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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 3 years

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that makes four.

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PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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spidernerdsblog · 3 years

Text

🎄First Times🎄

A/N : This is an extra for my first ever series I Forgot That You Existed. Feedback and suggestions are always welcome.

Pairing : Dad! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary : Your and Tom's first Christmas with your baby girl.

Warnings : fluff

There's something about first times. The first time riding a bicycle, first love, going on your first date, first kiss. There's an unknown excitement in it, a thrill, a feeling of adventure. Those first times will always be special. Just like your first Christmas with your baby girl.

After 3 years of marriage you and Tom are proud parents of your one and only daughter Vienna. She was the apple of your eye after all she's your first born. The first time you got to know that you were pregnant was during one of your recording sessions when you suddenly felt nauseous and had to run to the bathroom to throw up. You knew this wasn't mere food poisoning from your past experience and to be honest you and Tom had been trying for a baby for quite some time after you finally decided that you are ready to embrace motherhood again.

You were rather thrilled than scared this time while you took the test and seeing the two pink lines made your heart swell as a few tears of joy slipped your eyes. When Tom returned home you just ran into his arms to reveal the news that you were expecting and joy knew no bounds for him. He immediately lifted you up and spinned you around in the living room in excitement.

The first time you went for your check up and saw your baby girl on the monitor Tom was literally sobbing. You were being very careful this time. During the last trimester Tom didn't want to leave your side at all. You had to literally throw him out of the house (pun intended) to go for his shoots.

You couldn't believe how time flew so fast that the little human you both brought to this earth is almost a year old now. It felt like yesterday you brought her from the hospital wrapped in a blanket in your arms and now she crawls around the house as well as has learnt to stand on her little feet. You never get tired of listening to her continuous babbles with some broken words she has learnt eventually.

And not to be surprised her first word was obviously ‘Dada’ ofcourse she was daddy's girl because the way Tom has spoiled her rotten since the day she was born you really are gonna have a hard time in future saying no to her and hearing that Tom went on a shopping spree that day, if he could he would have bought the whole toy shop you thought.

Christmas was around the corner and everyone was in their festive mood. You were in the kitchen baking cookies when your husband came down the stairs hastily.

"Honey where is my Christmas jumper?" he asks from across the living room.

"Tom, what is your obsession with that old jumper? Now even the jumper also says let me go Thomas." You joke from the kitchen. Tom huffs rolling his eyes.

"That jumper carries a lot of sentimental value for me. C'mon now tell me where is it?" he whines.

"It's in the left bottom shelf of the cupboard." You yell from the kitchen.

"I already looked there."

"Then look hard it's there only." Sometimes you really feel that you are actually looking after two babies.

Tom ran upstairs again to your bedroom where your 12 months old daughter was sleeping peacefully. He searched through the cupboard and finally found his jumper but the noise he made while doing it woke Vienna up. Tom turned to see his little princess sitting up on the bed with sleepy eyes.

"Oh did I wake you up bubs? So sorry peanut. Daddy was looking for his jumper." He went and sat beside her on the bed. She instantly got up on his lap, her little hands clutching onto his t-shirt as support and standing up. Tom forgot about everything and began playing with her, her little giggles making his heart melt. After a while she started to get a little fussy and Tom knew that his baby girl was hungry.

"I know baby it's time for you to have some brekkie, let's see what mommy is doing eh."

"Look who’s up." Tom announces cheerfully walking down the stairs. You turned around and your face instantly lit up seeing your morning sunshine resting her head on her daddy's shoulder suckling her thumb.

"Aww you are up my little pumpkin wait a moment mommy is almost done" Tom strolled around the house with her. He went and stood near the glass doors overlooking his snow covered lawn.

"Look at that peanut, it's snowing isn't it beautiful." He cooed, rocking her gently in his arms making her giggle. Tom was about to slide the door open to the lawn to take her out.

"Tom it's freezing outside, V isn't wearing enough warm clothes. She will catch a cold" You stopped him.

"Your mommy is way too paranoid." Tom says rolling his eyes dramatically looking at your daughter.

"I can hear you." You say in a sing-song manner from the kitchen. Tom makes his way to you in the kitchen.

"Here I can do the rest of the batch" he offers, taking the tray from your hand."My little princess needs to be fed first." He says and you take Vienna from his arms. Tom continued with preparing the rest of the batch of cookies as you fed your daughter.

Later in the evening you were busy decorating the christmas tree with Tom when you noticed Vienna playing and tugging on to some wires. You panicked out of your motherly instinct.

"Baby no don't touch it, you'll get hurt." You came rushing, taking away the lights from her small hands. She stared at you with her doe eyes for a while before crawling away to get the other decorating stuff from the box.

"God, she's such an active baby, never sits in one place." You shake your head smiling.

"Well she's my daughter." Tom says proudly.

"Okay Billy Elliot, now go and put Billy Elliot Jr in the crib or else she will not let us set up the tree." Tom did as you said as he placed Vienna in the crib when your attention went to the lights you were holding in your hands and you frowned.

"Tom, why did you bring the bigger lights?"

"Why what's the problem with the big one?" He asks casually.

"Tom the big ones are for the lawn and the small ones are for the tree. It has always been like that." you state in disappointment.

"For a change let's put the big ones on the tree this year." He suggests.

"No way! it will look odd." you say annoyed.

"Gosh you're such a control freak." he huffs.

"No I'm not, it's just my tastes are better than yours." You retort. Soon you both began arguing and seeing the tension between her parents Vienna started crying. Both of you stopped arguing as your full attention turned to your one year old and you both felt guilty of arguing in front of her.

"Aww baby did we scare you? We are so sorry honey." You rushed to her picking her in your arms, rocking her gently pacifying her. She stopped crying after sometime. You sat down on the couch with Tom beside you.

"We shouldn’t have fought like that on such a petty issue I’m sorry I over reacted." You felt sorry.

"No it’s my fault that I messed up the lights, I’m sorry Y/N" Tom apologises

"Hey it’s ok we can put the big ones this year." Tom and you leaned in for a reconciliation kiss but was interrupted by your little munchkin’s hand as if she didn’t want you to kiss Tom.

"Someone seems to be a little possessive." You pout scrunching your nose.

"Well what can I say my little girl loves her dad more, isn’t it princess?" He boops her nose gently to which she giggles.

"Don’t flatter yourself mister." you snicker.

"Aww don’t get disheartened, love." you slap his chest playfully.

"Shut up and do the rest of the decoration I need to put her to sleep, it’s almost her nap time."

"Okay mam." You took Vienna with you to the bedroom to put her to sleep while Tom carried on with the rest of the decorations. After finishing he went upstairs to call you for watching a movie together.

"Hey Y/N" Tom popped his head through the door.

"Shh!" You hush him immediately. "She just fell asleep". You whisper.

"Sorry." He mouths. I have set up everything. He whispers.

"Okay I’ll be down in a minute." You whisper back. You went down to the living room to find two cups of tea and snacks kept on the coffee table while Tom was lounging on the couch busy choosing a christmas movie to watch for tonight. You went and sat on the couch snuggling close to him resting your head on his broad chest, he smiled wrapping his arm around you. Even though you were totally enjoying parenthood, you also cherished these alone times with your husband. Just two of you cuddled close into each other’s warm embrace. The intimacy of the moment is so soothing and relaxing after a long day. You wondered what you did to get this perfect man as your husband with whom you brought an angel in your lives. You felt you have everything you could have asked for and you are grateful. Tom noticed you lost in deep thought.

"What’s going on in this little mind?" He taps on your head lightly.

"Just can't imagine she's already one. Soon she will go to school then college and a few years later she might bring a boy for the Christmas Dinner to meet with us and then get married and have her own children" you went on as Tom perked up.

"Woah woah slow down, love. You are going way too fast forward. And moreover she isn't dating until she turns 30." He says like a protective father, you let out an airy laugh.

"Look now who's been paranoid huh?" you raise a sly brow.

"Well you know there’s a lot of no good sons of bit.."

"Uh uh language." You interrupt.

"Sons of butterflies out there." He corrected his dialogue as you both chuckle softly turning your attention back to the movie playing in front of you.

........................................................

Taglist in bio.

#tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagines #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #dad!tom #christmas

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

My Girl - Oh Baby

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: everyone things Paddys crush on you is adorable. Everyone except Tom.

Check out the full series:

My Girl

My Girl - Something Blue

Regular Masterlist

A/N: another story where I mention chickens. Also, where are my gleeks

“I still can’t believe you bought chickens.” You laughed at a photo of Tom and his chickens before shutting your phone off and setting it on your nightstand. You rolled over in bed to face Tom as he let out a sigh.

“I had to!” He protested. “They’re not that bad. Our family of two has become a family of 5 now.”

You watched him carefully, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth before you asked the question that had been weighing on you.

“What about expanding our family even more?” You asked him, impatiently waiting for his reaction.

“Honestly, Angel, I love you but I can’t handle anymore chickens.” Tom looked at you apologetically and you laughed.

“No, I didn’t mean more chickens.” You shook your head and he raised an eyebrow.

“Another dog?” He questioned. You took this as an opportunity to take his hand and squeeze it.

“A baby.” You said softly. Toms eyes lit up at a happy smile appeared on his face.

“What?” He leaned in closer to you to make sure he was hearing you correctly.

“I want to have a baby, Tom.” You repeated. “I want to start our family.”

“You want to have a baby? A human baby?” His smile got impossibly wider.

“Preferably.” You chuckled.

“Really? Like really, really?” He sat up and squeezed your hands, looking at you with all the hope in the world

“Really, really.” You cupped his face and beamed at him. “So what do you say?“

“I say let’s make a baby.” Tom said triumphantly before pulling you into a kiss.

“We have an announcement.” Tom said excitedly as he stood before his family. It reminded him of the time he’d announced your engagement, or even the time he first told his brothers that he was dating you. He snuck a glance at you, admitting how far you’d come together. From his childhood crush to his wife, and soon the mother of his child.

“Divorce.” Paddy jumped up, ruining Tom’s daydream. “We all saw it coming.”

“What? No.” Tom quickly shut him down.

“Why are you smiling?” Harry questioned his younger brother.

“Lots of marriages end in divorce.” Paddy shrugged. “It’s okay, Y/n. It’ll be okay.”

You looked at Tom in amusement who had his hands firmly on his hips.

“What about me?” He snapped at Paddy. “And why am I bothered that you wouldn’t comfort me in my hypothetical divorce?”

“You have an announcement?” Nikki tried to bring the conversation back.

“Yes. We do.” Tom pointed at him mom before taking your hand in his. “Y/n and I are trying for a baby.”

“Ahhh!” Nikki screamed and got off the couch, running to hug you. Dom went to Tom and patted him on the back proudly.

“This is great news, Tom. I’m so happy to hear it.” Dom congratulated his son.

“Congrats, man.” Harry enveloped Tom in a bear hug.

“I’m the one you should be congratulating. I’m gonna be an uncle!” Sam joined in on the hug.

“But I’ll be the superior uncle.” Harry popped his head up from the hug to glare at Sam.

“There’s no one superior to Uncle Sam. Ask America.” Sam scoffed.

“We’re English.” Tom deadpanned.

“And? They beat us in all those wars. Maybe they’re onto something.” Sam retorted.

“I can be the fun uncle, you’ll be cool uncle, and Paddy will be the uncle that’s been staring off into space ever since Tom and Y/n announced they were trying for a baby.” Hardy joked as they turned their attention to Paddy. He wasn’t wrong. Ever since Tom made the announcement, Paddy had been staring off in a blank daze.

“Paddy? You all right?” Tom asked wearily.

“Do I seem all right?” He said without releasing his gaze.

“You seem possessed.” Harry remarked.

“You guys can’t have a baby!” Paddy sputtered, snapping his attention to you and Tom.

“Here we go.” Tom sighed, knowing the gripe was ahead.

“You’re so young and Tom is so immature and Y/n already works so hard while Tom plays dress up and…” Paddy stopped and took a deep breath, his eyes landing on the look on your face. You had been smiling before he spoke, and now you weren’t. He recalled the conversation he’d had with you at the wedding, how happy you were when he finally accepted your relationship with Tom. He sighed and gave a gentle smile. “And I’m really happy for you guys.”

“You are?” Your eyes lit up. Paddy gave you a gentle smile and a nod.

“Yeah. Toms taken care of me all my life. It’s time he takes care of someone else.” He decided. You broke into a huge smile and ran to hug him.

“Thanks, Paddy.” You said as you wrapped your arms around him. “I’m glad that you feel that way.”

He hugged you back, pleased with himself for making you happy. Maybe he didn’t support your relationship, but he was never gonna stop trying to make you happy.

Later that night, you and Tom sat in bed, brainstorming ideas for the baby’s name.

“If it’s a boy, how about Neil Patrick Holland?” You suggested as you flipped through a baby book.

“Dare I say I’ve never heard a worse idea.” Tom chuckled as he looked up from his own parenting book.

“Really? I think it’d be funny.” You shrugged as you turned your attention back to the book.

“It won’t be funny when our child resents us for giving him that name.” Tom pointed out and you chuckled.

“Fine. How about Hamlet?” You suggested and Tom gave you a tight lipped smile.

“Why don’t you let me think of the names, yeah?” He said as politely as he could.

“Well what were you thinking?” You challenged him.

“Well, for a girl, I was thinking Beth.” He said timidly, nervous of your reaction. A small smile lit up your features, all the way to your eyes. You shut your book and looked at Tom fondly.

“Beth? Like our wedding song?” You asked. He nodded shyly.

“Exactly.” He said. “Or maybe Charlie for a boy?”

“Like your grandpa.” You recognized the name.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” He wanted time make sure you were okay with it too.

“I don’t mind at all.” You reached over and laced his hand in yours. “I love those names.”

“And I love you.” Tom leaned in to kiss you. You went back to reading your books, still holding hands. After a beat of silence, Tom reached the bottom of his page.

“Baby?” Tom spoke gently.

“Yeah?” You replied, still reading.

“How do we turn the pages?” Tom asked.

“Is it time?” Tom nervously cracked his knuckles after waiting the longest five minutes of his life. You nodded curtly and picked the pregnancy test up from the counter, not looking at it yet.

“Yeah. Come here.” You waved him over and he came quickly. He held your hand and kissed the back of it as you uncovered the results.

“Negative.” You read with a shaky voice. You threw the test down and covered your face with your hands, not wanting Tom to see you getting emotional. “That’s our fourth negative.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Tom tried to pull you into a hug but you pulled away.

“No it’s not!” You threw them stick down, making Tom jump. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong with me?”

You sat down on the toilet and cried hot tears of frustration into your hands. Tom knelt down beside you and put a gentle hand on your back.

“Theres nothing wrong with you, angel. This isn’t your fault.” He said softly, rubbing slow circles on your back. You looked up at him through your tear filled eyelashes.

“I can’t do the one thing humans were put on this earth to do.” You said through gritted teeth. He gave you a comforting smile and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“Hey, women are not baby making machines, okay?” He chuckled softly. “We’ve only tried a few times. It doesn’t happen for every body on the first try. We’ll try again tonight, okay love?”

“What if it never happens for us?” You whispered in fear. Tom took your hands in his and kissed them.

“There are other ways to have a baby.” He insisted. “We can adopt or try some fertility treatments.”

“I should be able to do this. Most women can.” You berated yourself.

“But not all women. We can and we will try again. This is gonna happen for us.” Tom took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and made you look at him. “I’m not leaving until you smile.”

You rolled your eyes but he stayed persistent.

“I’m serious. I’ll sit on this bathroom floor all night.” He said, making you crack a smile.

“That’s better. Now come on.” He held your hand and helped you off the toilet. “This baby won’t make itself.”

A month later, you were having dinner at the Holland’s. Tom organized it to cheer you up, being it was two months since you started trying for a baby, and still no luck. You excused yourself during dinner, feeling a little nauseous all the sudden. When you didn’t come back for a while, Tom began to worry.

“I’m gonna go check on her.” Tom said, beginning to get out of his seat. Paddy held up a hand and got out of his.

“You’re still eating. I’ll go check.” He said, always wanting to come to your aid. He went to the master bedroom and knocked on the bathroom door.

“Y/n? You all right?” He asked.

“I’m fine. I’m just feeling a little hot.” You called. Paddy was about to speak when he heard your phone ringing from the bed.

“Paddy, could you get that for me please?” You called from the bathroom.

“Sure.” He picked up your phone and held it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Holland! Congratulations! You’re pregnant!” A cheery female voice sounded from the other side of the phone. Paddy’s hand clenched around the phone as his body froze in shock.

“WHAT?” He shrieked at a pitch that made Tessa start barking from the other room.

“Is this a child?” The lady on the phone asked.

“Y/n is pregnant? With a baby? A human baby?” He sputtered. He had overheard Tom telling Sam that he was having trouble having a baby and thought it was off the table.

“So this is definitely a child.” The woman said definitively.

“Uh, no.” Paddy cleared his throat and deepened his voice. “This is her husband.”

“No, it’s really not.” The woman sighed. “Could you tell Y/n to call her OBGYN please?”

“Her what?” Paddy didn’t recognize the word.

“Her gynecologist.” The woman tried a different approach.

“That’s even worse.” Paddy said honestly.

“Her gyno. Can you remember that?” The woman said tiredly.

“Yes. I think so.” Paddy nodded, repeated the word to himself to solidify it in his mind.

“Okay, thank you. Tell her to call her gyno immediately.” The woman asked as you came out of the bathroom. Paddy hung up the phone and dropped it on the bed, staring at you blankly as you approached him.

“Thanks, Paddy.” You picked up your phone and put it in your back pocket. “Who was it?”

“You’re pregnant?!” Paddy asked in disbelief, wondering why you never told the family.

“What? No.” You laughed him off and shook your head.

“If you’re not pregnant then why did your gyro just tell me you are?” Paddy asked and you tilted your head.

“My what?” You questioned.

“Your gyro.” He said simply and you stared at him blankly. “The gyrocologist!”

“My gynecologist?” You realized as your face paled.

“Yes! That.” Paddy snapped his fingers and you covered your hand with your mouth. He looked at you quizzically, thinking you already knew about the pregnancy.

“My gynecologist said I was pregnant?” You whispered as a tear slid down your cheek.

“Yes, she just told me.” Paddy said and came to an unfortunate realization. “Oh, you didn’t know, did you?”

“No.” You shook your head and placed a hand on your tummy.

“I ruined the surprise, didn’t I?” Paddy grimaced.

“It’s okay.” You gave him a gentle smile. “Can you go get Tom?”

“Yeah. Right. Tom.” Paddy dashed out of the room and returned shortly with Tom behind him. He quickly left the room to give you privacy.

“What is it, baby?” Tom asked as he entered the room, immediately going to you. “Why are you crying?”

You took his hands and placed them over your tummy. He looked at you curiously before it clicked.

“I just got a call from the gynecologist.” You told him and his eyes lit up.

“And?” He asked hopefully.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” You nodded and he broke into a huge smile.

“What?” He asked as tears filled his eyes.

“We’re gonna have a baby. A human baby.” You cried and he looked at your tummy in disbelief.

Tom, too overcome with emotion to say anything, pulled you into his arms and cried into your hair.

“Thank you so much.” He whispered into ear.

“I really didn’t think it was gonna happen.” You wiped a tear and hugged him tighter.

Paddy, who could hear the conversation from the hallway, smiled to himself. Your happiness gave him happiness, and he was determined to make this baby’s life perfect.

And that began with the pregnancy.

Paddy somewhat returned to his old ways around you. If you needed something, he was the one to get it. Tom didn’t mind the behavior this time around. Preparing for a baby was a lot of work, and an extra set of hands didn’t hurt. Besides, Tom was the one attending the breathing classes, shopping for baby clothes, and making a registry with you. If Paddy wanted to take care of the little things, he could.

And he did.

Paddy always made sure you had enough pillows…

“Baby support.” As he would call it.

…enough snacks…

“Pickles? You need pickles? I read in 13 different parenthood that pregnant women crave pickles. I also didn’t know what kinda of chocolate you wanted so I got it all.” Paddy said as he gentle placed a variety of chocolate bars on your six month pregnant tummy.

“Wow, thanks Pads.” You laughed as you opened a bar.

“Anything for you.” He smiled before his eyes landed on Sam. “Samuel, is that hot sauce?”

“It’s for my burrito.” Sam said awkwardly, mid bite of his burrito.

“Hot sauce is not safe for pregnant women to ingest. Is your burrito more important than my future niece or nephew?” Paddy demanded.

“No?” Sam asked in confusion.

“Take it outside.” Paddy barked.

…and enough attention.

“I read that babies can sense when the mother is lonely. Actually, I saw it in Birdbox. I brought your favorite movie and some pickles. I thought we could watch it together.” Paddy said as he presented you with your favorite film.

“Aw, that sounds great Pads.” Tom said as he entered the room, taking a seat next to his pregnant wife. Paddy, who hadn’t originally planned on including Tom, faked a smile.

“The more then merrier, is what I always say.” Paddy said through his teeth.

“When have you ever said-“ Tom began to question.

“Always.” Paddy snapped and popped the movie in the DVD player.

In nine short months, the day had finally arrived. The Holland family, as well as your family, patiently waited in the waiting room as you went into labor. Paddy, who had passed out when he heard the news of your water breaking, was now sitting glumly in a wiat room chair.

“Mate, come on. Y/n is gonna give birth any minute. Mum and dad are already in there.” Harry urged Paddy to get out of the waiting room chair.

“I’m not going in there.” Paddy grumbled.

“Are you crying?” Sam realized when he saw his brothers cheeks glistening.

“No.” Paddy sniffled as he wiped his cheek.

“Yes you are. Why?” Harry said as he took a seat.

“Because I’ve spent my entire life loving a girl who is about to have a baby with my brother.” Paddy protested, making Sam and Harry exchange a look.

“I thought you were over this.” Sam sighed.

“I thought so too!” Paddy snapped. “But Tom and I fighting over her has always been a staple of our family and now he has his own family. He’s not gonna come around anymore.” His voice got quieter and Harry and Sam understood what this was about. They knelt down on either side of of his chair and looked at him.

“Of course he’ll still come around.” Harry promised.

“Why would he? Why would he need his baby brother when he has a baby of his own?” Paddy said sadly. “He’s gonna start a new family with his new baby and he won’t need us.”

“He’s always gonna need us, Pads. I honestly don’t think he knows what detergent is.” Hardy cracked a smile and Paddy halted at him.

“This isn’t a joke, Harry.” He said bitterly.

“I know it’s not. But this baby isn’t replacing our family. It’s expanding it.” Harry reasoned. “We’re all gonna have to come together to make sure this baby is the happiest baby in the U.K. That’s gonna make our family closer than ever.”

“And you’re always gonna be our baby brother. But now you have a new title.” Sam added.

“What?” Paddy asked curiously.

“Baby uncle.” Sam said, making a face when he heard how dumb it sounded.

“Bunkle, if you will.” Harry nodded.

“I absolutely will not!” Paddy snapped.

“Then just uncle will do. And being an uncle comes with a lot of responsibility. It’s our job to corrupt that baby and make Tom look like a total nerd.” Sam jeered.

“He might have that part covered.” Hardy reminded them.

“What if I’m a bad uncle?” Paddy feared.

“None of us have done this before. We’re all gonna be figuring it out together. And if you mess up, just blame one of us.” Sam told him.

“Yeah. Just blame Sam.” Harry added and Sam gave him a look.

“No matter what, we have each other to fall back on. This baby is a great thing, Paddy. Just wait and see.” Sam smiled at his younger brother. Paddy nodded, finally smiling back. A nurse in pink scrubs coming into the waiting room caught their attention.

“Paddy Holland?” The nurse asked.

“Yes?” Paddy stood up from his chair.

“Y/n would like to see you.” The nurse smiled kindly.

“Coming.” Paddy told her before turning back to his brothers. “What’s that about?”

“Maybe she finally realized she wants to be with you over Tom.” Harry shrugged.

“Shut up. Really? No she didn’t. Do you think though? She wouldn’t. Right?” Paddy went through a range of emotions and his brothers laughed.

“Just go.” Sam pushed him forward. Paddy nodded and followed the nurse down the hall. She opened the door to a room and let Paddy go inside.

Once inside the room, Paddy saw you laying in bed with Tom right beside you. Something inside him told him to be quiet, so he stood patiently at the door without saying a word. The opening of the door alerted you to his presence and you waved him over.

“Hey, Paddy.” You said softly as Paddy approached your bed. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

As Paddy knelt beside the bed, you moved your arms to reveal a sleeping baby wrapped in a pink blanket.

“We wanted you to be the first to meet her.” Tom smiled proudly at his brother. Paddy stared at the baby in childlike wonder and you bounced her gently.

“Paddy, this is Beth Patrica Holland.” You told him.

“Patricia?” Paddy looked you at you expectingly.

“Yeah. After my favorite brother.” Tom smiled at his brother, then held a finger to his lips, signaling him not to tell Sam or Harry.

“She’s beautiful.” Paddy breathed as he saw mini versions of your features in the newborns face. “She looks just like you.”

“You think so? I think she looks more like Tom.” You laughed softly as you nuzzled your nose to Beth’s head.

“No, no.” Paddy shook his head. “Like I said, she’s beautiful.”

Before Tom could respond, Beth coughed and her eyelids fluttered open. Paddy stared into her eyes, seemingly void of color but a mixture of every color all at once. He smiled at Beth, and smiled back.

“She smiled at me!” He tried to keep his voice down, but the excitement got to him.

“That means she just used her diaper. Tommy, could you?” You held the baby up and Tom happily took her in his arms.

“Of course. Come here, Princess.” He cooed to his daughter as he walked to the changing table. Paddy finally took a good look at you. You were sweaty and makeup free, forehead still glistening. Your hair was pushed back and your cheeks had a dewy pinkness to them that Paddy had never seen before.

“You look beautiful too.” He said sincerely and you chuckled.

“I look like a just pushed a human out of me.” You shook your head.

“Exactly.” He said. “That’s a beautiful thing to do.”

You looked at him fondly and gave him a soft smile.

“You know, it was my idea to make her middle name Patricia.” You told him.

“Really?” He asked.

“Yeah. I had to name her after my boy.” You cupped his face and he beamed at you. Maybe he didn’t end up with you like he wanted, but he was still your boy. You had just confirmed it.

“I’m gonna take care of her.” Paddy looked over at Beth with determination. “I promise.”

“I know you will.” You said and pulled him into a hug.

Over at the changing table, Tom sang quietly to Beth as he changed her diaper.

“Just a few more hours and I’ll be right home to you. I think I hear them calling. Oh Beth, what can I do? Beth, what can I do?” He sang and she squeezed his finger, making him well up with tears. He picked her up and held her against his chest, letting her warm up after being on the cold table. He continued singing softly in her ear as stroked her tuft of hair.

“Hurry up, Tom.” Paddy called quietly from the bed, dying to see Beth again. “I want to see my girl.”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @delicately-important-trash @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23 @spacebitch2 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @wendaiii @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @thegr8kush @dnsa-parker @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @probablyparker @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @fandom-imagines1 @loxbbg

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x you #tom holland x yn #tom holland fluff #dad!tom holland x reader #dad!tom holland #paddy holland #harry holland x reader #sam holland #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker x reader #marvel #spiderman #spiderman far from home #tom holland x pregnant!reader

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

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Lily (from "Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus", what else?) and Lenin and maybe some other people? Watch "Heathers". Reactions? Or what they get transported there? Sorry, it's just that I'm in this Heathers-obsession phase and since I love your work so much (and the fact that Trotsky is kinda sorta like JD) I've been wondering about a crossover like that. I honestly have no idea what your answer to this will entail.

I’ve been musing on this one for a bit now but I suppose it’s time to dig in and answer.

First, I’m not usually a fan of the “X characters watch Y thing” so we’re going to avoid that. Also, to Wizard Lenin, it’d undoubtedly be yet another one of Lily’s weird 80′s movies that she loves so much and forces him to watch. It’s less gory than Predator, but dammit Lily, high school isn’t like this!

Getting transported there is a similarly weird story. It’s such a muggle setting that it really doesn’t mesh well with the “Sisyphus” cast. Why would Lily and Wizard Lenin be stuck in this high school in Ohio? Would they even do anything besides go “That JD kid sure is weird” and “Wow, the death count here is higher than Hogwarts!”? Point being, I can’t imagine they’d get entangled in the true plot of “Heathers” and at best would be providing riff track commentary on this crazy high school.

So, instead, let’s go the good old fusion route. Let’s make the world of “Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus” just a bit more like “Heathers” and see how it pans out.

Because “Heathers” is all about the destruction of society from within, we’re axing Voldemort. Sorry, Tom, you got stuck in a magical mirror, eaten by bears, or something after 1943 and are going to be Sir Not Appearing in this Universe. As a result, there’s no Voldemort, but the deep societal issues that Tom took advantage of very much remain and are flourishing.

In this world, Lily is still a god, but is not immediately recognized as such by being the girl who lived. Instead, she’s just a strange, dangerously overpowered, nuisance that nobody likes. And her home life is trash.

I imagine in the world without Voldemort, Death Eaters, and a second war Lily and James’ marriage quickly crumbles. This is mainly due to the stress of marriage but also due to having a gifted, ridiculously intelligent, and creepy child. Within a few years, Lily Evans has the audacity to do what is never done: she divorces her pureblood lord husband and tries to vie for child custody. She loses, of course, as she’s a muggle born woman, and is basically banished from ever seeing her kid again.

James never really gets over this, Ellie looking so much like Lily Evans certainly not helping matters, and over the years grows very cold to her. She’s not a son so is useless to inherit, she’s nothing like him, and she’s just an all around disappointment. James very quickly gets remarried for political purposes, marrying a far less scandelous pureblood witch from pick your prestigious family, and they have a son meaning that Lily is no longer heir.

Lily thus attends Hogwarts as essentially the half-blood Potter. She’s for all intents and purposes a bastard child, one barely acknowledged by her father, and is also weird. As a result I imagine she’s bullied relentlessly much in the manner Luna is. For years.

I imagine Luna Lovegood is her only friend, as the pair have bonded over constantly having their stuff destroyed and being locked out of their dormitories.

Enter Lily’s seventh year and thus the plot.

The outside world is looming and Lily effectively has no future. Despite being the daughter of Lord Potter, she’s in a similar position that Tom Riddle was. She won’t be hired into the Ministry or basically any position thanks to her dubious heritage as well as the fact that no one likes her.

Mostly, she just wants out. She wants out of the country where everyone knows exactly who she is and where she came from. Her best hope for this is employment with the goblins but she needs recommendations from a professor. Her best bet is Slughorn, but while he’s always been awed of her ability after seven years of Lily the charm has worn off. Lily has never received an invitation to the Slug Club.

Lily realizes that to get out she must become popular so someone can vouch for her to Slughorn. Not to mention her life might become slightly, slightly, less miserable. So, Lily approaches the Heathers. Much like in the film/musical, Lily offers her services to them for the fee of making nice, pretending to like her, and getting her an in with Slughorn.

This spirals out of control as the Heathers instead do the makeover and make Lily suddenly cool. She’s suddenly invited to parties, people talk to her, it’s a whole new world.

Around this time, Lily in the room of requirement happens to stumble across the diary (nevermind how he gets there, we’ll pretend Tom just never managed to smuggle him out of the castle). Tom has been trapped in there, dying, and Lily obliviously informs him that all his ambitions and sacrifices amounted to nothing. There was no dark lord after Grindelwald, she’s never heard of a Tom Riddle, and everything she describes makes it sound like nothing has changed.

Tom Riddle inexplicably vanished off the face of the earth leaving only the diary behind.

Naturally, Tom is very pissed about this, and sets about plotting how he can return, trying to get Lily to open up by asking her for help returning him to his body. Lily does him one better and just returns him to his body without any sacrifice, casually remarking that she’s always been like this as long as she can remember, fully accepting Tom to yell “SHE’S A WITCH! BURN HER!” to her face as everyone else does.

Tom, however, is floored and everything he’s ever known to be true is thrown out the window. He decides to make Lily his new pet project.

Unfortunately for him, by this point Lily has a Slug Club to attend, only it goes horribly wrong. The Heathers have purposefully set about humiliating Luna, Lily’s only friend, and Lily has to very publicly break ties with them even though it means sacrificing her only real chance of leaving the country with gainful employment. Worse, the Heathers promise wrath the likes of which Lily has never seen before.

Lily, devastated and despairing, goes back to Tom and confesses all the shitiness of her extremely shitty life and how she doesn’t even know what the Heathers will do to her now. Tom finds this a little odd, as Lily has quickly proven herself the most powerful person on the planet, but he’s willing to play along. More to the point, Lily and Tom’s relationship goes from 0 to 100 as he is not only the first guy to show interest in her but he’s very very interested and very very hot. When Lily decides to beg Alpha Heather for forgiveness, Tom notes that he’ll come with, he’s better with people than she is.

Tom, having hit a low point of nihilist rage thanks to Voldemort having amounted to nothing, poisons Alpha Heather and dutifully covers for Lily by writing her suicide note. This works. There is an ecstasy of joyous grief throughout the school as staff and students alike confess how they never knew the true Heather. Lily is astounded, Tom is ecstatic.

Lily tries to return to life as normal, goes back to hanging out with Luna, but also has to introduce Tom to the school. Tom suggests she mind wipes everyone, that makes Lily uncomfortable, so she instead confesses what she believes is the truth in that Tom was trapped in an enchanted object. Dumbledore nearly has a stroke, but since Tom Riddle never became Voldemort, it’s more that this is a solution to an unsolved mystery and the castle is glad Tom isn’t actually dead. They’d thought he got hit by one of those muggle bombs during WWIII or whatever it was the muggles had going on.

HA HA HA HA, but no, Tom says in response.

In the meantime Tom gets to witness Lily’s weird and strained relationship with her father, his friends, and her younger half-brother. Tom points out that Lily seeking out gainful employment is unnecessary. Lily doesn’t have to be a part of society, like all these worthless people around her, she’s so powerful that she can do whatever she likes however she likes it. She can simply leave the country, she could become a dark lord even, there’s nothing stopping her. Lily’s never thought of it like that before, to become a true part of society, to be accepted on some level by that society, has always just seemed like the obvious path to her. What else would she do?

Due to this, Lily and Tom’s relationship continues to grow as they’re really the first people to see each other as they are. Naturally, this is when shit hits the fan. Thanks to Tom, Lily’s invited to another Slug Club with him (Tom can still become minister even if he was trapped in a book for fifty years! Slughorn says). Lily gets hit on and nearly sexually assaulted by some of the boys there, Lily gets out, but the next day rumor circulates around the school that Lily was in a threesome with them.

Tom Riddle sets up a ridiculous scheme in which he fakes their murder suicide where they confess to being homosexual. Lily is increasingly horrified. The school, once again, is in an ecstasy of joyful grief over the loss of these two, beautiful, oppressed, gay souls. Lily realizes that Tom is A Bad Dude (TM) and tries to confront him. He easily confesses he cares nothing about these people and has decided he wants to watch society burn. These are the people who thought he had died in the Blitz and did nothing. They are people who cannot and will not change. They’re the absentee fathers who dote on far less powerful, pureblood, sons. Tom has officially, completely, given up on the wizarding world and now he will destroy it as quickly and horrifically as he can. Lily, not belonging to society, can pour the kerosene on with him.

This is getting a little too gnarly for Lily and she dumps Tom.

Unfortunately, he quickly becomes exceedingly popular thanks to his angelic face, his natural charm and charisma, and his understanding of people. He passes around a petition for suicide and bullying awareness that everybody and their brother signs. What they’re really signing is pages from the diary which, much like Death Note, promises him both their magic and their life force.

Tom confronts Lily and admits he’s going to murder everybody, an entire generation of wizards and witches gone in an instant, AND LILY CAN BE HIS DARK QUEEN! Lily and Tom get into a fight, Tom accidentally murders the shit out of her and is devestated, only of course for Lily to wake up later after he’s left because she was unwittingly immortal this whole time.

Rising from the dead, Lily hunts Tom down before he can blow up the school, and sucks him back into the diary. Upon graduation Lily makes up with Luna, still has no prospects and plans to go and be homeless in India, has hesitantly gotten in contact with Lily Evans, basically has no contact left with her father, and has a boyfriend diary named Tom who might be let out in fifty years if he promises not to blow up a school.

#ask #anon #lily and the art of being sisyphus #heathers

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soldouthaz · 4 years

Note

Do you have any recent fic recs? 🥺 I just finished reading Baby Blue and now I don’t know what to read next. (It was amazing by the way).

hii!!! I'm so happy you liked baby blue! thank you so much for reading and for reaching out! :)))

I don’t have any specifics on what you like to read, so I'm just going to give you a bit of everything - I hope that’s alright! if you want more you always know where to find me ;)

recently read fics (July 2020) -

✰ sleeping on our problems (E, 67k, bL) by @risthebrave / falsegoodnight

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

✰ tell it like an old song (E, 26k, bL) by @outropeace

where Harry is a bit lost (just like his memories), his best friend is hiding something, the love of his life is gone and love... love is like flowers.

✰ soaked in the blood of angels (E, 40k, bL) by @crazyupsetter / whoknows

The boy looks drugged, caught between a man who’s almost twice his size and a girl who looks like she wouldn’t even break a sweat snapping him in half despite her small stature, eyes closed and mouth open as he pants, arching up between them almost as if he’s trying to escape.

Normally, Harry would ignore it and continue on his search for someone to drink from, someone who wouldn’t mind his sharp teeth and rough hands. He’s seen plenty of boys like this one, ones who picked the wrong playmates, and if he stopped to rescue every single one of them he would have died from thirst a long time ago.

This one, though. There’s something about this one, the sheen of his bright blue eyes as he blinks slowly, looks around as though he doesn’t know where he is, the weakness of his hands as he tries to push the girl off of him and make his escape.

✰ like the earth around the sun (E, 23k, bL) by astrangepurplefairy

the one where Harry bursts in on Louis in heat and things only get more complicated from there.

(*personal note* if anyone happens to know if this author has a Tumblr please let me know!)

✰ we both got nothing to hide (E, 43k, bL) by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

✰ move so pretty (you’re all I see) (E, 10k, bL) by @risthebrave / falsegoodnight

Harry’s pretty content with his life. He loves his job- a veterinarian at a local clinic who’s already built up a name for himself despite his young age. He loves his gorgeous flat with its wide, open space and minimalistic, yet still homey feel. He loves his family who he talks to and visits as much as possible, not bothered by the long hours of driving to Holmes Chapel from London he endures multiple times a month. He loves his friends and his coworkers and his neighbors- especially Allison, the little old lady next door who brings him and Louis cookies on holidays and who always comments on how “strong and handsome you are, Mr. Styles,” everytime he sees her.

And most importantly, he loves Louis, just- maybe in a slightly different way.

✰ maybe, baby (M, 16k, omega!L) by @thoughtsickles

Louis runs away. Harry finds him.

✰ when tomorrow comes (E, 11k, bL) by @jacaranda-bloom

the one where Louis is an Omega who has been keeping himself pure for his Alpha, Harry is a traditional Alpha focusing on his studies while he waits to find his bondmate, and Niall is a sneaky bastard who keeps borrowing Louis’ clothes and never returning them.

✰ in a world alone (E, 50k, bL) by @risthebrave / falsegoodnight

Harry’s breath catches as the glow grows bigger and bigger until he’s squinting his eyes and blinking at the sudden intense brightness. He closes his eyes, rubbing at them helplessly. When his eyes open again- he gasps, grip loosening on his bow as he gawks at the sight before him.

Because the swan is gone.

And in its place is the prettiest omega Harry has ever seen.

A Swan Lake AU

re-reads -

✰ like a siren in the night (E, 24k, bL) by @crazyupsetter / whoknows

“There is an infestation in my home,” Louis hisses, righting himself quickly and pushing his way past Harry, heading directly for the kitchen. He’s rather haphazardly dressed himself, a coat thrown on over a loose flannel shirt and black pants, slippers on his feet.

Harry resists the urge to sigh, closing the door and trailing behind him slowly. “What kind of infestation?”

For all he knows, Louis is going to claim that there’s a ghost infestation. Harry has no idea what the end game is here – all he knows is that Louis has found at least three complaints a week to bring up since he’s been living on Harry’s property, and he’s been living here for six months.

It’s way too many fucking complaints, is what Harry is saying. Especially when most of them are ridiculous to start with.

✰ ours are the moments I play in the dark (E, 20k, bL) by @holdingthornsandroses / edensrose

Jane Austen's Persuasion AU. Nine years ago Louis Tomlinson was persuaded to break off his engagement to Harry Styles, a poor sailor. Since then Louis has come to regret being so easily convinced to give up his one chance of happiness. Now Louis' family is in debt and his childhood home is being sold. In a complete reversal of fortune, Harry has returned to England a wealthy bachelor looking to settle down. Events conspire to bring them together once more though Louis is- must surely be- the last man on earth that Captain Styles would think of now.

✰ pretty please (with sugar on top) (E, 113k, bH) by @angelichl

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

✰ dance like warriors on a battlefield (E, 20k, bL) by @crazyupsetter / whoknows

Down in the arena, the triumphant gladiator places his foot on the back of the loser, holding him there as he waits for instruction on his next move. Kill or let live. It’s barbaric, really, the bloodlust involved in this sport. Louis is pretty sure that if it wasn’t for his distaste for the killing there would be a lot more blood soaking that sand.

As it is, his father rarely gives the kill order anymore. He gives the order to let the loser live. Louis rolls his eyes, turning away. He doesn’t miss the way the gladiator’s eyes linger on him.

fics on my list to read soon -

✰ until (E, 38k, bL) by @allwaswell16

Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.

(*personal note*- I'd put off reading this until I finished my own cowboy fic so that I wouldn’t subconsciously copy anything but I’m so so excited about this one!)

✰ smells like omega spirit (NR, 11k, omega!Louis) by @lululawrence

Louis is an omega doing a test run on neutralizers for a class project. Every time he talks to Harry he smells completely different.

Harry is an alpha who can't figure out if he's going crazy or his sense of smell is broken, but all he wants to figure out what Louis' real scent is.

Somehow they figure it out.

✰ ever since I tried your way (E, 25k, bH) by anonymous

In 1949 Harry left his bride at the altar, running away from the only life he'd known. When a kindhearted farmer offers him a ride in his truck and a place to sleep the two find themselves inexplicably drawn together. Isolated on Louis' farm with nobody but a field of dairy cows to intrude, the men are finally able to explore the parts of themselves they've spent their lives hiding away.

✰ was in no hurry, had no worries (E, 21k, bL) by @larrywmi / defencelouis

The year is 1999 and Harry can’t stop dedicating songs to Louis on the radio. Or the one where Harry hits Louis with his car.

✰ the murmur of yearning (E, 93k) by @mediawhorefics

Four years ago, Harry Styles was forced into a marriage of convenience to enrich and ally both his and his promised's families. The sudden, and slightly suspicious, death of the Marquess of Haxshire, however, brings great disturbance to Crescentfield Hall and, as his late's husband's closest male relative, Harry unexpectedly finds himself the head of a family he never felt he belonged to. Between a meddling distant cousin hellbent on inserting himself in Harry’s life, his wicked and mistrustful mother-in-law and his late husband’s advisors refusing to help or take him seriously, Harry struggles in the fight to keep what he’s earned and make the Estate finally feel like home.

Luckily, he doesn’t stand completely alone and finds himself an unlikely ally in Mr Tomlinson, the elusive Land Stewart who has been taking care of the property in the shadows for years. Louis Tomlinson is caring, patient, and unlike everyone else, he doesn’t seem to think Harry committed a murder.

as always, please let me know if I tagged anything incorrectly etc. and I hope this helps you a bit!! I hope you’re well and happy reading! :)

#fic recs

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thepandamightwrite · 4 years

Text

Jessa Wedding

Word count: 1.7k (this turned out a lot longer than I expected)

Fluff or Angst

Stuff to know: A suggen is the person that escorts a shadowhunter to their fiance during the wedding. More info here (You have to scroll down to the wedding part)

Anyway, hope y’all enjoy this cause it was super fun to write! 💕

“Is this really necessary?” asked Jem. “Oh yes, absolutely,” responded Magnus. He was really taking the wedding seriously, as were all the other Shadowhunters. Alec, Jace, Simon, Julien and Emma had accompanied him to the shop where they were getting Jem’s gear specially tailored. He felt it was highly excessive of course, he didn’t really care what he wore as long as he actually got to marry Tessa this time. However, Magnus adamantly refused to listen to any protests and took it upon himself to manage Jem’s wardrobe. “Have you decided who’s gonna be your Suggen for the wedding?” asked Emma. She was incredibly excited for the celebration, and she had nominated herself as the chief wedding planner, a job she took quite seriously. “Ummm what’s a Suggen,” inquired Simon, who wasn’t quite familiar with Shadowhunter weddings yet. “The person that escorts the bride or groom down the aisle, which is a huge honor,” responded Jace, sounding like he was reciting from the Codex. “So, what are you going to do,” asked Alec. Unfortunately, Jem didn’t have an answer for him, after all, the only person he would want to escort him to Tessa had died years ago. A few months ago, he would never have even imagined that he’d be able to get married, and if it ever did happen, he would want Will to be there. Sadly, that was unlikely to happen, so Jem had to pick someone else. Unfortunately, there weren’t many people that he was close with that were still alive. There was Magnus, Emma, and perhaps Jace, although none of them seemed right. “Voila,” Magnus exclaimed. The group gathered and nodded approvingly at the outfit. Even Jem managed a grin through his increasing worry.

“Achooo,” exclaimed Isabelle as the werewolf escorting the tulips out passed her by. “Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry about this,” apologized Tessa, as she had been all afternoon. She had entrusted Ragnor to arrange for some nice flowers, and of course he’d picked the one kind Isabelle was severely allergic to. “Oh don’t worry about it Tessa,” she responded breezily, although her nose was red and her eyes watery due to the constant sneezing. “I’m just excited you’re getting married to Jem, for real this time,” Isabelle squealed before a bout of sneezes overtook her. “Yeah,” chimed Clary, who was festooning the trees with lights. Tessa still couldn’t believe that she was getting married, again, next week. It was almost like a dream, she thought people only got to be with the love of their life once, if they were lucky. She, on the other hand, was able to marry them both. Her heart suddenly ached for her first husband, Will, whom she missed dearly. She had shared everything with him, when he was alive, and she couldn’t have imagined it any other way. It felt wrong somehow, that her wedding with Jem, something she knew Will would be thrilled about, was the one thing she would never tell him. “Tessa!” called Isabelle. “You’ve picked your Suggen, right?” “No, I actually haven’t,” she responded, slightly fatigued with the whole business. “What?! The wedding is tomorrow! You have to decide soon!” exclaimed Clary from the other end of the garden. “Yes, I know, I know,” Tessa sighed. “It’s just that a Suggen has to be someone that is incredibly special to you, and the only person I can think of is no longer alive.” Both the girls looked over at Tessa with sad eyes. “I’m sure Will knows you’re getting married, wherever he is, and he’s going to be ecstatic about it, don’t worry,” consoled Clary. “Yes, you’re right,” Tessa conceded. “I’ll just have to come up with someone else, maybe Magnus….”

Clary, Isabelle, Emma, Jace, Alec and Magnus huddled behind a tree, trying to desperately shield the pentagram from passerby. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” sighed Alec. “Dude, face it, this isn’t even close to the craziest thing we’ve done, am I right?” retorted Jace. “That’s true,” acknowledged Clary with the soft smile she reserved just for her boyfriend. “However, we haven’t exactly tried to bring back the dead.” “We’re not bringing back the dead, just conjuring a ghost. They’re not the same thing,” clarified Magnus, looking up from the spellbook briefly. “Alright, it’s showtime,” he said with a wicked grin.”

Jem couldn’t get his jacket on for some reason. His hands were shaking like butterflies and he lost all his usual dexterity that he’d developed over years of violin playing. “Let me help you with that fy nghariad,” offered a familiar voice. Jem whirled around at the sound of the person he hadn’t heard in a hundred years. He leaned against the doorframe, his mused ink-black hair falling into those familiar piercing blue eyes. “Will,” Jem whispered in disbelief. “How are you even here?” He asked, still unable to comprehend what he saw before him. “Magnus summoned me from the afterlife, yanked me out of an argument with Gabriel too. It was a good one actually, I was definitely winning it, you see-” Will was cut off by Jem running up and swallowing him in the most consuming hug he’d ever been given. They both murmured senseless words of reassurance to each other in hopes of processing the strangeness of it all. They whispered of the day Will won the bet that bound them as parabatai. They hummed of the day they defeated Mortmain. They mumbled of James, Lucie, Charlotte, Henry, Gabriel, Gideon, Sophie and Cecily. They whispered of their friendship and the love that extended through death. And most of all, they muttered of Tessa and the all consuming feelings they both shared for her. And- “ACK!” Will shrieked followed by a string of Welsh curses that would make any sailor whistle with appreciation. He glared down at Church who looked up at Will, his eyes flashing with recognition and mischief. Jem couldn’t help but giggle as he realized the best solution to his and Tessa’s Suggon dilemma.

Tessa stared at her reflection in her mirror. It was her wedding day. She really ought to be more excited, but she couldn’t help but miss the gaze of a certain pair of blue eyes. And then, as if she had summoned him with her thoughts alone, a familiar figure appeared next to her reflection. “Tessa, fy nghariad, oh how I’ve missed you.” She gasped, unable to believe her eyes and ears at the person standing behind her. “Will, how on earth did you get here?” “Well, the door was unlocked so I turned the handle and stepped inside, I’m sure you’re aware of how the mechanism works,” he retorted with his trademark sarcastic drawl. Tessa let out a sob and flung herself into his translucent arms, which were still somehow solid and familiar against her. His hands absentmindedly stroked her back as he murmured,“Tess, my Tessa, you know I’d never miss you and Jem’s wedding for the world for not even death can keep us apart.” Tessa gasped in shock. “Oh no! The wedding! It’s starting now! But I haven’t even picked a Suggen!” Tessa exclaimed in a panic. “What are you talking about my dear, I’m right here,” said Will with a crooked grin.

“Where are they? Jem and Tessa should’ve been here 20 minutes ago,” said Simon, his voice jittery with nerves and his eyes glancing around furtively. “I’m not sure. It’s not like them to be late to anything, much less their own wedding,” mused Isabelle. Out of the group, only Magnus seemed to be at ease, laughing at something Ragnor was saying. Suddenly, Jem appeared and started walking towards the altar. Jace observed with a curious look on his face, after all, no one appeared to be escorting Jem. As he neared their seats however, they noticed the Suggen at his feet. “Church?!?!” Emma sputtered in disbelief. Jem turned and looked at them with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Why yes, he’s one of my closest companions and we’ve been through thick and thin together, so why not?” Jace, Clary, and Isabelle started giggling uncontrollably and soon everyone was joining in. However, Alec was staring incredulously at Jem and soon asked, “What about the ghost we summoned?!?!” Jem looked over his shoulder and grinned. “You’ll see.”

Tessa looked over at Will and was reassured to find his eyes as bright and supportive as they had been when he was alive. He squeezed her hand tightly and they started walking towards her fiance. It was almost poetic really, her deceased husband guiding her toward his parabatai, the only other person whom he trusted to love Tessa. As she walked towards him, Jem ran his eyes over her adoringly and she saw the look of recognition in his eyes when he took in her dress. After all, it was almost identical to the one she’d worn when they slayed Benedict Lightwood, which was her original wedding gown. It felt like time slowed down as she and Will floated towards the person that completed their love triangle (and the cat they hated) and out of the 3 of them, there wasn’t a dry eye in sight. When Tessa went to stand next to Jem, she noticed the strange markings on his gear jacket. Since neither of them were full shadowhunters, they had to adapt the wedding traditions to suit their needs. In his case, what would normally be golden runes on his jacket became motifs of the clockwork angel that had protected her so many centuries ago. “Because I too will never let any harm come to you,” murmured Jem when he noticed Tessa’s expression.

After reciting their elegant vows that they’d carefully crafted for the occasion, Jem and Tessa finally exchanged rings and kissed, sealing their marriage forever. Will stood smiling off to the side, next to his archnemesis, Church, who was scowling disapprovingly at him. He was absolutely ecstatic, after all, here were two of the most important people in his life committing to a life of joy and togetherness. Although he wasn’t a particularly sentimental person, Will’s vision was warped and swimming through a lens of joyous tears. At last, the ceremony was over and everyone was dancing slowly to the lulling piano music fondly extracted from the delicate instrument by a very handsome blond man. He must be a Herondale, Will thought. After all, that self assured attitude and the love in his eyes when he saw a particularly striking red headed lady could only come from somewhere. Suddenly, two familiar hands clasped at each of his shoulders. Will turned, looked at the loves of his life who looked as content as he’d ever seen them. Wordlessly, they all clasped hands and headed off to be alone.

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joachimnapoleon · 4 years

Text

Meet the Bonapartes--Louis (2/4)

(Part 1 can be found here) (And here are links to Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 on Pauline)

***

Napoleon's plan to marry Louis to Hortense was met with a marked lack of enthusiasm by both parties. Aside from having acquired a jaded view of women (possibly as a result of the affliction he suffered in Italy), Louis also happened to be in love with someone else. Prior to the wedding, he would write a twenty-page letter to Hortense containing what was essentially his life story, and in which he confessed his love for a woman named Sophie, describing her, and his feelings for her, in great detail. Hortense, meanwhile, had acquired a negative view of Louis, because of his behavior in an earlier failed love affair between him and one of her cousins. However, Hortense claims, she was willing to give Louis the benefit of the doubt, and dismiss "his conduct toward my cousin" as "merely thoughtlessness on his part." Her former mentor, Madame Campan, visited Hortense to speak in Louis's favor. Hortense was not entirely convinced. "Louis seems to me to be kindhearted and good," she conceded to Mme Campan, "but I do not like the disdain with which he pretends to look upon women and which often appears in his conversation."

[Hortense de Beauharnais]

But Napoleon was adamant about the match, seeing in it a strengthening not only of the ties between the Bonaparte and Beauharnais families, but also as a safeguard for a potential Bonaparte dynasty. "We may never have children," Napoleon told Josephine (according to Hortense's memoirs). "I brought Louis up myself; I look on him as a son. Your daughter is what you cherish most on earth. Their children shall be our children. We will adopt them, and this adoption will console us for not having any of our own." But Josephine, who had initially favored the idea, grew increasingly ill at ease over the marriage as the wedding approached. Hortense also claims that Louis's older brother Lucien poisoned Louis's mind against her, after his own request to marry her was shot down by Napoleon. "I do not know what he said," Hortense writes, "but Louis became uneasy." It was then that Louis wrote his twenty-page letter to her and "begged me in return to describe my past life to him in full. It would have been difficult for me to give him any striking facts on the subject and, when I returned his letter, in accordance with his request, I merely replied that for a long time my life had been known to him."

"If your popularity and society have not spoiled you," Louis replied, "you must be an angel. There can be no middle ground. You must be all good or all bad." Hortense took this as a compliment. "I could not suppose that, admitting the existence of the two alternatives, his opinion could be otherwise than favorable."

The marriage contract was signed on 3 January 1802 at the Tuilleries. Napoleon provided Hortense with a dowry of 250,000 francs, to which Josephine added another 100,000. The civil service took place the next day, and the nuptial blessings were held afterwards. After Cardinal Caprara had blessed the newlyweds, Joachim and Caroline Murat came forward, and requested to receive a nuptial blessing as well, as their marriage had taken place before the religious ceremony was reinstated. "This double ceremony left a disagreeable impression on me," writes Hortense. "The other couple were so happy. They were so much in love with one another.... I felt as though all the happiness lay on one side, all the unhappiness on the other."

The "honeymoon" period was almost nonexistent. Napoleon had flown into a rage at Louis over complaints Louis had made about the marriage not being announced publicly. The personalities of Louis and Hortense never quite managed to synchronize on any level. Louis found fault with Hortense over the most trivial things, and Hortense could barely disguise her increasing dislike for her husband--or the fear his unstable, unpredictable behavior had begun to instill in her.

My nerves gave way. Only tears brought relief. My husband, touched and affected by the sight of my grief, sought to console me, but the harm had been done. My only sentiment towards Louis became one of fear. I dared no longer smile or speak in his presence. It always seemed to me he was on the point of losing his temper.

Nevertheless, the couple's first child--Napoleon Charles Bonaparte--was born the 2nd of October, 1802. Another son, Napoleon-Louis Bonaparte, followed two Octobers later. The Pope himself officiated the ostentatious baptismal ceremony at Saint Cloud.

[Napoleon Charles Bonaparte, first child of Louis & Hortense]

Napoleon continued to show favor to Louis; but Louis occasionally had a different view of these "favors" than his older brother. He saw Napoleon's appointment of him as governor of the "Department beyond the Alps," which would have required his relocation to Turin, as a form of exile, and refused to leave for this new station until after Napoleon's coronation as King of Italy. When the time came, he pleaded ill health and did not accompany Napoleon to Milan for the ceremony. Suffering from acute rheumatism, he had temporarily lost the use of his right hand. By this point he was something of a hypochondriac, and often imagined his illnesses to be far worse than they actually were. His doctors recommended mud baths in St. Amand. Napoleon, still clinging to the idea of making a soldier of Louis, gave his brother command of a reserve corps in the Army of England which would enable him to set up his headquarters close to St. Amand to take the suggested cure. He departed with Hortense and their two children. The mud baths seemed to improve his health.

During the 1805 campaign, Louis remained in Paris as Grand Constable. To everyone's surprise, after his initial reluctance to take over the role of military governor, he displayed remarkable energy. He was not yet aware that Napoleon was in the early stages of preparing him a throne. But rumors soon spread that the Prussians were planning to invade France via the Netherlands. Napoleon ordered Louis to form the Army of the North, to defend the northern departments, as well as Antwerp and the Batavian territories. Louis arrived in Antwerp the day before the battle of Austerlitz; in spite of the war coming to a rapid end, he received orders from Napoleon, via Marshal Berthier, to stay put in Holland. He was also instructed to make sure the Dutch covered "all the pay and supplies of the Army of the North; it must also buy and supply you with all the artillery and transport horses you may need... the Army of the North is not to cost the Emperor anything."

Despite Napoleon's orders, Louis handed over command of his new army and headed back to France upon learning of the peace of Pressburg. Napoleon was not pleased by the unexpected meeting with his brother in Strasbourg. The Emperor finally confided to Louis his intentions of forming a kingdom in Holland, but did not yet go so far as to say that he intended Louis to rule it.

But Napoleon could see only two viable options for Holland: it must either be annexed to the Empire directly, or preserve its independence by accepting an imperial prince--Louis--as its king. The Dutch government were reluctant to forfeit their republic, but recognized that resistance to Napoleon was futile. They assented to the rule of Louis, with the understanding that no French officials would be appointed except in the king's personal household (Louis would break this promise soon enough), that freedom of worship would be maintained, and the current system of Dutch law left in place. Once these points were arranged, Louis was informed by Napoleon that he was to be King of Holland. Louis himself had little choice in the matter.

Louis was initially reluctant to take the throne, but soon warmed to the perceived advantages of being out of his domineering brother's direct grasp. Hortense, meanwhile, dreaded the idea, as well as the visible change in Louis's demeanor.

I admit that my husband's calm manner surprised me. I did not believe he was ambitious, yet I recognized that he was well pleased with what had occurred. Until then every change had been a source of annoyance to him. But now he enjoyed the idea of becoming his own master and, what was more, becoming my master at the same time. No longer would any social decorum, any sense of obligation restrain him from exercising his rights over me. Freed from the proximity of his brother he had no longer any cause to fear him.... For a moment I had the idea of flinging myself at the Emperor's feet, revealing all the torments I suffered with my husband, and begging permission not to be obliged to follow him into a foreign country where nothing would restrain those traits in his character, which I knew so well and dreaded so intensely.

The official Dutch "offer" of the throne was presented as representing nine-tenths of the populace. The formal proclamation of Louis as King of Holland took place at the Tuileries on 5 June 1806. He was solemnly reminded by Napoleon that he was still a French prince. In his response, Louis spoke of his pride in having worked to defend the Dutch people from invasion the year before, the honor he felt in being called to rule over them. He assured Napoleon that his people--he was now referring to the Dutch--would feel love and gratitude towards the Emperor and France.

[Louis Bonaparte]

Louis and Hortense left Paris a week later. The Dutch gave them a joyous reception as they made their way through the country, every small town vying to outdo the other. Hortense held a dismal view of it all. "The martial escorts, the honors, receptions and speeches only wearied me." At one point, she remarked darkly to Louis that the receptions were similar to those the French had held to celebrate the arrival of Marie Antoinette.

Though he had been thrust into the role against his will and accepted it with some reluctance, Louis was determined to be a good king to his subjects, and take care of their interests--which would inevitably put him at odds with Napoleon, just as it would for Murat in Naples years later. "From the moment I set foot on Dutch soil," the newly-crowned Louis declared to his legislature, "I became Dutch." "Which explained in a sentence," writes biographer Andrew Roberts, "the problem Napoleon was to have with him over the next four years."

***

Sources:

Atteridge, A. Hillard. Napoleon’s Brothers, 1909.

Broers, Michael. Napoleon: Soldier of Destiny. 2014.

Broers, Michael. Napoleon: Spirit of the Age. 2018.

De Beauharnais, Hortense. Memoirs of Queen Hortense, Vol I.

Masson, Frédéric. Napoleon et sa Famille, Vol I (1796-1802), 1907.

Roberts, Andrews. Napoleon: A Life. 2014.

#Meet the Bonapartes #Louis Bonaparte #Hortense de Beauharnais #Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte #history #19th century #Napoleonic

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

No one gets to see my weak side

Request: Would you please write for Bucky & reader, wherein he's in love with Natasha but is forced to marry reader, he's never home ignores her even when she tries hard. She even must work as a waitress for money, one-night Brock tries to rape her, Steve arrives just in time and saves her. They become good friends. It's on you if you want her to stay with Bucky or get married to Steve. It could be an au where they are not Avengers.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Mobster!Reader, Mobster!Steve x Mobster!Reader

Warnings: angst, feisty reader, language, smut, unprotected sex, polyamory, betrayal

Consolation Bride Masterlist

Three months later…

“Just like that, taking me so good, doll.” Steve bites your neck as his hands hold yours pinned to the bed. “I love fucking you in the morning after you wake up.”

Purring against your throat the tall mobster drive into you with full force, enjoying you cry out with every thrust.

“Fuck, Stevie.” Sweat is dripping down your back and you hear Steve pant heavily on top of you, but you don’t care at all.

Everyone passing your bedroom by will know you are fucking your husband’s best friend and you care even less as Steve brings you to the edge of an orgasm in no time.

“Let go, Baby. Come all over me and cry out my name…” Steve slams into you, stilling as he can feel your pussy contort around him. “I love the way you moan my name…”

Laughing you enjoy the way Steve kisses you after the rough sex. He was more than needy after not seeing you for over four weeks but now he’s gentle, caring and you lean into his touch.

“Steve, hmm…feels good. We need to talk about something.” Steve shifts his weight off you, gently pulling and you roll onto your back, grabbing the blanket to cover your sweaty body. “I think we have a problem.”

“Is it Bucky? Does he want us to stop rolling in the hay?” Smirking Steve watches you snuggle into his chest.

“I think Bucky finally accepted I want you too, Steve. I’m concerned about someone I thought I can trust but lately, I got the feeling, she’s playing me.” Sitting up you wrap your arms around your body, loving Steve gently kisses your shoulder.

“Who is playing you, Y/N? I don’t understand.”

“Do you remember the girls we saved? Especially Gamora and her sister?” Steve nods, now listening closely as you keep on talking.

“I thought I found a friend, Steve. After I lost Wanda…” Sniffling you wipe a few tears away. “Wanda was my only friend and losing her was hard. It felt as if I lost a sister. Gamora, she needed my help and over the last months we became friends.” Slamming your fist into the mattress you laugh about your stupidity.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Baby.” Steve’s hands slide over your back, gently caressing your skin to calm you.

“Bucky will hate me for sure, if not at least laugh about me…” Sighing you turn around to crawl onto Steve’s lap, resting your head against his shoulder. “I told her about Brock, how Bucky treated me, Steve…”

“I get it, Y/N.” Rubbing your back your lover listens to your silent sobs.

“I thought I can trust her, Stevie. She got abused and treated badly by men, I experienced Brock and James's rejection. I wanted someone to talk to and it felt good to tell someone else than you or Bucky.” Falling silent you look up at Steve.

“That’s no crime, Y/N. I assume there’s more?” Cocking a brow Steve waits for you to tell him what’s bugging you.

“The problem is Steve, I let Thor run a background check about the club, the girls and all. Every girl has a sob story. Abuse, kidnapping, some were victims of human trafficking…” Grabbing your phone from the nightstand you show Steve the files.

“Gamora has one too…no problem.” Steve swipes through the documents, not knowing why you believe your friend could be a traitor.

“Steve, look at her life. Every girl has months or even years in which they disappeared. Gamora is different. We have information for all her years in life, that’s fishy. Even I disappeared for a few months after my mom’s death.” Steve looks at your data once again, wrinkling his forehead.

“Shit, you think she’s a fed?”

“I think so, Steve. Lately, she started asking me questions about you, Bucky and Tony. Before she was just listening or telling me stuff about her life, what happened in that club, but I talked to the other girls. Gamora arrived a few weeks before we burned the club down.”

Blanket wrapped around your body you get off the bed to walk toward the showers. “I’ll have a shower and then we should talk to Thor and Bucky, maybe even call Tony. If the feds are after us, they need to know, and I’ll have to play Gamora.”

----

“That’s not funny.” Bucky paces around the room, blinking a few times to let your information sink in. “You told her about me and our marriage?”

“I needed a friend and…” Jumping up you point toward Bucky. “I missed Wanda, okay. We always talked about everything going on and now I have no one left.”

Balling his leather-gloved hands into fists Bucky rolls his shoulders. His eyes darken as he can see the hurting all over your face. “She betrayed you, Y/N. I’ll kill her.”

“NO!” Walking toward your husband you move your hands over his black leather jacket, feeling the rough fabric. “If we kill her, the feds will know we are behind her death, Bucky. We need to be smart.”

“Y/N is right. As much as I want to kill that bitch, we need to be careful. After the disaster with your arm and all…” Steve leans against your desk, sighing as Bucky looks at his friend, murder in his eyes.

“She hurt my wife and betrayed her. I don’t care…” Your lips silence Bucky and you fist his jacket to not let him protest.

“Bucky calm down. I’m angry too, disappointed, to say the least, but Gamora got nothing to use against us. I only told her about your infidelity and that someone attacked me one night. I lied and said he escaped.”

“Good. We need to make sure she believes that all is under control and we do not know she’s a fucking traitor.” Bucky’s hands cover yours, squeezing them tightly as you nod, blinking the tears away.

“We should feed her with false information. Maybe let her know some unimportant facts about our business. Nothing she can use against Steve, and us. We should inform Tony too. He’s mostly busy with his technique crap, still, his business ain’t that legal.” Bucky wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back as Steve did before.

“I’ll do anything to bring her down. She faked to be my friend, betrayed me after I was close to show her my weak side. I will not let her get away with that.” Bucky laughs into your neck, kissing it softly.

“Okay. We need to find something to make her believe you are a reliable source for information about our business. If she believes her source died she might strike. Steve and I need time to talk to Tony.”

“Do you want to do it in Chicago style?” Smirking Bucky nods.

“I’ll talk to Tony and make sure he will fake some nice information about our new favorite federal agent. After we are done with her she’ll need to find a new job. Maybe she can dance for us…” Laughing you walk back toward your desk, sitting onto your chair you dial Gamora’s number.

“Hey, Gam. How about we have a lady’s night tomorrow night? Steve and Bucky have better things to do so I’ll be free.” You lie while Steve dials Tony’s number to make sure the genius among the mobsters will be able to create a construct of lies to bring Gamora down…

----

“So…Tony faked transactions to her bank account. Faked pictures of her with Brock’s best buddies. We will bring her down in no time. Tomorrow you’ll give her the false information and her boss will not be amused if the mission fails.”

Smirking Bucky massages your shoulders, groaning as you moan when he presses his thumbs into your muscles.

“Did you ever dream of being someone else?” Closing your eyes, you feel Bucky’s lips travel along your shoulder, nipping at your skin as his hands raise your butt to press into you. “God, James…”

“I only dream of you and feeling you around me…” Sliding slowly in and out of you Bucky moans into your neck. “If you want to run away with me…”

“I think it’s too late…fuck…harder…for running away, Bucky.” Your hands fist the cushions as Bucky starts to slam into you. “Before we could’ve…”

“We still can just drop everything and run.” His hands cover yours, gripping them tightly as he angles his cock to hit your sweet spot. “That’s it, Baby. Come for me…”

“Bucky…” Your voice hoarse, desperate you cry out his name, hating you can’t stay away from James. “I want to bring her down and run my father’s business…”

“You sure…?” Nodding you fall onto the pillow just taking his hard thrusts to feel him fill you moments later.

“I am sure, Bucky. Not as someone forced me, not out of responsibility. I want to do it as this is the life I choose…”

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locktobre · 3 years

Note

In your Barbie-verse, what was it like for Rip growing up, and when he was an adult, post-getting out of fairy prison? Also, what happened to his mom? In the movies, we don't see her, and iirc, she was never mentioned, so I just assumed she died at some point, or Break was just a single dad.- That PCS Anon

Rip backstory is my favorite and I sure have a lot of it lmao

Rip’s mother was Barbra “Barb” Bloom, and she died when he was 9 (his brother Chuck was 11). But up to that point, Rip actually had a pretty good childhood. Barb also has a power, she was pretty sure, but it was so nebulous she could neither prove nor quite define it--either the ability to always find what she was looking for, or simply being in the right place at the right time, one of the two. Break didn’t believe it, and she didn’t bring it up a lot, since again, she couldn’t really explain the feelings she got, she just knew that some moments were special.

When Rip first started seeing things, she thought he was just being an imaginative kid, but then she realized it could actually be magic when she noticed that like... Rip doesn’t really have that great of an imagination. He’s more analytical, he doesn’t really color outside the lines or tell lies or get in trouble. Idk how to explain it, but sometimes ppl just seem like the type to say anything, you know? And then there’s ppl you can’t imagine ever lying or doing anything crazy or anything like that.

Anyway, so they were in it together while she was alive, and he had her there to talk about what he was seeing. But then she died, and Rip took it very hard. Everyone did, but Rip lost the one person he could really talk about magic with. And on top of that, he didn’t even know if he believed in magic anymore, bc if Barb was in the right place at the right time, she wouldn’t have been hit by that car, would she? So he doesn’t know what to believe, bc if she was wrong about her magic, then was she wrong about his? How does he know that he’s not just crazy? And he can’t talk to Break about it, bc Break does not believe. Chuck doesn’t really, either, but he’s nicer about it.

So that all leads to sort of a downward spiral as Rip grows up, bc he doesn’t always trust his perceptions. And that leads to the desperation to just jump thru a flyway when he’s 17, he was really not in a good place at the time. I touched on it in my other post, but he was gone for a couple weeks, and Break legitimately thought he was dead. And then when he tried to explain about the flyways and getting lost, of course that just pissed off Break even more bc it’s just more of Rip’s bullshit, right? So Rip eventually just says he ran away and then came back when he ran out of money (which is kinda-sorta the truth, if you strip the magic out). So Break’s furious with him (and so is Chuck), he’s grounded forever... But that’s actually a good turning point for him, bc he met Lilliana. And after the flyways, and Lilliana giving him some (begrudging) answers, he knows he’s not crazy. His friendship with Lilliana only lasts a few months, but by the time she cuts him off he’s friends with Finn, who may not believe him but also doesn’t fight him at every turn when he brings up magic, he’s more like lmao ok buddy whatever you say, which is honestly better than what Rip gets at home. And Finn does come around awhile to like wait no shit, really? For real? Which Rip can’t really believe but he’s so grateful.

Anyway so that’s up to 1989. Fast forward a couple years to 1991. Finn and Anne have been together for awhile, but Finn’s kind of like... He doesn’t want to break up with Anne, he still loves her a lot, but since their relationship has to be a secret, and it can’t really be any other way, it’s starting to wear on him. And he’s started to develop some romantic feelings for Rip that he wants to pursue, in part bc it would be much easier, honestly. But when he brings this up to Anne, she really doesn’t want to break up with him, either, so she says that he should just date Rip, too. And Finn’s like and... you’d be fine with that? And Anne’s like I will learn to be, anyway. And Finn’s not really sure if this will work or if Rip will even go for it. Rip is hesitant but he’s open to basically whatever so he’s like we can try it for awhile, I guess. Anne really makes an effort to be chill but it is hard on her and Rip’s like maybe we shouldn’t do this and Anne’s like I think the problem is that we don’t really know each other. Like Rip and Anne aren’t really friends, they’ve obviously met before but never really hung out one on one so Rip really knows her as Finn’s girlfriend, and she knows him as Finn’s weird friend. So they decide to start trying to get to know each other and be friends.

Rip doesn’t talk about any magic stuff with Anne for a couple reasons, one of which is that he doesn’t want to come off any weirder than he does when he’s trying to befriend the woman, and also bc she’s a royal and Rip does not care for royals. Not bc of anything politically, he just doesn’t think they are careful enough with magic and he doesn’t trust them with it. (He doesn’t trust anyone with magic, actually. Not humans, not fairies, not anyone.) So he has to give her the edited version of events when she’s like have you dated anyone before? And Rip’s like it wasn’t really dating but I did have a brief relationship with Lilliana Roxelle and Anne’s like. You mean the French supermodel? And Rip’s like yeah and Anne’s like how did you even meet her and he’s like I crashed her NYE party. And Anne doesn’t know what to make of him, bc it’s such a wild, specific thing to say that it could be a lie but it just feels like it’s true, bc why not say something more believable if you were going to lie? Anyway Rip’s more chill about not being believed at this point bc he has one person on his side again (Finn), so he just shrugs it off. And they just kinda move on and talk about their families and not getting along with their fathers, which are very different situations but it’s enough to commiserate over, and they just keep going like that.

And at the beginning of this, remember, Anne thinks of Rip as just Finn’s weird friend. She has no idea what he sees in Rip, romantically. (Or platonically, for that matter. Like he’s fun to hang out with but why not literally anyone else?) And Rip’s not super good looking, either. Like, he’s handsome enough, but you probably wouldn’t look at him twice. (He’s Break’s son, so that kinda limits how hot he can be lmao.) But he just has something about him. Like, when you talk to him, you get his full attention, he’s really supportive and sympathetic and he always feels like he gets what you’re going thru. So Anne starts to get it, and then she’s like wait am I catching feelings for this guy? THIS guy? And yeah, she is. So the three of them actually end up dating for awhile, which is a lot more complicated but they like each other enough to make it work.

However, meanwhile, Rip has met Calissa. And she’s a mermaid, and a queen, and she’s married, and she has a kid, but... Well. The heart wants what it wants. So Rip has to break it off with Finn and Anne. He can explain to Finn about Calissa, so they could maybe still date, but he can’t really tell Anne about a mermaid, and if he doesn’t tell her she’s a mermaid he doesn’t really have a good excuse for why they can’t ever meet this other girl and it just feels weird. And it’s already complicated, he can’t be in so many complicated relationships at once. And Anne’s really confused about why Rip would break it off, until he says that the girl he wants to see is already married, and Anne’s pissed that Rip would pursue something with a married woman. And he says he knows it’s wrong but... he’s gonna do it anyway. (He can’t exactly say that she’s not in love with her husband but can’t get a divorce bc she’s a queen and it would be a political nightmare... Which might not help, anyway, but at least it’s better than interfering in a loving marriage, right? Right?) Anyway, Anne thinks he’s not the man she thought he was and she doesn’t even want to be friends with him anymore. Finn still is, but they don’t hang out the three of them pretty much ever again.

Rip has his secret relationship with Calissa, she gets pregnant, and then they don’t really know what to do bc they don’t know if it’s Caligo’s baby and it’s fine or if it’s Rip’s baby and they need to panic. But as her pregnancy progresses, she’s pretty sure it’s Rip’s bc the baby’s movement feels different, she’s pretty sure the baby has legs and not a tail. So they really start to panic. Rip obviously wants to take the baby, but he can’t just show up at home with a random kid and say that hey btw my mermaid girlfriend gave birth. Break would think he was insane. Anyway so that’s when Rip gets the idea to fake his death, which he does. And he moves down the coast a ways and raises baby Merliah for about a year, until the Gloss Angeles guard track him down.

Cue botched execution and 17 year exile in Fairytopia, and then he returns to Earth in December 2012.

And life is actually... pretty damn good. He’s reunited with Calissa and Merliah, and his dad now knows he wasn’t lying about seeing fairies and meeting a mermaid and all of that. He has a lot to contend with, re-adjustment-wise, with how much the world has changed in the intervening time, and he also has 2 other daughters he had no idea about, and then Calissa gets pregnant with twins pretty fast so there’s a lot going on, but he’s used to chaos and having to learn about new environments so he takes it in stride, pretty much. He also reconnects with Finn (at Merliah and Kylie’s urging), so he even gets his old friend back.

And then, in 2016, a year post-RNR, Finn tells Anne that Rip’s alive. Which is in response to her telling him about keeping Sloane from him, and so he takes the opportunity to say I’ve actually been keeping something from you, too. (Idk if those two secrets are roughly equal, but for the characters I’m going to say they are.) And so Anne reconnects with Rip, too, and finally gets brought into the loop and learns about Rip’s powers and what really went down with him and Calissa and all of that. Which is a big shock but also he has some helpful advice about how to approach the situation with Sloane, having done it twice himself lmao. So honestly, everything comes up roses for Rip. He gets to live the rest of his life in quiet domesticity, which is all he ever really wanted.

The ONLY thing that kinda sucks is that due to how mermaids (and fairies) age, Calissa basically looks the same for their whole marriage. So as he gets older, she looks more and more like some young trophy wife, and he hates that anyone looking at him would think he’s some weird old man lmao. (He’s only 3 years older than her in actuality.) But that’s basically the only thing that sucks. Everything else in his life is very good, bc he deserves that goddammit.

#mel irl #barbie babbles #summers clan blogging #anonymous #thanks for asking #finn x anne #finn x rip x anne #rip x calissa

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insomniacowl · 4 years

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Neon Genesis Evangelion analysis chapter 4 and 5: Human instrumental project original version, and Ikari Gendou’s version

Trigger warning: Language that may metaphorically depict rape.

Chapter 4: Human instrumentality project (HIP): Original version

Adam, now reduced to a fetal from due to the explosion. Gendou acquired it through Kaji

By deliberately inciting the “The second impact”, Seele was able to retrieve Adam’s soul and body parts. They realized that stopping the annihilation of humankind required pocessio of power greater than what they could muster. To solve this problem, Adam being under their control was a necessity. Once done, Seele and Gehirn (later Nerv) initiated project-E Using Adam’s body; began the construction of Evangelions.

Do keep in mind that at this point in time, the motivation of Seele was to repel the angels and prevent the occurrence of “Third impact”. In other words, to prevent the annihilation of humankind; tp prevent the “Third impact”.

Seele has three key projects that they were undertaking during the timeframeof the series:1) project-E, 2) The Adam project, and 3) HIP. However at the point of “The second impact”, they were focused only on project-E; the construction of Evangelions by making artificial copies of Adam using the sample of his body that was retrieved.

Picture of the real dead seas scroll, of course, its contents would be different from that of the series

“The illegitimate successor of Earth, the descendants of Lilith who pushed aside the true successor Adam shall atone for their sin” – while Seele originally focused on protecting humankind from such faith, as time passed, their view of this statement changed. “If the dead seas scroll speaks of dozens of Angels that need to the fought off, is it possible for us to survive through that?”, “Do we have that capability?”, “If so, should we not attempt at becoming a god in preparation for the battles?”. These questions began making the deviation of Seele’s goals over time.

Evangelion unit-01 was the only model built using Lilith as the base. Why?

In simple terms, Seele, to refute the accusation of being illegitimate successors, decided to make humans the true successors of earth. Evangelions are all built with Adam as their base but there was an exception with the second unit that was built. Unit-01 was based on Human’s ancestor, Lilith. Seele believed that by using the Evangelion that was built with Lilith as the base, Humankind could be reborn as a more perfect and unique, unified being.

*How it is suppose to will be covered later

Therefore, Evangelion unit-01 was planned as the body to house the new humankind that was to be born. Thus turning Seele’s goal into the creation of a perfect descendant of Lilith, or perhaps, to be reborn as Lilith herself. This is what we refer to as the original HIP, and the person made to bear the highest responsibility of this project was Ikari Yui.

*This too will be further elaborated later, but this changed version of their plan we refer to as original is in direct contradiction of the initial HIP of Seele

Ikari Yui became an influential member of Seele following her parents’ footsteps.

Even though the plan itself was proposed to Seele by Gendou, it was Yui who was behind all of its planning. Even if Gendou carried out most of the project after Yui’s death, it was Yui that detailed out the plans, and allowed Gendou to gaim the influence within Seele to get it approved and initiated.

While we are not made very clear of Yui’s ability in the series, she was much more than just a loving mother.

Yui graduated from Kyoto University and married Rokubunki Gendou, later mothering Shinji.

Her final (?) moments as we are told was when she was absorbed into Unit-01’s core during an experiment. We need to understand that this was not an accident. Rather it was a part of Yui’s plan. While it is unfortunate that Gendou was unable to accept that Yui was gone, resulting in a different set of problem (to Yui’s HIP among many other), Yui was aware of the consequences of being absorbed into Unit-01’s core, that it did not mean death but that it is a way of immortalizing herself. She perceived this to be a good thing and thus decided to take on the core-experiment herself.

Fuyutsuki: To become as though god and creating Adam with human hands. Is that what you want?

Yui: Yes. Eva will be able to live forever along with the heart and soul of everyone in her. Even after 5 billion years, when the earth, and the moon, and the sun are long gone, she will live on. It will be a lonely journey, but to live is what matters.

“Goodbye, mom”

Life is full of pain suffering. But even so, since we are alive, it is is meaningful in and of itself to continue surviving; to live on. We need to see that Yui prioritized survival over the pain of solitude. This is the most surface level, but also the most important idea of this series, and Ikari Yui is the character that embodies this idea to the fullest and with the most sincerity.

Yet, it is also interesting that Yui attempted to solve the most human question; one of dealing with the feeling of isolation ingrained into the human condition via unification of humankind into a single being, centering the original HIP with this idea at its core; from the current form of grouped individuals that are inherently isolated, to unify as a single being like that of the angels. But as we all know if we have watched the series, at the very last moment, this idea is rejected by her most beloved son.

What makes understanding HIP complex are the intertwined motivations, goals, and perspectives differing among the stakeholders and this not being clearly categorised for us; left for us to piece together by ourselves. The reason why we named this the “Original HIP” is that after her death (?), Gendou and Seele began deviating from it in their various ways.

Chapter 5: Human instrumentality project. Ikari Gendou version

While Gendou was falling apart from Yui’s death, it was the effort of Fuyutsuki that Gendou did not give up on Yui’s HIP (at least in principle). Throughout the series, we can glance into such efforts from their conversations, such as this one in episode 12.

Fuyutsuki: Antarctica has become a death world, or should we call it hell on earth? It no longer allows for any life in it.

Gendou: But we stand here as humans. As living beings.

Fuyutsuki: Because we are shielded by the powers of science

Gendou: That “science” is the strength of humans

Fuyutsuki: Its that kind of hubris that caused the second impact fifteen years ago. And the result. It is too much punishment even if it’s for our hubris.

Gendou: Yet this is the world free of the original sin; pure

Fuyutsuki: Even if we are to carry the burden of that sin, I would prefer a world where humans would go on living.

Here, we can see Fuyutsuki embodying Yui’s version of HIP, even more then Gendou. But note also that their conversation highlights the main conflict point between Yui’s and Seele’s versions of HIP.

So let us try to understand how the disappearance of Yui influenced Gendou and his reasoning. For this, we need to understand the character named Ikari Gendou. He will have a whole chapter for a deep dive later on, so I’ll focus on what is important in understanding his version of HIP.

Ikari (Rokubunki before marriage) Gendou, husband of Ikari Yui, and (at least biologically) Shinji’s father. Beyond his cynical and cold-hearted demeanor throughout the series, deep down, he is just like his son. Crucially that both of them have difficulty getting along with other people. Remember that the only being that Gendou opened up to after Yui’s death was Ayanami Rei, an artificially created human.

The idea to be reborn as a singular, unified being had different meanings for the two Ikaris. While for Yui, it was to develop a blueprint of ideal humankind, for Gendou, it was to escape the “Fear of other” that he was constantly under. Similar in their goals but differing in their motivation. It does not seem likely that this difference served as a reason for conflict between the two, however it was the key reason why Gendou became astray from Yui’s version of HIP after her disappearance. The reason why we see him referring to HIP as a method to ’complement the imperfection” is that he is aware of flaws in his personality

After Yui’s disappearance, Gendou submits his proposal of HIP to get the project running in full gear. While the goals and methods were mostly the same as the original version, there was a key difference, that is that ‘defeating the angels’ was no longer the end in and of itself, but a means to something else.

Even if Seele’s goals differed from Gendou, due to the motivation being the same (to make perfect the imperfect humankind”, they approved of it.

Fuyutsuki too was in ‘love’ with Yui

Yet looking at the timeline, it seems that Gendou began working on the project only after Yui’s death, and from this, we can conclude that his true motivation was to reunite with Yui’s soul that now rests in Eva Unit-01.

So, Gendou’s version of HIP is neither like the Original versions that seek to become a perfect version of Lilith, nor Seele’s version that seeks to repent for the Original sin by casting Lilith away; it is very personal. Yet, this reason is exactly why, Fuyutsuki, who does not harbor kind feelings for Gendou, cooperates with him. He too seeks to reunite with Yui’s soul. He too holds great affection for Yui.

In all honesty, Seele’s greatest mistake was in hiring Gendou

Of course, this selfish reason was to be kept secret from Seele. However to undertake such a monumental project, a great deal of economic investment was required, and this shaped Gendou’s HIP proposal to be more in line with that of Seele’s version; this serving as the main conflict point between Gendou and Fuyutsuki.

The Seele Version of HIP, I’ll go into depth in the next few chapters, in summary, is this. “Since Humanity is hopeless and has no future, we should cause our own annihilation to atone for our sins. If such is the fate that is inevitable with the arrival of angels, we should choose the honorable suicide. This might allow us to be forgiven and be allowed rebirth and live among the gods”.

What those mean to be more than human?

Yet, Gendou’s version of HIP was different from Seele, and to achieve the goal of reuniting with Yui’s soul, there were two premises.

One: The impact has to occur with Eva Unit-01 (With Yui’s soul) as the centerpiece

Two: To maintain his selfhood after the impact, Gendou had to become something more than human. If not, the one who would be granted selfhood would be Shinji whom Yui would have chosen.

This is a very problematic scene if you think about it.

To summarise Gendou’s HIP that required these premises is the ‘fusion of Adam and Lilith’; to fuse Adam into his body, to plant this into Rei that holds Lilith’s soul, and enter Lilith’s body.

When this is carried out, using Lilith’s body as a vessel for his, and Eva Unit-01 as Yui’s soul, they could become the ancestors of new humankind; to write a new book of Genesis, and place the two in the position of Adam and Eve. (Of course, as we know, this is rejected by Rei at the very last minute. Keep in mind how both Yui, and Gendou were rejected by Shinji, and Rei respectively.)

Keel Lorenz, the head of Seele. What then is his version of HIP?

In Seele’s point of view, This was akin to Gendou making an attempt in becoming a god. For Seele, who wanted to purify and cause the rebirth of humanity, this was an unforgivable show of hubris.

Thus Seele began working on their own version of HIP. Post Script. Unlike the time when I was writing this, there has been an increase analysis of looking at characters’ actions as depicting them in the autism spectrum. Both the reason to the depiction, and the normalisation of that in media is something that could be a topic of interest.

#Neon genesis evangelion #Evangelion #Eva #Ikari Shinji #Soryu Asuka Langley #Ayanami Rei #Anno Hideaki #Katsuragi Misato #Anime #Analysis #Review

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babbushka · 5 years

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Mind & Soul (1/10)

The story of how one man fell out of love and into it again

Charlie (Marriage Story) x Reader

(Word count: 3.5k ; Warnings: Infidelity, Affairs/Cheating, Mild Angst, N*FW)

—————–

I’ve never been in love before

Now all at once it’s you

It’s you forever more

Charlie looks around the theater, hands in his pockets.

The last of the crew had gone, the light and sound booths all locked up. The costumes were zipped in their dust-bags and the props were arranged perfectly on the space they’ve created for this production. The cast had departed long before, all gone off to their homes and their families. Charlie had made excuses all evening to stay, he was so particular, everyone knew him as being particular.

But he couldn’t ask anyone to stay any later, so they have all gone.

It’s just Charlie and the ghosts now, in the theater.

He sighs, scrubs a hand down his face, checks his watch. It’s almost midnight, and he sighs again.

He climbs the short stairs at the front of the stage, faces the empty theater, faces the rows and rows of red velvet seats, tries to imagine a crowd, tries to imagine an audience for his pain. As he stands there, lost in his thoughts, he wonders how it happened, how it got like this.

He knows, who is he kidding? He knows.

It’s been on track to end this way for a long time, he thinks, really thinks about it. The marriage. He can’t help but recoil at the thought, at the way the word stings the back of his throat. It doesn’t matter, he reasons, there’s no one here to see him breakdown – not that he’s breaking down.

He could, if he wanted. No one is there to see.

He could go home, slip right through the front door, right up the stairs to bed. Nicole wouldn’t be awake, she’s never awake. She’s either asleep or gone, has been for the past year.

Has it already been a year? Charlie can’t believe it, but then again, yes he can.

Maybe he won’t go home, he decides, as he paces the stage. He justifies it with the time; it’s so late, really too late to want to take the subway all the way home, too late to want to deal with a taxi or an Uber or whatever the hell. He doesn’t know why he bothers justifying it at all, Nicole won’t ask him. She doesn’t ask him things anymore, no more ‘how are you’s or ‘how was your day’s. It suits him just fine, he wouldn’t be able to answer without lying.

He doesn’t like lying.

He sighs again, lays down on the couch on the stage. It’s an antique, matches the feeling of the play well, or at least that’s what he thought. It’s really fucking uncomfortable, and he can’t help but huff a self-deprecating laugh at the thought that it’s somehow still more comfortable then his bed at home.

It started out well enough, Charlie thinks, an actress and a director. That made sense, didn’t it? Started out with smiles and laughter and kisses late at night, kisses at school, on stage. He wonders why he gave everything up for Nicole, kicks himself for doing it. So many experiences to have and people and places to see and go, and he settled down with her.

Now look at him.

He stares up at the rafters, and his stomach twists and swoops, as he thinks of you.

You had changed everything, because of course you had. Of course you had.

He thinks about the curve of your face and the soft plushness of your lips when they press against his. As he lays there, stares up at the rafters of the stage he distracts the bitter thoughts of Nicole with the calming thoughts of you, the way your legs wrap around his hips, the way he bends you over with ease. The way you come on his cock his fingers his tongue, the way you laugh and tease and bully him in the most playful way that only you can get away with.

He loves you, had loved you long before he even really met you, he thinks.

He thinks back to the first time, that first day.

I’ve never been in love before

I thought my heart was safe

I thought I knew the score

But this is wine

It’s all too strange and strong

I’m full of foolish song

And out my song must pour

It had been a sunny day, an exciting day. Henry had just turned seven, and they made the decision to move into a bigger house, more room for Henry to run around and play with his friends, room for maybe a dog, maybe two. They were living the cookie-cutter dream, complete with white picket fence and tire swing hanging from the great big tree on the front lawn.

They thought maybe that was the root of all the arguments, maybe there just hadn’t been enough space at the apartment. So Charlie bought them the house, moved them in, hoped the arguments would stop.

He feels like a fucking moron for that, now.

But then, then they were so excited.

The house was just outside the city, just barely a suburb. It was close enough that they could walk to the train station, could drop Henry off at school before going their separate ways – Charlie to rehearsal in one theater, Nicole to rehearsal in another.

At least, that’s what they told each other. As time went on, who the fuck knew where they went.

Charlie knew.

The moving truck got there at exactly eight in the morning, and you had knocked on their door at nine.

Looking back, Charlie can remember exactly what you wore, exactly how you looked as you stood on the front stoop. The sun kissed your skin, made your hair practically glow. It made Charlie’s hands sweat, but he wrote it off as just being from the heat of the day.

Nicole was busy unpacking some boxes, so it was Charlie who had opened the door, opened it to your smiling welcoming face. He didn’t think he had ever seen anyone so beautiful, but at the time, he pushed the thought away.

Now he was thinking about it all the time.

“Hi! I hope I’m not bothering you,” You shifted the foil wrapped tray in your arms to free a hand, extend it out for him to shake. “I’m (Y/N), your next door neighbor. I just wanted to welcome you to the block.”

Charlie can remember feeling your hand in his for the first time, the firmness of your grip despite how small your hand was compared to his own. He remembers forgetting to let go, the handshake awkwardly long, only the reminder of his wife making him drop it.

“Honey who is it?” Nicole had shouted from one of the bedrooms, and without turning to look away from you, he answered.

“Our new neighbor!” he shouted back, gratefully taking the tray from your hands.

It smelled delicious, whatever it was, like fruit and syrup and pastry. It smelled like home, like a new beginning.

And it was, just not the kind Charlie thought he was getting.

“It’s pie.” You told him, so he wouldn’t have to lift the foil, and you smile.

“She made us a pie.” He shouts again, smiling back. No one had ever made him a pie before.

Nicole made herself present then, and you had smiled at her just as brightly, had offered your hand to shake hers as well. She dusted her own hands off on her jeans before taking yours, was surprised by your grip too. You didn’t shy away from Nicole, you never have.

“That’s so sweet, thank you. I’m Nicole, this is my husband Charlie.” She said, thinking nothing of it.

The memory stings, the way she had been so happy to call him hers back then.

He wonders if she thinks about it too, about the farce that they had been living.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ll leave you guys be, but I work from home so if you have any questions about the neighborhood or anything, feel free to ring my bell.” You had said, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

“Thank you, we will.” Charlie had said, right before Nicole had closed the door in your face.

He remembers the argument that they had later, about how Charlie thought that was rude, about how Nicole didn’t trust the pie coming from some stranger.

You didn’t feel like a stranger, not to Charlie.

So please forgive

This helpless haze I’m in

I’ve really never been

In love before

He wishes he could go back in time, divorce Nicole right then and there, right after she had slammed the door. It would have saved everyone a whole lot of fucking trouble, he thinks.

But he can’t, he can’t go back in time.

So instead he takes advantage of the present, he takes advantage of your patience. You’re so patient with him, always have been. You don’t expect anything from him, not the way everyone else does. You’re a steady rock in this tumultuous fucking divorce, this nasty fucking divorce.

Your patience is the only thing that keeps him from completely losing it, sometimes, when Nicole is in LA and Henry is with her and he can feel control slipping through the cracks between his fingers. Loose sand in the desert.

No one knew, no one could know, about the two of you.

It made him ashamed, made him feel like he was the scum of the earth for having to sneak around and be with you the way he did. He wanted you on his arm, wanted to show you off for the whole world to see.

But he can’t, not yet. Not until the last of the ink dries and they part ways for the last time, not until it’s officially official, that he’s no longer a married man.

He hasn’t felt like a married man in a long time, in years.

He wonders what he’ll do when he’s free, finally free. He smiles to himself, he knows what he’s going to do.

He’s known for years.

“This seat taken?” You ask, startling him awake.

He doesn’t realize he had fallen asleep, doesn’t realize he’s lying on the prop couch on stage, and his eyes blink into the darkness of the theater as he sits up, eyes adjust to the soft glow of the gentle stage lights he had dimmed.

You look like an angel, backlit by the lights as you climb the front steps. Just seeing you throws his heart into an erratic rhythm that has him sweating, not with fear but with hunger, a quiet desperation.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, voice thick with sleep.

Your eyes glance downwards, and you kneel in front of him. Charlie’s pulse quickens at the sight of you on your knees, as you rest your head on his thigh. He brings his hand to your hair, pets it back sweetly.

It’s the first tender touch he’s had in days, a stolen moment in an empty theater.

“I asked you first.” You whisper, sighing into his lap, a hand lightly stroking his calf. “It’s late.” You say, just to have something to say, just to talk to him.

You don’t get to talk to him very often, not like this. Don’t get to be close, not like this.

“Yeah, it is.” Charlie swallows, pets your hair.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, and he doesn’t know how to respond.

He doesn’t know, because he doesn’t know. Nicole won’t talk to him, won’t tell him anything. She says she feels oppressed, calls him selfish – but for what? That he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how to fix things, not that he wants to.

He doesn’t want to.

Maybe he is selfish, for not wanting to.

You’re waiting for an answer, waiting for something, because that’s how conversations work. One person says something, and another person responds. He’s read enough scripts to know, directed enough plays.

You’re waiting, but he doesn’t have a good answer to give. There’s no such thing as good dialogue, he thinks. Someone once said there are no conversations, only intersecting monologues.

“Honestly, no not really.” Charlie says, looks down into your sad eyes, “But things are better now, now that you’re here.”

It’s the truth, and he doesn’t deny it, doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t deny it.

You lick your lips and Charlie pulls you up off the dusty stage floor, pulls you fully into his lap. Bits of nothing catch the light and swirl around in the air as he arranges you so you straddle his thighs, lets his hands span your back as he kisses you.

You kiss back, slowly, tentatively. It’s wrong, you both know it’s wrong, but he can’t help but think it’s the best thing he’s ever done, kissing you.

It’s quiet in the empty theater, so quiet that your moans and your pants and his groans and his grunts rise up to the rafters, cling to the beams there for the ghosts of plays gone by to drink up. Your secret is safe there, with the ghosts, with the theater, and he kisses you, lets a hand drop between your bodies to dip under your long skirt. He swallows hard when he feels how wet you are for him, how you’re starting to soak through your panties.

“I don’t like this, Charlie.” You say against his lips like you’re in pain, and his hand freezes, terrified he’s upset you.

“Don’t like what?” He asks, already withdrawing himself, kicking himself for thinking –

But then you’re shaking your head, grabbing his hand and sliding it between your underwear and your skin, and he can almost see the wet shine of tears in your eyes as you nudge his hand between your lips.

“You being here, by yourself. Afraid to go home.” You moan and sigh as Charlie moves his fingers, as he thrusts them inside you slowly, so slowly, dragging his fingertips against your walls, rubbing lazy circles on your clit, “You have to go home.”

You say it, say it because you have to. Because otherwise you’re a bad person, condoning this.

You want this so desperately.

“I’m not afraid – I don’t…It doesn’t feel like home, anymore.” Charlie licks into your mouth, frustrated and hard in his pants, and terrified and in love all at the same time. In love with someone who isn’t his wife, “I’m so sick of the silence, and that’s all that ever happens there anymore.” He tries to explain, tries to talk about the coldness that the house has now.

He swallows your moans down, his hot mouth on yours, drunk on the wine of your tongue.

“Well I won’t let you sleep here.” You say, so practical. He loves you, loves how practical you are.

“I’m too tired to take a cab.” He groans, and you laugh just a little.

“Then let’s walk.” You get up, and he groans at the loss of your heat around his fingers. “There’s a hotel just across the street. Come on, you can’t sleep here, Charlie.”

Charlie looks up at you, backlit by those lights, soft blue light flooding the stage.

“Would you stay?” He asks, his hand holding onto the back of your thigh, your skirt bunched up around his wrist. “Stay with me?”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” You bite your lip.

It could be bad, could be bad to be seen walking in together, walking out together in the morning. Someone might see, someone who knew you. Someone might see, and they’d know.

Charlie knows this too.

“I think it’s the best idea I’ve had in a long time.” He says anyway, because it’s true, always wants to tell the truth around you. No one listens to his truth, anymore. “I’m tired of not being able to hold you. Let me hold you?”

“I…” You have to look up to the ceiling, look up to those rafters and meet the eyes of the ghosts, the ones who are just as sad as you are, you know they are.

You can’t see them, but you know they’re there, you know they see.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asks, stands up from the couch, and then it’s his eyes you’re looking into, ghosts long forgotten.

“I’ll let you do a lot more than hold me. I’d let you do so much more than just hold me, if I thought we could get away with it. But we can’t, you know we can’t.” You voice your fear, so afraid of ruining things for him.

“What does it matter? She’s leaving me anyway, doesn’t want to be with me anyway.” He explains, and he hates her, hates Nicole in this moment, for making everything so fucking difficult. He knows that’s not fair, but, “I don’t want to be with her, I want to stay with you. Stay with me?”

“Oh, Charlie.” You look up at him, close the short distance between you with a kiss, as the two of you let yourselves have something for once.

Even if it’s just for this once.

But this is wine

It’s all too strange and strong

I’m full of foolish song

And out my song must pour

When he fucks you in the hotel, it’s more like making love.

It’s the slow undulation of his hips and your breathy moans that are tinged with tenderness, sweetness, softness. He could cry if he had the tears, he could. Instead he grunts and groans, mouth hanging open because the feeling of your cunt around him is so overwhelming.

“You’re so good, so perfect.” He sighs, litters your skin with kisses and bites and nips and sucks, and you grin underneath him, completely enveloped in him, in his arms.

“Right there – please Charlie right there.” You arch your back and tip your chin up, naked body sliding on the cool sheets of the freshly made bed.

In the morning they will come and take these sheets away, wash away the evidence of his betrayal, of your corruption, if that’s what they want to call it. Charlie doesn’t feel corrupted in the slightest, the only fire and brimstone of adultery he feels is that of the rush in his veins when he draws out the sweetest softest whines from you.

His hands span the distance of your breasts and he doesn’t stop himself from squeezing, kneading them. They’re so perfect, fit his hands perfectly. You’re made for him, he thinks, and you think it too, the both of you gasping into each other’s mouths.

You’re strung out underneath him, and he takes his time with you. Time seems to stand still when you’re there, he thinks, the whole universe stands still, and in that moment there’s no one else in the whole world, but you and him.

“Make me come?” You ask, ask him so sweetly, and how can he deny you that?

He’s got your legs arranged all around him, picks one up and gently places it over his shoulder, kisses the ankle there as he fucks you deeper, watches as your face and chest flush as you come with tightly shut eyes.

“Charlie!” You gasp, eyelids fluttering.

He’s not far behind, but he’s still got a ways to go, condom tight on his cock and keeping his own orgasm at bay. He wishes he didn’t have to, doesn’t want to wear one, but he’s not a jackass. He wants to keep you both safe. If it means he gets to fuck you a little longer, then he thinks it’s not so bad a tradeoff.

You pull him down so he’s practically flush against you, loop your arms around him.

He savors the feeling of you clenching around him, of you sucking on his neck, hot breath and moans and whines low in his ear. He knows it’s starting to get to be too much for you, you’re oversensitive and overwhelmed, and he grinds his cock into you deep, coming when you worry his earlobe in between those perfect teeth of yours.

He comes with a shout, and makes you come again, pushes another orgasm out of you by dropping his hand to roll your clit around lazily. He wishes he could feel your come mixing with his, wishes he could feel coated in your slick.

It’s too risky, you both know that.

At least for a little while, it’s still too risky.

“Thank you.” You hum happily, and Charlie stays inside you, keeps you pressed tight to him, kisses the underside of your jaw.

He doesn’t know how you can thank him, when you’re the benevolent one.

He doesn’t know.

He kisses you.

So please forgive

This helpless haze I’m in

I’ve really never been

In love before

—————–

Tagging some friends! If you’d like to be added to the taglist or taken off, please just let me know :) @driverficarchive @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @solotriplets @tinyplanet-explorers @candycanes19 @callmehopeless @kylo-renne xsister-serpent phoebewalker04 @stylelovechild @formerly-anonhamster

#reader insert #charlie x reader #marriage story #kylo ren x reader #adam driver character #my writing #mind and soul #mind & soul

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crushondonald · 5 years

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Remembering Donald O'Connor ❤

“A performer has to answer to himself. If you think something’s funny, you’ve got to go out there and try. It’s only by trial and error that you find out.”

August 28, 1925 - September 27, 2003

“I’m tired of being a machine … I am no angel, I’m the same as everyone else, with the same temperament and temper. I resent having people tag me as perpetual, super-polite juvenile. I’m subject to fever, headaches and bad-temper just like anybody else.” February 1954

“Alcoholism was a desease, a genetic thing. I used to have a marvelous time drinking. Until I passed that invisible line and became an alcoholic. I figured that I could master the rehab programme, be out there in a week, go back to drinking. But once I was there, something marvelous happened. My obsession to drink left me. Now I have been a recovering alcoholic for fifteen and a half years.” June 1994

After he suffered a very serious physical collapse caused by excessive alcohol abuse in 1978, Donald was finally hospitalized for approx. three months. Ever since he was cured from alcoholism in 1979, Donald recovered visibly, regained the trust of his family, went back to work successfully and never touched a drop of alcohol again for the rest of his life. On top of that, he claimed that he had never been happier in life ever before.

“He’s the man you’d wish to be with you for the rest of your life.” Gloria Noble O'Connor ~ Donald’s second wife

“I’m the guy who danced through life. It seems that no matter what I do, if I did MacBeth, they’d want me to do eight bars of ‘Tea for Two’ just because it pleases. It’s the kind of dancing I do – jumping around and having a good time. It’s happy, gay, and pleasant. Dancing is so wonderful. Once they start the music, your whole day, if it’s been rotten, seems to melt away. You get carried away in the tune that you’re moving to. It’s a marvelous catharsis … to be able to get on top and tap dance.”

“Donald was a spontaneous artist and comedian, and he could never do anything the same twice. There was no way you could say, ‘Do it this way, and it will be funnier.’ It was all improvisation.The dummy he uses in the dance, for example, was lying on a rehearsal stage next door to us [on the set of SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN]. We walked in one day and Donald started to fool around with it. For half an hour, we just roared with laughter. Finally, we said, ‘Well, let’s put that in the number.’ All of it came right out of Donald. It was unbelievable. We had to throw out 20 minutes of it.“ Gene Kelly

“I was born in a trunk, and I’ll die performing.”

… you nearly made it, Don! I love and miss him with all my heart … it is a blessing that Donald shared his unique talent with the world for more than 70 (!) years! He loved to entertain his audiences, was a passionate performer and made generations laugh (of course, he still does!), even though he had to struggle with many personal, painful strokes of fate. Donald O'Connor was the youngest and the fourth surviving child of seven, born to John Edward “Chuck” O'Connor, who was from County Cork in Ireland, and Effie Irene O'Connor (née Crane), both vaudevillians. The O'Connor Family was billed as “The Royal Family of Vaudeville” at the time. When Donald was 10 months old, his father died from heart attack while performing on stage, only a few weeks after his seven year-old sister Arlene was killed in a car accident. As she was crossing the street with Donald in a stroller, the car hit her. Miraculously, Donald remained nearly unhurt. Effie O'Connor had become extremely overprotective of her remaining children, seeming never to completely recover from the shock of losing her daughter and husband within weeks of each other. Donald joined the family act when he was just a toddler. He enjoyed being on stage, which also served as escape from his domineering mother. Sadly, she had a good reason to worry. Until 1958, Donald finally had survived all his siblings. Don was only 19 years old, when he married his first wife Gwen Carter in 1944, the year he entered service in WWII. While he was overseas, he got acquainted with the devil who became finally an obsession ... alcohol. After returning home, life went back to normal very slowly. Universal Pictures, where he was under contract since 1942, did not really know what to do with him. His first apperance on screen after the war followed in 1947. In the meantime, his daughter Donna was born in 1946. Unfortunately, the marriage of Don and Gwen didn’t went very well and finally ended up with divorce in 1954. All these incidents and the fact, that Don was always a workoholic resulted in alcoholism, he suffered from for almost 25 years ... creepingly getting worse and worse over the decades, reducing his ability to work increasingly and reaching its sad low point, visible to the outside, in the 1970s. As he was also a heavy smoker, he additionally developed a heart deasease. Burning the candle at both ends resulted in a heart attack in 1971, a serious physical collapse in 1978 and a quadruple bypass surgery in the early 1990s. That was quite a price to pay, but he always managed to pick himself up and keep going. After all, Donald O'Connor stayed down-to-earth and was beyond that one of the most versatile, charming, modest and sweetest gentlemen in Hollywood. ☆ Thankfully, Don found happiness with his lovely second wife Gloria Noble. She was the love of his life and the best that could have happened to him. Because of his addiction, they went through hard times, but she never let him down. Their marriage lasted over 46 years until his death in 2003, three children were born to them.

Dream team - Donald & Gloria at “Ciro’s” in 1956. They got married in October of the same year. ☆ Since I was a child, I’ve adored him as an excellent (tap) dancer, singer, comedian and actor. By the way, he was a great composer, too! Until 1955, at the age of 30, Donald had appeared in 45 (!) motion pictures [“Singin’ In The Rain" is #38!]. The press called him “the youngest old-timer in show business” at that time. That’s quite a statement of what had been accomplished by such a young man. In addition, his vaudeville background, successful TV shows during the 1950s and 1960s as well as a vast number of stage performances his entire life speak for themselves. It always seems to me that there was nothing Donald couldn’t do. In his later years, when the popularity of musicals slowly had faded away, Donald should have been managed better. After “Singin’ In The Rain” he never got a role again matching his extraordinary talent in this way, even if he made some wonderful movies in the 1950s, such as “Call Me Madam”. It wasn’t considered enough that he was a also a fine ‘serious’ actor, proved by his performances in the ‘Francis the Talking Mule” series or in ”The Buster Keaton Story” (although the script is awful and terribly incorrect!) and even in his early roles as a child. It makes me sad that Hollywood didn’t really know how to take advantage of his versatility. Unfortunately, he does not receive the credit he really deserves … he was so much more than 'Cosmo Brown'! ☆ Over the years, I’ve also developed profound respect and admiration for this wonderful man away from the spotlight. I’m fascinated by his real life achievement, kindness, honest modesty and willpower. Hopefully, someone will pay tribute to this endearing human being and unique artist, perpetuate his memory by writing down his life story. Maybe one (or more) of his four lovely children, Donna, Alicia, Donald Frederick or Kevin … … I could die happy then!

“I’m no longer a superstar. Now I’m working on being a quasar, because stars wear out. Quasars go on forever … I look for the parts where I die and they talk about me for the rest of the movie.” 1992

Happy Birthday Donald 💋 … You’ve always been my mentor and the light of my life, darling!

Keeping his legacy alive … le grá go deo ♡♡♡

(Photos on top show Donald O'Connor over the decades, in order 1930s - 2000s from left to right.)

#Donald O'Connor #Happy Birthday my love ♡♡♡!!!!#💖💗💖💓💖#what more could I say for now?!#this tribute finally got much longer as I planned ...#but he's absolutely worth it and deserves it so much!!!#THE LIGHT AND LOVE OF MY LIFE ♡♡♡#please give him a little love too!

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