#oh fuck it who am i kidding i would make those writing updates even if no one gave a fuck

[cluelylikesporn]

okay exam update cuz im actually really pissed off.

so im autistic + adhd, and only been diagnosed relatively recently, so i havent really been getting assistance until now. (autism diagnosis last year, adhd 2 years ago.)

my last exam was (still is) this period, and im going home once i finish it. one of my other exams i was sent to special ed (it’s called different things in australia and other schools but i dont wanna get doxxed) and the chick helping me (we’ll call her charlie) told me she couldnt even read the questions out to me… like i legit get more help in my normal exam conditions.

she told me WHILE HAVING A PANIC ATTACK “i think i know why your so upset, because you know you dont listen in class and just sleep and draw on your hand.” cunt, what..?

HOW ARE YOU WORKING WITH NEURODIVERGENT KIDS..?

i literally have spent my whole life wondering why i cant listen in class and hearing “just reread it.” or “your not listening hard enough.” is so fucking tiring. maybe explain it? she refused to help me because i “wasnt approved” to have a helper

the school knows im autistic so why do i have to be approved to get the help i need? like you dont have to make up all these forms and files. you have teachers who can help me literally in the building who could help me but you refuse.

okok i got rlly off topic but tldr on what happened today:

my teacher sent me to the special ed area to do my exam (last time he did they told me to go back) also shout out to my english teacher hes a legend. he gave me my sheet, i took a ritalin, said bye to the people i liked and left. (i used to take ritalin daily but now i jst take it to focus better in exams and shit)

i went to se and saw a couple kids i knew. one i hated and didnt know why he was there, one who has some mental problems so i understood why he was there. hes a sweetie. and some chick i knew who broke her wrist and had to write on a laptop.

so one by one they were assigned a teacher who would sit with them and help them/ read out questions and then the lady said “oh chloe your not supposed to be here, you have to go back to class.”

are you fucking kidding me.

i completely understand its not her or my teachers fault im not meant to be there, but im allowed to be a little frustrated. i asked why i kept getting sent here and why i couldn’t get help.

same shit about documents and boring stuff.

keep in mind i get ndis funding so i thought that would impact my education experience but nope, literally nothing. i also understand there could be things my mum hasnt done and that’s completely ok she has her own life, but also THE SCHOOL KNOWS IM AUTISTIC. that should be enough. its like i only get the help if i start ditching class and become an eshay or some shit like i shouldnt have to become a troubled kid to get help.

so the lady said my only benefit i even got from the school is like 5 minutes extra time. and she told me i could either go back to class or do my exam here( which means i could get no help/ questions read to me.)

ngl this was dumb of me but i said ok bc i didnt want to go back to class after saying bye to everyone😭

so i sat there with one airpod in, a pen that didnt fucking work, the only help i could get was eavesdropping on what the assistant teachers were saying but they were so quiet. i did manage to write some stuff but it was pretty fucking stressful. i couldnt stop thinking about what charlie said (the lady helping me with my maths the week before.)

this may sound super dumb but i saw a crow fly onto a table outside and i felt like it was watching over me. like it was looking right at me. it made me feel a bit better and i got some work done.

it wouldve been fine if those fucking assistant teachers didnt keep giving me pitiful looks like bro. i know im fucked.

anyway i finished my exam (barely) and went to the bathroom to tell my friend ab what happened, caught a bus home and am about to play dbd 😾

sorry for the long post im jst so pissed😭 but ily guys and ill post i swear🙏

song of the day:

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #spotify #the walking dead #dead by daylight #metal #metallica #elvira #autism #adhd #spiderman #scott pilgrim #rammstein #elton john #australia #exams

[charmac]

helllooooo i am absolutely obsessed with your macden sugar daddy fic. i’m not kidding when i say it has become a household name for me (in the dms with my poor, dear friend who does not even watch sunny. i have, and will continue to, bombard her with messages such as: “the macdennis fic i’ve been creaming over hasn’t been updated i’m in shambles” and thankfully you did update after that).

i went through your tumblr for a bit and saw in one of your responses you mentioned feeling a lack of encouragement to write when it feels like no one is actively requesting so i suppose this is my formal request. i am quite literally so emotionally invested in this fic. this is my high class literature (as a lit major). this is my magnum opus and i’m talking about the experience of READING it, not trying to imply this work is in any way mine.

i have sooo much i’d like to say about it but i get so scatterbrained when i think about it. i read the entire thing in one sitting and was in agony when i finished. then you updated on christmas and i read the entire thing AGAIN and i keep going back to that most recent chapter where (spoilers ig!) mac calls dennis daddy because it simply /felt right/. because he felt /safe/? oh i’m on the floor and begging for mercy. you’re brilliant. this story is brilliant. i’m a mess.

if you ever feel like people might not be interested: listen to me when i say your writing has permanently altered the chemistry of my dna and has conditioned me to check ao3 every single day with bated breath HOPING there’s an update. i love it. that’s an understatement. i LOVE IT.

i would also like to clarify that if you ever run into issues with writer’s block or even simply losing the excitement over this specific story, pls don’t feel obligated to write something you don’t want to. it’s your life!! i saw your 2023 update post and it seems like a fucking fantastic one at that, so live it to the fullest and do what you want!!

i think you’re neat. i think your writing is what leads good men to ruin (like me. i’m supposed to be reading jane eyre rn and all i can think of is your fic) /pos. truly my favorite source of sunny content across all your sunny social media.

question that i do apologize for asking if you’ve answered: the title is a fall out boy reference, right? big fan of that band. if it is, can i ask for details on the inspo?

thank u for your service solider o7

p.s. this was so needlessly long so sorry for bothering lmfaoooo but i had to say this somewhere and i think my friend is tired of hearing about the fanfic on a ship for a show she doesn’t even watch

First off, thank you so much for this, and second off don’t apologise for writing too much to me after you’ve seen the word count I spew out at random. I really appreciate your words, and I’ll tell you I’ve been in so many similar positions where I’ve been obsessed with a fic and had no one in it to relate to and have just ended up spamming a close friend instead, so to hear that’s done about my fic is really, really cool.

About prior asks, etc. I think I get down on myself a little, when I say I don’t get why people are reading or what they like and it’s hard to find motivation, it’s really just kinda my own internal struggle with all of that. (Also, I keep answering those when I'm drunk, my bad.) I get what I’m doing and what I’m writing, but I wanna make sure the audience does too. But you’re reading my words, so you must, even if you can’t (or just, don’t want to) sit down and go line-by-line of a 23k word chapter and tell me what’s going on.

Cause, I couldn’t sit down and write a full detailed list of every new episode of Sunny like that. Like, I just straight up couldn’t when they dropped. My reviews were like ‘5 stars, keysmash’ So I think there is something to be said about people really liking something, really wanting more, but maybe not having the words to vocalise or not having the time to vocalise why that is.

About wait times, updates, etc.. It is mainly about motivation, and like you’ve said I would never put out something just to put it out if it’s not reflective of what I want it to be (and know it can be). I mean, I’m not on a real deadline and I’m not getting paid, I'm writing this first and foremost for myself, so why would I rush it? Sometimes I can write thousands of words in a day, if the spark hits, but sometimes it can take months to fully form when it’s just me in my head and I still have to do shit in my daily life. And maybe I could do something to speed up that process, but I think my best work forms this way. But it does make updates painfully slow for you guys, and I apologise, cos I get that sucks.

Though, it is also spurred by external motivation: people pointing specific things out, telling me why they like something or what they see under the surface here, that stuff actually gets the gears in my head turning, back in focus. The ‘waiting for an update’ ‘pls write more’ isn’t motivation, it’s demand. (And understanding there is demand is definitely a motivator, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not a spark, it’s a push.) So the balance there is sometimes hard to match, I understand there is demand (though after Ch 7 or 8 whatever it was I genuinely thought maybe there wasn’t), and I appreciate being told that, but it can only go insofar as I have the motivation to bounce off of it. Sometimes, that’s literally just my own issue and no one can help me. You (not you, specifically, anon) just gotta trust an update will come... and if you fall out of care for Sunny in the meantime, oh well. Know I won't, lmfao.

About the Title, well, no one actually has asked me... I don't think (maybe 'cause it seems obvious?). I guess the answer is.. kind of? It is a lyric pulled from the Fall Out Boy song, but, well, a meme says it best:

The inspo is kinda what's written on the tin, wanted a title that makes it clear what it is. Don't read too much into the baseball metaphor though, it might hurt you a little in the spoilers department, if you think we're just purely having fun here...

Thanks for the ask, really really appreciate it, and knowing people like you are reading and enjoying my fic is awesome :)

#i do LIKE the song btw lmfao #i had a huge fob phase in 9th grade when save rock and roll came out #it just makes the meme funnier #but also it is true #the only inspo for pulling from the song lyric is that it worked on the level i needed it to #convey info for the plot #also now all my macden fics are song lyrics or titles bc of this one lmfao #ask #sugar daddy au

[thegeminisage]

TNG UPDATE TIME. it's been ages. monday we did "a matter of time" (boo) and wednesday we did "new ground" (holy shit).

a matter of time: did you guys know the little guy here played pestilence on spn? his vibes were horrific. he was awful. i don't say that about the actor himself, who was obviously very good if he could get us to lean back from our screens like that, but i did NOT like that. not one bit. now every time i see him in spn gifs i get scared

anyway it's been awhile since we had such a huge dud and i did not miss it. everybody was extra stupid this episode to make the bad guy seem smart, My Least Favorite. he was also there ALL THE TIME instead of giving us a break from him which was also super awful

also he tried to kidnap data, though i love that he failed hilariously and also they made a new jersey joke

i predicted the twist of this episode - that he was from the past, not the future - about halfway through. so at least i get to feel accomplished about something.

i do like that deanna told him to fuck off. she's never mean to anybody but he REALLY deserved it

new ground: I LOVE WORF................

i'm soooo mad at people in the star trek calling worf a deadbeat dad. idk if he does something shitty later but i totally understood the ethical dilemma in this ep maybe even perhaps better than the writers wanted me to bc the thing is like. sorry

CHILDREN

SHOULD

NOT

BE

ON

STARSHIPS

sorry to families with children. sorry to single mothers and actually to women everywhere. sorry even to wesley crusher, my perfect precious baby boy, who i will defend with my life. they SHOULD NOT BE ON STARSHIPS.

like, ok. let's get into it. i did think it was wack that worf initially sent alexander to his human parents...but that's because he wanted his son to have access to klingon society, which was something he himself DID NOT HAVE and COULD NOT GIVE ALEXANDER had anyone known alexander was worf's son. it was TOTALLY REASONABLE for worf to be thrown headfirst into parenthood and be smart enough to say, not only am i incapable of raising a child at this juncture in my life, i am incapable of connecting him to his culture, WHICH

WAS ALSO DENIED TO HIM. BY HIS MOTHER!!! LET'S NOT FORGET HIS MOM HATED KLINGONS like ik the writers forgot but EYE DIDN'T!!!!!!!!!

alexander's mother was a half-klingon woman who HATED KLINGONS. she at MULTIPLE POINTS made racist remarks about them and self-disparaging remarks about her own klingon heritage. she even gave alexander, despite being "more" klingon than human dna-wise, a HUMAN NAME. obviously the tng writing room wasnt going yeah ofc worf wants him to have access to klingon culture after all that but OFC HE DOES

which makes it wack to me that he sent alexander off to live with his parents and not his brother. NO ONE KNOWS kurn is worf's brother. he could have raised alexander on the klingon homeworld as his own, or even as his nephew, and no one would ever have known he was connected to worf. whereas sending alexander to live with the humans who raised worf is a huge indicator that he is worf's child

one might say, well he thinks klingon schools would be too harsh for this kid who was essentially raised as a human. this is a legitimate and valid concern he has in the episode as well. worf would not be as harsh as the klingon schools but he WOULD give alexander access to his klingon heritage. so that's the happy medium! as a side bonus we also don't give alexander EVEN MORE abandonment issues. the problem is,

CHILDREN SHOULDN'T BE ON A STARSHIP. we see in this very episode why they shouldn't be on a starship. "oh the saucer can separate whenever to protect the kiddos" SPACE IS DANGEROUS. they never have the budget or the time to separate the saucer. they just take all those little guys into horrible experiments whenever. i could almost understand if it was like, a spaceship that just delivered freight or something but it's an EXPLORATORY SHIP its SOLE PURPOSE is to head into unknown dangers. DON'T TAKE CHILDREN.

meanwhile worf is late to work meetings and gets commed twice about his kid while he's trying to explain himself to picard like...now you've got to consider the fact that people on the enterprise live at their workplace. they are basically on call 24/7. like if a space disaster strikes it is not gonna wait until you are through with your weekend relaxation or are finished putting your kid to bed. you CAN'T be on a starship and raise your child at the same time because as a parent you have to put your child first always and as a starship officer where EVERYONE COULD DIE AT ANY TIME you have to put the ship first always and TWO THINGS can't BOTH be first priority

like, worf is literally doing the best he can. maybe he should have sent alexander to live with his brother when he was still a little squirt but it may be too late for that now. there are quite literally no good options here to this moral dilemma of "where does my baby belong" which is actually so good because worf ALSO doesn't have a place he totally belongs. they both have a foot in each world. i bet it would be really good if it wasn't on tng

ANYWAY. sorry. there's a post in the george kirk tag about star trek fathers that disses worf and it makes me see red every time. wow! TONIGHT: "hero worship" (forboding title i hate tng episodes with kids) and "violations" (equally forboding title but here's hoping it just means we'll be playing riker roulette).

#personal #star trek blogging #tng lb

[yourfriendlyshapeshiftermonsters]

III NEW EPISODE SPOILER ALERT.

It's honesty just me rambling about the show,you may kept on scrolling.

Honesty? The episode was 7 or 8 ish outta ten.

It was fine and nice one,i don't have strong opinions on me especially when my brain tuning out two times from heing overwhelmed but it was a fine episode. But here's what i thought:

sorry,i know it's balloon imagination. but cheesy voice act hurts my ear. And the fact that bro literally said that balloon already done so much and sacrifice himself even tho by logic,he definitely would only exist for an episode feels funny. And don't let me start talking about the simp superman fantasy novel hehe... This 'writing challenge' draws each character perspective pretty nicely tho

Feels like some of the challenge was a reverence from the other show

this whole innerflame things was getting pretty.. Something. Sorry i don't know how to word it out. But am i the only one who feels this was just. Idk,i'm feeling like those feelings that i felt on most of the iii episode but a bit less ig. at least i can make my candle au innerflame a pretty destructive one as shown on the episode hehe

Cabby protecting the sea pup was definitely on character.

Throw the thingy in - ppt2

Balancing - hfjone

Imma update soon once i find others

Theory:

springy and walkie talkie are cobs worker/creation to distract me phone from getting back into season 2 problem he caused. But honesty? knowing the man, He wouldn't go through that such leght. He gave me energy that he would rather copy other company idea and pass it as his own or create his own bot/use an ai to create the whole season and only hire people to make the quality good at puking a fuck ton of rainbow and random action for the kids to not get distracted but got confused when people said it's the worst thing ever because he thought that good animation style=your series was automatically awesome even tho if it was a me phone,it would explode at the second it was finished. How i get that idea you may ask? Well i'm definitely not putting cob as springy on my au.. Heh.

Wait what i was talking again? Oh yeah

since this season feels like it was more into focusing at one theme at a time. springy would give out some sort of symbolism too,like. walkie and springy definitely represent those companies that buy another company/cartoons and milks the fuck out of it.making them soulless as hell. Walkie talkie definitely show the manager who pushed it worker the most... Ehem ehem- disney..

Orr they draw how the fans wanted to kept the show on and on. Society pressure and stuff. But i honesty didn't see that one

the walkie talkie person real identity would 100% be showed next episode. Like cmon,i wouldn't believe a non faced objects to be alive. No,we don't talk about season 1.

#ii spoilers #inanimate insanity #iii spoilers

[atherix]

Ooh atherix, once again it is morning for me. No wonder i had this tiny gut feelin to tell me to check ur blog up and lo and behold, a new chapter has dropped.

I gotta say, i LOVE the way you write. Especially the way you describe the place, the little things mumbo sees and all that. And do not get me started with how soft Mumbo is with tubbo. Just,,,,the way you write makes ME feel soft, its like watching a kid with an awkward step dad who loves the kid with all his heart but doesnt fuckin know how to act around them and afraid they'll hate u wjxjdjd

And oh man, the snippet that u showed us?? I went thru like a whole JOURNEY over that before i got to that part of the fic. I thought at first, it was tubbo. Bc knowing tubbo, he is a petty kid who will not hesitate to call you bs out. But then i rmb the mimics and went like 'hmmm maybe its those mimics??' And BOOM it was.

And those mimic, BRO I LOVE THEM. I mean i hate how cruel they were but they are an amazing specimen to a writer's eye KEKW. I just loves creatures that can fuck you up mentally or even used your deepest desires and insecurities to their advantage wjdbdbd.

These types of creatures are fascinating in itself, but what makes it a fine specimen for writers is cause they force your characters to realise what their inner problems are, and it can help them tackle them either on their own or someone else finally helps them with it. In othr words GOOD CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT MATERIAL WOOOOO

Anyway this fic isnt as painful as the previous one which made me a bit scared but veru excited. I am current rattling the bars of my cage as we speak out of excitement for it.

- purp anon

Look. It is a good idea to always check my blog because I update at the most random times. 4 PM on a Wednesday? Sure. 3 AM that Thursday? Why not. <3

fhdsjfghsdjk thank you so much!! <3 I love like... "painting" the environment ya know? <3 I try to be loose enough that people can imagine while having enough details to try and paint a picture... and allude/hint to certain things <3 Look. LOOK. I am thoroughly enjoying the slow adoption of Tubbo. I am enjoying the dadification of Mumbo and Grian. I am. Delighted <3 I am so glad other people are enjoying it too <3

Oh Tubbo will ABSOLUTELY call you out on your BS. However, he also knows Scar loves Mumbo very much and is happy they're finally together (he won't say it out loud, of course). He ALSO wasn't actually aware of the state of Scar and Mumbo's relationship- all he knew was Mumbo was a "good man" who happened to be a Vampire, a client of Scar's, and Scar has been crushing on him since basically the start. So it wouldn't have been him saying those things <3 Yes. Mimics my beloathed hjkgfjkkjgf-

I LOVE THE MIMICS TOO. I love some mind fuckery. Emotions? WRECKED. Life? DESTROYED. They will drag out your deepest insecurities and fears that you've refused to put a name to and hit you with it before you even get the chance to process it's THERE. I love it. They're a little (real: a lott'a) fucked up and they got the spirit <3

YES. It forces them to confront the deeper parts of themselves and gives them a chance to fix things before they manifest in the worst possible ways <3 YEEEE <3

Haha this chapter certainly doesn't have the impact the last one would have. Literally no one knew it was coming, not even Stitch <3 It came out of NOWHERE and I was DELIGHTED hehehe. Don't be scared, there's no reason at all to be afraid <3 Hehehe-

#ask #Midnight Series #Purp Anon

[lochrannn]

Maybe how to stick to finishing your wip? Setting up fic goals? I have a tendency to abandon my wips for stupid reasons, start something new and so on and I hate it.

Mmmhh, I think this one is hard to answer, cause I really am not usually the type of person who even starts a job, let alone finishes it. Many of my irl friends would point to me as the person they know who procrastinates the hardest on basically anything.

But I think I've worked out why, I personally, stick with writing fic and usually don't abandon anything and write it within a relatively short amount of time.

I have a philosophy degree.

And though I loved studying philosophy, writing fucking essays and term papers was just genuinely the hardest mental work I've ever needed to do. Cause, yeah, sure you can research shit and bring together a lot of existing theories and ideas. But, anon, I tell you, I was actually quite good and suddenly had some ambition about a thing when I was at college (after spending all of my high school years coasting on the privilege of being okay smart and having highly educated parents), which meant I couldn't just phone it in, or didn't even just want to do a decent job, I wanted to write something good.

And fuck that was hard. I spent months tinkering with a paper, having found a subject I found interesting and trying to work out what my angle is, what my unique contribution could be. That basically meant staring at a flickering curser for hours and hours and hours and "thinking" (read panicking).

But somehow I managed to get a decent degree, said thanks no thanks to the offer of doing a phd and got the hell out of college to go do other stuff for a while and then finally trained in a very solid job that allows me to do relatively challanging work with cool people, but I never really have to produce anything or come up with major ideas on my own and that suits me just fine.

However, I accidently stumbled on writing fic as a thing that I enjoy creating/producing, and because we all basically know how a narrative works, most of the points beats along the way are easily set (I don't usually deliberately lift those whole-sale from a different narrative, except for my pride and prejudice and sense and sensibility inspired aus) but I don't kid myself into believing that my fic is in anyway particularly original.

So yeah, I just know which beats I want to hit and then I write what needs to happen to get there. Occasionally that's just pretty straight forward, not too flashy that I can't actually commit to it, but just well enough that, at least that's how it seems to me, the story flows and my "style" or "voice" kind of fades into the background. And then occasionally I come up with something that really makes me quite happy and I personally find rather artistic (like in the fic I posted yesterday, there was a bit that made me feel things). And then it's a bit more challanging but effectively as satisfying as painting by numbers.

So it doesn't scare me to have a story that I "need" to finish, cause I know I can and I know I will. I also have spent years and decades finding cool fics that got abandonned halfway through and hoping for years that they might get updated, so, maybe a little bit of guilt is also spurring me along.

Oh, and honestly, find yourself someone to commit to. Tell someone about your wips (unless of course this puts uncomfortable amounts of pressure on you) and then finish it for them. I talk to @pepperf about most of the stories I plan (unless I want them to be a surprise for her as well), even though she's much nicer than me and doesn't bully me into continue writing and if I abandonned somehting would never say anything. And I made a wip post that I feel I've committed to, because some of them are prompts and just generally I fear I could disappoint some anonymous reader of mine.

I guess, mostly if you want a tip, don't put yourself under too much pressure, but put yourself under a little pressure. Find yourself a hype person, or be your own hype person and feel excited about your stories.

I am, as some anon shokedly realised a few months back, probably a decade or so older than the majority of the people who frequent this website (I've been here for twelve years, I have squatter's rights) so through a mixture of always having a mildly inflated ego and age, I think I have a decent amount of confidence. And I have confidence in my stories. Yeah, I can easily tell how they compare to better writers, but I also think they are perfectly adequate and entertaining and they're the sort of thing I would want to read.

So, yeah, put a little bit but not too much pressure on yourself, and indulge yourself. It's supposed to be a hobby.

(oh, also, I only ever start writing when I'm relatively sure I've actually got enough of an idea to finish it. Everything else is not an abandonned wip, it's a wonderful day dream <3)

#i'm sure this is muuuuuuuuuuuuuuch longer than what you were expecting XD #fic writing #long post #anon ask

[letstrywritingmaybe]

On the agenda for today: send out love letters cause I owe comments, irl stuff (I really need to do laundry…), read my library book, listen to the new twenty one pilots album cause I’ve been slacking, watch hockey (fuck the rangers all my homies hate the rangers. But also why is Krieder not the captain??? That man bleeds Rangers blue!), I’ve already replied to comments and wrote the next chapter of the fake dating fic so I guess any other writing will be considered a bonus to me… oh wait, I should work on CoAi week. Damn it. Okay yeah I’m not getting everything I want done today. My main priority should be CoAi week but realistically I need more fluff in my life

Update: love letters sent <3 hockey watched *sigh fuck the rangers but Wennberg is a cutie. Started my book and laundry! Now onto baseball and finishing irl things and maybe some writing. Idk I’m not really feeling any pull but we’ll see. I’m reading Rebecca, I think Tay read it? I think I saw a tumblr post about how she did or maybe it was in the long pond doc? Idk but yeah already I’m like girlie this is not it. You deserve a nice romance, you’re so young, I don’t mind age gaps but she hasn’t seen the world and gotten to experience so many things and to just settle down like this? And yeah he didn’t even say he loves you! What are you doing!! Omm I’m reading and filling myself with dread over this poor girl. I’ve only just begun and already I’m like you deserve better. I think I’m projecting my feelings for my queen onto her even though I don’t think Shiho is anything like her. Idk I’m feeling like I need to write now, but what idk, I just need to escape and I suppose that’s fitting given the book I’m reading

Update 2: Not to be annoying, (I always am) but I had some banger ideas with my year of the otp prompts. Like I would read most of these as actual fics. Which I mean I’m self indulgent so duh but damn. Since idk what to write I was hoping by I could expand on one of those verse but it’s not what I want to write. I’m feeling sorta royal verse vibes but more so in the arranged marriage scene? But not for shinshi like they’re betrothed to others but they meet and a whirlwind romance ensues and fuck it lets get married and deal with the fallout later. Yeah that’s what I’m feeling right now. Like two rebellious kids who are sick of being responsible, who cares about consequences and scandals? They know what they feel now and they’re going to go after it even though every one tells them it’s a mistake and when reality hits it does feel like it’s a mistake but then… they’re alone and all the doubts disappear

Update 3: I’ve gotten zero writing done but I went back through the year of the otp prompts and my American football AU still gets me!!! That is the absolute most self indulgent thing I’ve ever written and I love it! Literally I know no one else gives one single fuck but I love that verse! It is so me coded, rereading it I was like Omm yes football!! Dude I kinda miss when I had month projects like that cause they were so soft but also some were super challenging cause I don’t vibe with certain ideas. Like the shift shaper one? But that one was so freaking soft and they were so hopeless for each other. The bond between the moms and shinshi too like I can’t. More fics that mention familial relationships too please! But for real how did I manage to do that? I sometimes wonder how I can turn any situation into fluff? And maybe that’s why I made things super difficult with the fake dating verse. But also I didn’t do my usual here’s a massive dump of fluff to make up for the angst…. Maybe I should write an extra? I mean I thought about writing their rated moments as an extra already but I think we need to see their soft moments too. Idk. I hate when I feel like I kinda wanna write but then I also don’t? It’s very annoying

#cynful babbles

[oasis-of-you]

A BATTLEFIELD IS BUT A GRAVEYARD ONCE A WAR IS WAGED

(yes i caved and made another wip introduction) hellooo from my heart nestled between bone and muscle and sinew at an ungodly hour of night to yours, wherever and whenever that may be, i introduce to you my new wip, ABIBAGOAWIW (wow that is one long-ass acronym and one long ass run-on sentence)

trigger warnings for this entire project (more specific tws will be added in the tags + beginnings of all posts surrounding this project, but if any of these topics trigger you in any way, i highly recommend avoiding the taglist/blocking the tag for this wip, #abibagoawiw): death, violence, gore, blood, body horror, mental illness, alcohol, smoking

A BATTLEFIELD IS BUT A GRAVEYARD ONCE A WAR IS WAGED is a collection of short stories surrounding a singular theme; death and its aftermath. death falls upon us like a heavy stone in a lake on a black night, creating ripples that never quite settle. through this collection of eulogies, autopsies, and funeral speeches far too numerous to keep a person sane (as if they were even sane to begin with), we'll glide a finger through the black, silken water, through these ripples, and search for the stone that caused them. (oh also it focuses mainly on the desi/indian/desi-american experience)

CAUTION, THIS WORK OF FICTION IS: grim, desolate, aggressive, melancholy, bitter, violent

STAGE: all in different stages, including editing, drafting, and planning (none are quite complete yet)

GENRE: litfic bitch!! and sudden bouts of surrealism

SETTING: switches between india and indian people as immigrants across the globe

THEMES: death, the aftermath of death, the meaning of life, the meaning of death, adolescence, drifting (the loss of a person in absence of death), childhood trauma, good and evil (and one's place in it), regrets, growth, change

AESTHETICS (pspsps these are all actually random objects that i create symbolism out of in these short stories): a cracked pot, thick smoke, empty hallways, broken rearview mirrors, cracked fingertips, red eyes, new car smells, gray skies, gasoline, rust, hospital smells

POSTS I'LL BE MAKING IN THE NEAR FUTURE ABOUT THIS WIP (hopefully): individual introductions to short stories, updates, tag games, and maybe some stuff about the process of going through with writing these

WHAT ELSE CAN I TELL YOU? i'm currently working on draft 2 for one of the stories, draft 1 for another, and outlining for several! i'll be using this wip as a way to catch up with a lot of tag games!! this is my first serious short story project, and it's going swimmingly!! (more on that in another post, i think) it was inspired by the p*ndemic and seeing so many people dead so quickly, and their families being so helpless to it. and then it turned into me giving all the characters absolutely no communication skills and loads of emotional baggage :) hehe :)

the cursed pinterest board (i really spent an hour straight on this someone help 0_o)

image cred: x

[image ID: in the foreground is a corner of a grimy brick roof with a monkey sitting crouched on the edge. it overlooks a riverbank. rectangular, flat-roofed houses fade off in the distance to the left. stairs descend from the houses to the river. smoke renders trees and buildings in the distance as silhouettes. in the center of the saturated image, in white serif all-caps font, are the words "A BATTLEFIELD IS BUT A GRAVEYARD ONCE A WAR IS WAGED" end ID]

(me tagging my other taglists for this wip is a one-time thing. to watch me go insane in real time as i write this, ask/comment/dm to be added to the permanent taglist for this wip. again, please check the trigger warnings before getting on the taglist)

TEMPORARY taglist: @hazard-writes @andiwriteunderthemoon @alicewestwater @august-iswriting @epiephrons @bakaree @dallonswords @kitastrophic-writing (cool new url bestie) @yejidoesthings @siona-valentine @piyawrites @writingbyjillian @finch-goes-write @keep-looking-here @viawrites-andacts @jawbonemage

#death tw #covid tw #:D im so glad i made this #made it more on a whim of escapism but ive been working on it for a couple months now #its pretty neat :D #this is pretty cool im proud of this #:D #abibagoawiw #im so excited to introduce the individual stories #also im thinking of doing monthly writing updates where i let myself ramble about the work ive gotten done #and maybe like goals for the next month and strategies i used and what i enjoyed and what worked #that would be fun though im not sure how many people would be interested in that #oh fuck it who am i kidding i would make those writing updates even if no one gave a fuck #i think i'm going to do it to keep myself accountable

[leupagus]

Seraphinaverse fics, or, goddamn y’all

One of the highest honors that can ever be bestowed on a fanfic writer is to have someone else write fic of their fic. When I started writing "a kind of dwell and welcome," I hoped it would be a short (lol) little story that would be fun and heartwarming and make people as happy reading it as it made me writing it.

Little did I know.

I've been meaning to draw up this list for a while, but you folks keep writing more incredible stories. So I'll update this as needed but for now, here are the eleven (ELEVEN) fics-of-fic that are, truly, some of the best writing I've ever been fortunate enough to read. I am putting them in roughly chronological order for anyone who wants to have a treat of a weekend read.

These laboratories and those picnics by another_Hero

Trent and Seraphina get a bad cold and Ted comes over to make them chicken soup. That's it — and it's perfect. The first fic-of-fic written as well as the first chronologically, it absolutely floored me. One thing I absolutely adore about their writing is how tender they are with their characters, giving weight to moments and gestures that knock you clean out of your socks. I’m also a sucker for a good didactic story, and this one delivers in spades in re: teaching how to make chicken soup from scratch.

take me apart by ladyfairhair

A lovely, contemplative expansion of one scene within "a kind of dwell and welcome," where Ted and Trent are still negotiating their romantic and sexual boundaries; it's lovely and hot and shows a very new side of Ted, the side that is able to slow down just a little bit and take in all that Trent's offering him. I also really adore Trent in this story, how in his own way he’s just as overwhelmed.

i like its hows by raedear

A cranky and stressed-out Trent gets the bubble-bath treatment with his boyfriend. I read this story with a giant grin on my face the whole time; raedear has a knack for getting you inside Ted's headspace in a way that feels very natural, even restful. Also features Ted having a thing about Trent's hair, which, who among us really.

you can call me loverboy by Waistcoat35

Oh my god — aka The Fic That Explained Fancams To Ted, And Also To Gus. I love the idea of Trent Crimm, Secret Fanboy; also given how hard he tries to give the impression of being an analog kid, the revelation that Trent knows more about TikTok than I do is a fucking delight. Ted's baffled glee at seeing just how much Trent was into him even before they started dating is similarly incredible. Even if they never do watch the red panda video.

Camellia sinensis by reginahalliwell

TED VS TEA. This is possibly the greatest twist on the Five Times trope I've ever seen, with Ted finding out about various types of tea and his reaction to them in turn (spoilers: he has a VERY positive reaction to the last one, ahem). Each section is also its own story, which in turn is part of the larger story of how Ted and Trent love each other, and love other people; so much of this fic is just about care in all its forms. I clapped to myself multiple times reading this.

On this ground by praycambrian

Ted takes his family to Kansas for the family reunion — Trent, Henry and Seraphina, who all have differing reactions to the Midwest. Thank fucking God praycambrian wrote this, is the main thing I want to say; this story is written from Trent's POV and praycambrian writes him in such an achingly poetic yet fiercely unsentimental way that I'm still agog, weeks after reading it for the first time. Ted's family is both exactly like and nothing like I would have expected, as people who love Ted but don't quite accept him, this "new" version of him, and the pain that inflicts on Ted makes you want to reach through to hold him yourself. But it's also a deeply joyful story; we get to see how Trent views this relationship and what it means to him, how he loves so completely and utterly. Just breathtaking.

this bed thy centre is by kirazi

Set right after the family comes back from Kansas, this is fic-of-fic-of-fic, or Ficepton, and I could not be more astounded by it. Taking place over a day spent in bed, Ted and Trent recovering from their vacation (as you always need to do) and soaking up each others' presence. What I like best in this story is the way they talk to each other; like adults with their own lives and priorities, but who have chosen — and who choose every day — to live those lives together, and to make each other a priority. Plus, there's a JFK anal joke that has to be read to be believed.

Any Eden We Can Name Has Dinosaurs by gutterandthestars

Ted, Trent and dino-crazy Seraphina return to the Natural History Museum, this time as a family. Gutterandthestars has a gift for writing affection, if that makes sense; it's hard to read this story without smiling, the way you do when you see loving families interacting with each other. There's also a lovely OC (several, actually) who glances off their day in that way that sometimes happens, an encounter with a stranger that you remember fondly, even though you'll likely never cross paths again.

Don't You Ever Ask Them Why by Valonia

Seraphina gets her period. I absolutely ADORE how Valonia wrote the teenage Seraphina, completely recognizable but fortunately not quite the terror she was at 3 or 4. Ted is also wonderful here; there's none of that sitcom-dad ridiculousness, merely a man who's (understandably) never had to deal with this particular issue before, learning as fast as he can. (Also Ted getting psyched that Seraphina gets her period is actually so cute and would be SO ANNOYING, I love everything about it.)

And, delightfully, there are AUs of this AU!

Edge of the abyss (it'll swallow you whole) by chanderson

A wonderful story that has Ted suffer his first panic attack in Trent’s presence much earlier in the relationship — this (as per the author's note) can be read as a stand-alone if you prefer. It's one of those stories that's so clearly written not just from a place of experience, but a place of love and empathy. And the way that the author writes Trent as understanding but not fussing - even as Ted feels defensive and worried — is just great.

a real right thing by another_Hero

So another_Hero dropped this fic in my lap and ran away cackling, for which I will NEVER FORGIVE AND NEVER FORGET. It's an AU that starts from before "a kind of dwell and welcome" even starts, giving a glimpse into what might have happened had Trent made a different choice, in Ted's office. That first scene between Ted and Trent made me hold my breath the whole way through, because I really didn't have a clue what would happen next. I have begged another_Hero to write an 85K fic but have been CRUELLY rebuffed.

I am so, so grateful to all the writers who devoted time, talent, energy and ideas to this universe; reading your works these past few months has been not just a privilege but a pleasure, and I would take you all out for drinks if I could. (And if I can, at some point, I will, so be warned.) Thank you, thank you, thank you.

#reccage of interest #sports geezers in love #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ficcage of interest #trent crimm: independent of the independent #trent crimm #seriously it's just AMAZING #believe mothereffers

[peeterparkr]

red; tom's version|one.

chapter one: sad, beautiful tragic. “Long handwritten note deep in your pocket”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader (tom's not famous here) story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship months after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: you haven't seen him since he ditched you, after months of wearing plaid you go out and realize he's back in new york warnings: angsty, I mean it's a breakup, swearing. word count: 7.3k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

fic masterlist next chapter

a/n: Hi, I couldn't wait to share it so I said, screw it, I'm posting this. You don't know how excited I am to write this and share it with you. As you know, this is inspired by Red by Taylor Swift and will hurt. So I expect us all to be crumpled up pieces of paper wearing scarves by the end of this. (perennial is still coming, I'm just waiting on a few people who're reading it). SPECIAL THANKS TO @erodasghosts for reading it and hyping me up and helping me figure this all out. I hope you guys all like it as much as I did. The story is set in New York. Please give feedback!

One month after the breakup.

Strong whiskey, on the rocks. That was his drink of choice that night. The night before had been a beer. You knew you could imagine the taste of his lips by only looking at him. You wondered if he’d gone there for a second night for the same reason you had.

When you had seen him across the place the night before, you had tried to decide how to feel. We always think we will react one way or another when we see our official heartbreak walking through. Victorious as he is perfectly dressed, with his hair flowing.

He hadn’t brought her. Which you didn’t know how to feel about.

The day before you had not been alone, Jules, Matty, and Lula were there.

“Shit, the axolotl at 10 o'clock, you’ve got to be shitting me,” Lourdes, Lula, had whispered before sipping her drink, a Long Island Tea. “We are celebrating she’s doing better, can’t fucking believe this,” she hissed at Jules who only lifted her chin slightly to see who she was referring to. “What the fuck is he doing here? Ay, es que, con qué huevos se atreve a venir aquí? Que no mame.” [with what balls did he dare to come here? He shouldn’t fuck with us. ]

You loved hanging out with Lula and listening to her very refined Spanish cursing.

“It’s not him,” Julia said.

You tried looking back to see who they were referring to. “Who is—?”

“Y/N, wait I just noticed the haircut!” Matt pointed out, reaching over, getting your attention back to them and not at whatever they were referring to. “It looks great. It’s like a new you!”

This new you. The one that had been screwed over twice. Men really have the nerve when it comes to breaking hearts. They recklessly go in and let you believe love comes in all shades of colors, passionate red like the roses they send, and tender pinks like your sweet innocence that they end up stealing. But they never tell you it’ll be you all alone in a dark room with shades of grey under a flickering light that barely warms you.

The new you, which was still a bit lost. Your old self was a stranger to you now. You had no idea who this new you was, she was quiet now. Didn’t have a heart because someone had stolen it and broken it and left it behind a dumpster. Still trying to find it. The new you wasn't.. you.

Your friends were glad, however, they finally got you to go out again. After weeks of wearing plaid and watching Fleabag, and even considering watching Greys Anatomy, a low point, you had finally decided to come back to see if there was any sunshine left for you.

It’s important to point out that you had been broken-hearted and almost crazy when the breakup had happened. Very… delusional. You were not proud of the way you’d reacted. Although you wouldn’t have reacted any other way.

The city had been quiet, the red lights seemed to last longer, and the crowds would often swallow you. The city you once loved was now an open book of a relationship that seemed real, should’ve known it was all fiction.

In your dreams they’d be bright, colorful. The village is aglow. Cold days with warm hearts. Like his.

You’d been cold ever since.

“Ah, yeah, the haircut. Got it today. Lula’s idea” The haircut had come as the solution to a problem that would never be solved. As if cutting your hair meant there was something you had the power on. You didn’t.

How stupid was it? You couldn’t control your life.

“It suits her well, doesn’t it?” Lula admitted proudly.

You still had his picture engraved in your heart. You still dreamed he would come back and say it was all a nightmare.

“It’s nice, I’m glad to have you back,” Jules commented. Julia had probably been the most surprised with the news of the breakup, she had almost gone and killed Tom when he had….unimportant. She hadn’t, though, and she had yet to tell you the reason why. Julia had been mysterious since.

“I’m glad to be back,” you confirmed. You’d ordered a beer, and maybe you shouldn’t have. Stella Artois, his one favorite. You pocketed the beer cap. “Though I was not gone.”

Matt watched you, him and Julia had recently started dating. Best friends since kids who just recently confessed their feelings for each other, took them long enough. “How back are you, though?”

“Meaning?” You asked, taking a sip.

Matt shrugged, “I could introduce you to some friends from work, there’s this hot guy—“

“No,” you interrupted him, leaving the bottle down as you had almost choked. “No, no. Not in the dating area yet. Won’t be in a long time. Still healing.”

Lula still had her eyes glued elsewhere. “Healing from a bullet hole, y/n, whatever you’re doing isn’t working, and band aids won’t fix it—Jules it is, I swear to god it’s him.”

“It’s not him,” Julia rolled her eyes.

“Ay, que sí!” [he is]

“Who?” You asked.

Julia took your hands, “you know Lula,” she rolled her eyes. “I love that you ordered a beer.”

“Yeah,” you gulped. “Beer is universal language for men as in: ‘don’t get close to me.’” A lesson someone dear had taught you once.

Matt tilted his head in agreement, “Yeah.”

“Really?” Lula frowned, “should’ve ordered one. Next time I’ll ask for my drink but instead of a glass I’ll ask them to put it in a beer bottle.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to order a beer?” Matt suggested.

“But then I’d break our tradition.”

Matt watched her, “you really are something.”

You chuckled.

“Why is beer seen as not—feminine?” Matt questioned.

Julia shrugged. “It’s beyond me, really. It’s a drink.”

“Like does my drink make me less of a man?” Matt watched his glass, another Long Island Tea. A stupid inside joke you all had.

“No,” you admitted. “But you know how society is. Since it’s sweet, it’s got to be—“

“Oh, no, no, I love you, y/n, but tonight I don’t want you lecturing us on it, no, tonight we are having fun, ok?” Lula reminded you. “We will not talk about femininity or lack of a beer—or whatever your agenda is up to these days, which, hey! Why does y/n get to break the rule?” Lula questioned. “No Long Island Tea?

Julia glared at her, “Because she can do whatever she wants tonight,” she hissed and then turned to you. “But how are you feeling? It’s your first time going out in months, is it as fun?” Julia was the one to try to cheer you up the most.

No, it wasn’t fun.

“I—feel good!” You lied. Although you were not. But you guessed that’s the response they wanted after seeing you laying down on the ground and crying yourself to sleep. Staring at windows and walking down in the rain. They wanted you to feel better.

Your body was covered in scars.Though, they were from adventures.

“Bullshit,” Lula intruded. “You seem sad. Maybe I’ll get some shots,” she announced before going to get some.

“Well,” you chuckled. “My first time going out and you bring me back to the place where it all started?” You answered cynically but then shrugged. “I’m—I…no. I just—It’s weird. I still see him everywhere, and as I’m here it’s like watching a movie of our greatest moments,” you admitted. “Like hey, look over there, it’s Tom and Y/N’s greatest moments,” you stated, Lula got back. “Let’s start memory lane…”and you sighed and continued with the best presenter voice you had. “Here you’ll wonder how the hell did it go so wrong since they were so perfect, what the hell went wrong, when did it turn into some sad stupid love affair. You’ll be asking yourself hey, they seemed in love, over there, they danced! Over there… they sang a song together! See over there? There was a fucking jukebox in which they have memories! Oh they have memories there too! And you’ll ask yourself, he made it seem real, what the hell happened?” You sighed exhaustedly. “What happened? What the fuck happened? How was I so stupid?” You ran your hands through your face.

Your friends only watched you, with pity, sadness. Even Lula had turned her gaze guilty.

You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Lula sighed, “it’s our fault for bringing you here. We’re fucking idiots. Besides he is—Julia I swear to god, he is there.” Lula raised her hand and Julia quickly pulled it down.

Julia bit her lip, “I—hadn’t realized how much Tom there is here.”

“Yeah.”

“He called me—“Matt had started.

“No, no, we can’t talk about him, baby,” Julia reminded him. Matt widened his eyes and nodded.

You blinked, “no, it’s—He called you? Tom?” Why had Tom called Matty? What for?

“Yeah, had a missed call,” Matt explained, ignoring his girlfriend. “I—it was this morning.”

You felt your chest twist. “Yeah, I get a lot of those too.”

Perhaps he wanted to talk to you and thought Matty was dumb enough to give you the phone.

Julia glared at Matt. “We promised not to—“

“No, hey,” you stopped her. “I—sorry, I brought him up.”

“But we shouldn’t talk about him,” Julia insisted. “Tonight is all about having fun,” she stated as she handed everyone their shots.

“No, it’s alright,” you said. “I’m fine talking about it.”

Lula turned her gaze to you. “Shouldn’t you hate him?”

Were you supposed to hate someone who gave you something so beautiful? Just because it’s over doesn’t mean you have to look back and hate it.

“No,” you answered simply.

Matt watched you. “Wait, really?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m—I decided I’m thankful for everything. He really… I… I mean I knew from the start he was trouble. But he got me to get rid of Will. So I’m thankful for Tom. He showed me some beautiful things about him, about myself and… I’m thankful. Even the part when he broke my heart.”

It was a lie. Partly. You had been so full of doubts that you only tried wondering why it had gone so wrong. Or course, the lie was there. His lies. But how could any of it be a lie?

Julia smiled gently, “You’re really a grown up.”

“Or very stupid.” Lula commented.

“Thanks, Lula, I appreciate it,” you rolled your eyes. “I… well, I’ve gotta admit I was pretty stupid.”

Lula shrugged, “Hey, I don’t blame you, boy came in with an accent, he had a cute smile, he was hot, I must admit, and he wasn’t one of those Brooklyn fuckboys that take you to the rooftop and offer you a whiteclaw to watch the sunrise together,” Lula gave in.

“Oh, and they take candid pictures, and they say that their phone camera isn’t as good as their polaroid,” Julia laughed, “But hey, you’re lucky they took you to the rooftop, they never take anyone there, they took you there just because you’re…”

“Different,” Julia, Lula and you chanted.

Matt laughed, “You guys are the worst.”

“Anyway,” Lula said. “We should drink these,” she pointed at the shot glasses as she raised her own. “I came here to get drunk. So, to Y/N being thankful Tom was a piece of shit even when the boy had a dreamy accent?”

You closed your eyes, and let out a defeated dry chuckle. “Yes, to that.”

“To the piece of shit, then!” Lula grinned as the shots clinked and were downed. You instantly regretted drinking it.

Lula scowled as she had her eyes glued back at the bar, “It’s him, Julia, it’s him! What is he doing here? Pendejo, I swear to god I’ll go kill him.” She was furious, and you tried once again following her gaze.

The bar was crowded, red lights crossed around the place, with girls walking with tall heels, trying to smile and nod at guys who were talking to them but clearly were not of interest to them. Friends laughing, people flirting. You didn’t know who your friends were watching.

But the bar seemed to be enough of a reminder of him. How he had made you feel like crowds were never there, and how whenever you had been with him everything disappeared just to be with him.

“Who are we killing?” You questioned.

“Is new y/n a murderer?” Asked Matt. Matt and Julia were your oldest friends. The three of you grew up in Staten Island, and now moved to the crowded places.

Lula coughed. “Hope she is.” Lula, on the other hand, you’ve met in college, she was a very defined addition to the friend group. With more personality. A strong one. Lula, Julia and you shared a small apartment.

Julia cleared her throat.

“The fucking scarf,” Lula scowled.

“What scarf?” Matt asked. And you had the same question.

Julia whispered to her boyfriend’s ear who had turned cold. He lifted his head.

“But it’s not.”

“It is him,” Matt confirmed to Lula. “Jules, it is.”

And now your three friends were acting strange. Usually they did but this was strang-er. They all shared looks, Julia struggled with her hands.

They were watching you with pity but you’d gotten used to that. After the breakup they had been extra careful around you, kinder, you guessed.

Fools they were to believe that by not mentioning him you wouldn’t think of him. He was a memory that would haunt you for the rest of the days.

“So, y/n,” Julia was clearly hiding whatever Lula was seeing.

“Wasn’t he in London? What in this fucking world is he doing here?” Lula continued.

“Shut up!” Julia ordered.

“London?” You asked and you lifted your head, and any noise that was bustling before had stopped.

Tom.

Tom was there.

Thomas.

Tom who had broken your heart. In every possible way that he could’ve. Like he had planned it. Like he was aware.

He was there, on a stool with a beer in his hand and wearing a red scarf. The red scarf. As if he was mocking you.

Tom.

Did he pride on hurting you?

He had always said you were invincible. That you were unrivaled in matters of the heart. Was he proud he had beaten the unbeaten?

You’d always thought he would.

When we love deeply, getting hurt comes as a given. But when we love deeply, we are never expecting it to come. And when it does come the skies cannot turn grayer. Funny thing, you were a fan of the rain but when the rain doesn’t cease, the hope doesn’t perdure.

But he was back in your life. Or at least he had been in the same room as you after months.

What was he doing back in New York with your scarf?

You turned back to your own table, breathing in quickly, bringing your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm yourself down.

You saw your friends speaking but you couldn’t make a word of what they’re saying. Your heart was rushing. Thomas was there. Tom. Your Tom. And there was a part of you that had completely forgotten over the heartbreak and wanted to run to him.

Kiss him, try to fix it. Try to bring back the beautiful thing you both had. Because it was. And it hurt looking back.

You were having trouble breathing now, the heartbreak had come.

That’s the worst thing about heartbreak. You never saw it coming, though you should’ve. Though it was beautiful you’d known from the start you’d end up hurt. But when a lie is crafted so beautifully, how could you?

“It’s him.” The words had come in whispers.

You barely remembered what had happened next. You had only stood up, decisive to leave, you’d seen him try to walk his way to you. You’d heard him call your name, but you hadn’t turned back, you had seen Matty stop him from running to you.

It was blurry. You didn’t know how you got home. Desperately trying to understand why he was there and how the night had turned too badly.

Lula and Matt had come back later to find Julia trying to comfort you, hugging a pillow that you were sure he had slept on. Breathless.

But it was in the past now, you were there again. Same bar, both in stools far away.

You were almost sure he’d gone to that bar in hopes of finding you again.

Just like you’d gone again.

His eyes the night before were guilty. You only took a deep breath, you remembered trying to avoid his glance at any chance as you had walked out.

Why were you there again?

That feeling in your chest growing, like there was something heavy expanding. Yet your stomach falling smaller. The pain was but a shield, as if it was creating a special protection around your heart, and though it hurt it was enough for it to make your heart strong to leave the place.

You didn’t want to see Tom. You hadn’t talked to him since. Even when he’d tried to call. Even when you’d tried calling.

Not when you had replayed the breakup over and over and over again since he was gone.

Everyone deals with breakups in different ways. Yours, specifically, was avoiding it. Everything and everyone. Especially Tom.

It was hard when he was everywhere. In that tattoo he’d convinced you to get, in that ring he’d left, in that cereal box that you still hadn’t finished. Whenever you listened to a song he’d recommended. Whenever you’d open Netflix and that series you had started watching together was still recommended to you even when you’d deleted it.

Everywhere.

You couldn’t use your favorite colors because you could hear it, in the back of your head “I love how it looks on you.” “You should wear more blue, it suits you.”

Even your stupid laugh remind you of him. “Your laugh is the most wonderful thing I’ve heard, even if it’s so ugly.”

You missed the person you were when he was with you. How everything was happy. Who was that y/n? Who didn’t mind if she was slightly late to a place because he’d come with you? Who didn’t feel alone at parties when she knew nobody because you knew him?

A y/n that existed only for a short period of time when he’d been around and that he’d shattered like glass when he had the chance.

You missed that y/n.

The y/n that would sometimes lose her breath and catch it back when he walked into the room. A y/n that sang along to her favorite songs all day. The one that would give her heart in a rush to him. The one that watched movies no matter if they were good or not.

Life had colors back then.

Now you were full of regrets and of doubts. Wondering what you had done wrong? Where did it lead you?

You looked up at him then. He was staring down at his glass.

There was a slight trace of him still there, the Tom you once loved. The one with the silly smile and the gentle chuckle, the one with the jokes about everything.

You wondered how much of that y/n he saw too.

You were the same two people, in essence. But how different you were now.

The Tom you knew before finding out it was a lie.

There was still a hint. You knew. But there was so much of him in you that it was hard to see if you still were there. Or the Tom you thought you knew. Not the one with the lie. Or maybe this was the truest Tom he could ever be.

He had to move on, rather quickly, you recalled. If he ever did.

There was a stupid reminder of you in his hand, that red scarf from the very first day.

You still remembered how it all started, a stupid red scarf. He kept it, then, and he wore it.

You had ordered a beer, too. You pocketed the cap again.

But there was an image in your mind, maybe he had gone back and probably had his arm around her and he laughed at a joke she made. Maybe she was funnier than you. Definitely prettier, with her hair falling down all the way to her waist, her clothing accentuating everything you didn’t have.

You recalled having to leave the room when you found out. You had been a mess.

Leaning against a wall as you caught your breath before the tears came down, as if he had pierced right through it. A pain chest that had expanded all the way on your body, not sure how you were able to keep walking back to your place. Falling down to your knees when you did.

Pain. Words failed to describe such a deep sentiment.

But it was gone now. Not entirely but at least you could hold your breath fine when he was just across the room.

What went wrong?

You could ask him. He was right there.

Maybe even tell him how you had lost sight. He hadn’t walked up to you. He was nervous, but he seemed calm enough to see you were there. You were still unsure why you had gone there.

Maybe all the good things were enough to bring you there, maybe the fact that you still didn’t believe it was a lie brought you there. Maybe the fact that one of those pictures from that photobooth was still in a locket. So stupid.

He fiddled with the glass.

You waited and waited but he didn’t approach you. He took out a paper out of his pocket as he stared at it.

You wouldn’t approach him. No matter how happy he had made you once, you wouldn’t walk to him. No matter how beautiful it was. No matter if you were lonely and that when you dared to sleep he’d be haunting your dreams.

It was a tragedy now. What you both were, and not even worth enough to try and save it. You knew you were haunting him too. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here.

He was shakin, as he stared at you, nervous. He downed his drink, you guessed it was for some liquid courage and stood up, with the note in one hand and your red scarf in the other.

Your own courage for coming here was gone, as you saw his intentions, the urge to run you had the night before was becoming you. But he couldn’t walk. He had to sit down again, rubbing his face.

The courage that had come when choosing what Lula called the ‘revenge black dress’ was nowhere in sight. You were cold and regretting putting it on.

“I can’t do this,” you said to yourself and quickly let out some dollars to pay for your drink before picking up your stuff to leave.

You saw he panicked when he saw you leaving, he quickly called the bartender to pay for his drink.

You closed your coat as you were shaking yourself, punishing yourself for going there. Why had you gone there? The man had broken your heart? Were you really there to see him?

Was your heart foolish enough to ignore the warnings in your mind once again?

You walked your way to get to the subway station, how irrelevant you were through the crowds. You hadn’t felt this way for a while, caring for the crowds. But you had to get through them. There was a part of you that wished Tom was following you after. But the crowds didn’t let you see if he was.

Besides, you shouldn’t want that.

You finally managed to get to the station, you clung to your purse as you stared at the tracks, waiting for the next train to come. Peaceful it seemed, the station. As peaceful as New York could be. You guessed if you cried nobody would care.

“y/n!” You heard your name in the distance and you couldn’t handle it.

You took a deep breath and shook your head, angrily. Why had you gone? You could’ve easily kept ignoring his calls. You could’ve stayed in your apartment, crying as you watched SNL videos on youtube, or rewatching a cartoon for the hundredth time, letting your own sadness and self pity swallow you.

But you had gone to him. This was your fault. You should’ve taken a cab, instead, he would know you’d get at this station and he for sure would know what train you’d take.

“y/n, y/n!” He kept calling as he finally arrived next to you. “Sorry I would’ve gotten here faster but the damn MetroCard-”

“I’m not doing this, Tom,” you stated before he could go on rambling like the idiot he was. You couldn’t do it. “Not here, not anywhere. I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“I…” His face was kind, and he seemed to be nervous. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping, probably the jet lag.

You took a moment to look at him, he didn’t look as victorious as you had thought he was. His hair was messy, and his cheeks flushed, the buttons on his shirt were not buttoned right.

Seeing him again, with that signature look he had made you want to go down to your knees.

“Aren’t you supposed to be back in London?” You snapped. “With that pretty girl-”

“No, no, I’m-I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” Tom stuttered. “I was an idiot.”

You stared into his eyes, you were not ready for this. You were not ready to look into his stupid eyes. You looked away. “That’s all you have to say?” You tried walking away from him..

He shook his head. “No, no, no, no, I… No, I actually… I had this… I wrote down my apology,” Tom confessed. He showed you a sad, handwritten paper, now slightly teared up with the ink running. “I… I had….”

You looked down at it, his messy handwriting, crinkled with words scratched down. “You wrote it down?”

You didn’t know why you felt your heart warm. This kind of stuff was why you couldn’t understand what had happened. Someone like him, who writes his apologies down. Someone who stutters when he’s speaking.

“Yeah, I… but I spilled my drink on it after seeing you fled,” He explained, swallowing hard. “I… I… I had written it down so I wouldn’t forget it but now I realize how stupid that is… I’m… I’m really sorry, y/n.” .

You could hear the train coming. You were seeing him again. It hit you right there. And this was not the reaction you thought. You had said you would be delusional, crying and fighting and questioning him why the fuck he had done that.

Yet you weren’t. You were only watching him, eyes full of tears wanting to slide down but unable to. But there was that pain still in your chest.

How could he ever dare to hurt you that way? “I don’t want to talk to you,” you said. And meant it. “Please leave me alone.” You said before walking into the train.

“Y/N, please, no, please, please, listen to me,” He followed you in, the scarf still in his hand.

You tried sitting as far away as you could. Arms and legs crossed as you tried breathing in.

He sat beside you and you changed seats. He sighed but followed you again. “Please, I need to talk to you. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well you did,” you snapped. “You did, and now you come here a month later with a handwritten note apology thinking I will be fine with it?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I had to solve-Please, would you listen?” Tom asked, knowing damn well he had to ask, and not just straight up blurt it out.

“Why would I, Tom?” You turned to him, with a tear traveling down your cheek. You were incredulous. “You’re kidding me, right? I… You… You think that just because you show up with that stupid face of yours and my scarf I’ll want to listen to you? You’re an idiot.”

He sighed and reached to give you the scarf. You ignored it.You were furious now.

The other people on the train were certainly getting a show. A guy with a backpack was trying to pretend he wasn’t listening but his reactions were giving it away. Another woman pretended to keep reading her book but she hadn’t turned any pages.

Tom took the scarf back staring at it. “I need to explain everything to you.”

“What if I don’t want an explanation?” You snapped. Though you did. You had been waiting for one, you wanted one. You would beg for it. But your pride was taking the wheel of the conversation. “Don’t you think it’s fucking late for it?”

“Is it?” Tom turned back to you.

“Yes!” You couldn’t believe him. But this seemed a bit too familiar of a conversation. “And beside no explanation would make me forgive you!” You stated, whispering, not wanting any of the attention you were receiving.

“I’m not… I… If you just listen to me,” Tom said.

You glared, “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Then why did you come to the bar?” He asked.

He fucking asked.

Your eyes widened. He had gone there. He knew. He fucking knew you’d gone back because you wanted an explanation. Or so he thought. No, you’d gone back because… Yes, because you wanted an explanation. Because everything he’d done had been beautiful. Until the heartbreak. He had crafted and vexed his way into your cold stupid heart and then he had gone and pierced right through it, crushed it.

You wanted to ask why. Why did he do it so vehemently?

You didn’t answer, instead you moved one seat away. He kept his eyes on you.

“You wouldn’t have gone if you didn’t want an explanation,” he said. “Or to see me, at least. I know I did, I needed to see you.”

You saw the guy with the backpack purse his lips, knowing that Tom had got you. There was little context for them. The girl with the book directed a glance to you, trying to read your emotions.

If they knew, they’d be on your side and yelling at him as well.

He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face.

“I didn’t, it was a coincidence,” you answered coldly.

“No, it bloody wasn’t,” Tom scoffed and then sat up. “No, I’m… No, but you know, you went to the bar for a reason.”

“And I left for a million more,” you frowned.

Tom pursed his lips and took out the paper again, trying to make out whatever he’d written before. “I’m really sorry.” His eyes traced through the note.

“Are you genuinely trying to read it? Don’t you know what you’re supposed to apologize for?”

Tom looked up, “So you do want me to apologize?”

The guy with the backpack squeezed his eyes shut, knowing Tom had fucked up.

“You’re kidding, right? Yes, you have to apologize, what you did is really, really shitty!” You pointed out.

“But you won’t forgive me, then?” Tom watched you.

“I don’t know,” you said and he looked up, a beaming gaze. “No, I won’t.”

He wrinkled his eyes, “I… I know I’m supposed to apologize, not to expect you to forgive. I'm just…”

He gulped, and then sat back, staring at the dirty walls and lights. He had dressed up. Badly, but he had tried looking good, you could tell. You could smell his lotion, too.

He was fiddling with the paper, crumpling up and then it fell to the floor. You looked at it and somehow related to it, not sure how.

You took a deep breath so you wouldn’t kill him and turned to him. “I have questions for you, if you answer them I might consider listening to you.”

Tom’s eyes brightened up. “Yes, yes, anything.”

You eyed him up and down as he watched you with begging eyes. You avoided his gaze. Tom followed your gaze as you tried to figure out what was the first thing you could ask him. Why had he hurt you?

Why did he not stop and think before making you fall in love with him?

Why did he not stop and tell you the truth?

“Where are you staying?” You asked,

Tom blinked. “Is that… is that the question?”

“No, but I know you don’t know how to fucking get anywhere,” you said.

Tom gulped, “I… uh, again with Harrison,” he explained.

You sighed. You remembered Harrison alright. And though there was a petty part inside you, you would help him out. Knowing he’d always get lost in the city. Though you could let him get lost, so you’d have to go after him and spend a bit more time. With an excuse, because you didn’t seem to have any excuse to be with him.

It hurt. What hurt the most was trying not to look back at the incredible moments you had because none of them were true.

You sighed. “Okay, when we get down you’ll take the F train—“

Tom stopped you, taking your hand. “No, wait, I don’t care if I get lost, okay, I… I just.”

You snatched your hand away from his cold hands he had. You darkened your gaze at him.

“Please, Y/n, I just need a chance. If you don’t want to listen… maybe I’ll just…” He handed you the note.

You crossed your arms, and tapped your foot, trying to decide whether or not to give it to him. “Fine,” you took the note.

You've gotten to your stop. So you stood up.

The girl with the book and the guy with the backpack watched you both as you walked out, pitying they couldn’t follow the drama.

Tom followed after you, he licked his lips. “You… you had questions, right?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, taking yet another heavy breath. You turned on your feet to look at him “One, did you lie to me?”

Tom was taken back by this, his eyes, consternated, only watched you. He gulped. “What?”

“Did you lie to me?

“I… well.”

You were getting desperate. “Did you ?”

“I didn’t lie about how I felt,” he said. You knew he wasn’t lying about it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t have ever lied about how he felt because you knew he had felt it too, a bit, at least,

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“I mean it, I…” Tom gulped. “I really liked you.”

“Yeah, I know, you liked me yadda, yadda,” you started. Liked not loved. “Cut the bullshit for once, did you or did you not lie to me?”

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes. But I had feelings for you.”

You bit your inner cheeks. “Uh-huh, yes, okay, good, yes, you acknowledge it. So, we have two statements here, Tom. You say you had feelings yet you lied to me,” you squinted. “Sounds-”

Tom gulped and avoided your gaze. “I know yes,” he looked down. “But, if you give me-”

“Ah, buh-buh, nope, I’m just gathering my thoughts here,” you coughed. “I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me what you felt.”

Tom shook his head in confusion. “I—I’m”

“Go on,” you motioned your hand.

“Y/N,” he said. And the way he dared to say your name was like having a knife right through you. “I had—I have feelings for you,” he said looking right into your eyes.

He didn’t say what feelings.

You were not sure where you wanted to go with this. “Fine, my next question…” you really didn’t know where this was going. “So, alright, you…” You couldn’t even phrase it. “You… made me fall in love with you knowing….Well, we both know what you did. What you hid from me. You’re a liar who made me—“

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes, but I didn’t… plan that.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, so it’s my fault?” You stepped back. “Sorry for developing feelings for you. Sorry for ruining your life—“

Tom closed his eyes, “No, no, look, I… wasn’t. I didn’t come here expecting to meet you, I didn’t want… It just happened, okay, I never thought—You're making it sound like it’s some big master plan. I—I never planned—I never would’ve ever planned on hurting you.”

You watched him, incredulous. “Thomas you do realize what you did to me?”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t! You’re trying to make me seem like I’m crazy for not even wanting to talk to you!” You called him out.

“I’m not, I’m just saying that if you’re here—you must miss it too, you know it was too real, and you want it back, possibly—M-maybe not, but if you came to the bar tonight it was in hopes of finding me again because you knew I’d be there, and you want to feel how you felt before, and i just… you know I miss it and that you knew I didn’t lie—“

You glared at him. “You did lie!”

“Okay—yes, yes I did—But not entirely, I just happened to omit one truth—“

“One very important truth,” you snarked.

“Fine but—please listen,” he tried to convince you. “and I’m sorry, okay? I—I didn’t want to hurt you. But I never planned this. It just happened. I didn’t come here expecting to fall in love with anyone, I didn’t come here trying to date, and I never expected it to be someone as complex—“

“Complex?”

“Yes, I never came to New York trying to find the most mental relationship I’ve ever had—“

“Mental?” You snapped.

“Yes! I love you but you’re fucking crazy! And I am too! I’m fucking crazy and mental but I—I—I loved being crazy and mental with you! We are fucking mental! Driving to nowhere? Breaking into places? Getting a jukebox on the subway? That’s mental! But—but I love that about you, alright? Don’t you get it? I could’ve stayed in London, I could've been the asshole who just ditched you and lied to you—“

You scoffed. “Well that’s comforting!”

“But I’m—I’m here, ain’t I? And I know I fucked up, I know, I accept that, I’m the asshole here, and I know you’ll never—I hid it from you because I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t even get it myself. I’m here to give you my version of it. I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you…I am…,I am in love with you, and I never planned that, I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone else, it just happened. I may have thought it was just—Some fling, initially.”

You laughed cynically. “A fling.”

He gulped. “And the moment I realized what was really going on—”

“You left, that’s what you fucking did, when you realized it was way too real for you, you destroyed the one real thing you’ve ever known,” you barked, he stepped back. “I fell in love with you, I—I—and then you ditched me, and I thought that was the worst thing you could ever do to me but then I realized that it wasn’t real! I—you were never mine, Tom! I simply was—a break you needed or—a fling.”

“It wasn’t that—“

You watched him. Looking so innocent, kind eyes and tender lips. You would’ve believed him had he come before.

“You used me!” You snapped, the words that had wanted to come for a while just blurted out. “I just can’t believe you,” you said. “You don’t feel sorry.” You shook your head, your voice was cracking. “You're not sorry because you don’t understand. You don’t know what I went through, and if you had come earlier, if you hadn’t left me, I probably would have believed you. But—No! No!” You stepped back. “No!”

“I did call! You never picked up the phone! I tried—“Tom started.

“Was I really expected to pick it up? Let’s get back to it. Shall we? The facts. Did you or did you not date me? And made me fall in love with you?”

Tom sighed. “I—yes.”

“Did you lie?”

“…yes.”

You nodded. “Was I the other one?”

Tom squinted his eyes. “No… yes, no.”

You took a deep breath. “Did you leave me without an explanation?”

Tom looked down. “I did.”

“Did you ditch me?”

Tom looked everywhere and nowhere. “Yes,” he answered, defeated.

“Now, do you think I can ever forgive you?”

Tom didn’t answer.

You reached for your purse, for the locket that dug deep inside. “I don’t know you,” you stated giving him the locket, the stupid locket you’d bought as a joke when making fun of other couples and now laughed in your face. “Whatever happened means nothing. Because that’s the thing Tom. Everything we lived was a lie, those two people in the locket are not us, because you weren’t who you said you were, no matter how much I loved it, it’s not true and though it was too many emotions all at once I’m—It’s not real, not for you. I spent this whole time thinking I wanted you to apologize but I don’t want it. That charming guy wasn’t truly you because you omitted one very important thing. You—What were you thinking? Were you planning to never say it? Or did you plan it like that? Just ditching me, hoping I wouldn’t find out—“

Tom took a deep breath. “No—No, I didn’t. I just—-I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you and I should’ve fixed it before—-“

“No, no you didn’t because it wasn’t enough for you.”

Tom gulped, “It was, it was—-the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“And you ruined it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“How little words mean when you’re a little too late, huh?” And that was the cue you needed to walk away. He silently watched you as you tried not to cry.

“I’m really sorry.” He said.

Was he?

“What if I try to prove it to you?” He asked as you were steps away from him.

You didn’t stop.

“If we go over this, you’ll see I never lied about it.” He continued.

“I already went over it, I remember everything, Tom, and maybe that’s why I don't want to talk to you.”

Tom walked behind, slowly. “I just happened to be very unlucky when it came to my own circumstances,” he reached over. “And I wish the timing had been better. But you’re right, it’s the one real thing I’ve ever had and I lost it because I hid something in fear of losing you. I lied because it was too good to be true. And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me but I think you deserve to know why. But you went to the bar for a reason, and you had the locket for another.”

You stopped this time. Looking down at the floor and then at his hand, holding your stupid scarf. You shook your head, you really didn’t want to go through it all over again.

“I know you won’t forgive me,” he stated. “But I can’t let you go. You’re everywhere. And I miss the person I was when you were around, and I won’t stop fighting because you’re everywhere. Dreams, nightmares.”

Funny. You were his demons too.

“Am I haunting your nightmares?” You asked. Tom only watched you.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I just need—I really need you to listen to my version.”

“Fine then, let’s go down this sad, beautiful tragic love affair.”

-

next chapter

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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?”

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[miss-smutty]

Forbidden

Chapter 1

A/N- I've teased y'all for so long I hope this series is going to live up to expectations, I'm confident it will though because I'm addicted and it's been super easy for me to write - I'm up to chapter 3 so far so updates can be on time! There's a slight age gap between my professor Hemsy and OC Jess but she's twenty and completely legal. You know this is gunna be a giant tease fest for the first couple of chapters cos that sexual tension is fucking gold 🥵

Summary- Jess meets the man of her dreams and then stupidly leaves without getting his number. Will fate bring them together again?

Word count- 1.5 K

Pairing- Professor!Chris Hemsworth x OC

Warnings- Swearing, age gap

18+ only!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 5th August 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires @monet-belle

@skyfullofsong123 @swaggysposts

Chapter 2

I pulled out a chair at the last available table in the unusually busy coffee shop, I thought I might've caught a break choosing the one outside of campus but alas I was wrong.

I was about to sit down when the chair opposite me slid out from under the table, my eyes lifted to meet with the most sparkly blue eyes i'd ever seen. The sight of him took my breath away. Literally.

I stood staring, frozen on the spot, my mouth slightly ajar as I looked him up and down. He was tall, so tall, definitely over 6ft and built like a dream. Thick thighs straining against his fitted trousers, wide muscular shoulders and I just knew there was a six-pack hiding behind that tight t-shirt. 

"Sorry. You were here first, I'll just grab a take-out." He smirked a side smile, amused at how I was so obviously checking him out but his sexy Australian accent distracted you from anything else.

"It's fine, I'm on my own. I don't mind if you want to sit there too." I mentally face palmed myself, drawing attention to the fact I was alone wasn't the best idea but then again he was alone too. "I don't bite." I added trying my best to flirt.

It seemed to work, he smiled at me as he sat down and I took the time to admire his handsome face. He was quite clearly a lot older than me, the laughter lines around his eyes a tell tale sign but he was still quite possibly the best looking man I'd ever laid eyes on. His hair was fair and the short beard framed his face perfectly but the one thing that stood out the most were those piercing ocean-blue eyes.

"So do you come here often?" I cocked my eyebrow at him over my coffee cup making him laugh at my reaction. "Sorry, it's been a while." He said nervously, running his hand through his hair.

"It's been a while since you spoke to a stranger or…?" I questioned casually.

"It's been a while since I spoke to an attractive woman." He finished, his eyes sparkling as he watched me almost choke on my drink.

"Oh, I err…. I don't think you're doing too badly." I absentmindedly circled my finger around the rim of my cup, crossing my leg over my other and accidently rubbing my foot up his leg. My cheeks felt hot and flushed as I looked up into his eyes and saw him smiling slyly.

"Evidently. We're already playing footsie under the table." He smiled widely, a genuine smile that stretched the corners of his mouth. I smiled back at him shyly, thinking of something to say to change the subject before I ended up looking like a tomato.

"What part of Australia are you from?"

"I'm originally from Melbourne but I lived in Byron Bay before I came to America." 

"Awesome. I've always wanted to go to Australia, the Spiders put me off though." 

"Yeah I think they put most people off but in heavily populated areas they stay pretty much hidden, I think it's the size that scare people." How have I made this conversation go from flirting to talking about spiders? And how do I get back to flirting?

"Are we still talking about spiders?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly and laughed at the innuendo, flicking my hair over my shoulder. I noticed something in his eyes when I did so, a hunger, just a little flash and then it was gone again. I'm sure I didn't imagine it though because his eyes lingered on my exposed shoulders.

I checked my watch subtly, not wanting him to think he was boring me but I had to get to class and couldn't be late again, not when this semester had only just started.

"I'm really sorry, I'm gonna have to run, I'm going to be late. It was really nice meeting you." I gathered up my bags, ready to leave.

"Already? You've only just got here." He looked disappointed, his smile fading. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something else and then closed again when he saw I was ready to leave. "It was really nice to meet you too, hopefully I'll see you again." His eyes sparkled as he looked into mine, standing from his chair to get the door for me. I felt fireworks when his hand brushed against the small of my back and his face lingered close to mine. The tension was unreal, like we were the only people in the room as his eyes hungrily stared into my soul, undressing me with his eyes. My heart stopped beating when his face moved closer to mine so I could feel his breath on my lips, the smell of coffee and his aftershave filling my nostrils. I paused, my feet routed to the spot, I wanted him to kiss me so badly but I moved away at the last minute. Surely he wasn't actually going to kiss me, we'd only just met, that would be ridiculous. Wouldn't it?

********

I spent most of class daydreaming about my tall handsome stranger and the way he looked at me but most of all how I didn't even get his name. Or his number.

Now I was feeling sorry for myself because it would just be my luck to meet the man of my dreams and then never see him again. So I'd moped about all day and avoided the invitations for drinks after class. Instead I'd

gotten home early, changed into some sweats and settled myself in front of the TV for the night.

"What's up with your face?" My roommate, Ellie said as she walked into our room, throwing her bags onto her bed.

"What're you talking about?" 

"Your face. Looks like you're chewing on a wasp."

"Feeling sorry for myself." I pout pathetically.

"Why, what've you done now?" She rolled her eyes, kicking off her shoes and throwing her legs up onto the bed. I felt so lucky to have a roommate like Ellie, during our freshman year she'd become my best friend practically straight away and now after two years together we were practically sisters.

I sat up in bed cross legged and faced Ellie, getting myself ready to spill my misfortunes of the day with her.

"Well, I went to Impresso's this morning to get my morning coffee before class." She nodded, showing her enthusiasm by also sitting cross legged on her own bed, facing me. "And it was packed full of students, there was only one table left. So I went to grab it as soon as I could." She raised her eyebrow at me, wondering where I was going with the story. "And I kid you not, the most attractive man I have ever seen, pulls out the chair opposite me." 

"Oh my god! No way. Did you talk? Oh my god, this is like the perfect chick flick. Carry on." I smiled at her excitement.

"I told him I didn't mind if he sat there, I mean of course I didn't mind, you should've seen him El. Oh, oh, oh I almost forgot" I flapped my hands, bouncing on the spot. "He was fucking Australian."

"Fuck off, you're lying. Drop dead gorgeous with the sexiest accent ever. How is this even real? Now remind me why you're sat there with a face like a slapped arse?" 

"I panicked when I had to leave, didn't want to be late for class and I didn't get his number, didn't even give him chance to ask for mine." 

"Wow! Ok, now I understand. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking, I was panicking and you know what I'm like when I panic." You sulk.

"It's ok, maybe you'll bump into him again."

"Yeah, right. I should be so lucky."

"Cheer up." she says throwing a cushion at me. "There's a party at Alpha Kappa this weekend, I'm sure we can find you someone to help get over your mystery man. Or under should I say?" She raised her eyebrow at me, smiling slyly and making me laugh. She always did know how to cheer me up and maybe a party is what I needed.

There must be some good looking boys around campus that could make me forget about my Australian hunk. Surely? I thought about the guys I'd seen around campus, the guys I'd seen at frat parties and that's definitely not what I wanted. How could a twenty year old boy match to the masculine, experienced man I met this morning. My mind was set, I'd dipped my feet ever slightly into the mature pool and that's what I wanted more than anything. There was always something missing with previous boyfriends and I was tired of all the game playing. I wanted someone who knew what they wanted and wasn't afraid to get it.

The only thing was, he didn't know I was only twenty and I had no way of finding him again. If fate did bring us back together, would he mind that I was still a student? That I couldn't even drink when we went on dates? 

Who am I kidding? Of course he would mind, he could get any woman he wanted, why would he want me?

#smut #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth x you #chris Hemsworth series #chris Hemsworth X oc #mcu rpf

[ackerpreach]

This ending .... I can name 500 reasons and I will name them right now, because I don’t think I’m the only one who is upset with how things turned out. (Also, A positive message for all of you at the end)

MAJOR LEAKS SPOILERS/ READ WITH CAUTION

Update: after reading more theories from fellow RM bloggers, and sleeping over it one day, this entire chapter might be an april fools... Don't fully lose hope yet beautiful people. It's me just giving a review on a possible fake April fools chapter

After following this franchise since 2013, so nearly a DECADE. this ending is a pure disserve to the entire fandom. I feel like Yams has rushed it just for the sake of being done with the entire manga. So many things are left open, characters and their developemt are reverted back all the way to chapter 1 or are left even worse than that...

Mikasa’s worthless character development/ Aaronmika’s horrible toxic codependent relationship 

Oh honey... Let’s start with how horrible Isayama has treated her. We were all rooting for her, because we all felt like she was so misunderstood. She had a horrible childhood and imprinted on a guy who treated her like trash 99 percent of the story. And then, slowly but surely, she starts to realize she has to stop obsessing over him in the uprising arc with the help of a real man who treats her like a queen, more importantly, he treats her like a real human being. This man sees her for her abilities and that she has the power to be self dependent. She learned parts of herself, that she was able to work together with him like no one else could.  She learned parts of herself she was unable to do so if she kept obsessing about Aaron. All this love, care, mutual understanding and RESPECT these two shared. 

but...NAH FUCK THAT, right Yams?? Throw all this development away, all this bonding. Let’s make the main female lead even more yandere than she already was in the first season. Let her make out with his decapacitated head (like dude, this is also pure disrespect to Aaron’s dead body btw) and let her obsess even more about the guy who has treated her no better than a piece of toilet cloth 99 percent of the time. The guy who was never really appreciative in front of her for saving his ass billions of times, who always pushed her away, who yells at her and snaps at her whenever he can instead of reasoning and talking calmly with her in mature way. (EVEN PARODY YOUTUBE CHANNELS WHO DONT SHIP ANYTHING MAKE IT A TROPE WHERE AARON TELLS MIKASA HE HATES HER GUTS WHENEVER HE CAN) 

Then after all that, suddenly Yams tries to last minute persuade us Aaron’s always been head over heels for her???  He should have build their relationship better which he hasn’t even tried to do so... He must be thinking his fans are stupid for eating this from his hands.    

Like seriously??? What is this??? 

Isayama is just fully contradicting himself. It’s like someone tipped him off with a buttload of money for him to write Aaron like this to satisfy shipping needs and to cash in those extra money’s from it. Even if he tried to cater to Erem*ika, this is not how you write a loving and caring couple which people will root for. 

This next two panels just freaking infuriates me to the core of my soul. I can’t even describe how dissapointed I am with Mikasa. 

Why is she clutching that head so obsessively like that?  Why is she walking and turning her back away from her comrades? After everything they have done for her, after all they’ve been through?! After everything Armin has done? Standing up for Mikasa, beating up Aaron for hurting her. I feel like even Jean, Connie and Sasha have cared more for her in a healthy way.  Sure, Aaron cares for her romantically too apparently (What a twist Yams :)), but has he aided her to becoming a mentally healthier individual? Has he aided in her mental stability? The answer is a big fat NO!  All I see between these two after today’s raw Chapter’s are too Yandere obsessed individuals who have no clue on how to maintain a healthy relationship. 

Love should only go as far as the heart can endure and it seems like her character is not willing to be aware of that. Even Armin was able to let go of Aaron in those latest panels. Why does her entire character resolve around this guy??? I really do not understand. Her Ackerbond and her age is not an excuse for her to throw her life away like this. 

Shonen’s disgusting portrayal of women 

I’ve seen this countless of times in the many years I’ve watched anime. SasuS*ku from Naruto, Ichih*me from Bleach, Shinji and that oranged hair girl from Neon Evangelion.. Why do these women get decreased to simpletons with one single goal? And that is to obsess over a bland male lead who either treats them like trash or doesn’t notice them up until the last last chapter (LITERALLY WHAT YAMS HAS DONE). Some go even as far as the male leading wanting the kill the female love interest and yet the female lead is still in love with them???. It’s disgusting for him to write the MAIN female character this way. 

It’s dissapointing we believed in Isayama doing Mikasa’s character right. That she’s finally being able to let go of her codependency and to live for herself maybe live in Hizuru and find more about her roots???, but every single time she shows some improvement, it’s burried deep in the ground again by the Author. It almost seems like a lowkey kink of some of the male Mangaka’s to write about a girl obsessing over them no matter what. I see this so many times to the point that I truly stand behind it that some of them might have this fantasy. 

I wished he didn’t portray her last panels like this. Everyone else is living their lives while Mikasa is still grieving about him. I’m not saying she’s not allowed to grieve and everyone takes it at their own pace, but cmon... Show her living her life too. This is too much. Her being next to his grave and grieving him as her last panels just shoves it in our faces that YET AGAIN, BEING OBSESSED WITH AARON IS ALL HER CHARACTER STANDS FOR. 

I truly despise how Isayama handles her grieving, kissing his decapacitated head, carrying it around like some handbag, and her last panels being thissss.

The world leaving Paradis alone miraciously after all that??? 

It’s so weird and out of place with so many political feuds and disagreements between the world and Paradis, the entire Rumbling happening and we can see Mikasa just chilling outside in Paradis with no one bothering them. You can see the rings of the walls in the picture below.  I don’t know the exact reason behind as the manga is still in Korean, but from what I see, the story went the route of: throwing a happy ending without enough proper reason and  it was all fixed just like that in a snap! It doesn’t fit the entire narrative of attack on titan for things to be so peacful out of nowhere. When it comes to the narrative, how things work in that world, how hard it is to achieve peace, everything made somewhat sense up until chapter 138. 139 seems so so out of place...  It’s like I’m reading a chapter from a totally different manga. 

Aaron Yoghurt got defeated so easily/ Aaron’s character assassination

The build up on the first part of the rumbling was great, those kids carrying coins. You could feel humanity’s fear and Aaron’s hatred in those pages. As if he truly had a goal and he has turned away completely from his comrades and his closest friends with no return. The world seemed truly doomed, but he  got defeated just like that. He was in the nape all this time (because screw the warhammer power of hiding yourself elsewhere in his ginormous titan body). There is no master plan as we all expected, and in the end he just acts all yandere in the paths with Armin and that’s it... They massacared his entire character as well. Many fan theories created a better ending with his character. Him being reincarnated as Historia’s baby would be so much better. For him to still keep on seeking and to strive for power. It has always been his motive. It’s his personality from the start until chapter 138. Even if things are okay, to keep on going and to seek that adventure, but then.. He’s so weak and directionless suddenly.. It’s so weird... This is not Aaron at all???

Using Aaron for him this entire post, because I don’t want others to invade our tags... :)))

Historia’s baby 

The only panel we got from Historia’s child was this. Just a normal kid, normal life... Why did Isayama put so much effort in highlighting Historia’s pregnancy if it was nothing too spectacular anyway? It seemed he had major plans for this kid and for their development too??? It’s again, big plans, big developments, big relationship dynamic, but all  got thrown out of the window... 

Don’t read the next sentence if you are a minor :’) 

It’s like almost ejaculating, but stopping right before it and repeating that every single Arc.

My energy when writing about this chapter is the same as Nostalgia Critic and his hatred for atla the live action

In Conclusion...

I know us fans should not be deciding on how this story should end, because this is Isayama’s story after all, but I truly wished for him to wrap up things much more rounded. There are so many unanswered questions... Again, I think for the sake of being done with this manga, he rushed all of it. He’s become a millionaire from this story and now his pockets are jammed full, I guess he doesn’t need to put in any effort anymore, right? Perhaps a controversial opinion, but I really wished he cared for his fans a little bit more with this last chapter by giving some answers that make sense at least. It’s his fans who gave him this platform and the opportunity to tell his story and for him to at least give in a bit of effort especially in the last chapter is the least he can do. Rivamika being canon or not, he truly rushed it without thinking much about the entire story line. He expanded it so much, he didn’t know how to bind it all together.

Even after all this, I’ll still ship them in the headcanon type of way. I do give credit to Isayama for giving us a template for such a beautiful dynamic between Levi and Mikasa. He decides to waste it, but that doesn’t mean we have to.  I want to thank all the people with amazing writing skills, the ones who give us beautiful art like @carmenlee @phit chan @vialesana​ and many more. I want to remind all of you that we can create something beautiful of our own and we don’t neccesarily need canon lore for that. The art I’ve seen, the fanfictions I’ve read have touched me deeper than Isayama ever could at times.The Mikasa in our mind is appreciate of Levi, is mature, classy and has a strong will for herself. They spend their remaining days together peacefully. Keep writing, keep drawing, stay creative. 

I love you all so so much, I’ve only been publicly active since March, but thank you Rivamika fandom for giving me so much joy as a lurker these past 7 years <3

#rivamika #snk leaks #snk 139 leaks #levimika #mikalevi

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Sinking Friendships

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Language, Blood, Car accident, hospital scenes/talk, small talk of religion (sorry it just felt right for the story), angst, fighting, typos

-Words: 5.6K

Author note: Sorry for the shit writing, it was so hard to write the car accident. Tried to make it as medically accurate as possible. Most knowledge derived from Grey’s Anatomy/WebMD. Sorry this chapter is long. Feel free to leave comments or message me directly your feelings while reading the chapter. Every message I've received is so sweet thank you all.

*Anytime 3 dots/ellipses (…) its a sob/breath and a moment of reflection during dialogue.

Chapter 8: Sinking Friendships

Words: 5.6K

Sirens, flashing lights and screams were the only thing Henry remembered. It all happened so fast. One minute Henry and Rosie were laughing together getting lost in each other’s eyes and the next they were both unconscious awaiting their death.

There was no time for Henry to react in anyway. No swerves or movements were made to prevent the impact. A maroon truck had collided Roise’s side, jolting her entire body. Her door was dented beyond belief.

From the forceful impact caused their car skid on the pavement, wearing the paint job away, and crash into the street pole. Henry’s entire body screamed out in pain, his injuries weren’t as bad as Rosie’s though.

“Rosie? Rosie! Rosie!!” Henry called out, desperately wanting to hear her lovely voice. Panic and heartbreak ensued when he saw blood dripping down the side of her head.

Rosie wasn’t moving. How could she be full of life one minute and the next, not? Henry reached over and placed two fingers below her jaw searching for a pulse. He felt he was able to breathe once her felt her few and far between heartbeats, it was faint but it was still there.

“Darling, wake up. Rosie, wake up! Open your eyes for me.”

Henry could feel himself fading by the moment. He used his last breaths to tell the girl he loved he was sorry. Her life was hanging by a thread and in that moment Henry was utterly useless. Praying that she would wake and he would get to hold her again, as everything faded to black.

It had to be about 15 minutes. 15 minutes for an ambulance to arrive. 15 minutes that Henry and Rosie had been unconscious for. 15 minutes of complete stillness, as everyone outside the vehicle panicked. The witness had called 911 multiple times and the other driver was unconscious at his wheel.

After those brutal and possible life ending minutes, help finally arrived. They pulled Henry from the wreck, putting him on a gurney.

“Sir, can you hear me?” called out the paramedic. “Yes. My girlfriend, help her please,” Henry was pleading for his life. How could he be so careless, it was only an accident? “Sir, just lay back. Let us take care of you,” the paramedic uttered, putting her hand on his shoulder to hold him down.

“No. I need to make sure she is okay.”

“Sir, you need to restrain yourself. The other paramedics have got her.”

“ROSIE! Just please let me know if she is okay,” screamed Henry.

“Sedate him please. I’ll go check on the girl,” said the paramedic. Henry faded into a deep sleep a moment later.

“Hey, how’s the girl? Her boyfriend won’t stop asking,” asked the paramedic to the one attending to Rosie. “Unresponsive. She has head trauma and a pulse, thank god,” he murmured. Henry was sent along with Rosie to Kingston Memorial hospital. The hospital was 20 mins away, so much can happen in that time.

Everyone else was sleeping soundly within the walls of the Holland Manor. It started to become a common theme that phone calls in the middle of the night usually meant someone was hurt. This time it was Harrison calling.

“Haz? It’s so late why are you calling?” You asked, jolting awake.

“There’s been an accident and Tom didn’t answer when I called. It’s Rosie and Henry. It sounded bad, Y/N.”

“Oh my god. I’ll see you there,” you responded, barely forming the words as tears started to fall.

“TOM WAKE UP!” you screamed, shaking him awake.

“What?… I’m up. I’m up.”

“There’s been accident.” No more words were said, they just hopped in the car and drove as fast as possible. Tom knuckles grew white clutching around the steering wheel. He couldn’t even begin to fathom a world with his Rosie in it. Harrison was already there, pacing in the waiting room.

“Haz. Where is she?” you said, tears begging to fall.

“I don’t know they won’t tell me anything because I’m not family,” Harrison answered.

“Fuck that, you are our family. How’s Henry?” Tom exclaimed.

“He’s ok. Just a minor concussion and dislocated shoulder, he’s in there right now. They are putting his shoulder back in its socket. He was really lucky but, I am worried about Rosie.” Haz said, just as a doctor dressed in surgical scrubs approached them.

“Are you here for Rosie Holland?” asked the doctor, Tom just nodded in response.

“Mr. and Mrs. Holland, I presume,” continued the doctor

“Yes, that’s us,” Tom replied, clasping your hand in his. He tried to put on a brave face for his wife. You couldn’t both be a mess.

“Ok, Rosie is still in surgery. With extensive injuries like hers we like to keep the family updated as much as possible. Your daughter was the nearest point of impact. She came in with a puncture wound to the abdomen, a severe concussion, massive internal bleeding, many cuts caused by broken glass and severe trauma to her head.”

“Will she be okay?” you asked, accidentally interrupting the doctor.

“Let him finish darling,” Tom said, his grip on her hand tightening.

“It is still too early to know. I have to get back.”

“Alright Doctor, thank you,” Tom acknowledged. You just fell into Tom’s arms, letting all the tears you were holding back fall. You broke into a fit of sobs in his embrace.

“Tom, I don’t want to lose her. I can’t lose her. She’s our baby,” you whimpered, your tears staining his t-shirt

“Shh, darling. She’ll pull through. Remember she is just like her strong mother.”Tom whispered, rubbing a soothing hand over your back.

“Have you gotten in touch with Parker?” Asked Tom as he continued to comfort you.

“No, I’ve been trying. Leaving message after message… Why fuck isn’t he picking up?” yelled Haz. Just then, Henry had walked up, sporting a cloth sling His heart nearly broke as he saw you crying your eyes out buried in Tom’s arms.

“No. No, no, no. Don’t tell me she didn’t make it.” Henry cried as his knees started to buckle at the thought of losing Rosie.

“Henry no, she’s still in surgery. Hey, come here.” Harrison said trying to calm down his son.

“Henry, what the happened?” Tom asked, scared for his daughters life.

“What were you doing with Rosie anyway? It’s late.” Tom questioned again after Henry stood silent, growing louder.

“Hey, Tom. Back off,” Harrison said, standing in front of Tom.

“No. I want to know the reason why my daughter is in there fighting for her god damm life.” Tom screamed. Henry was like a deer caught in headlights. He couldn’t lie his way out of this one. His eyes just shifted between Tom, you and his dad.

“A truck hit Rosie’s side when I was driving, I’m sorry, it was an accident.” Henry cried, barely able to get the words out.

“Son, we know it was an accident. It wasn’t your fault,” Harrison said, comforting Henry.

“Where? Where were you guys?” Tom pestered on.

“Umm, we were on our way back from… from a date. We are dating.” Henry muttered, his eyes glued to the floor.

“What? Y/N did you know about this?” Tom asked, ready to throw hands.

“Yes, Tom,” you murmured, avoiding Tom’s disappointed glare.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Tom screeched.

“And for you. Who the fuck said you could date my daughter?” Tom bellowed, pointing his finger at the poor boy.

“I did kind of give them permission by keeping their secret. In your own time frame though you were supposed to ask Tom,” you muttered, bouncing between Henry and Tom.

“Wait. For how long? For how fucking long?” Tom cursed.

“2 months.” Henry whispered.

“2 months. 2 fucking months. You were lying to me?” Tom screamed, he was livid at you.

“I don’t want you dating her,” Tom growled with an unchanging expression.

“I’m sorry, sir. What?” Henry asked, dumbfounded by Tom’s response.

“Tom, what?” Haz faltered.

“Tom don’t do this, he is a good kid,” you begged.

“Break up with my daughter or there will be hell to pay,” Tom declared and with that he walked away.

“Tom, you can’t do that to them,” you yelled after Tom.

“Really Y/N watch me” Tom said, ignoring his family. His heart had been broken too many times tonight. First when he heard about the accident, another when he had learned of Rosie’s injuries and another when he found out that you had been lying to him. His mind needed to be on one person right now, Rosie.

Tom managed to cool off, but immediately changed the subject anytime you would start to apologize. He didn’t have the energy to focus or listen, all he cared about was Rosie. Parker had showed up 10 mins later, he was off doing god knows what.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Tom yelled, as he saw Parker come through the sliding doors.

“Sorry. I just got your message. Is she okay?” Parker explained.

“We don’t know she is still in surgery,” you whispered, trying to hold back tears.

“What I went out for a bit and shut my phone off. What’s the big deal?” Parker asked.

“The big deal is that I didn’t know where you were. I couldn’t get in touch you. Rosie was in a car accident and I couldn’t call you,” screamed Tom, still angry from the conversation that just perspired

“And Henry?” Parker question, ignoring Tom’s scolding.

“He’s ok. Haz is with him right now, they went to get some coffee,” you informed him.

“Are you okay, mom?” Parker asked, remembering the conversation they had the night before.

“I’ve been better. Just glad you are here,” you said, bringing him into a warm embrace. As they all stood together as a family, Rosie’s doctor came to update them.

“She is out of surgery and stable. Her heart did stop and we were able to resuscitate her, she’s in the ICU now…”

“Can we see her?” Tom asked, interrupting the doctor. A huge weight had just been lifted off his shoulders, his baby girl was going to be okay.

“Yes, but you need to know something. Her brain started to swell in surgery so we had to put her in a medically induced coma to bring down the swelling. We don’t know when she will wake up or if she will at all,” explained the doctor.

All the Hollands stood like statues, unable to process the news. You felt as though you had been punched in the stomach, you wouldn’t be able to handle losing your baby girl.

Minutes, hours and days had melded together. It had been 6 days since the accident and Rosie was still the same, laying unconscious in a hospital bed hooked up to various machines. All of you stayed at the hospital expect for Harrison and Henry. Harrison was running the mob for Tom, for the time being.

You refused to leave her side, spending every waking and sleeping hour right beside her. Seeing your daughter like this was killing you. You weren’t getting any sleep and your hair started thinning.

Rosie looked pale and lifeless, the only thing guaranteeing she was alive was the incessant heart monitor. Her bruises had started to heal, changing from a vibrant purple to an opaque yellow. Everyone prayed she would wake up.

Henry tried to visit everyday but Tom wouldn’t allow it. He was still furious his daughter was dating him and everyone else knew about it except him. Tom’s heart ached for Rosie to wake up and be his funny, sassy, brave girl once again. Tom, however couldn’t stand how the waiting was making you feel.

“Darling. Wake up!” Tom whispered, gently shaking you.

“What? Did something happen? Is Rosie ok?” You exasperated, jolting out of your sleep and trying to catch your breath.

“No, she’s fine. It has just been a while since you had gone home and cleaned up. It might do you some good, baby,” Tom pleaded.

“Tom, I can’t leave her,” you whispered.

“Y/N, it’s ok. Let me take you home and Parker will be here in case anything were to happen,” Tom explained.

You were hesitant at first but eventually agreed, it had been awhile since you had showered or had a decent meal. Living off of the same sweatshirt and hospital cafeteria snacks for the past couple days. All your energy had been put into watching Rosie.

While Tom took you home, Parker was tasked with watching his sister. As kids they were both active and had gotten hurt, only most ever being a broken bone, never a life or death situation. Not only was Rosie Parker’s sister, but she was his twin.

His built in best friend. There had never been a time where he didn’t know her, maybe the first 5 mins of his life, but Rosie soon followed. Sure they fought and argued like all siblings do, but they couldn’t imagine their life without each other. He needed her sarcastic comments and infectious laughter to brighten his day. He needed her warm, slightly awkward hugs and her bitchy attitude once in a while. Parker didn’t know what he’d do without her.

“Rosie, I don’t know if you can hear me but mom is a mess, dad has barely said to word and everyone just needs you to wake up. I need you to wake up…. We all do, especially Henry,” Parker whispered.

“God, he secretly loves you. He hasn’t had the balls to tell you yet, but if that it is what you need to wake up, then do it….Let that be it…. That he loves you, Rosie…. He loves you.”

“I know what it is like to lose someone you love. Charlotte didn’t have a choice, but you do. You can fight and come back to us…. Come back to Henry. He needs you. He calls me every night asking if you had woken up yet. Dad banned him from visiting the hospital. Really fucked that one up didn’t you Roo…. You should’ve told him about you and Henry, but that’s beside the point…. The point is let today or tomorrow or next week be the day I tell him you did…. Just promise me you will wake up ok. I know I don’t say it often but I love you.” Parker got everything he needed to say off his chest. Tears had managed to escape from his eyes as he held her hand. Henry was standing in the doorway, when Parker poured his heart out.

“Hey mate. Mind if I have a minute with my girl?” Henry spoke.

“Not at all. Perfect timing, my parents just left,” Parker said, getting up from his crouched position.

“Yeah, I know. I was parked in the parking lot, waiting for them to leave.”

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Oh, none. None what so ever.”

“So practically all of it?” Parker said in response.

“Yeah,” Henry just nodded along.

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” Parker said as left the room.

Now it was just Henry and Rosie.

Tom had forbidden Henry from seeing her, he hasn’t even gotten to hold her hand. Henry tried to hold back tears as he saw the girl he loved looking half-dead. Her skin had lost its color and her necklace, the one he had given her, was stained with blood sitting in a bag on her bedside.

“Hey Roo. I’ve missed you…. Life hasn’t been the same these past few days. I’ve missed all your good night and good morning texts and your smile.” Henry started.

“Everyone wants you to wake up. They need you to wake up. Can you just open your eyes and flash that smile for me? I need it and I need you…. Rosie,… here it goes,… I love you. I couldn’t stand the thought of you never knowing I love you. So there it is, I love you.”

“I love everything about you…. Your eyes, your laugh, even that weird snort you do. I love you and that has to be enough. It has to be enough for you to wake up and come back to me…. Don’t just do it for me, do it for Parker and your dad and your mom. They have all been losing their minds without you.”

“Rosie, please baby. I love you and that has to be enough,” Henry concluded as tears streaked his face. He moved to press a chaste kiss to her forehead when all of a sudden machines starting going off and beeping left and right.

“Rosie? Rosie stay with me!” Henry didn’t know what was happening. All he knew as that she was still alive and prayed to god he wouldn’t hear her flatlining.

Rosie’s body started to jerk and shake, involuntary. The room filled with nurses and doctors, rolling Rosie on to her side. Her muscles spasming everywhere.

“Sir, you need to leave,” said the nurse, prying Henry away from Rosie.

“No, please let me stay with her,” Henry cried, refusing to avert his eyes from Rosie.

“You need to leave. Let us help her.”

Henry stood crying, peering through the glass doors at the love his life slipping before his very eyes. Her seizure only lasted about 8 minutes but, minutes bleed to hours as tears refused to stop.

“Henry? What happened?” Parker said, running up to Henry crouched on the floor with his knees to his chest and head buried.

“I don’t know. They forced me to leave. Her body started shaking violently, I don’t know what happened,” Henry sniffled, titling his head up. His eyes were beet red and his face was riddled with tears. Parker just stood there dumbfounded. He only left for 10 minutes to get some water. How could so much go wrong in that time.

“Young man, are your parents here,” asked the doctor as everyone came out of Rosie’s room.

“No, they went home to grab some things. Why?… Is she dead?” Parker questioning, pulling at the roots of his hair.

“No, she’s alive, but we can’t share any further information till they get here,” explained the doctor. Parker just nodded in response and Henry was able to breath again, exhaling the breath he was unaware he was holding.

Parker was about to make the call he dreaded. This was the entire reason you refused to leave, in case anything were to happen.

“Parker, what’s up. Is Rosie okay?” Tom said as he answered the Parker’s call.

“Dad, no, you need to get to the hospital. Something happened with Rosie but, they won’t tell me anything,” Parker said, his voice wavering.

“Oh my god, I’ll be right there,” Tom said, hanging up the phone. He had been refusing the chance to break down, he felt as though he had to be strong for everyone else.

“Y/N! Y/N!!” Tom screamed through the house. The one time Tom tries to do something good everything gets screwed up.

“Tom, what?” You exclaimed, startled by his screams

“Something happened with Rosie,” Tom said, a fews tears dripped down his face.

“What? No. No, no, no. I wasn’t there. I’m her mom and I wasn’t there. Why the fuck did you make me leave?” You cried, feeling like a terrible mother. You never should’ve left.

“I’m sorry. Be mad at me later, let’s just go,” Tom said, grabbing his car keys.

Tom’s reckless driving was not the problem at the moment, you just need to be there for Rosie. At the hospital, Tom barely parked properly before they were running through the halls. He came upon Parker in the waiting room, looking disheveled as fuck. His eyes were puffy eyes and hair stood up, he could tell his son was tugging on it in frustration.

Tom needed something to take his mind off Rosie. He needed to punch something or beat someone up or even just take his angry out with words.

“Parker, what happened? Is she okay?” You said, scared for Rosie’s life.

“I don’t know. No one has come out of her room,” Parker explained and you just nodded in response, trying not to cry again.

“Parker, what the fuck is Henry doing in here?” Tom demanded.

“Umm,” Parker mumbled.

“I’m sorry sir, I needed to see her,” Henry said profusely, apologizing

“I don’t care what fuck you needed to do. You are the reason she is dying. You were the one driving,” Tom screamed.

“Tom it was an accident,” you said, trying to reassure yourself in the process.

“Y/N I don’t understand how you can take his side when he almost killed our baby girl.”

“Like, I said it was an accident!” you explained.

“Nurse! Nurse!” Tom yelled.

“Yes, sir. Do you need the doctor?” asked the nurse, worried someone was bleeding.

“No. I want to know who the fuck let this boy in here.” Tom thundered.

“I don’t know sir, I’m so sorry. This won’t happen again,” she explained.

“Tom he can stay. If he is telling the truth about loving Rosie this concerns him as much as it concern us,” you said. This must be killing Henry like it was to you.

“No, he fucking can’t. Now get out, before I have you escorted out of here in a body bag,” Tom threatened.

“Alright, I’ll go. Just please, tell me if she wakes up,” Henry pleaded, slowly walking away. He wasn’t going to go home, he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave, not when Rosie was still in that state.

They all saw the doctor come out of the room and quickly cornered him. A grim expression draped across his face created uneasiness in everyone.

“I’m Y/N Holland, I’m her mother. What happened? I just left for twenty minutes,” you asked, tears streaming down your face as you barged in the room.

“We put her on a ventilator, the seizure was caused by lack of oxygen to her brain,” the doctor said.

“I’m sorry, what? She had a seizure?” Tom said, trying to put the puzzle pieces together.

“Yes. Her brain function has remained unchanged for several days now. In my expert opinion, her outlook isn’t very good. I would prepare yourselves. We can keep her comfortable if you would like or we can arrange her to be moved to a facility where she will possibly heal in the future,” explained the doctor.

“What are you saying? She’s brain dead?” asked Parker chiming in.

“It’s too still early to give a definitive diagnosis, but most likely, yes. I’m sorry for your loss.” The doctor said, exiting the room. You wanted to die right in that moment. A piece of you died the second those words slipped out, you were inconsolable.

“Y/N. Baby, come here,” Tom whispered. Trying to reach out for you, his broken wife.

“Don’t fucking touch me. I should’ve never let you convince me to leave,” you cried.

The guilt was enormous for everything. You were the one who let Rosie and Henry date, without that they would have never been driving together. Never gotten in the accident, you couldn’t help but feel responsible.

It was always the same feeling, you felt walking into Rosie’s hospital room. The feeling of drowning or being burned alive. It’s indescribable. A feeling felt by those who lose their children. You put them on this earth and for them to leave it before you was wrong.

“Rosie, I’m so sorry I left baby. I’m here now and I’m never leaving,” you said, combing your hand through her brown locks.

“But its okay if you need to. It’s okay. I’ll be alright, we all will be…. You can let go…. I love you so much sweetheart, don’t every forget how much mommy loves you…. You can rest now,” you said, moving to Rosie’s side to take her hand in yours. Seeing Rosie like this was tearing you apart from the seems.

It wasn’t long before all tears had put you to sleep. Tom had covered you up with a blanket. You talked to Rosie as though she could hear you. Maybe she could, maybe not but, you definitely wished she could. Tom hadn’t had the chance to break down like you. You needed him to be the strong one, but he was human too.

“Rosie, it’s dad. Everyone besides me has gotten the chance to talk to you, so here it goes,” Tom started.

“I know your mother said that is was ok to leave, but it is not. You hear me. Don’t you dare leave…. Rosie, darling you need to fight. Fight whatever it is that will bring you back to us. You are so much stronger than you lead on baby.”

“I love you so much, please come back to us…. I don’t know if your mother can take losing you. Also that boy you secretly hid from me. Once you wake up you are grounded. I don’t know why you fell for that scruffy looking kid but he needs you, baby. We all do,” Tom concluded. There was no easy fix to this problem. He couldn’t go out and torture somebody or beat them til they broke. Not even money could fix this. He felt completely and utterly useless.Tom reached out to the only thing that could help his daughter, God.

“Hey, god above, I don’t really have a name for you. You are just the one who watches over people, you could be from any religion. I don’t know,” Tom said, clasping his hand together as he spoke to the heavens above.

“I know we don’t talk often and I’m sorry for that and I’m sorry for the despicable acts I’ve committed but I need you help…. My daughter needs your help. She was in a car accident and she hasn’t woken up yet. She’s so young, she has her entire life ahead of her and I want her to experience it all…. I’d really like to walk her down the aisle someday. Can you just bring her back to me? That’s all I ask, just bring her back.”

“Thank you. Shit, I’m believe I’m supposed to say amen and I’m sorry for cursing a second ago. Just remember what we talked about, do this for her not me. God knows I don’t deserve it,” Tom said, ending his plea to the god or gods above.

Tom couldn’t of imagined better timing, with his speech, Rosie’s fingers started to twitch in his hand.

“Y/N wake up?” Tom yelled.

“What, I’m up. Is she ok?” You asked, confused by his outburst.

“Better than ok, her hand moved,” Tom explained.

“Oh my god, really? Parker go get the doctor,” you said, moving towards Rosie.

“Rosie?” Tom said as she started to stir.

“Rosie, baby. I’m here” you said, holding her hand. Rosie eyes fluttered open as she choked on the intubation tube, which gave her oxygen.

“Shh, you’re ok. You were in a car accident with Henry. You’re ok,” you said, softly. The look on Rosie’s face broke your heart. She looked so confused and overwhelmed all you wanted to do was hold her and never let go. Yes, she was a teenager but she will always be your baby girl.

Parker quickly brought the doctor in and he conducted a neurological exam. He removed the tube down her throat, allowing her to breath normally.

“Rosie, you’re awake. Don’t try to talk, it will feel weird for a while. I can get you something for the pain. I’m going to have you do a few tests. Blink once for yes and twice for no, ok?” The doctor explained. Rosie followed his instructions and blinked once. You and Tom were holding each other, praying Rosie didn’t have any brain damage.

“Follow the light for me please. Good. Squeeze my hand. Good grip… These are all amazing signs. Everything looks good. No neurological deficits, but I still would like to get an MRI for her. In the meantime, just rest. It’s going to feel weird as your brain has basically been sleeping for a week,” the doctor concluded, leaving everyone alone to rejoice.

“Mom?” Rosie said, her voice extremely hoarse.

“Yeah, honey. Take it easy,” you said. Words couldn’t describe how you were feeling, you got your daughter back.

“Where’s Henry?” Rosie croaked out.

“He’s ok Rosie, I believe he is outside. Would you like to see him?” You asked, much to Tom’s dismay. Rosie just nodded in response, trying to make everything seem less hazy.

“Rosie,” Henry said with a biggest smile on his face. Nothing could bring this boy down from cloud 9, she was ok. The love of his life was ok.

“Hi,” she said with a half-smile. That’s all she could must her up with her energy.

“Thank god you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Henry said, kissing her forehead.

“We will give you two a minute,” you said, pulling Tom and Parker out of the room. Tom was giving you a bunch of harsh glares, he knew what you were doing. However, he too ecstatic that Rosie was awake to be mad at Henry.

“Are you okay? How do you feel?” Henry asked concerned.

“I’m okay. Henry, I have to tell you something,” Rosie responded.

“I love you…. Walking up in the hospital bed just made me realize who cares if it’s too soon or if you don’t feel the same way, I just had to tell you. I love you,” Rosie declared. This was his chance, break her heart and walk away, she didn’t deserve to be here in a hospital bed. Tom was right, Henry knew what he had to do.

“Rosie, I think we should break up,” Henry said, already feeling like he made the biggest mistake of his life.

“What, why? Did I do something wrong? I thought we were happy. Just yesterday you said you were falling in love me. What the fuck happened?” Rosie faltered, confused by everything.

“Rosie, it’s just not working,” Henry exclaimed with the lamest excuse.

“Fine. Leave,” she said, trying to not let tears fall.

“Roo, we can still be friends.”

“Don’t fucking say that to me. You don’t get to call me that anymore,” Rosie screamed.

“Rosie, I’m sorry,” Henry tried to say something else but was cut off.

“Just get the fuck out. I’m serious, FUCKING LEAVE!!” she thundered as he left. Henry felt like literal shit and an asshole and a fucking idiot all at once. He had just broken the heart of the girl he loves. It was never supposed to happen this way.

“Henry? What’s wrong?” You asked as you saw Henry storm through the halls.

“Are you happy Tom? I did it,” Henry barked.

“Glad she’s awake. Y/N you should go in there, she needs you,” Henry exclaimed, before leaving for good this time.

“Tom, we need to talk about Rosie and Henry,” you said, furious at Tom and his decision to break them up.

“He’s gonna fucking break her heart and I won’t allow it,” Tom yelled.

“You can’t keep them apart and you already did that,” you said sternly, you couldn’t believe the nerve on your husband.

“Y/N end of fucking discussion. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. We don’t keep secrets from each other. For fucks sake, how fucking stupid are you? Letting our daughter whore around with that kid, just like you did,” he vociferated.

“Whore around like I did? Really? Why don’t you look in the fucking mirror?” You screamed, zero fucks were given.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Tom barked.

“I know about you and Jazz.”

“What?”

“You went to a hotel and met her there. Tell me I’m wrong,” you interjected. Tom was too furious to explain his actions, he let you believe he cheated on you.

“Your silence answers my question,” you remarked, wanting to break down inside.

“Tom, just so you know you're sleeping on the couch tonight,” you said. You had your answer now. How could Tom do that to you. I didn’t matter in that moment all that mattered was consoling your daughter who Tom broke.

“Real fucking mature Y/N,” Tom yelled, as you walked away.

“Rosie?” You asked, knocking on her door.

“Mom… he broke up with me,” Rosie said as tears fell.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know what I did wrong…. I swear to god if he met some other chick while I was in a coma.”

“No, nothing like that,” you said, trying to comfort your daughter. There is nothing like a first heartbreak.

“There has to be a reason. One minute I was in love with a boy who loved me back and now, I’m not.”

“Shh, it's okay,” you said, rubbing you hand down Rosie’s back as you pulled her into your arms. How could Henry actually do that to her and flee the scene like a coward. Parker managed to chase him down in the parking lot.

“What the fuck Henry?” Parker called after him

“I did it because I love her,” Henry exclaimed, continuing to walk away.

“Bullshit,” Parker yelled as he punched Henry square in the jaw.

“Owww.”

“I said, I’d fucking hurt you if you broke her heart.”

“Yeah, I know. It was still a shitty threat, but I deserved that.”

“I don’t understand what happened Henry. One minute you tell me you love her the next you don’t…. I don’t know if I will ever understand but you can’t come by the house for awhile,” Parker pleaded, wanting to know the truth.

“Alright. Just tell her I’m sorry mate.” Henry concluded, feeling like literal shit and an asshole and a fucking idiot all at once. He had just broken the heart of the girl he loves. It was never supposed to happen this way.

Author note: I'm sorry for all those who love Rosie and Henry. Don't be afraid to call me a bitch for breaking your heart, my brother did when he read it. Also Tom is a literal asshole in this chapter.

I really can't wait for you guys to read the next ones, even if you don't ask for it. I will post hints for the next chapter with emojis because it's fun.

Guns, Glamour, Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy

#Mob!tomhollandxreader #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #dad!mob!tom holland #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom #mob tom #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x mob!reader #harrison osterfield #mafia au #mob au #tom holland x reader

[ihni]

Harringrove Feedback Fest: Ihni recs FICS (WIPs):

DON’T LET THE TITLE SCARE YOU AWAY. WIPs are nothing to fear; in fact following a story can be a MARVELOUS thing. All the anticipation, the butterflies in one’s stomach, the absolute JOY when you see that one of your favorites has been updated ...! It’s a glorious feeling.

For this list, I’m reccing fics that are still being written. Works in Progress. And as EVERY author knows, feedback makes us THRIVE, so go and give them a read (and some love!).

***

First up is Second Thoughts by @callieb, because I just read the latest chapter this morning (it’s back on a semi-regular update schedule, and it’s SO SO good and I love it so much! The boys have to work together reading Jane Austen right after the night at the Byers’, and we get to follow them on the road to forgiveness, friendship and ... well. Maybe more :p Let’s see what the future holds. OH, and also also ALSO, Operation: Child Endangerment, which is a fic where Billy joins the Scoops Troop down under the mall. It was written from my prompt, I’m proud to say, and I am very very very excited about it (and don’t worry @callieb, no rush, I just LOVE it but I’ll wait for YEARS, idc!)

As everyone who has ever read their stuff knows, @platypanthewriter is an absolute MACHINE when it comes to writing (they wrote 84K for the April prompts!!), and their story Strangest is a BEAST - but one that I love dearly! Misunderstandings, broken boys getting better, and angst with a happy ending. (Or at least I’m HOPING for a happy ending, what with it being ONE CHAPTER FROM FINISHED now!). Don’t let the word count scare you away - it’s 184K of greatness so far!

Some absolutely GORGEOUS writing can be found in @raquelobo3‘s The Monster at the End of This Book. I’m not kidding, I read ONE CHAPTER and the words wormed their way into my heart and into my brain and I gasped out loud and was SO IN LOVE with the writing, that I hit subscribe. Just, trust me on this one guys. Give it a read.

One of my favorite stories ever is Words Left Unsaid by @lemonlovely. I have been following it for years, and I love it so much. Every chapter is a gift, ever update a cause for celebration. Lemonlovely has the ability to sneak in details into their writing that makes me gasp (and then google). Just, they create a special kind of atmosphere with their words, and I cannot recommend it enough. (And since we’re talking fics by Lemonlovely, I also have to rec Where is my mind, where Steve gets amnesia after the night when they closed the gate, and basically only remembers Billy ... only he thinks they’re friends!)

Speaking of amnesia fics ... pretty boy + blue by @gideongrace is AMAZING so far, and I have inside information that says it’s gonna CONTINUE to be amazing, too! It ALSO has Steve with amnesia ... but this one is the opposite of the last one, in that they’re already together when Steve forgets ... and he doesn’t remember Billy as anything but a bully. ANGST AHOY (sign me the FUCK up!).

A Love I Can Never Have by ExTeenageDirtbag is one of those fics that live rent-free in my brain, and I cannot let go of it. Four chapters that absolutely DREW ME IN, with Upside Down shenanigans with the whole crew and deliciously outcasted (yes, now it’s a verb) Billy. Some scenes from this are BURNED ONTO MY RETINAS and I seriously, for real, would dance of joy if it got updated. And even though it’s a WIP, I still go back and re-read it at times. Because it’s just that compelling.

@laveracevia wrote Who’s Gonna Drive You Home? and it has hurt/comfort and boys SLOWLY (very slowly) getting closer, and secrets spilling out and being snowed in, and cold and hurt boys and just - so much that I absolutely love. (Come to think of it ... I think it’s due for a re-read ...)

The Parent Escape by @little-werewolf-oven is ... such a goddamn GREAT fic premise! I have been known to re-read this at times when I need something good and familiar. Basically Billy has an unknown twin brother named Jason, and they meet at juvie camp. Jason is curious about his real dad, Billy’s excited about a chance to NOT have to be with his real dad for a while ... so they switch places. It’s great! Read it.

The next rec, I wanna preface it ... pref... uh, START, by saying that I am usually not a big fan of a/b/o? Like, I am a casual a/b/o reader, at best. But there are some works out there that lures me into this trope and is slowly winning me over, and one of those is Here I Go Again by the uncomparable @heck-in-a-handbasket. Billy as an Alpha who’s a single caretaker of Max, and then Steve, who’s an (outcast) nanny omega who don’t need no man (but who maybe wants one anyway). Okay so my description of it is shit, but I love this story and highly recommend it.

There’s something very interesting about a Billy who finds alternate means to get some cash, and  dulcepericulum (keziahrain) is writing this story Don’t let me in, I don’t know what I’d do which deals with Steve finding out about that. I am very into it and always am happy to see an update!

@cherrydreamer is one of the best people around, and so far I have loved everything by them I have read. I’m gonna have to hurry and rec Fill the Empty Spaces, since it’s just one measly chapter away from being finished. It still counts as a WIP though! And it’s just so ... delicious! The boys are written perfectly, there’s COOKING and the QUARRY and the KIDS and D’n’D ...! Just, do yourselves a favor here. Read this. (And leave it some love!). (Oh, and if you’re like me and can’t resist a birthday fic, don’t miss out on their Blow Out the Candles of your Cake (They Will Not Leave You in the Dark))

How Near You Stand To Me by @boudoirwriter is FANTASTIC and PAINFUL and SO SO GOOD. Like, this is a kind of fic that I get so exited about when it updates, but then I have to psych myself up to reading it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s absolutely fantastic. It just deals with heavy topics. And if you’re up for it, I can’t recommend it enough. It’s just ... wow.

And okay, listen. Simple Man by @straight-outta-hobbiton is probably the reason why I have like ten books of self-sufficiency and prepping currently in my bookcase. Billy finds a cabin in the woods, and ... moves in. And gets, like, chickens and stuff. Learns how to survive off the land. It’s good for him, it’s good for me, it’s good for everyone. It doesn’t have to be complete to be absolute greatness.

In the mood for a time loop? Great, because unstuckintime is writing over and over again where Steve is stuck in a time loop, immidiately after Starcourt. Mmmm delicious.

And the last one here DOES count as a WIP even though it technically hasn’t been posted on AO3 yet (but I’m already following @gravegroves on there, in anticipation of whatever will be posted!), but this snippet of an AU where Neil is the Mindflayer gripped me by the heartstrings and pulled, and now I’m eagerly awaiting more of it. (More of ALL their writing, really, since everything they’ve posted so far has been *chef’s kiss*)

***

That’s gonna have to be all for today. You can find my other recs for the Harringrove Feedback Fest here.

#ihnirecsforthefeedbackfest #harringrove feedback fest #fic recs #fic rec #harringrove fic #wips #don't be a pussy and shy away from the wips though!! #they're well worth a read #just like a sketch is an artwork in itself

[aerialflight]

Fic Recs (cause it's always nice to give a shout out and get people into things I'm into rn)

[The Magnus Archives] (I recently finished the podcast and I fell into a hole for a while so here you go)

Sing a Song of Sixpence by Kaiel

Ship: Jon/Martin

In which Jonathan Sims is a Siren, and he fails to notice any new abilities granted to him by the position of Archivist. Or really anything about the Entities at all.

Takes place in season 1 featuring Jonah Magnus’s slow decent into madness

(The new mythology interwoven with tma's worldbuilding is so freaking good and I love how all the characters change and develop because of these changes. Also, f you Elias)

Along Came a Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Ship: implied Jon/Martin

Sasha James is the Archivist, as expected. Martin Blackwood is menaced by Jane Prentiss, as expected. Elias Bouchard weaves his web, as expected.

All goes as it should.

At least until something calling itself Jonathan Sims steps in.

(Web!Jon in this makes me want to weep, it's so freaking good. A pretty long, very excellent oneshot on what could've happened if Jon got taken by the web when he was a kid. And Sasha as the Archivist is ALWAYS so cool, we love her in this house.)

A Break in the Clouds by Ash_Rabbit

“I’m eight.” the kid sniffs as if eight was any different from four, maybe not an unspeakable horror then, just a regular horror. “And I heard that the Magnus Institute deals with-” his little nose scrunches, cute. “-spooky things.”

“Do you have a-” he cracks a grin, and then rethinks it as small hands tighten against their burden.”-spooky thing to deliver?” gods he hopes not, it’s bad enough when adults walk in and lay out all of their baggage, but for a child-

“There’s a spider in this book.” the kid says solemnly, raising his textbook sized parcel. “It ate Evan Pritchard.” a bloody fucking Leitner. Of course an eight year old would find a murder spider book. “This seemed like the best place to bring it.”

(I never thought about what the Original Elias could've been like AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE OF THIS FIC. I LOVE HIM, HE'S COMPLEX AND HE CARES AND JON CARES AND THEY BOTH CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. THIS IS THE CONTENT I WANT, OMG. Also, Jon being even smaller than usual is adorable, so cute. No wonder Elias wants to hug him, a LOT.)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

Ship: Jon/Martin, Jon/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

(One of my all time fave fics in this fandom, no questions asked. I have reread this three times and am open to doing it again, god. Vast!Jon, such a concept. It's written so beautifully and the relationships Jon develops, so good. ugh. My heart. Please please read.)

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Ship: Jon/Martin

“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes.

“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?”

Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up.

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--”

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

(You have no idea how much I howled through this fic, my god. *buries face in hands* The number of times I wanted to cry from sheer hilarity and horror reading this good lord.)

Things Could Always Be Worse by theOestofOCs

Ship: Jon/Martin, Georgie/Melanie

Sometimes, the most horrifying thing of all is what might have been.

Somewhere, Jon could swear he heard a crowd laughing.

Or: in which Jonathan Sims is forced to swap places with his alternate self—a tall, chivalrous hero extraordinaire, who knows neither fear nor nuance—and is sent to the aggressively straight alternate universe the Magnus Archives was never meant to be.

“Whatever place this is,” Jon announced, “I just want to be sure it knows I hate it.”

(I will say this once, THIS IS THE MOST CURSED THING IVE EVER READ EVER. Like holy hell. I can't believe this thing exists. please read it oh please please please)

-

[Supernatural]

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) by Schmuzz

Ship: Dean/Cas, Jessica/Sam

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things:

1. Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; 2. He has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; 3. He keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who seems to be about as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is.

For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

(THE fic I'm most into right now, been following this from the very start and it's AMAZING. Cas has agency and is making friends and S1 Dean is growing out of John's influence and is becoming a Person and the both of them first being friends then more. The slow burn as their relationship develops, SO GOOD. SO SO DAMN GOOD. *screams* Seriously one of the best spn fics I've read in a long, long time.)

anamnesis by cenotaphy

Ships: Castiel/Dean, Sam/Eileen

Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be.

* Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19.

(THIS IS THE FIC THAT GOT ME THROUGH THE FINALE OKAY. WHY COULDN'T THIS HAVE BEEN CANON. It's Disturbing and honestly plot-wise this makes more sense. Why couldn't we have had this. *screams*)

-

[Avatar: The Last Airbender]

where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor

Ship: Sokka/Zuko

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

(The fact one of the tags in this fic is, "Sibling Dynamic: Fucked Up But Wholesome" should give you an idea what this fic is like. Chaotic as HELL and I just love Azula here, she loves Zuko so much in her messed up way and Zuko loves her back in the exact same way lol. It's batshit and I am Here For This.)

-

[Naruto]

Eclipse by AislingRoisin (JayBird345) for HybrisAnaideia

Ship: Nara Shikaku/OFC

"In life, it's easier to remain stagnant and wallow in your troubles. But life isn't merely about continued existence, nor is it meant to be gone through alone."

(This is a fic that's slept on and I NEED people to read this. A self-insert fic that I find really interesting in its approach and the worldbuilding for the post-third war shinobi world is fantastic. I feel like there's a certain pattern with self-insert fics, not that is a detriment in any way to how much I enjoy them, so this fic feels fresh to me in a way I haven't read in a while. I am waiting eagerly for this to get updated! Please read!)

On Freedom and Other Formalities by iaso

Ship: Kakashi/Genma/OFC

When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally. SI/OC

(Listen, LISTEN, it's about the slow burn, the longing, the communication (it both has and hasn't and isn't THAT great??), the messy way you fit three very different people together, it's so freaking good! Also, Kakashi is so Chaotic here this is my fave characterization of him, you can't change my mind. And Genma is a Good Boi who is Doing His Best, along with the Self-insert character who I LOVE SO MUCH, SHE'S FANTASTIC FNEIWOPAF. Sped past this fic in the speed of light, I could not stop reading!)(Honestly, read all of the author's fics, they're all really REALLY good!)

Building a Castle by WhisperingDarkness

Without needing anyone to tell her, Sakura knew that talking to someone no-one else could see or hear would make her weird. It would draw the bad kind of attention to her, something people could make fun of her for.

She didn’t like being weird, but she did like the voice. Her inner voice was helpful and it was a part of her that had always been there. The idea of it not being there would have been so much weirder than anything else.

It was during her first year at the Academy that Sakura realised the voice was not in her head at all, but that it came from a cloudy shape floating next to her.

(Basically a short-ish retelling of Hikaru no Go. Only with more Shogi and Nara and Ninja's)

(Sakura can see ghosts (I'm noticing this is a popular trope for her) and it's really cute haha! Her relationship with Tobirama is sweet and I just enjoyed reading this so much.)

-

[The Magicians]

So Long (And Thanks For All The Books) by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)

Ships: Quentin/Eliot, James/Julia, Quentin/Margo/Eliot

When Quentin is told Julia wasn't admitted to Brakebills, he realizes he has a drastic decision in front of him. If he tells Julia about magic, he'll have his mind wiped as well as hers. But he can't just leave her behind, either. He can't lose his best friend, and he can't let her life a life with her magical potential stolen away from her.

So he makes a third choice.

(Really, and I mean REALLY well-done canon divergent fic, this is the Quentin & Julia friendship fic I have been looking for forever. It explores so much of what could've happened and I just love Quentin here, I really really do. Characterization done so right. I also recommend the author's other works too. Been a follower of them for a long time, they're great.)

-

[Game of Thrones]

The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey

Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]

(I swear, this fic made me laugh so many times, all the Stark are BAMF and fantastic, and Rhaegar gets Wrecked lol. It's crack btw, and the plot goes in directions you'll never guess and it's amazing hahaha!)

-

[Haikyuu!!] (I am very very late to the fandom but here I am)

Ballare (To Dance) by MidnightSparks

Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, and platonic Kageyama & Kentarou (really love their friendship)

Kageyama’s first love is volleyball. His second, however, is ballet.

In one world, Kageyama Tobio is left behind by his parents. In this world, the existence of soulbonds keeps Kageyama’s parents in Miyagi and leaves Kageyama in the care of his grandma and grandpa.

(In which soulmates exist and that changes everything and nothing at the same time.)

(*buries face in hands* I have fallen for this ship so hard and I can't get out fudge me. I understand now. Their DYNAMICS FIEWONPAF)

Kings of Tomorrow by bokubroya (liarielle)

Ship: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

On the eve of Tobio’s 16th birthday, he counts down the seconds to midnight, and emerges with Oikawa Tooru’s name on his wrist.

It’s been two years since then, and Tobio thought they had an understanding. A silent, never spoken about understanding that this thing between them is nothing, and they’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Of course, it’s just like Oikawa to change the game and leave Tobio wondering what comes next.

(I am WEAK for soulmate fics between these two, I don't even really like soulmate fics half the times what is WRONG WITH ME-)(Please suffer with me, I'm begging you. Its a good fic, thumbs up.)

-

[Crossover]

Honey and Magic by JustARatherVerySillyWriter, White_Squirrel for Super Carlin Brothers

Fandoms: Matilda (yeah you read that right), Harry Potter

Everyone knew Matilda was a rather extraordinary child, but even she didn't know she was a witch. Matilda Honey receives her Hogwarts letter in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and soon, she will leave her unique mark on the magical world.

(Do I even need to explain how amazing it is to have Matilda in the wizarding world? And Matilda is a HUFFLEPUFF AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL THIS FIC IS GREAT PLEASE READ!!!)

An Eye for an Eye by DpsMercy

Fandoms: The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale

In which Jonathan Sims is not from the UK but instead, if you took his origins and turned them sideways twice then flipped them over, he technically would be from the US, the town of Night Vale specifically. Elias can’t do shit about it and gets a headache and slowly creeping madness instead.

(Look, I know probably everyone has read this because if they haven't, what have you been DOING with your lives??? Jon interning at Night Vale is Incredible, nothing phases this man, it's Delightful. I laughed so many times reading this, I'm not even kidding right now. Read or perish.)

The Favour by R_Cookie

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Ship: Original Percival Graves/Harry Potter

Percival is ten years old when his grandfather tries to tell him that he's ensured the greatness of the Graves legacy for him, that he ought to be eternally grateful - but the explanation is hijacked by a stranger who manages to intimidate Chester Graves with an ease never seen before.

or: Hadrian (Harry) Potter is the Master of Death, who grants Graves a boon. Nobody could have known that the Deathly Hallows didn't turn you so much into the 'Master of Death' as into the anthropomorphic personification of Death. And so, Death becomes Percival's guardian angel, and Percival does not spit out his cereal.

(Look, I don't know how I stumbled back into the FBAWTFT fandom either, it just happened and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found this amazing fic. Their relationship is slow and strange and I just love how Percival is characterized here. Also, one of the tag promises that it deviates from canon so I am really, really excited for that! XD)

baby that's what i do by natanije

Fandoms: Naruto, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

"Are you telling me," Hidan exclaims, incredulous, "that you collect money all this time to give to orphans?!"

Kakuzu pauses. He blinks a few times.

"Huh. I guess I do."

(Tsuna reincarnates as Kakuzu and it's HILARIOUS. HE'S SUCH A MOM HAHAHA)

#Fanfiction #AO3 #Fic Rec #Fic Rec List #Podcasts #The Magnus Archives #Supernatural #Avatar The Last Airbender #Naruto #The Magicians #Game of Thrones #Haikyuu!! #Crossover #Matilda #Welcome to Night Vale #Harry Potter #Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them #Katekyou Hitman Reborn