jeff leaned against the counter, the sliding door providing a perfect view as CeCe stood up and raced back towards Maeve.

“Yeah, I mean, he is.”

“He also touched your back in a funny way.”

Shelli raised her eyebrows and sipped at her wine again.

“And now my mom is making a weird face,” Jeff’s eyes narrowed when he looked at you. “Are you--is there, like, something going--”

“No,” you said quickly, a finger pointed at Shelli and another pointed at Jeff. “Do not say anything in front of the girls.”

Shelli stifled a laugh but managed to look incredibly innocent at the same time.

“Oh my god!” Jeff said this with a noise of shock, eyes wide when he looked between you and Shelli, then back out to the yard where Harry laughed with Irv. “Oh my god, and you knew?”

Shelli shrugged her shoulders, a don’t blame me look crossed her face when you took a swig of wine to calm the pounding of your heart.

Jeff had always been protective and caring and like a brother. Not in a weird way, not in the you can’t date my friends way. Just in the sense that he wanted to know who you were hooking up with and he’d been encouraging you relentlessly to stop picking assholes ever since you filed for divorce.

But this was different, this was a friend of his and a client of his. It was someone that his entire family knew and this was probably the worst choice of rebound.

“Please relax,” you said this with a look of warning in his direction. “I will explain to you what your lunatic mother is smirking about but you have about fifteen seconds to wipe the look of shock off your face before he comes back in here.”

“She’s fine,” Harry waved a hand once he was back in the kitchen. “And what look of shock are we wiping off of our faces?” The dimple was there again, the corner of his mouth pulled up and he scanned all three of you for any sort of information.

“Just that you are so good with the girls,” Jeff covered for you, a confident nod when he hoped Harry would believe him.

“That’s surprising to you?” Harry pulled his head back, an obvious look of mock offense. “I’m great with children. They love me.”

Maeve came in from the fading light, out of breath from running around with whatever ball they’d gotten their hands on. “Who loves you?”

“Kids,” Jeff replied for him.

“Oh,” Maeve said. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” You looked down at her, unsure if she was agreeing or just voicing that she understood.

She shrugged, plucked a chicken skewer from a dish in front of Shelli. “I mean, I like having him around.”

Harry was practically tickled pink. “Thank you, Maeve.” He turned to rub this in Jeff’s face. “See?”

“He cooks well, plays outside with us, definitely funnier than mom,” Maeve kept listing things off, pulling laughter from the rest of the crew.

“Maeve!” You whined. “I’m funny!”

“You’re like, sometimes funny.”

“Sometimes funny is better than never funny,” Harry nodded in your direction, an attempt to soften the blow.

CeCe had wandered in behind her sister, she picked at the scrape on her elbow until you called her attention. “CeCe--do you think mommy’s funny?”

“Mmmm,” the thought on it for a second, put her finger to her chin and scrunched up her nose. “Sort of.”

Jeff let out a big laugh at that, Harry tried to stifle one and you dismissed the jabs. “Okay, well, it’s not like anyone here is a comedian.”

“Harry’s funny,” CeCe said with a smile. “He reads books in silly voices.”

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up at that again, amused and surprised by the fact that Harry was in on the bedtime routine. But it was infrequent, sometimes CeCe would beg for more time outside or another thirty minutes of TV.

If the tears got aggressive or the tantrum became too much, she perked up pretty quickly if Harry offered to read with her. It was way more exciting than reading with you, Maeve had explained.

After showering Harry with compliments, the girls were excited to sit on Shelli and Irv’s patio. Pink lemonade and a delicious dinner, though neither of them would even so much as take a bit of your salad.

They ran around some more while you sipped wine, Jeff and Harry had been talked into a two versus two soccer match and Irv laughed his head off when Maeve actually scored on Jeff. Darkness came and CeCe crawled into your lap, eyelids getting heavy until you buckled her into the backseat.

You’d taken one car, CeCe’s booster seat was too clunky to move over to Harry’s so you drove and felt slightly embarrassed about the crayons and coloring books scattered on the floor of the backseat.

“Mom, can I have another sleepover this weekend?”

“With who?”

“All of the girls from last weekend.”

“Honey, no, that was a big party for your birthday.”

“I’m aware,” she shot back quickly. “But we all had so much fun and we wouldn’t be as loud as we were last time.”

“I said no, Maeve. You can do something with your friends if you want but we’re not doing another sleepover right now.”

You’d been hesitant about it in the first place. A group of ten and eleven-year-olds? With Harry in the house? It felt like a recipe for disaster and aside from a few excited stares when they were first dropped off, you all escaped relatively unscathed.

You worried at first about the whispers from other moms--she’s letting a twenty-four year-old live with her children?--but you soon realized that they were almost more excited about sneaking a glimpse of Harry than their daughters were.

“You’re so annoying,” she quipped from the back. “You never let me do anything fun.”

Harry’s lips twitched up in a tiny smirk, a sideways glance in your direction. You’d already told him how awkward it felt to discipline them with him right there, a glass of wine in the kitchen one night and he teased you about your frustrated mom voice.

“Maeve--don’t be rude. You just had a birthday party and now you want another, basically.”

“No, I want to have the same girls over. It’s not my birthday so it’s not a birthday party.”

A left turn into the driveway. “But you want me to order pizza and make cupcakes and you want to drink a bunch of soda again?”

“Yes.”

You pulled into the garage and cut the engine, turning to look at her. “Maeve, sweetie, I love you. But no.”

She let out a huff and shoved the door open, she typed in the entry code and slammed the door to the house before the rest of you could even climb out.

“The drama,” CeCe shook her head, tired steps towards the house.

“The drama is right,” you told her with a laugh. “Go wash up and I’ll come up in a few, okay?”

She scampered up the steps, you dropped your keys on the counter inside and then turned to look at him. “Do you have a second?”

He nodded, leaned on the counter. “What’s up?”

You didn't know if it was a good idea, but you'd spent enough morning drives to school lecturing about how honest is the best policy, so you figured you'd give it a shot.

“Uh, well--Jeff may or may not be suspicious about you and...me.”

Using the phrase made you nervous, like he’d laugh and think it was stupid. You and me.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows arched. “Did you--why did that come up?”

“Well you went to handle my crying child, which is--you know--”

He laughed a little, “too boyfriendy of me?”

Your heartbeat picked up in pace, your face felt hot and it suddenly felt like he was watching you too closely.

“No--I don’t know--you touched my back and he just asked what was happening.”

He deflated at that, hung his head low for a second and then looked up. “Oh, I--uh--I’m really sorry, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” You felt bad, that wasn’t the message you were trying to convey. If anything, you wanted to give him the out and the okay that he didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to step into your family like some hero for you or your daughters. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, I just--I don’t know where you are at, I guess.”

“And now Jeff is asking questions,” he laughed, a nod like he knew where you were going with it.

There was no label necessary. It wasn’t that type of thing, you knew that. “That’s what you walked in on after CeCe got hurt.”

Another nod, like the puzzle pieces were fitting into place. “Right. Got it. Was he--how did he seem? Did you tell him that we--”

“He put it together,” you cut him off, again careful of the words used around the girls even though they were upstairs and--by the sound of it--bickering in the bathroom. “But he was fine with it. I just think we need to be careful, you know. The girls...and this is temporary, and--”

“Absolutely.”

“So, you know, just--”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence. “I should go tuck them in.” You turned on your feet and headed for the stairs before he could reply, desperate to get out of the situation out of fear of having to find more words to string together in a messy jumble of emotions.

Another slammed door from Maeve when you reached the top of the stairs. You knocked twice. “Can I come in, please?”

“No!”

“Maeve,” you leaned against the doorframe. Harry came up and offered an awkward smile. “Please let me talk to you.”

“I’m not talking to you!” She shouted.

Harry came over and knocked. “Maeve? It’s Harry--can I come in?”

Silence for a second, her footsteps were audible on the wood floor. The door opened a crack, she peered out with narrowed eyes. “Fine--but not her.”

You looked over at Harry, unsure of his game plan but also fed up with the theatrics and the overreaction. He shrugged his shoulders half-apologetically, a smirk in your direction before he slipped into the room.

Did you stay and listen? Was it weird? What would he even say to her?

You decided against it, headed for your own bedroom and tugged on pajamas after you flicked on CeCe’s night light and kissed her goodnight. At least only one of them was being dramatic today.

Five minutes passed, then ten. You tried not to look at the clock and focused instead on a book Zoey had told you was a must read.

Eventually there was a knock on your door, Harry pushed it open and smiled. “Do you want some intel?”

“Duh,” you said. “Come in.”

He walked forward and sat on your bed, a sigh when he brought his eyes to yours again. “Well, she said you’re annoying again.”

“Of course.”

“She’s just grumpy. Said Hayley wanted to have a sleepover this weekend because it would be better at her house.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Some 5th grade rivalry.”

“Classic, really.”

You laughed. “Was she okay talking to you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyebrows low on his forehead. “Opened right up.”

“Well, we do know she likes you more.”

He rolled his eyes. “She just likes that I’m not you.”

“Feels like that’s the same thing.”

Quiet for a moment when he angled towards you, scanned your face with his eyes.

“I guess I’ll go say goodnight.”

“Oh, I tucked her in.”

Your mouth tugged into a smirk. “You what?”

“She said she didn’t want you to come in.”

“So you tucked her in?”

He let out a laugh, explained the process like it should have been obvious. “Yeah--pulled up the blanket. Patted her on the head. She said she brushed her teeth.”

You leaned back against the headboard, the same buzzing feeling in your chest took flight when he asked: “why is it so shocking to everyone that I’m good with them?”

It slipped out before you could think of the possible consequences. “Because you’re young.”

“I’m not that young.”

“And Luke was just--not like that. He was pretty disinterested after CeCe was born.” You hoped this was enough of a redirection.

“You’re really caught up on my age, aren’t you?”

“No.”

He raised his eyebrows and offered a look that said: bullshit. When he didn’t speak, you cracked a joke.

“Or...you are not hung up enough on how old I am.”

“Why should I care how old you are?”

“Cause you’ve had sex with me and you’re living in my house.”

“Both of those things I am aware of. And feel really good about both of them.”

You let out a laugh at his nonchalance, folded your arms over your chest when he stood up. “You’re something else.”

“I’m not,” you disagreed.

“I think you are,” he nodded, leaned closer to you and offered a challenging glare. His hair was messy, he’d been running around in the backyard with them at Shelli and Irv’s, a few glasses of wine in him seemed to loosen him right up to the point that he was ready to slide tackle your six-year-old.

He watched you for a second, almost like he was waiting for you to stop him. You didn’t, though, you wanted him to kiss you just as much as it looked like he wanted to close to the distance between your chests.

Instead of telling him you shouldn’t, instead of telling him that the girls were down the hall and this was risky, you pulled him on top of you, tugged him by the t-shirt until he flopped down on your bed with a laugh against your lips.

He lifted himself up after a clumsy moment, looked down at you and smirked.

“What?” You asked playfully.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been so turned on by someone in my whole life.”

His words circled around you, pulled your body up to melt into his when his hand cupped your face. He laced his fingers through the hair along your neck, the warmth from his body made your pulse rise with each second.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this when they’re home?”

If the dimples on his cheeks weren’t enough, if the way his tattoos littered his skin wasn’t enough, if the look in his eyes right now on top of you was not enough to create a full-on mom fantasy in your head, the way he talked about your daughters was.

“Yeah,” you tugged him back against your mouth, felt the way your hips tilted against his without any thought. His hands moved to your wrists, holding them in place when he trailed his lips down your jaw, down your neck, pressing kisses in a line along your collarbone.

His hands were warm when they grazed your hips, connecting with skin beneath the fabric of your shirt. You grasped for the hem of his and tugged it over his head in a quick motion, eager to reconnect and feel his skin against yours.

He tasted like wine and smelled like summer, yanked your panties down to your ankles and used his fingers to pull quiet gasps from you like no one had ever before. He held onto your headboard and thrusted into you after you begged: please, please fuck me.

S’probably my favorite thing to do, he said.

The lights were long off and when your heart beats settled and you wiped sweat from your forehead, he laced his fingers between yours.

“Does Jeff want to kill me?”

“No,” you giggled, turned on your side to get a better look at him. The moon through the window illuminated his nose, his eyebrows, the specks of light green in his eyes as they devoured you. “But I’m sure you’ll get a talking to.”

“Should I not talk to him about it?”

You knew what he was asking, you knew he really meant what am I supposed to tell him? What does this mean?

You didn’t have an answer. You didn’t know what he should say or how you should address any of this, because at the end of the day you were a mom and a business owner and he was eight years your junior. He had an album to finish and tour and you knew how that worked.

You watched your dad’s busy lifestyle pull his marriage apart at the seams. Late nights, dinner parties, too much coke in the 80s before you were born and all of those signs pointed in one direction: this would never last.

It couldn’t last, nothing about the equation made sense. Harry + you = fling, rebound, a hook up or friends with benefits type situation that would eventually fade into a memory when he went on tour or when he got the call: your house is finished!

You didn’t have to answer him, though, the pattering of feet in the hallway as a little voice shouted mommy! had you shoving Harry out of bed and onto the floor with a thud before CeCe could push the double doors open.

“Mommy! I had a bad dream!”

“Hi, honey, oh, it’s okay,” you were upright in bed and welcoming her into your arms when Harry grimaced in the dark.

He mouthed a few swear words as you held CeCe, squishing her face into your shoulder to keep her eyes from landing on Harry. You gestured at him wildly with your free hand, ordering him to duck down and remain unseen.

“It was just a dream,” you told her, “you’re okay. Do you want me to walk you back to bed?”

“No,” she cried out quickly. “Can I sleep here?”

You hesitated, then nodded and looked at Harry in the dark. “Of course, yes, you can fall asleep here and then I’ll bring you back to your room.”

“Okay,” she said, the steadiness of her voice returning when she crawled out of your lap and to the spot where Harry had just been. She tugged at the comforters, pushed the pillow in different directions before she let her head rest atop it.

She let out a sigh, her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and soon enough Harry poked his head up to look at you with wide eyes as you rubbed CeCe’s back.

You held up a finger to your mouth, gave him a threatening glare when he bit back a laugh. You rolled your eyes--it wasn’t funny. She almost walked in on the two of you and while she’d already endured some traumatic things this year, seeing her mom hooking up with the pop star from down the hall would be sure to take the cake.

When Harry caught your gaze again, you smirked, he giggled, clamped a hand over his mouth and watched you for a second.

“Be quiet!”

“You’re the one talking,” he laughed.

“Well she’s asleep now, but we can’t bring her back yet or she’ll wake up.”

“How long do we have to sit like this?”

“A while,” you told him with certainty. “This is called parenting.”

But he did, he sat on the floor on the side of the bed, watched you watch her and eventually, he picked her up from the mattress and followed you down the hall to her room. She softened into him, head on his shoulder and arms around his neck. The sight of it made you want to replay the earlier scene in your head over and over.

She didn’t stir, a few heavy sighs when you pulled the comforter back up to her shoulders, and once the door was shut behind you both, you smirked up at him.

“I think you should go back to your room.”

“Really? After all of that?”

“After almost getting caught by my six-year-old? Yes.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes playfully, crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, but maybe we can do that again at some point and have it end differently.”

You nodded. “I think that sounds doable.”

He leaned forward, kissed you quickly, and then turned to head for his own room. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

**

Harry came home from his house tour with good and bad news. The plumbing was fixed, which sped up their timeline, and yet the painters and interior decorator had gotten behind because of it, pushing the timeline out a few weeks.

You weren’t sure which part was good and which part was bad, because by now you were having trouble imagining what your house would feel like without him in it.

You got the news when he strolled in, athletic shorts and a baseball hat on his head when Jeff clapped him on the back. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Harry eyed him suspiciously, reached into the fridge for a juice box. “I live here…”

“Oh, I know you live here.”

“Hello, hi,” you waved at Jeff. “Please do not be weird.”

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Harry offered you a fake-apologetic look.

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Jeff mocked him. “Actually, I know how to be cool and not weird about the fact that my childhood best friend and my adult best friend-slash-artist are now, you know, involved.”

Your stomach did a somersault at his wording, a quick look in Harry’s direction, sure that he would deny the accusation or play it all down.

You found it hard to believe that Harry would be in support of labeling this as anything. Why on earth would a guy like him want to be tied to you with any sort of label or phrasing or word?

“Moving on,” Harry said with a nod. “Are we down to meet up with Tom and Sam tomorrow?”

“Yeah, and we have to do that phone call on Tuesday to go over tour dates.”

Maeve ran in then, a smile on her face when she looked up at Harry. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“I learned a new chord on the guitar. By myself.”

“You did?” He acted way more excited about it than he likely was.

Jeff smiled and then told Maeve: “If you learn enough chords maybe you can be his guitarist.”

“Really?!” She beamed.

“No,” you shook your head.

“Of course you would say that.”

“Maeve--you’re a kid, you can’t go on tour.”

“She’s right,” Harry said with a sweet smile, “You’re a bit too young for life on the road.”

“I’m eleven now, though!”

“I know! And very mature for eleven,” he complimented. “I’ll tell you what. You can for sure come visit and come back stage and maybe even bring a friend if your mother lets you.”

She looked to you quickly, excitement in her eyes when they all waited for your response. “Yeah--we can go at some point...see a show or something.”

“Hayley is going to die, oh my god!” She squealed with delight and then moved to sit at a stool beside Jeff.

He had half a sandwich on a plate, one he picked up on his way over for a boring Sunday afternoon of lounging by the pool. Maeve reached for a chip from the bag in front of him.

“By the way, mom, she invited me over Wednesday after school to work on a project, so can you bring me?”

“I have to bring CeCe to dance, sweetie.”

“Well I need you to bring me to the store to get supplies for this stupid poster-board thing we have to make! And Hayley’s mom said she had a question about Luna--something about a moisturizer or something.”

“I can take CeCe to dance,” Harry shrugged, almost like an onlooker in the room. “S’not a big a deal.”

“Are you sure?”

Jeff and Maeve crunched on chips between you, watching the exchange.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll just need to put her booster seat in my car.”

“And bring her a snack for after--she’s always cranky and hungry.”

He laughed, “I can manage that.”

“What would we do without you, Harry?” Maeve asked, a smile on her face.

Jeff put his chin in his hands, teasing. “Yeah, what would we do without you?”

“No one would get anywhere, people would seriously be missing out on my chicken tacos, and this house would be a lot less fun to live in.”

Maeve nodded in agreement, another chip stolen from Jeff. “True, true, and true.”

A few nights later it dawned on you that Maeve and Harry were as close as ever, spending evenings in your dad’s old office while Maeve tried to wrap her arms around a guitar long enough to strum a few chords.

CeCe didn’t seem to feel too left out, she was more than happy to be an audience for Maeve when she’d come running into the living room: Harry taught me a G chord!

On Tuesday night after school it was CeCe’s idea to go for pizza, she chirped about it in the backseat the entire way home, and after learning that the body wash production was behind schedule, you weren’t in the mood to cook.

You took Harry’s car--showed him how to strap the booster seat in and make sure it wouldn’t budge. He wore a hat and sunglasses which both girls found hilarious, but to you it was almost disheartening. What did it mean for him to be seen out with your family?

He sat beside CeCe and cut her pizza into tiny bites so it would cool off, Maeve sipped Mountain Dew from a straw and filled you in on the latest with Hayley. This week was going well, though Hayley said something annoying in the cafeteria.

It felt normal, not weird for him to be sitting across from you, his feet against yours beneath the table and a smirk in your direction every once in a while.

Both Tristan and Zoey had been dying to hear more details. It slipped out one day in the office that okay...maybe it wasn’t just a one time thing, and now the group chat you had with them was blowing up every day.

They were excited for you, rooting for your comeback and rebound and eager for you to just admit that there was something there. But you weren’t able to do that, especially not when everything in your heart wanted to.

By the time you’d all finished eating, he dipped out the back to pull the car around front. You pointed at Maeve and told her to watch CeCe while you went up to the counter to pay for the pizza.

The woman behind the register smiled when you approached. Long acrylic nails, wrinkles at the corner of her eyes made it obvious that she could have been your mother.

“We had one large plain and one small with pepperoni,” you told her.

“Oh, you’re all set, sweetie, your boyfriend paid on his way out.”

Your head pulled back in surprise. “Oh--he’s--we’re not,”

She let out a laugh at your hesitance. “He was just as taken back when I told him he had a beautiful family--said they're not his, though."

You forced a laugh, if only to match the humor in her voice when you turned on your heels to head back to your booth. The thoughts started spinning when Maeve and CeCe climbed into the back of Harry’s car.

He smiled at you when you slid in, patted you on the thigh before he turned around to make sure both girls were settled--Maeve clicked CeCe’s buckle into place and then he put the car into gear.

Sleeping with Harry was mostly meaningless, right? He was attractive and living in your house and clearly you both got something out of it. Convenient, easy, fun. Most of your brain had you convinced that there’d never be any more to it. There was no way that Harry would be interested in sticking around: two kids, a business to run. You didn’t exactly come with no strings attached.

And he corrected the woman too--not my kids, not my family, not my wife, not my anything. Had she settled on the next step down when she called him your boyfriend, or had he offered the label to avoid an awkward encounter?

It felt immature, your heart beating with urgency as you thought about it the whole way home, beads of sweat along your hairline and not from the warm weather. He sensed it, eyed you from behind his sunglasses when he parked in the driveway. Maeve and CeCe raced to the backyard, leaving the two of you alone.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, all good,” you offered a small smile, the same response you gave to one of the girls if they caught you on a bad day.

He followed you inside, kept his eyes trained on you when you dropped your purse on the counter. “What?”

“You seem off.”

“I’m fine,” you lied again. What were you supposed to say? The woman behind the register at the pizza place is making me question the relationship we have and what it means?

You weren’t 17. You were 32. He was 24. All of these numbers swirled in your head when he took a few steps closer to you, eyes out the window quickly to make sure neither of the girls were watching you through the sliding doors.

He pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, lips turned down when he looked over your face. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know,” you caught his wrist and held on for a second, like if you let go he’d disappear and take everything between the two of you with him. You closed your eyes, knew better but still said: “the woman behind the counter called you my boyfriend.”

He let out a laugh, unaware that your words were actually a confession. “She called you my wife, said the girls were cute. I told her I couldn’t take credit.”

“Yeah,” you forced another smile.

“Is that--are you, did that bother you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” he said, eyes still on you like he wasn’t quite sure where your head was at. He pressed a confusing kiss to your forehead but then said something about calling his sister. You checked work emails and night faded into morning like it always did, no matter how uncertain life was, you always had that.

The next afternoon you brought Maeve to Hayley’s, dropped her off with glue sticks and markers and a plethora of project supplies. A yoga class after that, had her home and with dinner on the stove by 6pm.

Eventually, CeCe burst through the door with a smile on her face. Her pink tutu was around her waist, her legs clad in light pink tights and her hair in a messy ponytail on top of her head. “I had the greatest time at ballet!”

You turned around in the kitchen, eager to hear about her day. “You did?”

“I did,” she nodded confidently. Harry came in the front door behind her, sunglasses on his face and CeCe’s unicorn backpack in hand. Maeve was sat at the counter with a pencil, growing angrier with fractions by the minute.

“Why’s that?”

“We danced to a fun song, and we played a fun game, and everyone loved Harry!”

Your eyebrows rose at that, eyes caught his when he lifted the sunglasses. “They did?”

“Moms, not the six-year-olds.”

This caught Maeve’s attention--she sounded almost disgusted. “Moms?”

“I guess ballet pick-up is typically a mom thing?”

You shrugged. “I mean--I don’t see a lot of dads there, so yeah.”

CeCe shimmied out of her tutu and then climbed up to a stool beside Maeve. Harry walked to hang her backpack on a hook by the backdoor, you questioned if it was even worth asking.

“Were they, like, hitting on you?”

“I mean, not really.”

“Not really?”

He walked over to the island and leaned on it, the dimple in his left cheek let you know he liked the hint of jealousy in your voice. “Maybe a little.”

Dinner simmered on the stove, evening sun brought a glow to the kitchen that made his eyes even more green than usual. When you didn’t reply he broke your gaze, let out a sigh and said: “I’m going to shower before dinner, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you nodded quickly, embarrassed by the silliness of your question. Of course the moms were hitting on him, of course they were intrigued by his presence and of course they couldn’t help but say hi or even ask for a photo. It shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest.

He was up the stairs and out of sight quickly, CeCe picked up an extra pencil of Maeve’s and started doodling on her agenda book. You pushed sautéed veggies around in a frying pan and pretended that all of this was normal.

“Hey mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like Harry?”

You turned around quickly, Maeve’s eyes were inquisitive but not judgmental.

“Do I like Harry? Of course--he’s nice.”

“No, I mean do you like like Harry?”

CeCe didn’t seem too interested in your answer, she hummed to herself and kicked her feet back and forth. Maeve, though, waited patiently while you tried to piece together words that wouldn’t make the roof blow off of your house.

“Harry and I are friends, sweetie.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

You let out a forced laugh. “What is making you ask this?”

“You seemed jealous about the other moms.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you defended. Were you really about to get into it with your eleven-year-old? Would you really defend yourself and make this the hill on which you'd die?

She watched you for a second, looked back down at the worksheet in front of her. “You seemed jealous.”

You were thankful for the fact that she wasn’t making any eye contact now. You let out a sigh and decided that not responding was your best option. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, had it been that obvious? Was she old enough to pick up on the undertones of your relationship?

You turned back to the stove, watched the vegetables sizzle in the pan as your mind started to cave in on itself. All of this was getting out of control, right? First the woman yesterday and the dizziness that overtook you when she said the word boyfriend. Now Maeve sitting at the counter with a curiosity in her that you couldn’t really blame her for.

The doorbell rang, CeCe’s head popped up in excitement. “Who is that?!”

“I don’t know,” you said. She hopped off her stool and took off the door as you followed behind her. You hadn’t planned on a visit from Jeff, maybe Tristan needed last minute approval on a product.

But when CeCe yanked the door open with both hands and an excited smile on her face, you didn’t expect to see Luke, hands in his pockets and eyebrows raised high.

“Daddy!”

“Hi sweetie,” he knelt down on one knee, wrapped his arms around her when Maeve made a noise of excitement before rushing over. She crashed into him, pushing her way into their hug.

“What are you doing here?” she asked excitedly.

“I wanted to visit, I was in the neighborhood,” he said with a shrug, eyes glancing up to you.

It was bullshit, he’d always been good at talking his way out of things or coming up with an explanation, smile sweet and words even sweeter. He backed away from them when they let go, stood back up and smiled at you, a quick nod in greeting.

“How’ve you been?”

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

tag list: @sunflowerryvol6 @trulymadlykiki @kaybee87 @thurhomish @tpwkhoney @70s-harry @la-cey @sing-me-a-song-harry @morethanamelodyy @theresnooneheretosave @ihearthemcallingforyou @sunfloweratheart @g0bl1nqueen @millennial-teenybopper @rainbowparadiseharry @justsaying20 @andwhenshesays @harryinsweatersandbandanas @harrys-cherriesss @harrys-cherrry @cronias13 @burberryharold @15christyxoxo @dayxoxodreamer @stepping-into-the-light @mvaldez7821 @barnestann @styles217 @fineelineee @ursamajor603 @tayrenea @hayyyayy @mellamolayla @lovelylemonadaddict @harrystyle-ish @harryspirate @apples2019 @rainbowbutterflyboy @goldeng1rl8 @elisassblog @staceystoleyourheart @themonsterheloved @greatestview @splendidsunsetsx @awomanindeniall @bequietdee @greeneyesandtea @sonofabitchstyles @sunsetcurve-h @dangerousdelusiondreamland @hsfics @abundanceofsoph @golden-asoab @giveyourheartabreak-xx

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fiction #harry styles story #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles reader insert #harry styles ou #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #harry styles x ocf #that makes four #unplanned #call me cat #idkthisisjustforfanfic #tmf

[itsclydebitches]

re: that ask you posted a couple days ago about the male and female representation in RWBY, part of what makes RWBY's whole 'girl power' thing ring exceptionally hollow to me is the fact that there are like... no women in positions of real power in remnant. like at all. except the big bad.

winter is second in command to james. glynda is second in command to ozpin. all of the headmasters are men (for no discernible reason, imo; why theodore and not dorothea?). the leader of the ace ops was a white man (and then winter seemed to take over clover's position instead of either of the women of color on the team, and she was still second to james). RWBY is an all girl team, but JNPR was led by a boy despite a girl arguably being far more qualified (pyrrha). the happy huntresses are all women, and robyn had no real power to speak of--she didn't even manage to win the election, because jacques rigged it, and then the council ceased to matter. there was one (1) woman on the council, but she was so inconsequential that i can't even remember her name. (i suppose we're lucky it was the guy and not her who james shot lol) jacques controls the SDC instead of willow, even though he's not even a schnee by blood and actually married into the family for power. (and we don't even know how he got it over his wife.)

and then there's the white fang, which ghira led and not kali--and it's ghira who leads menagerie itself, while kali seems to be a housewife. sienna had five minutes of screentime before being brutally killed and her position assumed by adam, a man. cordovin is basically a one off lackey we haven't even thought about before or since. neo was second to roman. you have cinder, sure, who is a second but to salem, a woman, and raven as the leader of the branwen tribe--but what does it really say about your 'girl power' narrative when the only women with genuine systemic power in your world are villains or antagonists with massive bodycounts??

atla has the same sort of problem--a couple great female characters, but all the leadership positions are men (except the kyoshi warriors, an all girls group, and even then the leader of their island is an old man) and the one female mentor figure also turns out to be evil--but it at least has some great writing to help overlook that fact, and it came out in the mid-00's and so has some sort of excuse of being a product of its time. but rwby didn't even start until 2013 and it's still going and still making these kinds of decisions well into 2021.

where is this supposed girl power, exactly? am i really supposed to overlook the very patriarchal worldbuilding just because the title characters are girls?

That's an excellent summary of the situation, anon, and as with so much in RWBY, it comes down to the full context. Any one of these examples isn't necessarily going to mean much on its own. It's when you look at the pattern that you can start making a case for those conclusions: Why is the show marketed on "girl power" set in a world where men hold the vast majority of that power? And, more importantly, why is that setup not the point? We could easily have a story where that lopsided gender dynamic is the problem that the girls are looking to fix, but... that story doesn't exist. Like the problems discussed with Jaune, the supposed point here exists only on the surface. Dig just the tinniest bit — the above — and you hit on a lot of structural problems with this "girl power" world.

To add just a few details to what you've already said:

Salem indeed has power, but she's never allowed to fully use it. Each volume the frustration with this grows as Salem accumulates more abilities and then just sits on them. From literally hiding out for a thousand years to worries that she won't use the Staff in Volumes 9-10, Salem really isn't allowed to be the threat she's presented as on the surface. And yes, this is absolutely due in part to the "She's too OP and the writers don't know how to let her be that powerful while still having the heroes win" issue, but again, context. That problem doesn't exclude others occurring simultaneously.

Same double explanation with Summer. Yes, dead moms are an incredibly common trauma to dump on a protagonist, but it still left Yang and Ruby with Tai as their primary influence. And Qrow. The uncle becomes the extended family influence while Raven is the absent one/eventual antagonist. It's personal power as opposed to political power, but Tai, Qrow, Ozpin, formerly James... most of the mentors are men. Maria, a key exception, has been ignored in that regard. The story announced that she was Qrow's inspiration, setup her being Ruby's new mentor, and then... nothing. Nothing has come of that. She disappeared for a volume and then went off to Amity and was literally forgotten by the story when evacuating everyone was the finale's whole point.

Like that Endgame moment I mentioned, the Happy Huntresses feel a little too forced to me. Yes, it's the same basic idea as in ATLA, but ATLA, as you say, has a lot more going for it. The Happy Huntresses feel... on the nose? Idk exactly how to explain it. Like, "Here they are! Another team of all women! Isn't this how progressive storytelling works? Just ignore how this is a one-off team of minor characters compared to the world building issues discussed above." And if you're not paying attention, you miss just how insignificant they are, with a side of Robyn being, well, Robyn. The Kyoshi Warriors, at least, are based off of Kyoshi. A woman avatar who is a significant part of their history. That is, presumably, why they're an all women warrior group (but who notably still teach Sokka). The Happy Huntresses are all huntresses because...? There's no reason except that meta "We want to look progressive" explanation. Just like having all the women superheroes team up for a hot second so people get excited and ignore the representation problems across, what? 21 films? Don't get me wrong, I love that May is among the Happy Huntresses. I think including her in the explicitly all-women group was one of the better things RWBY has done in a long time, but the rest is still a mess.

RWBY is arguably about these smaller groups as opposed to systematic power (despite the writers trying to work that in with things like the White Fang and the election. Not to mention the implication that everything in Atlas is fine now that evil Ironwood has died and taken the symbol of wealth (the city) with him. We saw a human holding hands with a faunus after all. Racism and corruption solved, I guess.) So yes, our group is dominated by women... but Whitley is the one saving Nora, helping to defeat the Hound (plus Willow), thinking of the airships, and providing the blueprints they need to escape. Salem is our Big Bad, except Ironwood is the one the volume focuses on. Ruby is our leader, but Jaune is the one leading the group into the whale and getting praised for how heroic he is. Ren does more to shake things up, even if he's painted as the one in the wrong. Oscar gets to confront Salem and destroys the whale threat. Ozpin provides the information they need to evacuate. Meanwhile, when the girls do things in Volume 8 it's almost always followed by a long-stint of passiveness. Nora opens the door so she can be unconscious for most of the volume. Penny keeps Amity up so she can also be unconscious for a good chunk of time. Ruby sends her message and then sits in a mansion. Blake fights so she can tearfully beg Ruby to save her. Weiss, as said, takes a backseat to Whitley (and Klein). They forward the plot, absolutely, but comparatively it doesn't feel like enough.

It's that pattern then, no one specific example. More and more the personal power, not just the systematic power already built into Remnant, seems to be coming from the men. Not all the time, but enough that scenes like the tea drinking moment feel like a part of a much larger problem. Pietro taking control, Watts hacking, and Ambrosius literally remaking her when Penny is supposed to already be in control of herself and her fate. Winter being presented as the active mentor to Weiss, only to turn around and claim that Ironwood was actually responsible for everything. Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and May straight up commenting on how awful things are out there while Yang, Jaune, Ren, and Oscar lead the charge against Salem — with the latter three doing the most to forward that mission (no fear, semblance, cane). As others have only half-joked, Yang's supposedly badass moment was bringing up a mother she's ignored for six volumes and briefly blowing up the immortal woman for a couple of seconds (with Ironwood's bombs). Even Marrow is arguably the most significant Ace Op after Clover. Vine isn't actually a character, Elm slightly less so, Harriet is there to go crazy and try to drop a bomb (notably before admitting to never-before-existed feelings for Clover), but Marrow? He's the one who breaks out. Who is meant to heroically stand up against Ironwood. Who comments on how awful it is that teenagers are fighting and, regardless of how messed up the moral messages are, is supposedly pushing for active change while all the women in his group, including Winter, insist on maintaining the status quo. Look at all these choices as a whole, it makes throwaway worldbuilding choices like "All the Maidens are women" feel pretty hollow. Why does it matter if Amber is a Maiden if she dies in a flashback so Ozpin can struggle to pass on the power? If Pyrrha dies before becoming one so Jaune can angst about it? If Raven is one and then disappears from the story entirely? If Winter has enough power to break Ironwood's aura, but supposedly had no power throughout every other choice she made getting here? If Penny is one, but is continually controlled by men and then asks another man to help her die? It's just really unconvincing, once you look past the surface excitement of a woman looking cool with magic powers.

When you do consider the whole of the story — both in terms of our world building and who is forwarding the plot in the latter volumes, getting the emotional focus, being proactive, etc. — there are a lot of problems that undermine the presumed message RT wants to write. They say, "girl power" by marketing RWBY with these four women, but too many of the storytelling decisions thoroughly undermine that, revealing what's likely a deeply ingrained, subconscious bias.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas