#I CAN AND HAPPILY WILL GIVE AN ANALYSTS ON THIS

[sleeping-at-sea]

"Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart" by Mitski is Katsuki's song. Not Izuku's.

[thelaughtercafe]

Aoi, Mikan, and non despair! Junko finding out you're ticklish

Tea Type: Rose Boba

Potential Triggers: N/A

Pairing: Aoi/F! Reader, Mikan/F! Reader, Junko/F! Reader

Length: 608

Summary: N/A

Aoi Asahina:

Hina definitely finds out after you guys swim together. 

She’s playful, and still fired up even after such an intense workout, well, for you anyway.

She isn’t called the Ultimate Swimming Pro for nothing.

“You’re not nearly out of breath enough yet!! If Sakura was here she’d say we should keep going but…”

She smiles brightly.

“I don’t wanna kill you or anything- swimming can be really tough, or so my brother tells me. So instead!”

She claps happily, eyes sparkling mischievously. 

“Are you ticklish? I can just tickle you instead so you get a bit more out of our workout!”

You try to stammer in rejection but Hina isn’t gonna have it, sorry lol. 

A quick tickler, she likes to jump between spots and you’re so worn out you can barely even keep up, let alone fight back or retaliate. 

All you can do is laugh and squirm a little, so you do. 

“Wow! This is definitely working! Listen to how loud you are~”

She means well, I swear! 

Her aftercare is godtier too, will totally give you a non-ticklish massage to make up for wrecking you so suddenly. 

“Sorry if I got carried away; kinda couldn’t help it when you looked all cute and blushy haha…”

Mikan Tsumiki:

Mikan finds out when tending to a wound you have. This is pure self-indulgence for me but let’s say Nagito’s luck “backfired” and left you with a small cut on your stomach. Y'all were cooking and he was cutting the vegetables and when he swung his arm out- whoops. Thankfully, you backed up so it was surface level but Mikan is panicking anyway. You didn’t miss the twinkle in Nagito’s eyes as he sent you off and told you to “enjoy yourself”. 

You brushed it off as him being weird as usual but when you got to the hospital with Mikan, and she goes to touch the area around the wound it clicks. 

You curse him under your breath as you look away to hide the grin that breaks across your lips as her gentle touch tickles like Hell. She puts a bandaid over the wound after making sure it’s not in need of more severe treatment but when she pulls down your shirt you totally slip up and squeal before a laugh escapes. 

You were gonna strangle Nagito later. 

Mikan, for her part, smiles sweetly up at you as she stands. 

“I didn’t know you were ticklish! That’s so cute! Can I?”

She asks you flat out, all polite so you just nod in shock. 

She’s careful around your tummy even with how small the wound is and you find out Mikan, of everyone on the island, has a sadistic streak. 

She apologizes profusely after, getting you water and letting you catch your breath but damn. 

“Your laughter is just so pretty!! I’m sorry, please don’t hate me!”

She quickly runs out and you’re too tired to pursue. 

…Maybe you won’t kill Nagito after all. Maybe.

Junko Enoshima:

Honestly, I think Junko would put it together before she does it- like Byakuya. 

She’s got the Ultimate Analyst talent after all; she notices the small reactions you have with others and herself. 

Thinks it’s fucking adorable 

Initiates it when she notices how sad you are one day, I think she’d bide her time, rather than striking as soon as she knows. 

When she does though? Oof she’s a mean ler. Her analyst talent ensures she already knows all your worst spots but she wants to hear you tell her anyway. 

“Aw come on, it can’t be that hard right? I’m not even really trying, you know? Maybe you should try being less ticklish!”

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

For the request game!

Fall With Me - The Wild Reeds

SVT

Enemies to lovers

Ahhhhhh omg ok. Since no member was specified im gonna just choose one :) Warnings: a bad kiss is discussed, also they do make out, lawyer!jeonghan and he's a menace as per usual

The annual best friends’ trip would be going much better if it weren’t for the presence of a certain attorney.

The first time you’d met Yoon Jeonghan had been during a dizzying cross-examination of your expert information in a high-profile criminal case. As a forensic speech-pattern analyst, you had taken your job as an expert witness to testify against an almost-certainly guilty extortionist very seriously, but Jeonghan had managed to twist every one of your facts to the advantage of the man, creating just enough reasonable doubt to get the man off with a slap on the wrist.

You had sworn to hate the handsome, smooth-talking defense attorney for as long as you lived -- so imagine your shock when your friend had brought him along with the group as her plus-one because her boyfriend couldn’t make it. As her cousin, and the closest male relative she had, he was more than happy to tag along, he’d said. 

And now you watch him across the room, schmoozing over your friends, unable to break it to them that he was the evil attorney that you’d complained about for weeks after the trial.

What was even worse about it was that he kept catching your eye from where he sat playing cards with your childhood friends, framed in the big windows like an angel wreathed in light, his fine features sly and knowing, more and more aggravating with every glance. You knew he remembered you by the way his eyes lit with recognition as they’d taken in all the faces in the spacious cabin. You groan internally -- this man must be your own personal demon, sent to torture you for some long-forgotten sin. And he just has to look good while doing it, doesn’t he?

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” your friend Seokmin says, suddenly.

“Oh!” you exclaim, turning back toward him with a sheepish look, but he’s grinning at you.

“You aren’t the only one staring at him,” he says. “Look at Juliette.”

Sure enough, your old college roommate is eyeing Jeonghan in interest. You know that look -- she’s going to do something she’ll probably regret later if she doesn’t get distracted soon. A part of you wonders why it always seems to be down to you to prevent disaster as you excuse yourself from Seokmin with a hurried excuse, making your way over to Juliette with a request for some snowshoeing in the newly-fallen snow outside.

But of course, the odds are not in your favor today. Jeonghan stands up, tossing in his cards after what you clock as his third poker win today. “I’d better quit while I’m ahead,” he says, and then looks up at you. “Did you say something about snowshoeing?”

Well, you can’t exactly lie to his face while all your friends are looking at you expectantly, so you give him a curt nod. “Can I come?” he asks, and there is an amused undertone to his voice that brings your already-hot temper to a boiling point.

Juliette answers first. “Of course!” she chirps, and you have no choice but to trudge into the mud room with them, your jaw set in a hard line and your eyes flashing. You suit up wordlessly while the other two make flirty conversation, somehow growing even more peeved as you listen to them. 

Finally, you’re walking out into the calm, quiet forest, the snowshoes keeping your boots from sinking into the deep layer of snow frosted over the ground. You find yourself trailing behind Jeonghan and Juliette, listening to them chatter happily together, for the entirety of the hike, only finding a brief moment of relief from the anger when you pause at an overlook. Here, white-dusted fir trees spill by the thousands down a steep incline that leads to a small valley, and the sun slowly sinking seems to light everything in a pinkish glow. It’s breathtaking. You can’t help but smile.

Except for when you turn and catch a glimpse of Jeonghan staring at you.

His expression is mirroring your own: complete awe, a dumbfounded smile, eyes wide as though afraid he won’t be able to take it all in. Except he’s not looking at the view — he’s looking at you.

Juliette notices and makes a lame excuse for why she needs to head back to the cabin, ignoring your protests and leaving you alone with Jeonghan. “You remember me, don’t you?” he asks instantly when she’s out of earshot. 

“Of course I do,” you say, bristling. “Liar.”

He chuckles, and you hate how cute he is when he’s laughing at you. “It’s actually ‘lawyer’, but that’s an easy mistake,” he says, unbothered by your venom.

“Look,” you say, trying to keep a moderate tone, “in case it wasn’t already clear, I really don’t like you.”

“Why not?” he asks innocently. “Because I’m good at my job?”

“Because you helped a guilty person escape justice!” you say loudly. A raven in a nearby tree takes off in fear.

His face seems to harden a little. “Tell me what you know about the defendant.”

This request takes you aback. “I don’t know anything about him,” you tell Jeonghan. “Other than his speech patterns and what they indicate.”

He looks at your face — seeming to debate with himself for a moment. Then he speaks. “He is the only caretaker for both his elderly mother, who is blind, and a young daughter still undergoing treatments for an aggressive cancer. The company he worked for was scamming its employees out of money, so he pulled a clever scam back and was able to make enough off of it to pay for his daughter to be treated at a top hospital and for his mother to have a seeing-eye dog. If he went to jail, where would they be?”

The information you’re receiving weighs on you heavily as you listen to him, and you feel your face burn with a guilty flush. “I had no idea.”

He nods shortly. “Not everything is as black-and-white as you think.”

He begins to walk away, back toward the cabin, and you have no choice but to follow him. As you enter the mud room again, stripping off your snow clothed and hanging them to dry, Jeonghan gives a soft chuckle. “Were you really that mad?”

“Yeah,” you admit, allowing him a small smile although your ego is still a bit bruised. “You made me sound like an idiot in court. I’m quite good at my job, you know.” You internally cringe at self. Why do you feel the need to justify yourself to him?

He nods in understanding. “I know you are. And you’re cute, too.”

This boldness shocks you into silence, and he gives a small giggle that almost undoes you.  “I wanted to talk to you after trial, but the look on your face was…”

“Radiant?” you say, recovering quickly with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, you were certainly radiating something,” he allows. “I was scared you’d bite me.”

You laugh. Time to play his game, you think. “I still haven’t ruled it out.” 

You saunter past him as his jaw drops, taking a seat beside Seokmin and letting out a deep sigh. There’s still a nagging tension in the air though, especially when Jeonghan stations himself across the room from you with his cousin and some other friends, only to meet eyes with you every few minutes with a sparkle of curiosity in his wide eyes.

As night falls, the lights dim. One by one, people start excusing themselves to go to bed, until it’s just a gaggle of you left, you and Jeonghan included. You keep expecting Jeonghan to get up and go to bed -- you noticed on the first night of the trip that he tires easily and usually is in bed earlier than the rest of your friends -- but he never does. Instead, the air gets thicker as Jeonghan moves next to you on the couch, as nonchalant as anything, and you feel your cheeks heating up. Eventually he turns to you as the others become engrossed in their own conversation.

“So, if you knew that today was the last day of your life —“

“Are you serious?” you groan. “I’m disappointed in you.”

He looks indignant and taken aback. “Well, I’m trying to get to know you,” he says defensively.

“Yeah, but you’re asking the manic-pixie-dreamboy questions,” you tell him. “Start with something normal, and then maybe I’ll tell you my hamartia or whatever.”

He bites his bottom lip. “Uh, okay. What made you want to be a speech pathologist?”

“That’s much better,” you commend him. “And I actually have a little brother who grew up with a speech impediment that made him difficult to understand, and I spent my whole childhood translating him for others. So I guess it was something I knew I could do. Plus it was interesting to know how to help similar kids.” 

Jeonghan nods. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What made you want to be a lawyer?” you shoot back.

His response is immediate. “I’m a master manipulator, and I wanted to make a lot of money. It seemed like the logical choice.”

You can’t help but laugh. “That’s the reddest red flag I’ve ever heard,” you say. “I should be running for the hills.”

“So why aren’t you?” he asks with a sly smile. 

“Must be colorblind,” you say dryly. “But it’s actually because master manipulators usually aren’t so upfront with their gifts.”

He grins. “Well, I really am good at … influencing people, to a degree. But I guess I became a criminal defense attorney to broaden my view on humanity. There are people I’ve represented in court that I would hate to be alone with, and yet somehow I’ve learned that they all have a level of humanity that would surprise most people. They weren’t all good people, but they were all still people. And I think that’s made me a better person overall.”

You grin to hide how impressed you are. “And the money is good too.”

He nods. “Well, obviously.”

This earns a giggle from you, and Jeonghan turns his body to face yours. For the next three hours, you talk about everything, even as the last of the stragglers disappear with tired farewells into their bedroom. Finally, it’s just you and Yoon Jeonghan, sitting at opposite ends of a broad brown couch, laughing about one of your awkward dating stories. 

“And after all that,” you say, wiping a tear of derision and amusement from your eye, “he has the nerve to kiss me!”

Jeonghan’s eyes go wide. “Did he ask first?” he asks. 

“Well, yeah,” you say.

“Why did you say yes?!” he groans through laughter. 

“I was so taken aback! And also, he was pretty hot,” you admit.

He looks at you skeptically. “If I asked you a question, would you answer honestly?”

“Depends on the question.”

“Give me just this one,” he pleads.

“Okay,” you say, giving in easily at the sight of his puppy eyes.

“Was he hotter than me?” he asks.

Your jaw drops. “Yoon Jeonghan.”

“You said you’d answer the question honestly,” he reminds you.

You begrudgingly consider him. “You’re hotter,” you finally answer, glad he probably can’t see you blush in this low light.

He nods, satisfied. “Okay, go on. What happened next?”

You laugh at the nonchalant way he’s handled this news. “Oh, he was a terrible kisser. All of those looks just for him to have no sensitivity at all. Jammed his tongue down my throat and everything.”

“You should’ve told him no,” he says quietly, moving almost imperceptibly closer.

“I really should’ve. Anyway, that was actually the most recent kiss I’ve had, so my experiences with kissing are all being viewed through that lens, and it’s kind of ruined for me now.” You make a face as you remember the date, and the associated kiss. By the time your shudder brings you back down to earth, Jeonghan has moved just one inch closer on the couch. You pretend not to notice.

He pins you with his gaze, though. “Are you being coy on purpose?” he asks through narrowed eyes, making another small move in your direction.

“What do you mean?” you ask him, suddenly nervous.

“We’re alone, and you openly admitted I’m hotter than the last guy you kissed --”

“After you coerced me into telling you,” you interject, amused.

“And now you’re talking about how bad he was at kissing,” Jeonghan finishes, undeterred. “Tell me what kind of conclusion I’m supposed to draw from that.” And with that, he closes the gap between you, moving so close that your thighs are touching.

You look into his eyes. This was a plot twist you didn’t see coming -- you hadn’t been able to figure out why he’d stuck around when everyone started going to bed, but his reasons for doing so were becoming more and more clear, and although you woke up this morning as his sworn enemy, you have a feeling that everything has changed.

So you stare, wanting to fall, but also wanting to stay in this moment, right here, contemplating the risk. Maybe you’ve got it wrong -- it’s certainly possible. But maybe, just maybe, you’ve run out of options for things to say, leaving just the one thought you had when he’d moved closer and asked you to tell him what to think.

“Well, you’re the lawyer,” you finally answer, barely above a soft whisper. “Figure it out.”

You catch a hint of a smile before Jeonghan’s hands are reaching up to cradle your face, bringing your lips gently, but ever so insistently, to his own. 

His lips are soft and light on your own, a massive upgrade from the clumsy kisses of whoever had come before. You can’t remember that man, nor anyone else, for that matter. You barely register the feeling of the coarse couch cushions beneath you, sinking under your combined weight as Jeonghan pulls you onto his lap to continue the kiss. The light brush of his tongue over your bottom lip has you reaching for him hungrily, pulling him closer to you so you can feel his heart beating against your own.

It takes a particularly loud squeak from the couch for the both of you to realize how loud you were being. You both freeze and look at the stairs, terrified that one of your friends has caught you, before you both realize and explode into quiet giggles, pressing your foreheads together.

“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” you ask him breathlessly.

“I could never fall asleep with you in the same room as me,” he replies with a wicked grin.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery

warnings: blowjobs, Rays dream from ghostbusters, swearing, suggestive comments from peter

AN: happy 72nd birthday to Dan aykroyd! Story under the cut!

ray moaned under me as I licked up his shaft. His head fell back against the pillows, his chin tilted up as he brow furrowed. His hands gripped the bedsheet as I took him into my mouth.

“(Y/N).” Ray breathed out. “Oh fuck. Yes.” I pulled back and sucked on his head. “I can’t…I won’t…” he arched his back, forcing more of his dick into my mouth. I reached up and pushed his T-shirt up, gently running my nails over his stomach. I hummed as my fingers made contact with his chest hair. Ray moaned and bucked his hips as I licked around his shaft. Sucking as I pulled back, ray tossed his head to the side. “Please.” He whimpered. I continued at the pace I had set, watching him through my eyelashes. Ray was gasping for breath, his brow pulled tight as he thrust up into my mouth before cumming. He moaned my name as he did, making me smile as I pulled off him. I carefully tucked him back into his boxers and pulled his shirt back down. Ray sighed before turning on his side, searching for me in his sleep. I breathed a sigh of relief as I moved up the bed and curled up next to him. Ray hummed happily as his arm wrapped lazily around me. I kissed his cheek before falling asleep. The next morning, I woke up to an empty bed. I could hear rays voice drifting up from the kitchen.

“I’m telling you ray. There’s more to this than you think.” Peter said. I could hear ray scoff. “I’m no dream analyst but I do have that doctorate in psychology. If you keep having this dream, and I do mean more often than once or twice a week, there has to be something to it.” Peter looked up at me as I walked in the room. Hugging ray, I pressed a kiss to the back of his head as his arms came up to hold mine to him.

“hey.” I whispered sleepily. He took my hand and kissed the back of it.

“hey.” He whispered back. “Sleep well?” I nodded against him before breaking away to grab a cup of coffee.

“you?” I asked. I saw Peter shaking his head at ray who rolled his eyes.

“(Y/N) knows about the dreams. They have since I started having them.” Ray explained. “I had another dream last night. The one where the ghost that looks like you blows me.” I nodded as I turned around and leaned against the counter.

“yeah.” I said, nodding at him to continue.

“And I…” ray coughed and blushed as he glanced at Peter. “Finished…but there was no evidence of it when I woke up.” I nodded. “So unless you changed me, which would have woken me up, or these dreams are just hyper realistic.” I snorted into my coffee cup and ray frowned. “What?”

“ray, you aren’t dreaming. Well not fully.” I said with a laugh. “Whenever you have that dream, I’m blowing you. In real life. In the middle of the night.” Rays eyebrows went up and his mouth dropped into an o. Peter started laughing.

“Raymond you dog! you can even get it in your sleep!” He laughed. I bit my lip to keep from smiling but failed. Ray looked over at me with a small smile, blushing as Peter hit him on the arm.

“he’s not wrong.” I said. Ray shook his head and got up. He hugged me as Peter got up and headed to the lab. “Sorry to spoil your dream.” I whispered, putting my cup down and burying my fingers into his hair.

“that doesn’t matter.” Ray shrugged. “I’m just glad that I’ve finally found out what is going on. Made me feel like I wasn’t being faithful to you. Even if the ghost looked like you.” I cupped his cheek and kissed him gently.

“I can’t be jealous of a ghost. Especially if it looks like me.” I said. “Besides, it’s a lot of fun to watch you get off. And don’t worry about returning the favor. You’ve always been more giving nights after you’ve had that dream.” Ray blushed deeper and tried to duck his head. I held his head up and kissed him again.

“(Y/N).” He whined when I pulled away. I smiled at him and kissed him again. The alarm went off and ray moved to pull away from me.

“I look forward to seeing you later tonight Raymond!” I called after him. He nodded bashfully before dropping down the firepole.

[elizakai]

revealing my true analyst self 😪💫

When it comes to media I enjoy I get so much brain-rot, and zuchiyeni’s idol! Au has been plaguing me, so I thought I’d share for anyone mildly interested. And I’m definitely totally not procrastinating.

these are just headcanons (?) and ideas mwaha.

I WANT TO TALK ABOUT IDOL DREAM✨ because it’s dream.

(⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️)

VOICE WISE , I think it’s pretty universal in fandom to imagine dream’s voice as more ✨feminine✨ (correct me if I’m wrong).

But an au that contains SINGING provides OPPORTUNITY. See, Dream’s well known , recognizable, popular, surely he is unique in some way. “Pretty voice” is Great and all, But he gives me ‘actually talented vocalist’ vibes. like. Imagine he’s got this really pretty atmospheric voice, pretty normal idea. Now ELEVATE THAT. Imagine he has the vocal capacity to be gritty. I’d ASSUME that’s not their music style typically (I have no idea what their music will be like to be clear) but just the ABILITY. To be really raw and powerful. And it comes out sometimes *ascends* that makes it more interesting imo. He’s sweet, mipy cinnamon roll. But boy could keep up with like a metal band if he wanted. That’s just equally funny and amazing.

I have example ideas but I’ll leave that out unless someone wants em so that this isn’t torture text to read hhhhh.

I just. Have brain worms at this point. If you’re still reading this, kudos.💀💫

My brain is also convinced that dream gets passionate in that way when he’s absorbed in emotions rather than performance. Like, if he’s invested in a song, he sometimes disassociates. That’s when the most impressive performances happen either way, I imagine ink and blue let it happen and just keep an eye on him. subtly snap him out of it afterwards.

ONE MORE THING I PROMISE I’ll stop.

He really likes Error. As a celebrity. I have an explanation I promise. Original Dreamtale Dream, according to the creator, has a respect for error. INTERESTING, right? You’d think their opposing morals would suggest otherwise?

This is ME interpreting (SIDE TANGENT)⚠️

But maybe Dream sees some of himself, or understands Error despite not interacting much. The both have a conviction, a belief, and they adhere to/ act on that. …alone. ERROR is convinced that alternates of the original world are bad, so he’s convicted to take care of it. It’s HIS responsibility in his mind. And the task is IMPOSSIBLE. he knows that deep down. But he tries, and he's all alone in it.

DREAM has been conditioned to believe that his worth/ purpose/ existence all ties back to making sure everyone is happy. That’s IMPOSSIBLE. But, he’s convicted of this as his sole purpose. So he tries. And he knows it’s impossible. And he’s all alone in it. They are both just isolated. So while dream doesn’t necessarily agree with him, specifically his erm, methods. (Cause dream DOES understand balance and probably can somewhat understand his pov) he doesn’t hate him, he has RESPECT. EVEN MORE INTERESTING IF YOU INCLUDE INK. He may align with Inks values MORE than Errors. He’s respectful towards and works together with Ink. But I think Ink has lost his respect. It’s confirmed that in dreamtale, dream and ink have some sort of falling out. There’s broken trust. Imagining inks response to dream not disliking error as much as he should is interesting. Lmao ig they both have drama with ink. (END SIDE TANGENT)⚠️

ANYWAYS. Back to applying this to Idol! Error strikes me as a more ‘senior’ idol. I’m just imagining dream enjoys watching his performances and keeping up with his fanbase, just. Happily watching interviews and listening to his music sometimes. <3 Does he entirely emulate him? no X) he just liked him. And if he takes notes sometimes, that’s his business.

ink: ‘REALLY? THIS GUY? He’s an Asshole!!!’

dream: *sighs dreamily* yeah…

meanwhile blue probably has managed to casually say hi to the guy and make friends. Dreams too shy. An interaction would be very awkward. But an colab would be an drEaM come true .(wow! So funny!) Ink half heartedly hating the guy.

also I’m JUST saying.

Error. Dream. messed up. sleep.

Insomnia. I JUST. Like the idea. *evaporates* if I count as a fan, the fans want a colab >:(

I’m going to assume we all already are guessing dream and nightmare have some sort of drama🤪. I really like the idea of the MT.trio and The Stars performing together , despite probably being rivals, but I wonder if MT.trio looking up to Nightmare would affect that. Like, depending on how the twins feel towards each other, Nm might be like ‘avoid dat biatch’ and the trio is like ‘yes yes, very bad’ 😪✨ (also if what are their FANBASES like???? Like interacting with each other?? Drama much?) also I guess this could apply to Error. Is he a rival to nightmare? Are they friendly? Either way, does he care much about nightmares opinion? If they are RIVALS him interacting with dream and crew is funny.

(I imagine blue is friends with like everyone anyway. And ink probably would tolerate him if he had to.) but If nightmare is negative towards dream, and Error is a friend of his, it’s kind of great imagining Error just being chill and aloof but mentally assessing dream when they interact, keeping in mind what nightmare has said. Next time nightmare complains about his brother errors like ‘lol ur little bro seems perfectly normal but ok hoe B)’ *proceeds to hang with both of them*

(god it’s longer than I wanted ahem.)

ANYWAYS.

I NEED TO STOP GOODBYE NOW :) these are all just goofy ideas and now I need to actually go be productive at 2 am.

I like discussing silly things so like, feel free if you somehow read to the bottom💀.

Idol! Dream by @tuxibirdie

Idol! Au by/ belongs to @zucchiyeni

dead brain cells by @ me.

[bloodboonfic]

Analyst(hopeful) asked:

Hey a while back somewhere around chapter 20 you said you were a bit over halfway done. Where are you now by comparison? I also believe you said that you have more plot points to hit rather than a chapter count, so unfortunately you likely don’t have a chapter count for how much is left. Oh well for anticipation purposes. Don’t worry I’m pretty sure I am guilty of the same thing regarding chapter count.

Also I have a writing question. I ask this to most other writers because it makes me want to pull my hair out and I am always trying to improve especially if I want to actually publish something one day fan-fiction or otherwise. How do you prefer to plot? 

I do have a question about your ideas about piglin fire tolerance in regards to Bloodboon. I’ve seen most writers chose the route of they still burn and some elaborate a bit more and chose the they still burn it just takes a bit longer than a human and their skin is a bit thicker. I prefer the second option because it makes sense.

I am currently less overwhelmed by questions right now. I am more overwhelmed by the amount of whump you are throwing Technoblade’s way. It hurts. Like all of his subconscious knowledge and conscious knowledge that he can’t make Philza happy and can’t keep the only friend he’s ever had because it is totally not a fair relationship coming to the front of his mind all the time and making him absolutely miserable. That water comparison of yours in the last chapter to tie strings so we could see his line and course of thinking was amazing. I hope it ends happily. 

Also update on my au that I keep running into plot issues which I fixed but… Apparently after some research …I think like someone with more minecraft background than I actually have and I’m actually a little disappointed. Nothing new under the sun I guess or I’ve already read too much minecraft fan fiction, specifically emduo.

~~~

The fic is at the end of the middle, I’d say. Techno and Philza still have one more Event until their friendship meter is maxed out. I suspect the whole fic will come to be just shy of 40 chapters.

Uhhh I don’t like, actively plot? It just sorta happens? When I have an idea, it usually kicks off as a premise, then Events come up, and then I think of connective tissue between the Events. And once it all has stewed in my brain for long enough, I put it down as a bullet point list, then move the bullets around so that Events with causality relations are in chronological order (eg. the scene at the flight range can’t happen before Philza’s feathers grow back), and then move the floater Events (eg. Philza interacting with a pigling child can happen whenever) so that the pacing becomes nice. I try to alter between chill and intense bits, to give the story the chance to breathe. Too much chill is dull and too much intense is exhausting, you gotta go back and forth. And also sometimes things Just Happen, Philza’s breakdown in Ch 11 was completely unplanned, it just Became. And then sometimes you need 500 more words to get acceptable posting length so whelp time for Techno to wax philosophical about bread or whatever.

Also I Can Not write non-chronologically. Scenes are written in the order in which they happen, unless there comes a realisation after the fact that Something needed to happen earlier. I’m pretty sure most people hop around instead of going strictly in order? But that does not agree with the shape of my brain.

I think piglins having higher fire tolerance than humans makes sense. If you live in a hellpit, you adapt or you die.

Yeah Techno’s not having a good time lately huh? Guess stealing a person does not have great long-term results! /j

Not sure what to say to your last point, but in any case, would be stoked to give your AU a read come time of posting!

-Anchestor

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

I am always safe with you...

For the amazing @simplybombshell​ and @onemoreparadise​ , inspired by their works (X) (X)

In Cambridge, Massachusetts lived the Thompson-Spencer family.

They were a family who lived quietly and happily, enjoying every moment together.

This home consisted of a male couple, Jonathan Spencer and his husband, Alistair Thompson, and their adopted son, Elliott.

Jonathan worked as a quantitative analyst in a high-technology company in Boston. Efficient and competent, he was considered one of the best people in the company.

Meanwhile, Alistair was an American studies teacher at Harvard University. Recognised for his broad general knowledge and his pedagogy, his students and colleagues appreciated him.

In addition to teaching, he has written articles in academic journals and participated in conferences.

As for Elliott, who was a thirteen years old boy, he studied at the Boston Latin Academy.

He was a sweet boy, dreamy and very bright.

All three shared a close bond and enjoyed their lives together.

But today, Elliott would have liked to be somewhere other than in front of his blank paper. He had only his English essay to do, but he was not inspired.

The boy was annoyed: he had to hand in this essay at the next English class, which was in five days.

The subject didn't seem complicated, though. It was entitled: Feeling Safe.

It was a short subject but not an easy one to tackle.

Elliott felt discouraged: this bloody exercise was wasting his time!

"Elliott! Let's eat!" called his father.

The young boy got up and went downstairs to join his parents.

He sat down at the table and began to eat as his father Alistair asked him:

"So, have you finished your lessons?"

"Almost: I've still got an English essay to do."

"An essay? And what is the subject?" asked Jonathan.

"Feeling safe."

The two men looked at each other, quite surprised.

"Now, that's an interesting topic. There's a lot to say about it. And have you made any progress on your essay?" inquired Jonathan.

"No, that's just it: I can't find the right words."

"Why didn't you come to us for help earlier? I could have given you a hand," replied Alistair.

"I know, but I know you, Dad: you would do my whole paper. And my teacher would suspect something..."

"Eli is right, Alistair: when a subject raises your interest, you cannot help disserting on it as you do with your teaching sessions at university!" chuckled Mr Spencer.

"What can I say? This is professional deformation." smirked his husband before turning to Elliott.

"To answer your question, Eli, let me give you some advice: ask yourself how you feel safe. What makes you believe that nothing can happen to you? Is there anything that comforts you when you feel low? Think about it, and you might find the answer!"

Elliott nodded, his neurons already starting to find ideas for his essay.

"I'll do that. Who knows: it will inspire me?"

"In the meantime, finish your plate: it'll get cold!"

The meal continued in good spirits, and then Elliott returned to his room and wrote down all the ideas that came to mind on paper.

Then, he went to sleep: he would work on this essay tomorrow!

⏰⏰⏰

The next day.

Like yesterday, Elliott sat in front of his desk, ready to write his essay. This time, the young boy knew what to write.

And as he began to write the first lines of his essay, the young boy felt the inspiration coming to him. The more he wrote, the better he felt about his work: he was sure to get a good grade.

When he finished his assignment, the teenager reread his work to ensure he wrote everything correctly and had not missed any spelling mistakes.

Satisfied, he carefully placed his paper in a plastic bag and put it in his bag before tackling his maths exercises.

The teenager looked forward to showing his work to his parents when he received the grade.

Meanwhile, Alistair and Jonathan were in the living room, working: the quantitative analyst wrote a report on his computer while the teacher corrected papers.

Jonathan looked up from his screen and asked his husband:

"Do you have a lot of work to do?"

The teacher sighed:

"Don't mention it! I've got fifty essays to correct on the Gothic novel in Britain and France in 19th century, and I can't see the end of it! I would finish correcting these by Friday, so I don't have to work at the weekend."

Alistair asked:

"What about you? Are you managing to write that report?"

"Yes, but it's a bit tedious. At least once I've done it, I'll be free for the weekend!"

He added with a smile:

"Which gives me an idea..."

"You and your creativity! What do you have planned?" chuckled Alistair.

"Nothing extravagant..."

Jonathan put his arm around his husband's shoulders.

"I was thinking, Friday night, we could order food and have a movie night. A little night with just the three of us. What do you think?"

"It sounds tempting, and it's been a while since we've done anything together," Alistair agreed, resting his head on his partner's shoulder.

The analyst added:

"Besides, it's been a long time since we didn't spend quality time with Elliott. I don't want our son to feel cast away !"

"Eli is a cunning boy: he knows we all have a lot of work. He will love your idea: I can feel it!"

Little did the two men know that Elliott had a surprise planned for Friday night. And he hoped they would like it.

⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅

On Friday, late afternoon.

As he pushed open the door to his house, Elliott had a smile on his face: it was finally the weekend! But it wasn't just the prospect of rest that put the young boy in a good mood: so far, his surprise went just as he had planned.

His enthusiasm didn't escape his fathers.

"Hi, sweetie. How was your day?" asked Alistair.

"It was good, but I wanted to go home."

"Tell me about it!"

"And did you get any grades? Any homework?" requested Jonathan.

"Yes. Remember my Feeling Safe essay? I got the grade today!"

"Ah yes, that famous essay! Verdict?"

Elliott's smile widened.

"I got an A+."

"You did? Well done, my little writer!" the analyst smiled, kissing his son on the forehead.

"This is something to celebrate. What should we order for dinner? Italian or Indian? Unless you want Chinese food?" suggested the teacher.

"Pizza!" the teenager exclaimed, making his parents laugh.

"Go for the pizza !" smiled Alistair as he dialled the local pizzeria to order the menu.

Thirty minutes later, their order arrived, and the family prepared to eat their dinner when Elliott asked:

"Before we eat, do you want to read my essay ?"

"Well, why not? Let's see what you did !"

Elliott picked up his essay and handed it to his parents, who saw the A+ mark written in bright red.

They read the comment from the teacher:

Excellent work, with personal and moving elements. Keep up the good work!

"Well, well: being complimented by Mr Cooper is an achievement!" smirked Jonathan.

"I am the only student in my class to get an A+ on this homework!"

"That is a double achievement !" whistled Alistair.

The two men started to read the essay.

Feeling Safe by Elliott Spencer-Thompson.

"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person; having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away."

"How cute! He quotes an author, just like his dad !" joked Jonathan.

"Stop teasing me and continue to read !" replied Alistair with a smile.

"Your wish is my command, darling !" replied his husband as he pursued the reading.

In this quote, George Eliot expressed one of the main goals in men's life: feeling safe.

We feel safe when we come home, especially when our loved ones surround us.

This need for safety, whether physical or psychological, is a distant echo of the survival instinct of our prehistoric ancestors. You can't survive for long if you don't find people to count on.

We seek shelter from what might harm us since our first days.

Our innocence makes us believe that nothing can happen to us because we have not yet experienced the disillusionment and cruelty of the world.

I thought I would always be safe because my biological parents were there for me.

I didn't try to understand when my mother asked me to play a game: to close my eyes and count to thirty. My father promised me a surprise if I did it.

I obeyed, and I got my surprise: the surprise of not seeing my parents anymore.

From then on, all my certainties collapsed: not all adults protect you. Sometimes they abandon you.

It is a hard lesson to learn for a four-year-old boy.

It took me a long time to relearn how to feel that sensation of being loved.

Today I can say that I feel safe.

No doubt people will ask me: what does it mean to me to feel safe?

For me, feeling safe is many things at the same time.

I feel safe when my dad Jonathan said he loves me.

I feel safe because my dad Alistair watches over me when I am sick.

 I feel safe because they take me in their arms when I'm upset or sad.

I feel safe because when I cried at night, remembering the awful day my biological parents left me alone in a crowd, they rushed to my side, promising to always be there for me.

I feel safe because they teach me so many things. It can go from the behaviour in society to my cultural knowledge.

I feel safe because they taught me to trust and tell them everything.

I feel safe because they helped to become a good man.

I don't forget I have friends I trust and love, but nothing is more important than my parents.

I know some people disapprove that two men could raise a child.

We might not share genes, but we share a love, respect and trust bond.

I don't want any other family than the two men who gave me their last names and added me to their lives.

That's why I am eager to come home after school because, every time I cross the threshold of my house, I immediately feel better.

And it started when I hear their voices saying "Welcome Home".

I hope when I become an adult, I will provide the family I will create the same feeling of safety and love my parents provided me.

To conclude, I would say that feeling safe is an incredible luck I am grateful to have, thanks to my parents. Because with them, I will always feel safe.

Elliott began worrying when he saw tears shining in his fathers' eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Jonathan hastened to answer, wiping his eyes:

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. It's a lot of emotions all at once!"

"How did you write all this?" asked Alistair.

The teenager shrugged, a little embarrassed.

"When I told you I was struggling with this essay, you suggested I ask myself what made me feel safe. I thought about it, and I knew the answer."

Elliott smiled shyly.

"I remembered the day when the social worker told me people wanted to adopt me. I was so scared! Then, I saw you, and something inside me told me I could go with you. I will always be grateful to give a new start!"

"Come here, you !" exclaimed Alistair, who hugged his son, joined by Jonathan.

The family of three enjoyed the hug before parting.

Alistair ran a hand through his son's hair.

"Your essay proved that we did our job as your parents. It is the least we can do for you."

"You changed our lives forever and in the best way. With you, we are a family," added Jonathan as he kissed his son.

"Something we waited for a long time," nodded the teacher as he wiped his tears.

Alistair glanced at the pizzas.

"Oh my! The pizza must be cold now!"

"Because you cried on it!" joked his husband.

"You cried too!"

Elliott laughed at his parents' banter.

It was these moments that makes him feel good, like sharing a relaxing evening with his two dads.

These moments make him feel safe and loved.

Thanks for reading the story !

I hope you enjoyed it!

Feel free to request !

Take care of you! 😘😊😊🥰

Tag: @marilynmonroefanfics​ 

[v3nusxsky]

Hi Darling, long time no see. 😉 A little birdie told me you were looking for a Jemily prompt. Well, here's one:

Emily and JJ have a little daughter, right, and her middle name is Penelope because Garcia is her godmother, and her first name could be Rosalyn after JJ's older sister who committed suicide. So it would be Roslyn penelope (Prentiss? Idk) Anway, Pen offers to watch over Rosalyn because it's Em and JJ's anniversary. So, Pen decides that her and Rosalyn are gonna make a cake and card for JJ and Em but end up making a huge ass mess, right. And then when Em and JJ go to pick up Rosalyn, they see that she is covered in marker or cake, whatever, and are like, "wtf is this shit?? Pen, we left you alone with her for like, 4 hours..??." But then there is a wholesome family moment we're Rosalyn gives her mommies their anniversary card and Em and JJ just melt for their little girl and love her so much

Ok, I hope you enjoy the promot, my love 😉

~👋

My Little Lady

*Author note~ okay so I completely love this sm and had to run straight away to write it. Changed the name of the daughter so I’m curious to see if you can get my reasons why, 👋you’re exempt! Feel free to guess in my inbox*

Trigger Warning ~ none?

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

Since the birth of baby Poppy Rosé Prentiss Emily and JJ hadn’t really had much time to themselves, Emily returned back to work as the chief of the BAU while JJ stayed home with poppy. It was the wedding anniversary for the women and Emily was stressing over not being able to take JJ somewhere special, truly after the birth of their daughter JJ truly deserves it. Thankfully Penelope was always looking for the excuse to sneak some time with her god daughter so naturally she offered to sit pops so they could go have some very much needed adult time.

That was how JJ found herself dressed up to the nines, ready for a night with her wife while rechecking the changing bag for the sleeping baby. “Babe?! We gotta get going” Emily called for you before bringing the infant to settle in her arms. “Jay, I’m gonna go put princess Pops in her car seat” she murmured kissing the blondes cheek lovingly. “Come on then my sleeping princess let’s go get you all settled for aunty penny” she murmured to the raven haired baby.

The short drive to Garcias apparent was peaceful, your little family in their blissful glory. JJ couldn’t help her racing mind, she’d never left poppy before so being a new mother it was certainly something difficult to adjust too. Emily wasn’t faring much better, but working had gotten her use to the feelings that came with leaving her little family. Garcia would take great care of Poppy and it would be nice to have adult time, alone for their anniversary.

Dropping their daughter off, undoubtedly came with tears for JJ. But with some encouragement and kisses to her daughters little face she was persuaded into leaving. Hand in hand the two agents left the apartment, the infant cradled in the blonde tech analyst’s arms. “Who’s the most adorable little baby girl. Now what can we do while your mommy and momma are gone hmm?” She pondered rocking the sleeping child.

Poppy woke from her nap, to immediately smile at her god mother and babble happily. “Shall we go do some cooking my little lady?” And that’s exactly what she did, a simplistic cake letting her cover herself in the mixture and decorations. The little giggles she was making causing the blondes heart to swell. “Oh you are just so adorable little lady, your Auntie Garcias favourite lady” she murmured tickling you, delighting in the giggles and mindless babbles.

While the cake baked, Garcia had set up some paint and paper to make a happy anniversary card. She happily painted her little hands and feet to make imprints for the decoration on it. Happily signing the card from Poppy only to realise the baby was absolutely covered in mess but smiling so beautifully up at Garcia. But before she could clean the little baby up for her mothers they arrived to pick her up.

“Pj, what the heck is that” Emily muttered watching as Jay coed at the baby wriggling in her arms to reach her mommy. “Pops, you’re so messy my girl, were you good for auntie Garcia? “

“JJ, she was absolutely darling to sit, anytime literally any time I’ll happily look after my little cheeky angel, we had so much fun didnt we popsicle” Penelope murmured happily going to get the cake and card with the baby balanced on her hip, “come in you two love birds we got surprises!”

“Pops, hold this for mommy and momma, that’s it good girl” she praised the baby before coming in with the cake, card and baby. “Say happy anniversary mommies!” She giggled happily. “Oh baby girl! Is this all for us?” Jay Jay coed coming to hold her messy child. Emily got slightly emotional and kissed her daughter’s chubby cheek happily. “Thank you so much my princess Poppy” she murmured before thanking Garcia silently. Without Garcia she wouldn’t have been able to pull off the perfect anniversary for her wife.

Poppy giggled and clapped happily before bringing her sticky, paint covered hands to Emily’s cheeks. “Aw pops!” She mock whined causing JJ to laugh at her wife and daughter, the latter now being tickled and lifted into the air by her mother. “Princessssss momma is all stickyyyyyyyyyy” she whined before sitting back down with her baby. It was there that Garcia remembered when Emily ran off to fight Doyle and how she almost didn’t live to have her family. Truly seeing the happy family made her heart swell. After cleaning off their daughter they managed to settle her in her car seat and head home, their perfect little family was something truly worth fighting for.

[wildwinterlunas]

A bit of a voice of mediation. Hello, I am an anon bystander, watching this whole thing happen, and I'd just like to say to every theorist out there,

That it's okay.

It's okay to argue and counter point these topics and lore, as long as you know that in the long run that both sides just want the truth, and you're willing to fight for it with every scrap of evidence you have. As long as you mean no harm towards the other person, which I doubt you want to do intentionally. I understand that people are bound to get heated over something they're passionate about. That's admirable in it's own way.

This whole soldier ordeal made me think of Ace Attorney, which is an anime I think everyone should watch. It gives a great perspective on debates and theories. Remember theorists, even though we fight for the truth, sometimes battles are bound to get bloody. Remember that we are a community as a whole, of analysts who strive to understand a point. In the end, we stand together, even if the debate temporarily drives us apart.

As Miles Edgeworth once said (I think):

"Our job is to find truth, no matter how painful it may be."

I couldn't agree more!! I've stated before that I love having discussions and debates on this kind of thing and though I might come off as hostile (which I apologies for, I never mean to be hostile but I understand it can come off that way in text), I am always open to having discussions on these topics, and even though I might not agree with some theories it's always basic human decency to respect them. Whenever I say I disagree with a person, unless they are actually being intentionally harmful, I will never direct any personal ill will towards them.

I've mentioned this in passing but I want to bring it up again because I think it fits here. I have gotten a hate ask about one of my headcanon's before, I deleted it because I want to have discussions, not arguments. Whenever you see me interact with any kind of discord through an ask it's because I read that ask as actually wanting to start a conversation. My account is something I use to just... have fun. I love analyzing characters, storylines, tropes and cliques, and I know that getting into topics like that leads to differing opinions.

I would be lying if I said that my analysis's aren't influenced by my opinions. I try to remain neutral when it comes to characters I love and characters I love to hate, but I am human. That being said I am also influenced by other people's takes and the research I do for other people analysis.

Like with Ramattra, Wrecking Ball and Doomfist, initally they were characters I wasn't invested in, but then I started doing more resarch for other characters associated with them and got some more insight into their characters. Which as a result has gotten me invested in them.

People are constantly changing, opinions and debates often are altered with those changes.

Again the only time I will ever become hostile is when it's geninly something that perpetuates harm, and usually I will leave that isolated to my own page. Even then I'm going to have people who disagree and that's fine. As long as your not just insults, as long as your being a decent person and genuinely want to start a discussion then I will happily engage.

To any other theorists of analyzers out there, especially the ones that follow me, you don't have to agree with everything I say. We are all human and all have our own opinions. Hell, the reason I started posting Overwatch content on this account is because I disagreed with how Cassidy is characterized by the fandom!

Like this anon here said "even though we fight for the truth, sometimes battles are bound to get bloody."

[cicaklah]

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

I've answred both of these, but I can always give another answer to 18.

From all the women who've fallen before me were tipping the scales: “It’s your funeral,” the analyst says, and turns back to his worthless footnote of a life.

I'm also partial to the trope of ending on something I hope is emotionally devastating, so these endings are up there:

Time was she thought she would only ever be able to have this for a single night, but tomorrow the sun will rise and he will be there, and whatever they choose to do it won’t change the fact that there will always be tomorrow to try again.

Like I said. They don’t live happily ever after. No one does. But they do live.

He falls asleep easily, and when he wakes up, for as many days in his life as he is able, the sun is bright overhead, and she’s still there.

Agnes wanted to apologise, she did. She had so much to say; but there isn’t time anymore because they all die silently screaming into the vacuum of space, the universe cold and uncaring of what she wants, after all.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Masterpost

You can find me here on AO3 or on Discord at ghostinthelibrary. Anyone who would like to translate, remix, podfic, etc. my work has blanket permission. Just please credit me and send me a link so I can flail happily about it. I do not give permission for my work to be crossposted to Wattpad, Goodreads, etc. I do not give permission for my work to be fed to any AI programs such as ChatGPT, even if you don’t intend to publish the results.

Series

Undead Boys Detectives: Payneland with background Cryland, 3/? installments complete. Charles and Edwin return from Hell as living boys and have to deal with the consequences while hunting a dangerous spirit and dealing with their burgeoning feelings for each other.

Ministry of Supernatural Investigations: Payneland with eventual Palasaki, 4/? installments complete, 1 in progress. An AU where Edwin and Charles are partners working for an agency that solves supernatural crimes and are pining like crazy for each other.

A Case for the Dead Girl Detectives: Palasaki and Payneland, 2/? installments complete. A role reversal AU featuring Niko and Crystal as ghost detectives, Charles as a psychic, and Edwin as a student at Gray Wake who gets pulled into their orbit.

Cricket Bat Heart: Payneland, 2/? installments complete. An AU inspired by the book Swordheart by T. Kingfisher, where Charles has been bound to a magic cricket bat (that used to be a sword) for centuries when it falls into Edwin's hands.

Standalones

Say her name like an elegy: Edwin & Crystal, T, 2K words. When Edwin finds Crystal distraught and reading a book on necromancy, it doesn’t take much detective work to figure out what’s wrong. Providing comfort is a much more challenging endeavor.

Like the slumber that creeps to me: Payneland, T, 13K words. While on a case, Charles falls victim to a cursed necklace that causes everyone who touches it to sicken and die. While his friends frantically search for a way to break the curse, a weakening Charles has plenty of time to think about his feelings for his best mate.

I will love you (I'll really love you): Payneland, T, 5K words. Five times Charles tries to tell Edwin that he's in love with him and one time he succeeds.

I Am Flesh And I Am Bone (I've Got Fire In My Soul): Payneland w/ background Palasaki, M, 11K. On Halloween, when the veil is thinnest between the living and the dead, ghosts are at their most corporeal—and their most vulnerable. When Charles, Crystal, and Niko go to a masquerade and walk into terrible danger, Edwin has no choice but to leave the safety of their warded office to save them.

Beneath the winter snow: Pre-Payneland, T, 2K. In the days before they leave St. Hilarion's and set out to start the Dead Boy Detective Agency, Edwin and Charles are just two boys playing in the snow.

it's hard to see me (at least you tried): Pre-Payneland, M, 10K. Charles and Edwin have been the Dead Boy Detectives for over a year, tracking down lost items and estranged loved ones, when they take on a new case that takes a terrifying turn. When an overwhelmed Edwin drives Charles away—possibly forever—with a thoughtless comment, he finds himself alone and in the kind of peril he thought he had left behind in Hell.

WIPs

young blood (never get chained): Payneland with background Palasaki, E, 45k+ words, 8/16 chapters posted. When half-demon university student Charles saves one of his classmates, Edwin, from being sacrificed to a demon, he inadvertently binds their souls together and makes a powerful enemy in Hell.

Let's not overanalyze: Part 3 of MSI verse, Palasaki, T, 15k+ words, 4/5 chapters posted. When Niko starts a job as an analyst at the MSI after barely leaving her flat for two years, she has no idea what to expect. She’s not expecting to find out that vampires, ghosts, and other supernatural entities are real. She’s especially not expecting Crystal Palace Surname-von Hoverkraft, the gorgeous and somewhat terrifying agent who she can’t stop thinking about.

Coming Soon

Let's be jolly: Coming early 2025. Part 5 of MSI verse, Payneland & Palasaki. When Charles drags Edwin to the MSI's annual holiday party, Edwin expects the least of his troubles to be the appalling jumper Charles makes him wear. No one is expecting the attack by pixies.

You can find a list of my Witcher fic here or my single Last Binding fic here.

[ariesreadtoo]

In Love, I Trust

In Love, I Trust by Brookelyn Mosley is about African & Caribbean fusion bistro owner Serenity Payne and acquisitions analyst Trevon “Trey” Everest. When Trey was first introduced in the Brookelyn Mosley universe in “When Luke Met Juliette”, he’s the best friend happily in love that gives solid advice. I was so happy when Brookelyn said we’d be getting his love story and she did not disappoint! These two meet in such an unconventional way 😂 from the comment section to the DM! I love it, made me wonder if I need be in the comments section having heated debates. This story is the perfect example of love can find you in the most unexpected ways. I mean when these two start talking neither one is looking for love. Serenity almost blocks her blessing but he’s too fine literally 😭 Serenity and Trey’s natural chemistry, banter and friendship leap off the page. The only roadblock is Serenity’s fear of love, whew! I completely understand where Serenity is coming from, with her father’s infidelity which lead to her parents divorce and her dad abandoning her. Of course, she’s guarded! Serenity may live in Rose Hill but she’s certainly not wearing any rose-coloured glasses. Poor Trey has his work cut out for him but she’s worth it. Although Brookelyn did an amazing job taking us through the phases of their relationship, past & present, from their different perspectives I still wanted to spend more time with these two. Their first argument as a couple, honest and raw, I felt like I was in the room. The communication afterwards, come on healthy relationship 👏🏽 I hope we see them again in the future. As always it was a pleasure seeing New York through Brookelyn’s lens.

P.s. I hope we see Kelli again and revisit Rose Hill!

P.p.s. I’m trying to head to Bellyful and eat my belly full! *whispers* Brookelyn Serenity is part Jamaican right? 👀

P.p.p.s. Shoutout to Serenity’s mom.

_________\\\\___________\\\___________///__________\\\

**I don't own the rights to the images on this teaser. Credits to ownerships**

[gucciwins]

Public Father 

harry promised her family would always come first but what happens we he loses sight of what's important?

Word count: 12523

A/N: hi friends! i feel like it's been forever since i posted but at last here's something new. it's dad harry and i feel that's always a treat except well there is lots of angst mixed in. happy reading!

Warnings: angst, mentions of drinking, small mention of infidelity

please send me a message with your thoughts of the story

Harry has been happily married for six years. He married the love of his life at the age of 24 and now, at 30, still loves her deeply. If anything, his love for her has only grown because she gifted him two perfect children. 

Wesley is five and in love with the piano. He got the love from both him and Y/N. While Harry was introduced to the piano later in life, Y/N had begun playing at age three and never stopped. It seems Wes liked it just as much. 

Josephine, three years and growing. She refuses to pick up any instrument but is constantly running around with a paintbrush or crayon, ready to write on any blank space (that her mother allows her to).

Life is good. He has a loving wife, two kids, and a dog named Scott because Ant-Man is the children's favorite superhero, and his wife has a lot of love for Paul Rudd. He does as well. 

Harry had released a new album and is just coming back from a six-month tour in America, happy to go meet his family at his son's piano recital. He was still private, keeping work and family separate, even more so with his children, never posting their faces online, and any glimpse people did get was just off the back of their heads. He will never jeopardize their privacy, especially because he knows how much it means to Y/N to give them a choice to be in the spotlight or not. 

His flight arrived later than planned, but he wasn't worried. His wife was already there, telling him they had to arrive early. 

She had to deal with dressing a three-year-old who lived in her paint-dried overalls and getting her son to let her put a bowtie on him for the performance, something he didn't enjoy but knew he needed for the musicians he saw wore them. He wanted to follow in their footsteps and be like them, so Wes let her. 

Harry didn't know all his wife struggled with as basically a single parent as she couldn't easily join him on tour for months on end. She didn't want to pull her kids out of the routine they had created. He agreed and told her he'd call and be on a flight home if she ever needed him. Y/N knew how important touring was, but when she called him that both kids were running high fevers, that she was scared and needed him. 

He didn't answer. 

That was the first crack, with many soon to follow. 

She cried and cried and instead called her best friend, Isha, who rushed over and helped her take them to A&E. The doctor gave them medicine, and it reduced the fever. He said she did the right thing bringing them in, especially since they both had a fever that wasn't lowering. She cried on her way home as her children were finally able to drift to sleep. 

Harry didn't call back until the following day, saying he was sorry he missed her call, never once mentioning her voice message. She brushed it off and told him she missed him. Y/N let him speak with Wes and Jo, who were bouncing around better than the night before.

She knows he's not the only one to blame, but it's not all on her either. Y/N puts everything into her children. She loves them and always wants them to remember that. She is a full-time employee as a data analyst and is thankful she can bring her work home because she hates leaving Jo with a sitter when she knows the young girl can be shy even if she knows the person. Jo prefers being with her or Harry. Y/N would never push her too far when all Josie wanted was comfort. 

Harry rushed into the auditorium of the private primary school. He took hours to convince Y/N for their son to attend. She gave in when he told her they would help him with his piano lessons and that they did. He'd excelled and learned to read the music with practice. It also helped that Y/N would sit with him as he played. 

"Hello, love," Harry approaches his wife, giving Y/N a kiss on her cheek and then her lips when she turns her head. 

"Hi, you made it," she breathes out, shoulders relaxing. 

"Of course, the flight got delayed." 

"Where's my munchkin?" Harry asks, peaking at the empty seat where his little girl must be.

"Went to get a snack with Isha. I saved our seats." She offers for him to slide in.

"Got us good ones." They were sitting in the second row, the inner aisles seats for accessible exits if needed to tend to a crying toddler. 

"Yes, it pays to come early, I guess." 

Harry settles down, brings his wife close to his chest, and breathes her in. He's happy to be home. As much as he loves being on stage, there is nothing better than being with his family, with the love of his life.

"Think Isha can take the kids? I want to show you how much I missed you." Harry playfully nibbles your neck.

Y/N would love that, but her children always come to mind, "promised the kids a dinner at home with their Daddy who they missed." 

"Can't argue with that."

"Not opposed to a shower once they go to bed." Y/N throws in, knowing how important reconnecting is for them.

"That's my girl."

Y/N hears small steps down the aisle and turns her head to see her daughter running down. She giggles not too loud to not draw attention to herself until she comes to a stop at the aisle where they are sitting.

"Hi, Mummy." The smile on Jo's face is bright, calling for all the attention to be on her.

"Hello, my gorgeous girl. Got a snack." Y/N points to the closed cookie bag in her hand.

Isha arrives, cool as a breeze, her marron jumpsuit hugging her tightly in all the right places showing off her curves. "She had it already. I think it's kicking in." 

"Yes, this is for you, Mummy." Jo hands off the small treat to Y/N.

"Why aren't you the sweetest? Thank you for thinking of me." Y/n leans in, placing a loud kiss on her cheek. Jo's cheeks turned red at the extra affection but never pushed Y/N away.

Isha sits next to Y/N, handing her two waters, where she places them in the cup holders as Jo walks a little farther in to not block the walkway.

"Look who's here, angel?" Y/N brushes Jo's wild curls behind her ears. She peeks over and finds Harry staring at her with a wide grin.

"Hi, my love, missed you." Harry softens his tone, opening his arms, ready for her to rush towards him, but to his surprise, she doesn't. 

Jo nods but doesn't move towards him. Instead, she reaches up to be seated in Y/N's lap. Y/N doesn't question her but turns her to face Harry. She rubs a gentle hand down her back, noting how she's grabbing the end of Y/N's dress.

Harry doesn't falter. "Missed you. Thought of you every day. Got some presents for you waiting at home." No reaction. "Do you want to give Daddy a kiss?" 

She reaches her arms up towards his face, and Harry thinks she wants him to carry her, but Y/N stops him. "She wants to hold your face, lean down." Harry does as she said. His daughter's tiny hands land on his cheeks, and she gazes into his eyes before a smile takes over her face. They must be wearing matching smiles because, in the next second, she leans forward to place a kiss on his nose. "Daddy." 

"That's right, bubba. I'm your, Daddy." 

Josie loses interest after that, going for the cookies Y/N opened for herself and Jo because she knows the young girl wouldn't be able to help herself. Harry turns his focus to the stage where a teacher has begun announcements to shut off all noise on electronics and to make sure the flash remains off when taking photos. 

Harry was buzzing in his seat to see his son perform. He was proud of Wes and his confidence in embracing his talents, just as his wife did at his age. Pretty soon, he might even follow in Harry's footsteps. 

The first few performances went in the blink of an eye as Harry clapped for each one, always trying to see if he could see Wes peeking behind the curtains; he did not. Until finally, it was time. Wes Styles was announced and out walked his son, who had grown taller in the six months he had been away. Facetime is different from seeing his son and his family in person. Harry frowned because that means he didn't get to mark his month's growth against his bedroom door with him as they'd done previously. He brushed over that small fact because he knew Y/N would take care of it, just like she did everything else. 

His son glanced at them with a timid smile before looking down at the keys. The stare lingered on his fingers for a second before he took a deep breath and began to play a beautiful melody. 

After the short-minute song, Harry, Y/N, and Isha all stood cheering loudly and proudly for Wes. His son waved and did a bow, then rushed backstage as he awaited for the final two students before he could reunite with his family. Harry could not stop squeezing her thigh, proud of their son. 

One final time all students come on stage for a final bow and then are dismissed. Y/N set Jo down, allowing her to toddle over to her older brother with the large bouquet of flowers in her hands. Isha made sure to record their hug as Y/N was quick to get overwhelmed with tears. Wes noticed Harry right behind Y/N, and as excited as he was to see his father, his number one person would always be his Y/N. Wes was a total Mummy's boy. Y/N held her son tightly, pressing kisses on his cheeks as Wes basked in the affection. 

"Proud of you, angel." 

Wes smiles, his dimples on full display. "Thanks for your help, Mumma." 

"Always, darling." She presses one last kiss to his face before standing up, allowing Harry to have his turn. 

"Hiya bud, you were incredible." Harry gets down to Wes' height, arms wide open, and Wes doesn't wait another second before launching himself in his father's arms. It had been months. Harry missed his kids. He missed being home. He was glad to be back. 

"Are you proud?"

Harry brushes back Wes' curls, similar to Harry's when he was that age. 

Y/N frowns, overhearing her son's question, while Harry doesn't even think twice about it. 

"Extremely." Harry hugs his son one last time before letting him go. 

All begin to walk out together, except for Jo, who wants her Mum to hold her. Harry offered to carry her, but Josephine insisted that it be Y/N only. Who was Harry to make his little girl unhappy?

"We'll meet you at home then. Made Wes' favorite dinner to celebrate." Y/N tells Harry as he helps Wes buckle up, and Y/N settles Jo into her seat, a pout on her face. 

"Actually, love, I got us a reservation for the kids' favorite pizza place." Harry grins, taking his eyes away from Wes and meeting Y/N's, who cannot help but shake her head because, of course, he did. 

"Pizza alright with you, Mr. Pianist?" Y/N looks at Wes, waiting patiently in his seat.

Wes nods eagerly, telling them to get in already. 

The drive is smooth with their children filling the car with their singing to the Frozen 2 soundtrack. They can never seem to get enough. It's one of their favorites. 

Dinner goes as smoothly as Y/N hoped. There is laughter and conversation constantly flowing. Wes talks Harry's ears off while also speaking with Isha. Jo sticks to her side most of the night, eating from Y/N's plate, not wanting to eat the pizza Harry picked for her. It seemed Jo didn't want to share Y/N with Harry for the night. He didn't mind, not when he knew he'd be getting Y/N all alone later. 

As Y/N sees her children beginning to yawn, she knows it is time to head home. One look towards Harry, and he's pressing a kiss to her cheek and going to pay the bill. 

"It's nice he's home," Isha comments. 

Y/N nods. "I've missed it." 

"Let's see how long he's here." 

She sighs because as much as she defends Harry, Isha is right. There is no telling how long he is home until the work begins. 

"I'll always have you," Y/N squeezes her hand. 

"Of course, you will, but I want you to have him as well." 

Y/N knows she's right, "I'll speak to him."

"All ready to head out?" Harry asks quietly, seeing that Jo is fighting off sleep. 

Y/N leads the way out, carrying Jo looking behind her to see Isha holding Wes's hand, sending a smile. Harry steps forward to get to the door when Y/N stops him seeing a few people loitering outside with cameras in hand. 

Paparazzi. 

How did they even find him? Jeff had assured Harry and Y/N endlessly that no one knew he had landed back in London. 

So much for privacy. Y/N asks Jo softly to cuddle close, placing the blanket she carries in her bag over her head. Isha scoops Wes up and drapes her coat over him. Y/N hates doing this. Her kids are accommodating to this because they've had to do it many times already.

"You can take the back exit," Harry tells her, frowning at the paparazzi.

"What?" She asked, confused. 

"Yeah, I'll handle them. Take Isha's car. She still has the seats, right?" 

"But Harry–"

Harry shakes his head, "we'll make it home at the same time." 

He quickly kisses Y/N's lips, and then she follows the waiter, who was kind enough to show them out while Harry braced the paparazzi on his own. 

As Harry catches sight of Isha's car driving away, he walks out with all the focus on him. The camera-ready smile is on as he walks towards his car with them all following along. 

"What were you celebrating, Mr. Styles?" 

With pride, he answers, looking at the man who asked, "my son had a piano recital tonight and was brilliant." 

"Must be really proud," someone else chimed in. 

"Hard worker just like me," Harry shared. 

Harry lets them ask a few more questions before bedding them goodbye with one final thought. "Last thing I want to say is talented, and I'm proud to call him my boy." 

He arrives half an hour later, never stopping to text her that he was not right behind her like he promised. Y/N sighs as she finishes picking up the last few scattered toys Jo managed to miss making into her toy chest when she heard the front door close. 

The kids are now both bathed and in bed. Josie was eager for a goodnight kiss from both her parents, but after a fresh shower and Y/N combing her hair, she settled down quickly. Wes was still waiting eagerly in his room, waiting for Harry to give him a kiss goodnight. Storytime used to be Harry and Wes time, but Y/N took over that, and now both enjoyed reading a book with fewer pictures and more words. 

Harry walks in quietly, not saying a word. 

"Took a while, H." 

"Yeah," he murmurs. "They wouldn't leave me alone." 

Y/N nods before gesturing up the stairs, "Wes is waiting for a goodnight." 

"Leave me the easy part, huh." Harry steps close to her, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. "Thanks, love." 

After seeing that downstairs was all tidy, she goes up, ready for her own shower to wash the day away. She passes Josie's room first and sees her deep in sleep, her ducky tight in her hold. Next, Wes' room and knows all is good with the small chatter inside. It's nice to have Harry home.

Y/N's undressing in their bathroom when the door creeps open, and Harry stops to stare. She doesn't mind. She's missed being in his presence. 

"Did Wes go down easy?" 

"Yes, he did. I asked if he wanted me to read, but he said you got that covered." Harry said a bit accusingly. 

Y/N brushes it off, "it gets him settled for bed quicker. You can read tomorrow." 

She reaches in to turn the water on, getting the temperature to her liking as much as she wants a bath. She's also dead on her feet. 

Harry remembers the conversation they had earlier, watching his wife get her shower ready. He steps up behind her as she's straightening out, his hands resting on her bare hips, "can I still join you?" 

"Of course, H." 

Harry presses a kiss to her bare shoulder before moving up her neck, "going to let me love on you too," 

Y/N sighs at the kisses he leaves her, leaving her more overwhelmed than the last. All she can do is nod. 

"Need an answer, honey." 

"Yes, baby, please." 

"Is my wife going to let me show her how much I missed her? How appreciative I am of her being a good mother to our children. God baby, so ready to give you everything you need."

"Yes, Harry. Yes." 

Her mind is hazy, and all she can think is that she loves him. 

"I love you, Harry." 

"And I love you, my heart. Now let me show you."

The following morning Y/N is up before everyone else. She knows Josie is an early bird and likes to have breakfast with her while Y/N has her tea. She kisses Harry's forehead and makes her way downstairs with her phone in hand that is flooded with more notifications than usual. 

She sighs; it's going to be one of those days.

Harry is found entering an Italian restaurant with a mystery woman but leaves alone, saying he was celebrating his son, but his son or his wife were nowhere in sight. 

It's a photo of the back of Isha and Harry holding the door open. Isha looks really good, and though Y/N knows the truth, she hates the speculation of him cheating on her. She hates that media outlets still entertain even when they know they're married and have two children. Y/N knows Harry would never, but it still makes her heartache. 

Y/N decides it's best to ignore it and instead enjoy the time together as a family. Wes and Jo have wanted to go to the park, and it seems lovely weather to do so as a family.

Everything would be alright.

It's been a week since Harry arrived home, and Y/N is going crazy. 

Truthfully, she's just sad. 

She loves Harry. Of course, she does. He's the father of her children, husband, and best friend, but he hasn't been home. He's been gone every night following their park day. It's either a meeting, a dinner, or drinks with old friends. It's spending time with everyone but them. There have been more articles lately about Harry raving about their children and how amazing they are. He speaks of their talents and skills. How Josie loves to paint and mixes colors well to Wes' dedication to practicing piano. 

Y/N's least liked piece she's read is in his latest interview, where he spoke of them again when he was asked about his favorite part of being a stay-at-home dad. His response was laughable, "all the time with them to cook, oh and bath time."  

Y/N scoffs because it's a load of crap. He's not a stay-at-home dad. He's a public father, only for show but never there for the small things when she needs him. She loves Harry, but he's changed from the man she met, and he now much prefers the limelight to being at home. 

It's Friday night, and Harry once again didn't tuck his kids to bed. No bedtime stories or goodnight kisses.

"Why is Daddy always busy, Mummy?" Wes asks as she bookmarks the page they left on to pick up again tomorrow. 

She wishes she had an answer. So, she lies. "He's preparing for a long time off."

"Okay. I love you." 

"I love you more, my sweet Wesley."

Y/N kisses him three times and wishes him sweet dreams. 

Wes had shocked her tonight. She never lied to her children, but it seemed like she had to. How could she make Harry the bad guy?

When Y/N settles down for bed and notices Harry hasn't arrived home, she decides she's had enough of this shit Harry is pulling and can only let it go on for so long. In the past, Y/N would have stayed up waiting to make sure Harry got home safe, but her children are her top priority. 

Y/N stirs when she hears the front door slam shut. She groans, peeking an eye open to see the time, and it reads 5:14 am. It's clear Harry's drunk with all the tumbling and giggling he's doing up the stairs and into their room. Y/N stays still, not saying a word as he stumbles into bed. He wasn't loud enough to wake the kids, but she knew they would be up soon

By six, she's up, getting ready because between seven, it's time for the kids to wake up. She made them oatmeal with strawberries and blueberries on the side. Y/N walks into Josie's room, knowing she's awake but lays in bed waiting for Y/N because she loves a morning cuddle. 

"Morning, my darling angel." 

Josie kicks her legs up, laughing, "morning, Mummy." 

"How'd you sleep?" Y/N asks as she scoops Josie into her lap and cuddles her close to her chest. 

"Good," she mumbles.

"Ready to start the day, little dove?"

"Mhm." 

"Want to change first?" 

"Yes!" 

"What do you want to wear?" 

Josie wiggles out of your grasp and lets her feet carry her over to her drawer that holds her socks before moving on to her tops and bottoms. In a few minutes, she's back at Y/N's side, proudly displaying yellow socks, a yellow top, and black overalls. 

"Wow, I love it." Y/N kisses her cheek, causing Josie to smile, showing off her dimples.

"Help, please."

Y/N sits her on the bed and helps her take off her nightgown. She blows raspberries onto her tummy, causing Jo to let out loud giggles.

"No accidents last night?" Y/N asks because Josie likes the check-up. She shakes her head no. "Okay, before we buckle, let's go to the restroom and brush your teeth. Sound good?" 

"Good." She agrees leading the way. 

Y/N kneels down to Josie's height, ensuring she's brushing correctly, helping her when Jo allows her. Once she's all done, Jo clips her overalls, and Y/N stands behind her, beginning to brush her daughter's curls. 

"Does Josie want piggies, bunnies, or a braid today?" 

Jo thinks about it for a second before showing you two fingers. "Bunnies it is."

Y/N wets her hair, making sure to go gentle, not wanting to hurt Josie. She makes sure not to tie the hair ties too tight. She knows she hated it when her mother did it to her when she was younger. 

"All done," Y/N smiles at her through the mirror.

"Yay!" She claps and steps down from her stepping stool slowly, not wanting to fall over.

"Let's go check on your brother." 

She nods eagerly, slips on her bunny slippers, and heads next door to Wes' room. 

"Daddy?" She asks. 

Y/N frowns, "he's not feeling well. He's sleeping." 

"Okay." 

And that's that.

They walk in to see Wes laying his clothes on his bed. 

"Wes!" Jo shouts, running to hug her brother as if she hadn't seen him for months when it was only a few hours as they all slept. 

"Hi, Jo. Morning Mummy." He grins at them both. 

"Good morning, my love." Y/N gives his brushed hair a kiss. "Restroom all done."

"Yes. Teeth check," Wes says before she can ask and opens his mouth for her. 

She leans down, chuckling, "smells fruity."

Wes nods proudly. 

"Now," Y/N smiles, looking at her two children, the joy of her life. "It's time for kisses."

Y/N grabs them, bringing them close to her chest as she kisses them all over. Their laughter fills her heart. 

"Alright, alright, breakfast time."

She decides she doesn't want to be home while Harry sleeps off his drunkenness and decides to take them to the park. It's a good place for the children to run to their heart's content but still tire them out for nap time. As soon as they get home, the kids know the routine, take their shoes off by their door, and race to their rooms to get a chance of clothes to not spend more time in their sweaty clothes while she prepares lunch. 

The day is perfect. It's just them. For some time, it felt like when Harry was on tour and not home, they'd wait for his call, except he is here, and she's not sure how to feel. 

The kids are lying on the patio sharing a coloring book as Wes tries his best to teach Josie to stay within the lines, but she doesn't like being told what to do, only wanting to add more to the drawing. She hears the shower going and knows Harry is up. 

Y/N squares her shoulders, ready to tell Harry exactly how she feels because she's tired. She feels like she's raising two kids alone. It was nice the first years with Wes because Harry took the first two years off, not wanting to miss anything, and then he worked for a year where they all traveled with him. It was beautiful getting to show their baby the world. But then she found out she was pregnant, and Wes was starting school, and all she wanted was a routine for Josie like she had for Wes, but Harry was running on a high.

Harry was winning awards, streams were high, his songs were breaking records on the charts, and he wasn't ready for another pause. It wasn't until she was five months pregnant that he took a break to be there for her. Now Josie is three, and she doesn't know her father that well, always wondering who that man on the screen is. It leads to tears when Jo doesn't want to talk to him. Their kids need their father, and she wishes he could put out music and continue his career, but he loves being on stage, and she fears if she asks him to stay home, it won't be enough. That they won't be enough.

Harry walks down the stairs looking tired. 

"Hi, love." 

She stays quiet. 

"Had a late night, everyone sends their love." 

She frowns, not even sure who everyone is. 

"Should go out together soon. Get Isha to watch the kids."

"She's on a work trip," Y/N responds softly. 

"Well," he shrugs, "bet you know loads of people to help."

Her frown deepens because she notices he says she knows, not that he knows anyone.

"Harry." 

"Yeah?”

Harry sits down unconcerned, like he didn't arrive early this morning. 

"I can't do this," she tells him.

"Do what?" Harry asks, confused.

"Watch you go out every night and leave me as the housewife to watch the kids."

"Y/N–"

"No, Harry, I'm serious. You came home after a six-month-long tour and spent only around four hours put together with them this past week." Y/N isn't fighting for herself but for her children. 

"I'm catching up with friends," he defends.

She scoffs, "catching up is a few hours not coming home pissed drunk at five am stumbling up the stairs with no care if you might wake your kids." 

Harry frowns, "I deserve time off." 

"Of course, you do, but there's no time off from being a dad. Harry, I work full time. I make breakfast, lunch and dinner. I take them to their practices and pick them up from school. I'm doing it all, alone. Our three-year-old is growing fast, and she doesn't recognize her dad most of the time." 

"Ain't that disappointing," he laughs bitterly. "Y/N, that's on you. Not forcing her to talk to me." 

Y/N feels her heart crack, this is unbelievable. 

"Do you hear yourself? Force her." She shakes her head, ensuring her voice stays level to not alert the kids. "If she doesn't want to, I won't make her. It's your job as her father to be here for her." 

"I am here."

"Here for what?" She points to him, "here in the flesh, sure but not doing any work."

"I'm here, and I do my part," he argues.

"What have you done?" 

She waits for him to answer. A few seconds, a minute, and nothing but silence follows. 

"You're just a public father," she spats out.

"What?" 

"Praise all the good things your children do, all the raising you do. The stay-at-home father bit. Show up to recitals and parent conferences. It's all an act. To look good in the public eye. You're not the father who takes time to bathe his kids, to do teatime, or read them story after story. You're not the father they go to when they have a bad dream, not the father who sneaks them a treat when I'm cooking dinner. You're here, but you aren't. They need a private father who is there during bath time and tucks them to bed. Who would rather stay in and watch a movie than go out for dinner with friends and come home after six drinks at the bar? A father who listens to the same music over and over again. No, you prefer to be the public father who does no wrong and happily brags about his child's accomplishments.  The man who sends them to private school and pays for this expensive house you choose for us to live in. As if you take them to their lessons, who deal with fevers, who deal with tantrums and having to tell them why their dad has left them yet again." Y/N wipes the tears that escaped her, her voice trailing off. 

"I love you, but I don't love the man you've become. I want the father who woke up every hour to check up on our babies, the father who held my hand as I breastfed our babies for the first time. I want the father who promised to always put them first. To put us first. It's not even about me. It's about them and how they are beginning to feel like they are being raised by only one parent."

"I–I" Harry doesn't even have words because she's right. 

Of course, she is.

He's failed them.

He failed them as a parent, but he's also failed as a husband. 

Y/n told him she didn't want to become a housewife who just cared for her children and lost herself, but it's close to who she's becoming while still working. 

Why didn't he stop the tour?

Why didn't he think about asking how they all felt about him leaving for so long with not one visit? 

He missed lessons and jokes. He missed his son playing footy for the first time because he was always so anxious about it. His little girl had to take moments to remember his face. His wife–is hanging by a thread, and he's sure if it wasn't for their two kids, she wouldn't be here anymore, waiting for him.

"We are going to stay with my mum." She declares no room for argument.

"Love," Harry tries, but she shakes her head, stepping away from him.

"I love you, but it feels like you may not have the same love for us. I'm not saying it's us or touring, not at all. I know it means everything to you, but that changed five years ago. At least my priorities did. Yours should have to."

She goes towards the stairs to pack a weekend bag for the kids. "You need to figure out how to be a better father and not just a rockstar because you're both." 

Harry watches her go up the stairs, knowing he has to let her go. 

Y/N walks into Jo's room first, knowing hers would be the quickest to pack, knowing what she prefers. It's all set, and Y/N carries it into Wes' room, where he's lying on his bed with Josie as they look at picture books.

She grabs his Ant-man backpack and begins to get socks and underwear first. "What are you doing, Mummy?"

"Going on a little weekend trip," she answers softly. 

"With dad?" 

Y/N shakes her head, walking over to him. She smiles down at him, pressing a kiss to his head. "No, he's got some meetings, but he'll…" she pauses, "he'll be here when we get back."

Wes nods as if knowing there's a problem between his parents, "want to choose your clothes, lovie, or still have some faith in me." 

"You can do it,"  Wes mutters. It breaks Y/N’s heart.

Once she has packed Wes's bag, she ushers them downstairs to put on their coats and shoes. Harry is sitting on the couch staring at a black screen. 

Y/N sighs, "I'll let you know when we arrive." 

"Y/N?"

She looks at him. He's now standing in the doorway, smiling sadly at his kids as Wes helps Jo zip her boots. 

"You will come back, right?" His voice was small as if afraid of the answer.

"Of course, Harry. Still got a lot to figure out together, but you need to figure some things on your own." 

"You still love me," he whispers as if he said it any louder. She'd tell him something that'd break his heart.

"With all my heart. I promised forever with you, and I'm holding tight to that, but I need you to find your way back to us." Y/N kisses his cheek before stepping back and grabbing the car keys. 

Y/N watches as Harry kisses his children, giving them a big squeeze before letting them go. "Have a nice time, my angels."

They giggle and nod. They hold hands as Harry opens the door for them, waiting by the steps for Y/N to guide them down. 

Y/N smiles at him, it's small, and it breaks his heart. 

"I love you. I love you, and I promise I will try my best. I can't lose you." Harry promises her. 

"You won't. Just give us the weekend, and we can go from there." 

"I'd give you all in the time in the world if the end result was you all in my arms again." 

"Can I kiss you?" 

She nods timidly.

It's short and feels almost new. He doesn't try to deepen it but allows himself to feel her lips on his and how he ever let himself go so long without them. They break apart, hearing their children's laughter. 

"At least they're not grossed out." She points out. 

Y/N picks up Josie and holds Wes' hand down the steps. She settles Josie in her car seat first, then sits Wes in the booster. She gets into the car and does not look back at Harry as she drives off. She feels sad but also proud of herself because she and her children deserve better. 

Y/N knows the route to her mother's like the back of her hand. It isn't until she passes the usual exit does she realize that's not where she wants to be. They've got a bit of a drive ahead. She makes a Bluetooth call hoping for an answer, and thankfully she gets it. It's a short call but knowing she will be welcomed with open arms always fills her with joy.

The drive didn't feel long, maybe because of the endless music they had playing. Thankfully they only have to make two stops before arriving. Y/N pulls into the driveway, relieved when she sees the porch light lit up. She turns the engine off and sees Wes fighting sleep as he unbuckles himself but waits for her to go to his side. Y/N goes to Josie's side first as she's in a deep sleep putting her on her shoulder and bags on the other. Opening Wes' dooring, he gets down with her help and then takes the bags from her. Her ever helpful boy.

She lets Wes knock on the door, and a few seconds later, it opens to show her a similar smile she just left behind. 

"Nana!" 

"Hi, my darling Wes," she cheers. 

Anne Twist is one of her favorite people in her life.

Y/N loves her mother, but she's never felt so welcomed and loved as much as she does with her mother-in-law.

"Hi Anne," Y/N greets softly.

"Well, come in, sweetie," Anne moves from the door to let you in. "Don't go acting like a stranger now." 

Y/N chuckles and walks in right behind Wes, who makes sure to take his shoes off before running in, setting his and Josie's bag right next to the couch. 

"Are there bags in the car?" 

"Just mine. I'll go for it once I set her down." Y/N gestures to Josie. 

"Don't be silly. I've got it. You go on and set her down in Harry's room. We both know they like sleeping there when they visit." 

"Thank you, Anne."

"Nothing to thank, dear." 

Y/N moves up the steps slowly before entering the familiar room. She lays Josie down, removing her overalls and tucking her in under the covers, making a border with the pillows, not wanting her to roll off the bed. Jo doesn't even flinch as she fixes the blanket around her. 

She pulls her phone out, knowing she owes Harry a text. 

H

We made it. Had a few stops to make in between xxx

Y/N

Okay. I love you xxx

It hurts to leave him on read, but she does. He knows she loves him but needs the space. As Y/N starts getting lost in thought, Wes and Anne make their presence known. 

"This strong man helped me with the bags," Anne tells her as she sets the bag down by the door.

"Very kind of you, Wes, thank you."

"Always help like you say, Mummy." 

Y/N smiles while taking the bags from Wes, "that's right, we help when we can." 

"Want some tea, Y/N?" Anne asks as she's unpacking Wes's pajamas. 

"If it's not a bother." 

"Y/N," Anne chastises in her motherly tone, one Y/N recognizes as one she does to her children.

She sighs, "I'm sorry. I'd love tea."

"Good." 

As she's about to walk out, "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Anne doesn't know what it is, but she clearly knows it has to do with her son. 

"When I get them to bed."

Anne understands. "Do you want some help?" 

She shakes her head, "no, just need to get him changed and in bed, and he'll be out for the night." 

Wes is fighting sleep. All his movements lagged no. Jo has not moved one bit, and Y/N knows once Wes settles, he'll be out for the entire night. 

Before Anne leaves the room, she pulls Y/N in for a hug. "I love you, don't forget it. Not because you gave me grandchildren or because you married my son but because I love the person I met all those years ago and the person you've become."

"Thank you, Anne. I love you too." 

Y/N helps Wes get ready for bed, sitting with him in the restroom as he brushes his teeth and puts away his dirty clothes with Jo's. She apologizes to him for not having a book to read tonight, but he's too tired to be concerned about a book. 

As she tucks him in under the covers next to Jo, he scoots close to her. It's a perfect picture moment. Seeing her babies cuddled close always fills her with so much love. 

"I'll take care of Jo," Wes promises. 

"I'll be sleeping right across if you need me." 

He nods, letting his eyes flutter closed, drifting off to sleep as she plays with his hair. He loves it just as much as Harry does. 

Y/N walks down and sees her tea done just how she likes it waiting for her. She takes a sip humming at the taste. No one makes it as good as Anne. "Thank you." 

"Course, sweetheart." 

They sit in silence for a moment. 

"Nice drive?" Anne asks. 

"Yes, it was. You know we enjoy the drive up to visit you." 

"Reckon, you can't do it enough with those kiddos."

"It's endless potty breaks," Y/N jokes. 

Small conversation flows as they drink their tea. Once they finish, Y/N rinses both mugs and sets them in the dishwasher, knowing Anne's preferred method. Y/N follows Anne to the living room sitting close to the edge as she drapes the warm blanket over herself. It's one she always uses when she comes down for a visit. 

"I love Harry. With all my heart," Y/N begins, "I married him, but–"

"Oh honey, what did he do?" 

Y/N sighs, "it's like he's not even there for us when he's home—well, for them. The kids miss him and always ask for him, but it's like he's still on the road when he's here." 

"He doesn't spend time with them." 

"Think the last time he spent hours with us was when he arrived for Wes' recital." Y/N keeps letting it all out now that she finally feels she has the chance to speak with someone who's listening. "I told him all this before leaving; he needed to figure out all his stuff and what kind of father he wanted to be and that we'd talk on Monday when we returned."

"That's good. Time apart." 

"It's not like we need more of it, I know," she defends, "but I needed it." 

 Anne reaches out and squeezes her hand tightly. 

"I love my Wes and Jo with all my heart, but I also miss my husband. I miss sneaking kisses, holding hands, and even staying up late on the couch talking for hours. I miss falling in love with Harry every day, and it's like he doesn't miss me, doesn't miss us. It's as if we're just a stop before his next big trip."

Y/N sees Anne's smile falter, "oh darling, I know he loves you." 

"I don't doubt that, but he's constantly putting his career before us. Six months away, Jo isn't comfortable being alone with him for longer than ten minutes." 

"I'm sorry it's been so hard."

Y/N feels she has said too much, "I'm sorry to pour this on you. He's your son." 

Anne tuts, shaking her head. "And you're my daughter. Maybe not by blood, but I love you like a daughter, and you've given me more bundle of joys to love." 

"Do–do you think he'll figure it out for us?" Y/N has never been so nervous for an answer. 

"I hope so. If I know my son, he can get lost, but a slap on the head always sets him back on track. I think you've done just that." 

Y/N feels a little relieved. "Get some rest. Sleep in if you can. I promise I got the kids." 

"I don't know if I can." 

Anne laughs, "you will." 

Y/N checks in on her babies one last time before heading to bed. As soon as her head hits the pillow, she's out like a light. 

She wakes up to distant laughter and knows it's time to get up. She checks her phone and sees it's ten am. She can't remember the last time she slept in that late. 

Seeing as her kids are occupied with their Nana, she takes advantage and takes a long shower, washing all of yesterday away. She prepares for the cold air she knows will hit her once she steps out to Anne's large garden to greet her children. 

Y/N lingers in the kitchen as she finishes her tea before stepping out. The creek in the door alerts them all to her presence. She waves at them as they come bounding towards her with giant grins. Y/N doesn't think twice, sinking to the floor, arms wide open to take Jo and Wes in her embrace. 

"Hi, my angels." 

"Mummy was a sleepy head."

Y/N can hear Anne giggling as she steps closer. "That I was. I needed to get my energy fueled if I want to keep up with you too." 

"Yay!" Josie cheers right by Y/N's ear. 

"What did you do this morning with Nana Anne?"

"A walk!" Josie yells. 

"There was lots of grass," Wes comments. 

"Yeah, I bet. Daddy knows how much Nana loves being out in the open." 

"I like it here," Wes exclaims, returning to the grass and spinning around in circles. 

"Me too," Josie says, copying her older brother's movements.

Y/N leans her head back, taking in the small bit of sunlight peeking through the clouds. I do as well, Y/N thinks to herself.

Anne beams at Y/N, glad that her grandchildren are happy here because she wants them to know they always have a place here, a safe space. Y/N has continuously shown that to them. 

"Darling?" Y/N turns her head away from her giggling children to look at Anne, "does he know you're here?" 

She grimaces and shakes her head no. "I was originally taking us to my mother's but realized three exits too late that wasn't where I was headed." 

Anne signals she understands. "I'm glad you're here." 

"Me too." 

Saturday comes and goes all too quickly. The kids were so spent they didn't put up a fight to be told it was bedtime. Anne had graciously found some children's books she had buried away so that Y/N could read to the kids before they went to bed. Y/N read to Jo and Wes as they cuddled close, hands tucked under their chin as they let their mother's soothing voice lull them to sleep. 

Y/N sits in the living room drinking her tea, discussing tomorrow's plans before heading up. As she finishes her tea, she goes to the kitchen to wash her mug when she hears the front door open. 

"Anne?" Y/N calls out softly. 

She walks out and sees Anne at the bottom of the steps, also curious as to who could be at the door. 

"Mum," she knows that voice well. It sends chills through her body and makes her cheeks warm up.

"Harry," Anne responds. 

"We need to talk, Mum," Harry says in a defeated voice. 

Y/N looks at Anne and gives her two options to head upstairs, and she'll tell Harry that they're here or let Anne do it. Harry must have noticed an extra car in the driveway, as cowardly as she wants to be. 

She nods, following behind Anne. 

"Mum," he pulls her in for a hug, sighing in relief. Y/N holds her breath when he lifts his head and sees her. "Y/N," he gasps. 

"Hi, H." 

"Thought you were at your mum's." He steps away from Anne and towards you. 

She shrugs, "needed a bit more love than that." 

Harry understands what she means because he's here as well. He knows best how well Anne makes someone feel welcomed and safe. 

"I'm going to bed." Y/N kisses Anne's cheek, whispering a good night. She passes by Harry squeezing his shoulder, "kids are in your room if you want to see them." 

Harry feels his chest hurt. Of course, he wants to see his children. He also wants to follow Y/N to bed and hold her close. He wants to tell her he promises that he's going to do better. He spoke with Jeff and told him there would be no tours for a while and that albums might follow, but his focus is on his family. Jeff understood, he was shocked at first, but everyone stood behind him.

But instead of saying anything, he lets her go up, watching her every step until she's down the hall. Anne sighs as she sees Harry stare at Y/N longingly, the same look he had when he first brought her over when they had been dating only a few months. 

"My boy," Anne's voice was full of sympathy.

"Mum," his voice cracks, "I messed up, and I–I might lose them."

"Course you won't. You showed up, didn't you? That's something." She assures him. 

"I love her and my angels. I can't lose them. I won't survive it." 

"Then fight Harry, prove to her you can't live without them." 

"I will."

The following day Y/N is up early, to no surprise, ready to help get her kids' day started. As she starts to get up, she goes to grab her phone but stops when she sees a note sitting right on top. 

Morning early bird,

Fancy a walk? Mum promised to watch Wes and Jo.

Love, H 

Y/N can't ignore the flutter in her heart and gets dressed in her large red coat Harry gifted her five Christmases ago when he saw her eyeing it at the shops but didn't have the heart to tell him because it was way above the price range they settled on for each other. There's a chance of snow, and she wants to be prepared.  

She checks in on Jo and Wes, sprawled wide on the twin-sized bed, limps over each other but neither bothered. Walking down the steps, she sees Harry sitting on the couch with a book in hand.

"Morning," she voices. 

Harry is quick to set his book down and stands to look at her. "Hi, love." His eyes roam her from top to bottom, and she can feel the familiar heat on her cheeks, knowing what he'll say next, so she stops him.

"Got your note." 

"Are you up for it?" 

She nods, "I am." 

"Do you want to eat first?" Y/N agrees, already stepping that way when Harry joins. "Can make you some eggs?" 

"Tea and toast will be fine."

After a quiet breakfast, they both slip on their boots and head out, not before leaving a note for Anne that they'll be back soon. They begin the walk side by side with a small gap in between. Both are distracted, trying their best to get their thoughts in order. Y/N isn't sure how much they've walked when Harry speaks up. 

"Love," 

Y/N stays silent. 

"I'm sorry." She lets him go on. "I–I don't know how I let myself get blind, but I'm sorry." 

She lets that sink in. He's acknowledging that he's been lost in his own world. That's a start. 

"I won't be announcing a new tour," Harry tells her. "Maybe not for a while." 

"But you love being on stage."

"Y/N," 

She hears the change in his voice and halts her walking. 

"You're the love of my life, my heart. With our children is where I should be. I guess getting lost in shows was easier than knowing you all couldn't be there with me." The confession is enough to put Y/N at ease, but it doesn't solve everything. 

"We need to find common ground, Harry." 

"I know." Harry pauses, looking out at the river they walked along for the first time many years ago, then turns back to Y/N, locking eyes with her. "That's why I'm taking a break." 

"And when you decide to go off again?" 

"We'll talk." 

"Like we did before," she throws back because she's heard this promise and has difficulty believing it. 

"I know it's all mostly my fault, but you didn't say much." 

Y/N knows he's right, but he's not the one who stayed behind. "What could I do? I had to put them first. I always do. I always will." 

"I'm not–"

"You were across the world, and they needed a strong mother, and if I brought it up and it didn't go my way, I would have broken." The tears are begging to come out, but she holds them in.

"Didn't I tell you if you needed me, I was a plane ride away." 

That's what breaks the dam.

Y/N grows silent, letting her sobs fill the air. Harry is too nervous to touch her in case she doesn't want his touch.

"I did that," she whispers. 

"What?"

She shrugs, "I don't know where you were, but both kids had fevers, and it was so hard. I called you. I had no answer. I tried again and again, and nothing. I left a voicemail, and nothing. I reached out to Jeff, and no one would answer me. Maybe you were sleeping or in between travels or whatever, but something broke in me that day because I had to rely on a friend to take my children and me to the hospital and had their support but not my husband's."

That's when Y/N sees Harry's tears fall, and they're endless. She knows he must be imagining two crying babies and a panicked mother needing someone by her side assuring her they'd get through it. Yet, she had no one. 

"I didn't know," he sobs. "Why didn't you bring it up?"

"Because you rang the following morning cheery like you never saw the voicemail, I figured you'd bring it up if you heard the voicemails and saw the missed calls."

"I'm the worst." 

Y/N shrugs, not denying it, instead turning back towards the house. 

"Don't want to keep walking?" 

"No," she replies honestly. 

"I have faith in us," he tells her, brushing his pinky with hers. 

"I do too."

Harry lets out a deep sigh. It's a step forward. 

"But this isn't about just me, Harry." 

And he knows that. He knows he has much to make up to his angels, Wes and Josie. 

"I know our kids. You know I love them." 

"I do…but they don't. At least not always. They don't understand why their dad is always gone or doesn't pick them up at the school gates or daycare on the odd day she goes." 

It's the little things he's missed out on that they miss as well. "Will you help me?" Before she can answer, he continues. "I know I don't deserve your help, but you're my forever." 

"Okay, H." 

That's the end of the conversation. It seems as if they've reached the house. Harry opens the door helping Y/N out of her coat and lining up her boots with his. Y/N walks into the kitchen first, seeing Anne making breakfast. The kids immediately notice her letting out a loud "Good morning" as they munch on their berries. 

Wes smiles as she presses a kiss on his cheek, but it dims when he takes a look at her face and then at Harry, who is right behind her. That's odd, Y/N thinks. She turns to ask Harry, but it seems that Harry doesn't even notice. He's wishing them a good morning leaving endless kisses on both cheeks. Harry helps Josie eat her berries, giggling as he pretends to miss her mouth. 

"Mummy," Josie calls for her attention. 

"Yes, my love." Y/N steps close, bushing her curls back away from her eyes. 

"Itch," she mumbles.

Y/N fails to hold back a laugh, "who darling?" 

She pouts, looking at her brother for help. 

"Michal, Mummy." He answers like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Y/N lets out a small laugh because, of course, she's asking for Michal. Every time they made a trip up here, Gemma and Michal also made a stop. It seems Jo wanted to see one of her favorite people. 

"He's not here. Why don't we give him a call, huh?" 

The siblings cheer, coming to sit on her lap, and she holds the phone up to her ear, waiting for the person to answer. 

Harry steps away from the hurt, not knowing who his family is referring. He feels a hand settle on his back, rubbing it in circles, soothing him just a little. "Michal, your sister's partner, relax." 

"I thought–" He doesn't know what he thought. 

Anne frowns, "if you thought that, then there is lots to figure out." She gestures to Y/N, laughing with her children as they speak to Michael on the phone. "You're that woman's world." 

"I didn't think she was." 

"Didn't you?" 

"I-I don't know how I messed it all up." 

"Lack of communication possible," Anne offers because she knows it's something she always dealt with when he left home all those years ago. 

"Anne, Gem, and Michal are coming for lunch to spend time with the kids."

Anne claps her hands together out of joy, "wonderful, all my favorite people coming together." 

"You don't mind if Harry and I step out for the afternoon when they arrive, do you?" Y/N asks, knowing Harry and her still have a bit to talk through.

"Not at all." 

Harry gazes at her curiously. What is she up to? "Love,"

"Need some privacy to chat." She tells him.

She's right, but now he wonders what she has planned.

After breakfast, Harry goes up with Wes to help him change and wash up while Y/N helps Josie as she was asking for two braids in her now long hair. As Wes leads the way to Harry’s old room, he’s quiet, and it’s concerning. 

“You alright, bub?” Harry asks as he shuts the door to give them privacy. 

Wes shakes his head, not able to meet Harry’s gaze. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

Wes takes off his top and slips on a white undershirt and then the sweater Harry knows Y/N laid out for him, knowing he’ll want to go outside and keep him warm. 

“You make mummy sad,” he mumbles, but Harry hears him clearly.

Harry flinches at his five-year-old son’s words. It’s sad because his son has been able to notice something he hasn’t. 

“What?” Harry sinks down to his knees right in front of Wes. 

“You make her cry. I hear her sometimes.” He shrugs, and Harry knows he’s failed them. 

“When?” 

“Few times.” 

He’s not specific. It’s more than once, and Harry realizes it’s all his fault his family doesn’t trust him to stay. 

“I love your Mummy,” Harry tells Wes, needing his son to believe him. 

Wes frowns, looking down at Harry, “Mummy says we don’t make those we love cry.” 

Harry tries his best to blink away his tears, “your mummy is right.” He exhales slowly. “I guess it’s because I’m never home. Does that make you sad?” 

Wes nods quickly, “but I have to be strong like Mummy for Jo.”

Harry feels that, like a stab straight to the heart, he doesn’t deserve his perfect family. Not one bit, but he’s going to give it everything he has to make it up to them.

“Oh, my sweet boy, I’m so sorry. I love your Mummy and you and Josie. You’re my life, and I promise to never make her cry again.” Wes nods as if taking in all his words. “I’m not leaving for a long time, and if I do, you will all come with me.” 

Wes pouts, “I like school.” 

Harry laughs. “Course you do. Mummy says you’re doing brilliant. We’ll go in the summer, do a proper holiday together.” 

“Together, good.”

Wes runs out of the room, leaving Harry to cry alone in his old bedroom. He has to fix it. He has so much to make up for.

Harry spends the morning playing blocks with Wes and Josie as Y/N colors in one of Josie's dinosaur books, where she'll occasionally leave Harry to give Y/N a new color or change the page for her. It's a lovely time of aimless talking and spending time with his favorite people. At one point, his mum steals Wes to help her bake cookies that they'll be able to eat after lunch. Soon after, Josie falls asleep on Y/N's lap as she watches Zootopia, a film that Harry remembers seeing multiple times with Wes. Curse child movies for making him more emotional now as a father. 

The day moves at a faster pace when he's having fun, it seems, because the next thing he knows, Gemma and Michal are walking through the door, and she's shouting for her nephew and niece to come greet her. Josie, having woken up around ten minutes ago, stumbles her way to the door and into Michal's open arms. He's quick to prop her on his hip as Josie tells him all about the dream she had. Gemma has all of Wes' attention as he goes on and on about all the backyard's open space as if their home doesn't have twice the distance. Wes says it's because they have cats. 

Y/N and Harry share a look at the same time, something that hadn't happened in a long time. They're both thinking the same thing and know that it might be a nice gift to get them a cat for the holidays. It'll be an excellent addition to the family, giving Scott a new friend to play with. They all eat lunch together, and it's loud, and everyone is talking over each other, mainly Wes and Jo, but Harry swears he's never been happier. The smile on Y/N's face is one he wants her to have every day going forward.

Jo sits in Michal's lap, claiming him as her person for the day, not that he minds. He's a natural with her. After seeing that both her children will be fine, Y/N begins to gather her stuff gesturing for Harry to say his goodbyes and meet her by the door. Y/N gives Josie a big hug and endless kisses before settling her back next to Michal as they do a puzzle together. She lingers a moment too long with Wes whispering before he wraps his arms around her neck in a tight hug that she returns. Y/N smiles at him as she goes to put on his coat. Harry kisses Jo telling her he loves her before heading to Wes. 

"Love you, Wes." 

"Take care of Mummy, Daddy." 

"Always, bub." 

He smiles, letting Harry place a kiss on his cheek.

Going outside, he sees Y/N in the car, adjusting the heat as she waits for him. Once she sees him buckle in his seatbelt, she pulls out, and off they go. He has no clue where she might be taking him, even if he does know the town well. They sit in comfortable silence, with no music playing or small talk. It's like old times when they were able to just enjoy sitting together. 

The drive couldn't have been longer than fifteen minutes when she pulls over and sees a frozen pond. Harry chuckles. He was not at all prepared for this. 

"I have ice skates if you're up for it?"

"Is the ice good?" He wouldn't dare let her skate with the slight chance the ice may crack.

"Mr. Crane promises it'll hold. He says he has been coming out to check it every morning."

With that assurance, he agrees. 

Once the skates are on, his skates feel a bit snug, as if his shoes shrunk, but it means better stability. Lessening the slight fear of tumbling over with nothing to hold him up. Both stay right by each other's side, going slow. They take a few laps testing the ice before gaining more confidence to go faster and a bit further.

"Let's play a game," Y/N suggests. 

"A game?" He repeats. 

"Mhm." 

"Okay, sure." 

Y/N grins at him, and he feels his heart speed up at the sight. It's a marvelous one. 

"Tell me a time you were happy, and I'll counter it with a time when I was sad. Then we'll swap." 

Harry isn't sure, "are you sure it's a good game?" 

Y/N shrugs, "I'm filled with both. Six months was a long time apart."

Harry relents, as always, what Y/N wants, she gets. 

She waits for him to start.

"The recital. It was amazing to see how much Wes has improved." 

"I cried last night. I wasn't expecting you to arrive." 

Harry takes a deep breath, "the drive here was quiet even with your favorite playlist on." 

"Mornings where Jo and Wes climb into bed with me," she answers easily. 

"I don't think our kids like me," Harry says softly. 

Y/N stumbles but rightens herself, not having expected him to say that. He shakes his head, telling her to go on. "Painting with Jo is always fun. She thinks I'm the best artist to ever exist in her eyes." 

Harry nods along as if agreeing. "Seeing how happy my mum makes our kids." 

The game goes on for a while, back and forth. Y/N tells him about all the best moments he's missed, like when Josie learned to jump rope when Wes scored his first goal and how she loves hosting game nights. She also told him that it's hard to find time for herself to not feel overwhelmed, that when their kids cry, she feels like a terrible parent and wishes he was home more. While Harry expressed happy moments on tour when Mitch and him wrote a new song, countered with uncomfortable nights sleeping in the studio. Harry talks about how tour made him realize all those moments weren't his happiest. 

It's Harry's turn once more. He pauses to think and then says something that has been playing on loop in his mind. "Our son thinking, I make you sad." 

Y/N stops skating; he keeps going for a moment, thinking she'll continue in a second instead. She crumbles to the ground crying into her hands. 

"Hey, love, lovie, you're okay," he sinks down next to her, rubbing down her arms. 

"He's so small," she manages to say between sobs. 

"It's all my fault." Harry reminds her. 

"No, I–I'm supposed to be his mum. I'm supposed to be strong for him, and I haven't been." Y/N has never felt pain like this like she's letting down her children. 

That she's failed them. 

"No, you're not supposed to hide like that. Parenting is a partnership, and you've done it alone for too long," Harry tells her, moving her hands away from her face to have her look at him. "It's my fault. Do you understand?" 

She doesn't move an inch, but looking into her eyes, he knows she understands. 

"I love you, Y/N. I do, and I will for the rest of my life, that I can promise you." 

"But–"

"Zero buts." 

"What about your career?"

"We'll decide together. I'm a free man until March when we decide to resign or change up my contract." 

"Then you leave," she states.

"Not anymore." Y/N looks away, not believing a word he says, and that's on him for making her doubt him. Now it's his turn to prove to her he's on her team, that he's on her side. 

"Every decision I make, you'll be there," he promises. 

"You can't not work then…then you'll resent us. You'll resent me," she whispers. 

"I could never," his voice was firm and full of assurance. "Best thing to ever happen to me." Y/N looks into his eyes, trying to find any hint of a lie to make her second guess her choice. She sees the tear streaks down his cheeks and knows he's being genuine. "Jeff knows you're first." 

"Then what's your plan?"

"Tour during summer when our kids aren't in school. Easier for you to join me if you'd be up for it, of course." 

"Summer?" 

"Three to four months, nothing longer than that," he explains. "School year, I'm yours. Full-time stay-at-home-dad."

"Would that make you happy?" 

"You make me happy," he leans his forehead against hers, letting their breaths mix together, "I've prevented myself from that." 

Y/N takes in all he's said. There are a lot of promises he just laid out, but each one sounds realistic and double. She believes in him and their love. 

"Okay." 

"Okay?" 

"I trust you, H." 

"I'm hoping to earn more of that trust back little by little, my heart. I'm okay with graveling if I have to." 

Y/N rolls her eyes because he's unbelievable. Yet, she loves him with everything she has. 

"Come on, you goober. Let's go see our kids." 

As Harry accepts the hand, she stretched out for him, he grabs it but instead of pulling himself up, he pulls her towards him, sending them to lay flat on the ice and her on his chest, his arms secure around her waist. Her laughs bubble around them, and he can't help but join in. 

"I love you, my heart. I promise it will all be different," he vows to her. 

"I love you, Harry. I believe you." She presses herself closer against him. "But anything other than what you promised, and things will not be this easy." 

"Not going to let that happen." 

"Good." 

Y/N isn't sure who closed the gap if it was her or Harry, but all she knows is that kissing Harry is like coming home. It's a warm feeling that spreads all over. It's a safety blanket. 

It's falling in love all over again. She can't wait to fall in love with him for a lifetime.

The drive back to Anne's Y/N let Harry take the wheel even if it was a short drive as opposed to when they left; it was quiet, and the hum of the radio. Now it was flowing conversation and light teasing happening. 

Harry opens the door with a loud "we're back" Y/N and Harry share a look when they can hear the loud patter of footsteps getting closer and closer until they're a few feet in front of them. Jo and Wes see them, and Y/N and Harry kneel to get their kids' height. Both children focus their energy on running straight to Y/N, and if it were anyone else, it would have sent them tumbling back, but Y/N stands as strong as a pillar. 

"Hi, my babies. Were you good?" Y/N asks as she places a kiss on both their cheeks. 

"Yes" and "Always" were the two answers given. They release Y/N to hug Harry, one he basks in and squeezes a bit too tight as Wes and Jo squirm to be released. 

Wes returns to Y/N, placing his small palm on her cheek, "you happy, Mummy?" 

Y/N feels tears well up but does her best to fight them off. Wes has always been in tune with Y/N's emotions and hopes she never has to put them in a position like this again. 

"The happiest," she assures Wes." 

"Good." Wes gives them both a big smile before running off. 

"Up, Daddy?" Josie voices, surprising Harry.

"Of course, angel." He lifts her in his arms with ease standing up with her, hoping Jo never asks to be let down. 

Jo frowns while in his arms, "cold jack." 

Harry looks down at his coat, seeing as he didn't have time to remove it, "my apologies, princess." 

He passes her off for Y/N to hold for a moment when Jo brings her hands up to squish Y/N's cheeks, landing a kiss on her lips. Y/N giggles loving how affectionate Josie has always been.

"Hey, my lips," Harry jokes with his daughter. 

Y/N rolls her eyes, Harry having no idea how possessive his daughter is. Josie plants another chaste kiss on Y/N's lips and then sticks her tongue out at Harry, truly showing her age. 

"Now Josie, she's mine." 

"No," she answers stubbornly.

"Jo."

"My mummy!" She reminds him as if he could forget.

"She's my wife." 

Josie shakes her head, and those words mean nothing to her instead, she buries her face in Y/N's neck, "mine" is all she repeats.

"Ours," Harry compromises. 

She slowly lifts her head, turning to stare at Harry. It's a word she doesn't recognize—something she's never had to associate with her mother. 

"We can share, Mummy, yeah. Like when you share your food with Wes and Nana." Harry explains. 

Josie thinks about it for a few seconds before accepting, "yes." 

Y/N stands there feeling her heart might burst from all the love she's receiving. "We share, Daddy." 

 "Want to go with Daddy again?" He asks with stretched-out hands.

Y/N passed her over, seeing as Jo nodded eagerly at the thought of being back in her father's embrace. Josie snuggles close to his chest, and Y/N knows there is little time before Jo falls asleep. 

"Sleep, please." 

"Yes, bub, I'll take you to sleep." 

"Read?" She asks timidly.

Wes bounces, overhearing his favorite word, "read to us?" 

The smile on Harry's face is unmatched. He's been missing out on so much, but not anymore. "Whatever you want," he promises. 

They begin to walk up the steps together, Harry doing his best to follow both conversations that are happening at once. Y/N stares at them going up together when her three loves turn around and smile at her.

"Coming, my heart?" 

"Coming, Mummy?" Jo stretches out her small hand for Y/N to take. 

The smile on Y/N's face widens, and she begins to feel her heart mending back together. "Nowhere else I would rather be." 

Y/N takes Josie's hand, placing a small kiss on the back before settling it back down. A hand on Wes' shoulder and Harry's back as they all walk up the steps as a family. 

Not perfect, but trying.

thank you so much for reading 💜💜💜💜 i love you endlessly

please reblog and send me a message if you want 😉

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

@sisterreisaid made fun of Canadian coins incorrectly by saying they're named for Looney Toons. This is Incorrect. Let me show you the Correct way to make fun of Canadian money, because today I am an Arbiter of Taste apparently.

The coin on the left is a gold-coloured (brass plated) $1 coin. It has a common loon on it, so it's called the loonie. It was introduced in 1987. As it came out, Canada took our $1 bank notes out of circulation. It's a very common word—financial analysts talking about exchange rates discuss "the strength of the Loonie against the US dollar" (though you never say, like, "That cost me 50 loonies" unless you literally plunked down all those coins)

The coin on the right is the two-toned $2 coin introduced in 1996. People tried giving it lofty and dignified names, or dumb-but-clever names like the "twofer", but Yard Sard effect took over. "Toonies and loonies" is just too easy to say.

The fact that all change under $5 is in coins means you can end up with a really heavy change purse that isn't actually worth much. That and the fact that only our $20 bills are green makes going to America really weird because I get all these $1 bills and then think "Oh, my billfold has lots of green bills in it, I must have lots of money left," and really I just have $8.25.

There is a trick you can do where you heat the toonie up a lot to make its metals expand at different rates and them slam it really hard in the ground to make the brass core come out and then wear the silver rim on the necklace. I was in elementary school when the toonie came out so In my newly-appointed role as Queen of Some of Canada, I'm going to say my experiences are universal and declare this trick only cool to people whose life revolves around the game of Pogs.

So the actual correct way to make fun of the toonie is to put your thumb on the polar bear's head and rotate the coin 90 degrees clockwise so you can see the T-Rex, like this edit I stole off a guy on Twitter:

Another coin you can make fun of is the 2007 Remembrance quarter, the world's first colorized coin, which honestly did look a bit like the poppy was drawn on with a ballpoint pen.

That's not the reason you should make fun of it. For one, it's bad form to make fun of Remembrance stuff for being mawkish and amateur. You just don't do that. The amusing thing is not the art itself, but the audience; when it came out a US intelligence agent received this quarter in their change, and wrote a later-leaked report raising concerns that this coin represented Canada's devious plan to inveigle harmful nanotechnology into the ordinary lives of ordinary people. Which meant we needed to have a national campout and discuss the whole The Americans Are Onto Us situation, which was a good time remembered fondly.

The old $5 bills aren't being made anymore — all our bills are polymer-based now — but if you find an old one, you can turn Sir Wilfrid Laurier into Spock (which is frankly an improvement IMO). It might be technically illegal of you to deface currency or whatever, but it still counts as legal tender.

Finally, there is a persistent rumour that Canadian $100 bills smell faintly of maple. I don't know if it's true, but if anyone wants to send me a few of them I'll happily subject them to the sniff test.

[haunteddollbaby]

heya, mod feya here..

I've been getting ALOT AND I MEAN ALOT OF MASTERMIND RANTARO BRAIN ROT.

So if your okay with that, Can i request for a Mastermind Rantaro x Protag GN Reader headcanons?

Have a nice day! > < 💖💛💙🤍

partners in crime - set it off

the killing games almost done and youre so close to finding the mastermind.

youve been on the hunt for the mastermind for the longest time. its not even that you disliked the killing game in fact you found it amusing, you just liked the feeling of chase you got from trying to figure the mastermind out.

as the ultimate analyst this should have been easy for you but it proved to be quite the challenge. the mastermind was careful to hide their every track and to never reveal a single plan, they never showed very many patterns either.

thankfully your boyfriend, rantaro, was there to help you every step of the way.

rantaro often gave you many helpful hints, they were so helpful in fact that you were curious how he even knew. you even went as far as to joke about him being the perfect mastermind by the way he understood them.

this made you wonder though, what if your boyfriend really was the mastermind? this thought piqued your interest. this would be the ultimate twist, the unknowing girlfriend of the killing game mastermind finds him out and joins him as his ultimate accomplice.

you decided you had to be quick about acting on your suspicions, so unbeknownst to rantaro, you started to more thoroughly investigate him.

this investigation lead to you finding a monokuma remote in his room, you happily grab the remote and go to find your boyfriend. when you find him you tell him exactly what you found,

"rantaro guess what i found?" you paused, "a monokuma remote! this is essential to our investigation and the place i found it at will shock you even more! it was in your room, thats just crazy isnt it?"

rantaro just smiled at you, proud of your work. he knew you werent the type to snitch on him to the rest, thats the reason he decided to play this game with you anyway. ok mr ik evrythng 🙄 /j.

"wow, how do you think it got there y/n? i bet it was kaede! shes tried to kill me because she thought i was the mastermind, maybe shes trying to frame me too!"

"ha ha so funny. now give yourself up, you know its you rantaro ;p." you say, now bored of his theatrics.

"alright alright, its me i did it."

"great!" you smiled, "so now whats our next plan?"

rantaro returns with his own grin, "how about i tell you in my room, partner in crime <3?"

this killing game was about to get alot funner, well atleast for you and rantaro. the rest of the world should beware.

i understand the struggle of rantaro brainrot too 😭. this a little short, srry if you wanted it longer. you werent too specific with your request, so i did wtv i wanted :p. thank you for requesting, and i hope you have a vv nice day as well <3 !

masterpost

[monicashipslokius]

“Kneel.”

Loki looks at them, these simple mortal beings. So primitive. Like ants, running loose, lost without a queen. But they needn’t fear any longer. Loki is here, and will be their leader now. They will find purpose - glorious purpose - under their rule.

“Kneel!” Loki says again, louder, and finally they fall into line. One after the next, down to their knees, to praise -

“Um. Excuse me. Uh, sorry. This is awkward.” A man steps away from the rest. He’s wearing a dreary brown suit with a tie that needs fixing. Gray hair. Mustache. A typical, everyday Midgardian.

Loki should silence him at once. And yet - they still their hand. There’s something oddly... compelling about this fumbling oaf. Perhaps it’s the way he’s looking at Loki. Not with fear, but with interest. Curiosity. Almost a quiet understanding.

No one ever looks at Loki like that.

The man rubs the back of his neck. “It’s just that. Well. I think I might be your soulmate?”

Someone in the crowd shushes him.

Another asks, “Are you crazy?”

A woman hisses, “Mobius. There’s no way -”

The man - Mobius - glances back at her and shrugs. “So they’re ambitious.”

“They’re going to kill you.”

“Nah.” Mobius turns back to Loki. “Just a little pussycat.”

He starts forward, gently moving through the kneeling crowd, whispering, “Excuse me, pardon me, coming through,” on his way to the front.

Loki tracks his every step, watchful for any sign of trickery, but they can detect no magic on this mortal. The absolute gall of this man, to approach Loki - child of Asgard, god of mischief - as if they are equals.

Loki shouldn’t just silence him, they should scorch him from the whole of the realms.

But then Mobius smiles at Loki, a big, wide thing that twists Loki up inside. Perhaps they will wait to destroy him, if only for a moment, if only to hear him out. Loki considers themself a fair god, after all.

Listening. Then destruction.

“Speak, mortal,” Loki commands. “If that is what you desire. But know your life hangs on your words.”

Mobius looks at Loki, watching for a moment, smile never dimming. “Oh, yeah. You’re definitely the one.”

“I am all things,” Loki says, ever magnanimous.

Mobius points at them. “You’re my soulmate.”

Loki frowns. “I am not.” Then they frown harder. They know lies well, and that  felt like a big one.

But that couldn’t be.

“I have no soulmate,” Loki says, ignoring the familiar sting that comes with the words. Words repeated again and again, as all the seers in Asgard looked into their future and saw them standing alone.

Mobius’s smile softens. “Are you sure about that?”

No. Not really. How many years have passed since Loki last had the seers check? Is it possible... perhaps Mobius had been born in that time? He is but a mortal. How old could he be? 40 years? 50? The blink of an eye.

Mobius holds out a hand. “Wouldn’t you like to check?” That suit truly is ridiculous, outdated and well-worn. If they are soulmates, Loki will take him to Asgard at once and buy him -

Loki forces an abrupt stop to their own thoughts. This is deception, meant to shake them from their true purpose.

“Once I discover you are deceiving me, I will purge you from existence.”

“Okay, sure. Whatever you want.” Mobius waves his hand impatiently. “Isn’t worth trying? Then, you know, purge from existence and all that...”

“Mobius,” the same woman whisper-yells from the crowd.

Mobius rolls his eyes. “Work friend. She’s very protective.”

“She has reason to be,” Loki says, looking at that offered hand. At the long, steady fingers, the delicate wrist. Mortals are such fragile things. Beings to be conquered. Not loved.

And yet.

Loki lifts a hand. They rub their thumb and forefinger together. They will attempt a small touch for curiosity’s sake. Then, the promised destruction.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Loki asks.

“No. Excited, maybe. Not everyday you meet your soulmate.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I’m feeling confident.”

Loki swallows hard. Then they reach out. They don’t take Mobius’s hand, not fully. They merely brush the pad of one finger to the edge of his thumb.

It is enough.

Visions flood through their mind. Mobius laughing. Mobius taking Loki’s hand, pressing his lips to their knuckles, one after the next. Mobius leaning in and kissing them on their lips. Mobius pressing Loki against a wall, and Loki letting themself be pressed.

“I love you,” Mobius says under cover of darkness, in the light of day, out in the ocean on the back of some type of motorized water vehicle. “I love you,” again and again, filling the dark depths of Loki’s heart until it overflows, bursting with happiness. With immeasurable love.

Loki snaps back to the present and slowly, so slowly, withdraws their hand.

Mobius’s smile could light the whole city. “I knew it was you.”

Loki opens their mouth to speak, but what comes out is a gasped breath, very near a sob. The love from the vision has vanished, but the phantom feel of it has Loki wanting.

Deception. Has to be. But they are immune to enchantment. And there’s no magic on this man.

To be loved like that. To be held and... cherished. Even now, Mobius looks at them like they hold of all of his hopes and dreams. Loki wonders how they are looking back.

“It’s okay.” Mobius holds up both hands now, like placating a wounded animal. “I know it’s overwhelming.” Mobius takes a small step forward. Loki does too. Mobius is right there. A promise of a life Loki never thought they’d have - right there.

“Mobius,” Loki says, and the name is perfect on their tongue. They could say it a hundred times more, a thousand. They are desperate to. “Mobius.”

“I’m right here.” Mobius steps closer. Loki reaches and grabs his forearm, bunching a handful of that ugly sleeve into their fist. “I’ve got you.”

“You cannot imagine how long -”

“Step away from him,” comes a new, authoritative voice. This one, like Mobius, lacks fear, but unlike Mobius, is decidedly not Loki’s soulmate.

“We’re kind of in the middle of something,” Mobius says over his shoulder, to Captain America. “Could you give us a minute?”

Captain America does not give them a minute. “Release the citizen, Loki.”

“Wow, you are really misreading the situation,” Mobius says.

In the sky, a flying vehicle arms its weapons. Every nerve in Loki’s body stands on end, seeing Mobius in the way of it.

Loki yanks Mobius forward, closer to him, then behind him, shielding him with their body.

“Loki!” Mobius starts.

But its too late. Captain America is moving closer. Loki blocks some of his blows, misses a few others. He’s strong, but not on the level of a god. Not usually. But Loki keeps leaving themself open to protect the vulnerable mortal behind them. Loki doesn’t think Captain America would hurt Mobius, but the risk is too great. The cost is too high for Loki to guess wrong.

The sudden arrival of Tony Stark only makes matters more difficult.

When Loki raises their hands in defeat, Mobius storms around them.

“Mobius,” Loki says in alarm. Mobius is now in the way of far too many weapons. Does he not understand how fragile he is? Or how important?

“I got this, Loki,” Mobius tells them. To the others, “Now everybody hold on a minute.”

“Please move yourself to safety, citizen,” Captain America says.

“I’m perfectly safe right here.”

“Standing right there is how you get a knife in the back,” Tony Stark says.

“Loki won’t hurt me.”

“He must be brainwashed,” Captain America says.

Mobius huffs out a frustrated breath. “You aren’t listening. Loki is my soulmate.”

Tony Stark looks at Captain America. “Definitely brainwashed.” He clears his throat. “But I’ll bite. Who exactly are you?”

“Mobius M. Mobius.”

“Uh, huh. So your parents hated you,” Tony Stark says. Before Mobius can answer, Tony asks, “And what do you do, Mobius M. Mobius?”

“I’m a data analyst for a corporate conglomerate.”

“Right,” Tony Stark says. “Loki of Asgard forever bound to Mobius M. Mobius, the data analyst. Sounds fake, but okay.”

Mobius’s shoulders sink. “You don’t have to be rude about it.”

Annoyance flares hot under Loki’s skin. Mobius is perfect and how dare these simpletons insinuate otherwise. How dare they make him feel anything less than he is.

Loki takes a strong step forward, but Mobius catches sight of them first and places a hand on their chest, stilling them. Loki holds, only for Mobius’s sake.

“It’s no big deal,” Mobius says.

“They cannot speak to you like that. You are the soulmate of a god.”

“I’m not thrilled about it either. Data analysis is a respectable line of work. I’ve saved my company hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

Loki nods along, hoping they look impressed enough to spare Mobius’s feelings, when truly they have no idea what he is talking about. But whatever restores Mobius’s confidence is what they will do.

“Huh,” says Tony Stark. “Pencil pusher just stopped the god of mischief with a touch. You see that?”

“I saw it,” says Captain America. “I don’t think they’re lying.”

Mobius presses his lips together in a hard line before taking a breath and saying, “Loki, you have magic, right? Can you like...” He holds up his hands and waggles his fingers. “Magic us out of here. I think it’s getting a little crowded. Some conversations are supposed to be private.”

Loki likes the idea of... talking, but they had a plan when they came here today.

Loki looks at the scepter. At the people, no longer kneeling. At Captain America and Tony Stark, arguing about Mobius. And then, finally, they look at Mobius himself, with his calm, steady presence, ever-soft smile, and ill-fitting suit.

Loki meant to conquer all of Midgard. And this, being captured, was part of the plan. But. Perhaps. What’s waiting another day? Or two.

They very well can’t let Mobius be captured. To think of it, most of their plans might need changing now.

“Hold onto me,” Loki says.

“Happily.” Mobius goes easily into their arms.

And Loki holds tight as they magic away.