Its Finally Here!

It’s finally here!

My favorite time of year… time for spreadsheets and statistics! This is my second year sending out this spreadsheet for people to use, and it’s got just about everything I could think of (until I think of something new). You can use this sheet to keep track of:

Annual stats

Monthly stats

Project stats

Project stats

(New!) Publications submissions

And most of it is automated to make everything as easy as possible! It’s free to use but my Ko-Fi is linked in case anyone wants to contribute to my little writing fund. You can copy the template to use for yourself, and let me know if you have any questions!

binding characters to curses brings me joy

scene cards

scene cards here (just make a copy of the doc).

i found this really helpful when outlining my story, so i thought i'd share it with you guys. all novels / plots are written with a cause and effect that keeps the events going, and the best novels (from what i found) focus on internal character drive.

the top section focuses on the cause and effect for the plot, or the external action that you want to happen within your scene. simultaneously, the bottom section focuses on the third rail, or your character's arc. the action should matter to them, either by causing them to retaliate, devise another plan, or just them taking a step of overcoming their misbelief.

this scene card was taken from story genius by lisa cron, and i thought it might help. please take all this information with a grain of salt, and maybe use it in a way that'll work best for you! <3

if this information helped, you can: buy me a kofi | find me on insta

sometimes it's okay to give yourself a one-day break for writing even if you made a deal with yourself

but this is just probably me justifying not writing today

hoax [ari levinson] [three]

hoax | trapped in an arranged marriage and unrequited love, you'd do anything to stop making ari despise you.

pairing | dark!ari x naive!sunshine!reader

warnings | so much angst it's unreal, depression, miscarriage, car accident, 18+

notes | i return with an apology for taking so long and also a future apology for containing so much angst. please note that this chapter has very short sections, mostly cause the reader's thought process comes in bits and pieces before exploding later, and as she starts on her own journey of independence. on a brighter note, i ended it being pretty hopeful... ?

buy me a kofi! drabble requests/asks! main!

CONT.

When you wake, the world is a nightmare. There’s a heart monitor beeping beside you, an IV injection in your arm, the lights are too bright, and you can’t find anything positive about this situation right now because you’re so groggy. It feel like the world fell on your head and shattered your bones. Your lower area hurts like hell—

—the baby.

Your eyes flutter open, and you hear a deep voice calling your name, whispering it. Bringing you back, helping you breathe, gripping your hand. Your hand is curled around his finger. His index finger. It’s locked tight, and like a steady rope, you grasp onto it.

Ari. 

He freezes when you stare at him directly. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, hair ruffled and new wrinkle lines on his face. He stares at you like you died and came back to life. 

“You…” His voice cracks. 

And for the first time since you met him, he breaks down and cries.

The nightmare worsens. You stare at the wall. You can’t digest anything. It’s been another week—maybe two. Time is flimsy now.

“Now that she lost her baby…” 

“Miscarriage…”

“Depression…”

All you hear are bits and pieces of information that they feed to Ari throughout the days. He refuses to leave your side. The most contact that you two have is you latching onto his wrist—his index finger—and communicating through your eyes. 

Sometimes they mean something: Ari will lurch to get some water, or dab your face with a towel. Other times, they don’t: they’re a silent communication of your pain. Those times, quiet tears streak down your cheeks as you mourn for your baby, for yourself, and for him. Those times, Ari feels like his heart is breaking—another sin he needs to take to the grave. 

Those times, you wonder why you just didn’t die. 

On top of that, you’ve lost your voice. 

Not lost it, but you just don’t want to speak. Words are meaningless, anyways. The words you loved so much, written on the page, are a fluke. Like a temporary high that makes you feel good, but then reality crashes down.

Sharon comes by.

There’s a ring on her finger. 

Her expression is one of guilt.

You throw a cup at her.

It hits the wall.

Ari wakes up from dozing off in the chair next to you. 

When you sleep, you feel his lips touch your forehead. You dream of his endless apologies, and hallucinate him crying again. 

In the morning, you stare at him dozing and reach up to cup his cheek in your hand. 

You hope he’s happy with her. 

You’re discharged. Luckily, no major areas are shattered. Even though you wobble and clutch Ari’s arm to help you walk, overall you’re fine. 

It’s a miracle you’re alive—even more so that you’re mostly fine, recovering rapidly in the hospital.

But your baby is gone.

And that’s the first word you say, “The baby.” 

Your voice is hoarse, cracking. You crumple in the living, not caring who is watching, who’s judging you.

Fuck them. Fuck them all. 

“What the fuck is going on?” You hear Ari shout through the kitchen. He rushes over to you and cradles you to his chest. His heart is beating rapidly. You tremble. 

“The baby,” you repeat, and cry into his chest. “The baby.”

“It’s okay,” Ari murmurs. He holds onto you tight, like he still can’t believe you’re here. “You’re okay. You’re here.”

But you’re not. Not really. 

The last six months comes in bits and pieces, back to you now. Ari was in and out, mostly there, but you were so numb that you couldn’t remember or process anything. 

You see a therapist. You come to terms with your loss. You start rebuilding yourself. 

Hope flickers again. 

“Hey, sugar.” Andy leans his hip against the counter, sliding a glass your way. In one swift motion, you grab it and refill the beer, sliding it back to him across the countertop.

“That was pretty smooth, wasn’t it?” You ask, excitement in your voice. You saw Nat perfect the act, and worked on doing it, too. Andy often helped—it’s nice because he’s not a lightweight, either, and always taking care of you. It feels nice to have someone hover over you and catch you when you’re tripping—something Natasha usually does. Her and Andy shift in watching over you, had been for the last few months, and you appreciate it.

Genuinely. 

Even in this dingy bar, working became your happy place. You love the jovial atmosphere, the honesty lurking in the walls and spilling out when someone has one too many drinks. It’s a nice change to see everyone’s flaws so out in the open, when you’re suffocating and being concealed within Ari’s home. 

And it’s feels wonderful to laugh—have it bounce off the walls—and joke around with people who won’t judge you. 

“It was,” Andy replies, leaning in closer, a smirk on his face. “You gonna let me walk you home tonight, or reject me again?”

You shift on your feet and glance down at your ring. “Sorry, Andy. I’m married.” 

But are you? Darkness lurks in the corner of your mind, the one you tried to shut out for months. 

The truth is, you’re lonely. Even though your parents and brother are ruthless politicians, you grew up dreaming of fairytale romances. You want to hold someone’s hand. You want to cuddle with them. You want to tell them about your day and gasp over the most meticulous things. You want to do the simplest tasks together, like making breakfast.

You want to see someone grow, and grow old with them. 

“Sugar,” he murmurs, clasping your hand. His thumb runs over your ring. “If your husband is letting you work here with a bunch of drunk men—”

“He trusts me,” you defend. You always defend Ari.

Even if he’ll never defend you. 

Now you wonder if this is out of instinct, or if you truly believe the words you say about your husband. 

“It’s not about trusting you, darling.” Andy laughs softly. “It’s about trusting these men who can force themselves on you in a heartbeat. It’s about protecting you—and fuck, I think I’d give my life to do that.”

You gently tug away from his hold. But he notices, letting you slip away for the moment. 

“I’m flattered,” you mumble. “But like I said, I’m married.” 

“Alright,” the man is back to his usual self, grinning at you. “I can respect that for tonight.” 

You aren’t sure what to categorize this as, actually.

Your body trembles against Andy’s, and you can’t help but bury your nose into his chest. The cold air stinging your nose reminds you all too well of the deep breaths you inhaled when the gun pressed against your forehead just moments ago. The cool metal against you haunted you, forcing you to seek the warmth of a heartbeat.

Any heartbeat. Even if this felt wrong. 

Thank God Andy—your coworker—arrived the time he did. 

Click. Give me what I want. You squeeze your eyes shut as you quiver again. Even the slightest twitch sent pain throughout your body. Your shoulders hurt from how he shoved you against the wall, and your elbow stung from the scratch the robber gave you, forcing you on the ground as you attempt to writhe away from him. 

Guess coming home late did turn out to be dangerous after all. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Ari booms—and you jolt. So out of it, you didn’t realize that Andy walked you up to the door of his mansion. You knew you two were close by, but you didn’t even register the gates creaking open. 

This all feels like a dream. 

Ari’s eyes rove over you, and you wince, suddenly self-conscious. This isn’t how you wanted to appear to him. You don’t want him to lose more trust in you than he already does. 

Your outfit is also disheveled, the buttons of your top nearly ripped off, heel broken from how much you ran. 

You never felt such genuine fear when running. The need to look forward and survive became your priority in an instant. Even the thought of looking back caused you to stumble, and you forced yourself to think about only one thing: coming home. 

Then the stranger grabbed your collar. 

And your face when he punched you. Your jaw is no doubt tender and bruised. The ghost of his fingertips clenching your jaw before he nearly kissed you lingers along with the fear of acceptance at the time. You were going to give in, going to give up. You curled up on the ground, digging your face into the cold cement, thinking that maybe if the man wasn’t too rough, if you shut down, you could make it out alive.

That maybe once he used you and disposed of you like everyone else did, it’d be okay. You could make it through, time and time again.

He acts before you can say anything. In the blink of an eye, Ari grabs your coworker and punches him right in the nose. There’s a defining crack in the air, and before Andy can even get himself together, Ari shoves him against the door. His head bangs against the hard wood, and a groan fills the air.

“I’ll kill you,” Ari’s voice is deadly. Sure. He doesn’t even let the man move an inch, hand wrapped around Andy’s neck. 

“Ari!” You grab his arm, attempting to retract him from Andy. It’s no use, but it does catch his attention. With the porch light washing over your face, he can see more clearly the purple staining your face, the panic in your eyes. Feel the tremors in your fingertips as you run on adrenaline, the expression of someone who’s minutes from breaking down.

And damn if it doesn’t feel like a blow to the chest.

It hits him: he wasn’t there to protect you. He wasn’t there to fix it, to prevent the issue, to shield you so that you wouldn’t have such plain fear written all over your face. 

His hand tightens around your coworker’s neck. 

“Ari, please. It’s not a big deal, I swear.” 

Not a big deal? Not a fucking big deal? A quick up and down of your body and he can see the scabs forming on your arms, fingerprints around your wrists, the slight limp in your step. With the way you’re talking right now, it’s like you tripped over a tile.

Laughable, when this is anything but. 

“Yes,” you murmur. “Andy came and saved me just in time.”

He freezes. Just. In. Time. Ari shoves your coworker to the ground and sweeps you up. Eyes wide, you clutch his shoulders when he says, “Get him out of here. I never want to see him again.” 

There’s no talk between the two of you. Just the click of his shoes as he carries you, almost like you’re a delicate flower, to the counter. He places a towel on it before setting you down gently, taking your wrist in his hand. Another reaches up to graze the corner of your jaw—you wince. 

“It still hurts a bit,” you manage, choking on the pain. 

Ari’s eyes blaze again—you swear he’s going to murder someone tonight. 

“I can’t believe this,” he mutters, hanging his head. 

“At least they didn’t rob too much from me, right?” You joke, but your body is still trembling. 

Is she talking about money? He hadn’t even been thinking about it, yet of course you would still think that this is what this arrangement is about. Hadn’t notice any of the changes in him, how he’s trying. The chill he felt when he saw you hanging onto another man, barely even able to stand up straight. 

“You won’t see him anymore, you hear me?” 

“Who? Andy?”

“Whoever the fuck that man is.” 

Excuse me? You blink, taking in the hard lines of his jaw and no-nonsense glare. 

“No,” you snap. Immediately, regret fills you when he turns around, an eyebrow raised. Uh oh. But you’re too angry to apologize. For once, you want to make him understand. “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

“So what? You want your independence back? You see how far that got you, huh? It almost got you killed tonight.”

“It was mine first!” You shout, and the pain echoes throughout his library. And I didn’t even want it. I wanted you. “You can’t control me!” 

You know you’re acting like a brat for no reason. You should have a better control of your emotions, but you hated this. Hated how you had nobody to rely on. How Ari is scolding you when you want comfort right now. 

And the fact that you died—God, almost. You had shitty luck, dying and coming back only to face this again. There are just some unlucky people in the universe, and you knew you were one of them. 

“Besides,” you whimper. You—you told me I should be more independent. That I shouldn’t get in your way and spend your money. So that’s what I’m doing.”’

Ari can’t even say anything—the words won’t come out. How can he say that he feels like an asshole for the way he treated you for the past few months? He can’t believe that he thought that you were a part of your brother’s blackmail, when you’re a pawn. A pawn that carries so much guilt. 

He tried to make up for the past few months by treating you like he'd treat any other human being—nodding at you in the halls, or stopping to ask how your day is—and you looked at him like he hung the stars for you. You were that desperate to get along. 

And fuck, that made his heart ache. Because you should have gotten that basic courtesy. You should’ve complained more, acted out more. 

But seeing you now, he knows you internalized the pain. Swallowed every bit of his anger and kept it all to yourself. 

He doesn’t even know if Sharon will do that. 

Before you can stop them, tears start streaming down your eyes. You were going to die today, unloved. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” you sob, putting your head in your hands. You have no idea what “this” is. Being married? Being unloved? Being ignored? Treated like dirt? “I just want—I just want someone to tell me it’s okay. Someone who’ll hug me and- and—”

Ari crushes you against his chest, strong arms wrapping around you. Out of pity, you know that much. But his heartbeat makes it feel like you arrived home. His smell that you’re breathing in erases the stench of trash from the alleyway. The warmth radiating from his suit replaces the cool metal of the gun. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice breaking. A change from the domineering and charismatic man that everyone else has known. “Fuck, I— You don’t understand how sorry I am. I should’ve treated you better since you came here, I should’ve protected you, I should’ve cut things off with Sharon, I should’ve realized… I should’ve realized that in pushing you away from myself, I broke you, too. But baby, I’ll do anything to fix this.”

And you cry. You cry knowing that this will never happen again, that he’ll never sympathize with you like this ever. You cry because you’ll never be home to him.

You cry because this simple gesture is breaking you. 

It’s been a few days since the incident. When you meet Ari in the halls, he does a visual check-up on you until he’s satisfied. Sometimes he’d ask if you ate the medicine the doctor prescribed you, if you slept okay. Once you answered his questions, he’d grunt and walk away. You took a week off of work, Natasha telling you to get better.

Neither of you are talking about what happened, the moment between the two of you. But you remember walking into your room yesterday, the black credit card on your nightstand, mattress topper placed in its proper place. 

And that makes you spiral. You remember when you used to clench his arms when he fucked you, stared into his eyes, hoping, please choose me. 

This is me trying. 

And you tried. With the baby. With everything.

But then the car accident happened, and your relationship did a 360. You turned away, while Ari took care of you. The last few months were fuzzy, but the need for Ari was still just as strong. But you’re scared for the moment that he’ll turn away. Be gone the moment you needed saving again.

You don’t want to lose yourself in loving him again. 

“Are you heading out tonight?” You ask, shoving around the food on your plate. Your appetite’s disappeared drastically, and you force yourself to eat the nutrients… only to throw some of it up. Ari leaving for his ex-girlfriend didn’t help, but you can’t complain when you were the one who basically tore them apart, right? As a romanticist, you are the villain in the story: the least you could do is not complain when he leaves. 

The man in front of you—who you can’t believe you married—grunts. “I’ll be back.”

“Have fun with—” You pause. Are you two even close enough for you to call his ex-girlfriend’s name? Still his current lover. You mull over the last few weeks, where you headed to the doctor’s appointment together and ate dinner in respective silence. It was pretty nice, actually. The first dinner that Ari stayed through. He probably hated looking at you, but he did, for a whole hour and a half.

“Sharon,” you blurt as the man moves to open the door. “I genuinely mean it, I swear. I hope you have a good time with her.” 

The smile you’re wearing resembles more of a grimace, but it’s fine. It’s fine. At the very least, you wanted to be friends before the baby came. You just have to keep the act up for a few more minutes, until Ari is gone. Then you can break down all you want. 

Ari pauses from where he is. Turns. His voice is low when he asks, “You think I’m visiting Sharon?”

It’s fine. He didn’t want you to know. It’s fine. 

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” you force out a laugh. “She did come first in your life, and I might have to concede to that. I mean, I’m sure that if I had a lover—”

“Fuck no,” his voice slices through and adds to the tense atmosphere. “You have someone else?”

Andy, he thinks while clenching his teeth. Fucking Andy thinking he’s good enough for you and being cocky for no fucking reason. He’ll tear him apart tonight—the man already had several violations.

Oh, God, this is awkward. And he looks ready to shoot you. “Uh, no, but I’m just saying that if you have one there’s nothing wrong with… it?” 

He stares at you for a few seconds. Clenches his jaw. “I’m not visiting fucking Sharon.”

The door slams in his wake. 

I’ve been at war, you want to tell him. Not just with Ari, but with myself. With the world. 

“Ari…” You slide over the divorce papers, the discreet ones you got with the help of Natasha. He doesn’t glance at the papers at first, but you make sure it catches his eye when you close his laptop, putting this on top. 

There’s an extended silence between the two of you, and it’s like the walls are caving in around you. 

“I think it’s time,” you whisper, unable to make your voice louder. There’s something about this profound silence that causes your heart to beat a little faster, hands to shake a little more. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

His eyes drag from the paper to yours. You swear you see a flicker of heartache, but you doubt it. 

“No.” 

“No?”

“Did you not hear me?” He snaps. “We’re not going to divorce.” 

“Why not?”

“Because I’m your husband!” 

“No,” you laugh, cynical, and cover your hand over your forehead. “I didn’t have a husband. I may have fought for one, but he was never there.”

“Is this because of the baby—”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Ari.” Your voice cracks. “If someone saw me like this, they’d wonder why I didn’t leave months ago. They’d think I’m stupid for wasting my life away for someone.” Your lower lip trembles. “You know what’s funny? I still would. Waste my life away for that someone like an idiot.”

He’s silent. You sink to your knees, almost begging him. “Please. I don’t think either of us can pretend that we’re right for each other. Maybe in another universe we are. Wrong place, wrong time, you know? But if you liked me even a little bit… I hope you can sign.”  

“I won’t,” he says.

“Is this really about a child, Ari?” You whisper. “Or is this something more?”

Ari doesn’t say anything more, but his eyes come to meet yours. And for the first time, you see a hint of vulnerability in them—emotions that he’s choosing to show you. You’re always weak when someone tells you how they feel, suddenly desperate to do anything for them as long as they crack a smile. For a long time, that’s what you felt about Ari. Loved him so much that you couldn’t breathe, would stop if he told you to.

“Maybe,” you amend. “Maybe we just need some time away from each other then. To think about it, and to have a clean slate.” 

He shakes his head, and you grip his index finger, breath hitching. The first time you’ve gripped his finger like that was when you were first married and went out on the streets so the tabloids can capture your “post honeymoon phase.” When the paparazzi got too close, you, not used to the spotlight, wrapped your hands around his index finger. And he let you hold on tight, like a single thread connecting the two of you. On that day, you felt protecting. Felt safe. 

And you remember: doing that same gesture in the hospital. He gripped your hand like it was a lifeline to your heart. You gripped it like he was a steady rock that’ll keep you safe, hoping that he’d protect your heart, too. 

You clear your throat. “I haven’t asked for much since I came here. I’ve been living off of my own expense and the basics that you’ve provided me, and for that I’ll be grateful. But what if I ask for more? What if I want Sharon gone? What will you do then?”

Ari repeats, “I can’t let you leave.”

“But you can’t make me any promises, either.”

“I can,” he says. “I’ll honor our vows—”

“They’ve all been broken,” you murmur, mustering a soft smile. “I think we both need time to consider the divorce Ari. Maybe as the seasons pass, we’ll get used to it.”

This fight will go around in circles, you can see it. So when he opens his mouth, you squeeze his fingers like you did that day. Ari glances down, eyebrows drawn together. For a second, you wonder if he remembers that initial moment himself. If that moment, and the one at the hospital, was as pivotal to him as it was to you. 

Especially when he curls that finger around your hand like he used to.

When he was younger, Ari’s parents divorced. It’s not something he’s proud of admitting, and it’s not a traumatic memory that haunts him, either. It’s just that one day, he came home, and his parents announced it to him. His dad had been cheating on his mother with his secretary—typical and something Ari kept to himself for months. Not like it was a family secret, either—he heard his mother’s cries during the night, but didn’t say much because she kept a strong front. 

If someone asked him who he wanted to live with, he would’ve chose his mom.

He got Dad. 

Mom moved out with all her stuff, the things that made the house cozy and livable. Mom moved out without him because when they went to court, Dad won, since Mom didn’t have a reliable income. Mom held him to his chest and cried her eyes out, so much so his hair was as wet as coming out of the shower. 

Bit by bit, the house became gray and empty. Dirty. Cluttered. Loud, with Dad yelling at the housemaids he fucked and forgetting about Ari unless he fucked up, too. 

More and more, he yearned for his mother. The mother who promised she would come back for him. 

His younger self repeated the words like a mantra: Mom loved him. Mom came back for him every weekend when Dad was out. Mom brought him whatever bills she had and made sure he ate. Mom cleaned his room. Mom hugged him. Mom smelled like lavender. Mom—

Mom died three months later from a car accident. His father forgot about him, remarried, and had a younger sister. One Ari adored but felt too fucked up to take care of. 

And then, Sharon came along and pieced it all together. 

But now, you’re leaving. You who brought home ridiculous things from thrift stores or who knows where and hung abstract paintings in the living room because then you both gave off the image as being “philosophical.” You who drew little hearts next to your name and Levinson in your little notebook he kept snooping at. You who gifted him the brightest smiles that he now craves, reserved just for him. 

You who looked at him as if he hung the stars and moon for you. 

The pictures disappear. The smell of you disappears. The little sweaters and blankets you scatter around the house because you get cold easily disappears. The baby books disappear. 

All that remains is a stuffed teddy bear in the corner of your room—the one he gave you as a wedding gift. You adored it. It was always nearby you, and you constantly commented that you’d give it to the baby when it was born. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

He fucked up.

He fucked up everything.

He breathed in your scent from the fucking teddy bear, breath releasing almost in a whimper.

He craves you. 

He’s obsessed now.

Ari glances at the shelf above the fireplace he installed in the living room. At the wedding picture the two of you took, the bright smile you wore, your head leaning on his pecs as he towered over you. 

He got to where he was through feral determination, starting from the ground up when his father went bankrupt. He raised his sister and himself, got a scholarship, threw away everybody who wasn’t useful to his career. Retracted himself. Up until now, he thought Sharon—Sharon who stuck with him through everything—was the one person he could rely on. 

But Sharon changed.

And so did he. 

Staring down at the stuffed animal, he released a bitter laugh. 

“What am I doing, talking to a stuffed animal?” He muttered. 

But it was symbol.

He’ll get you back. He’ll become worthy of you. 

He’ll honor his vows. 

“You know, you’re more in tune with your emotions now, and I don’t know if I like it,” Nat says, munching on a salad. “It’s like you’re a woman constantly on her period so you either get hysterical or cry over everything.”

You punch her—lightly. But Nat, always the dramatic one, wobbles over her stool and makes a dramatic cry of falling to the ground.

“She hit me!” She cries out, and you laugh. 

“I did not.” You take a bite of your own salad. “And it’s not that, but I feel sorry that there’s two people in this small apartment now…”

You brought all your stuff over, or most of it. Some of it you wanted to leave behind, but they were ambiguous items like a pillow or a dish or a coffee mug. Besides, Natasha’s apartment was small, with one room and a living room and a counter dividing between it and the kitchen. You both alternated sleeping on the couch and the sofa, and on Fridays, you cleaned the place. 

Nat blew out a breath. “Nah, it’s so much easier to commute with you to and fro from work now. Plus, I was thinking about renting this place out. It’s so much easier when I have a reliable income, I mean roommate, to help me pay rent.”

“Have I been a bank account to you all this time?”

“Now, now,” she wiggles a finger. “I did not let you live with me so you could get snarky. Geez, what happened to the sunshine you?”

You smile at that—she’s slowly coming back, bit by bit. Every day, the hollow ache from being away from Ari grows, but you’re returning.

Love comes at the price, you realize.

You both quiet down, but then Natasha pipes up, “Have you heard from him?” 

It’s been a month. 

“No,” you whisper. 

Your phone pings.

A text.

From Ari. 

You left this here. 

It was a picture your wedding ring next to your stuffed teddy. 

Then: we need to talk. 

Is there going to be a part 3 to hoax? It’s sooooo good!!!

there is going to be a part 3! and thank you sooo much !!