#and i never really see that in published romance ever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satorusugurugurl · 9 months ago

Text

I Think He Knows

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he possibly tell you how he feels when you’re leaving him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,505

Warning: Language, suggestiveness, mentions of sex, mentions of death, depression, insomina

A/N: BestFriend!Suguru series is now our Saturday special!! Let’s goooooo!!! 😈💚

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Tweleve

Fifteen years ago, you and your family moved to Tokyo from the countryside due to your father’s job. You were so nervous, walking into your kindergarten class and holding your bag as your homeroom teacher introduced you to your new classmates. Everyone stared at you as you were ushered towards a table with two boys. One stuck his tongue out at you while the other colored with crayons.

“Oooh.” You said in awe, looking at the picture the dark-haired boy was coloring. “That’s pretty! Did you draw that?”

The crayon stopped moving as the dark-haired boy looked up at you for the first time. His dark eyes widened as he looked you over, a rosy flush dusting his cheeks. “I uhm,” his eyes darted back towards the paper, “yeah, I drew it.” You leaned in, your eyes sparkling in awe, as your classmate sucked in a deep breath as you got closer.

“So pretty!”

Swallowing hard, the boy continued coloring. “I-If you want it, you can have it when I’m done.” His voice is so timid that you almost don’t hear it.

“Eh?! Really!?” You smile, revealing a missing tooth. “Thank you—uhm, what’s your name?”

“G-Geto.”

“Thank you, Geto!”

“You’re welcome.”

That day marked the beginning of your friendship with Geto Suguru! You two have been inseparable ever since that day. You were having play dates and attending the same middle school, high school, and college! You even lived in the same apartment complex, just two floors separating you.

Suguru never once gave up on his passion for drawing, trading his crayons and construction paper for oil paint and canvas. You didn’t have an artistic bone in your body. You did, however, have a way with words. You were constantly losing yourself in characters you'd create and worlds you built, and you never thought of sharing them with the world until Suguru pushed you to do so.

You took his advice and submitted your novel to several writing competitions, not expecting anything to come from it. Boy, were you shocked when you won first place and were allowed to publish your novel! The publishing company loved the story, your characters, and the premise of it, so much so that they signed you on for a whole saga.

That was great! Your characters would finally be given the chance to shine. Their stories would be told! There was just one issue that you kept running into while working on the sequel. Your high-end fantasy novel was a romance between the princess of your series and her knight. You ended the first book with a very intimate kiss and confession. The whole purpose was to have readers wanting more, and they wanted more.

Your reader wanted more Ilaus and Oaklynn, more kisses, sweet whispers of nothing, and steamy smut. The readers wanted to see the lovely, innocent princess and her hot knight getting freaky. Which you were all down for! You wanted them to get to that point as much as your readers! You wanted Oaklynn to be face down getting plowed by Ilaus more than anyone else! You had written their story and made them suffer; they deserved to be happy with each other.

So why was writing sex scenes your kryptonite?!

You anxiously watched Nanami Kento, your beta reader and editor, scroll through your phone and read the latest pages you had written. His face was stoic, unreadable as his eyes glimpsed over the screen. Your leg bounced as he put your phone down, his eyes focusing on his mug before he sighed.

“Oh my god, you hate it.” Anxiety settled in your gut. “It’s terrible! I knew it sucked.”

Nanami winced, his eyes not meeting yours, and he brought his mug to his mouth and took a sip. “Why did you call his penis ‘his raging meat stick’? Like it was a slab of salami?” Your friend watched you slam your head gently against the table. “And for her, you called it her fairy cave?” This time, your friend didn't wince; no, the bastard chuckled.

“This isn't funny, Nanami!”

“I know,” he took another sip, “look, it's not bad; I just think if you're going to write a sex scene, you need to refer to the genitals as genitals and not lunch meat and damp mystical caves.”

“L-Like use the word penis?”

“Or cock, dick, not meat stick.”

“Shh!!” you reached over the table, covering his mouth with your hands. “We're out in public!!”

Nanami pulled back away from your hands. “Oh please, we know Gojo and Sukuna. They are more foul than that.” He had a point; the two could make grandmothers cry with their colorful vocabulary.

The first half of your novel was easy to write—lots of action, passionate kisses, and dialogue. The middle had hit you with a brick of writer's block. This was your first time writing anything remotely spicy other than making out with tongue. The scene you were stuck on right now wasn’t even a full-on sex scene! That made it so much worse! They were pleasing each other in a tent with just their hands! It's a simple mutual masturbation scene.

But using a meat stick and a fairy cave would not cut it. And the next couple of chapters were due to your agent in a week. If Nanami pretty much flat-out told you these scenes sucked, there was no way in hell you would be turning this in to your agent.

“Fuck, Nanami, what am I going to do?”

“Scrape it and rewrite it.” Feeling your gaze on his, Nanami breathed out a breathy huff. “Look, it's not terrible, trust me; I know you're capable of more.” Your trusted friend chuckled as you puffed out your cheeks.

“Oh yeah, scrape it; maybe I'll use a hot dog instead of a meat stick this time.” What were you going to do?! There was a week to turn the poorly excused terrible smut you'd written into something that would please Nanami, your agent, and the publisher.

Nanami patted your shoulder as he collected his stuff. “You know, sometimes our own experiences can help.” Great, now you were frustrated and a blushing mess!

“I-I can't do that!”

“Well, then read some erotic novels for inspiration if you have any questions if you don't want to use your personal sexual experiences.”

“That’s not what I me—”

“Look, let's meet on Tuesday for lunch, and you can show me what you have then. I gotta run to class; I’ll see you then.”

With a heavy heart, you watched your friend rush out of the café and return to Campus. Nanami was full of good ideas. Using one's own experiences was a good muse. It was something you would do if you had any experience. The number one reason you had so many issues writing smut seems like this was because you were a complete and total virgin.

That was the sole reason why writing sex scenes was your kryptonite. Because you had zero experience, writing about something you had no experience in was hard. So Nanami’s advice, while appreciated, was utterly useless. You had no experience, and there was no way you were hooking up with some random person to inspire you.

Oh well, you had a lovely long week to try and fix the monstrosity you had created. It wasn't like your agent would call you out of the blue! Yeah, you had a week! A week! It was all good!

A bag slammed on the table as you packed your laptop and notepad. With a squeak and a jump, you turned to see your agent staring down at you—a look of dismay and stress plastered over her face.

“U-Utahime?” Her expression remained the same as she adjusted her baseball hat. “H-Hi, what's up?”

“Meat stick?”

“Fuuuck.” you cried out, throwing your head back.

“I come in to give you good news, and I hear that Nanami is saying you're struggling with the sex scenes?” She sips her coffee anxiously, her foot tapping against the tile floor. “You told me it was a romance? And you can't write sex scenes?!”

You hushed her, standing up and putting your index finger against your lips. “Shut up! Please! I'm working on it; I'm just struggling!” Utahime laughs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I'll fix it! I promise you’ll have a super spicy mutual touching session by next week!” she gives you a skeptical look, one you're pretty sure was on your face as well. “B-But what good news do you have?” Your agent and friend relaxes as she grins.

“You know that cottage that you saw online? The one in Europe that inspired your book?”

“The one that I can't find? Yeah, I know it.”

When you graduated high school, you and Suguru had stopped at a bookstore while shopping for supplies. You were grazing through pictures of European castles when you saw this darling little cottage. It looked similar to the cottage in Sleeping Beauty. It was made of stone in the woods beside a river where a water mill ran.

The cottage was gorgeous; it got your creative juices flowing. You imagined characters living there, and it was honestly the inspiration for your book. You desperately searched for it. Wanting to learn more about the cottage that had inspired your fantasy world, you couldn't find a lick of evidence. You had been under the assumption that it was either destroyed or didn't even exist. So you had given up on finding it two years ago.

“Well, your lovely agent made a few calls and sent out some photos, and she found it.”

“Shut up bitch.” Utahime just smirked, pulling out her phone. “Oh my god, oh god! Are you serious?!” Her phone slid across the table, the screen illuminated by the cottage that inspired your novel. “Ahh! Oh my god!”

“I also got in touch with the owners of the cottage. And when I told them a best-selling novelist was in love with their cottage, which they just so happen to rent out, they offered for you to stay there.”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!”

“Maybe staying here will get your creativity flowing! Help you with the next few novels.”

Your body was vibrating in excitement. “Oh my god, yes! A week here would be great!” A low ‘uhm’ from across from you drew your attention from the phone to your agent. “Or a weekend?” she shook her head.

“They offered it to you for longer than that.”

“Seriously? How long are we talking?”

Utahime’s smile was wide and warm. “You’re gonna need a few bags.”

The second you left the coffee shop with a coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other, you bolted down the street. Your meeting with Utahime went so well! You couldn’t wait to tell Suguru all about it. By the time you reached the apartment complex and his door on the third floor, you were panting.

Glancing at the handle, you luckily didn’t find a tie on it, meaning he didn’t bring home some chick, so it was safe for you to come in if you wanted. He did that for you after you walked in on him eating some bimbo out on the kitchen counter. Knowing it was safe, you unlocked the door with your spare key and headed inside.

The smell of paint was strong, meaning Suguru was in the zone and probably had been for hours. Meaning he hadn’t eaten. He was so lucky to have you as his best friend in the whole world, or the man would have starved.

“Suguru~!” Stepping through the apartment, you followed the sound of alternative music toward the spare room, which he’d turned into his makeshift studio. Stepping inside, you didn't find him, but his easel had a new canvas.

Quickly rushing forward, you stared at it, and your heart sank. Suguru had sketched out an aquarium, the base colors down, and a girl stood in front of the tank. The colors hadn’t been placed on her, but you knew who she was from the ruffled sun dress she wore to the braid that cascaded down her back.

“Riko.” Her name tore at your heart as you reached out to touch the sketch of the girl who had been taken far too soon.

Before you could touch the canvas, a creaking floorboard had you pulling away, rushing far for the easel. Your best friend walked in, a fresh mug of water in his hand, while he scrolled through his phone in the other.

God, how he had changed in the fifteen years you’d been together. His hair was longer, pulled in a bun; his bangs hung in his face. Suguru’s left arm was inked with a dragon; it swirled around the head of it tattooed on his shoulder. His lip was pierced along with the cartridge of his ears, and he was wearing his black gauges. That boy you met in class was now a man who was shirtless and covered in paint.

Suguru finally looked up; seeing you standing there startled him, causing him to spill water on the floor. “Fuckin’ hell!” He yelled, putting the mug down to grab the edge of his tables covered with tubes of paint. “You little fuckin’ shit.” His words held no heat as you placed his food and coffee down.

“Oh please, you’d starve without me. I tried calling you when I came in.”

“I was in the kitchen.”

“No, you weren’t.” You sat on the table inches from where Suguru stood. “I walked through there; you sneaking a girl down the fire escape? Not wanting me to catch you doing something indecent again?”

There was always a playful, teasing tone between the two of you. Especially now that you were older and he was a man whore. His dark eyes narrowed as he grinned, slotting between your legs as he sipped coffee.

His eyes trailed over you. “Why would you be jealous if I was?” You shook your head as he pushed your hair back. “Damn, I was just talking to Satoru.” Suguru rolled his eyes as you whistled. “You would like.” He ruffled the top of your head.

“Nah~ I’ve seen you go down on a girl.” He opened his mouth again. “And no, I’m not jealous; I just don’t wanna see you going at it.”

“Yeah, he said we’re all going out tonight; something about that sushi train place.” He pulled out the sandwich you brought him, taking a bite. ��Said we had to celebrate.”

“Oh, we do.” Suguru swallowed the mouthful of food. “Because I got some great news today.”

“Really? Did Nanami like your new pages?” He stepped away, grabbing the mug of clean water as he stepped back in front of the canvas.

“Well, no, but that’s a whole other situation.” The excitement buzzing in your chest could no longer be held in. “Utahime found the cottage!”

Suguru perked up, knowing exactly what you were talking about. “Shut the fuck up, she did, where?!” He’d helped you search for your inspiration for hours; he knew how badly you wanted to go there.

“It’s in a wooded area in England. Super pretty! The owners have read my book and offered to let me stay there!”

“Well, that’s gre—”

“For the next two years!!”

Glass shattered, leaving both you and Suguru in stunned silence. Your best friend was pale, the color leaving his cheeks. His eyes were distant as you looked down, seeing the water spreading over the floorboard, sliding under Suguru’s bare feet.

You were the first to move, not to pick up the glass but to grab Suguru’s face gently. He was as still as a rock; he only got like that when he had flashbacks to that night. Seeing that he was painting Riko must have meant he was stuck in that moment from your second year of high school.

He shut his eyes tight, leaning into your touch, cluing you in. It wasn’t a flashback. He took a deep breath before lifting you, putting you off to the side, away from the glass. Something wasn’t right with Suguru; you knew it from his lingering touch and the lack of light in his eyes.

“What time did you get up?” You asked as you bent down, helping him pick up shards of glass.

“Are you going to leave?”

“I asked you a question first. What time did you get up?”

“Three this morning. Are you leaving?”

Peering up, you found his eyes focused solely on you. “I’m uhm—I’m waiting for Utahime to contact the owners.” He gritted his teeth, his eyes returning to the glass on the floor. “It’s not set in stone yet, Suguru.” You gently nudged his hand with yours; those words had him relaxing a bit, like relief was washing over him. “Why were you up at three?” He stood up, tossing the broken glass in the trash.

“Nightmares.”

“About Riko?”

Riko Amanai was a person Suguru didn’t like talking about. He went to therapy for what happened, but her death left a mark on him that probably would never heal. He had his good months and his bad months. Between the canvas and the nightmares, you knew he was going to have a hard time this month.

You didn’t push him; you hated to pry that part of his life. That didn’t mean you weren’t there for him, though. If he wanted to talk to you, your door was always open. There had been many nights when he would show up and ask to stay in bed with you. Those were the nights when nightmares were too much to handle when he had too much on his mind. Those were the nights you both stayed up, talking about life, your novel, or his work. They were also the nights you both fell asleep in each other‘s arms and got some of the best sleep of your lives.

“Suguru—?”

“I’m going to grab the broom. Just stay here.” Suguru grabs a white sheet and covers his newest canvas up before heading out of his room towards the kitchen.

Great, you just had to go prying into his trauma. What the hell is wrong with you? He would’ve talked about it with you if he wanted to talk about it. It was wrong to dig into what was happening in his mind. You worried so much about him, and sometimes you forgot you had no right to question him.

Despite your prying and prodding questions, Suguru was still warm to you. He wrapped an arm around you and plopped down on the couch with you while he finished eating breakfast and drinking coffee. He showed you some of the paints he wanted to get the next time he dragged you to the art store. Suguru acted like everything was normal when you both knew it wasn’t.

He was masking; he often did when he didn’t want to talk about what was going on in his mind. Or when he didn’t want to worry you. You could easily see through his façade, but you weren’t about to ruin the rest of his day with your questions. You lay there on the couch with him, listening to him talk about his paints and the commissions that he had received.

The mundane conversations lasted until four o’clock. The two of you freshened up before heading downtown to meet your other friends for your not-so-celebratory dinner. Satoru had invited almost everyone you knew. Nanami, Shoko, Sukuna, Haibara, and Yuki cheered when you two entered.

You were pulled towards the bar by Shoko and Yuki, who squealed over how lucky you were to have found your cottage. Suguru snatched a beer from the bucket on the table, chugging it as he sat beside Satoru. The white-haired man hissed out a sigh, his arm wrapping over Suguru’s shoulder as the two watched you closely.

“I can’t believe they offered her to stay there for two years.” Satoru purred out. “Like fuck, it’ll be weird not having her here.”

“Please shut the fuck up.”

Satoru pulled his dark sunglasses off, glaring at his best friend. “Who pissed in your cereal?” He paused, pursing his lips together. “Oh right, the girl you love is leaving you. I have an idea; tell her how you feel!” A handful of gyoza is shoved into Satoru’s mouth.

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” Nanami glanced at the two before him, gulping down his beer. “If I tell her, it’ll be like I’m holding her back. I can’t do that.” As he steals another glance at you, confusion, doubt, and anxiety settle in Suguru’s stomach. “If she wants to go, she can go.”

Thankfully, after his little rant, the conversation drifted from you and focused on school. The whole night, no one brought up the cottage, nor you leaving yet. As you assure them, nothing is set in stone yet, but finding out where your inspiration was was enough to drink to.

The happiness that seemed to radiate off you made Suguru feel bittersweet over the whole situation. He was happy for you. He knew how much finding that cottage. He spent his free time looking into it for you. But he could never find anything. He desperately didn’t want to go either. You were his best friend. You had been for fifteen years, and he was utterly in love with you, but he didn’t want to cross that line.

Now that there was a possibility that you would be leaving, he regretted all the chances he had to cross that line, and he never took it. That’s why he slept with so many girls who shared attributes similar to yours. Some of them had your eyes, others had your hair color, and there were just some of them that looked similar to you. It was a way to cope with being unable to tell you how he felt. But at least he didn’t ruin your friendship.

Between the lack of sleep and the new fear of losing you, Suguru needed something more potent than beer. He shimmed over to the bar, ruffling your hair as he passed you. As he leaned over the bar, waiting for his drink, Nanami squeezed in next to him.

“I think I know why she might be leaving.”

“Huh?” Suguru’s pierced brow lifted in confusion. “Why would there be a reason for her to leave? She’s always wanted to go to that cottage.”

“She offered to stay there to help with her writing. I may have called Utahime and given her a heads up about the pages I read today.” Nanami sipped his drink. “We both agreed that change of scenery might help with her writing.”

“The fuck do you mean?” A twinge of anger flashed over Suguru’s face. “Her writing is the best. There’s nothing for her to work on. She got published, for God's sake.”

Nanami chuckled nervously. “There’s no doubt that she’s a talented writer. While her dialogue and kissing scenes and her world-building are superior to other authors, I’ve read for. Her romance scenes are atrocious.” When Nanami saw the look of bewilderment on Suguru’s face, he nodded. “By romance, I mean sex scenes.”

“Well, she’s never had a boyfriend; I don’t think she’s even kissed someone.” Nanami makes a humming sound of understanding as a revelation overcomes Suguru. “Do you think if her sex scenes get better, she might now want to leave for as long as she said?”

“Maybe. But it’ll take a miracle for her sex scenes to improve.”

A miracle that Suguru was willing to provide. If he could help you, maybe, just maybe, you might consider staying if you’re given a chance to leave. And if he’s lucky, perhaps he would finally find the strength to tell you how he felt. Downing his drink, he rushed back to the table, grabbing your hand.

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

Your eyes glitter, making Suguru’s heart thunder. “Sure!” He drags you through the crowded restaurant, pulling you outside towards the alley. “What’s up?” God, you look so pretty with flushed cheeks.

“Nanami told me about the sex scenes”

“That traitor!” You pout, tilting your head back with a grumble. “Fine, go ahead and make fun of my usage of deli meat for describing genitalia.” The teasing never comes. Instead, Suguru's musky, earthy smell crowds you as he slams his hands on either side of your head. “S-Sugu?”

“I have a proposition.” His voice purrs out, making your heart race spike. “You’re struggling with the sex scenes. That’s why you’re thinking of leaving, right?”

“Y-yeah, and?”

“What if I help you? If your sex scenes get better, do you think you might not need to leave for two years?”

Heat begins to fill the tiny space between your bodies. You feel your exhaled air mingling with the others. Fuck was it the alcohol?

“I-I mean, maybe I wouldn’t need to leave for so long. Maybe just a week.” There’s a gleam in your best friend's eyes. “But how are you going to help me?” His mouth inches closer, and you can feel the heat as he leaves an inch away from your lips.

“I can teach you.”

(TBC)

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

449 notes · View notes

sloanesallow · 2 months ago

Text

Sebastian Sallow Headcanons

So I've seen some of my moots do one of these and decided it was my turn, even if nobody asked. 🤣

These are all ideas that are present in stories I’ve already published, or ones that are forthcoming in Void. A lot of this is word-vomit LOL. I’ve credited anyone that I’ve been inspired by, but otherwise, similar head-canons to other creators are coincidental.

Disclaimer: My opinions are mine. They might also be yours! They might also be somebody else’s. Or not. That’s the fun thing about fandom. We can all have our own thoughts! Disagree? Cool! Just don’t be mean about it. :)

Sebastian is left-handed.

Actually, ambidextrous. So while it’s probably an error in-game, if you take Sebastian with you to Hogsmeade, in the Three-Broomsticks he stands up to defend you with his wand in his left hand. I’ve just decided to run with it and think his left is more dominant than his right, but he can use both.

Sebastian is on the spectrum.

Because I am on the spectrum, it’s hard not to write this nerdy little boy as somebody who obsesses over data and information. Sebastian is a numbers guy. Counts stuff in his head; keeps lists. Obsessive about his note-taking and will throw away a page if he thinks his penmanship isn’t perfect enough. I put in a previous post that he’d be the type to stare at a jar of jelly beans and know how many are inside with one glance.

Sebastian is very intelligent but oh so stupid (affectionately)

For some reason, the only comparison I can think of right now is a weird combination of Abed and Troy from Community. You know the friend that seems to always be in weird, preventable situations and says the most out-of-pocket things but will turn around and quote Shakespeare. He probably is the smartest person in the room but isn’t humble about it. Sebastian is book-smart and thinks he’s street-smart (insert John Mullaney here) but his life experience is actually quite limited. Yes, his parents died (and he may have witnessed it to some degree), but I do think he might have been sheltered in some capacity. Which brings me to my next point:

Sebastian’s feelings are intense, and sometimes misguided

Sebastian would benefit from therapy, no joke. He likely wasn’t given the space to process his parent’s death, so it’s no wonder he SPIRALS when Anne gets sick. His desperation comes from a place of fear, but his inability to cope leads to some very unfortunate circumstances. And yes, Sebastian can be deceptive and manipulative, but I don’t think he acts this way on purpose, but because he doesn’t know any better. He acts first, thinks later, and this can lead to tension in his friendships (MC/Ominis). It’s also why so many authors write him as somewhat possessive when pairing him romantically with MC (or anyone, really). I tend to write him as being disinterested in romance (too busy) until it smacks him in the face and he chases that high obsessively. However, I think it takes a long time for Sebastian to recognize what real, healthy love is.

Sebastian would never be an Auror

I’ll die on this hill. Sebastian would probably not ever want to work for the Ministry, and distrusts authority, even as he ages and matures. Regardless if you think he acted in self-defense or not, he still killed his uncle with an unforgivable. That’s scary. And dangerous. A kid knowing and practicing Dark Magic? Even if he never does it again, he wouldn’t risk his life by flaunting himself in front of the Ministry. Also, Solomon was an Auror. Now, I’ll admit I have him working with the Ministry in some capacity in my fics (curse breaker), but for the most part, he is a free agent and does what he wants (in true Sebastian fashion).

Pocket cookies

Always has some kind of snack in his pockets for emergencies. I’ve had this come up several times now in my fics (see below) and it’s a running joke. I just love the idea of him pulling out a cookie to offer somebody in their time of need.

Other little things:

Triple Scorpio??? I did this on accident when making a birthday (November 8 1873) for him and CoStar said based on my made-up birth chart he was Scorpio Sun/Moon/Ascending which according to my astrology babes, is uhhhhh insane.

Allergic to lavender???? Don’t ask.

He's just a silly, goofy guy, okay?

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow headcanons

149 notes · View notes

leehama · 23 days ago

Note

Hi, I love reading And Another Lovely Day a lot and loved seeing the behind the scenes and extras in the recent update! I wanted to ask what inspired you to write it? There’s not a lot of stories with a-spec characters as leads so I was wondering what prompted you to write a story like this.

Hi there! tbh, I've avoided answering this question because AALD was one of those stories that changed so much from its initial idea and has roots in multiple other stories of mine so it's hard to explain/trace! This is going to be long, but I think it went something like:

I was considering making the main character of another story of mine aroace, but even though it made her more interesting, suddenly removing the romance plotline threw off the the motivations/characterizations/storylines of other characters, so I decided against it--but now I had this aspec character concept floating around in the back of my mind

For another story of mine I wanted to make the MCs editors at a romance comic publisher, but it was getting to be a little too much about them being editors/working on comics than their romance/silly hijinks, so I paused developing it--but now I liked that setting

And eventually the two concepts converged: I liked the juxtaposition of aspec leads who had jobs producing love stories because it felt very romcom (there are lots of romcoms about romance writers whose own love lives are lacking, right?). And when the term "non rom-com" popped into my head, I latched onto it!

Initially, Nora and Elliot were romance comic publisher employees who bonded over a common interest in food--but it felt like it overlapped a bit too much with Gourmet Hound (and in terms of exploring sexuality and food, series like She Loves to Cook, And She Loves to Eat and What Did You Eat Yesterday? do it better than I ever could)

(Nora was the editor for Grier's comic series, while Elliot was in the advertising department alongside Isaac--they'd be forced to work together when Elliot was assigned to an ad campaign for Grier's comic) (Their meet-cute was the two of them agreeing to share a Valentine's couple's special at a cafe across the street from their office)

So instead of comic publisher employees who connect over their love of food, they became teachers who connect over their love of comics! I went through a lot of iterations of possible jobs and interests, but this combination felt the most approachable to me (also I had a ton of school-related assets laying around from the magical-girl-becomes-high-school-teacher project that never came to be lol)

So I didn't really set off to write a story about aromanticism or asexuality, nor to write a story with aspec leads. But also, in general, I can't really write from a place of "I want to provide xyz representation" or "I want to make this story relatable for xyz type of person"--because I'm not a skilled enough writer to do that without readers being able to immediately pick up on it lmao (and I feel like a lot of readers balk against stories that are too transparently or clumsily attempting to teach them lessons/model good behavior/be relatable!)

#ask #SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG #and another lovely day

73 notes · View notes

youcouldmakealife · 1 month ago

Text

2024 Writing Wrap

Well, my goal for 2024 was 225,000 words, and I did exceed that, so I believe that is what we call a success. Never mind that my ~secret goal was 250k and that the 225k goal was just in case anything came up. And it did. So that is technically still a success! So I’m trying not to be grumbly about it.

What I’m not grumbly about at all is how, exactly, that final word count broke down by project (actual numbers below).

I don’t think the COTT and SAIT word counts could be closer than if I’d been intentionally trying to balance them. Which, I cannot stress enough, I was not. I was actually expecting a 2:1 COTT v SAIT ratio, mostly because, well, SAIT hasn’t been easy to write at times, and I was fully prepared for that to continue. But then something happened. I won’t investigate it too closely — gift horses, etc — but the floodgates finally broke, and a character that was so reluctant to speak honestly about himself and his life that it left him (and me) mute was suddenly willing to talk.

(We all know what happened. Robbie Lombardi happened.)

So, coming into this year I set myself a 13 part (approx 27.5k) goal for SAIT, and a 60k goal for COTT. They both ended up around 75k. Add in the SOTWs&Ms, which ended up around 65k combined (goal was 60k), and on all counts, I beat my individual project goals, and absolutely smashed the one for SAIT.

Considering this year I also got the TOTI paperback done and published the final installment of Between the Teeth, I think it was a pretty productive year, particularly considering I was finally diagnosed with Audhd in January, and have spent a lot of time and energy processing that, reframing a lot of things, and adjusting my work style to better accommodate my neurotype.

It's all been a big learning process, though one slightly derailed by the arrival of COVID and the…refusal to leave of COVID…and a fraught one at times, but it’s really been a relief to look at things like ‘this doesn’t work for me because my brain isn’t wired that way’ versus ‘this doesn’t work for me because I’m lazy/not trying hard enough/not living up to my ‘potential’, ad nauseum. It’s been…good. Tough, and emotional, and sometimes exhausting, but good. And I think that might be the other reason that Georgie started to speak again: how the fuck was I supposed to write him starting to move forward when I was still masking? How could I?

Meanwhile my other project was literally ‘okay, what if I worked through some of this by making my ADHD and my autism kiss? What if I did that?’ And COTT has been an absolute delight for me as a somewhat chaotic way for me to examine how these totally different beings co-exist. Throw in me shoving a ton of common romance tropes, gleefully undermining them (sometimes even intentionally! Though COTT can indeed be marked down as yet another failure in my quest to write some proper hate sex), a whole lot of ‘look, he actually gets me’ that is probably a liiiittle too close to home (and, I think, the home of most ND people), and everybody Doing Their Best (even when it fails, even when it doesn’t look like it, even when they aren’t rewarded for that), it is probably the closest thing I’ve ever written to pure Id fic, and I’m including the fucking Scouts here.

So thank you for all being very patient with me working through my ~stuff via narrative, and I’m really glad some of you (Audhd, autistic, ADHD, and otherwise) see yourselves reflected in Holden and/or James as well. Every single thing that annoys about them is probably something I do. (Uh. Off the ice. I don’t throw dirty hits. And I sadly don’t have a hockey room either.) I love them both a lot and I genuinely think my loving them, with all their faults (that are often my faults), has made my relationship with myself better, because I too am Always Doing My Best, even when it doesn’t look like it. And sometimes I forget that.

Okay, enough of the navel gazing, time for numbers!

These may seem slightly different than the word counts on, say, AO3, but at the end of each writing day I log my process. It’s always a little inflated -- some of it ends up on the cutting room floor, some of it applies to works currently still in progress, etc.

But, end of the year, here’s the breakdown*:

*rounded up/down to the nearest thousand, but that was the extent of the rounding, they're just naturally handsome numbers

Cards on the Table: 75k

Still Always in Tandem: 75k

SOTW/Ms and Extras: 82k

(Comprised of: SOTWs: 34k, SOTMs: 33k, Extras 15k)

For a combined total of 232k, squeaking in a mere 7k above my 225k goal.

But wait! There’s the misc (includes some Gritty work, last minute BTT additions, the bracket challenge, and other things that don’t fit the categories above), which adds an additional 13k.

So, in fact, it all adds up to 245k. Which is pretty damn close to 250k in my humble opinion, especially considering I spent a full quarter of 2024 sick. So I think we can call this year a success, at least on the writing front.

#writing stuff

66 notes · View notes

choccy-zefirka · 1 month ago

Text

Emergency Follow-Up Book Club Meeting

[Won't really make sense if you don't read Part 1 first, but Tumblr will hide this post if I add a link, so search "book club" on my blog]

Attending: Bellara, Harding, Lucanis, Neve, Davrin, Taash, Emmrich, Rook

Book: Adventures of Dolor the Daring, Volume 49, by I. L. Literatus Evaraas Mercar (Rook)

Notes taken by: Neve (Bellara was too overexcited to hold a quill)

Notes:

Important preface: This will likely be the serial’s last volume ever to be published. According to the paper sellers and my own sources, there is currently a lot of public outrage around the scene where Dolor gets hit by an enemy mage’s ice spike and, aside from wounding them for dramatic suspense, it also shatters a glamor amulet around their neck, revealing that they were not a human, but a Qunari all along. Reactions from (human) readers have included, to my knowledge: verbose letters to the publisher decrying the serial’s “forced diversity” in character backgrounds, as apparently it was already bad enough that the supporting cast is “teeming” with elves and dwarves; threats to the author as an “agent of the Qun” trying to “falsely paint their kind in a positive light”; laments from anguished mothers that their children will now think that the “oxmen” are all friendly heroes (I would point out that children have no business reading crime serials in the first place, but we know there’s no stopping a particularly determined twelve-year-old with a yearning to see a throat slit); and even high-brow critical essays insisting that Dolor has so far proven themselves to be far too quick-witted and intelligent to be a Qunari.

Rook opened the meeting by going over all of the above; which, according to them, was precisely what they feared when they picked up writing as a hobby. “It didn’t take you too long to figure out that Dolor’s adventures are based on my own,” they said, looking at me specifically (they did not seem angry, at least; though I suspect that Rook has trained their facial muscles not to betray them when they are angry, to put humans at ease). “But do I look like someone these adventures might happen to? In most people’s eyes, at least?”

Bellara and Harding disrupted the meeting to give Rook a hug.

Taash further disrupted the meeting with an offer to beat up every qalaba that made them feel like this. Lucanis supported them and volunteered his services to do it “more elegantly but also more permanently”. The offer was appreciated, but graciously declined.

Davrin asked if Rook regretted revealing Dolor’s true identity. Rook said they did not, and added that it was not a revelation, but a last-minute twist, which never would have happened if it were not for us. “I have been avoiding your book clubs because I was so embarrassed about my little secret… But it turns out I never had to hide it. Not from you.”

BEL, I CAN SEE YOU LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER. I AM NOT GETTING SENTIMENTAL. I AM JUST KEEPING AN ACCURATE RECORD!

Harding said that she found Dolor’s sendoff to be “quite lovely”, and in her mind, they are still out there, fighting evil mages on the streets of Tevinter as their true self, with their friends by their side.

Bellara stopped trying to contain herself and erupted into enthusiastic gushing about the final scene, where the heroes get a moment to breathe as the villain is dragged away by a very Rana-like templar, and the mage Flosculus gently tends to Dolor’s wounds. In the previous volume, Dolor assumed that their feelings for Flosculus were not reciprocated, and decided to bottle them up. This volume still ends before the two can have an open conversation — but the delicate touches of the healer’s glow-infused hands all across Dolor’s bandaged torso, and the soft whispers asking them to tell him where it hurts “had more spice than the one romance we read that made Lucanis walk out of the room in a straight line”.

I am inclined to agree.

Emmrich laughed at no, that would be too mean-spirited; let’s say, was very amused by Bellara’s stumbling over the word “spice” and told her, “You can say eroticism, dear. That was the intent, after all.”

Rook has quite a few vitiligo spots on their otherwise slate-grey face, and that makes it a little more obvious when blood rushes to their cheeks. Which it certainly did in that moment — as they admitted the healing scene was Emmrich’s idea, and they merely “did their best” to commit it to paper.

To which Emmrich said, “And you described everything marvelously, my darling. I hope you know that all of us in this room are deeply grateful to you for sharing your work with us”.

I am also inclined to agree with that last part. But also, let it go on record that Emmrich held Rook’s hand while talking. If he ever blinks those big eyes at me again and claims that he had “no idea” everyone in the Lighthouse knew about him and Rook, I will just point to the evidence.

The meeting concluded with everyone reassuring Rook that, despite what happened to the Dolor serial, they should never stop writing. Harding even said, tearing up a little, that Varric would be proud. That made Rook blush again; are they finally beginning to process what happened? I cannot be certain.

Once we settled down, dice were rolled to choose the next book. It is Emmrich’s turn now.

Taash begged him, with a groan, not to choose any of the “thousand-page academic shit”. He protested that he has amassed “quite a collection of enjoyable romance stories” over the years — and took Rook’s hand in his again.

I see you, old man.

#dragon age #da:tv #emmrook #neve gallus #bellara lutare #rook mercar #davrin #taash #emmrich volkarin #lucanis dellamorte #emmrich x rook #age gap ship #original things #evaraas mercar

67 notes · View notes

rowanisawriter · 2 months ago

Text

2024 —my year in writing

last year, i wrote more than i ever have like literally in my whole life. this year i beat my record by about 200k words. i am writing A LOT and it’s all because of you.

yes, you, reading this now. anyone who kudos’d or commented or liked or reblogged anything i wrote, and followed me here and on ao3, and ranted in my dms and added me to servers. you, reading the weird things i write, the things i can only write and only i can write, seeing it and liking it and coming back again and again for more. thank you :)

so here’s my 2024 summary:

words written: 358,963

fics published: 74

my favorite fics:

real world (stardew valley) - a story about parenthood and roads not taken. genuinely the most important story to me, a diary entry as much as fanfic

pilgrimage (bg3) - a story about two people without a past as they work toward an even more uncertain future. i also have no past because of a strange upbringing so this story is kinda personal to me even though it’s about a cleric and a vampire

novel (hades) - a story about looking for adventure and finding love and family instead. i had so much fun writing this and posted weekly without pre-writing which was a challenge but it all worked out

patchwork self (datv) - a story about finding pieces of your brother in yourself. i wrote a lot of structured fic this year and i think this one flowed the easiest and was the most precise in how it delivered the message i was trying to get across, also it’s gen which i never write

my most written pairing: thanzag with 11 stories! not surprising since ive spent most of the year humiliating myself over thanatos

my most used tags: romance, introspection, character study

what i learned: i learned above all to trust myself! this year i wrote and completed three multi chapter fics that i didn’t prewrite and posted week by week until it was done. i’ve never been able to do that before but this year i just did it and didn’t overthink it, and i trusted that i could finish the stories and i did lol i can do anything i think i just have to trust myself a little

what i want to write next year: i would like very much to write something original, i have a loose idea so i just need to sit down and write so my goal is really small and simple, hopefully i don’t let myself down

#2024 wrapped #my writing #in like 2 months im moving west to the other side of this country…… its going to be scary but I believe this new start will push me to #write my story #i can do it lol i know i can i just have to be serious about it #anyway thank you for like not exaggerating thank you for my life lol #idk what i would be doing if i wasn’t writing #so you reading anything i write means the world to me like genuinely #thank you :) and here’s to 300k more words next year #and if like 10k of that can be original that would be cool too lol #also not to gross anyone out but oh god someone’s gonna block me over this but i wrote every single one of these 359k words on my phone #on the google docs app lol #Throw tomatoes #🍅

68 notes · View notes

aballadforbarbatos · 4 months ago

Text

the brothers discover fanfic historical romance about them on the shelf

(separate)

inspired by an established zhongven idea i had with my friend where venti writes romantic stories about the two of them together and it gets really popular in liyue to the point of there being an actual book club and hu tao and childe and enjou and xingqiu are all super into it and zhongli doesn’t actually know that venti’s behind all this

i never did write the part 2 to that immortal post. maybe that will be next. also don’t think too hard about the privacy laws or anything just accept that it could be possible lmao

you needed a bit of extra cash. drawing on the brothers’ unique knowledge of things (satan’s romance books, mammon and valuing things, etc.), you publish very popular stories about dating them. you think you might expand to diavolo next.

(long post ahead)

LUCIFER

diavolo makes a special trip all the way to the house of lamentation just to hand him this book

in front of everyone

the brothers are snickering away, but you look on with interest.

“that type of book doesn’t interest me, and even if it did, i don’t have the time to read it.”

diavolo doesn’t take no for an answer and insists, saying that he NEEDS to hear his thoughts on it

so lucifer sighs and takes the pristine book, but he doesn’t get to reading it until he goes to bed.

“i wouldn’t act like that.” (yes he would)

he hits the middle and after that, it’s all over. you immediately become the protagonist, and he devours the pages faster than satan could ever hope to

reads it again. and again. and again; finding little details that he missed before, mammon accidentally got dirt on the cover while he was sneaking around lucifer’s room, and lucifer tossed him out a window

“glad to see you’re enjoying the book,” you say to him at some point, winking at him. “you know, a little birdie tells me there’s a sequel coming out soon.”

doesn’t quite catch on that you’re the author, but you can be damn sure he bought that second book too

MAMMON

bought it

didn’t think about what people might think of him

brags about it

“what if people think you’re a loser for buying your own romance book” he visibly wilts

you scowl at the speaker, and then say “mammon i think you’re so cool and brave for buying the book! i’m out of money but i was looking at buying it too!!”

silence. the jealousy is thick in the air. why did you want to read a romance book about falling in love with MAMMON, MC?

anyway, mammon stutters over his usual “well yeah why wouldn’t you”, then settles into his room to read it and escape his brothers’ piercing stares.

he is astonished by how the story portrays him. is the author a greed demon? no, not even the lower demons of his sin know about this.

DEVOURS the book. as soon as he realises the MC is lovely and kind, he immediately sticks you in the main spot. he’s the fastest to do this out of all the brothers

he rereads it the most, too. again and again and again, and then he remembers you said you were interested in it, so…

awkwardly hands you this dog-eared copy of a mammon love story, you smile so brightly up at him that he thinks he might collapse

you read his well-read book and can tell all the parts where he got emotional, from the tear stains to the crinkles in the page. this book is the one you were most gentle with, since he’s your first and all…

knowing he enjoyed it this much gives you a high that lasts for weeks, and the idea for a sequel!

LEVI

sees it on the shelf.

wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole

you shove it into his hands in the end and tell him that everyone’s reading theirs so he may as well join the party (nobody else knows this information)

well… if everyone else is, then…

shocked. amazed! shocked that it portrays him so nicely. amazed that it DOESN’T make him seem like a loser!

well there’s probably only one person that thinks of him like that, so…

he puts you as the main character, but doesn’t make the connection

feels very happy reading about pretend-you’s feelings towards him! wow, MC, could this be how you really feel?

…maybe?

puts it in a special place when he’s finished and has a giddy smile on his face for days after reading it

you decide you adore this expression

you’re sad to see it go

you tell him that you’ve read it and you’re so happy that it looks like there’s going to be a sequel

the smile returns! with a big blush because why the in the hell were YOU reading it?!

now you just need to think of an idea…

SATAN

if anyone’s going to find those books first, it’ll be satan.

in fact, he finds them during their early days, before they’ve made any real traction

sends someone else to go and get it for him though

he can’t be seen buying a romance book about HIMSELF??

speed reads it under the pretense of studying

as soon as he starts, he immediately puts you in the main character’s spot

it is NOT the trash he was expecting, it is like sitting by a peaceful brook with the birds chirping on a warm day

hands it to you. “READ THIS. and then tell me what you think.” you don’t ask why he’s reading a romance book about himself

when you do tell him what you think it’s full of author insights, and then you realise that sharing thoughts with him as given you an idea for a sequel. you make up some crap about how the ending points to another book

he’s overjoyed

with your newfound cash, you take him out to dinner to celebrate the release of the sequel when it comes. which you “read” in full view of the other brothers.

ASMO

another one that buys the book in person

also the one who bought satan’s book for him, so he just picked them both up at the same time

he’s not worried about it being associated with his image; he thinks it’s cute!

and also way better than he expected it to be????

he doesn’t read it in one go, but it’s always on his mind

it doesn’t take much to put you in the MC’s spot; they smiled at him, he was reminded of you, and suddenly you were just in the book! crazy

finishes it. gives it a public endorsement (his brothers think he’s crazy). starts a book club!

and of COURSE you join it, because “of course i’ve read it, how could i not?”

not only is the group positively massive, when a sequel is published, they put on a massive party to celebrate

you truly feel like that book is your greatest accomplishment

BEEL

it catches his eye while he’s waiting for satan

he was promised a bought lunch and he’s sure as hell going to get it- what’s that?

the thought that people might find it weird does not even come into his head. he doesn’t care

he buys it and then promptly forgets about it until a month later when he sees it on a high shelf in the kitchen (he got distracted)

dusts off the cover and reads it while he waits for one of his brothers to cook dinner. has a side snack anyway though, and gets crumbs all over the pages. you smile fondly when you see this

beel is mesmerised by this book. it takes him a little while to get into it, but he keeps reading because there’s not really anything else he could fit in. BOY is his patience rewarded!

between kissing this main character and them gently reassuring him and treating him exactly as- hey, wait a second.

anyway, he totally loves it. reads it all the way through dinner, but nobody tells him to put the book down, even though satan gets told off for it all the time

after dinner he says he’ll do cleanup and then immediately wants to talk to you during it. you kind of have an idea what it’s about

he’s the only brother that catches onto the author’s identity

you wrote the books, right?

yeah… i didn’t want to get a job but i was also low on grimm, so…

thank you. i really liked mine.

yeah? did you put me as the main character? i know the others did, so it’s okay to tell me! :3

BELPHIE

buys it just to mock it

tells everyone he’s going to mock it, too

he’s the last one to buy his, and everyone that’s finished reading theirs just look at him disbelievingly

the MC is so lame, he says; satan’s head whips around and hisses, forgetting that the MC in his book (which he sees as you now anyway) may not be the same as in his book

he does settle down properly and read it though, in the attic

he starts off by reading it in bad faith and points out something the main character says that he thinks is stupid

thoroughly used to his behaviour by now, you brush it off and repeat the line back to him, effectively you-ifying the main character

oh. oh this book is suddenly so good. devours it. rereads it to make up for the parts he lost out on.

feels really bad for dissing it early so he makes a social media post promoting it

your bank account is getting more money than mammon can drain it! you thank him with a kiss on the cheek. he has no idea what it’s for

117 notes · View notes

murasaki-cha · 5 months ago

Text

Ok I finally read the Jester x Witch manhwa that has grabbed the entire manhwa twitter community by the throat and I LOVE IT!! I want at least 5 seasons of this and 50 side story chapters. Also I read that it's also thriller and mystery and I am SEATED!! GIMME MORE!!!

Ok to explain some stuff

First of all this is not an official manhwa. It's for a competition on Naver and it will only get published if it wins. So far it has only one chapter.

The name is "어느 마녀의 회고록/ A Witch's Memoir"

It's set in the 16th century, and revolves around Lily, a witch who was captured as a young girl, during a witch hunt and is used by the king. She is contemned and feared by everyone in the castle while the (bastard) king keeps her captured to use her power to his advantage, as she is the last witch left alive after the hunt.

The only person who doesn't hate her is the new court jester, who always approaches her to mess with her and compliment her calling her beautiful. Lily has no idea why he does that and even when she tries to ignore him, he still continues with his compliments.

The genre of this webtoon is mystery-thriller-romance and it will have 3 chapter for the duration of the competition. It really intrigued me because, first of all the character designs are to die for LOOK AT THEM! And second of all, right of the bat, it gives the eerie mystery vibe and leave a lot of things unanswered which make you look forward to the next chapter.

First, is Lily actually a witch? From the moment she was captured and when she was presented to the king, she kept denying she was a witch. It was only because she saw the little boy she lived with that she did admit it. Is she actually a witch? Was the little boy a witch and she did it to protect him? There was a moment where magic is shown to be used when they're both playing but you can't tell who is using it.

Is Jester the little boy? I'm pretty sure he is. Lily noted that he is the only person who doesn't fear her, when she is literally molded into and object of fear by the king. Even the webtoon synopsis brings his favor towards her into question. It would make sense if he was the boy. And even in the cover, we see Jester in a portrait, standing in front of a covered up black haired boy. That person does not look like the king to me. (but it would be tragic if it means we will lose his beautiful teal colored hair for some generic black please never change your hair your character design is so unique babygirl)

Anyway if I managed to get you as hooked as I am into this, then use THIS LINK HERE to go to Naver webtoon, follow it and like the episode. So far it's one of the top competitors in the contest.

Edit: Also I'm gonna be completely honest, when I first saw this I had major Heartless flashbacks AND WE ALL KNOW HOW THAT ENDED (happily ever after of course obviously)

#manhwa #webtoon #manhwa promo #manhwa recommendation #webtoon recommendation #naver webtoon #어느 마녀의 회고록 #a witch's memoir

111 notes · View notes

f1thememp3 · 1 month ago

Text

2024 f1c rec wrap up

just a little collection of some of my fave fics i've read this year. not all were published this year, but i read them in 2024 and this is my list. so. anywho. endlessly grateful for all the lovely talented writers on our corner of the internet <3

🏠 this is not a dream by @officialmood daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [45k words]

When he was awake, Daniel couldn’t summon the pain. He knew it had hurt, and badly, but awake he couldn’t feel it. But when he was asleep, he could.

🏆 the winner takes it all by worlds_okayest_goalie daniel ricciardo/max verstappen; fernando alonso/lance stroll [series]

In each team, drivers vie for the position of First Driver, clawing their way through the points. If you're not the First, you're the Second, beholden to whatever form of mentoring the First decides upon. If you're even unluckier, you're the Third and the team principal will deal with you. Idealistically, the system is meant to create more parity in driver training and form strong team connections. In reality, Firsts get the glory and power and what happens next is entirely in their hands.

🖤 island of doubt by @redpaint carlos sainz/lando norris [1.8k words]

Love is the hardest thing he’s ever done. Lando puts his heart in Carlos’s hands and just trusts him not to drop it. Carlos feels filthy, feels himself contaminating Lando with every day he doesn’t say something. He wants to shake Lando’s shoulders: can’t you see what I am?

🌿 did not finish by @nobrakesdown daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [20k words]

He can’t freak Max out, Daniel tells himself. Nothing’s wrong, he’s overreacting. He’s hormonal and fixating on the smallest things. Or, a treatise on getting what you didn't know you wanted, and what happens when you lose it.

🔗 i feel so much, i feel so numb by @f1-stuff charles leclerc/carlos sainz [22k words]

As long as he’s known what a soulmate is, he’s known his soulmate’s name. Carlos. Scrawled along the delicate skin of his right wrist.

💫 off the golden by @lilyrizzy daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [12k words]

Max knows he takes a lot. Daniel gives him what he wants, often without Max having to ask for it. Max wants to know what Daniel wants. What he would ask Max for if he trusted Max the same way Max trusts him.

🍝 questo è amore by @no-regrets-only-memories daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [14k words]

Daniel is happy. He lives in Italy, has made some decent friends, and owns the cafe of his dreams. It's a really great life, all things considered. So what if he doesn't have some blockbuster romance? [ENTER Max]

👨🏼‍🤝‍👨🏻 the being unknown by @pinesolprincess daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [24k words]

Exchanging is rare enough that sometimes it seems more myth than reality. And it is not always welcome. People are out of practice with it, uncomfortable with the unexplained and uninterested in something bigger than their understanding, something they cannot control. Daniel thinks it sounds like bullshit anyway.

💋 warm mouth (kind soul) by @wormeo-and-juliette fernando alonso/lance stroll; lance stroll/everyone [45k words]

Lance is the kind of guy who’s never wanted for anything in his life. Nothing material, at least. He’s been given a lot over the years and it means he’s good at giving in return. He knows how to see what people need before they ask for it. He knows how to give it to them in a way they’ll accept. (People don’t really like Lance but they like sex. Lance is going to Pavlov the shit out of them.)

🤝 perturbation theory by @ultrasofts charles leclerc/sebastian vettel + mark webber [19k words]

“Who is the first guy you ever slept with?” Sebastian sighs and screws his eyes shut, like he’s bracing himself for disaster but can’t see another way out. “It was Mark.” “Mark who?” Charles asks automatically, before his brain catches up. He blinks. “Mark Webber?” Sebastian nods, eyes still closed, still flushed, and Charles stares at him. “What the fuck?” he asks. “You hated each other.” * Charles learns about Sebastian’s past and thinks about his future.

🧶 holding me tonight by @the-ships-to-rule-them-all daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [10k words]

As soulmates, Max can feel Daniel's emotions. Nothing about the 2022 season changes yet everything does. or five times Max reaches out to Daniel and one time Daniel is the brave one.

💍 pull the car over (to find some rest) by @magicalrocketships daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [25k words]

Verstappens don't cry, and Max learned his lesson well. He'd barely even cried when his fucking husband left him a fucking note that said you're the best person I've ever met and I'll love you forever but this is killing me and didn't leave a fucking forwarding address. You can't fucking divorce someone who disappears off the face of the fucking planet.

#f1 rpf #maxiel #carlando #strollonso #charlos #formula 1 #f1

43 notes · View notes

darlingofdots · 5 months ago

Text

What is a romance novel, really?

So far, the response to this post has mostly shown me that a lot of people don't actually know what a romance novel is, and that's okay! I don't expect everyone to know! However, for my own peace of mind, I am going to do my best to explain what we mean when we talk about romance novels, where the genre comes from, and why you should not dismiss the pastel cartoon covers that are taking over the display tables at your nearest chain bookshop. Two disclaimers up front: I've been reading romance novels since I was a teenager, and have dedicated the majority of my academic career to them. I'm currently working on my PhD and have presented/published several papers about the genre; I know what I'm talking about! Secondly, all genres are fake. They're made up. But we use these terms and definitions in order to describe what we see and that's a very important part of science, including literary studies!

The most widely used definition of "romance novel" to this day is from Pamela Regis' 2003 A Natural History of the Romance Novel, in which she states that "A romance novel is a work of prose fiction that tells the story of the courtship and betrothal of one or more [protagonists]."* People also refer to the Romance Writers of America's "a central love story and an emotionally satisfying and optimistic ending" and another term you will see a lot is "Happily Ever After/Happy For Now," which posits that the protagonists must be in a committed and happy relationship at the end of the novel in order to count as a romance novel. That's it. That's what a romance novel is.

Of course it's a bit more complex than that; Regis also posited the Eight Essential Elements which describe the progression of the love plot over the course of the book, and there's a similar breakdown from Gwen Hayes in Romancing the Beat that is intended more as writing advice, but both of these are really useful for breaking down how this narrative structure works. My personal favourite part of the Eight Elements is that the romance opens with a definition of the society in which the protagonists exist, which is flawed in a way that oppresses them, and then the protagonists either overcome or fix it in a way that enables them to achieve their HEA. A lot of social commentary can happen this way!

It can also be a bit difficult to pin down what exactly counts as a "central love story" because who decides? A lot of stories have romance arcs in them, including dudebro action movies and noir mystery novels, but you would never argue that the romance is the central plot. A lot of romance novels have external plots like solving a mystery or saving the bakery. A useful question to ask in this case is whether the external plot exists for its own sake or to facilitate the romance: when Lydia runs off with Wickham in Pride & Prejudice, it's so that Lizzie can find out how much Darcy contributed to saving her family from scandal and realise her own feelings for him. The alien abduction in Ice Planet Barbarians happens specifically so the abducted human women can meet and fall in love with the hunky aliens. There are definitely grey areas here! Romance scholars argue about this all the time!

I have a suspicion that a lot of people who responded to the post I linked above are not actually romance readers, which is fine, but it really shows the lack of understanding of what a romance novel is. I have a secondary suspicion that the way we have been talking about books has contributed to this miscategorisation in a lot of people's minds, because especially with queer books we will often specifically point out that this fantasy book is f/f! This dystopian novel has a gay love story! This puts an emphasis on the romance elements that are present in a book when a lot of the time, the romance arc is just flavouring for the adventure/uprising/heist and we are pointing it out only because its queerness makes it stand out against other non-queer titles. It makes sense why we do this, but there is SUCH a difference between "a sci-fi book with an f/f romance arc" and "an f/f sci-fi romance." I could talk for hours about how the romance genre has evolved alongside and often in the same way as fanfiction and how there are codes and tropes that come up again and again that are immediately recognisable to romance readers, even down to phrases and cover design, and how romance is an incredibly versatile and diverse genre that functions in a very specific way because of that evolutionary process. The same way that dedicated fantasy readers can trace the genealogy of a given text's influences ("this writer definitely plays a lot of DnD which has its roots in the popularity of Tolkien, but they're deliberately subverting these tropes to critique the gender essentialism"), romance readers are often very aware of the building blocks and components of their books. These building blocks (that's what tropes are, lego pieces you put together to create a story!) often show up in other genres as well, especially as part of romantic arcs, but that doesn't make every book that features Only One Bed a romance novel, you know?

Romance is an incredibly versatile and diverse genre and I really highly recommend exploring it for yourself if you haven't. I personally read mostly Regency/Victorian historicals and I've been branching out into specifically f/f contemporaries, and there are so many authors who are using the romance framework to tell beautiful, hard-hitting stories about love and family while grappling with issues of discrimination, disability, mental health, capitalism, you name it. The genre has a very specific image in a lot of people's minds which makes them resistant to it and it's not entirely unjustified, but there is so much more to it than Bridgerton and repackaged Star Wars fanfiction!**

*the original text said "heroines" but Regis later revised this. There is a very good reason for the focus on the heroine in the first couple waves of romance scholarship, but that's a different post!

**neither of these are a bad thing and part of that genealogy that I mentioned earlier.

#dottie rambles #romance on main #romance novels #dottie academes

67 notes · View notes

foreverisntenough · 7 months ago

Text

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series is 18+ and will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 28 - In My Dreams | ‘Ours’

word count - 10.7 k

You were sitting at the kitchen table on your Mac starting to figure out some semblance of a plan for how Teddy’s schooling would work. Of course the club provided a lot of assistance with this because it was slightly an abnormal dynamic but also Trent and more specifically Dianne obviously knew the area and school system well. Regardless of all of this help… you did not. You didn’t go to school ever in the uk. You didn’t even study abroad in England because you already ‘knew it’ well because of your dad. Now you were regretting that and kicking yourself for believing that having an English passport meant you knew anything. Needless to say you found yourself in a wormhole of information about dos and don’t, public, private, religious affiliation, all sorts of things fueling your anxiety and worry about making sure you’re little girl got the best but most normal experience she could. You definitely had access to a lot more opportunities than most given your situation but the anxiety was still high. You were entranced in an article until a large ‘whap’ sound echoed scaring the shit out of you.

“Holy shit!” You exclaimed really not expecting the sudden loud noise. You laid your hand over your heart to make sure it was still beating normally. A pile of 10 glossy magazines slapped down on the table next to you. You looked up to see a cheeky grin plastered to Trent’s face.

“Heard there’s an absolute sort in this issue ya know.” He cooed with a slight giggle. You rolled your eyes at him and pulled the stack to you across the slick table top. “Go on. Open one! I’ve been waiting for you. I haven’t seen it officially yet!” He exclaimed. You grabbed one copy and flicked through the magazine to find your published article.

“See that is a fucking good looking lad.” Trent continued to laugh at himself pointing to one picture with him in it. You sighed, inspecting your own appearance ignoring his lighthearted joke. He wrapped his arms tight around your shoulder from behind your chair. “Baby, you look fucking unreal. Please. You’re so beautiful. This is so exciting. Come on.” He tried to get you to be happy about the feature but you just felt critical.

“I look okay? I’m scared to even turn the page to see the rest.” You mumbled out leaning your head back into Trent.

“Y/N… UN fucking believable. I want these framed in the house also. This is so cool, baby. Please just be excited, at least for me. I’m so proud of you, yeah?” He cooed smushing his cheek to yours. You knew if he was calling you your first name he was being serious.

“Okay. It is kind of cool.” You mumbled out hating you were admitting that Trent was right but he was. This was actually a dream of yours. You were in British GQ. You were in British GQ and not just some small blurb, this was a full article, multiple pages. Photos of you and your family blown up printed on glossy paper and typed quotes of yours.you smiled reading the headline Bentley Brown actually used a that you’d mentioned to Trent before.

‘From Manhattan to Merseyside.’

From a whirlwind romance struck on a Manhattan street corner Y/N Alexander-Arnold née Y/L/N and her husband, one of football’s brightest stars, England’s Trent Alexander-Arnold captivated both sides of the Atlantic when they first were spotted galavanting in Manchester late into the night. The couple tied the knot this past summer in an equally lavish as it was relaxed ceremony on Y/N’s home soil. Family and friends only… and us. Y/N Alexander-Arnold, the epitome of glamour and high society, seamlessly blended their luxurious lifestyles, trading the bustling streets of Manhattan to a sprawling estate in the English countryside. Their story, marked by years of quiet cuddles hidden in the stands of the worlds biggest stages, designer wardrobes, and high-profile circles, has become the talk of the town, showcasing a perfect fusion of American charm and British elegance. Curious who the woman is with the pearly white smile and model figure sporting the number 66 every match week, we were too.

“Damn fucking right it’s cool. Baby look. You look so sexy in this, you sound so intelligent, the whole thing. It’s massive and you deserve recognition like this.” Trent was your biggest cheerleader and it made your heart want to leap out of your chest. He was so sweet. He pulled one of the chairs out from your kitchen table and sat down, legs spread wide, relaxing back into it picking up a copy of the magazine. He opened it to the page where the article began. He picked his head up with a devastatingly handsome smirk and patted his thigh for you to come sit. You obliged by standing up and moving to him. You sat on his strong muscular thigh in Dior silk pants and a white bralette. Trent’s big warm hands quick to wrap around your small waist squeezing you. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. “You look so fucking good. Ooff baby, I’ll tell you what that Trent Alexander-Arnold’s lad, he’s pretty fucking lucky, huh?” He joked dragging his finger over your body’s frame in one of the photos. He kissed your head with a hum.

“Thank you for being there for me, T. Really. It means so much to me like I know I would never be in a magazine if it weren’t for you.” You began to talk with a bit of a frown reflecting on the circumstances at which this feature came. Yes, it was about you but it was because you were Trent’s wife. You were proud to be his wife but of course it wasn’t the first time you’d felt like this tinge of insignificance. The magazine feature should have been 100% a good, positive, exciting thing but instead it felt like there would always be this bit of you, this percentile you couldn’t quite ever dwindle down that felt lesser than him. You remembered the fight you had before you went to New York after the FA Cup.

‘It felt like you could never measure up to the golden boy that was in the room with you. No matter where you went or what you did he was always going to look sparkly and new, fantastical and interesting and you couldn’t feel more opposite. You had been stripped of a sense of individualisation and identity. You were Teddy’s mum and Trent’s fiance. Y/N didn’t matter, anyone could fill in the blank of your name. The icing on the cake was the image you were trying to uphold all the while.’

“You know what, beautiful? I really don’t believe that. You could be a fucking centerfold.” Trent cut you off with a sincere smile as he flipped to the next page seeing arguably your favorite photo from the entire shoot. It was Trent carrying you thrown over his shoulder, Teddy chasing after you two out in your back garden. You could practically hear her giggle through the page. The photographer really captured your family beautifully. Even in your moments of feeling most insecure there would always be that silver lining, the most shiny gorgeous silver lining that was Trent and the little girl you made together.

“T…” You whined quietly trying to let him know you were attempting to be serious. “I just… I appreciate what you’ve given to me and I don’t mean the tangible things. I mean I love them.” You paused to giggle because let’s be honest the house, the cars, the holidays, the clothes, the jewelry were lovely. You smiled playing with one of the gold clovers of your Van Cleef necklace. “I just mean for how you make me feel, what you’ve done for me. Not to like get serious on you but you know I still have a hard time sometimes but it’s always okay because I have you. I have you and you made it so for the first time in my life I know that even as dark as it gets you’re there and that’s all I need.” You sighed hiding your face in the nape of his neck feeling bad that you just unloaded on him.

“You have me in the darkest and brightest moments of your life baby. I’m here for it all. And the best part about that is we got our little bestie along for the ride now too. Call me biased but that, and I'm not exaggerating, that is the cutest most perfect little girl I’ve ever seen.” Trent smiled inspecting the photo of the three of you. Ironic considering Teddy was a copy paste of him but you did agree.

“I think you’re right. You know what? I think we don’t tell Ted about this and just let her flip through till she sees us.” You laughed, turning your gaze from the magazine pages to Trent who was mindless licking over his lips. You hummed appreciating the view.

“That’s jokes, baby. Yeah, what time is it? When we wake her up we’ll show her. I want to see her reaction so don’t do it without me.” Trent cooed cupping your cheek. He stroked his thumb over your cheek looking deep into your eyes. “‘I’m proud of you baby. I know this was new and difficult for you. I am so proud of you, don’t forget that, okay?” He gently spoke, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“Thank you, baby. That means so much to me. So huh? You’re nice, you’re cute, you’re supportive, you’re sexy, arent you just perfect?” You teased kissing his forehead. He rolled his eyes.

“I am and so are you. Don’t forget that either.” He laughed squeezing your side.

“Look who's awake. My sleepy girl, want to go give daddy a cuddle?” You cooed to a very tired Teddy snuggling into you as you held her walking into the living room from upstairs after her nap. She pouted but you put her down anyway knowing that she would want a cuddle from Trent. She was just too tired to answer you.

“C’mere, baby bear.” Trent smiled big at her and grunted dramatically picking up her light weight body when she finally made it over to where he was sitting on the couch. “My beautiful girl.” Trent cooed, kissing her. You watched Teddy’s pink lips curl into an adorable smile. “Want to show me how smart you are? Can you tell me what this says.” Trent asked Teddy, flashing your eyes to you and pulling her further into his lap whilst he leaned forward to grab a copy of the issue of British GQ off the coffee table. On the cover off to the side there was the list of cover lines featured in the magazine, one of which read ‘Meet Mrs. Alexander-Arnold’ to lead into your interview. Trent traced his finger under the headline. Teddy couldn’t really read just yet. She could get words but it wasn’t like she was going to be reading the full article or anything but Trent knew she’d be able to read her surname.

“Alszander Arnal.” Teddy tried her best to pronounce your surname. To be fair, it was a little tricky and she was getting there. Honestly though, you liked the way she kind of stumbled her way through it. It was really really cute. As she said the double barreled last name aloud though she turned her head befuddled to Trent at why she was reading her surname for him and why it was on this magazine.

“Yeah, good girl! Alexander-Arnold. What do you think is in the magazine?” You applauded her effort and then asked her. She just furrowed her brow. Trent flicked through the magazine until he got near the feature and then made Teddy turn page by page. She got to the one before and Trent started to laugh preemptively.

“Mama!” Teddy screamed as she peeled the page back. There it was the first image of you covering an entire page. “Dada! Look is Mama!!! My mama!” She yelled with a massive smile on her face. Bewildered, surprised, and ecstatic.

“And who’s that? Is that my baby bear with daddy and mummy.” Trent turned the page for her once more and there was the photo of the three of you. She just squealed, picking the magazine up to have a closer look at herself chasing after you and Trent on the turf pitch with a football.

“Is that my pretty girl?” You cooed, coming to sit next to them. Trent pulled you by the waist of your trousers closer to him and Teddy.

“Das me, Mama!!! Teddy!” Teddy shrieked whilst trying to finagle her way out of Trent’s hold handing over the copy. She climbed off the couch and stood in front of you two. She reached out with grabby hands and pulled on Trent’s joggers. “Dada go ‘side like in piture. Footie ‘side now, tay?” She incessantly pulled and pulled on the fabric until he finally sat up some more and let go of his hold of you dropping the magazine into your lap, going to live the printed picture in real life.

“Okay, okay! The Teddy Alexander- Arnold wants to play footie with me? I can’t say no to that, can I?” Trent laughed, at her greedy smile pulling himself to get up with another grunt and a kiss to her forehead. “Alright, yeah it’s my day off but yeah, I’ll play footie.” He said more to you then to Teddy. He’d do anything for her. Was he exhausted and not in the mood to chase after your toddler outside in the freezing weather? Most definitely not but he would bundle Teddy up, throw on a pair of trainers and have a little kick about if it made his little girl smile. Every single time.

“Can you imagine if there were two of her.” You giggled watching Teddy pull on Trent’s facial hair as he zipped up her tan Moncler jacket. He removed her hand from his face for her with a laugh.

“Yeah, well then mummy would also have to go outside in the freezing cold because we’d need to have even numbers. 2 v 2. Right, Ted? Would you be on mummy’s team or daddy’s?” Trent asked Teddy.

“Erm… dada.” She was quick with her response gigging cheekily. You rolled your eyes kneeing before she even responded that would be her answer. Trent stayed bent over tying Teddy’s tiny brown Adidas campers that he had gotten her so they could match. If it was possible, in anyway, Teddy wanted to be like Trent. Naturally, Trent was flattered so anytime he got PR or grabbed anything from Adidas or really any brand he’d make sure to ask if they had a size for her. It didn’t bother you the way you thought it might have. Initially after you had Teddy you were so offended by her preference but now if she latched to him and gave you a minute alone it wasn’t always the worst thing. Lately, though you hadn’t really wanted that moment alone. You liked that she was so enamored with him. You definitely understand the attachment but you also knew when it came to certain things she’d quickly drop her daddy’s girl persona and come running to you. Needs her hair done? Mama. Is tired? Mama. A Cuddle? Definitely mama. Is Hungry? Mama. And hungry you knew the two TAA’s in your back garden would be when they came back in. They played for what felt like ages outside in the freezing cold while you got started on dinner. You could hear Teddy’s squeals, giggles, and ‘dada’s’ from inside. You were thrilled knowing that she’d be exhausted after Trent ran her ragged and would fall right to sleep tonight.

When you woke up the following morning Trent was feeling particularly handsy with you. Before you had fully even come to his big hands were kneading your boobs his thumbs lightly brushing over your nipples under the lacey blue pajamas you were in.

“Well good morning to you to baby.” You breathily giggled pushing your ass back into his morning hard on thinly covered by his boxers. You turned around still keeping yourself wrapped in his arms and pushed your nose against his. Trent’s hands drifted down your body to your hips and he pulled you tighter into him.

“Good morning to the sexiest girl in the world. I had a dream about you last night and let me tell you… wow.” He spoke with a morning raspiness in his voice that was unintentionally really turning you on.

“Really? Better than in real life?” You responded back, flickering your eyes between his sleepy brown ones and his perfectly plump lips silently suggesting that you play out whatever happened in his wet dream right now.

“Well…” Trent began speaking and your eyes shot open ready to be offended. “Relax…” he squeezed you. “Hold on, was just trying to say that sometimes I’m not entirely sure I’m not just dreaming every time I’m in bed with you. I don’t think it’s possible for someone to be so good, skin to be this soft,” he dragged his fingers purposefully up and down your side sending a shiver of anticipation up your spine. “ lips be so pillowy, god..” He groaned, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip as his other hand began to wander all over your body with much more intention. “These tits, just there's no way this is real life. You can’t possibly be real.” He rattled on with a more serious tone than you would’ve expected. You thought maybe he would have fallen into a joking manner but Trent was serious. He really felt that way. He was in a trance looking at you this morning.

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m only just for you, made for you.” You teased wrapping your hands around the back of his head and gently pulling him into you for a kiss.

“Made for me. Just my real life angel, yeah?” He whispered, ghosting his lips over yours. Your lips falling into open mouth kisses. You moaned into his mouth when one of his hands dropped towards your panty covered pussy. He dragged his finger teasingly over the dampening fabric.

“If I’m your angel, baby then what does that make you?” You asked him almost out of breath pulling away from the vulgar kiss moving your lips and kisses over his jaw and down onto his neck.

“I don’t know but hell, baby you make me want to fucking sin.” Trent groaned as he rolled his head to the side giving you more room to nip away at his sensitive skin. He was in a mood the morning and you were onto it.

“I need you” You murmured against his skin desperately. You could feel your pussy pulsating and growing hot just from his teasing touch. Trent was salivating at the thought of you long before you’d even woken up. You could’ve had some sort of gradual build up or foreplay but you both were too hasty, too eager, you needed each other, you couldn’t wait. He fucked the daylights out of you. Orgasm after orgasm and yet you craved more.

“You’re just insatiable, aren’t you?” Trent smirked at you as he lined his cock up with your sopping wet entrance for round two. The sheets of your bed were practically damp sticking to your skin. You had no idea how long you and Trent had been going at for but you were thanking your lucky stars that Teddy had yet to wake up because you didn’t want this to end.

“I just want more and more of you, baby.” You begged pulling Trent by his hips into you again. He slowly pushed himself into your warm velvety pussy. You wrapped your legs around him greedily. You dragged him into a messy kiss moaning into his mouth when his cock hit deeper inside of you.

“Good, because I can’t get enough. Be a good girl and take all of me.” He pulled away from the kiss and whispered back, a soft smile lining his lips. “Fuck, baby you feel so good.” He muttered out as you did as instructed, taking every inch of him to the hilt. His voice still plagued by a morning raspiness that had you a mess beneath him. Trent bottomed out with a grunt as you clenched around him.

“T…baby.” You whined feeling euphoric in a way that it felt like you were fucking him for the very first time. You’d been so horny for him lately. Your emotions were all over the place. You were sad one minute or stressed the next hour and then happy the following day, it was constantly changing but the one thing that never shook, never faltered and would probably never change was how fucking bad you wanted Trent.he was addicting. He could see the emotions play out on your face; love, lust, pleasure, and your pure vulnerability with him. You’d let him do anything, you trusted his love for you.

“I know, baby. I’m right here. Doing so good f’me.” He whispered, leaning his forehead down against your shoulder. He slid his face up into your neck and placed gentle kisses to your skin as he began to thrust into you, creating the perfect rhythm, the symphony of your moans, his groans, the sound of your skin, pornographic. Both of you were incredibly sensitive after your orgasmic first round. You tightened your pussy’s grip around Trent’s length and he shivered. Your face falling into an ‘o’ as your brows pinched. Something about this felt different. He felt so good despite you being so sore so sensitive. You weren’t sure sex had ever felt this good, you had no idea why, it was a random weekday morning, but you were not complaining. “I know, I know, baby. So good f’me.” Trent continued coaching you through stretching you out more and more as his soft plump lips grazed over your slick skin. He breathed you in with a groan. Your scent drove him crazy. He was so in love with you. Every bit of you. Every feature had him down terribly bad. No amount of time together would ever be enough for either of you. He needed all of you all the time. As desperate as you had been feeling, you had dragged Trent into the depths of the emotion with you and right now you were both benefiting from its repercussions. Your eyes began to water from the pleasurable feeling of his strokes but more so from the eye contact you two were holding, the emotion behind his eyes had you having a hard time swallowing. “I love you so much, baby. I love you. You have no idea, so fucking much.” Trent babbled away getting lost in you, his voice certain in his words. “I love you so much it could kill me.” Trent’s thrust faltered a little. He meant that. You were all consuming to him.

“I love you, T. I love you so much. I couldn’t live without you. I love you, I love you, I… I…” You babbled back to him just the same, lost in your feelings, tears streaming down your face . Your words only halted by the gasp and sudden intake of air you sucked in when Trent’s hand dropped in between you two working his fingers in tight circles over your clit. He was pounding into you aggressively and yet he never felt more loving. He gripped your thigh with his free hand, his fingers digging into the plushness of you pushing it up to your chest. He dropped his face down simultaneously and began to suck on one of your nipples. He was doing so much at once you couldn’t focus. You were completely at his mercy, submissive to any way he folded your body and you loved every single second of it.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby. I’m gonna cum again. Fuck you feel so good. Can you cum with me?” Trent’s words were muffled by his face buried in your tits. You could barely respond. All you could do was moan and whine out his name. “Hmm? Can you cum f’me?” He asked again as your thighs shook. You weren’t sure how many times you had orgasmed this morning. You nodded pathetically unable to even identify where you were. You were holding it together by the flimsiest of threads. It wasn’t exactly a big ask to let it snap. Your orgasm came before his, crashing over you, your pleasure always his priority. You squirmed under him as you creamed all on his throbbing cock. Trent groaned as you clenched tighter around him. He drew out his high thrusting into you still. He didn’t let you come down, he just layered a secondary orgasm on top of the last. You felt a type of blissful delirium you could never articulate with words, it was indescribably good. Trent let out a filthy groan as he hit his own climax. Your eyes rolled back and your heels dragged down his muscular back as you felt him fill you up as promised, pumping you full. His warm release leaking out between you two still connected. Trent lazily kissed you as he stilled, laying his body weight onto you. If you could, you wished he could just stay inside you forever. It was like this was the safest, most comfortable you could be. It was what you had been craving. Him. You needed him. At the beginning of your relationship with him, day one in fact Trent was adamant telling you that you were his. He’d tell you ‘you’re mine’ on repeat and you had a hard time believing it. How he knew that, thought that so early on. Sometimes you wondered how he had such foresight because right now as he rolled over and pulled you to lay on top of him you stared into your husband’s beautiful mahogany puppy dog eyes that you hard time wrapping your head around that they could also do all the dirty things he had just done with you, you knew he was right from the start. You were his and he was yours. You cupped his cheeks with your hands and rested your slightly slick forehead against his. The glow on your face had Trent pink lips curling into a tired smirk. His hands caressed your bare back up and down your spine with a hum as your erratic breaths slowly began to even out. You ran one hand over his hair and smiled.

“Even after all this time, no matter how many years go by, lifetimes we could live in, it will always be you.” You quietly told him. He hummed and kissed the bridge of your nose.

“In this lifetime and the next and even in my dreams. It’s you.” He hushly spoke with a stoic expression. “I used to build dreams about you. You’ve made my life a dream, baby. I’m not sure I’ve woken up since I met you.” He mused and you felt your heart falter.

“I will always find you, T. In each one, I’m meant to be yours.” You cooed, brushing your nose back and forth over his. “I’ve been missing this…” you sighed. “Missing you so much lately. Sometimes I feel like I was missing you before we even met.” You confessed imagining the same warm honey hue his eyes had on 78th street that they did right now.

“You are mine. My baby, my angel, my pretty girl, my everything, my whole world, my forever. You, Y/N are it.” He kept his eyes fixed on you, confirming his sincerity. He was right, you weren’t sure it was possible to be anything but a dream. This was a love you could only dream of.

“Annnndd she’s ours.” You giggled hearing a stir come from a monitor off on your bedside table. You turned the screen towards you and kissed Trent’s nose.

“I’m holding Teddy, relaxxxx.” Trent laughed as you slipped your hands under his t-shirt running your nails over his abs. He was stood holding your little girl as you stood in your laundry room on a mission to find a very specific shirt that Teddy was very clear she needed to wear today. You followed Trent around all day after that dream like morning sex.

“I can’t stop thinking about this morning.” You whispered behind the shell of his ear, pushing your body into his from behind. He rolled his eyes and moved Teddy from his hip to sit on the machine. He turned and grabbed your face rashly and you giggled uncontrollably when he began to nuzzle himself against your neck, nipping at your skin.

“I will take care of you tonight, alright? Don’t I always?” He cooed to you sliding his big hands over the curve of your ass. You hummed.

“Dada me too!” Teddy without fail felt left out. She saw the beaming smile on your face left by her dad and she was jealous. Trent turned around quickly, letting go of you, completely smitten with him, and scooped Teddy up blowing raspberries against her skin sillily.

“T… baby.” You whined, squeezing him as tight as you could, nuzzling your face into his cotton t-shirt under you. You’d been so clingy to Trent and especially after the type of sex you’d been having lately you were practically glued to him.

“Come gimme a kiss, baby.” Trent cooed as you laid in bed that night. He pulled you tight to him with a kiss to your lips first and then he kissed your temple. You wiggled your body into him to be as physically close as possible. You whined his name hiding your face in his neck. “So needy for me, huh? You promise everything’s okay, sweet girl? You’re making me a little nervous. I'm not gonna lie. I mean you’ve been eating fine I thought. You’ve been doing so well with Ted, you and I’ve been fine but it just feels…” he paused, taking a deep breath not sure how to quite articulate how you’ve been acting and why it was giving him a bit of anxiety without upsetting you. Although to be fair, he had every right to be worried after the year and half you’d had with your health.

“I just… I don’t know. You’re right everything is okay I guess. I just feel really needy like you said. Like I just want to be with you all the time and then today I just felt so nauseous all day. I’ve been waking up so fatigued. Ted has so much more energy now as well and all I want to do is just squish her and hold her with me all day and it’s kind of sad she doesn’t want that anymore. She wants to run and play which is amazing and I’m glad she’s happy and goofy but like I’m tired.” You cooed sadly to Trent wallowing in the fact that your baby girl was getting older whether you liked it or not.

“Baby, she does want that. Ted loves a cuddle with her mummy. She just also wants to learn and explore. It’s good that she’s independent and curious. You know if you really asked her she’d always come and give you a big cuddle and in between those times where maybe she just wants to mess about, you always have me. I’m here. I love a cuddle with mummy.” He kissed your lips gently with a hum. “I’m sorry you haven’t been feeling well, baby. I’ll keep my eye on you, alright? Just tell me whenever you need me. I’m always here for you.” He whispered, keeping his lips tight to you ghosting over yours.

“I know. I love you, T. Can you just hold me all night? I don’t want to be apart.” You asked him fairly sadly, feeling a bit pathetic with yourself. He hummed with his eyes closed pulling you tighter into him. “Thank you. Night, baby.” You kissed his bare chest squishing your face into him. He mumbled a ‘night, beautiful’ into your hair.

“Hey, baby, what are you doing awake so early?” Trent grumbled with a raspy voice sitting himself up in bed moving back to lean onto your headboard seeing you sneak out of the bathroom back towards bed. He frowned at you. You were an early riser but it was really fucking early, this was abnormal. He pulled the blankets down for you to get back in. “Good morning, beautiful girl. How we feeling today?” He cooed more gently watching you cautiously and slowly bring your body back onto the mattress. He pulled you back into him, wrapping you in his warm embrace.

“I’ve gotten sick twice this morning already. I didn’t want to wake you. I think I caught a bug or something.” You pouted nuzzling into Trent. “T, I feel horrible. I feel so sick. Every day I feel like I’ve gotten worse this week. I… I just..” You stuttered, getting your words out and started to cry unable to hold back the emotion. “I can’t keep up with her today. I can’t do it. I feel so exhausted I can’t manage her on my own. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m the worst. It’s my only job and I can’t do it” You started crying more and more, feeling horrible, admitting to the fact that taking care of Teddy seemed like it would be an impossible task.

“Beautiful, you’re doing amazing. You’re such an incredible mum. Baby, this is not your only job, you do so much. Also, this is one of the hardest jobs in the world. It is really hard. Please don’t say you’re sorry to me. I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. What can I do?” He spoke gently to you feeling like if he raised his volume even a little above a whisper it would bruise you.

“T… I’m failing.” You croaked out embarrassed by the fear you’d be unable to take care of your daughter today.

“You’re not. Come here, sweetheart. Can you stay in bed for me today? I’ll make Ted breakfast and call my mum. I’ll ask her to take her today. She can handle that very cute bundle of energy. Just take today to rest please. I’ll make sure you’re okay, head to training a little late, and if you need me, even to just get you a tea, you call me and I’ll come right home. If not, then I’ll be home as fast as I can right after training back to my beautiful girl. Hmm?” He cooed and you sighed a sad ‘ok.’ Trent did as he said, he got himself dressed for training, he woke Teddy up, got her changed and downstairs for breakfast, then came knocking at your door a little while later.

“Mummy’s a little sleepy so we have to be quiet, okay?” You could hear Trent whisper to Teddy as they walked into your bedroom. Teddy trailed Trent clinging to his joggers as he carried a water and a cup of tea in his hands for you.

“Baby, how do ya feel?” He spoke softly rubbing his hand over your head after putting the drinks down on your bedside table. You rolled over more onto your side to get a better look at them. You just hummed with a soft smile as Teddy haphazardly climbed up into your bed and squirmed her way into your embrace.

“Mama, morning time. Why still sleepy?” She asked you and you didn’t even have the energy to try to get into your current state so you just kissed her forehead. “Know I lub you most.” She said to you with a dramatic whisper. She was trying hard to whisper the best she knew how but it was more like just speaking more breathy at regular volume.

“I know Ted. Thank you, baby. I love you the most. Mummy’s just a little extra sleepy.” You cooed meekly, kissing her cheek. “You’re going to have such a good day with Nana today though. That’ll be much more fun.” You told her hoping you could convince her that it’d be fun and you knew it would be once she got there. Dianne was amazing with Teddy, of course, but you knew Teddy well enough to know that no matter how fun something like this would be, if there was no mummy or daddy it was going to be a hard sell.

“Want stay with you, tay?” She informed you as anticipated. You gave her a sympathetic grin appreciating how attentive she was to you but you needed her to go to Dianne’s so you mustered all the strength you had to sit up a little in bed. Trent moved quickly to grab Teddy from you and plop her off the bed onto her own two feet. Your weakness and what you assumed to be a run down body was apparent to him.

“No, no, you want to go play and sing and dance, you don’t want to lay with me all day, silly girl. Plus you haven’t gotten to tell Nana all about how well you’ve been taking care of the doggies too, right?” You cooed to her cupping her cheek as she leaned her body goofily onto the bed to stay close to you. She gave you a disappointed nod of the head. Teddy had been taking it upon herself to help out more and more with your two dogs. It was sweet and she was very very proud of herself. It didn’t really relieve any of the actual duties of care from you or Trent but it was cute. “And then when you come home you have to tell me every single fun thing you did with Nana. I want to hear every bit, cute girl.” You smiled at her trying to reinforce the idea that her day would be well worth her going and leaving you.

“Will miss. Mama know I lub, tay?” She told you once more. It was cute. You knew she did but again, getting her to leave you was not an easy task. Frankly, you would have loved to cuddle up with your baby girl all day right now but that is definitely not something she had the attention span for. Your energy levels at the minute couldn’t have been more opposite.

“Okay, baby. I know, I’ll miss you too. Go ahead please. Have fun.” You cooed gently and quietly as you laid back down defeated into your pillow feeling another wave of nausea wash over you again. You had a horrible migraine that not even closing your eyes was making it dark enough for you to feel more at ease. Before Trent went downstairs you scribbled on a post it note in your room and had told him to pack something for Teddy as an aid to get her to be a bit more happy once they got to Diannes.

“Thanks mum for watching her. I told you Y/N thinks she just caught a bug or something. She was up early sick so really appreciate you taking Ted.” Trent spoke to Dianne in the foyer of her house as Teddy clung to his leg in an effort to not let him get to training. He was attempting to drop Teddy off and make it to training on time, to avoid a team fine but Teddy was being stubborn.

“No problem, hun. Everything alright? I haven’t heard that anything is going around.” Dianne brushed her hand over Teddy’s curls but kept her gaze on Trent with a raised brow. Trent gave her a confused look in return not sure what her suspicious face was for. Dianne dropped it though and smiled with a shake of the head. “We’re going to have a fun day, right my Teddy girl? What do you want to do today?” She asked sweetly to Teddy.

“Be with my mama, nana.” Teddy answered her sadly with a signature pout and puppy dog eyes Dianne was now enduring the second generation of. Teddy had inherited Trent’s beautiful face and certainly the same face that had people around them crumbling.

“Oh, I know. Mummy is the best but you’ll see her soon. How about we go play outside, we can watch a movie, we can make you some yummy food.” Dianne paused seeing Teddy’s face unchanged. Nothing she offered her was going to be better than being with you but she’d try one last effort she knew was Teddy’s latest fixation “We can color.” She drew out the word with a smile, squinting her eyes a little seeing Teddy’s face immediately respond to the option.

“Oh I know that look… I think you heard something you like, huh?” Trent cooed, coming to squat down next to Teddy, their faces now level. Teddy loved coloring and she was getting better and better at it. ‘Better’ is subjective but her progress had Trent singing her praises and she was eating it up. It was a nice activity for her and you liked how careful she was with all the markers and supplies you’d get her. She took care of it all and put everything back neatly. Trent said it was bizarre but you loved that she inherited a sense of organization and meticulousness from you. It was adorable. “Did you check in your bag we brought yet? I think there’s something special in there” He asked her as he reached behind him to grab her pink Stoney Clover backpack with her own ‘TAA’ initials on it and bring it towards them. She unzipped it slowly not understanding that this was something to be excited about. But there it was inside, a brand new pack of markers you had gotten for her, you had planned to give her at some point but no time like the present. Trent had stuck the post it note you’d written on to the packaging.

‘Show Nana how well you color, my Teddy bear. I love you so so much. Love mummy xx’

“Wow Teddy! Your mummy must love you so much! I think we should color today then if mummy gave those to you.” Dianne cooed excitedly watching Teddy’s smile grow and grow on her face and her eyes go wide, absolutely gassed about the markers.

“C’mere baby. Let’s read what mummy wrote on this little note for you.” Trent pulled Teddy into him and held the sticky note in front of them and helped her work through the worlds, essentially just Trent reading to her. When they finished, Teddy giggled and hugged the pack of markers to her chest. “Aw baby, you’re so excited. So you have to do what mummy said, yeah? Gonna show Nana how good you are at coloring with your new markers?” Trent cooed before kissing her cheek. Teddy nodded and for the first time since they entered the house took steps away from Trent. They said goodbye and Teddy took off to a little table and chairs for toddlers Dianne had at her house for her. Teddy knew exactly where it was and she couldn’t wait any longer to get there.

Trent drove home after a long fairly thought provoking training session. All day at AXA he couldn’t shake the thought of his mum’s questioning look when he said you were sick. As he was stopped at the traffic light before he entered your neighborhood, the possibility smacked him in the face. He gasped and leant his head back onto the headrest of his seat in the car, eyes wide. Trent puffed out some air and shook his head with a stupid grin. He couldn’t wait to get home.

“Beautiful, can I ask you something and please don’t take it the wrong way.” Trent asked you about an hour after he’d gotten home. He had checked in and made sure you were okay before he began his probe. You hummed not thinking about anything other than how shitty you felt today. “Ermm…” Trent paused, getting a little nervous to ask his question, beginning to second guess himself but he mustered up the courage after he took a deep breath and looked at you. He looked deep in your eyes and he sighed. He knew you. He knew you so well, he couldn’t be wrong. “When was the last time you got your period?” He asked you and you tilted your head confused and then you felt your stomach sink.

“Oh my fucking god…” You gasped and felt your soul just about leave your body. You were not being careful in the slightest in bed but it wasn’t like you’d been actively trying. You were more shocked that you hadn’t thought about this possibility though. You couldn’t help it, you just started balling your eyes out. Your tears felt like they were just endlessly flowing.”I… I… I can’t be. No.” You stuttered out the words. Trent was a little confused because, just as well as he knew you, he could tell these were not tears of joy or excitement, this was fear. Your emotions were all over the map lately and uncontrollable, it should’ve been obvious.

“Baby… Are you okay? C’mere please.” Trent sat down on the bed and pulled you into his embrace. He was holding your body up for you. You were in a completely blanked state. You couldn’t think. “Let’s just take a test alright? Let’s find out. It could just be a bug, I could be wrong. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.” Trent tried to comfort you.

“I can’t know…” You muttered out. You felt the words leave your mouth and you knew that wasn’t possible so you sighed. You squeezed Trent. “Can you come with me?” You looked up at him with teary eyes, water clumping in your eyelashes. Your bottom lip rolled into a quivering pout.

“Yeah, baby, of course. I’ll be there the whole time.” Trent cooed and helped you up from the bed. You had a few extra pregnancy tests in the cupboard of the bathroom stashed away for a situation like this but you kind of thought you’d be more prepared to take them when the time came. Trent got one out for you and handed it to you. When you took it he grabbed your hand and pulled it to him. He kissed your hand. “Whatever, absolutely whatever any test says. I love you and you will be okay.”

“Can you turn around?” You mumbled out embarrassed. Trent gave you a cheeky smirk silently saying ‘really, baby… I’ve seen you in labor. I don’t think you peeing is going to be all that big of a deal.’ It lightened your stone heart momentarily but when he did what you asked and turned around, you lost eye contact with his support and your heart hardened again. The thing was it’s not that you were massively opposed to another baby, it just was so overwhelming. There were a lot of factors at play. You were so stressed by how you would manage two babies so little when Trent had to be away for football. Today you couldn’t even get out of bed. What would happen if you had two babies and he was out of the country? Another reason, god, what if a postpartum depression came back worse this time around. Last time you were borderline suicidal.

“T, baby, I can’t… I’m sorry I’m so scared.” Tears began to fill your lash line again you stood up and Trent turned around. You placed the cap back onto the test and hugged Trent. In a backwards way his comfort triggered your tears to begin to fall again more rapidly.

“My beautiful girl, put this here.” He grabbed the test and put it on your sink counter. “You, my amazing wife, Teddy’s amazing mummy, you come with me. I got the timer. All you need to do is come and give me the best cuddle you’ve ever given me in your whole life, okay?” He moved you to come lay on top of your bed and pulled you into his embrace. He held you securely but gently whispering ‘I love you’ on repeat again and again quietly into your hair. After the alotted 5 minutes or so the sound of the alarm blaring from Trent's phone made you jump, wince, and your heart stop all at once. You were about to find out if you’d be a family of 4 and you also felt like you were about to be sick..

“Can you look? Sorry I’m being such a… I don't know I’m such a mess. I’m sorry baby.” You mumbled into his cotton t-shirt that you had now soaked with your tears.

“Baby shhh. Shhh, okay? You stay right here. I will go get it. Just you stay here and be my beautiful dream girl.” Trent let go of you and you felt like you could cry more just losing his comforting hold momentarily. He picked up the test in the ensuite and stifled his gasp. His smile was massive but he shook it off his face and looked down at a very clear positive pregnancy test. He came back into the room and he had a smile you usually hated to see one that was sympathetic and a little sad. “Y/N…” He whispered, stroking his hand over your head. “You’re pregnant. It says we’re pregnant. It’s positive, baby.” As the words rolled off his tongue Trent couldn’t suppress the smile he really felt. He was beaming, ecstatic but as you heard the words fall out his mouth you felt sick.

“Oh…” You sighed with disappointment in your voice. “Oh my god. Look how happy you are. I should be. I’m the worst fucking mum in the world. Fuck. I’m so sorry.” You looked up at Trent with swollen red eyes from all your tears. “T…How did you know?” You croaked out curious what made him think of this when you hadn’t. You felt so stupid honesty. How could you not see it. You were beating yourself up internally.

“Don’t know, baby. Just instinct. I think I know you pretty well.” He laughed shyly, running his hand behind his neck. “You were so cuddly and getting sick and It just felt like last time a little bit and baby… we…” Trent started to laugh with a gentle smile coming to give you a cuddle. “We fuck a lot.” He continued his laugh. You couldn’t help but at least crack a small smile.

“I guess better than I know myself.” You sighed realizing that Trent probably did know you better than you knew yourself. “T… it’s just… I just got my body back to a place I wasn't grossed out by.” You whimpered pushing your face into his chest upset by the idea of going through the lovely bodily changes of pregnancy again. You’d been working so hard in the gym to get fit and with your care team to get healthy.

“Baby, we’ll do whatever you need.” Trent unexpectedly told you. He was calm with his words but the sentiment was kind of insane. You wouldn’t dream of not having this baby because of something so selfish like appearance. Trent didn’t see it as selfish he saw it as your mental wellbeing. But you thought you wanted babies with Trent, plural.

“T, stop.. it’s not just my decision.” You lashed out at him pulling yourself off him in a flustered state. You felt your tears fill your eyes again. You pulled your legs up onto the bed and wrapped your arms around them, pulling your knees tight to your chest.

“I know, I know but baby we’re going to do what’s best for you though.” Trent sighed, rubbing his hand over your smooth leg. He meant it. He did. He wanted to do what was best for you but the thought of getting pregnant and then deciding not to go through with it made him a little sick.

“I need a minute alone.” You snapped standing up prioritizing your own feelings, unable to look at him. You knew the expression you could imagine was on his face would be heartbreaking. It was a really emotionally conflicting thing. He tried to call out to you but knew better and just let you go. You locked the door of the en suite and slid down the back of it, seating yourself on the floor. You cried and cried raking your brain if you were ready for this. Were you an okay mum? Would you be disappointing Trent if you decided not to have another baby? Would you be doing a disservice to this unborn baby by having him or her? You were terrified of falling back into a depressive state but as you rested your forehead onto your knees in front of you, you clocked a tiny silver frame on the marble countertop above you out of the corner of your eye. You sighed seeing matching toothy grins of the two people you loved more than anything in the world. More than yourself. You could almost hear the photo of Trent telling Teddy to say cheese. Her babbling out her attempt, something like a ‘cheebs.’ You kept crying but not because you were questioning yourself, or your abilities but because of how in love you were with being a mum, having this family. Your family was everything to you, the three of you and now the possibility of a fourth didn’t sound so bad. Another cute voice learning to ‘cheese’ in photos with the best husband and dad in the world, the love of your life didn’t sound so bad. It took you a bit of time but you eventually pulled it together.

“T…” you whispered coming back into the bedroom. You sighed and ran your hands over your face feeling guilty inspecting Trent’s body language. He was more upset than you anticipated. He wasn’t pouting intentionally, he just really wanted this. This was the best news ever for him but he was trying to talk himself down and to the fact you might want to get rid of the pregnancy. “I want this…” you cooed hugging him from behind as he laid curled up on the bed.

“C’mere, baby.” You could audibly hear him let out a deep breath. He turned to face you and pulled you tight into an embrace, tucking your head under his chin. “If you…” he began to talk.

“I want this, okay? This baby… I do.” You interrupted him, stopping what he was going to tell you, clarifying that you were certain about this.

“If it’s not the right time for us or it’s too much.” Trent was persistent with his thoughts. He kissed your head trying to tell you that no matter what he’d be there but it was breaking his heart and you could hear it in his voice.

“Stop… I really do.” You pulled your head out from against him to look him in the eyes. You were serious. You wouldn’t change your mind. You wanted a second baby.

“Yeah? You’re sure you can? You can’t do this for me.” He haphazardly got the words out not sure how to express what he was feeling. The last thing Trent wanted to do was put pressure on you.

“It’s not for you. It’s for us.” You hummed with a soft smile. Your lips began to curl more and more. Both you and Trent could feel the tension in the room evaporating. He gave you a questioning look silently so you spoke again. “I always thought we’d have like multiple kids. I don’t know. Right? Wasn’t that what we wanted?” You giggled a little trying to recall the exact plans or discussions you had had in the past. It all felt a little blurry thought. “Like not in a weird way but don’t you think it’d be silly for us to not at least try for a boy.” You smiled at him imagining a little boy.

“I think it’ll be another girl but I get your sentiment. C’mere, baby. I love you so much.” Trent cupped your face and gently pulled you into a kiss that felt like heaven. It felt like relief. You smiled into it, starting to laugh imagining another baby in the house. “Let’s have Ted sleep at my mum’s. Just need to be with my favorite girl tonight.” Trent cooed and although you wanted to correct him with a tease telling him you knew Teddy had replaced you as favorite you just hummed. “Baby… I’m really really happy. I love being a dad. I love our family.” Trent whispered into your hair kissing your head a few times.

“You’re the best daddy. Just the best, baby. It looks good on you too.” You giggled a little more picturing how good he looked carrying Teddy around, you assumed a second would only double the attraction. You were only able to kiss at his neck from your close proximity and his hold of you, limiting any movement. “T… I’m a little scared though.” You got out the obvious fear you were harboring after a couple quiet minutes embraced in a hug.

“I know, beautiful. You can be scared but you got me the whole way. You’re so strong. You can do this.” Trent tried to put you at ease with encouragement.

“Are you excited?” You meekly and sheepishly asked him, trying to divert from a more serious conversation and confessional about your fears. You could guess the answer but you wanted to hear him say it.

“I am gassed right now, seriously? Creating a life with you, having a family? It’s an absolute dream.” Trent looked at you confused with a furrowed brow. How could you not know that he thought that.

“You’re such a good daddy.” You sighed hugging him. You breathed him in. His scent wrapped around you, calming all your fears by just simply being there with you.

“Think I do okay?” He asked you with a bit of smugness in his tone. You smiled with your face still hidden pressed against his neck. You loved Trent’s cheek.

“Yeah, really the best. Ted… and I guess this little baby here are so lucky.” You cooed, moving your hand to your still flat stomach. Trent let his eyes flutter closed and moved his hand to lay over top of yours. He kissed your forehead as a silent ‘thank you.’ He could never properly thank you for giving him a family of his dreams but you were just the same. There were no words.

Trent was fucking beaming when he picked up Teddy from Dianne’s the next day. Call it a mother’s intuition but Dianne knew something was up. She easily put two and two together but bit her tongue letting you two have your privacy. You had called your doctors and made the appointment to find out for real how far along you might’ve been. Like Trent said, you had sex a lot you had no idea when this could’ve happened.

“I missed you baby bear. You had so much fun with Nana huh?” Trent cooed to Teddy looking through his rearview mirror back to her tucked in her carseat in his big car.

“Told dada.” She quipped fairly sassily. Teddy inheriting Trent’s own personality traits was biting him in the ass. His eyes widened.

“Well, I know but I’m just asking sheesh, Ted. Are you going to give Mama your pretty drawing when we get back home? She’ll be so happy to see you. I know she’ll love it” Trent continued on. When Dianne had handed over all of Teddy’s things from her impromptu sleepover to Trent she had to make sure, per Teddy’s instructions, that her artwork she’d made was kept nice and safe because it had to get to it’s recipient, you, safely. You had a museum full of Teddy drawings, each one priceless… to you. Likes squiggles on a paper to a stranger.

“Yeah huh, for my mama.” She mumbled getting distracted fixating on the little tray of her car seat filled with cheerios just moving them around. She had complained that she was hungry and couldn’t wait till she got home but evidently not enough to eat said cereal. Trent winced every time he heard Teddy crumble one up littering his car with crumbs. Anyone else… he’d be fuming.

“We’re gonna stop at the shop first, okays?” Trent told Teddy. She just gave him a ‘tay’ as expected. Trent parked his car in your local town shopping center ahead of getting back home because he wanted to get you some flowers. He held Teddy’s hand as they fumbled around the florist letting her decide the color of flowers. He knew chrysanthemums weren’t your favorite flower but Teddy was adamant that you would like the pink color which she was sort of right. In her defense, she did have the experience Trent did. She hadn’t been buying you flowers just about every month for the past 5 plus years.

“You know what, Ted? You get mummy the pink flowers, okay? And dada will get her white ones.” Trent decided two bouquets would work then, one from your babies, Teddy and your new addition, and one from your baby, Trent.

“Tay, mama like pink doe.” Teddy stayed set on the fact that you’d want the pink and Trent was wrong. It was a battle of two of the same people. Neither would concede but Trent realized he was in his mid twenties and Teddy hadn’t even hit three, so he compromised despite a tinge of confidence that he knew you liked the bouquets he usually got for you, luxurious, lavish, chic. Teddy did have the advantage of her handing over her pink cute flowers with chubby cheeks raised in a smile indented with dimples. To be fair though Trent had those dimples too. As they left the shop walking to the car two excited young men stopped them asking for a selfie with Trent. Trent was hesitant, shy, and protective of Teddy, moving his hand to her back pushing her to him but of course he obliged. “Yeah, no worries mate.” Trent ushered the kids away from him after they got the photo as Teddy stood wrapped around his leg swinging her tiny body back and forth impatiently.

“Dada, how come piture?” Teddy asked inquisitively, confused why people were stopping her daddy in the car park.

“Erm… they just know daddy from footie.” Trent answered her as simply as possible. She gave him a ponderous ‘oh’ and then went quiet as he put her into her car seat.

“Why?” Teddy pipped up again, still pressed about what just happened. You had officially entered the ‘why’ stage of toddlerhood.

“You know when you watch daddy at Anfield or when you and mummy watch the matches on the telly?” Trent cooed gently pushing a fallen curl behind her ear. “They like the way daddy plays the game so they watch dada on tv too.” Trent further elaborated for her.

“Ohs cause my dada bests.” She adorably tacked on to his explanation. Trent hummed in agreement with a soft smile. “But, dada…” Teddy cooed, continuing her thought looking to Trent who was getting into the drivers side. “Mine and mama’s, tay?” She spoke up, wanting to just cement and confirm that those guys could appreciate Trent and take a photo but Trent was in fact hers.

“Yeah, course. Only yours, baby bear.” Trent smiled back at her, kissing his hand and pressing it to her little legs dangling in her seat. He liked her possessiveness over him. “Let's go give mama her flowers and your drawing.” he cooed with a smile and a wink back in the mirror to her.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 29 xx

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #taa66 #oursfic #trent alexander arnold smut

128 notes · View notes

crazychaoticizzy · 5 months ago

Text

Write Me Letters

You never expected to find someone that you could correspond with romantically. You never thought the poetic letters you wrote for a living would ever be exchanged with someone you were interested. Though, maybe Armin could be that person.

NOW PLAYING: “Write Me Letters” | Hot Freaks

ARMIN X READER

CONTENT: 20th century time period, Violet Evergarden and Divine Rivals inspired, fluff, war mentions, meet cute (i think?)

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

a/n: this was originally written for @kentopedia love through the ages valentine’s day event. uhm. let’s please ignore that this is a bajillion months later and also rylie if you don’t want to add this to the masterlist please do not feel obligated to i know this is so fucking late i’m sorry 😭

masterlist

AOT masterlist

You wrote for people who couldn’t.

It was your job. You worked for a company that sent literate writers wherever the customer wished and drafted manuscripts or wrote letters or transcribed trials. Anything the customer wanted, you travelled to write.

The most common was love letters. Any kind of letter, really, but you got assigned to write out confessions the most often.

At first you were elated. You loved doing this. You had dreamed to be a romance novelist once, but that dream was quickly squashed once you had been put to work in a publishing firm when you were sixteen. You had hoped it would give you an in to publish your novel, but your manuscript was rejected and burned by your boss right in front of you, and your pay was reduced by five cents.

You had no idea why, but you had a feeling it was because you were a girl writing trivial nonsense no one wants to read about.

You were the first to be cut from the payroll when the factory went bankrupt.

You’d lost your job and were nearly kicked out of the flat you lived in with three other people. You had tried cross dressing to see if you could raise your chances at getting another one, but your hair had fallen out of the hat you’d worn and you had done nothing but embarrassed yourself.

That was before an old friend of yours proposed an offer. Mikasa Ackerman, the distant cousin of a rather wealthy man with enough money to her immediate family to make it by with many luxuries. You’d met her one day in the late hours of the night on your way home. She had been canoodling with one of your dirt poor coworkers, and for you to keep it a secret she offered you anything you wanted. Of course, you asked for enough money to keep you comfortable for a month or two, and oddly enough the two of you became friends.

And then, in your time of need, she offered you a job. She’d shown up at your door one day with a wrapped box tied with a bow and invited you out. You accepted and the two of you walked to the park.

Once you had sat on a bench, she gave you the box. You carefully ripped at the seams to open it, feeling Mikasa’s dark eyes follow your every move.

After lifting the lid, your mouth fell agape, and you looked up at Mikasa.

The typewriter was beautiful. The mahogany wood was smooth beneath your palms and the metal keys were cold against your fingertips. It was a rather large, heavy thing, which gave you true insight into how strong Mikasa truly was.

“What’s this?” you had asked.

Mikasa smiled. “A typewriter, silly.”

“Well, yes. But why?”

Mikasa straightened (if that were even possible. Her back was always straight as a board) and folded her hands over her lap. “My mother is starting a business. She believes it would be nice if those that didn’t know how to write could send letters to those they care about. Even more, she has a friend that has recently become disabled, so they can no longer write. My mother would like to create a community willing to do that for those who can’t.”

You nod. You had heard about that friend MIkasa was talking about in the paper—an older woman who had lost her arm in a power loom, or something of the sort. You had seen the headline the other day and turned away, not wanting to know more.

“Anyhow,” Mikasa continued, “I thought you might like to work with us, since you don’t have a job.”

Something about the way she said that sent a pang to your heart. You should have expected it. Not only was it true, but Mikasa was always rather blunt.

You thought it over for a moment. What was the worst that could happen? You certainly wouldn’t lose any apendages or fingers, and surely you would make decent pay, right?

You nodded firmly at Mikasa. “Alright. I’ll take the job.”

Mikasa’s lips stretched into a soft, ladylike smile. “Wonderful.”

—

It was essentially your dream job. You got to dress in your finer clothes daily and write love letters and confessions. You couldn’t have asked for anything better.

But after years of sitting at a desk, it got tiring. Especially after the war.

It turns out the company wasn’t lying when they said their dolls went anywhere the customer wanted. Not to mention that after writing responses to the soldiers that were drafted got depressing fast. There was so much talk about unlikely futures and dreams that would never come true. It broke your heart, because you knew from your coworkers on the field that the receiver of the messages had already passed.

You were lucky enough to not have been sent. Lord knows how you would have ended up if you needed to travel to the front lines just to write. You’re sure you would have taken your own life before anyone else was given the chance.

But now that the war was over, you were tired. You were bored. Tired of writing letters for other people and bored of writing the same things over and over.

I miss you. Please come home safe. I imagine we…

And maybe some secret part of you wished you could put your own skills to use and write your own love letters to someone you admired. That was a desire you held deep down. You wanted to have a lover. You wanted to exchange letters with him and smile giddily whenever you receive a new one.

For once, you wanted to write for yourself.

But your workplace was mostly women. The only men that were consistently there were either married, entirely too old for you, or completely uninterested in even talking to you.

Until one day, a very slow and drab one, Mikasa strolled into the main building with a blond boy following behind her. You watched from your cubicle as the two of them went into Mrs. Ackerman’s office, trying to see if you could get an idea of why they were there for through the crack left in the door.

They both emerged a few moments later, and Mikasa led him into another room—the one that letters were stored in to be delivered at a later date. Mikasa came back out alone.

“Who was that?” you asked as she passed your desk. Mikasa paused, lifting her hands to crack her knuckles as she talked.

“Armin Arlert. He’s the new mail boy,” she explained, switching hands. “Mom says we need someone else since Eren’s getting overwhelmed by himself.”

You softly nod. Mikasa stays for a few seconds before she walks off. You look back down at your typewriter, flipping through a few requests until you found a letter you wanted to write.

Your phone rang just a few moments later. You picked it up and said in the kindest voice you had, “Good afternoon. You’ve reached the Shiganshina Letter Company. How might I assist you today?”

The old woman on the line spoke slowly. You hummed and nodded along to what she said as if she could see you. She was in a wheelchair confined to her house, so she couldn’t travel to the building. She requested your presence and, as stated in the company policy, you began packing up what you would need.

You stored your typewriter in its box and stowed blank sheets of paper in the pocket on the side. You lifted it from your desk, a feat that had become easier the more you lifted it and got used to the weight, and made your way out of the building.

—

She was a sweet old woman. Her graying hair was pulled into a ponytail at the base of your neck and when she let you in the first thing she offered was brownies and a glass of milk. You politely declined the brownies and milk, but when she offered a drink of water you felt it necessary to accept.

The letter she wanted wasn’t a love letter. At least, not a traditional or stereotypical one like you would think. She wanted you to write to her granddaughter, whose mother had recently passed away. You sat with her at the table and wrote, wiping your eyes with the corner of your sleeve as you pulled the paper out of the typewriter.

You handed it to the woman to read over, and were overjoyed when her eyes became teary and she sniffed. It always made you happy when what you wrote could evoke such emotion.

She held her arm open, offering a hug. You leaned over, careful not to lose your balance, and wrapped your arms around her softly. She asked if you could deliver, which you said yes to.

And now, back at the company building, you’re walking around the delivery room trying to find the correlating street address. You didn’t go into that room often, as Eren was always there to take letters that needed to be delivered, but Eren was off by that point. You were alone.

That’s what you hoped, at least, until someone came up behind you and said, “Can I help you?”

You startled, not expecting someone to be in the delivery room. When you turned you saw the blond boy Mikasa had brought in earlier, Armin.

“Oh, apologies. I didn’t mean to impose.”

Armin shook his head. “No, it’s alright. My shift is over, technically, so you aren’t imposing on anything.”

You softly nodded, a gentle smile gracing your lips. You remembered the letter in your hand and held it out to him. “Carnela Street?”

Armin took the envelope from your hand, reading over the address. “Oh, over here.” He tilted his head back up to meet your gaze and tilted his head for you to follow. “The system’s organized alphabetically by rows. A through D is that first one when you walk in.”

You nodded along, not quite understanding what he meant until he showed you. You made an O shape with your mouth when you realized, feeling a bit stupid at not being able to figure that out yourself.

You watch as Armin scans through the files until he reaches a drawer labeled Carnela-Draise and opened it. He dropped the paper in before closing it.

An awkward silence enveloped the two of you until you couldn’t take it anymore and gave him a sweet smile. You excused yourself and, cheeks heated and palms sweaty, turned around to walk out of the delivery room. You packed up your typewriter when you reached your desk and saw Armin again on your way out, where he gave you a small smile and soft wave.

You gave a curt nod in return before walking out of the building.

—

The first letter appeared on your desk a week later.

You thought it was nothing more than a request for you to draft something, but the scraggly writing on the front that spelled out your name told you otherwise.

You set it to the side and forgot about it until you returned to your dinghy apartment. It was small and fit no more than a twin bed and desk, but you had made well enough friends with the neighbors and oftentimes found yourself yearning for the comfort of the small room. At least it wasn’t crowded with other people, as you knew so many others were. That was one luxury you were grateful for.

You had placed your typewriter case on your desk and opened it. The corner of the letter poked out from the bottom, and you managed to wedge it out from beneath the heavy machine without having to lift it out of the case.

You opened it with your letter opener, a birthday gift Mikasa had given you when you first started working for her. It was made of fake gold and the handle had your full name and a rose carved into it. Honestly, you could have pawned it or sold it to some unsuspecting person for hundreds, but the fact that Mikasa had bought it specifically with you in mind made you keep it.

The letter was simple. Short and to the point the way you liked. You suspected that the writer must have asked someone about it.

While you enjoyed writing the flowery and poetic language you did, you never liked receiving it. You always doubted and found the double meanings that weren’t there. It was a misunderstanding waiting to happen.

I’ve found that your beauty has captured my attention. I shall like to get to know you. Might I take you out for dinner?

That’s what it said. It was signed with two curly A’s, and you wondered for a moment who it was from.

Armin, maybe? Though the written language seemed too refined to belong to him. He’d spoken to you rather casually during your last interaction, so it couldn’t possibly be him.

The next day when you walked into the office, you noticed Armin stepping into your cubicle with a square of paper. You stood by for a moment until he emerged, the piece of paper now gone. He turned his head toward the entrance and simply gave you a smile before sticking his hands in his pockets and walking across the aisle into the delivery room.

This time, you opened the letter immediately. You used your nail to pry up a corner and peeled apart the rest, leaving a jagged tear in the pristine paper.

We haven’t been properly introduced. I suppose I should have started with that. Please forgive me for being ungentlemanly and asking you out before even hearing your name from yourself.

The signature at the bottom confirmed the conclusion you drew the night before. The curved writing spelled out Armin Arlert. You found yourself leaning over your desk in an attempt to catch a glance at him in the delivery room, but he wasn’t there.

You grabbed a spare sheet of paper. You considered feeding it into your typewriter, but something drew you to pick up a pen and ink to write it out instead. It seemed more personal that way.

It was rather improper for you not to introduce yourself first. I’m sure Mikasa has told you my name, correct? No matter, I accept your invitation all the same.

You signed it with your name and folded it into threes. You quickly wrote his name on the front and walked across the way to the delivery room. You left it on a desk and walked out before anyone could spot you.

—

It was an odd correspondence. Neither of you spoke to each other, likely too nervous to stumble across your words or stutter out sentences you didn’t mean, but you wrote letters. They were lovely, well poised and written with increasingly beautiful prose. You were falling before you knew what was happening, and you found yourself pushing down a smile any time there was a new square of paper in your cubicle.

It took a while to set up the date Armin had asked you on. Tiptoeing around the subject and your unpredictable schedules didn’t come together well. Some days you were called to travel hours out of town, which always threw a wrench in your plans.

But you finally found a day. It was a Tuesday afternoon, the air crisp with the chill of fall and the leaves drifting in the breeze with vibrant colors.

He’d invited you to a small cafe. It was a narrow building, seemingly wedged into the extra space between two others, but the table you chose to wait at outside was nice. You sat with your hands folded in your lap, looking out at the street.

Armin approached you from your peripheral. You turned your head, softly smiling when you recognized his slightly tousled hair and blue eyes. He returned your smile, holding out a small bouquet of wildflowers to you.

“Good afternoon, Miss L/n,” he said as you took the flowers. He sat across from you, leaning forward against the table.

“Y/n is fine,” you said, your voice soft. The habits your mother drilled into your head as a child returned. Speak softly and sit with your legs crossed.

You glanced around, noticing the absence of a third presence. “No chaperone?” you teased.

Armin’s lips tilted up, and he let out an amused breath. “I was under the assumption that you would bring one. I can find one, if you’d like.”

You shook your head. “No. No, it’s alright. I’d rather not have one. It would make this more natural.”

You gave him a soft smile. Before you knew it, you were slipping into conversation with him like he was an old friend. Like he was your lover.

It was easy. Talking to him felt as natural as breathing. You didn’t have to force laugher or interest or smiles, it all just happened with him. You’ve never felt more relieved or energized in your life.

When the sun had gone down and the only thing lighting the street was the dim lights and you and Armin were the only ones on the sidewalk, he gently took you by the hand and stood up.

“Allow me to walk you home.” He smiled at you, running his thumb across your knuckles. “It’s late. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Alright. Although I warn you, I do live quite far.” You took his arm when he offered it, looping yours through his as you began walking.

“That just gives me more time to talk to you.”

“We’ve already burned through half the day talking. Don’t you tire of me?” You turned your head to him, quirking a brow and tilting your head slightly.

“I don’t believe I could ever tire of a voice as beautiful as yours.” Armin met your gaze. His eyes were clearer than a cloudless sky, the reflection of the stars shining in them. “Or a beauty as ethereal as yours.”

Your cheeks heated. You smiled and gave a flirty laugh, your hold on his arm becoming slightly firmer. “You flatter me.”

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true.” He smiled sweetly at you. “I could talk to you for hours.”

You quietly hummed, averting your gaze to instead look down at the ground. Stray weeds grew between the cracks in the concrete. Despite the city’s rigorous upkeep, bright dandelions always managed to peek through.

A moment of silence passed between the two of you. In that short time, you replayed the day in your head. You noticed that Armin spoke more . . . refined. He talked to you with a voice more becoming of a rich man, one that contrasted the casual tone he used with you at the office.

“Is there a reason you’re speaking differently?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, that day I entered the delivery room your language was more casual,” you explained, still looking down at the ground. “Now, however, you’re speaking more refined. There’s a poetic way to the way you’re talking, almost.”

Armin looked down at the ground with you. Even if you weren’t meeting his eyes anyway, he wasn’t going to take any chances of his gaze catching yours.

“You noticed?” His tone was teasing, and you let out an amused hum. “If you were talking to a pretty girl, you’d want to impress her, wouldn’t you? Especially if she’s clearly more educated and well read than you are.”

You smiled again at the indirect compliments. An odd flutter in your stomach alarmed you. You had been complimented before—why were his sending your mind spiraling with delusional images of a life with him?

“Thank you, though I assure you that I am not as sophisticated as you’ve made me out to be,” you said. You were no longer looking down at the ground, but you still didn’t turn to look at him.

“Are you not aware of the letters you write? The linguistic dialogue you use in them is beautiful.”

You finally turned to look at him, your eyes widened and your palms beginning to sweat.

“You’ve read my letters?” you wondered.

“Only one or two,” Armin replied. He lifted his head and met your gaze, a faint smile painted across his lips. “Mikasa’s shown me a few. She says she wished her lover sent her letters like those instead of one of her closest friends.”

You laugh, although you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re amused by what Mikasa said or because you now have the knowledge that he’s read what you’ve written.

Armin moved to keep walking, but the gradual stop in your steps made him falter. He looked at you curiously for a moment before realizing that you had stopped in front of your building.

“Well, thank you. Again, that is.” You tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, glancing away again. “I was always told in school that my writing was too flowery and confusing.”

“I think that’s the best part of it.” Armin smiled, stepping closer to you in the dim light of the street. “If you write it well to someone you know will understand it, then the recipient won’t misinterpret it. That’s the beauty of finding someone like you, don’t you think?”

You blinked at him, turning his words over in your head, before your lips stretched into a smile. You had never thought of it that way, but Armin’s insight only made you want to find that special someone even more.

“I suppose that’s true.” You look up at your building, realizing that you didn’t want to part with the blond quite yet. “Say, would you mind walking me to my apartment?”

You watched Armin’s eyes light up. The faint smile that seemed to have been permanently etched onto his face widened, and he nodded. “I would be honored.”

You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy in a single day. You’ve smiled more times than you were able to count talking to him alone and your cheeks were beginning to become sore.

You motioned for him to follow you. You gently pushed open the door and began the ascent to your floor with him.

You weren’t sure if it was an appropriate topic of conversation, considering the two of you had only met recently and didn’t know a great deal about each other, but you began speaking about soulmates. You said that if written language could act as a crafted secret between one and their beloved, then surely soulmates could be made.

Armin agreed with you, though he added his belief that there was a higher being that manipulated paths and made certain people come across each other at the right times. Maybe soulmates could be made, but there was still that line of fate.

Although you didn’t believe in fate or destiny, you hoped that whatever was out there had written a story for you where he was yours.

When you reached your apartment door, you slowly slid your key into the lock, hoping to postpone the inevitable moment where you would have to leave him and walk into your room. You placed a reluctant hand on the doorknob, running your thumb across it before looking up at him.

“Thank you.” It seemed as though that was all you were doing. “For walking up here, but also for the day.”

Armin flashed you a smile, bowing his head. “It was my pleasure. I quite enjoyed today and hope that you will accept my invitation for another like it?”

You hummed, feigning thought. “Will there be a chaperone next time?”

Armin chuckled. “Only if you want one.”

“I suppose I might entertain the idea, then,” you teased. You regretfully turned the handle and opened your door, wishing that you could invite him in. “Goodnight, Armin.”

When Armin gave you the last smile of the night, you found yourself wanting to kiss him. You wanted to brush your lips against his and taste the sunshine he radiated. You wanted to hold him close and thread your fingers through his hair.

Armin turned to walk away, but the soft call of his name stopped him.

He turned to look at you. “Yes?”

You ran your thumb across the doorknob again, searching your mind for the words. “You don’t need to talk fancy to win my favor. I’d rather get to know you.”

It’s clear that you caught him off guard, but that faint, ever present smile never diminished.

He nodded. “Good night, Y/n.”

You returned the nod, stepping into your apartment and clicking the door behind you.

You pressed your ear against the wood, listening to the sound of his fading footsteps as he retreated. When you could no longer hear him, you peeled yourself away from the door and dropped onto your bed, staring up at your ceiling with a star struck gaze.

Maybe flowery writing wasn’t all that bad.

please ignore that the writing style changed like halfway through i don’t know why that happened

anyways this is basically the start of my come back to writing because uhm. i kind of took a long unannounced hiatus from it BUT that’s besides the point ✨

i’m also scared i lost my writing sparkle please tell me if this was normal for me (if that makes sense) because i need validation

anyways hope y’all have a good day/night and that your pillow is always cool on both sides love y’all <3

🏷️ @arlerts-angel @ocean-armin if you’d like be notified any time i write for Armin leave a comment or DM me!

49 notes · View notes