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Who I write for

Hi!! since some people are following me on here now, I thought it’d be a good idea to make a list of books/shows I’m willing to write for. If there’s something you’d like to request that’s not on this list feel free to! I’ll consider anything and only turn down things I feel like I don’t know well enough to do well :))

List of books/shows I write for: 

- Shadow and bone

- Six of Crows

- ACOTAR

- The Cruel Prince

- The Invisible Life of Addie Larue 

- Harry Potter

- The Selection 

- Criminal Minds

- Marvel/MCU

- You 

- Stranger Things 

- Caraval

- I’m willing to do more OC based writing like (insert choice fictional being for example fae) x reader, but I haven’t done much of that in the past  :) 

YALL I JUST WATCHED THE FIRST EPISODE OF SEASON 3 OF YOU AND WHEN I SAY I WANT TO WRITE A FIC FOR IT AH!! IS THAT LIKE A DUMB IDEA??

Bloodroot in the Suburbs -  Prologue

a/n veryyy different than anything I’ve ever written before but the new season of You has me feeling a certain way lmao 

series summary: Bloodroots are such a strange flower--white and innocent looking yet undeniably poisonous. It has no place in the safest neighborhood in CA. Then again, neither do you. The suburbs are killing you, and no one understands that...at least you think no one does. I see that in the way you roll your eyes when your sister presses the issue of when you’re going to get back on your feet. I see that restlessness when you’re in the small plot of land that you’ve actually managed to turn into some type of garden. I see you; I understand you. And if it wasn’t for the confines I bear to protect my son, I’d let you know that. But for now, I settle for knowing that the two of us are equally trapped, and I take some solace in that. I feel bad about it, I do, considering that from what I’ve gathered you spent most of your life being considered the perfect, ideal golden girl that was nothing but potential. And now you’re no longer the gifted child, the one that’s first to raise their tiny hand in class, the one that knows everything. But that’s okay--because I’ll make my selfishness up to you. 

chapter summary: Y/n meets a neighbor, and finally gets a part time job so that her sister will leave her alone. Little does she know she just agreed to spend most of her free time in a lion’s den. 

Y/n’s POV. 

I remember a time in which my sister and I were the same. Or at least similar. A time in which we could share stories with each other and spend the entire night giggling over foolish things. A time in which we were the same. 

But that time is long gone...so far gone I even have trouble picturing it. I guess that’s what happens when you have a sister that’s almost ten years older than you. When you’re little you bend over backwards to be like them, listening to music and getting invested in shows a little too mature for your age group. But at one point, a line is crossed, and you are both in parts of your life that can’t overlap at all. 

Like how I want nothing more than to be in the part of my life that revolves around taking risks and succeeding and running a part of the world...and Sarah wants to be in the part of her life defined by motherhood. 

Don’t get me wrong. I get it--I love babies, there are days in which I see a mother cuddling a baby and think I want that. And then my phone will ring, the baby will start to fuss and I’ll mumble a genuine apology as I ignore yet another call from my editor. That will leave me grateful for the alarm on my phone that reminds me to take my birth control. Not that there’s been a concrete reason for taking my birth control since the whole Ashton situation... but it helps the cramps and I like my routine, so morning birth control alarm stays. 

And it rings at the breakfast table, earning me the slightest, hesitant side eye. Sometimes I think Sarah believes that birth control is contagious, like me taking the circular pill is impeding on her ability to conceive a child. 

“Water, y/n?” Tom doesn’t seem to hold onto that kind of thing. He’s always helpful to me, nice. I think he knows that even though Sarah and I bicker more than ever, he’s not allowed to have negative opinions about me. I know that if I had a boyfriend and he said anything about Sarah--even if it was right--I’d have his head for it. Something I’m not scared to take advantage of because...well, Tom’s rich and he has nice rich people things. 

“Yeah, Tom, I’d appreciate it. Could you also grab me one of the croissants you picked up from the french place?” 

He opens the box, eyes the last 7.50$ croissant, and he puts it on a plate--a glass one, not a paper one--and gives it to me along with a glass of water...and not regular water, cucumber water. Oh, the way the other half lives. 

“I’m surprised you’re awake for breakfast.” Sarah hums, lifting her mug of tea to her lips. I know she misses coffee, but every mommy blog says that coffee is basically uterus acid. So she drinks hormone stimulating tea now, decaffeinated and sweetened by artisanal honey. 

“I’m sorry that my life falling apart has made me a little depressed.”  

She sets her mug down. “You’re staying here, hiding from the city on one condition--a condition you agreed to.” Great, it’s not even noon yet and I’m already getting this lecture. “You can’t just wallow here. You need a life...friends...a job. All you do now is read, look at articles about you, and stand out in that garden.” 

The irony of her telling me to get a job leaves a sarcastic response wedged so thoroughly in my throat, I’m scared to take a bite of my croissant. “I could always take a page from the l/n family hand book and marry rich.” 

Tom pauses, I feel a hint of guilt for making him a casualty in a war he has nothing to do with. 

“Y/n--” 

I take a bite of the pastry, forcing it down. “Sorry, Tom--it’s not about you.” Sarah glares. “What? It’s not--Alex married super, mega, blood money rich. And mom’s latest boyfriend, he’s basically like the guy that made Apple.” 

“Speaking of mom’s rich, new boyfriend--why don’t you go stay with them?” 

“Because I’d kill their northern Europe, romance buzz--duh.” It’s easy to play off the discomfort of the fact that my mom doesn’t particularly want me right now during an argument like this. “I’ll look into getting a job. Madre Linda may be gossipy, but the one good thing about the suburbs is that they’re willing to overlook a New York, locals only scandal.” 

“Hm,” Sarah sighs, which means she’s at least somewhat appeased. “Now if I could get you to stop ignoring the calls from all those literary agents that want you to write a book.” 

I do not have the energy for this conversation. Unlike desperate-to-be-prenatal Sarah, I do drink coffee. I live off of it. But no one else here does, meaning that needing a cup of it is the perfect excuse to disappear. “I’m going to go get some coffee, maybe email some people back at the cafe and google jobs.” 

I finish the croissant, take my birth control, and disappear out the front door. Tote bag slung over my shoulder, laptop, phone, and wallet inside, I go outside the back door. It’s risky here, in the garden. I like to get lost here, the signal is terrible, which means I can pretend that everything on my phone doesn’t exist. I’ve taken to gardening because I needed a challenge, and the house that blocks the sun over this spot did make growing anything here that. I haven’t been here long enough for there to be much back here, but the seeds are starting to sprout. 

Sighing, I walk away from my labor and start moving towards the front gate. And...now the latch is stuck again. It’s always doing this, especially when I’m desperate to disappear. I swear this gate can tell when I feel trapped and it finds humor in making it worse. I pull on it, rattling the gate slightly.

“Stuck latch?” The voice comes with no warning, I almost jump. This is a neighborhood. People notice things in the suburbs. And it’s not like some creepy man is approaching me--it’s the same guy I’ve seen leave the house right next to Sarah’s. He’s a neighbor, a father, with a baby strapped to his chest. “They uh--they have a tendency to do that, something about the way the lock was manufactured.” 

“Oh,” I hope that seemed polite. I haven’t really spoken to him or his wife, but they seem like nice people. Their baby is adorable, and Sarah says that they’re courteous neighbors, always attending neighborhood functions and never being noisy, unless you count the sound of a baby crying in the night, but Sarah’s understanding of that...and maybe even a little jealous. “And here I had convinced myself that it was something personal.” 

Bad joke. Terrible, weird, illogical joke. And yet he almost smiles, the corner of his mouth turning upwards slightly. It’s here, beneath the sun that I notice that his features are worth more notation than I’d previously given him. He’s objectively attractive, with a sharp jawline and patient eyes. He’s married. Then again, just thinking someone is pleasing to look at is normal. It’s not like I’m attempting to seduce him in front of his house, with his baby attached to him in one of those harness things. Still, I drop my gaze after silence seems to enhance his appeal. 

“Even if the gate is sentient and trying to imprison you,” he steps forward, crossing the space between us, “there’s a guaranteed way to beat it.” 

He releases the hand of the baby in favor of wrapping his fingers around the top of the gate. He uses his other hand to twist the latch at an angle while tugging at the gate. It opens, the hinges just barely creaking.

 And just like that, he’s freed me. “My hero.” 

“Knight in shining armor, saving the damsel in distress from the villainous piece of metal, trapping her.” I almost laugh. 

The return of the silence uneases me because of how easy it is. “Not sure if I’d consider myself a damsel or in distress.” 

His eyes widen, the baby coos. “No I--uh--I didn’t mean it like that--”

This time I do let myself laugh. “Relax, I was just messing with you.” He exhales, easing a little too quickly. “Cruel, I know, considering the new baby must be taking so much of your energy.” I stop holding myself back, I exaggerate my expression as I finally turn my attention to the child. He’s so, so cute. I think I get why Sarah wants one so badly. “He’s so adorable, I’m sure he’s more than worth it, though.” 

“Yes, definitely worth all the lack of sleep and energy. I never really understood the whole ‘it takes a village’ thing until now. My wife and I don’t ever feel like enough.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you two are doing a wonderful job. After all, he’s healthy and smiley...and just so cute I think I’d be careful about bringing him around here or my sister might just try to snatch him up.” Another terrible joke. “Kidding--I swear, she’s just really trying for a baby and I kind of forgot not everyone knows about that--but she’d never...I mean of course she wouldn’t kidnap your baby.” Great job, y/n, the neighbors definitely won’t think you’re weird now. The longer he’s quiet, expression revealing nothing, the more nervous I feel. And then...just the slightest hint of a smug smile appears. “You’re messing with me by letting me ramble in order to get back at me, aren’t you?” 

He smiles more freely now, though there’s still reservation. “What you do to yourself without my interference is not something I can be held responsible for.” His tone is pure innocence, the ‘I’d never do anything wrong’ behind his eyes clear. “I do feel the need to thank you, though, in a town made up of momfluencers and people with multiple nannies...it’s hard to feel like enough.” 

Even though I’ve never been in his situation, I think I understand him. After all, not feeling like enough is exactly what got me in trouble in New York. “Well, I’m sure you are...though, if you’re ever in dire need for help, I’m just across the street and have absolutely nothing going on as I take refuge in my sister’s house, a fact she can’t stop reminding me of.” Once again, I’m giving too much to a stranger. “I’m actually trying to escape the gate’s prison so that I can be productive over coffee. One can only put off a temporary job search for so long.”

He’s silent for a long second before drawing his eyebrows together. “That’s a surprisingly good idea.” What? “We could use the help, if you’d like to skip out on the job search. My wife recently opened a bakery, and her mom has been helping out with child care, but I’m not sure that’s going to be working as much as it used to.” 

Oh--is he--is he saying what I think he’s saying? “Oh, no I didn’t mean you’d need to hire me. I did a lot of babysitting in high school and college, and sometimes I miss it...but I--I’d be happy to just help out, y’know. Neighbor to temporary-neighbor.”

“Oh, no, I could never leave you with this handful and not pay you something.” 

“He seems easy.” 

“Now--you should have seen him this morning when his bottle wasn’t warmed up to exactly 98.6 degrees.” 

I laugh, surprising myself by the fact that I’m actually weighing his offer. “At least let me send you some references first.” 

He hesitates, dismissal at the tip of his tongue, but I guess I look determined enough because he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, unlocks his phone, and hands it to me. “Text your number and my wife and I will look at them, but I’m sure you’re overqualified.” Something odd settles in my stomach. I’m sure you’re overqualified. Does he know who I am? “You babysat in high school and college, I’m not sure I ever dealt with a baby before him and I’m left alone with him all the time.” 

Oh--okay, it’s fine. No one here has yet brought up my past job, though I’m sure some of the gossipy women are waiting for it. That’s why I’ve been limiting my socializing here...that and the fear of becoming trapped here. I politely laugh and text my number. 

He takes his phone back, reading the short message. Hi, this is y/n, your neighbor’s sister. “Y/n.” He says my name so softly, I’m not sure he said it for my sake. He recovers quickly, returning with a polite smile, “Hello, you.” 

“Hello to you, to...” I trail off, waiting for him to provide a name. 

“Joe,” he says, “I’m Joe--and this,” his hand moves upwards so that he can let his son’s curious hand wrap around one of his fingers, “this is Henry.” 

“Joe and Henry.” I place one hand on the gate a little awkwardly. Why does this feel strange. “It’s a pleasure, meeting you both.” 

“The pleasure’s ours.” He takes a slight step back, expression loosing some of its humor. “He um...I have to get Henry back for his nap.” 

“Of course, I’d hate to keep you.” 

He takes a more confident step away, waving once before turning towards his house. I guess technically I don’t need to go to the cafe now. Though he was probably just trying to be polite, a maybe-job could appease Sarah. Still, though, I want coffee and I want to be away from here for a little bit, so I walk down the street, closing the gate behind me. 

------

Joe’s POV

Your hero. You called me that. And I liked it. The terrible part is that...I liked it. I want to be that for you, a helper not a taker. You don’t belong in Madre Linda, surrounded by suburbia, but you have to be here right now. I read the articles, I know what you’ve been through. 

And if I play this right...maybe I can help you through this, and then you’ll leave, return to the one place I know I can never go back to. New York--what happened to Beck, that’s waiting there. So in a way, that’s good...because I know that anything we have is temporary. I will help you heal as thanks for providing me solace in this hell hole, and then my life will once again only be about being a good husband and father. 

But you’re not making it easy for me--the way you lit up for Henry, the way you so easily volunteered to help me in order to help him...and you’d do it for free. I can’t help think about what a great mom you’d be, or at the very least...a kind stepmother. Not that I could ever leave Love, not with knowing what she’s capable of. What she’d do to you if she found I was thinking of you, let alone seeing you as any type of maternal figure for her son. 

The babysitting thing isn’t something I should have offered. But it’s true, we need the help. And maybe, if Love just sees you as a neighbor...as a victim that we’re helping, because those tabloids really ripped into you, y/n, she won’t think to hurt you. Not that I’d ever let that happen, but having you close could diffuse a bomb before it starts ticking. 

Because I knew from the moment I saw you, sitting on a blanket in your sister’s backyard, an Agatha Christi in your hand, I was meant to protect you. Maybe you’re even meant to be my one, but I know that I can never find out. I have to let you go...for you, for me--for us. 

okay...maybe I did it...https://yesimwriting.tumblr.com/post/665231245127614464/bloodroot-in-the-suburbs-prologue 

YALL I JUST WATCHED THE FIRST EPISODE OF SEASON 3 OF YOU AND WHEN I SAY I WANT TO WRITE A FIC FOR IT AH!! IS THAT LIKE A DUMB IDEA??

Bloodroots in the Suburbs - Chapter One: The Babysitter 

prologue 

a/n soooo happy with how this story has been received!! here’s chapter one :) 

series summary: Bloodroots are such a strange flower--white and innocent looking yet undeniably poisonous. It has no place in the safest neighborhood in CA. Then again, neither do you. The suburbs are killing you, and no one understands that...at least you think no one does. I see that in the way you roll your eyes when your sister presses the issue of when you’re going to get back on your feet. I see that restlessness when you’re in the small plot of land that you’ve actually managed to turn into some type of garden. I see you; I understand you. And if it wasn’t for the confines I bear to protect my son, I’d let you know that. But for now, I settle for knowing that the two of us are equally trapped, and I take some solace in that. I feel bad about it, I do, considering that from what I’ve gathered you spent most of your life being considered the perfect, ideal golden girl that was nothing but potential. And now you’re no longer the gifted child, the one that’s first to raise their tiny hand in class, the one that knows everything. But that’s okay--because I’ll make my selfishness up to you.

chapter summary: In a town full of au pairs and staffed houses, nanny cams are just standard practice. It’s not Joe’s fault that the new babysitter keeps getting phone calls. 

Joe’s POV.

You’re a natural caregiver. That much is clear from how much time you spend outside, watching and pruning the pitiful green square you’re desperate to turn into a garden. I’m sure you will, something about the way your eyebrows draw together when assessing the tiny, green sprouts tells me that you’re a force to be reconned with when you’re determined. And you definitely are.

You take such care with your plants, how could I ever need a reference to trust you with my son? Trust. That’s the perfect word for us, y/n. You don’t belong here, you’re not one of these fake, cookie cutter emblems--you’re real. I can trust you. Not with everything I’ve done, no, or with feelings that are still unfortunately brewing. Feelings I promise I will keep in check. I swear I’ll do everything I can to keep them on a leash.

You’re young and you’re meant for more than this place, I refuse to give you strings, especially when getting tangled in my web could cost you your life in both a metaphorical and literal sense. I know your career feels shot right now, and I really feel for you. I mean one New York agent gets caught trying to take advantage of you, and you’re the one getting punished? How is that fair? I thought this generation believed women...but that’s just what the media wants us to think. A point you brought up in the first and last interview you did after the scandal. That interviewer kept asking sexist questions and no one in the world was willing to defend you, that’s why you lost your patience. If I had been there, I could have protected you. I’m here now, though, and I promise I’ll make up for my absence.

“Joe? Can you watch Henry today? I know I said I’d take him, but Sherry called me about an event she wants me to cater. It sounded like the mommy blogging convention of the year, which means I have to pick up groceries and try recipes for about a thousand different dietary restrictions.”

I have to look away from you. I have to pretend that there was never anything intriguing about the window that looks out over the front lawn even though you’re standing there, only a road dividing us. Still, I’m not too disappointed, because Love has given me the perfect opportunity to introduce the idea of you.

This feels like playing with fire. If Love ever senses the way I feel about you, you’ll never get to leave here. You’ll never get to do anything again. But I know how to be smart, I know how to be attentive enough to keep her doubts away. And if you’re the girl across the street, the babysitter, you’ll blend into her background. It’s not like I can keep you completely away from her, I would if I could...but you’re across the street from me. I know the monster that lives in me can’t shut you out when you’re right there, so in need of my help, even when it comes to opening a gate.

So I know I can’t put you away, somewhere safe...which means I need to hide you in plain sight. Which is exactly what I’m doing. “I can’t, shift at the library.”

“The usual sitter’s out of town, so I guess I should tell Sherry I can’t do it.”

“Or...” This needs to seem like an idea I’m coming up with right now. “You know the family across the street?”

“Sarah and Tom?” She nods once, adjusting Henry on her hip. “Yeah--they’re great, but I don’t think either of them are up to babysitting. They want a baby too much to be around one that isn’t theres.”

“No, no, of course not. There’s actually someone else living with them--Sarah’s sister, I met her while taking my walk with Henry yesterday. She mentioned wanting something part time and she has babysitting experience, and a strong list of references.” That’s completely true--you texted me your resume about half an hour after we met. You added a smiley face at the end of your text. Does that mean you’re already thinking of me as more than just the random dad from across the street?

“Sarah’s sister?” Love pauses, she’s thinking about it, trying to put a face to the label. “Oh--I’ve met her. She’s been by the bakery, she’s a good tipper, seems nice.” This is working, but I can’t seem eager. “Isn’t she a party girl? Sherry said something about her needing to flee New York City.”

Indifference. Indifference. You make it so hard not to defend you. My hero. You said it politely, a partial joke, but I intend to make it a reality. “Sherry likes gossip. Party girls don’t move to the suburbs if they want to keep being party girls.”

She pauses, desperation is making her a little more open to the possibility of a stranger watching Henry. “You want to let her watch him?”

Love doesn’t sound suspicious. There’s the slightest bit of tiredness in her voice, she’s just discussing the prospect of hiring a new babysitter. This is going to be the most important reaction. I need to play you as sympathetic, someone who I could feel protective of, sure, but not in a romantic way. Right now, I’m thankful that you’re younger than us. “She probably came here because she wanted to abandon her past. I see us in her.” Love’s eyes round slightly, good, she’s sympathetic. Time to seal the way that she sees you, and y/n, I want you to know that this next part makes me feel terrible, but it needs to be said. A nail in the coffin for your safety. “She seems like a good kid.”

Ugh, saying that left a terrible taste in my mouth. You’re not a child. Considering the ways I’ve thought of you, the ways I’ve pictured you, it’d make me a fucking monster to think of you as a child. Which is why Love needs to think I see you as that.

Henry spits up onto a blanket on Love’s shoulder; I feel you, buddy. Love wipes his mouth with the fabric. “Okay--that’s a good point.”

“And if it makes you feel better, I can try to duck out of work a little early, surprise her a little. See how she is with Henry.”

She bounces Henry comfortingly. “Yeah--could you?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay, then can you see if she’s available? Because I need to be at the grocery store like now, because the deadline is super soon and--”

“I’ve got it.” I step towards her, moving until I’m close enough to take Henry into my arms. She lets the way our hands touch linger before leaning upwards. She kisses me and I kiss her back. It’s a quick peck, nothing really, but it’s enough to make me wonder what It’d be like for us to kiss. For our lips to touch. “Go. Go make keto, vegan, paleo, fast ending pastries so that all the mommy bloggers can tell everyone you’re the best.”

She grins. “Thank you.”

I adjust the way I’m holding Henry. Now, I have an excuse to talk to you. To bring you here and allow you to slip into our lives like you’ve always been here. “It’s what I do.”

Love leaves, purse in hand. I wait until her car is out of the driveway before looking for you out the window. You’re no longer in the garden. You must have gone back inside. I hate to think that you might have plans. Neither I nor Love would hold it against you, considering that this is extremely last minute...but things have just worked out too perfectly.

I cross the street, Henry in my arms as I knock on the front door. You open it--not your sister or brother-in-law. You. Did you see me from the window? Were you hoping that I’d come back to you so soon?

“Joe! Hi.” You’re happy to see me, it’s more than politeness, I can see a warmth in your eyes. Maybe you want to entertain the idea of me but you can’t bring yourself to. You don’t want to be the person that destroys a marriage. I understand, but you’ve destroyed nothing. If anything, you’ve cultivated me into something new. Something with purpose.

“Hi,” I could get lost on this front porch with you. “I know this is insanely last minute, but Love just got this catering job and I’m scheduled to work, so given yesterday’s conversation, I was wondering if you could come over and watch Henry.”

You smile, eyes moving from me to Henry and then back to me. The warmth of your expression tells me that I’ve done the right thing.

“She’s available!” A voice interrupts us.

You turn your head, throwing a slightly irritated glance behind you. “Sarah!” You turn back to me, eyes softening as a form of apology. We were interrupted, and you feel bad about that. “Sorry about her.”

Your sister appears in the doorway. I see the family resemblance--same hair color, same eyes. “Hi, I’m Sarah Burrell, I’ve seen you around the neighborhood. Tom and I keep meaning to invite you and your wife over for dinner, but he’s been so busy with work lately.”

Right, your brother-in-law’s ‘work’. He’s a Burrell, as in Burrell Pharmaceuticals. Also known as the company that supposedly created the first, secret COVID vaccine that only the ridiculously rich could afford. Buzzfeed thinks the Burrell vaccine--which was never confirmed--was administered to the Queen of England and the entire royal family. But then again....that’s Buzzfeed.

Still, the point is your brother-in-law might be the richest guy in Madre Linda. He’s also the youngest of three, meaning that he’ll never have to look at the business side of Burrell Pharmaceuticals. It also means that Tom’s side business of creating healthy, sophisticated energy drinks’ is completely unnecessary and overly pretentious. Does the world really need an energy drink with 0 trans fats that’s white truffle flavored? We both know the answer to that.

"Hi, Sarah.” Your sister reaches out her hand. I take it. “Don’t worry about it, Love and I have been busy with the bakery and...him.” I bounce Henry once, letting all the attention move off of me. Sarah smiles, but there’s a tiny bit of stiffness there. A stiffness so subtle I don’t think she’s aware of it. You weren’t kidding when you made that joke about how badly she wants a baby. “Which is why I’m so thankful to your sister, who’s offered to help us.”

Sarah nods, ready to let you go.

“Babe--is someone at the door?” Great--the man behind escargot flavored energy drinks himself. He appears in the foyer, in a Ralph Lauren collared shirt, dirty blonde hair shagging over his eyebrows. “Oh--hey, you live across the street, right?”

“Yes, I’m Joe and this is Henry.”

“Oh--what a cute little man.” He coos at Henry, who is his father’s son, because he really doesn’t seem impressed. “We’ve been meaning to have you over for dinner, but I’ve been slammed in the office.” Fighting several FDA lawsuits. “I own a company that makes high end energy drinks.” I nod, pretending that I’ve never heard about it. “Oh, speaking of, there’s a new flavor I’ve been developing and I brought home a sample, and I’ve been looking for someone to try it.”

I’d literally rather put anything else into my body. “That sounds great, but I really need to get to work.”

“It’ll take a second, I’ll go get us two glasses.” My digestive system will never forgive me if I don’t get out of this.

“Tom, he’s busy.” Thank you, y/n, you’re trying to save me. “I don’t--”

He comes back, holding out a glass of dark liquid. “Told you it’d only be a second.”

You’re giving me a look that says sorry. A look that tells me that I don’t need to do this. But I’d do anything for you, even drink the tar being handed to me. I take the glass, forcing myself to swallow the liquid in it. And--it’s so much worse than I thought. It’s bitter, and...and fishy.  

Tom is watching my reaction. I turn my grimace into a smile. “It’s um...I’ve never tasted an energy drink like this.”

“Good, right?!” I nod, fighting the way the energy drink seems to want to come back up. “It’s caviar flavored.”

The things I do for you, y/n. “Y-yeah, I got that.” He grins. “I’d love to drink the rest of this, but I need to get to work.”

“Of course,” he takes the glass back. “Well, good to finally meet you, and thanks for the feedback.” I almost say ‘anytime’ but realize that he might take that literally. “Oh, um--I have these tasting parties with other guys from the neighborhood, I’ll be sure to send you an invite.”

I’drather lose another finger. “I’ll keep an eye out, man.”

He smiles again, nodding before disappearing. Your sister squeezes your shoulder once before saying goodbye to me and disappearing into the house. As soon as they’re gone, you laugh. The sound is so warm it makes the lingering taste of acidic, liquid caviar worth it.

“I can’t believe you actually drank it.”

Look at you, making me smile after one of the weirdest, unneeded interactions I’ve experiencing all week. And that’s saying something in Madre Linda. “Hasn’t he gotten you to drink anything?”

“No,” you shake your head, attempting to dismiss a smile. “He thinks I’m allergic to like twenty different things.” You laugh again. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get you out of here in time.”

You’re still holding in a partial laugh, we’re still joking, and yet I know that there’s something genuine about the reaction. Something behind your eyes tells me that you do feel a little bad, a little guilty. You’ve been told to apologize too many times and some of that’s sunken into you.

“I have a feeling he would have caught me at some point.” We stand there again, quiet. It’d be too easy to lose time with you.

But you don’t like the quiet. Or at least, you’re not used to it. Because the quiet means you’re being seen and you’re used to people interpreting you incorrectly. I can see it in the way you stand, the correction of your posture, the way you angle your head. You want to be seen as perfect, flawless. You don’t have to be perfect around me. And it’s scary, y/n, I know--but I won’t run from you, and then you’ll understand that you’re safe with me.

“Probably.”

I nod. “We should get going.”

You take a step forward, one hand reaching for the door handle. “Yeah, we should, I’d hate to make you late for work.”

There isn’t a shift for me to be late to, but you don’t need to know that. “Right.”

We walk together, a polite distance between us, and yet, when I turn to open the door, the back of our palms brush. The contact is more surprising to you than you realize, you take a partial step back as I open the front door.

I want to show you around. I’m not particularly attached to this property, it’s a nice house, Quinn blood money made sure of that, but it doesn’t mean much to me beyond a way to assure that Henry gets into a good school. But I want you to be comfortable in my house, I want you to be comfortable around me. It’s the least I could do, considering the way you’ve helped me. Without your assuring presence, I think the suburbs would have driven me crazy. But you’ve been here, outside in your garden, letting me know that I’m not the only one drowning in the mundane.

But you’ll get suspicious about why I’m not in a bigger hurry to get to work. So this will have to be a rushed interaction. “He had a bottle a little over an hour ago, which means he doesn’t need to eat for a couple hours, but if he gets fussy there’s another bottle in the fridge. If that doesn’t work, try putting him down in the nursery, it’s the first door upstairs. He might whine at first, try reading to him, there’s a stack of books in there--Fitzgerald is his favorite.” You raise an eyebrow, amused at what you’re probably assuming is a joke. “There are diapers and changing supplies under the diaper table in the nursery, uh...” What else should I tell you? “I wish I had more time to show you, but--”

“Oh, no,” you dismiss, always polite, always ready to help, “you’ve told me enough, I’m sure Henry and I can figure out the rest.”

You extend your arms, ready to take Henry. I squeeze him once before handing him to you. Our hands touch as you adjust the way you hold him. I don’t want to move back. Carefully, I let my fingers move past the back of your palm and onto your forearm. You let me move your arm so that you can better support Henry’s head.

I know I’ve agreed to keep my feelings in check, but seeing how naturally you hold my son. You’d be good for Henry. We’d be stable, a perfect family. But even thinking of this is putting you in danger. Love would kill you just because I cared about you, if I ever tried to do anything...

I can’t. I’m taking enough risks as it is, doing what I can to satiate the monster in me. “I think he likes you, and that’s a real compliment because sometimes I’m not even sure he likes me.”

You rock slightly to keep him calm. “That has to be in your head.” You say it with no judgement, a slight hum in your voice as you tilt your head. “You seem really great with him.”

Is there something in the way you say that? Something in the way your eyes soften? Or is that just what I want to be seeing? Women are drawn to babies and the men that are responsible for them. Let it go, let it go, let it go. I’m not going to get as attached to you as I’ve gotten to other people. Everything about you is temporary.

“Please, if I could get him to stay as calm as you are, I’d get hours of my day back.” You laugh slightly, cradling Henry’s head. It’s just me, you, and Henry, and I can’t remember the last time things felt like this. Complete. Like the family I had always pictured. You feel it too, that’s why you haven’t looked away yet. You may not have a name for the feeling, but that’s okay.

Henry starts to mumble, interrupting our moment. You look down, rocking him a little more. “Not to kick you out of you out of your own house, but speaking of hours that you can’t get back, aren’t you running late for work?” 

It’s too easy to get distracted with you. I need to focus. “Right,” I step back, towards the front door. “I’ll see you soon.” 

You rub Henry’s back patiently. “We’ll be here.” 

I walk out the front door, grabbing my keys from a table at the house’s entrance. I get in my car, driving away for your sake. I leave the neighborhood, driving towards town. I end up parking in an alleyway between two stores that Love won’t need to go to for baking supplies. There’s nothing illegal or particularly sketchy about what I’m doing, but I put on a dark baseball cap and slump into the driver’s seat of my car anyways. Better safe than be recognized by a neighbor and forced into a conversation about baby food allergies or preschool introduction letters. I pull out my phone, clicking on an app that takes two seconds to load. The screen shows me the camera feeds.

I’m not the biggest fan of technology, or Sherry’s blog, or...Sherry, but I do need to thank her for her blog post on the best nanny cam on the market. You’re still in the living room with Henry. I click on the camera you’re closest to, letting it become full screen. 

You’re good with him. You’d make a good mother, something I wish I hadn’t noticed but can’t stop thinking about. You’re attentive, focused, even though your phone rings often. You don’t take the calls, of course, your full attention is on Henry.

 Who’s calling you so much? Unfinished work in New York? A concerned friend? Maybe your mother? Or is someone waiting for you? They seem obsessive, y/n. You’re uncomfortable. 

When Henry falls asleep, the phone rings again. This time you finally answer, I unmute the feed. 

“...Stop calling me. I changed my number and didn’t give you my new address for a reason.” You hang up before shoving your phone angrily into the pocket of your jeans. You let out a frustrated sigh before wiping your face with your hands. Are you crying? 

Whoever has been calling you has hurt you. Really hurt you. If I could get your phone, just look at your call history, I’d know who they are. And then--no, the person is far from you now. They don’t have your address, they don’t have to be taken care of right now. Those are the kind of impulsive thoughts that make Love unstable. 

Henry starts crying, you wipe your check with the back of your palm one last time before going back into the nursery. 

You recover like nothing happened, and you do it so well I have no choice but to wonder how long you’ve been dealing with the way the person on the phone makes you feel. 

The time passes more slowly after the interruption. I can’t stop seeing the way your phone rang, again and again. The way you let it go on and on until you finally exploded. Is no one looking out for you? You’re twenty, you were in school until your career took off. Do you have an old roommate you talk to? Is that who the problem is? You’re one of the youngest people to ever be given their own New York Times column, so being able to relate to your coworkers is off the table. Your life fell apart, and you came here...to your sister, who’s caught up trying to have a baby. What about your parents?

And who is calling you so much? You’re never on your phone in the garden. I’ve seen you on the phone at the window before, and you seemed fine. Is the stranger always calling? Why? Who are they? 

This isn’t about me or about my urges. I want to know you, to figure you out, but I said I wouldn’t do that. I’d barely started with Natalie and look what Love did. I’m only going to help you...but can I do that without knowing you?

The phone rings again. You ignore it, leaving it on the kitchen counter before reaching into the fridge to find a bottle for Henry, who’s hungry crying. Who is that? They won’t leave you alone, you need someone to make them. You...you need me. 

Stop it. Care less. I don’t think I can leave you alone. You need someone that cares about you, and I’m trying to be that without getting attached. I need to--are they calling you again? Damn it, I need to know whose calls you’re ignoring.

I lock my phone, dropping it onto the passenger seat before taking my car off park. It’s a reasonable time to come back. 

Parking the car in the driveway of the house, I’m relieved to see that Love’s not back yet. Never thought I’d say this, but thank god for Sherry and her entire army of mommy blogging monsters. 

I open the front door, and it takes me no time to find you. You’re with Henry, sitting with him on the couch. And your phone is still on the kitchen counter. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey,” I walk over to you, taking Henry back, “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.” 

“Oh, he was great.” You were great, don’t sell yourself short. “And you were right about FItzgerald, half a chapter of The Great Gatsby, and he was out cold.” So you like the book with her, huh. Henry’s rejection aside, I think today was successful. Or at least it will be when I think of a way to get that phone number. 

“Told you, he’s his father’s son.” 

“Fitzgerald’s great, it’s hard not to like him...though I do think Zelda deserves more credit.” 

“You got me there.” I adjust my grip on Henry. “Sometimes in a marriage, things end up like that.” Why did I say that? I have no idea. It’s way too early to test the waters on how much you care about the fact that I’m married...I shouldn’t be doing it at all. 

You nod once but your expression reveals nothing. “It’s a big decision.” Sometimes it’s the wrong decision. “I’m sorry, do you mind if I use your restroom?” 

“Of course--second door on your left down the hall behind you.” 

You walk away, not even glancing in the direction of your phone. The moment you’re gone, I walk to the kitchen counter. Your phone is password protected, but the missed call number is on your notification screen. I pull my phone out of my pocket, taking a picture of yours. Your phone starts buzzing again, this time it’s a call from your sister. When you don’t answer, she texts you immediately. 

Ashton called the house phone asking about you. Maybe you shouldn’t come back for awhile, he’s crazy enough to have been calling from the airport. 

Who the fuck is Ashton? 

--

Chapter Two - Kill Habits, Not People 

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Taglist: @maggiecc 

Will you continue bloodrots in the suburbs?

yes i will, i've gotten several asks about this so i'm going to answer this once--i have most of the next chapter done and for whatever reason have been struggling to finish it, but yes i have plan on continuing it

are you gonna finish Bloodroots in the suburbs ?

ahh so many asks about this series,, my one rule with fics is to never say never bc i love the liberty to come back to anything i write

i know it's been awhile, but it was a project i sort of hyper fixated on when You season 3 came out and then school got really busy, i got broken up with for the first time ever around the time i was writing this fic, and it just sort of fell on the back burner??

if i'm being honest i have another chapter that's just been sitting in my drafts that would only need a little work before being published and i've been thinking about it more and more (especially with the season 4 promo) so likely at least a chapter 3 soon and then maybe some more parts depending on how that goes?