#like blurbs really not even full articles

[the-jackalope-coffee-co]

my internship is gonna make my hair fall out from stress, I just know it

[p0orbaby]

Blurb idea - reader is super stressed with work. One day she comes home tense/stressed & Leah gives her a romantic massage

-

The moment you step through the door, it hits Leah like a freight train. Stress clings to you, palpable, a thick haze of tension that seems to emanate from the stiff set of your shoulders and the way your jaw is clenched so tightly it’s a wonder your molars haven’t shattered. You toss your bag onto the kitchen counter without a second glance, missing the coaster she’d strategically placed there just this morning. It skids across the surface, narrowly missing the fruit bowl, which is full but somehow devoid of any fruit you actually like.

“Rough day?” Leah asks, leaning against the doorframe with the casual grace of someone who’s spent the last twenty minutes Googling “how to help a stressed spouse” on her phone. She’s wearing an oversized Arsenal hoodie that used to be yours and joggers with one suspiciously fraying drawstring. It’s her unofficial uniform for “solving domestic crises”

You let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh and run a hand through your hair, which is starting to resemble the kind of frizz you only get when you forget your heat protectant spray. “You could say that”

Leah straightens, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward you. Her socked feet make soft padding sounds against the floor, a detail that somehow grates on your frayed nerves. She places a hand on your shoulder, fingers warm and steady despite the fact that she was holding a Diet Coke can just minutes ago.

“Alright,” she says, voice calm but laced with that signature Leah determination. “Take your shoes off”

“What?” You blink at her, confused, as if she’s just told you to recite the periodic table backwards.

“Your shoes,” she repeats, pointing at your scuffed loafers, the ones you bought because some article convinced you they were ‘business chic.’ “Take them off, and then go upstairs. You’re getting a massage”

“A massage?”

“Yes. A massage. You’ve been walking around like a tension-riddled cryptid for weeks. It’s time”

You open your mouth to argue, but she raises a hand, silencing you with a look that suggests this is non-negotiable. Reluctantly, you kick off your shoes, muttering something about how you’re fine, really, but Leah’s already halfway up the stairs, gesturing for you to follow like some kind of benevolent dictator.

By the time you reach the bedroom, she’s already in full preparation mode. The bedside lamp is on, casting a soft amber glow over the room, and there’s a bottle of massage oil sitting on the nightstand. It’s fancy, of course—something organic and almond-scented that she’d ordered from a wellness boutique you’d initially mocked but now begrudgingly appreciate.

“Lie down,” she commands, patting the duvet like a drill sergeant who’s somehow found themselves in a spa.

You oblige, face-down, the mattress cool against your skin. The duvet smells faintly of the lavender fabric softener Leah insists on using, despite your protests that it’s too floral.

She straddles your lower back with the practised ease of someone who has definitely watched at least two YouTube tutorials on this. Her hands glide over your shoulders, firm but gentle, and the first press of her thumbs against the knots there has you letting out a sound so indecent you’re briefly concerned the neighbours might hear.

“See?” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing. “Told you you needed this”

“You’re annoying,” you mumble into the pillow, but the words lack bite, especially when she kneads a particularly stubborn knot near your shoulder blade.

She works in silence for a while, her fingers tracing lines of tension you hadn’t even realised were there. The room is quiet save for the occasional creak of the bedframe and the faint, rhythmic sound of her breathing. It’s a kind of intimacy you can’t quite put into words, the way her hands seem to know your body better than you do, seeking out every point of stress like she’s memorised a map of you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks eventually, her voice soft but not pushy.

“Not really,” you admit, and she hums in understanding, her hands never faltering.

By the time she’s finished, you feel like a different person—less like a ball of stress masquerading as a human and more like someone who might actually be capable of enjoying life again.

She climbs off you, stretching her arms over her head like she’s just run a marathon. “Well?”

You roll onto your back, blinking up at her. “You missed your calling as a masseuse”

She grins, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Nah. I’d much rather save my talents for you”

[something-tofightfor]

Locked Down Part 22: The Decision

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Word Count: 10,921

Rating: There's nothing graphic, but we'll go with M because I mention a couple things briefly.

Summary: Being home for the holidays for the first time since the pandemic began is a definite change for you. While Dieter can't be there for Thanksgiving, the promise of his Christmas arrival means that it's time to begin publicly appearing together. It's definitely something that you want, but that doesn't mean it's easy.

Along with navigating an official relationship with Dieter, there's also plenty of other life - and career - choices to consider.  

Author’s note:

Two full years later, here's another chapter. Is anyone still interested? Was anyone waiting to find out what happens next for these two? I hope so. This chapter has been halfway done for about a year, I just got super sidetracked... but not anymore.

I've missed writing for Dieter, so it was nice to get back to this story.

Catch up on the other parts here: Locked Down Masterlist

Settling into life in Georgia after getting back from Vancouver was more difficult than you thought it would be. Your flight was smooth, and your apartment was just as you’d left it, but from the moment you landed, you felt like you were on the go. 

You scheduled your meeting with Carmen for the Monday after the holiday, which meant that you had plenty of time to prepare yourself for it. In the email confirmation, she included a single extra line of text - It seems like we have a lot more than the job offer to talk about  - but didn’t elaborate, and even reading through it, you couldn’t stop smiling. 

Whatever happened in the future with Dieter, she was partially responsible for it - and you knew that she wouldn’t ever let you forget it. 

When your third COVID test came back negative the Tuesday after you got home, you sent a quick text to Dieter that morning letting him know that you’d be unavailable for part of the day. That done, you headed for your parents’ new place, grocery list in hand. 

Your mother added to it, and without talking about anything in detail, you headed for the store, determined to get in and out as fast as possible so that you could start baking. There won’t be too many people this year, but we still need a ton of food. 

You navigated the aisles with relative ease, thankful for the fact that the mask you wore hid your annoyed expression. But you froze when you got to the checkout line, your eyes locked on one of the tabloids displayed on the endcap. 

Dieter Bravo’s Dating Dilemma was the headline. 

Beneath it was a picture taken in Vancouver - and after you’d left, if his haircut was any indication - of him talking on the phone as he walked down the street.

It was a smaller blurb next to his picture that really caught your attention, though. Instagram posts say one thing, but past behavior says another! And below that was an inset picture of the two of you taken from a distance at the airport - along with two photos of Dieter and other women. Christen and Tina. 

You knew that it was a bad idea. But you still reached for the magazine and tossed it into the cart, fighting back the urge to open it and flip to the article while you waited in line. But that would be weird. 

So you forced yourself to wait until you’d paid for your groceries and were sitting in the parking lot, grabbing for the magazine and finding the correct pages. 

As you read them, you couldn’t contain your laughter. The “article” was little more than a few paragraphs picking apart Dieter’s social media posts, as well as Tina’s, and then pictures next to brief mentions of multiple other women he’d been linked to in the past - including Jennifer Pearson, Carol Cobb and Mara. You - like Christen - were simply listed as a “mystery woman”, and by the time you finished reading, you were upset that you’d shelled out the money to buy it. 

Then, you did the only thing you could think of and held the magazine up next to your face, grinning as you raised your phone and took a selfie. Attaching it to a text message, you sent it to Dieter, along with one sentence: Baby’s first tabloid cover! 

Still laughing as you put the car into drive, you wondered if anything would come of the cover as it related to your social media or privacy. It’s not like some people don’t know who I am, I’ve been on TV for years. 

Just as you pulled into your parents’ driveway, your phone rang, Dieter’s face on the screen. “Hey.” Answering it through your car’s Bluetooth, you put the car back into park, leaning against your seat. “You didn’t need to call.”

“Yeah, I did. I didn’t even know that issue was going to print those. I usually get a heads up.”

“Dieter, it’s fine.” Rubbing at your temple, you grinned. “I’m actually kind of annoyed that I’m listed as a mystery woman. These people must not watch Informal Eats, or know how to use Instagram, because -” 

“You could start tagging yourself in pictures.” He laughed and then you did, too. “The one you sent me would be kind of funny.” You hadn’t even considered that, but if Dieter was suggesting it, it was at least worth a thought. 

“Wouldn’t that be an official confirmation, though? I thought we weren’t doing that.” He sighed, and you heard the honking of a horn on his end of the call. Shit, I didn’t even think about where he might be. “Dieter? Are you busy? I don’t want to keep you.” 

“I’m walking to get coffee.” He cleared his throat. “We’ve got a night shoot tonight and then we’re taking a couple days off for the holiday. They don’t celebrate it up here, but a lot of the cast and crew are American, so…” 

“Who are you spending Thanksgiving with?” Chewing on your lower lip, you waited for his answer. 

“Michael and Jenna. He came in on Monday, and they invited me over for dinner.” Good. “Maybe next year we can spend it together.” His voice was quiet but you heard it nonetheless - his apprehension clear, even over the phone. Does he think I wouldn’t want to? 

“We should see how Christmas and New Year’s go, first.” Trying to decrease the tension, you nodded, eyes on the front door. “You might not like my family, and your friends might not like me.”

“I don’t have any real friends.” He laughed, saying your name again. “I made damn sure of that over the last couple years.” Oh, Dieter. You hadn’t really considered that - you’d seen pictures of him with people, heard stories of the time he spent hanging out with them while he was in LA between jobs. But are they really friends? Or is it just … “That’s the thing. When you’re not on the hard shit all the time, it gives you time to think.”

“Dieter, I -” He cut you off, though, his tone not unkind. 

“No, it’s alright.” The sound of a bell came through the speaker and you knew that the conversation was about to get cut short. “It’s the truth. I have people I can call friends, but it’s not … shit, I’m closer to Jenna and Michael than any of them, and I’ve gotta pay her to -”

“You do not.” Laughing, you sighed. “I mean, yeah you do pay her, but she’d still care about you even if you didn’t. These last few years have been weird for everyone, Dieter. Once you’re home for a while, you’ll see.” I hope I’m right. “I’m helping my mom cook for a while, and then I’m going home, so if you want to give me a call later, you can.” 

“I won’t be done tonight until at least 3, so that would be what, 6 am your time? I’m not going you call you that early.” He scoffed. “Too fuckin’ early.” 

“That’s one thing we can agree on.” Getting out of the car, you popped the trunk open, pausing next to it. “But seriously, call me whenever. I like hearing your voice.” He didn’t reply for a few seconds, and then Dieter said your name, waiting a couple breaths to continue. 

“I’m really sorry that they printed that picture. It’s been a week, and I didn’t think they would.”

“Dieter, you kissed me for a solid two minutes out in the open.” Laughing, you tilted your head back, the memory of his lips on yours widening your smile. “I’m surprised they didn’t post a better one.” He snorted at that, but you didn’t give him a chance to reply. “I’m not going to tag anything or post anything. I’m sure some people have already done it for me, but I have everything on silent except for alerts from people I follow, so if it’s up, I haven’t seen it.” 

“Alright.” He cleared his throat. “What are you making today?”

“Pies.” Pulling the trunk all the way open, you eyed the bags. “And we’re brining the turkey. And I’m sure I’ll have to prep at least one or two other sides, even though we’re only having a couple people over. There’s always way too much food.” 

“I’m sorry I won’t be there to help eat any of it. Or to answer questions.” He meant it - you could tell. And I appreciate it. “I should be.”

“No, you’ll be here for Christmas, and there will be way more people there to explain things to.” Tilting your head to the side to trap your phone between it and your shoulder, you paused. “Sorry, Dieter.” 

“I’m not.” You laughed again, fingers closing around the bag handles. “I’m looking forward to it.” So am I. 

—

By Monday morning, you were exhausted, despite the fact that you hadn’t done anything all weekend aside from eat and shop. 

You’d had to explain more than a few things to your relatives - a younger cousin in disbelief that you’d actually worked with Krystal Kris, and one of your aunts loudly questioning why, if you were seeing Dieter, he wasn’t there for the holidays. But aside from that, there hadn’t been much in the way of unexpected conversation, or prying from your family. 

It’s just having so much to do around so many people after so long of … Groaning as you tightened your hold on the steering wheel, you shook your head. “Too much socialization.” 

Once your family left after dinner and a few rounds of cards, you’d called Dieter, video chatting with the three of them for a few minutes and telling him to call you when he was back at his rented apartment. And when he’d done that, it had taken a while to rehash the conversations you’d had with your relatives - and the reactions you’d gotten. It would have been easier if you’d been together, but unexpectedly, just telling him about it had helped ease your stress level over how it had gone. And that’s a good thing.

After so much time spent secluded from the majority of the people around you, the holiday season getting started in full swing had been a shock. The stores were busy, the roadways were busy, and people - including some of your family members - were already unpleasant, even though it was still only November. 

And now I’ve got this meeting with Carmen. Pulling into the parking lot, you searched it for her car and parked next to it. You were a few minutes early, but you wanted to get things over with - because you wanted to know whether or not you’d still have a job in the coming months. Or if I’ll be starting over from scratch.

As you walked toward the doors, your phone rang, the sound pulling you from your thoughts. There was a familiar picture on the screen, and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you answered. “Dieter, you’re calling early. Why are -”

“It is really fucking early, but I wanted to wish you good luck.” He sounded half asleep and you could picture him, stretched out on his side and still under the blankets - hair wild and lines marking his skin from pressing his face against his wrinkled pillowcase. “I’m going back to sleep as soon as we hang up, but -”

“Thank you.” Leaning back against the low wall, you nodded. “I’m happy to hear from you.” 

“They’d be stupid not to agree to let you move somewhere and keep working.” He was mumbling, obviously still half asleep. “But even if they don’t, I’ll take care of you until you find something. Want to.” What? You froze at the words, unsure of whether or not Dieter even realized he’d said them, but when he continued, you knew that he had. “Won’t be able to afford you using Uber Copter every day, but…” 

A loud burst of laughter broke the tension and moments later he joined in, the sound low and rumbling. I miss you so much, Dieter. “Go back to bed. You won’t need to take care of me. Promise.” 

“I love you.” You didn’t say it every time you hung up, or at the end of every text conversation, so hearing the words from Dieter still hit just as hard as they had the first time. Who am I kidding? They always will. 

“I love you too, Bravo. Now go back to sleep. Can’t have you looking like a raccoon on set today.” 

You hung up moments later, and after giving yourself a few seconds to compose yourself - and to remind yourself to bring up Dieter’s offer to take care of you at a later date - you headed inside the building and straight for the elevator. One thing at a time, though. 

Carmen was waiting for you in her office, her desktop covered with folders and a few stacks of paper. “It’s good to see you again.” She looked up at you, gesturing for you to sit. “Have a good weekend?”

“I did. This is the first real holiday I’ve spent at home since before the pandemic.” Sinking into the chair across from hers, you scooted it in, resting your elbows on the desk’s edge. “It’s weird to get things back to almost normal, though.” She agreed, her smile understanding. “How about yours?” 

“It was great. Just the two of us.” She sighed. “I cooked and we just watched movies, and it was amazing to turn off my phone and laptop for a couple days.” She sighed, flipping through the papers directly in front of her. “Now I just have to get through everything for the next couple weeks, and then Nate and I are going to be in Rome for the holidays.” Oh, I didn’t know that. 

“Well, then…” Licking your lips, you took a deep breath. “Let’s not waste any time.” The glint in her eyes told you that she’d been waiting for you to start speaking, and so you didn’t disappoint. “I’m…” Glancing down at your hands for a few seconds and then reaching up to touch the pendant you wore, you steeled yourself for what was coming next. “Carmen, Dieter and I are together. We pretty much have been since… well since Christmas last year, but we just made it official when I was in Texas.” 

“Congratulations.” Her smile grew, the woman reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “That’s got to be the worst kept secret in the world, but…” Both of you laughed, Carmen pulling her hand back and picking up one of the folders before holding it out to you. “You seem happier.” 

“I am.” Taking the folder, you flipped it open, eyeing the same contract that she’d already emailed to you. “But the reason that I wanted to meet with you in person was because I have a couple things that I’d like to talk with you about before I sign anything.” You tapped the papers. “There’s not really much in here about -”

“Are you quitting?” She leaned in, frowning. “Informal Eats wouldn’t be -” 

“I don’t want to quit, no.” Head shaking back and forth, you blew out a breath. “I just … I guess the only way to say it is to say it.” Here goes nothing. “I’m thinking about moving out of Atlanta, Carmen. Either to New York City or to Los Angeles, and I … I guess I’m wondering if it would be possible for me to keep doing what I’ve been doing, but not live here.” You paused, trying to gauge her reaction, but the Carmen’s face was impassive. “You’re based in Atlanta, and I know that won’t change, but …” 

She said your name, the look in her eyes changing to one of amusement. “Are you moving in with Dieter?” Well that was blunt. 

“I’m thinking about it.” You covered your face with both hands, the folder dropping to the desktop. “He’s got a house in LA and an apartment in New York, and he offered me either of them if I could work something out with you. I know there’s offices in -”

“Congratulations.” Carmen leaned back, tilting her head to one side. “There wouldn’t be any relocation assistance or anything, but …” She shrugged, wrinkling her nose. “Just because I’m based out of Atlanta, that doesn’t mean that you need to be.” She gestured at the paperwork on her desk. “Why would you even think that it would be a problem?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” You frowned. “I guess because I’ve always lived here, and this is where I signed the first contract, and I started out … here, so…” So I just assumed I had to stay. “I will be honest with you, though, Carmen. At some point, I’m going to want to do something else, and I have been actively looking into more projects like the one I worked on in England.” You held up the folder again. “But according my agent, the way this is structured, it’d be easy for me to find something in the months that I’m not shooting the show, if I wanted to.” 

She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “We can amend the contract.” The woman took a deep breath, pressing her lips together. “I can have it rewritten, so it’s only one season at a time instead of two. The number of episodes per season will be the same, and we can make it so that you just have to electronically sign the -” 

“No.” You made the decision almost immediately, leaning forward and resting your hand atop the document. “No, I’ll commit to two more seasons. Sixteen total episodes.” Flipping through the pages, you ran your finger down the outline. “Starting in February and running through until next January?” She nodded when you glanced up. “I can do that. I want to do that. I love the show and I love working with you and the crew, but I also… I love him, and being so far away all the time is…” 

“I know.” She smiled, opening her desk drawer and reaching inside for a pen. “The one good thing this pandemic did was show us that we can do most of this shit remotely. Hell, you could move to Minnesota and you’d still be able to keep your job, as long as you could check in when we needed you to.” She grinned, holding out the pen. “Here.” 

“It can’t be this easy.” You took the pen, though, drawing in a deep breath and holding it, meeting her eyes. “Carmen?” 

“It is this easy. The only thing that would change is the airport you fly out of and back into at the end of your trips.” Her smile widened. “There is one thing, though.” Of course there is. “I want to meet him. I am the one that got you the job on Cliff Beasts, and I think I deserve to -” 

Your laughter drowned out her speech, and as you leaned forward, putting the tip of the pen to the paper, she laughed, too. “Yeah, you do, Carmen.” Finishing your signature and adding the date, you dropped the pen and stood, waiting for Carmen to do the same. “He’s coming here for Christmas. I know you’re going to Rome, but if he’s here before you leave, you can meet him then.” 

“Good.” She stepped around the desk and toward you, the woman holding her arms out. “Congratulations on your contract renewal.” Yeah. You were surprised at how much relief you felt at the realization that you were gainfully employed for another year - and that you hadn’t had to sacrifice either your job or the potential to be closer to Dieter to accept the position. “And congratulations on Dieter, too.”

When you hugged her, it was a tight one, the embrace similar to the ones you’d shared before - after meeting for the first time, after filming your pilot, after signing your other contracts - and you were thrilled that it felt just as good that time, too. 

The two of you separated and when you met her eyes again, you were smiling - and so was Carmen. “I’d ask you to come out and grab a drink with me, but…” You glanced at the clock. “It’s barely 10 in the morning, so…”

“Yeah, I’ve got a bunch of stuff to get through today anyway.” She pushed you away gently, her gaze still focused on you. “Plus, from what it sounds like, you need to start figuring out where you’ll be living a couple months from now.” At that, you froze, both eyes going wide. 

Yeah… I guess I do. 

— 

The closer it got to the holidays, the more nervous you were. 

It wasn’t that you were worried about seeing Dieter again, because you knew that he was just as excited as you were. It wasn’t even that you were worried about him meeting your family and some of your friends, because he’d told you that he looked forward to it. 

You were afraid that when Dieter saw how you lived, he’d change his mind about everything. You’d only known each other in temporary housing; rooms designed for short-term use, and the idea of Dieter in your space - using your bathroom and making coffee in your kitchen and sleeping in your bed - was overwhelming. Because we’re used to different things.

You decorated before he got there; stringing brightly colored lights around your windows and on the branches of your tree. Ornaments joined them, and so did a few garlands strategically placed throughout the main rooms of your place. And when you were done, everything felt homey, the soft glow of the tiny lights casting warmth throughout the space and making you feel better. I didn’t realize how much I missed decorating last year.

In the days leading up to Dieter’s arrival, you got some shopping done. Not only did you restock your fridge and cupboards, but you bought gifts, too, figuring that you wouldn’t want to go out to too many places with him there. It wasn’t because you wanted to hide Dieter. You wanted him to feel comfortable no matter where he was, and stores and malls would be busy so close to the holidays. And I don’t want to put him on the spot if anyone recognizes him. 

You were checking things over in the few minutes before you had to leave to pick Dieter up from the airport when you heard someone knock. I’m not expecting anyone. Frowning, you made your way from your bedroom to the front door, peeking through the peephole before opening it. 

All you saw were flowers - a large bouquet, from the looks of it, and so you sighed, pulling the door open. “Hello? Can I -”

“Special delivery.” You froze at the sound of the voice, eyes going wide as you watched the flowers move to one side to give you a glimpse at the man carrying them. “Thought I’d bring them to you myself instead of having ‘em delivered.” His smile widened but you couldn’t move, instead just staring. Dieter’s here. I was supposed to pick him up, and - 

“You’re here. But I was just getting ready to … how? How are you …” 

“Took an earlier flight.” He bit down on the inside of his lower lip, the look in his eyes shifting to one of disbelief. “I wanted to surprise you.” 

“You did.” You finally moved, reaching out and taking the flowers from him before turning to put them on top of the table against the wall. “Dieter, this is the best fucking surprise ever.” Once both of your hands were free, you reached for him and twisted your fingers in the material of his jacket, pulling him into your apartment. “Come here, Bravo.” 

Dieter reached behind him and grabbed the handle of his suitcase, dragging it after him and over the sill, only letting it go to pull on the knob to close the door behind him. Then he reached for you. 

When his arms wound around you, you sighed deeply, turning your head so that you could press your cheek against the front of his shoulder. Closing your eyes, you just held him, focusing on the way that even though he’d just come from an airport - and a cross country flight - he still smelled like Dieter, and you knew that within a night or two, so would your bed and your blankets. He’s in my apartment. He’s here. “I’m happy to see you, too.” He murmured the words, one hand moving up the center of your back and coming to rest between your shoulders. “You scared me for a second there.” 

“I did?” You stepped backwards without letting him go. “I didn’t mean to. I was just … shit. I guess I was in airport mode.”

“That’s one of the reasons I did what I did.” He moved his hands to your arms and slid them down, squeezing your hands before he let go. “Didn’t want you to have to go anywhere near that goddamn place so close to Christmas.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “No, seriously. I know it’s a fucking nightmare. I filmed a movie here a while ago, and it was bad, and that was on a regular day.” 

He toed his shoes off, and you watched as he looked around, eyes narrowed and his tongue visible where it poked into his cheek. He hates it. It’s too small. “How was your flight?” You were nervous, and you knew that it was irrational. You and Dieter had been through plenty together, and had gone much longer between visits before. Do I really feel like this because of my apartment? “Did -”

“Can I tell you something?” He turned to face you, putting one hand on his hip. “I’ve seen pictures of this place, and I’ve seen it when we FaceTime and …” He wet his lips. “I knew what it looked like, but …” Dieter moved closer, both of his hands rising so that he could hold your jaw between his palms. “It’s even better than I thought.” 

“What?” You were confused, even as his thumbs swept over your skin. “Better? It’s just an apartment.” 

“Yeah, but it belongs to you.” He leaned closer, your foreheads touching. “And you invited me to see it and to meet your family, and …” He hummed, lips moving against yours. “And I still can’t fuckin’ believe it.” Believe it, Dieter. You wanted to laugh at that, but he didn’t let you, the gentle press of his mouth turning more insistent as he kissed you for the first time since Vancouver. “Love you.” He paused long enough to speak, nodding twice as he said it. “I’m so goddamn excited to be here with you.” 

“Yeah.” You kissed him one last time and then pushed him away with one hand. “But we’re going to be busy, Dieter. We have a couple parties and the actual holiday, and -”

“We’re not busy tonight though, right?” No, we’re not. “Because I’m pretty sure that I saved us a couple hours by getting here early.” His smile widened, and Dieter’s gaze dropped from your face to your body and then rose, the look in his eyes changing to a heated one that you knew well. “And that means we have extra time now.” 

“Do you have something in mind?” You had an idea where he was going, but giving him shit was something that you enjoyed. “Do you want a tour of my place? Or need to take a nap? Or want to - “

“Tour later.” He stepped forward and you backed up, heartbeat thumping. “And I’ll sleep tonight. But right now…” He sucked air through his teeth, hands moving down and to your hips. “I’ve been thinking about you since I dropped you off at that airport, and I wanna do something about it.” He slipped his fingertips beneath the top elastic of your leggings, the warmth of his skin making you gasp. “If that’s alright with you.” 

“The bedroom is -” He shook his head, cutting you off. “Ok, the couch -”

“No.” Dieter chuckled, more of his fingers pushing between the material and your skin and then pushing downward. “No, you’ve got a counter right behind you, and if you sit on it, you’re the perfect height.” You gasped again and felt your stomach lurch, but instead of letting him continue to remove your pants, you grabbed for him, one hand making its way to the tangle of curls on his head and the fingers of the other curling around his arm and gripping him tightly. That was accompanied by a bruising kiss, Dieter meeting you in the middle with his lips already parted, his tongue peeking through. 

It was shocking to you how much you’d missed him, and how much missing him was amplified by having him right in front of you - and in your arms again. The kiss went on, turning sloppier by the second, and you felt the elastic snap back into place when Dieter moved his hands up, sliding them along your sides and pushing your shirt up with them. 

You didn’t want to let go of his hair, but you did, raising your arms above your head so that when he pulled away to breathe, breaking the kiss, he was able to remove it completely. He touched you greedily, fingers stroking over your bared skin, and when he ducked his head down so that his mouth could trek across your upper chest, you tilted your head back and sighed, one hand gripping the edge of the counter and the other once again tangled in his hair. 

“Missed you,” he mumbled without backing off. “Missed you so goddamn much.” You agreed, looking down again, and when Dieter straightened up all the way, you saw that his eyes were shining. “Never missed anybody as much as I miss you.” Oh, Dieter. 

It was a shocking admission - and entirely unexpected coming from Dieter, but it was genuine, his jaw clenching as you absorbed the words. “I love you too, Dieter. And I was going to wait to tell you until later, but …” Biting your lip, you took a deep breath. “But if it’s alright with you, when I come out for New Year’s, I think I might stay a while, so you won’t have to miss me.” 

He hadn’t been expecting those words from you, either, but his reaction was immediate. Dieter encircled you with his arms, laughing as he pulled you against his chest. “Alright with me? Fuck, there’s nothing that would make me happier.” His voice was shaky, and even though you knew it was because he was just happy, it made you sniffle, too, as you closed your eyes and hugged him tightly. “Bring your whole fucking apartment if you want.” 

“I mean, I won’t have time to pack it all with you here, but…” You laughed again, meeting his eyes and reaching up to swipe away a tear from one of them. “My lease is up in February, and I really don’t want to sign another one, so…” 

“Yeah, I know.” He rolled his eyes and turned his head so that he could kiss the heel of your hand. “I’m just saying.” The two of you stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, and then it was Dieter that spoke, brows knit together in thought. “You mean it? You want to come stay with me?” 

“I do.” Twisting a curl near his temple around one finger, you nodded. “We’ve only been official for a little while, but it’s been … I’ve… we’ve …” 

“We coulda been together before I left England.” He shrugged. “I was just following your lead.” You groaned when he winked, but Dieter went on. “I get it. I want you there, too.” He tilted his head to the side, not breaking eye contact. “But I’m not easy to live with.” 

That made you laugh, and you waved him off, looking away briefly and then back at him. “I think if we made it through quarantine and not being allowed to leave each other’s presence for more than a few hours at a time, we can handle living in the same house and having options, Dieter. We’ll be fine. Besides,” you leaned closer, releasing your hold on his hair and gently tapping his cheek with your palm. “You’ve got a guesthouse, right?” 

That got a bigger laugh out of him, and Dieter lowered his head as he agreed with you, his hold on your hips tightening just enough that you could feel it. “I do.” When he looked up, all signs of amusement were gone from his features and he instead looked serious, his attention focused. “Now how about you get up on that counter and let me show you exactly what one of the benefits of living with me will be.” 

“Pants on or off?” Your desire for him grew again, warmth filling your belly and spreading. You’d never tire of Dieter looking at you the way he was that night, and part of you knew that he knew it, too. He needs to know it. 

“Off.” He nodded, stepping backwards. “All the way off.” You did as he asked without question, which left you only in your bra. You were quiet while he grabbed for one of your chairs and dragged it closer to you, but you gasped in shock when he sat down backwards on it, leaning forward and pressing his chest against the tall back, both of his hands reaching out to settle on your calves. “Get comfortable, because you’re gonna be here a while.” He arched a brow, locking eyes with you before he dropped his gaze to your waist and then lower while pulling your legs apart. “Fuck.” 

You pressed your lips together and then inched forward, hooking your legs over his shoulders and using both hands to brace yourself on the countertop. “That’s fine by me, Dieter.” The chair scooted forward a few more inches, which brought him closer, too, and when Dieter nodded, turning his head to the right and licking the inside of your thigh, you tensed, fingers curling against the laminate. Oh, that feels incredible… I missed him so much. 

“Mmmmhmm.” He turned his head the other way, and repeated the motion on your other thigh, his hands sliding up your bare legs and to your hips, pulling you even closer. “Fucking perfect.” 

— 

You hadn’t wanted to go, but Dieter insisted that the two of you head out to a get together one of your friends was hosting a few days before Christmas. 

It was at a local restaurant, and the text message you’d received explained that the entire upper floor was reserved for your group. The sentiment was nice, and you had gotten along well with her for a while, but you knew exactly why she’d reached out after so long. 

“Meg wants to meet you, Dieter.” You were getting ready in the bathroom while he got dressed in your bedroom, both of you fresh out of the shower. “She wants to use it as an opportunity to network, and I’ll bet you $100 that she flirts with you right in front of me within the first fifteen minutes of being introduced.” 

He poked his head in a few seconds later, and you caught his frown as a reflection in the mirror. “How does she know I’m here?” 

“I don’t know, maybe because of the pictures you posted the other day from the Coke museum and the aquarium?” Arching a brow at him, you tilted your head to the side. “Or the caption that very specifically said ‘a much different world of Coke than I’m used to’ with the emoji that’s laughing so hard it’s -”

“Ok, yeah, that might have been what did it.” He fully entered the room, and you took a few seconds to watch as he wrinkled his nose, raising both hands to drag them through his hair and push it into even more disarray. “I still think we should go, though.” 

“We’re going, Dieter. You said you wanted to, and that’s fine, I’m just telling you what to expect. This isn’t LA or New York, and the people I know here aren’t exactly drowning in celebrities, so … just be prepared for people to be a little overeager to impress you.” 

It would be the first real test of your relationship, and the first time Dieter met anyone in your life. And the fact that we’ve known each other for so long at this point makes that feel… fuck. It’s strange. You’d existed in a bubble of sorts for almost the entirety of your relationship, and with him visiting you, that was coming to an end in a very final way. 

“‘I’ll be fine.” He stepped up behind you, one hand on your shoulder and the other arm winding around your body to pull you back against his chest. “And so will you.” Dieter spoke into your ear, his voice quiet. “And if she flirts, I’ll shut that shit down right away, because -”

“No.” You bit your lip, turning toward him. “Don’t.” He was confused, but you didn’t let him stay that way. “I think it might be funny to watch her try to handle you.” 

“Handle me?” He scoffed. “You can barely handle me and you’ve known me for over a year.” That made you laugh, and you used one hand to pat Dieter’s chest gently. “What?”

“I learned a long time ago that handling you is impossible.” You blinked slowly, trying to school your expression into nonchalance. “I tolerate you.” It took about three seconds for Dieter to respond, and when he did you caught the roll of his eyes before he leaned in, mouth meeting yours. 

“That’s what you call it now?” He mumbled between kisses, his hands roaming over you. “Tolerating me?” You nodded, winding your arms around his neck and laughing against his lips. “Fucking unbelievable.” 

Having Dieter in Atlanta was better than you could have ever hoped for, and it seemed like he was enjoying himself, too. You’d spent plenty of time alone together, but he’d also wanted to go out and explore, asking you to show him the parts of the city and suburbs you liked most. It was easy to blend into the larger than usual holiday crowds in public places, and when Dieter wore a hat pulled down low over his ears and slipped on a pair of glasses, it disguised him almost completely. 

He wasn’t doing it on purpose, either, and that was what made it better. 

You hoped that you were able to settle into LA just as easily, though you didn’t think it would happen quite so fast. We’ll see. You pulled back with a sigh, closing your eyes. “As much as I’d love to stand here and do this all night, if you want to go to this thing, I need to finish getting ready.” You looked down and then gestured to your robe and slippers. “I don’t think I pull off this look as well as you do.”

“No.” He backed away, arms dropping from you before he raised one ringed finger and pointed it at you. “You pull it off much better.” It was a joke, but at the same time, you understood that it meant that Dieter truly didn’t care what you wore or how you looked, and if you chose to actually go out in public wearing the robe, he wouldn’t have batted an eye. “But I should probably put on a shirt to go into a restaurant, so I’ll stop annoying you now and go do that.” 

He winked and then turned away from you. As he made it to the doorway, you called out his name, waiting until he’d turned back in your direction to say anything else. “I never want you to stop annoying me.” 

— 

You’d barely taken a step into the room, and you were already ready to leave. But we’d have to wait for another Uber, and it’s surge pricing and … It wasn’t that it was loud in the room, because it wasn’t, or that it was overly crowded, because it was still early and people were filtering in - it was just that you knew exactly what you’d be dealing with for the following few hours. 

Dieter was beside you when you headed over to the bar, and after you both ordered, you carried your drinks over to a small, raised table with a good vantage point. You spent a few minutes pointing people out to Dieter, but after the third “I met them in college,” you stopped, shaking your head. “Are you even going to remember any of these names if you talk to them? It’s pointless, you won’t ever see them again after tonight.”

“I will.” He sipped his drink, angling his body toward you and resting his elbow on the table. “It’s just like memorizing lines.” That made sense to you, and you were somewhat irritated that you hadn’t made the same connection. 

“This feels kind of like that first Thanksgiving after high school where everyone’s home from college and pretending they didn’t just see each other a few weeks earlier.” He drank again, watching you from over the rim of his glass. 

“Or like a fucking Hollywood circlejerk where everyone’s too fucking excited to tell everyone else that they know someone and can get them in touch with -” You snorted, reaching up to cover your mouth to hide your laugh. 

“It’s so good to see you!” A cheerful voice interrupted Dieter, and when you looked toward the source, you saw Meg approaching the table, a necklace of blinking Christmas lights resting against her chest and highlighting the low-cut top she wore. “I’m glad you made it.” You caught the way her gaze moved from you to Dieter and barely stopped the roll of your eyes at how obvious it was. “And you, too. It -”

“Dieter Bravo.” He held his hand out, smiling. “Are you the one that organized this?” The smile stayed on his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nice to meet you. Meg?” She took his hand and shook it, her giggle audible even over the music playing through the speakers. 

“That’s me.” She bit her lip and tossed her hair over one shoulder. “I’ve met you before though. When you filmed here? We were eating dinner at the same restaurant, and I sent a drink over to your table.” She cleared her throat, leaning in, and for a few seconds, you were horrified at the thought that she was going to remind him of something happening between them. That would ruin everything, even though it was so long ago. “You came over and talked for a few minutes, and -”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember that.” He pulled his hand back, lifting his drink to sip from it. “That was a while ago, and I probably had a lot going on.” You watched her recoil slightly, Meg’s eyes dropping and then rising again to meet Dieter’s as he reached over to put his arm around you. “Thanks for the drink, though.” 

It shocked you how dismissive he was being, because you’d never seen Dieter act that way before. Not even with David. “I… you’re welcome.” Meg took a long drink from her wine glass, and you could tell she was nervous - and a little surprised at his reaction. “How long are you in town for?” She looked at you then, wetting her lips. “Are you back for good? You’ve been busy; it feels like you haven’t been home since before the pandemic.” I didn’t know you kept tabs on my travels.

“I’m back for a little while.” You finally spoke, shifting your feet and shrugging your shoulders. “I just signed a new contract for the show, so I’ll be working on that starting next February.” But I won’t be doing it from here. “And Dieter’s just here for Christmas. He wanted to meet my family and couldn’t make it out last month.” 

“I was filming.” He grinned again, wiggling his eyebrows. “TV show.” You knew what he was doing - trying to throw Meg off balance by flipping between being aloof and almost too friendly within the same conversation. I think it’s working. “But we’re going to LA for New Year’s, so I won’t be out here for too long.” He laughed, his fingers circling slowly against your lower back. “And between the three of us? I hope she likes LA enough to consider staying.” 

His words surprised you almost as much as they surprised Meg, and you knew with certainty that that was exactly what Dieter had hoped for. Sneaky little shit. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” You turned your head and Dieter did the same, meeting your gaze. I see you, Bravo. “But we’ll see.” 

He smirked for a second and then closed the distance between you, lips soft when they met yours. “We will.” He spoke so that only you could hear, and when you looked back at Meg a few moments later, you saw that her eyes were wide. That just confirmed everything even more than anything we’ve said here. “You married, Meg? Or dating anyone?” 

It took all of your self control to keep from laughing at Dieter’s abrupt change in topic, but when she spluttered out a response and then pointed back over her shoulder, you followed the gesture, moving in your seat to see who she was pointing at. “I hope it’s not weird, but I’m here with Sam, and -” 

You froze at her words, and suddenly it all made sense. Dieter stiffened beside you, and when you reached for your drink, your heart was pounding. Sam as in… fuck. It made sense - you’d all known each other for years, but no part of you had realized that Meg and Sam had kept in touch. Or that they liked each other enough to date. He told me last month that … what the fuck. 

She excused herself to go and get him, and once she walked away, Dieter pivoted toward you, concern written all over his face. “You alright? That went from zero to fucking 60 in -”

“I’m fine.” You paused. “It’s going to be a little weird for you to meet the last guy I was with, but … it just took me by surprise.” Dieter’s other hand rose, fingers bent, and he trailed his knuckles against your cheek. “And she was flirting with you, just like I said she would.” 

“She was, but do you blame her?” He fluttered his eyelashes, the genuine smile back on his face. “It’s me after all.” That made you laugh, some of the tension leaving your body. “And it won’t be weird. I promise.” He shrugged and then leaned in so that he could speak directly into your ear. “Think about how fucking weird it’s going to be for him to meet me, though.” 

You hadn’t considered that - but he was right. It will so much weirder for Sam. Dieter kissed the space just in front of your ear before straightening up and scanning the room. You did the same, eyeing the buffet table set up a few feet away and frowning. I wish we’d stopped to grab snacks. “What was that, by the way? I’ve never seen you act that way with anyone, and I’m surprised you were so quick to pull the I’m not into this card.” 

“She fucked herself over.” He sniffed and finished his drink, tossing the last swallow back before sucking an ice cube between his teeth. “Flirting is one thing but being fucking rude to you and bringing up sending over that drink? Fuck that. It’s a game to her, and that’s not what you are to me.” 

His words hit hard. Dieter’s playfulness was one of the things that drew you to him, as was his sense of humor and his ability to read a situation and play off of it. But with you, from almost the beginning, he’d been honest with you, speaking his mind and giving things to you straight. He’d never led you on or made your friendship the butt of a joke, and while you hadn’t thought he would do it regarding your relationship, either, that night was proof. I needed that. I needed to know. 

“Thank you, Dieter.” You reached out to take his hand, linking your fingers with his and rubbing your thumb over the ring you’d borrowed. “That means a lot.” He squeezed your hand and then lifted both of them, bringing the back of yours up so that he could kiss it. You were no stranger to Dieter’s tiny moments of intimacy, but after keeping yourselves hidden for so long, them happening in public took you by surprise. 

Movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention, and you sighed as you watched Sam and Meg heading toward you, their shoulders touching as they walked side by side. You wondered how long they’d been dating, or if they’d talk about it, and then you wondered if it was strange for you to ask. But she said she was here with him, not that they were dating. Maybe I jumped to conclusions. 

Sam spoke first, saying hello to you and then sticking his hand out to Dieter as he made an introduction. Dieter moved smoothly, keeping your fingers linked as he reached out to shake Sam’s with his free one. “It’s nice to meet you, Dieter.” He retracted his hand and then leaned against the table, nodding before he looked over at you. “And it’s good to see you again, too. Sorry I haven’t had a chance to get ahold of you, the holidays are just…” He rolled his eyes. “You know.” 

“I do.” You exhaled slowly, giving him a wary smile before you turned your attention to Meg. “We were supposed to meet for lunch, and we just … haven’t.” She seemed surprised, her lips parting as her eyes flicked to Dieter. He doesn’t care, but nice try. “I didn’t know the two of you were still in touch.” You arched a brow and sipped your drink as your attention returned to your ex. “You didn’t say anything about it when we last talked. How’d this happen?”

“We did a lot of Zoom game nights.” Sam reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. “We couldn’t do bar trivia because everything was closed, so…” He shrugged. “Kept in touch that way for a while, and then a couple weeks ago...” Sam trailed off, and even though he looked slightly uncomfortable, he didn’t try and overexplain anything.

“We had our first few conversations over a balcony wall.” Dieter rolled his eyes. “Well, after we met in the hotel lobby, anyway. We weren’t allowed to leave our rooms for two weeks before we started working on the movie, and she was in the room next door.” 

“You make it sound like you settled for talking to me, Dieter.” Nudging him with your shoulder, you laughed. “Ouch.” 

“You were quarantined with him?” Meg leaned in, her attention fully on you. “Oh, I didn’t know that.” 

“It’s all going to be talked about in the documentary.” You scratched the side of your neck. “I can’t really go into it now, but yeah. I only got the job working for Cliff Beasts because I got sick filming my show, and got stuck in the hotel. So I actually ended my quarantine just as the cast got there to start theirs, and it all worked out.” 

“I’d sit on my balcony and watch her walking around the hotel property.” Dieter let go of your hand and put both of his on the table. “She was the only one that wasn’t hotel staff that wasn’t stuck in their damn room. It was fucking depressing.” 

“We got through it, though.” You finished your drink, too, and then pushed the empty glass to the center of the table. “And now we’re here.” Sam nodded, eyeing you and then looking over at Dieter. What are you thinking about? 

“Is it weird for you, Dieter?” He smiled, nose wrinkling. “To be standing here, talking to -”

“No.” There was no gestation on Dieter’s part when he answered, the hand that had been holding yours moving to your back. “Not at all. I’ve heard a lot about you, and I figured we’d meet at some point.” That surprised Sam - and Meg, too, the woman sucking in a breath as she straightened up. “And since we’re out of here in a couple days, now’s as good a time as any.” 

“She’s going to Los Angeles for New Year’s.” Meg reached over and touched Sam’s arm. “And maybe for longer.” Well shit. You hadn’t counted on her bringing it up again so quickly - or having to explain yourself to your ex. But I’m going to have to tell my family so fuck it, I guess. 

But as silence hung between the four of you, you felt yourself sway, anxiety building in your chest. It’s too much. It’s happening too fast. 

“Well, this whole thing is weird for me, to be perfectly honest.” You reached for your glass again, picking it up and then staring down into it, like your wish for a refill would make one appear. “But yes. Meg’s right. Christmas in Georgia. New Year’s and beyond in California.” You set the glass down and then backed up, lifting both hands. “Right now, though? I’m going to get another drink.” 

You left the table without saying anything else, heart pounding in your chest while you headed for the bar. What the fuck was that? You’d gone from being totally at ease and joking around with Dieter to being overwhelmed in seconds, even though you had no real reason to be. 

It wasn’t that telling Sam bothered you. It wasn’t even that the two men were face to face. So what is it then? Why do I feel this way? You ordered your drink and then waited patiently, fingertips tapping on the bartop. 

“Are you Dieter Bravo?” A woman’s high-pitched voice reached your ears, and when you turned toward the sound, drink in hand, you saw that one of the other party guests was gaping at Dieter, who stood a few feet away, one hand in his pocket. “I loved you in -”

“Yes. I am. Thanks.” He flashed her a quick smile, and then pointed at you. “I’m just trying to get to my girlfriend, though.” It was the first time he’d referred to you in that way, and even though the crowd was loud, you heard him clearly. He called me his … 

Your unease faded as Dieter approached you, concern in his eyes. “Dieter, I -” 

“Come on.” He reached out, taking your hand and leading you away from the bar. “Come with me.” He opened a door that you hadn’t noticed that led out  into a back hallway. Once the door shut behind you, he backed away and leaned against the wall, loosely crossing his arms. “I’m not going to ask if you’re alright, but I’m going to ask if this is better.” 

“Yes.” You closed your eyes and nodded. It is. “Yeah, Dieter, I don’t … I don’t know what happened in there. It -”

“I know exactly what happened.” He said your name, waiting until you opened your eyes to say anything more. “You got ambushed. And you had to answer questions you weren’t expecting because you shouldn’t  have expected ‘em five minutes after you walked into a Christmas party.” He moved closer to you, reaching for the drink you held and taking it from you. “It wasn’t what you answered that fucked you up, it was that you felt like you had to tell them anything in the first place.” He took a drink and then handed it back to you, waiting. 

“I didn’t have to answer. I could have changed the subject. I should have. But when she said she was here with Sam, it threw me off, and I felt like I should say something back.” You couldn’t even pinpoint why, exactly, but it was the truth. “Dieter, what if this happens in California? These are just people I know. Out there, it’ll be people you’ve worked with or might work with in the -”

“I don’t care.” He reached for you, putting one hand on each shoulder and squeezing. “I won’t care. Say whatever the fuck you want. That’s what I’ve done for my entire career.”

“But I’m not you.” You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “And if this is what happens to me at a party like this with people I know, LA is going to … fuck, Dieter. What if I fuck it all up? I’m going to embarrass you.” That’s it. This… this makes it real, and when it’s real, it might fail, and I don’t want that failure to be my fault.

“It takes a hell of a lot to embarrass me.” Leaning in, he pressed his forehead to yours and shook his head slowly. “I almost fucking died in front of you, and you’re worried about saying too much or the wrong thing to someone you may never see again? Fuck that. And fuck anyone that makes you feel like that.” Dieter’s hands slid from your shoulders to your biceps, the motion soothing. “Sam congratulated us, by the way. And I think it surprised Meg that he’s cool with it, but they still walked away together, so… who knows.” 

That made you laugh, and after you took a deep breath to steady yourself, you cleared your throat. “Maybe she thought that I’d get jealous seeing them together, and it would leave you free.” He widened his eyes and then made a face. What, is she not your type? “I heard what you called me by the bar, Dieter. I … I didn’t realize how much I’d like hearing that.”

“After telling you I love you, calling you my girlfriend seems pretty damn inadequate, but…” He lifted and then dropped his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “For now, it’s the truth.” For now? What does that mean? “It’s going to be fine. All of it. I don’t care if every single one of those people out there fucking hates me. I’m here for you and for your family. They’re the important ones.” 

Dieter wet his lips and then pulled the lower one back between his teeth, frowning as he eyed you. “What?” You took a small drink, swallowing and then taking a deep breath. “What’s that look for, Dieter?” 

“I knew what coming out here meant.” He gestured at the door behind you with one hand, his rings catching the light, silver flashing as his hand moved. “I knew that being here unannounced and ‘unplanned’ was going to get people talking. I can handle it, because I’m used to it, but I didn’t… fuck, I didn’t think about you not being used to it or the attention or the questions. I’m fucking sorry. I should have. I’ve been deflecting bullshit for years, and it’s like breathing for me, but you … shit.” 

“Dieter, no, it’s fine. I’m… I’m going to have to get used to it, right?” You rubbed at the bridge of your nose with two fingers, sighing. “There’s a public aspect that comes along with being with you, and even though some people are familiar with me, if I go places or to premieres or events with you, I’m going to get asked questions, and -”

“If?” He scoffed, his smile returning as he stepped closer. “You’re not gonna be able to get rid of me that easy. As far as I’m concerned, you’re coming to everything with me.” What? Is he serious? “So get ready for it.” 

That made you laugh, and as the sound escaped your lips, you realized that you actually felt better. You were calmer and more collected, your heartbeat almost back to normal. “I love you, Dieter. I didn’t mean to … I don’t know. It’s just a lot.” 

“It is.” He slid one arm around your waist, the other going around your shoulders as he pulled you in for a hug. “And I’ve got a secret to tell you.” He kissed your cheek before turning his head, his stubbled cheek rubbing against yours as his lips moved to hover just over your ear. “I’ve never cared so much about whether or not something goes well in my entire life.” He paused, and despite the muffled noise of the party just beyond the hallway, you heard that his inhale was shaky. “So you’re not gonna fuck this up. That’s not even an option.” 

“If you say so.” His words stunned you, but you believed them, and could feel the sincerity pouring off of Dieter as he held you close. “Thank you. I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend tonight, so…” You nuzzled against his cheek, tightening your arms and being careful not to spill your drink down his back. “I appreciate it.” 

When you separated a few seconds later, the two of you took deep breaths, but it was Dieter who spoke first. “Do you want to leave?” He shrugged. “We can stop on the way home for food, or just go back and order something.” He paused, cocking his head to the side and then grinning at you. “Or, do you want to stay and spend the next couple hours listening to me come up with new bullshit stories about making movies and filming TV shows and being friends with half of Hollywood?” 

He was giving you an out - two of them, if you were truthful. Because if you left, you’d both have a relaxing night in your apartment doing what you were already so comfortable with. And if you stayed, he’d volunteered to do the heavy lifting for you with the party crowd, turning on the charm and keeping them occupied. It took a lot out of him - and you both knew it - but you also knew that Dieter wouldn’t have made the offer if he hadn’t wanted to. He’d do that for me. 

“How about this.” You flattened one hand on his chest, and then used two fingers to undo another button on his shirt. “We go back out there and get something to eat and mingle for a little while.” He nodded slowly, eyes locked with yours. “And then, when you’re ready to leave, you tell me it’s time, and I’ll walk out of here with no questions asked.” 

“You sure?”

“I am.” Sliding your fingertips under his shirt, you rested them over his heart. “I just needed a minute, Dieter. It got real all of a sudden, and I wasn’t expecting it to.” 

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. “I know.” He nodded twice. “I’ve been there.” When he backed up, you let your hand drop from his body. But Dieter didn’t let it fall all the way, catching it and linking your fingers together. “But the difference is that I didn’t have someone like me to step in.” 

He didn’t say anything more, but he did turn and head for the door without letting go. His words hit you hard; it was always the little things that he added as almost an afterthought that impacted you the most. He revealed the most about himself in small doses - Dieter’s admissions giving you a more thorough picture of exactly what his younger years had been like. And he trusts me enough to tell me the truth. 

You’d need his help navigating the new - and much more public - lifestyle that being with him would bring, and you both knew it. Nights like that one and other firsts would be difficult for you, but as you re-entered the party, the music and sounds of people talking growing louder, you understood that it wouldn’t always be that way. 

The two of you joined the small crowd around the buffet table, and Dieter finally let go of your hand to reach for a plate, handing it over to you before taking one of his own. You watched him fill it with finger foods and dips, turning his head and making an offhand comment to the man next to him, both of them laughing as they reached for pretzels. 

He fits in here. It was the final thing you needed to calm yourself entirely, and when he looked over at you, his smile wide, and winked, you laughed too. He can do this, and so can I. It would take time and effort to make your relationship work, but it was worth it. No question there. 

And the more comfortable you became with things, the more both of you would be able to relax and just enjoy being together - as you had in the months you’d spent getting to know each other. Once all of the formalities - and introductions - were done, it would be easier to focus on the future, whatever that entailed.

And you might not have had anyone before, Dieter … but now you do.

—

[foreverisntenough]

‘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

[kedreeva]

Went to see "Twisters" tonight and it was thoroughly enjoyable!

Some spoilers below the cut

Okay first of all, I'm extremely excited to say that they don't push a love triangle despite there being a girl MC and two main guys. One of them is an old friend who remains firmly an old friend, with no indication that he has romantic feelings. Like they get to be actual friends!!!!! And the other, while potentially a love interest, had just as much potential to be a friend instead, and in an extremely important (to me) way they do not kiss! I was shocked, actually. I expected them to pull out a "gotta have a kiss to appease the amatonormative folks" but nope! Not even in the little mid credit blurb. He stays the night at her childhood home with her and nothing happens. Like not even an awkward moment of tension, they don't even show them going to bed I don't think.

And I feel this to my bones, she was allowed to be the star. She changed her old friend's mind and gave him a chance to choose doing the right thing and he did it because he cared about her opinion of him and wanted to be who she thought he was. And the other guy found out she had dreams/goals of doing something and instead of taking them or doing it for her, he said what can I do to help you, and she chose to let him help her. It was so softly done!! And this guy, he was a full on attention hound with a YouTube channel and loves showing off and he's taking a press guy into the storms to do a story about how awesome he is at tornado wrangling. But when it comes down to it, he tells the reporter she's the real story AND SHE IS!! The article gets written about her instead!

The beginning was. A lot. You get introduced to the storm hunting group, and then immediately 3 of the 5 get killed and the MC almost does, all because she miscalculated. But you know what? She a) keeps her trauma and b) continues doing meteorology stuff, just from a safer distance. Like it's very clear that tornadoes are still this girl's passion, something she loves with every fiber of her being, but she's also been traumatized by losing her boyfriend and two of her closest friends (not to mention her dream project) and nearly her life, in one go. And even still it is something she literally can't stay away from, she still takes a job involved with them through data analysis, and you can practically feel it killing her at the start. The way she lights up at the mention of studying them more closely like she had wanted to, and that excitement immediately chased out by fear. It was nicely done.

They did a really nice thing with the music as well- PERFECTLY captured that kind of moment where the rest of the world drops away and all you can perceive for a moment or two is this thing you love so much it feels like time stops to let you love it more. Except she's looking at weather. At winds moving or clouds or tornadoes. Which is so cool of them to have done for her. This girl loves one thing and it's fuckin WEATHER.

The "villain" of the story is understated and they really don't waste time going into detail about it, which is great because the MC isn't really interested in finding out more about the real estate mogul capitalizing on the devastation. She just doesn't want her friend working for them anymore. She finds out he is, she draws a line in the sand and tells him he should be doing the right thing not the easy thing, and her friend takes her objection seriously and alters his behavior. And that's all the more they really get into that side of the story. Why waste time on it when there's more tornadoes to show? This movie did what Godzilla: King of Monsters failed to do- showed us the monster as much as possible and actually I do care about the people still because none of their problems were irrelevant, none of them were problems for the sake of having problems.

Anyway this movie was enjoyable to me. If you like weather phenomena, storm chasing, chaos, and actually interesting interpersonal relationships, go have a watch!

[bliss-in-the-void]

Gege Akutami, You Do Not Understand Gojo Satoru, and Here is Why

I was reading this article to help me cope with the traumatic events of Chapter 236 when a certain portion didn’t sit right with me.

Long post, click to read the full analysis:

(this is probably the most important post I've made so far)

Now, we all know that Gege doesn’t like Gojo. They don’t make it a secret in the slightest. Which is fine in itself, as an author you are 100% within your right to hate a character you created, and I respect that—it gives dimension to the dynamic of a story.

What I don’t care for is the reasons Akutami lists for their dislike of Gojo.

Reason #1 as stated in the above blurb of the article: Gojo doesn’t have depth.

To me, this is a wild statement to make as an author, but especially as the one who wrote Gojo. Where does he lack depth? Genuine question.

I believe he is an incredibly complex character.

He is the first sorcerer in centuries to be born with the Six Eyes and Limitless techniques, which automatically sets up so many nuances. Coupled with the fact that Akutami has stated that he grew up spoiled, that right there should tell you some things about why he is the way he is. He has a bit of an inflated ego when it comes to his powers. And why wouldn’t he? From the time he was born, the people around him treated him like some sort of God. How else was he supposed to grow up? He’s told his whole life he possesses unparalleled power, and he’s going to believe that.

Even still, it really isn’t as unchecked as Akutami seems to believe it is. Despite his distaste for authority, Gojo still reports to the higher ups, goes on missions, exorcizes curses, and works collaboratively with his fellow sorcerers. If he was really the giant egomaniac Akutami argues that he is, he’d say ‘to hell with authority’ and run off to do whatever he wants like Yuki. I mean, COME ON, this guy is the most powerful modern sorcerer and he still attended all four years of high school. He could have easily never attended—who was going to stop him?

He has a peculiar sense of humor that can get inappropriately timed in certain moments, but it’s obvious that it’s a deflection and a coping mechanism for the horrors of a sorcerer’s reality. He doesn’t just joke about death and dying because he doesn’t care. He cares too much and he doesn’t know how to deal with it, so he suppresses and laughs it off. Moments like this are seen after Suguru dies in JJK 0 when he was clearly crying afterward, but had to put on a cheerful facade for Yuuta and the other students.

He is a very good teacher. It’s hard for a naturally gifted prodigy to effectively teach things which come automatically to them, and somehow he finds creative ways to do it. Teaching Yuuji to control cursed energy by using one of Yaga’s dolls and giving him a movie marathon? One of Yuuji’s favorite hobbies? Genius and so considerate for Yuuji. He’d just been thrown into the sorcerer world, learning all these new things, and Gojo decided to introduce a foreign concept to him through something familiar and comfortable to him. That is amazing, and the mark of a very kind, understanding teacher. He’s also really patient with his students. Yes, he gives them tough love sometimes by throwing them into missions, but it really is to make them strong. How else will they grow if they aren’t put under pressure?

His motivation for being a teacher is very selfless. He himself has stated that he isn’t suited to be a teacher, but that he has a dream to raise a generation of strong allies to prevent isolation from occurring like what had happened to Suguru. He felt guilty about growing apart from him, didn’t see the warning signs before he snapped, and regrets not being there for him more. His entire purpose now is dedicated to making sure the new wave of sorcerers have a tightly-knit network so that no one ends up alone and on a dark path like Suguru.

He constantly sticks his neck out for the helpless even when it’s far from his benefit. He paid off the Zenin clan to save Megumi, the child of the man who ruined his high school years and nearly killed him. He then raised him. He threatened the higher ups to keep Yuuta alive, and then did it again for Yuuji. He does this to preserve their youth, because his own was taken away from him. His whole life he’d been controlled by the higher ups and people around him because of who he is in the sorcerer world, so by waving his own status in front of authority to hold them back from his students, he acts as a sort of shield to take as many burdens off of their shoulders as he can so that they can remain carefree. As much as he can within his power.

With all of that being said, I really don’t understand where Akutami is coming from with lack of depth, but another argument I say to that statement is: well, you’re the author, give him the depth you think he’s missing. (Personally, I believe he’s one of the best-written characters in any anime I’ve seen).

Reason #2 is that according to Akutami, he doesn’t have a likable personality.

What about his personality is unlikable?

He is cocky, but not to the point where he stops caring about others, not to the point where he never considers how other people feel or how his actions affect other people, and not to the point where he never feels guilt and remorse about his shortcomings. Like I said, he lives his life trying to prevent his past from repeating itself, to save the fates of others.

I really don’t get it. In JJK 0, after Nitta gives her report on the shopping mall, Gojo thanks her and praises her. Would a cocky asshole do that? No. If you wanted to characterize him as unlikable, you could have made him dismiss her, or ignore her.

He makes pop culture references, he has endearing flaws like not being good at drawing, being a lightweight drinker, and overdoing it on the sweets. He’s funny, he’s kind, he’s considerate…he is a very likable character.

Honestly, the self-absorption he displays when he’s fighting is probably a result of his upbringing. Being told you have so much power you have so much power you have so much power over and over again instills this belief that yes, he’s needed by Jujutsu Society to fight curses as a weapon. As. A. Weapon. The Six Eyes & Limitless user is a formidable weapon, but what about Satoru Gojo, the person? The only time he feels useful is when he’s fighting curses. That’s where he gets his self-worth. We can see that expressed in this panel, from Chapter 236:

In the second half of Gojo’s second text bubble, he says, “でもどこかで人としてというより生き物としての線引きがあったのかな”.

This translates to: “But I wonder if somewhere there was a line drawn between being a creature rather than a person.”

Rather than having drew the line himself, being constantly treated like the strongest, being handed over the difficult missions, being relied on so heavily pushed him away from other people. It distorted the perception everyone had of him, and it distorted the perception he had of himself. He also believed he could never lose because he let his human side fade into the background. The world didn't need human Satoru Gojo, they needed sorcerer Satoru Gojo, the one who could bend rules to his will with his might, the one who could exorcise any curse and save the day no matter how bad things got. Why would he remain human when that part of him was treated as non-existent? The only person who did treat him as a person with weaknesses and flaws has been dead for eleven years. Of course that voice of reason is going to fizzle out.

How can you possibly vilify him for that? It would be a disservice to everything he has had to endure his entire life.

Reason #3 and the last point I want to touch on is when the article says, "Akutami believes that much of this adoration is based solely on his striking appearance, overshadowing his more abrasive personality traits."

Okay. Where to start?

Honestly, and I know this is probably not Akutami's intention, but that comes off as so condescending. It's so presumptuous. It's as if to say we're all going "ooh look at pretty man, pretty man do no wrong because too pretty" mindlessly with dilated pupils and drool coming out of our mouths. Uh. No.

Yes, Satoru is a good-looking character, but no, that is very far from why we like him so much as a character, and it's also very far from why he's so popular. Aside from all of the points I've made above explaining why he's so universally loved, I'll make another one that isn't superficial and tired.

He's so relatable.

This is a man so incredibly traumatized by his high school years that he is mentally and emotionally unable to move on. Suguru Geto was his very best friend, and for reasons he took too long to understand, chose to abandon their friendship for his own goals. For anyone who has grown apart from a best friend, this hits so hard.

Because of his upbringing it was hard to become close to anyone. But somehow, Suguru was able to break past his walls, and for that, he became entirely too dependent on him. This is common for anyone who finds it hard to make friends and get close to others. Once someone is allowed in, you cling so hard to them and imagine them being there for your entire life. So, when they leave, you take it entirely too personally.

Everyone has a right to live their own lives, and as we see with the divergence of Suguru and Satoru, sometimes our paths aren't leading to the same place. It's not personal. But Satoru took it personal, and that's so beautifully human. When you lose a best friend who was important to you, you think "I like being around this person, they put me at ease in a way no one else does", and you assume they feel the same way about you. So when they leave and show you that no, they didn't feel the same, it hurts. It's almost as if they're saying "I actually do think you're unlovable like everyone else, that's why no one likes you, you are too much."

Someone you thought was safe, isn't anymore.

That is such a relatable thing to watch a character go through! Especially someone as awe-inspiring and charismatic as Gojo! As an audience, we think, "he's just like me!" and we like him for it.

So, as I stated in the title, Gege Akutami, you don't understand Satoru Gojo at all. I commend you for writing such an amazing, iconic, universally loved character, but I will never understand nor respect the superficial way in which you perceive him.

[alonetimelover]

Hi, can I request Heavy Angst that ends in Fluff with 5 word prompt 22 please

"Find someone else to annoy."

pairing: Harry Styles x physicist!reader

summary: Writing a work that would grand you the professor title was harder than YN anticipated. Just like the affect that her antics had on people that she loved, especially Harry. And when the enough was enough some words weren't supposed to be said.

word count: ~1,7k

warnings: angst ending with fluff, workaholism, swearing

a/n: First blurb of the 'blurb weekend'! I am so excited for you to read it and I hope you'll enjoy it. Thank you so so much for requesting!

masterlist taglist blurb weekend prompts

Becoming a professor was harder than one would think. YN laughed at her younger self for believing all the lies that University fed her. Research, nights without a minute of sleep, books whose pages were in four digit numbers and stress. Stress that didn’t only affect her but Harry as well. 

He was on a break. The tour ended, vacation in Italy was almost forgotten and the cosiness and warmness of his home was what he needed. It was the thing that he had most longed for during weeks abroad. But the tension inside the house was thick. And Harry hated it. He was used to YN diving into her studies and not coming downstairs for dinner. He was used to reminding her to take her vitamins, bring her glasses of water or a hot cup of tea. He was used to rather more silent days in the house whenever she was writing a paper, an article. He understood it and was as helpful as he thought he could be. Having in mind all those things, Harry was helpless when YN locked herself in her studies for hours, refusing to open the door or even acknowledge his presence. 

When Harry heard the opening of the doors from downstairs, he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He reached for the remote to take the volume down a little bit. 

“Oh, don’t bother now,” YN said absentmindedly, while entering the open space, leading from upstairs through the living room and straight to the kitchen. 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, scrunching his eyebrows. 

She heaved a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to calm down. But it was all too much. The scented candles that she usually loved, burning on the coffee table were making her dizzy. The lights that were hanging from the cornice that she referred to as ‘anxiety slayers’, were too bright now. The carpeted floor, fuzzy and delicate, was making her feet feel like drowning in sand - she hated sand. And to cover it all, the noise from the TV was blowing apart her eardrums. It was all too much.

“What do I mean?” She scoffed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What do I mean? I don’t know. What could I possibly mean, huh? Let’s think.” 

Harry hated her tone of voice. It was nothing like the normal one. Not the one reserved for him, sweet and full of love. Instead, it was full of hate, annoyance and superiority. 

“Okay, you’re mad about something. Let’s talk about it, lovie.”

Harry patted the place on the couch right next to him, sending YN his warmest smile. It always worked, and not because he was manipulative but because YN always found help and a safe place within Harry. 

“Let’s talk about it!” She mocked, throwing her hands up and down to exaggerate. “I don’t want to talk. I want some peace and quiet. Please, I need space to finish the last pages of my work and I don’t have time for this. Please.” 

It was harsh. And it hurt, but Harry had been nothing but patient and understanding. Had been. All of this started to affect him more than he thought he had let it. Even his patience was wearing off. 

“YN,” Harry sighed, standing up. “I’m sorry about the TV, okay? I’m sorry. I could’ve listened to it on a lower volume. But it’s not only about it. I know you.” 

He really tried to negotiate his way through her right to the centre of it all - her workaholism. Once she got a job to do, it was all she thought, talked and dreamed about from the moment she knew about it to the moment she finished it. And when there was no job, sooner rather than later she was becoming distant and drifting away to just find something else, something new to get into. With that being said, she had never jeopardised her relationships. She never forgot about any important dates, she was included in all birthdays, parties, milestones. She was there for Harry whenever he needed her. It was one of the many things he really admired in her, the one that truly made him amazed by YN. But now, she was forgetting herself. 

“Yeah, sure. I really don’t have time for this, Harry.” 

And with that she moved on to the kitchen. She needed sugar, feeling her head spin from how low her energy levels were. It was no surprise, she was without breakfast and near to no fluids. 

Harry’s blood pressure was very high. He dug his nails into his palms and moved after YN. He had had enough. He could take as much. 

“I suggest you make some time, YN,” he emphasised her name to really show her he meant it. “This has been going on for too long. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t go out of that fuckin’ office unless it’s the bathroom or you feel you’re near passing out from exhaustion. It’s -”

“Oh, fuck off! I’m working! I’m trying to achieve something here and your talk and pretences are making my skin crawl. Just- just find someone else to annoy and leave me alone.” 

YN slammed the fridge’s door, clashing the bottles inside it. Taking the premade (by Harry) iced coffee with herself, she passed Harry with a thought to go back to writing. Her walk was quickly stalled by Harry’s firm but gentle grab of her arm. 

“Caring about you is now called annoying?” He asked, voice a little louder than usually. 

“Get off, Harry,” she gritted through her teeth.

“I won’t. I won’t let you overwork yourself to the point of taking you to the hospital. You want to do too much in too little time.”

YN pursed her lips in anger and broke away from Harry’s grip, spilling some of the coffee on her sweatpants and floor. She cursed. The tipping point found her. 

“There is nothing like ‘too little time’. There is no time, Harry! The paper should be done by the end of the month. And it’s the 21st! It’s just twelve days. And then there’s Professor Smith breathing down my neck and saying that he wants to read the full version before the deadline. Then there’s Madeline and her struggle to find a job. And Manny needing those vet visits so frequently.” She hyperventilated, trying to catch breath. Tears were daring to come down from her glossy eyes. 

“Oh, baby. Take it easy.” 

“I can’t take it easy, okay? I can’t! I can’t lay on the couch and do nothing, I can’t take a bath. I can’t go on a walk. I can’t enjoy dinner. I can’t watch TV. I need- I have to work. I have to finish it.”

Harry’s heart was breaking. The look on YN’s face was making him want to cry. He forgot all the things that bothered him. He ignored all the not so nice words YN said in anger. Now was the moment that she needed him the most. 

“Come here,” he whispered, strolling towards her with open arms. 

“Harry, what are you doing?”

But he didn’t answer. He just embraced her body with his and squeezed lovingly. YN, although confused at first, hugged Harry back immediately melting into him. She really couldn’t see how much destruction she had put herself through. How much pain and stress was sitting upon her shoulders to deal with in the silence of the closed door office. Now, when her body was fitting Harry’s perfectly she remembered that she wasn’t alone. That she didn’t have to deal with it all by herself. 

Perhaps Harry didn’t know much about physics, especially quantum mechanics, singularity and black holes. But he was there to listen. He was there to propose another way to bite the bullet, to expand her point of view. He could listen to her quoting Hawking and Cox, fangirling over her favourite scientists wanting to be a part of her thesis all the time. There was nothing better than seeing her feeling fulfilled and content. 

“I love you so much, I can’t let you destroy yourself right in front of my eyes.” 

He kissed her head, squeezing her body even closer to his. 

“I’m so sorry,” YN whispered through sobs. 

She felt awful. It was the first fight where she lost control and she hoped it was the last, because she hated each and every moment of it. She wouldn’t be able to let herself forget how uncalled for and hurtful she was towards Harry. 

“I am so sorry, Harry.”

“Shhh. It’s okay. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Now, we’re taking a bath. No vetoes. And then I am making dinner for you while you’re sitting here at the counter looking pretty like always. After that we’re watching the British Bake-Off and going to sleep. You need at least 8 hours of sleep, baby. You don’t have that even if I add in all the hours from the whole week,” Harry listed all the activities he knew YN enjoyed whenever she was stressed. 

“How do you know I didn’t sleep through the night?” She asked, looking up at him. 

Harry caressed her cheek delicately and pecked her lips. 

“I can’t sleep when you’re not next to me. I got so used to your body being so close to mine I just wake up whenever you’re getting up. Then there was the light from the office creeping through the gap between the floor and the door. You fell asleep in my arms and an hour later were sitting behind the desk writing. I noticed, baby.”

“Oh, God. I am so sorry. I didn’t realise I was waking you up, love. I - I don’t even have an excuse.”

“You don’t need one. It’s okay.” He kissed her lips once again. “Let me take care of you, yeah? I’m gonna go run the bath and you choose some pyjamas for us both.” 

YN nodded her head, her small smile was not reaching her eyes. 

“Don’t overthink the situation. I’m being truthful with you, and promising that we’ll talk about what happened today tomorrow. Now, you need some relaxation to take your mind out of the office. Just be here with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Harry wiped her tears away and kissed the way they had been falling down. Now, YN’s smile was beaming from her eyes as well as her upturned lips. 

“You really are the best thing that happened in my life.” 

Harry laughed, taking her hand in his and directing her upstairs. 

“Well, I would hope so. After all, you agreed to marry me.”

[petercapaldi-press]

ARTICLE/WRITING

My week: Peter Capaldi

Sun 31 Dec 2006 03.20 CET

Driven on by the spirit of Hemingway and van Gogh, the star of The Thick of It ponders his life and even tries some clothes shopping. Thwarted at every turn, he finally finds comfort in YouTube

Having been asked to do this My Week diary, I seek guidance and ask The Observer for an example - maybe last year's column for the same period, because the festive week is, after all, an odd one in which nothing much really happens work-wise. But how wrong I am. Stephen Daldry's dizzying account of last year has him jetsetting from opening to opening while trying to avoid the ever-growing pile of film scripts that threatens to entomb him.

Well, I could say that Christmas in LA was a bit lonely, so thank god for Helen Mirren's annual do, which, sadly, I left in disgrace after drinking too much and blocking her sink with chunky barf, but I'm afraid I can't because it's just not true. It was Christmas in north London, as usual, which I spent shuffling around supermarkets, fretting about my spectacular weight gain and drinking at every conceivable opportunity.

The family takes a festive trip to the theatre to see Stomp, a show we feel we've discovered, a mere 15 years after everyone else. It's a great show, with a lot going for it. Including no actors. Which is a relief, as, at this time of year, the theatres are full of the RSC's finest, insisting on letting us know that yes, although they are indeed, very, very serious actors, they are also very, very funny ones too. Instead, it's just a lot of Australian-looking people banging things off of each other and making as much noise as possible.

It does cross my mind that I've paid a small fortune for this racket when I could just have gone into any one of my local cafes and listened to all the toddlers banging their Cybermen's heads off the tables.

When I first came to London, I loved hanging around in cafes, smoking, scribbling, dreaming. It was life-affirming and fun. Like Stomp. But Big Cappuccino has turned the humble frothy coffee into something else.

Today, once I'd bought my medium-sized bowl of coffee and struggled to a seat through the gridlock of baby buggies the size of Humvees, something nasty happened. As I opened my moleskin notebook cum sketchpad ('as used by Ernest Hemingway and Vincent van Gogh' as the blurb tells me) to get down to some serious work on my latest film no one will make, I momentarily looked up to see, dotted between the strung-out mothers, a lot of other guys momentarily looking up from their moleskin notebooks cum sketchpads, all of whom look almost identical to me, down to the big, stupid Charles Saatchi-type glasses. I'm consumed by self-loathing.

I'm a big, well-read fan of van Gogh, but I've never come across any mention of the moleskin notebook cum sketchpad in any of his biogs. And given that he was so very poor and unsuccessful, how could he afford one? Perhaps it's in one of the more obscure letters to his brother Theo: 'Could you get me one of those moleskin notebooks cum sketchpads? Gauguin had one and it looked really cool; he said there's a shop down Montmartre where they do them a bit cheaper. Can you get me one with the storyboard frames in it because if things don't work out as an artist, I might go into commercials.' And since when did a notebook need a blurb?

I'm clothes shopping in Selfridges. On my own. (Something I do very rarely on account of being organised enough, some years ago, to marry a woman who does it all for me.) Which is dangerous, as I often make very big mistakes, thinking I can 'carry off' something when I can't. Like when I bought the Vivienne Westwood combo of sexy high-waisters and 70s style tank-top.

So I'm nervous. The shop assistants don't help as they are all doing some retro ironic John Inman thing or being Russell Brand. There is so much stuff here. Most of the world has nothing, so what's all this doing here? I'm getting sweaty and can feel the air heating up inside my trouser legs, so it's time to go.

Euston Station. Our nephew has been staying with us for a week, but now it's time for him to go back to Scotland. It's taken me years to realise that when I say 'back to Scotland', our English friends visualise us in a Hogwartsy Highland landscape, knocking about a vaguely industrialised version of Greyfriar's Bobby, exchanging knowing folksy banter with the Proclaimers.

I once worked with an actress who was both the star of an American soap opera and a member of a European royal family (work that one out) who, upon hearing I came from Scotland, asked me how many sheep I had. Our truth is more nicotine coloured, featuring high-rise blocks, decaying steel towns, alcohol and pasty-faced youths in thin sports gear.

Aeryn is 14 and comes from a 'village' near Glasgow. He's bright and clever and has done very well to survive the Joshes and Berties and Lilys he's been thrown in with recently, not least because of the great support of our daughter, Cissy. But now it's time for him to go.

This station, this journey, has been part of our life for years, especially my wife, Elaine, who has spent increasing time in these trains and stations delivering loving and dutiful care to her dad. Bill died seven weeks ago. My dad, Gerry, died just last year. We have family and friends up there who we will continue to see, but as the numbers diminish, so the balance of duty and connection tips away from the place. And you realise that there will come a time when there's very little to take you there any longer.

Christmas is delightful. Great gifts. I get copies of Ridley Scott storyboards from Blade Runner which make this old movie geek very happy, and The Mighty Boosh Live, as requested, from Cissy. See pals, eat and drink lots. I'm very content.

Then we move into the hinterlands that lead to New Year's Eve. We always make a big thing of celebrating New Year's Eve because of our deep Celtic tradition and love of alcohol.

But before then, a bit of a breather from the festivities and the chance to be passed from call centre to call centre trying to get my daughter's broken mobile fixed. I end up at Motorola with some Northern Irish guy who is really pissed off (surely that's my job?). It's all made worse by the fact that he's venting his spleen at me entirely tonally - politely phrased but full of contempt. Now that's cruel. Anyway, I keep my cool. But he gets the last word, tonally. However Motorola loses my business.

I've been working on an episode of Tales of the Unexpected for ITV and have not met one person who didn't think it was a great idea to bring the series back. But I delivered that a week ago and since then have done nothing but eat and drink. Repulsed by my idleness, I decide it's time for action and get down to some serious fretting about my acting career. I'm sure Michael Sheen must be spending his week working on an uncanny portrayal of Rod Hull and Emu or someone while I'm just sitting around growing breasticles.

I blame it on YouTube. It's too good. I love the one of that guy getting sucked into a jet engine plus anything to do with Christopher Walken. But today, I ended up spending two hours watching dozens of videos of guys playing along to the guitar solo from 'Stairway to Heaven' at various levels of competence. Best two hours I've spent in years.

And better than most I've spent in the theatre. I'm sure if Shakespeare were alive today, he'd be doing classic guitar solos on YouTube.

The Thick Of It Special, Tues, BBC 4, 10.30pm

The Life: Born in Glasgow 1958. Studied painting and illustration at the Glasgow School of Art . Married to Elaine; daughter Cissy.

The Work: As an actor, many film and TV appearances, including Local Hero, Dangerous Liaisons, Magicians on TV, Prime Suspect, Peep Show, The Crow Road, Aftersun, Pinochet's Progress, The Thick of It. Wrote and directed the feature film Strictly Sinatra and Oscar-and Bafta-winning short Franz Kafka's It's a Wonderful Life

[ladylooch]

What's It Gonna Be? [Mack X David]

A/N: The ask for this blurb disappeared.... what is up with inboxes right now? My stuff disappears on the reg. Idk maybe it is too full. ANYWAYS, the original ask was something along the lines of: When is the next time David and Mack interact after the kiss. So here it is...

The day after their kiss is the first time she hears from Davey outside of a Lucie and Connor interaction. 

Mack is running on the treadmill in her building gym, just about to hit her highest ascent before beginning her cool down. She startles at Siri beginning to read off an unknown number into her AirPods, then her robotic voice shrills out “Hi Mackncheese.” Mack grabs the edges of the treadmill to stay upright. She slaps the stop button, then gradually lets the treadmill die off. 

You decide yet honey 🍯

Mack’s breathing is labored from her 4 mile run along with her surprise at hearing from him. How did he even get her number? She pushes her sweaty hair back into her ponytail, then grabs her phone. She opens her messages, reading his texts over again as a bubble signals he has more to say. She waits, anticipation clinging to her skin like sweat.

Would be so good to ya...

Mack absentmindedly grazes her lips with the tips of her fingers. His kiss left her discombobulated and speechless last night. She has little doubt that David Carlson knows how to treat a woman in the way he is insinuating. But he doesn't need to know that.

You’re confident of that? Mack decides to type back.

The bubble pops up again. 

Wanna play show and tell? All you gotta do is say yes.

Mack smiles down at her phone as she gets off the treadmill. She missteps and falls down. From her back, she closes her eyes in deep embarrassment. Good lord, this man has her all out of sorts. She needs to get her shit together. From her resting place, she sends him a single Emoji: 🤷🏻‍♀️

Hey, I'll take it for today. It’s not a no.

He has sent one text a day since then, all with the same sexy inquisitiveness. Now, it’s Wednesday and Mack finds herself scrolling back into those messages, scanning them over again while lounging on Lucie and Connor's couch.

Make up your mind yet baby? Bed is getting mighty lonely.

You still got that bikini from your Maldives article? Would love to see it in person.

When do you wanna come over? Got this great spot for you to sit on… 

Mackncheese, your time is running out. What have you decided?

The last one was from today and Mack still doesn’t have an answer for him. She is still attempting to catch up with these new feelings for him. She’s tried to reason the feelings away, insist they aren’t there, smother them out, but nothing is working. She finally had to come to the conclusion that they were real and she needed to sort them out before anything went further. 

David is everything Mack thought she hated in men. He is decisive, rugged, fights people on the ice, sarcastic as hell, and his endless teasing makes her eye twitch on the regular. She likes soft men. Men who read poetry and appreciate the arts and don’t mind sitting in a coffee shop for hours on end. David always has to be doing something. He’s either running around with Stella or helping Lucie in the kitchen or looking over Mack’s shoulder while she tries to formulate the outline for her next article. He’s too much and worst of all, he never lets Mack fade into the background when he is around. 

This would never work. 

Except, he’s the only one who sees her, clearly and unflinchingly. 

“Auntie? Can I have McDonald’s for dinner?” Mack blinks to come out of her thoughts.

“Your mom has chicken nuggets for you.”

“Yeah, gluten free.” Stella whines. “I want the crispy ones from McDonald’s.” Mack looks at her standing there, contemplating. Lucie didn’t say they couldn’t go out for dinner. She just said there was chicken nuggets in the freezer. If Mack’s being honest, McDonald’s chicken nuggets with buffalo and ranch sound really good.

“Only if you say I’m your favorite aunt.”

“You’re my favorite aunt.”

“You like me better than Uncle Lee?”

“No!” Stella laughs, then bites her lip, little shoulders quaking up and down. 

“What! You are such a stinker, Stell!” Mack laughs. 

“He brings McDonalds without me asking. Just shows up with it!” 

“We call that a suck up. He is buying your love.”

“And it’s working.” Mack claps her hand over her chest and howls with laughter. Stella is such a hoot. She always knows how to make Mack laugh.

“Let’s go sassy pants. Get some boots on, it was snowing earlier.”

Mack and Stella bundle up for the three walk block down the street to grab french fries, chicken nuggets, and a Sprite for each of them. Mack opens the door to let them out. They both startle when they see a tall figure on the other side of the door, fist raised, poised to knock. Stella catches on first.

“Davey!” Stella yells excitedly, launching into him. She headbutts him directly in the junk and he coughs out in pain. 

“Ooo. Hi Stell.” He says tightly, hand coming to grip himself over his zipper. “Ow.” He hisses air in through his teeth.

“Maybe you shouldn’t hover in people’s doorways.” Mack shrugs, stepping out of the apartment. She turns with the key, flipping the lock then turns back to the hallway. Mack gasps at how tightly David is crowding her space. She has to tilt her head all the way back to see his face.

“Got an answer for me?” He whispers, lips poised only a foot from her lips. She drags her top teeth over bottom lip. Her chest puffs out, feeling dizzy at the assault of his scent and masculine energy hovering over her.

“Is that why you’re here?” She wonders.

“No, I’m here to watch Stell.” He smirks, thinking it's cute that she thinks he came up to bug her.

“I’m here watching Stell? Lucie and Connor left an hour ago.” He furrows his brows in confusion, mustache pursing out with his top lip. He tilts his head to the side.

“Oh…” He trails off, then looks over his shoulder at Stella. “I guess you win again, Mackncheese.” 

“What? A night of watching TV dictated by a child? Lucky me.” He chuckles. 

“Over-under on how many times you’re watching the Little Mermaid?”

“I’m taking the under.” She laughs, then puts the keys in her purse. David shoves his hands in his worn, jean pockets, still not giving her much space. He is dressed in an olive green sweater that highlights the deepness of his emerald eyes.

“Where you going?” He asks.

“McDonalds!!!” Stell yells, coming back up to them. “You can come with us!”

“Oh… he probably has other-"

“Sweet! What are we getting?!” David answers before Mack can finish. She sighs heavily. Now that Stella is involved, there is no way David is not coming.

“Chicken nuggets!”

“Chicken nuggets?! Is that all you eat!? Gonna stunt your growth? Gonna be like the little runt piglets on my farm."

“Yeah!” She cheers, then slides her little hand in his big paw. “Go, go, go!”

She forces her body almost completely forward trying to pull him. He grips her tighter to keep her upright, then begins to walk. Mack stands there, dumbfounded at what is happening. How does he get invited along to everything? She watches her niece skip excitedly down to the elevator with David, admiring the way his strong arm easily supports and monitors every leap of Stella into the air. When she stumbles once, he catches her completely, like a constant safety net.They’re all the way to the elevator before they notice she isn’t with them.

“What’s it gonna be Mack?” David asks.

Mack knows he is talking about more than this McDonald’s run.

[love-belle]

1k celebration !!!

difficult ༊*·˚

in which i write a one shot based on a storyline you sent. ( example - "charles leclerc with ex!reader where she's close with his family even after their break up and it leads to them getting back together )

i miss you, i'm sorry ༊*·˚

in which i write a small blurb based on your scenario/prompts with your chosen driver. ( example - "you're the best thing i've ever had" with daniel ricciardo )

full machine ༊*·˚

in which i write a social media au with the situation and driver of your choice. ( example - engagement announcement with lewis hamilton )

block me out ༊*·˚

in which i add onto your random headcanons for a driver ( example - "i feel like lando would hate your cat at first but he'll eventually warm up to it" + my take on that )

camden ༊*·˚

in which i become your friend as i answer random asks. anything, from irrelevant gossip to rants about stuff or about my already written stories or if you'd just like to talk to me or be a mutual, anything.

mess it up ༊*·˚

in which i write an angsty one shot/blurb/social media au based on your angsty prompt/scenario with a driver of your choice. ( example - carlos doesn't want to tell everyone else that you're both together and you feel like he's ashamed of you )

the bottom ༊*·˚

in which i make false twitter posts/threads about an incident/situation/prompt/scenario with a driver you choose. ( example - "toto wolff and actress!reader dating and paparazzi catch them", so i'll be writing the fans reaction and the articles and all in twitter posts )

≡;- ꒰ °i will be writing for ꒱

charles leclerc ༉‧₊˚.

max verstappen ༉‧₊˚.

daniel ricciardo ༉‧₊˚.

lewis hamilton ༉‧₊˚.

lando norris ༉‧₊˚.

pierre gasly ༉‧₊˚.

toto wolff ༉‧₊˚.

sebastian vettel ༉‧₊˚.

mick schumacher ༉‧₊˚.

ollie bearman ༉‧₊˚.

arthur leclerc ༉‧₊˚.

author's note - holy shit this feels so unbelievable like i started this account just over a month ago and i have more than a THOUSAND people following me like that's crazy. i just wanna say that thank you so much, i love you so bad actually.

i have never done a celebration before, so hopefully i'll do this right. for the time being, i will be putting my usual requests on hold, just as along as the celebration is going but i may post one or two if i get time, i don't really know. you can spam my inbox with as many asks as you want, i absolutely don't mind. or if you wanna message me directly, you can do that too. thank you so much, i'm so excited for this.

you can find my works here !!!

ps - i'm also gonna start working on a taglist so, if you want to be added to it, please send me an ask or reply to this post or message me directly.

[greenleaf4stuff]

I saw you're up for asks!

I've just finished The Silmarillion and wondered what your favoruite part is?

How do you develop your story ideas?

What are you most looking forward to in RoP season 3?

Hi @ultrarebelheart and thank you so much for your questions! :D <3 Sorry that this took me a bit, I was busier than anticipated! Due to the (somewhat) lengthy answers, I will put two of them behind a cut to protect people's dashboards. ^_^'

What are you most looking forward to in RoP season 3?

Considering I am an Adar fan, I am both very interested in and apprehensive about whether or not they will give any more focus to the uruk under Sauron's leadership. And whether the "orcs" will end up being a faceless mass/simple "cannon fodder", or if the writers will let them retain some agency and personality at least.

I found s1 and s2's efforts to humanize the uruk incredibly compelling, and I see Adar especially as a welcome new addition to Tolkien's universe, so I hope that won't get completely left behind in s3.

(Additionally, I am still hoping we might get more insights into Adar and his life in whatever fashion. I don't care if it's a fool's hope, I would love to see him return, his character is so very interesting.)

I also cannot help but be curious about which humans Sauron will choose for the Nine, and whether or not we will get to see Númenor defeat him in battle/see him start his shenanigans in Númenor in S3 already. Another thing I'd love to see are Elrond and the beginnings of Rivendell.

How do you develop your story ideas?

Oh that is such a good question - there's two different ways that work for me. For the first one, I usually start with some kind of base idea. A prompt, a trope, a type of interaction, a scene, something that pops into my head or I find compelling. Inspiration can come from all manner of sources; the media I write for itself, prompt lists, tropes, stuff from other pieces of media.

I then write the idea down - a bit like a blurb, just a very basic outline so I won't accidentally forget it, and maybe I will also make some additional bullet points for specific scenes, interactions and the likes. (Sometimes that is already enough to get me writing.)

Strangely enough, I usually manage to include a somewhat-coherent plot into most of my bigger ideas even at that point.

If the idea stays with me and gets to marinade in my head (so to speak), I will usually go back and add more and more onto it, and eventually expand the blurb into a proper step-by-step outline about what I would like to see in the story, whether it is a one-shot or a multi-chapter work.

The other way is that I get completely blindsided with an idea and just start writing, without a plan or any preparation, as has happened with my last few fanfics. For the long one ("Of Convenience"), I eventually had enough time to come up with a basic idea for future scenes (after chapter 4 or 5 I believe) and where I wanted things to lead to, but the start was just completely improvised. This works best for single scenes, drabbles and one-shots I find.

I hope that answers the question? :D

I've just finished The Silmarillion and wondered what your favourite part is?

That is awesome, congrats, I hope you enjoyed the book? Full disclosure, most of the Silm-related information that I make use of is from wikis, articles, meta pieces, videos/video essays or excerpts. I have the book at home and supposedly read in full when I was a child, but - I cannot remember any of it, for some reason. I usually read up the parts that (hopefully) help me understand TROP better or that I might need for stories, or watch videos about interesting topics.

That being said, due to TROP, I am getting more and more interested in Celebrimbor's story and am also trying to learn more about the geography of Arda, specifically the places where Morgoth and/or Sauron resided (and Adar would have).

(Sorry if that is a really disappointing answer! ^_^')

[covenofagatha]

also i realised i didnt mention this in my last ask but i read the next chapter of Do I wanna Know and ARRRGHHHHHHHHHHH. i was so very frustrated at both agatha and reader, had me waving my fist at the screen like these damn gays.. but i am very very excited for the prospects that come with the distance... long distance toys and phone sex hello! your writing was truly a delight to read and i loved every word <3

(your reward will come soon! i am most definitely thinking of something because i think you might like to know that the reason i left in the middle of my gathering with friends was because i saw your notification and got so wet i had to change underwear. mortifying and i blame you wholeheartedly 🙄 /lh)

i actually.... don't know what half the shows/movies you mentioned are, oops. not sure what succession or Come on are at all but maybe I'll check them out! but i see you share mine (and Wanda's) love for sitcoms haha. my current favourite is abbott elementary (like the office/parks and rec but for public elementary school teachers, was really eye opening for me but its also pretty funny + lisa ann walter is really pretty) and if you'd consider anything else i recommend arcane! if not for the adorable lesbians then because even as a non psych student I'm interested in the mental state of a lot of the characters, you might be as well lol

linguistics is a lot of different branches! doing a general study of it now before i go the specialised route, but essentially if you compare it to literature etc where it's how the words connect to the theme, linguistics is rather how the words are strung together to reflect the author's socio-cultural environment or something. besides that there's how languages are formed and why, but my interest lies in modern sociolinguistics! I'm focusing on things like slang (i have lots of blurbs in my notebook about slang i hear thrown around online and irl help) and also the ins of communication in video games (I wrote a subpar article and all). it might interest you when i tell you that i had a tiny inkling you were an american psych student based on the way you use english (both in your fics and in replies), but that's for me to celebrate my small victories!

if it makes you feel any better about yours, my interests get inherently worse when you realise it reflects a cishet man (shudder).. i go to the gym, get agitated at my computer games, and run away from people who look my way 😭 I'm doing alright (starting my day off strong by replying to people on the internet while waiting for the train) and i hope you are as well! rest up (and if you reply this in the morning, then good morning and have a great day ahead) 💜

sorry for filling your inbox, a con of being a linguistics student is that not only do we never know when to shut up, but we also make our replies unnecessarily long. now, to leave you with your mandatory questions! as always, no need to reply to anything you're uncomfortable :

do you prefer writing sub!reader or dom!reader (not sure about your own preferences because I know writing is different from feeling oops) you mentioned switching it up in your head so i wonder which one you're more comfortable with and if there's a particular reason for it, lol. in turn I'll ask you what's psych like, because i wouldn't dare to touch the module with a 5 feet stick lol. and for the fun of it, what's your favourite/common food you eat? never mentioned you were vegetarian/vegan etc, so I'm curious too.

-lots of love, worm anon

I am SO excited to write more of "Do I wanna know" and we are definitely in for some feels (but also a lot more sex)

Whoops 😅 guess I'll accept full responsibility for that

And omg I cannot believe I forgot Abbott Elementary I absolutely LOVE that show (and yes lisa ann walter is so hot) I have not seen arcane but it has been recommended by others so I might have to check it out

I love finding out how people perceive me so I'd love to know what about my writing pointed to american psych major lol and linguistics sounds very cool do you have something you want to do with that and theater?

I am still up (watching the Super Bowl and absolutely loving the way the eagles are smoking the chiefs) but hopefully you're having a good day

Hmm honestly I prefer writing sub!reader (I've seen a lot of people saying that they're the opposite of reader or they don't relate or whatever but I definitely do) but I absolutely love your portrayal of top!reader and bottom!agatha so keep 'em coming if you'd like (I'm also getting super into desperate Agatha losing control so I don't really know where that falls into things)

Psych is pretty fun! I really like learning about disorders and theories for that and it's super fun to learn why people think the way they do

I am not vegan or vegetarian and my favorite foods are probably pizza and steak...what about you?

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

If you're not comfortable writing this that's completely okay

Can I request Eddie with an FTM Reader boyfriend who has really bad cramps and he's dysphoric because he's on his period, and Eddie tries his best to help?

This could go from cuddles to "sex helps with cramps right?" With a sprinkle of breeding kink?

Again if you're uncomfortable, I understand

Hi, thanks for the request and your patience. I feel really touched that you feel safe enough to come with me for this request! As a note, I am not a trans man and thus, my depiction of this event will not be fully accurate. If there is anything that I have portrayed inaccurately, please let me know and I’ll be happy to correct it and learn more. I am completing this request in the hopes to allow others to be seen and to create more space for trans people in the community. 

Disclaimer: Some of what has been portrayed in this blurb is based off the interviews and research conducted in the article, “Queering Menstruation: Trans and Non-Binary Identity and Body Politics” by Sarah Frank. I recognize one article is not enough to get a full picture of an entire community. But I hope there is something that this fic gets right for folks and that it expands this conversation even just a tiny bit. 

CW: This request does deal with periods and feelings of dysphoria. If that triggers you, please do not read. Seriously--don’t do it. There is a read more higher up than I usually do to accommodate. 

Eddie Munson x Trans!Male Reader. Reader is 20.

Send me a request here! Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, POC too).

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

_____________________________________

There is a cruelty to it all--you’re sure of it. As you’re curled up under the sheets, back of your hands wiping at your cheeks, you are sure that this has to fall under the stark definition of cruel and unusual punishment. The worst part of it all is that it’s not unusual. One week out of every month--it’s supposed to be natural and yet, something about it hangs like an anvil ready to take your head. Maybe it’s the language--what you grew up around. Maybe it’s more than that, maybe it will always be more than that. But the inescapable fact of your reality is that you are here--curled up under sheets. 

To make matters worse, the cramps are horrible this time. So much so you puked at work and got sent up. It’s a reminder of a simple fact: this body isn’t really yours. Not yet anyway. This body is not doing everything you wish it wouldn’t. This body still doesn’t show who you really are. But you’re carrying it around, all 206 bones, all twenty feet of small intestines, fingers, toes, elbows, eyeballs. You’re carrying around a body that still mocks you for an entire week out of the month. Twelve weeks in a year. Much too long to suffer and too many times to feel like the butt of a cruel twisted joke. 

“Baby?”

You turn your head, pulling it up off the pillow just enough to see Eddie’s head peeking in through the door. His eyes are still big, wet, and bright even in streaks of daylight behind the partially open curtains. “Hi,” you whisper. Your voice is thick and rough--probably from the lack of water. 

“How-how can I help?”

It’s like Eddie knows. You rest your head back onto your pillows and let out a sigh. “I-” you start, and then stop hearing how your voice catches in your throat. When you blink, tears fall down your eyes, along the apple of your cheek down to your ears. “Don’t know,” you conclude.

Eddie’s careful and quiet as he approaches. The bed dips and you can hear him shucking off the layers. He doesn’t unravel you from your sheets. Instead, he curls one arm around your waist and rest his cheek against yours. There’s some scruff, no doubt from the couple of days that have lapsed since his last shave. 

The thought lights your chest on fire. It’s a soothing tactile sensation. You wish you could bury it pores of your skin. You want turn, face Eddie better and when you go to plant your feet, a sharp zing of pain runs from your spine to your stomach. The movements are paused and you bury your head in your pillow before the shaky shout climbs out of your chest. The frustration--sadness and fear intertwined as well--bubble up and out of your lips into the pillow. Eddie’s arm squeezes around your waist. “Hey,” his voice is soft against your cheek. “Hey, I got you, sweet boy. It’s okay.”

He means well. You know he does. You try to focus on the soft and steady pass of Eddie’s palm over your stomach. It’s reassuring just a little. It lets you know you’re not physically alone. 

“There’s gotta be something I can do. Tea? I think I can be trusted not to burn down a kitchen to fix some tea. Hot compress?” Eddie’s fingers find your chin, sliding up to your cheek. He wipes away some of the fresh tears that have fallen. “Please,” he whispers. 

You can’t tell if he’s pleading with you or some unfathomable force of the universe. You hope whoever is out there listens. 

“I don’t know if I can move right now,” you whisper out shakily. “I’m not even sure I’m thinking at all.”

“Greg said he had to send you home. Said you puked.”

You nod. “I did.”

“You take anything yet for the cramps?”

The words makes your skin crawl, and you try not to react physically to it. “I fell asleep once I got home. I think I got crackers and ginger ale down.”

The bed shifts again. Eddie’s warmth leaves your back and side with the shift. There’s a crinkle somewhere to the left of you. “If this is a fresh sleeve, you only got a couple down.”

“Sounds about right,” you hum. 

“Did you keep it down?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Eddie’s hair greets you before he does, some wisps of the ends falling around your nose. “You stay here. Don’t move a muscle and I’ll be back in a minute okay?”

“Okay.” That much you can do. 

You can only listen to the shuffle. The bathroom door cracks open, the medicine cabinet clicking open. There's a rattle and you're pretty positive that it’s Eddie grabbing some meds. There’s more clicking. The light from the hallway dims and then Eddie’s shadows pass along the walls. He’s further now from you, probably in the kitchen. You listen and listen and listen. 

“Can you do me a solid?” Eddie asks. 

You catch his body halfway hanging inside the room as he rests his weight against the wall and the door. “Depends.”

“Ah, there he is. But what’s your favorite mug?”

Your brows furrow at the question. “I-I don’t have a favorite mug.”

“Nonsense. You have to have that one mug or cup that if you drink something out of it it just tastes better. Now c’mon cough if up.”

You laugh--not that you really want to, but because the question is so ridiculously Eddie that you can’t help it. “Uh, there’s a mug from my trip to Arizona that I really like.”

“Got it, Arizona mug. Thank you, lovebug.” Eddie’s gone again, you watch him disappear this time. 

“Arizona mug does have a nice ring to it,” you mutter to yourself. You blink your gaze over to the alarm clock to check the time. It’s just before 4. You got sent home from work around 11 this morning. 

Eddie has a ritual--comes by your job after work and hang out until the end of your shift, usually around 4:30. You two usually head to someone’s place--his or yours. There’s some TV or a rental if you two didn’t get to it over the weekend. Usually you play a game with Eddie---he barters with you about helping with dinner and you tell him he has to complete at least two homework assignments. It always ends with you letting him do some of the prep if it’s more involved and then you taking over at the end. 

And it means today, Eddie went to your job, probably worried about the lack of your car being there and then came racing to your place once your boss let Eddie know you’d been sick at work. You hope it wasn’t too bad of a scare. There was no way for you to get the information to him while he was in school that wouldn’t cause him to skip. Maybe it’s selfish. But if you’re honest, you just couldn’t deal. You didn’t want to verbalize it. Thankfully, you hadn’t to fully. 

You’re sure after the first two waves of this, Eddie can put the pieces together. You’re grateful that he’s giving you the grace. But you know you have to push yourself up soon. It’s going to suck. You hope you don’t vomit again when you do. If only could have a body that didn’t hate you. 

You take a deep breathe--inhaling in through your nose and then pushing it all out through slightly parted lips. “Just to the bathroom. It’s okay.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to move a muscle?”

“I-it’s just I gotta go to the bathroom.”

Eddie nods, a hum leaving his throat. “Not before some meds.” You nod, taking the few pills from him and swallow it down without taking the cup of water. “Metal,” he snorts in return. 

“I try to when I can. Can you help me up please?”

“Of course, yeah.” Eddie sets the mug, denoting the stop in Phoenix, Arizona, and scoops you up from your seated position. 

“I am a full human being, you know, right? A grown man, thank you,” You huff, allowing Eddie to carry you to the bathroom. It’s a little shaky at first, but he gets you there. 

“Just because you have a tax paying job does not mean you get to boast about it.” 

“It’s not like I’m making the big bucks, or anything.”

“It’s something. A job someone has to do.”

“Riveting work it is to be a line cook,” you snort. The two of you cross the threshold into the bathroom then. Before Eddie sets you down, you bury your face in his shoulder. You want to tell yourself it’s okay. But it doesn’t feel okay. Nothing feels okay. “Just one more second.”

“Take all the seconds you need.”

You don’t need to tell Eddie that if you wait too long you’re probably bleed all over him. But you highly doubt he’d care. But it’s already awful enough dealing with the period by itself, you don’t think you’d have the mental capacity to handle ruining Eddie’s clothes and yours at the same time. 

You inhale--the musk of Eddie’s cigarettes, cheap cologne, the slight twinge of sweat from P.E. no doubt and try to still the racing thoughts. Just a few more days. But that’s just for now. Then there will be a next time. “Fuck this!” you huff.

“I’ve got something else you can fuck that’s for sure,” Eddie snorts. 

You huff a life, nothing serious, but it’s just enough. Eddie kisses your temple. You take another inhale and then nod. “I’m okay.”

It’s not without a grunt and the crack of a knee that Eddie sets you down. “Good God,” you tease. “You’re getting old.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie laughs. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you have something I can fuck.”

Eddie’s touch on your cheek is tender. “I do. I always do, but only if you want it.”

“Such a gentleman,” you coo. You mean it to come out with some bite, but it comes out gooey like melting chocolate from your throat. 

“Only when you deserve it,” Eddie snarks. “I save it for special occasions.”

“Like you don’t look at me like I’ve hung the stars when you have sex.”

“While that may be true!” Eddie huffs, cheeks turning red. “Fucking sue me for loving my boyfriend, okay? God. Now, I’m going to leave. And you only need to shout if you need me okay.”

You nod in response. “I love you too, Eds.”

Eddie’s grin lights up his whole face, like it always does. Watching him smile feels like you’re basking in a ray of the sun. It warms you top to bottom, and you’re never really able to stare him directly in the face, lest it blind you. He presses another kiss to your lips. “Now, all offers are still on the table once you’re done. I’ve read orgasms help with cramps.”

“Maybe once the meds dull some of this.”

“Sounds delicious. I await with bated breaths.” Eddie’s steps take him over the threshold, hands locked aroun the door handle. “But seriously, holler if you need me, okay?”

You nod, a soft affirmative falling from your lips. The door slips shut. You wait a beat, then two. You pop the doors to the under sink cabinet, grab what you need and then watch the door again. “Holler,” you state. Nothing louder than your usual volume and the door cracks open. 

Eddie’s face peers around the crack. “Yes, baby?”

“Just missed you,” you return. That and you’re trying to ground yourself again, remind yourself you’re on Earth. 

“Missing you too. You good?”

“Yeah, I’ll be done in a second.”

He nods, backs out of the crack and then shuts the door again. “I was thinking though, like, there’s a really cool mug in the cabinets you got. It’s a Scooby Doo mug. And I’m thinking there’s no way the Arizona mug is your favorite. I mean, Scooby Doo is right there.”

You’re still on Earth--and whatever that meant you weren’t sure. But you’re glad to be Earthside with Eddie. Poised with the pad in hand, you sigh. “Eddie, you cannot berate my mug choices while I’m sitting on the toilet. Didn’t Wayne tell you to never kick a man while he’s down?”

Eddie’s laughter floats in through the crack under the door.

[everygame]

Merry Christmas From Melbourne House (Commodore 64) Developed/Published by: Melbourne House Released: 1984 Completed: 11/12/2023 Completion: Beat it with a score of 100 out of 100.

It’s 1984 and the Christmas cash-in market is finally mature, with five whole games released for home computers (at the very least.) Alphabetically first in my list (because Icon Software chose to go with “Xmas” on their merry release) Merry Christmas From Melbourne House is a slight��cheat because it’s really just a tiny tech demo/bit of marketing, but it was sold, costing 95p (the price of tape duplication and postage?) for readers of Commodore User (it was actually in the December issue and the deadline was December 17th to get your money to them, which makes me wonder how many people played this long after things stopped being festive.)

It is though, honestly, what I was kind of expecting from A Christmas Adventure. It’s a short, very easy little adventure game that… passes about half an hour and actually manages to feel Christmassy. 

Like A Christmas Adventure, you’re tasked with making sure Santa can get away from the north pole to deliver presents, but in a shocking twist… YOU are Santa. The game’s blurb claims he’s “attempting to stop an industrial dispute” that “is threatening the delivery of toys to children of the world” and it sounds like jolly old saint nick is a fat cat like the rest of ‘em, and out of solidarity with the elves and workers everywhere I spent quite a bit of time typing things like “GIVE ELVES RAISE” and “PROVIDE TIME OFF” but the parser never understood it, so I almost didn’t finish this.

The plot is a bit oversold anyway, considering the solution is pretty much “Get off your fat arse and pack your sack of toys yourself, Santa.”

As you’re not doing all that much, the parser is adequate, and the graphics are… genuinely quite evocative. They are important too–the toys you have to pack are all on one screen. I don’t generally like this design in graphic text adventures–where you don’t get told everything in text (I’m a VERBOSE man in Infocom games)–and having to work out directions here was not my favourite, But it worked well enough, and I was even charmed by the full screen advert for Melbourne House games.

Anyway, lemme see how much 95p is in today’s money. £3.77. I can’t really say people got their money’s worth here, but they could do a lot worse.

Will I ever play it again? I’m good.

Final Thought: Joe Pranevich over at The Adventurer’s Guild played through this as well if you’d like to read something more in-depth about it, with the bonus that one of the developers, Dave Johnston, shows up in the comments, revealing that it was developed “in a matter on weeks using an in-house text engine and a tweaked sprite engine based on Way of the Exploding Fist code” and that he didn’t even have a copy. They paid people at Melbourne House so poorly that they couldn’t raise 95p???

Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi! You can pick up a digital copy of exp. 2600, a zine featuring all-exclusive writing at my shop, or join as a supporter at just $1 a month and get articles like this a week early.

[kitauthor]

Dealing with the Demons of the Publishing Unknown

One of the hardest parts of being an author is putting together a story that you are certain is amazing, offering it to the world and...nothing. Books that you expect to be flops may be successes, which isn't a bad thing at all. But the reverse, those books you think will be stars that end up being meh in the sales department, that hurts and makes this business much more difficult than it needs to be. The truth is, as an author, you can do everything right and still have things not turn out as planned. And that doesn't even begin to touch on the changes that happen in our business. Computer glitches. Policy changes. There's a lot that's happening right now If you don't deal with the unknown, the uncertainty that what you do may not yield results, then your creativity and your desire to write can be stopped in its tracks. Somehow, you need to balance the fact that there are some things you can't control and make sure you're making the most of what you can control. Working with an understanding your creative nervous system allows you to deal with the publishing unknown. It may seem like pop psychology to advise someone to know what they can control and to let go of the rest. But it's also really good advice, and in this era of amplified unknowns, I encourage authors to be the students of their own creativity and writing processes.

What can we, as authors, control?

On one hand, I'd like to be glib and say not a lot. But, we control the writing of the stories, and though there may be market considerations, for the most part we control the content, the length, and the way in which we write it (for example at a desk in an office, on a phone or through dictation, etc.). If we self-publish, then we also control where the book is distributed, the price point, who we use for cover art and to some extent how they create the cover, the blurb and marketing materials. If we work with a publisher, we might have some say into the cover art and we will still have to market. The blurb may not quite be under our control, and of course we have to work with editors, but there's still quite a bit about the actual book production we control.

What do we do with this control?

We make the best choices we can and we try to be strategic about how we second-guess those choices. (For example re-evaluating KU enrollment every 90 days.) We can be gentle with ourselves, and we can appreciate when things happen outside of our control. Finally, we should be scanning the horizon, occasionally doing SWOT (Strength/Weakness/Opportunity/Threat) assessments of the publishing landscape. Not to jump at every shadow or to keep from burying our heads in the sand, but to be aware so when things happen, we can adjust accordingly and hopefully if possible guide our readers accordingly. It's difficult to write with publishing's unknowns. The uncertainty and the worry can zap our creativity. But as writers, it's also something that we should learn to do, because if there's one thing that's a certain in publishing, it's that there will always be unknowns. Read the full article

[sjstone-author]

(via The Dirty Secrets of Book Blurbs - The Atlantic)

Fuck book blurbs!

I recently bought a book by a renowned local author who generally writes in my genre, mystery, and so I just went and bought it. All good right? I did a quick scan of the back cover, and it was all blubs, not a short teaser for the plot. Instead that was on the inside cover, which is the other place it would be. But here’s the issue: the teaser suggested something between two characters that had a past relationship, but I’m half-way through the book, and that something hasn’t happened yet. In fact, I’m just reading through this sort of soap opera of a book waiting for something to happen.

What the fuck?

I realize I could have done a little more investigation into this book to see if it actually fit into what I wanted to read, but I bought it on a whim, and I thought, “Okay, this famous author writes mysteries, writes mysteries that happen in Baltimore (where my mystery happens), and actually lives in my neighborhood. Let me just get on it and read some of her work and learn from a master.

And a back cover full of blurbs can’t be wrong, can they? And yet...

Helen Lewis says in The Atlantic, “And that reveals another dirty secret of the blurb: They’re not addressed to you. “The biggest thing to understand is that blurbs aren’t principally, or even really at all, aimed at the consumer,” Richards told me via email. “They are instead aimed at literary editors and buyers for the bookstores—in a sea of new books, having blurbs from, ideally, lots of famous writers will make it more likely that they will review/stock your book.” “

Fool me once... I trusted the brand, the history of said author, and the blurbs. And yeah, this is my fault, but you all said wonderful things. Only you weren’t saying them to me, the reader, you were saying them to each other.

“Blurbs have always been controversial—too clichéd, too subject to cronyism—but lately, as review space shrinks and the noise level of the marketplace increases, the pursuit of ever more fawning praise from luminaries has become absurd. Even the most minor title now comes garlanded with quotes hailing it as the most important book since the Bible, while authors report getting so many requests that some are opting out of the practice altogether. Publishers have begun to despair of blurbs, too.”

I have a word for this that I got into the Urban Dictionary - a word that doesn’t actually fit in this situation but still feels right: vomitrocity. Imagine the puke emoji. I mean, come on, people, how pathetic is this whole concept of the self-licking ice cream cone of authorship now that we’re being duped by the author community itself? Oh, the NYT loved this book! Praise for (insert title here)! This author loved it. That author loved it.

This book is boring. I’m half way through and I’m still waiting for something to happen. Isn’t something supposed to have happened by now? The very last line of the book teaser on the inside cover of the novel goes like this: “And then X asked Y to do the unthinkable.” And yet, I’m literally in the middle of the book, page 159 out of 310 pages, and nothing has happened that was noteworthy.

So, sadly I’ll just report here that you should read this article in the The Atlantic because all this book blurbing, as Helen Lewis describes it, is just cronyism. Not useful. Just annoying and misleading, and just not what the world of writing needs. Indy authors, small authors, nobodies like me who just have a story to tell deserve a better writing world. And readers deserve a better way to discover the books that they will love reading and recommend to their friends. Because that’s the kind of network we need. Not the world of corporate book blurbs.

I hope you enjoyed my rant.