#the bum part is based on a comment I read just now and made me write this post

[susie-dreemurr]

YT comments when a male character is being paranoid and irrationally mean: aww man :( I miss when everyone was happy. He’s fun and sassy, but I hope they make up :( I just want him to be safe, man.

YT comments when a female character is being paranoid and irrationally mean: UGH, why’s she always blaming my poor fave for everything? She’s an annoying bum now, I hate her :/// Only cares about herself, that bitch.

[bellewintersroe]

Daniel Ricciardo x HornerDaughter! Reader

part 13 - dramaaaaa y/n gets upset when reading some of the weird comments after a little group holiday goes viral and secrets are starting to be exposed. Little bit of a time jump here, I wanted to get to the nitty gritty parts. Also I realised I accidentally wrote the last chapter in first person instead of third? (Or second I can’t remember wtf each one is) oops!!!! Here’s the LINK to part 12.

warnings: mentions of sex, inappropriate touching (consensual ofc) nothing too graphic, hate?? comments& crying. Mentions of readers and Daniel’s age gap, but again the ages are up to you, I’m going no lower than 22/23 because I feel kinda weird about any younger.

“How are you so tanned, Daniel?!” The almost-as-tanned girl sat down on the Australian’s bare lap. Hence the almost, being from England and from a ginger father, she was always naturally pale and tended to use spray tans to make up for the translucency of her skin.

“It’s called being Australian, baby.” Daniel cheekily grinned, holding her bum cheek and giving it a quick squeeze as soon as she sat. “Yeah, but…” y/n scooted forwards, playing with the strands of his hair. The Ibiza sea had somehow made his hair even curlier, even hers had a beachy wave to it that Daniel thought made her look like a mermaid (as he told her 5 times over). He thought she looked beautiful- he didn’t think she could get anymore beautiful until he saw her bikini cladded, in her natural form, cannon-balling off the side of the yacht they’d boarded for the night.

“You’re like so nice and dark, can’t you give some to me?” His eyes, fell to her chest, the baby pink pushing up the swell of her breasts. He just wanted to nuzzle his face deep inside of- “Daniel…” she warned.

“Right, sorry… yeah, I would if I could.” With his eyes back on her freckled face, she offered him a smile, nudging to leave his lap. Daniel’s hands tightened with a soft, “no.”

“What? You wanna have sex… again?” Her brow perked, Daniel felt hot under her gaze, and he couldn’t deny the semi that was growing in his swimming trunks.

“No- yeah.” He couldn’t even lie. They’d been at it like rabbits, and especially on this yacht, on the deck when nobody was watching, all over the bedroom, in the water (comment if you acc want me to write a smut based off this lmao). She was sore from the amount of action she’d had the past two days, but she wasn’t complaining, y/n just thought she needed to give certain areas of her body a rest.

“Daniel.” She groaned, head dropping on his shoulder. “Can’t help my girlfriends fucking sexy as fuck.” His lips pressed to the inside of her shoulder, at first she was about to shudder from the action, but the specific use of girlfriend threw her into a frenzy of excitement. “Oh, I’m your girlfriend now?” She tried to play it cool, but both of them could hear the giddiness oozing off her voice. “Uh huh… if you wanna be?” Daniel nodded up, a closed mouth smile growing on his face. “Yeah.” A giggle escaped her lips.

“Yeah? I already thought you were, you… sausage.” He teased, bouncing her slightly on his knee. “Mmmmh, whatever.” They shared a loving kiss, one that wasn’t helping Danny’s situation in his pants. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Ok, babe. I’ll get in after you, I’m just gonna go back on deck with the lads for a bit…” The good thing about the pair of them was that they could spend as much time together as possible without getting sick of one another, Daniel felt like she was apart of himself that he’d been missing his whole life- not to sound cheesy. But spending their own time together was so important, and space for y/n felt vital, especially when she wanted to have silent time, scrolling through her tik tok. At least, she thought she wanted some time to herself. Things were going well until a specific video of an overwhelmingly recognisable yacht came up on a video. Her stomach immediately dropped, pictures of her and Daniel, engaging in nothing to explicit, but a few kisses, touches, hugging. Clearly somewhat intimate moments that they kept concealed to the public eye. She swiped furiously, concerned as to what else had been captured. Daniel untying her bikini top, the two of them making out…

Y/n felt her breathing intensify and skin prick with beads of sweat. The comments were what she feared the most- the exploitive pictures were guaranteed to bring unasked controversy.

A mixed response was guaranteed, of course people were shocked, some ecstatic, others doubtful of their age gap. It wasn’t that which bothered her, it was the intruding questions and statements of complete lies and assumptions that rattled her. It didn’t take long for tears to form when people began comparing her to Daniel’s ex’s. Questioning ‘what age’ the relationship started, pointing out insecurities on her body, commenting on their visible intimacy.

Y/n was shaking when Daniel returned into their bedroom. She froze, phone still in hand, automatically turning off her phone as though she intended to hide this from him. “Still in your towel?” He attempted to tease, reaching out to nudge it off her head. The lack of response had him confused, stepping forwards with a slight hesitation.

Daniel questioned if she was crying, before shaking it off, but when she sniffled he was falling to his knees in front of her. “Hey…” he crouched in front of the saddened girl. He reached out, both hands resting on her lap comfortably, feeling a punch in the chest when he caught sight of her tear stained face. “Somebody’s leaked pictures.” She blurted out, voice heavy with upset. Daniel felt his breath hitch.

Without saying another word she handed over her phone, allowing Daniel to see for himself. “Nothing like- really bad, but… I don’t know.” She watched his reaction through the corner of her eyes, using her towel to wipe at her damp eyes.

“Oh, y/n/n.” Daniel sighed. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” She let out a sad laugh. “It’s just- it’s so invasive and the comments-” her voice became choked up once again.

“Ah, babe, you know not to read them. Fuck all that, it’s not even important.” He slung an arm around her, pulling her instinctively into his chest. “Like the most people are fine- but I-i don’t care it’s just the awful ones, Daniel. How have- why has somebody followed us on a fucking boat?” Her torment was something that angered Daniel. Not towards her, but to whoever the fuck stalked them, whoever decided to be a creep and take these pictures of her- not to forget the people who sent spiteful messages.

“People just like to ruin it for their own gain. I’m sorry, baby.” Again, Daniel sighed, feeling a little lost for words as y/n cried quietly in his arms. “Don’t-dont cry, y/n/n. C’mere.” She shuffled further onto his lap, wiping at her eyes in a subtle manner. “Like now my dad has to see that, everybody’s just gonna see and-” her voice cut short to avoid becoming too distressed. Daniel felt the tension that began to grow in his muscles.

“I don’t know.” She managed to exhale after. Daniel pressed a lingering kiss to her head, and squeezed her again. There was a moment of silence which fell between the pair. Daniels mind now began lingering.

“What did they say?” He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it.

“Just stupid shit.” He was already reaching back for her phone, glimpsing through a few of the weirder comments. “Oh, I can’t even read that shit.”

“Don’t read it then.” She muttered, biting down on her thumb. “Honestly fuck them.” Daniel inhaled, lifting up her cheek. One kiss was pressed to the rounder part of her cheek. A small, angelic kind of smile managed to peak through her sadness, even just for a second or so.

“I love you. So much, nothing in those comments will change that, will it?”

“No.” She agreed, swiping the last of her tears. “I’ll sort it out. Don’t worry.” He then nodded, a slight sense of reassurance filling her. “Are you sure?”

“Positive, baby. I’m not gonna let that slide, not when it’s upset you like this…”

————————————————————————

taglist: @dinodumbass @mccall-muffin @allabouthappiness @benbarneslut @ricciardhoe-3 @headinthecloudssblog @f1wintermoon13 @hrlzy @topguncultleader @victoriaholland @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @j-cat @lovzmez @laneyspaulding19 thankyou guys so much for commenting and following along I appreciate it, I love reading all your comments!!

[wileys-russo]

Blurb idea for mearps

Getting used to Aussie time zones and just spending time with her walking along the beach, watching sunrises ect

jetlag joy II m.earps

"oh nah you've not put me with her have you!" your girlfriend groaned loudly with annoyance as she read over the room assignments, the team would all have individual rooms once in their base camp later on in the tournament but for now when in pre-camp you'd be bunking in pairs.

"who?" you frowned glancing over her shoulder and seeing your name next to hers, the older girl looking to you with a cheeky grin. "you know it gets harder by the day to tell people we're seeing one another." you sighed, smacking her on the shoulder and grabbing your luggage, exhausted from the long haul flight to Australia.

you'd played three seasons now with united and hardly seen the pitch the first one, but only using that as motivation to push harder and move faster, and of course spurred on by your girlfriend, you were now a regular starter each and every match.

fast forward a few months and here you were stood on australian soil for your first world cup debut, both you and mary over the moon to be selected side by side.

you'd been absolutely bouncing on the bus ride to the airport much to the displeasure of your friends and team mates who had no problems with placing a hand over your mouth and begging for you to shut up.

it was how you'd wound up sitting next to your united captain as you talked one anothers ears off almost the whole flight. both you and katie known to be the chatterboxes of the england national team everyone had made it a point they didn't want to be sat with you, even going as far as to vote you both mutually the worst people to sit with.

it didn't bother either of you though and you were already often bus buddies on the way to away games for club football, katie having taught you an array of different card games and ways to cheat in your many trips together, and you looked to the girl as somewhat a sister of sorts.

mary however had made sure it was crystal clear from the moment of your mutual selection that she loved you oh so dearly but would rather be kicked from the squad than have to sit by you for such a long journey. 

though she had sent that same message to over half the team so you hardly took it personally, plus you'd much rather have someone to talk to for so long rather than someone who would just sleep the entire time like your girlfriend intended to.

"now now is someone grumpy because she hardly slept the whole flight?" mary cooed sarcastically, pinching at your cheeks as you stepped in the elevator with jordan and lucy who would be rooming beside you who both chuckled at your expense. 

"if you'd like to keep those golden hands for the tournament i suggest you keep them away from me." you grumbled in annoyance, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at the wall. 

"bet that's not what she normally says eh maz?" lucy winked, elbowing jordan who rolled her eyes at the comment whilst Mary burst out into her usual rambunctious laughter, the loud noise normally one of your favorite sounds but today it was only worsening your rapidly deteriorating mood.

"you're so loud man." you complained, covering your ears and wincing at the sheer volume of the taller girl, sighing in relief as you reached your floor and the elevator doors opened. "hey get some sleep, you'll feel better." jordan nudged you gently with a caring smile which you returned, both pairs parting ways into their own rooms.

you merely kicked your suitcase out of the way and belly flopped face first into the nearest bed, exhaling deeply as your body relaxed into the soft mattress. but that peace didn't last long as you felt someone grab at your ankles, attempting to drag you away. 

this was then followed by a sharp slap to your bum. "mary that hurt!" you moaned tiredly, trying to kick at her but too tired to give it any real effort. "everyone's going for a walk, cmon now! up and at em baby." your girlfriend flipped you over onto your back as you let out a long and tired groan. "have fun then." you quipped, covering your face with your arms and refusing to move.

"if you sleep now you won't sleep all the way through tonight, you remember the jetlag seminar don't you?" your girlfriend sighed, raising an eyebrow in your direction as you peeked out from behind your arms. "no! because you and rach wouldn't stop kicking the back of millie and I's chairs and got us in trouble." you glared toward the older girl who smiled sheepishly.

"in my defense its normally you who is being distracting in meetings, there's a reason you're not allowed to sit next to certain people at united you know." mary sat down on the edge of the bed as you sighed again. "its not my fault i talk a lot, you've met my family!" you defended as your girlfriend could only hum in agreement, anyone having to put in a shift to get a word in among your siblings and parents.

"well if you want to sleep that's your choice, but i'm just warning you it won't help love." mary smiled somewhat sympathetically, running a hand through your hair as you nodded and closed your eyes again. "i'll come get you for dinner." the blonde mumbled into your skin as she pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, tucking a hand under your neck and lifting your head to slide a pillow under it.

"love you." you mumbled tiredly, making a heart with your fingers as the keeper rolled her eyes, repeating the words back before slipping out of the room.

~

it turns out, your girlfriend was absolutely correct.

you tossed and turned for what felt like the hundredth time, tapping at your phone on the bedside table to see that it was now quarter past four in the morning, and you'd been awake and restless since about two. 

you glanced over your shoulder to see your girlfriend tucked up and sleeping peacefully in the other bed beside yours, having kicked you out about an hour ago when you wouldn't keep still.

you flipped onto your back and fiddled with your fingers, trying to count sheep and humming softly to a tune which you'd been unable to get out of your head. "shut up! please for the love of god." you felt a pillow smack you in the face which your girlfriend launched in your direction from her own bed, rolling onto her side with an annoyed huff.

checking your phone again you noted it was now just before half past five, and a google confirmed it was almost time for sunrise on the sunshine coast of australia. you sat up properly and swung out of bed, sending a text to the group chat asking if anyone was up for a sunrise walk.

you dissapeared into the bathroom, washing your hands afterwards and pulling on a tracksuit. "mary." you called out quietly, returning to the room and inching your way toward her bed. "baby?" you tried again, poking gently at her sleeping form which didn't budge.

"love?" you laid down on top of her, feeling her body which was buried under the duvet heave a deep sigh. "what?" she mumbled into her pillow as you pressed a few kisses to the back of her neck. "can we please go for a walk on the beach? it's almost sunrise." you asked hopefully, moving your lips to kiss at her cheek as she turned her head to the side.

"why!" your girlfriend groaned tiredly, eyes fluttering open as you gave her a charming smile. "i love you?" you tried, sliding off of her and laying down so you were looking at her properly. "you better." she grumbled and you frowned shoving her gently, those not the words you wanted to hear back.

"get my clothes for me then." she sighed in defeat, stretching out as you grinned happily, wasting no time doing as she asked and within a few minutes the both of you were closing the hotel room door after you.

you smiled at jordan who slipped out of the room beside you, a few of the girls who were also awake had all agreed to meet down at reception, and turned out there was more of you than you'd thought who were struggling with the difference in timezone.

your girlfriends arms wrapped around you as you stood just outside the hotel, her chin resting on your shoulder and eyes closed as your hand slipped up the sleeves of her jumper, nails softly scratching at the tanned skin.

the rest of the girls arriving all of you exchanged a few words but mostly wandered down to the beach in silence, ellie, chloe and alex walked beside you as mary trailed behind with niamh, georgia and jordan.

the group of you sat together on the sand and watched the sunrise, your girlfriend laid down in between your legs as your arms draped over her shoulders. you sighed gratefully as ellie handed you both a coffee, herself and chloe offering to do a run for everyone once they'd woken up a little more.

"walk?" you leant forward and quietly asked the taller girl, placing a lazy kiss to her lips and ignoring the teasing from your team mates as the keeper nodded. the two of you stood and you were quick to grab her hand, breaking away from the group and wandering down by the waters edge.

the longer you were both up and outside the more energized you both felt, your conversations increasing as you playfully splashed water at one another. you threatened to dump the last mouthful of your coffee down her back as she picked you up and jokingly dropped you, instead placing you back on dry land and pulling you into a tight hug.

your head rested on her shoulder as her chin tucked itself into your neck, soft i love you's exchanged between gentle kisses and murmurs of how excited you were to enter into the tournament by one anothers side.

[nerdieforpedro]

12/10/2023 - Weekend Update

Nerdie! Look at you staying on a schedule.

I know! Being half-way organized. It's kinda nice.

We'd never thought we'd see the day. So what's new?

I made some fic posts this week:

Sard'ika Sessions - Session Two (Din Djarin x plus size female reader)

Christmas List (Robbie Reyes x reader)

The Brave, The Bold, The Dirty - Fanfics that I adore (Volume 3)

A New Tradition with Frankie (Frankie Morales x GN reader)

We also spread positivity though everyone's ask boxes and exchanged lovely messages with each other and loved on each other.

Read anything this week?

I did. A large portion of it is in my Fanfic appreciation post volume 3 which the link is above. I also started a volume 4 because I love highlighting different author's works that I've enjoyed. 😀

I'm just going to pick my top three for the week:

Don't Drink the Punch by @wildemaven (Soft Dave and female reader. I'm a fan of soft Dave. He can be soft and sweet. He and the reader are married and they're at a work event. It's lovely.)

Exposed by @maggiemayhemnj (Ezra and female reader. Turns out this is her first fic. I was flabbergasted. The Imagery, word flow and cadence are all from someone who's pen name is one word, like Cher or Homer or Ms. PayDay.)

Insatiable by @pedge-page (Frankie Morales and female reader. Part three of their three part emotional sexual odyssey with Frankie and the female reader. There's big feelings and lots of smut abound. But there is a sweet end to it.)

What happened outside of fanfics this week?

I was sick most of the week. I ended up in the ED at work and was out for the week. Thankfully I'm on the mend and should be ready this upcoming week for work and beyond! I caught up on different FBI shows, watched Loki with my mom (she wonders if he's going to be at a convention - I'm hoping not so she won't bum rush the man,) and bought a book on flowers. I've also been starting back up on learning Spanish again.

What's coming up this week?

I'm working on another Robbie Reyes fic - likely to be a one shot but dark because the Rider is dark. Gabriel Luna had a birthday this past week, @musings-of-a-rose sent me all the pictures so this is where we are in life right now. All Luna’ed down and what not.

I'm gonna try for some more fluff, maybe with Dieter, Frankie or Benny. Not sure who. We'll see.

I could, possibly, be working on one of my other series that I started and dropped like a hot potato. Maybe they'll have new chapters. People were reading them, which was the weirdest thing.

Session Three of Sard'ika Sessions will be up on Wednesday. The Way is paved with Space Smut according to the Maker. 🫡 We'll be at the mid-point so we're in for a shift, but no worries. Session four, five and six took up a lot of pages in my notebook and it was all outlined with a lot of things. Maybe some more improper beskar use? Might need to touch base with The Armorer on that. 👀 Didn't know that was included in the ancient ways either.

Nerdie, don't be messing with The Creed like that.

To be fair, I did mention in Session one that there would be liberties taken with both The Creed and The Way so the latter sessions are where more of those liberties are taken. Maybe a lot, maybe a little. You'll have to read and see. Different Mandalorians see The Creed differently, why can’t I?

I am curious about what liberties my Space Sister @linzels-blog would make with The Creed. 🤔

Wait, why is it weird that people were reading your other series?

Since I haven't updated them for months, I didn't expect them to get any comments, then they did. It was very sweet and got me thinking, maybe I should finish that at some point, or at least add to it. I'm trying to focus on one at a time. Can't be crossing streams.

We get it, but that joke though? Could have done without that. Any last thoughts?

I need to work more on the pickled Peña project. Haven't finished that yet. Stay safe and hydrated. There are nasty bugs that are wreaking havoc on people's noses and sinuses. We’re very happy that @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @for-a-longlongtime have lived to tell their stories.

Also check your knives and watch your tips. I guess you can palm the tips or take them and do whatever as long as you're safe about it.

Nerdie, what are you talking about...? Do we want to know?

If you know, you know and if you don't, find some hot tips. 😘

Stay safe and don't get any in your eye,

Love Nerdie 💜

(escapes to a certain moodboard 🍆)

Nerdie! You can't just say that and leave! 😠

[dahyeltal]

💫🕯️

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

First off, I love each and every type of comment, and I keep them in a special folder in my email! (Though I'm really bad at responding to them. T_T) I think my favorite kinds of comments are ones where folks bring up specific quotes or scenes that they particularly love, especially when you can tell that they've been building their comment as they read. It is so fun to watch the roller coaster of emotions from folks who comment as they go. But again, all comments are appreciated!!

As for feedback, my favorite feedback tells me ways I can improve in the future. Feedback which helps me grow as a writer rather than leaving me stressed about the fic I just posted. "I don't like the pacing of this fic" is not good feedback, but changing it to "(Compliment)! If you write something like this again, I would love to see more content in (parts that are lacking) so that (reason)!" gives me something to improve on in the future. Heck even an "I would love to know more about what happened during (lacking section) if you ever feel like writing more!" is great feedback to me!

(Obligatory note that not all writers appreciate or want feedback. I don't mind it, though I may not engage with it.)

🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

I'm going to give two since one references sexual assault (that one's at the bottom) and you or others might not want to read that.

First up: To Build a Home

This fic is one of my favorites, and I'm always bummed I can't just make everyone read it. It is based on a beautiful, tragic song called "To Build a Home" by The Cinematic Orchestra. I've always loved this song, and watching this particular video made me think the melancholy thought of Spock outliving McCoy. While McCoy may be tough to kill, and he will undoubtedly have lived many years longer than expected, he will likely die before Spock. How does McCoy reconcile that fact? How does Spock? How do they live knowing how different their life spans are? How does McCoy leave his mark in Spock's world? And how to Spock go on living after McCoy is gone? It was difficult to write but extremely meaningful for me, and I added a happy ending to make everyone feel better after the sob fest.

Next: Bully

CW/TW for Sexual assault and discussions around it, including personal anecdotes.

This fic was supposed to be a fun little, slightly angsty oneshot where Spock finds out that McCoy's friend with benefits is Spock's childhood bully. McCoy was supposed to get caught, find out his FWB's past, yell at him, defend Spock, and then Spones were supposed to run off into the sunset and be happy. Then my brain was like, "MAKE IT SAD!"

Now I don't take this topic lightly, and I have my own experiences I'm working out while I'm working through this fic. But I wanted to explore this topic and how different the ideal Trek future I have in my head deals with sexual assault. I also wanted to explore the complicated feelings of McCoy being abused in ways he'd previously consented to in wildly different circumstances.

This is a conversation that I haven't seen discussed openly in many kink circles (I've actually only ever seen it in my ace kink circles) and since I work out my thoughts through my fics, well. Sorry, McCoy.

[dylanwritesgood]

deep fic asks, 1, 6, 12, 14, please?

Deep Fic Asks Here

Thank you for the chance to chatter, Ashes! <3

1. what's the fic you're most proud of?

I'm usually pretty proud of all of my fics, but Pretty Boy/Polaris (because really, they're one story, just published in two works for rating reasons) is my favorite. It started off as "this is a cute pair" because you can see how upset Gareth is to betray Eddie and Dustin to Jason and like... he looks at Eddie with a mix of annoyance and adoration each time they're on screen and I liked it. And I also headcanoned him as trans before I ended up on ST Tumblr so it was nice to find there was an audience for him.

During the course of writing it, I had lots of chances to research and explore transmasculinity (and experience my own little gender crisis), and kind of work out my own dysphoria with Gareth's experiences--and apparently I wasn't the only one who needed that because I have a small gaggle of 18-21-year-old trans masc readers whom I treasure. I also am really proud of it because I wrote over 100k words (~60k is published), and it's a romance featuring a fat, queer, emotionally messy character who wants and feels guilty for wanting--and I worked really, really hard to portray him as desirable and not buff off the unpleasant parts of him for consumption. Finally, I'm really proud of it because, while it doesn't get a ton of hits or comments, most of the comments I receive are from people telling me they see themselves in Pretty Boy's Gareth and feel desirable too. So yeah, I can't NOT be proud of this fic.

6. what's the hardest part of the writing process for you?

Writing something short. One shot who? I don't know her. I would like to because every new fic is going to be abandoned or a big commitment. I don't plot my fanfics because I'm writing for me first and an audience second. I wish I could but then I wouldn't have 100k words of PB and many of my favorite scenes wouldn't have made it.

Also posting. I fucking hate the work of posting to Tumblr but if I don't post and cross-post and repost and tag like a mad person, no one sees my writing.

12. What’s your perfect environment to create/write?

The physical environment doesn't matter. I've been publishing semi-professionally since middle school, wrote professionally for years at a rate of ~1 million words a year, currently publish academic research, and I've always written original and fanfic on top of that--point is, I can (and do) crank out 2k words on my phone while standing in line at Target because I've had to produce creative work on demand in so many environments I couldn't control. At this point, creativity is a reflex.

The tools do matter. I really like working in Dabble, which is a cloud writing program similar to Scrivener. It's the best solution I've found for how I have time to write--app/browser-based, constant cloud syncing, and an organization system that lets me work in smaller chunks of a larger document. I write on my phone and in my browser at work a lot so it's nice to have a consistent UI to make my brain go "oh, it's Writing Time" and a self-contained system.

And even though I'm pretty goddamn deaf, I'm also in love with my noise-canceling headphones and Spotify playlists because I write in weird places and people let you focus when you have headphones on.

14. Do you compare yourself to other writers? In a positive or negative way?

Um... *awkward laugh* Yeah. I do. I used to compare my style a lot--it was very action-focused and dialogue-heavy, with little narrative to drive the story when the characters weren't actively engaged in Doing Stuff. Obviously, that's not really my style now because I really admired fic writers who wrote a more literary, cerebral style that read less like a script so I kept practicing that style.

Now, I mostly compare myself to others on engagement, even though I try not to because, obviously, my obsession with rarepairs isn't going to net me Steddie or HellCheer numbers. It bums me out a little when I see... not well-written (or at least, not well-edited) fics getting tons of attention because they're x reader or a popular ship when I'm getting less than 10 views/likes/kudos/reblogs/whatevers across multiple platforms and I've put a lot of care into my pieces. I know it's not a reflection of my work's quality and everyone is entitled to put out and enjoy reading less-than-stellar work (and like, I read them and leave notes too, bc content about my comfort characters is still content about my comfort characters). To each their own. I try to remind myself the readers who like my work tend to love it... even if there are so few that I have all their usernames memorized lol.

(Also sometimes I end up making comparisons when I read something another person has written and it... appears to be heavily influenced by my work. I saw one Eddie/Gareth fic that picked up on my rhythm, emphasis patterns, vocabulary choices... and my bad habits--flattering--and a headcanon list that pulled heavily from All Your Faith and added a little to it--still flattering but less charming.)

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 2)

i quite liked this story and thought it totally had potential for more, so i’ve cooked up a part 2, continuing the idea. i have no clear plan with this, just enjoyed taking the story further, but i might turn it into a proper series if you guys are enjoying the concept!

pairing:  Harry x actress!reader

word count: ~3.2k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

The car comes to a halt and you look up from your phone after being so occupied with texts you’ve been ignoring all afternoon.

“We’ve arrived, Miss,” The driver, Lawrence informs you in his usual, polite manner, looking at you through the mirror.

“Oh, thank you so much,” you breathe out grabbing your purse from the seat next to you. “I don’t think I’ll take too long, I’m not really in the mood to party,” you let him know, quickly running your hand through your hair before getting out, already knowing paparazzi is waiting for all guests at the entrance probably.

“Had a long day?” he asks with a soft smile.

“Kind of,” you sigh nodding. “I’ll text you when I’ll feel like heading home soon, alright?”

“Perfect. Have a great night, Miss,” Lawrence nods.

“Thank you,” you nod at him before opening the door and getting out of the car. Strategically, Lawrence stopped just a few buildings away from the club, so you wouldn’t be attacked right away, emerging from the car. This gives you enough time to fix your dress and avoid your private parts to end up on the tabloids. Not something you want to include in your career, if you’re being honest.

Shutting the door closed you head towards the club that has quite a long line of people waiting outside, though you have no idea why. If they are not on the list, there’s no way they’ll get inside, it’s a private party.

As you approach the entrance, people start to recognize you quite quickly and you hear your name coming from all direction, but you just flash a smile in their way, continuing to walk with the intention of getting inside as fast as possible.

Just as you expected, paparazzi are already waiting at the entrance and they start flashing their cameras in your way right away, throwing all kinds of questions at you that are left completely ignored.

The bouncer checks your name on the list and lets you inside without a fuss and you’re happy to leave the madness behind and mingle in the crowd of familiar faces.

Tonight is the celebration of the birthday of a good friend, a quite old friend of yours. Florence and you met quite some years ago, when both of you were only trying your luck in the industry, working hard to make yourselves a name. Now you are both are in the inner circle of Hollywood, piling iconic roles on your resumes together. So much has changed, people keep coming and going in your life, but the two of you managed to stay close and keep each other grounded when it was needed.

You keep saying hello to the people you know as you make your way through the guests, hugging a few guests, asking if they have seen Florence and they all point towards the bar. Unsurprisingly, you find the birthday girl right there, with a group of people circling around her as the bartender places a row of shots to the counter and her eyes light up at the sight of all the alcohol.

“Not even surprised you are already plastered,” you grin at her and she squeals upon seeing you join the little circle. Throwing her arms around you she jumps at you mumbling her greeting.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” she breathes out, clearly over a few drinks at this point. “I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages!”

“It happens when we are both working on a movie at the same time, in different cities,” you chuckle giving her a look.

This past month has been rather busy, you were in Atlanta finishing up filming your latest movie while Florence was in Palm Springs, working on Don’t Worry Darling, she barely made it back to the city to her own birthday party, apparently they wrapped filming just two days ago so it was a close call.

“You have to take a shot with me!” she urges, already grabbing two shots from the bar and handing you one of them, not even waiting for your answer.

“Cheers to the birthday girl!” you hold your glass up after everyone else grabbed a shot, everyone around wishes her a happy birthday again before sending down the alcohol.

You can’t help the grimace that pulls on your face as the liquor burns down your throat. It’s been a while since the last time you had anything other than a few glasses of wine, it’ll take some time to get used to the stomach churning taste.

As the host of the party and the birthday girl, Florence’s presence is in high demand, so you don’t get to spend too much time with her, but you don’t blame her. Ordering a longer drink for you, sticking with some tequila based cocktail as you mingle in the crowd of guests.

Luckily, there are quite a lot familiar faces and you don’t have to linger around the club on your own. You move to a booth at the side with Sydney, a producer you and Florence both worked together previously. She is pretty new in the world of films, but she surely is a talent and you can’t wait for everyone to realize what a blessing she and her art is. You’re joined by her girlfriend, Emma and the three of you are deep in conversation, sharing the funniest stories that happened to you lately and surprisingly, you are genuinely having a good time. You really weren’t in the mood for a party after such a long and frustrating day, having scrunched in three auditions to one day because your manager messed the dates up. When you finished with the third ones, you wanted nothing else than to just sink into a nice bath, have a glass of wine and go to bed early, making your friends’ point of you being a grandma quite valid. However you didn’t have the heart to cancel on Florence, but now that you’ve had some alcohol buzzing in your system and some good company, you don’t regret coming at all.

Once you get to the end of your drink you head back to the bar to have another one, not feeling like leaving just yet. Pushing your way through the people, some keep saying hi to you and you greet everyone back with an instinct, even if you don’t know them. Something you’ve grown to do over your years being in the spotlight.

Standing in line, just like everyone else, you patiently wait to get to the front, when you feel someone bump against you from behind.

“Excuse me—Oh! If it isn’t my favorite Never Have I Ever game partner!”

Your eyes are met with a pair of green ones and a dimpled smile, you can’t help but chuckle as you turn to greet Harry.

“Hi there! Long time no see!” you smile as he pulls you into a side-hug and stands with you in the line.

“You know, maybe you would’ve seen me earlier if you actually gave me your number,” he comments with a sly smile and you have nothing to defend yourself with, he is completely right.

That day the two of you met on The Ellen Show you were actually planning to give him your number, but once your part of the filming ended your manager called you about something urgent and you couldn’t wait for him to finish as well, leaving the studio without ever giving him the chance to even ask for your number. You felt guilty and a little disappointed, but thought your paths would sooner or later cross somehow and it seems like you were right.

“I’m sorry about that. I had some papers to sign before the office closed, I had to leave,” you apologize truthfully and he nods understanding.

“S’alright. I was a little bummed, but I get it.”

“So what are you doing here?” you ask, moving forward in the line, getting closer to the front. Harry gives you a quick look that you can’t quite read before answering.

“I uhh—Florence and I filmed together last month.”

That’s when it clicks. She told you and you read about it, but you tend to forget these kind of things, not having enough capacity to keep everything in mind, only restricting it to the most important stuff.

“Oh, right! Yeah, sorry. Totally slipped my mind. Sorry, I sounded like I live under a rock,” you awkwardly chuckle, feeling a little ashamed that you didn’t remember, when Florence even mentioned it herself before she travelled to Palm Springs, but you were running on caffeine and protein bars between takes, it’s a luck you didn’t even forget your own name after those busy weeks.

“No, s’alright. Nice to know not everyone is drowning in the content that’s been put out of me lately,” he chuckles lowly. “You look lovely, by the way,” he nods at you, eyes running down your body quickly, before they return to your gaze.

“Oh, thank you,” you breathe out looking down at yourself, as if you forgot what you were wearing. It’s a little, black Gucci dress, quite vintage with some embroidered floral patterns along the slightly daring neckline. “It’s Gucci,” you tell him with a knowing smirk.

“Oh!”

“Know you are obsessed with it,” you add with a chuckle, seemingly surprising him with your knowledge about him.

“Someone did some research about me then?”

“I’ll admit, I might have searched your name one of those nights after I had a nice glass of wine.”

“And what else did you find out about me?” he arches an eyebrow at you, making your cheeks heating up. You shouldn’t have admitted that you searched him, he’ll think you’re some kind of stalker, which you are not, you just like to catch up on things sometimes. Though you are clearly a fan of his music and you know about his career vaguely, you haven’t been keeping an eye on him that closely lately, only because you didn’t have the time. However after meeting him at the taping, he was stuck on your mind for days before you gave in and checked out what he’s been up to lately and went through some in-depth articles about him from the past years, closing the line with his latest Vogue issue.

“Nothing shocking,” you simply answer and luckily, you are next up at the bar. You ask for another cocktail and Harry chimes in, adding a beer to the order.

“I hope you know I won’t let you leave until you give me your number this time,” he smirks at you cheekily, making you chuckle.

“I never said I would give it to you.” Wanting to play a little you shrug innocently, earning a stunned look.

“Making me work for it? Alright,” he nods, trying his best to hold his grin back.

The bartender comes back with the drinks and Harry is quick to whip his card out and pay for yours as well. You’re not surprised when he follows you back to the booth to Sydney and Emma. They both greet you with bright smiles upon arriving with Harry.

“This is Sydney and Emma. Syd and I worked together a while ago. Ladies, this is—“ You start the introduction, but Sydney cuts you off quickly.

“Harry Styles. You don’t have to introduce him to us,” she chuckles shaking hand with the fourth guest at the table. “I was a big One Direction fan,” she adds with a chuckle and that’s a new information. As a former fan girl, she is holding herself quite alright in the presence of her idol.

“Oh, nice!” Harry beams, genuinely looking delighted at the information.

“Her playlists have at least one One Direction song on them still this day,” Emma laughs shaking her head, while Syd just shrugs innocently.

The four of you are quick to engage in a conversation about music, mostly about what you listened to when you were teenagers and you are having some laughs at the odd taste you all used to have.

“I think my most played song was Crazy by Britney Spears. I was obsessed with that song,” you admit and Emma groans throwing her hands in the air.

“I loved that song! Even learned the choreography!” she shares, making everyone laugh around the table.

“I bet you did too,” Harry grins in your way over his half empty beer.

“Totally did not,” you scoff with a pretentious grimace that makes it clear that you in fact did.

“I would give an arm to see you dance to that song,” he sighs with an amused grin and you just chuckle, taking another sip from your drink.

At one point Florence joins the booth, buzzing from all the birthday shots she’s been constantly taking, but making sure you all are having a good time.

“I see you guys met again!” she beams looking at you and Harry sitting next to each other. “Y/N, wanna hear something funny?” she smirks at you with glistening eyes.

“Always,” you chuckle softly.

“Once on set, I caught Harry stalking your Instagram.” The man in talk almost chokes on his beer as Florence starts laughing, clearly enjoying how she just busted her co-star, but you are having a blast at how nervous her comment got him and you find the story quite flattering.

“Flo, I think you had enough to drink,” Harry tells her, urging her to leave the booth, but she is way too caught up in getting him into trouble.

“Are you ashamed she now knows you were checking out her sexy photos for that perfume campaign she did last year?” she continues, giving away even more details. Your eyebrows run up as you look at Harry, who is desperately trying to avoid your burning gaze.

“Oh, so you’re a fond of my pictures?” you tease him, his cheeks turning redder with each passing moment.

“I mean… You looked really good.”

“And quite half naked, only covering myself with a huge perfume bottle,” you add chuckling, enjoying it probably a little too much than you should, but Harry has been so confident, flirting with you, it’s funny to see him so flustered all of a sudden.

Harry lets out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck while Florence taps his shoulder, saying something that sounded like ‘good luck, man’ before she moves over to the next group of people.

“I wasn’t stalking, your profile just popped up and—“

“Harry,” you stop him with a chuckle. “It’s fine, I was just messing with you.”

“Way to make me a wreck, Y/N,” he shoots you a narrow-eyed look, but you can see the smirk pulling on his lips.

“If it makes you feel better I checked your profile a few times too,” you admit and once again, he seems surprised.

“It does make me feel better,” he nods, his sly smirk growing wider with each passing moment he spends staring at you.

Though you’ve been enjoying the night so far you are running low on energy, so when you see it’s already past midnight you send a text to Lawrence letting him know you are planning to leave soon.

Luckily, Florence is at one of the booths near yours, so you excuse yourself from your table, walking over to her to say your goodbye.

“Leaving already?” she pouts, returning your hug.

“I’ve had a long day, I wouldn’t want to be the grumpy guest to ruin others’ night,” you tell her with an apologetic smile and she nods understanding.

“I’m happy I saw you. We need to do something sometime soon!”

“Sure thing. I’ll have a looser schedule in the upcoming months. Call me whenever you are around and free,” you tell her kissing her cheek and giving her hand a soft squeeze. “Happy birthday once more.” “Thank you babe!” she cheers as you let go of each other.

Walking back to your booth you say goodbye to Sydney and Emma, making the same promise to meet up with them sometime soon. When you turn to Harry he is already up on his feet and offers to walk you out.

“Just to the exit. There are a shit ton of paparazzi outside,” you tell him and he nods, placing a hand to your lower back, ushering you through the crowd. The two of you stop near the exit since Lawrence hasn’t replied to you that he has arrived and you definitely don’t want to wait outside.

“So, are you gonna leave without giving me your number this time as well?” he asks tilting his head to the side as he hides his hands in his pockets lazily.

“Maybe I’m just trying to see if fate is gonna throw you in my way again,” you tease him, but reach for your phone in your purse. “Send yourself a text,” you tell him handing him the device.

He doesn’t try to hide the satisfied grin as he types his number in and sends a quick text to himself so he has your number. Handing it back you just take it and check if Lawrence has texted you. Right at that moment the screen lights up with a short ‘I’ve arrived, Miss’ text and you slide the phone back into your purse.

“Well, it’s been nice seeing you again, Harry,” you say your goodbye and stepping closer you engage in a short, but tight hug.

“You too, Y/N,” he smiles down at you. “Never have I ever had the number of an Emmy nominated actress’ number,” he smirks making you laugh.

“Drink up, Styles,” you tell him cheekily before you walk away, out of the club.

Lawrence is parked right in front of the building and you try to shield your vision from all the flashes as you get into the back seat as fast as possible.

“Hello, Lawrence!” you greet the man in a very delighted mood and he senses the change in you.

“Had a great evening, Miss?” he asks as he leaves from the club and heads to your apartment’s building.

“I did,” you nod biting into your bottom lip. Reaching into your purse you pull your phone out to check the text Harry sent himself.

You can’t help the chuckle that leaves your mouth when you see the short message he sent to his contact that he just saved under Harry S.

“I promise I won’t ghost you.” That’s what the text reads and as you are looking at the conversation you see the bubble popping up that signals that he is typing right now.

“So nice of you. Please keep that promise!” His text appears on the screen and you chuckle under your breath.

“Cheeky.” You write back.

“Maybe, but now I have evidence. Don’t even try to put me on your ghosted list!”

“Will think about it…” you write back with a sly smile before you lock the phone and put it away, letting your head rest against the back of the seat, eyes closing as you can’t wipe the smile off your face.

PREVIOUS PART

NEXT PART

[nerdzzone]

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Note: Thank you so much to everyone who read this story, especially those who took the time to comment and share their thoughts! I never imagined it would get this much love and I really appreciate it.

This is the last part of this section of their story, but there will be more! I don’t have too much planned yet, but I’m definitely going to write a little prequel about how it all started and then maybe a series of one shots of various events in their lives or a follow up series a bit in the future. Keep an eye out for that and enjoy this last part for now!

Part Four

_____

Part Five

It was still dark when I woke up.

It took a moment for me to remember where I was and why I was intertwined with a very warm, sculpted body, but as the memories came back to me, I was relieved that it was still early. We hadn't had the forethought to set any alarms despite agreeing that I should leave before Grayson came down so it was lucky that I'd woken up naturally.

I knew I needed to leave while I had the chance, before I drifted back off to sleep, but the peaceful look on Chris' face was hard to disturb. It had been an emotional night for both of us at the end of a busy day so I tried to slip away without waking him up, but even in his sleep, he wasn't ready to let me go. His grip tightened the moment I started to wiggle and I couldn't help but smile at his need to keep me close.

Stretching up, I placed soft kisses along his jaw as I quietly called out his name between each one. It took a few moments, but eventually he stirred and his grip tightened on me again as he tilted his head to look down at me.

"What time is it?"

His voice was raspy with sleep and it sent tingles down my spine.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "But I should probably go upstairs."

Chris leaned up on his arm just enough to look over me to glance at the clock on his nightstand.

"It's only five," he informed me. "Stay."

"He gets up early some days."

My words were true, but he wasn't going to be swayed.

"Never before six, we've got time."

Before I could put forth any more arguments, he leaned down and silenced me with a kiss.

It felt strange - waking up in his bed, sharing such casual affection - but it felt so right.  

I let my hands slide over his toned chest, soaking in the hard shape of his muscles, enjoying the shiver that ran through him as I ghosted my fingers down over his prominent abs before trailing back up his waist. A smile slid onto my face as I pulled back slightly.

"How'd you get so many abs?" I mumbled. "It's not fair."

I felt Chris' lips twitch into a smirk against my own as he slid his hands under my shorts as he had the night before.

"No more unfair than you walking around in these sexy pajamas for the last few weeks..."

I snorted a laugh and pulled away to look down at what I was wearing before looking back at him.

"I don't wear sexy pajamas," I protested. "These are old and frumpy."

"What are you talkin' about?" He laughed. "Who in their right mind thinks booty shorts are frumpy?"

"These are not booty shorts, they're normal shorts."

"Well, they're short enough that they've been driving me crazy,"  he informed me, leaning down to hover his lips over mine again. "But then again, you could wear anything and make it look fuckin' hot."

I felt my cheeks heat up at his compliment, but before I could deny it, his lips were back on mine.

It was a slow and lazy kiss and I was struck by how different this felt to the intimate moments we'd shared before. There was no threat of one of us coming to our senses and running away, we could relax and enjoy every moment. The knowledge that this was something deeper, something stronger than a fleeting moment of weakness made it feel all the more profound; it made the fire that was building inside me burn brighter with every brush of his tongue against mine and every tug of my hips against his.

His hands kneaded and squeezed my bum as I let one of mine rest on his chest while the other tightened on his bicep. His tense, sculpted bicep. So much for out of shape, I thought to myself remembering our earlier conversation, but I didn't have time to voice any arguments against the claim that he'd made before he drew my mind back into the moment.

Pulling back slightly, he nipped at my lower lip and began trailing kisses down my jaw. I hummed happily at the sensation until he focused on a spot just below my ear, a spot that pulled a gasp from my lips. Encouraged by the sound, he sucked there, gently at first but steadily increased the pressure until his teeth grazed against my skin and I couldn't hold back a soft moan.

He chuckled as he pulled his mouth back, just enough for his breath to hit my neck and send shivers down my spine.

"I can't wait to find all the places that do that to you..."

I felt my cheeks heat up, partially from the shame of how easily he'd found such a sensitive spot and partially from the anticipation of him finding more.

"Shut up," I mumbled, moving my hand from his arm to his jaw to lift his mouth back to mine.

He smirked into the kiss, letting our lips stay together as his hands slid up from under my shorts to under my shirt instead. He wasted no time lifting it over my head, tossing it aside and settling his hands on my chest. Another gasp slipped out of me as his fingers found my nipples and pinched them softly. The sensation alone sent a wave of arousal through me, but as he leaned back to flick his eyes down and take in the sight, I felt the heat between my legs grow even more. His pupils darkened as he bit his bottom lip and I let my hips rock against his.

"Chris," I practically panted. "Please..."

He pulled his eyes back up to meet mine as if my voice had snapped him out of a trance and he smiled, kissing me again.

"Patience, Winnie. Patience."

Winnie. It was a nickname he'd started using years ago, the first night we met. It wasn't until he mumbled it now that I realized how long it had been since he'd used it. Probably not since I'd told him that we were better off as friends, I'd just been Whitney since then. The sound of it made my heart clench as I captured his mouth with mine and arched into him. I needed to feel him - I needed that closeness.

He let me press against him, moving his hands so my chest could rest against his and letting them trail down to quickly rid himself of his pants and me of my shorts before settling them back on my thighs. He kissed me deeply, his tongue teasing mine as his hands slowly moved higher, taking advantage of the position of my leg over his hip as one hand slid between us.

I gripped him, gasping against his mouth as he pressed his thumb against my clit while one finger, quickly followed by another, sunk inside me.

My head fell back then, giving Chris the opportunity to press his lips against the exposed skin.

"Never get tired of seeing you like this..."

The words were mumbled into my neck, but I couldn't even fathom a response as my eyes squeezed shut, too distracted by the feeling of the movement between my legs. I knew the thickness of his fingers was only a hint of what was to come, the slow yet purposeful rubbing was just a tease and that thought was almost overwhelming.

I wanted to touch him, I wanted to hear him whimper and feel him squirm like I was, but when I reached out to touch his hard cock that lay between us, he used his free hand to pull mine away, pinning it to his chest. At the same time, he pressed harder on my clit and I couldn't find the strength to argue as my arousal became almost overwhelming.

"Chris, please," I repeated my earlier plea, but he played dumb as he raised an eyebrow.

"Please?"

I wanted - no, needed - him inside me, to feel the stretch and ache of his cock as his hips thrust against mine, but as hard as I tried to focus and get more words out, more specific directions, my mind went blank. He looked smug at my helplessness, but a curl of his fingers had my eyes fluttering shut as a moan tore from my throat and my hips moved against his hand as if they were no longer under my control. I heard a faint 'shh' before Chris' lips covered mine again in an attempt to swallow the noises I couldn't hold back.

He was relentless as he stroked the sensitive spot he’d found with every move of his fingers. It was intense. Too intense but not intense enough at the same time until suddenly it was perfect. My nails dug into Chris' arm, my thigh gripping his hip as if to keep him exactly where he was and the pleasure ripped through my body.

My chest heaved as I came down from the high, my hand going to Chris' wrist to guide his away from me, needing a relief from the stimulation once the trembles of my orgasm had stopped. He rested his hand on my hip instead, stroking the skin softly as he laid soft, gentle kisses on my lips until I relaxed.

Eventually I melted against him, my body loose from my release which was a stark contrast to the tension that ran through him. He was impossibly hard, already leaking, and practically his whole body twitched as I let my hand drift over him from base to tip.

"Whitney," he choked out. "Fuck."

His voice was strangled, his eyes wide, pupils blown and the vision of him so wound up sent another wave of heat through me. I teased him for a moment, a lazy smirk on my face as he shivered under my touch, but he didn't let me have my fun for long.

He shifted slightly, pushing forward enough to knock me onto my back. My hand slipped away from him and he caught it in his, lacing our fingers together as he pinned it to the bed. Shifting his hips, he settled into position before reaching down with his free hand to guide himself inside me making us both moan at the sensation. He surprised me by how continually restrained he was as he slowly pressed forward until he was buried completely. The stretch was fierce and I felt every inch of him, soaking in the feeling as my body adjusted. Once I was comfortable, I rocked my hips and gasped at the friction.

Chris pressed his lips against my shoulder, his hand gripping mine a little tighter as he pulled out almost as slowly as he'd pushed in. The second thrust was slightly more forceful, but it was clear he was holding back, using the soft movements to build the tension between us.

And it was working.

Every slow drag had me feeling every inch, every brush against every nerve and I felt myself quivering around him within moments.

He nudged his nose against my chin as he trailed his lips up until they pressed against mine again.

"Look at me."

His demand came out in a grunt, but I forced my eyes open to meet his. His gaze was intense and it was hard not to look away, but there was more behind his stare. A softness, a twinkle, a look of love. My breath caught in my throat as I let my free hand move to his cheek.

I held his stare as he continued his gentle thrusts, the speed increasing as his will power waned and I matched him, letting myself rub against him with each movement. It didn't take long for the pressure to start building, for the slow and consistent friction against the most sensitive parts of my body to make me tighten and clench as my release began to build again. But as it built, so did the emotions bubbling in my chest.

This closeness. The intimacy. The difference between this moment and any we'd shared before. How he was taking his time, like every touch was purposeful and like every movement had more meaning behind it than words could express. It was unlike anything I'd felt before and it made my heart ache.

He was watching me as my eyes grew misty, grunting with almost every thrust and soon, the intensity was too much.

I pressed towards him, pushing to meet his movements as my eyes fell shut, my jaw dropping as I panted against him. I felt his grip tighten on my hand again as he picked up speed until our hips were crashing together.

I let my arms lace around his neck, pulling him closer to me so I could bury my face against the skin of his shoulder as it took mere moments - practically seconds - for me to fall over the edge, muffling my repressed cries with his muscles.

"Fuck," Chris groaned, his head hanging low as his own release was edged closer by mine.

He thrust once, twice, three more times before pulling out completely leaving me twitching around nothing as he spilled on my stomach. He held himself steady, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving, until he caught his breath and let his arms relax, rolling over to lay next to me.

That was when the wave of emotion I'd been feeling crashed down on me. As I laid there, covered in his cum, I suddenly felt as exposed and vulnerable as I had during our conversation the night before. I bit my bottom lip to stop it trembling, but I couldn't hold back the tears as they began trailing down my cheeks and onto the pillow below my head.

I could hear Chris breathing next to me as he came down from his release, but I stayed perfectly still, hoping not to draw any attention to myself. It wasn't until I drew in a shaky breath that he noticed I was crying.

"Hey, whoa, what's going on?" He asked, rolling onto his side so he was facing me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I choked out. "I'm just...overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed in a good way?" He asked, his worry written all over his face. "Or bad?"

"Good," I assured him, smiling softly and reaching up to stroke his cheek. "It's all good, I promise."

"Okay," Chris nodded, but there was still concern in his eyes. "I'll be right back."

He scurried off to the bathroom, reappearing moments later with a damp cloth. He quickly, but gently wiped up the mess on my stomach before throwing the cloth in the laundry basket in the corner and climbing back into bed. As soon as he was settled, he pulled me into his arms and let me rest my head on his chest.

We stayed like that, holding onto each other as Chris whispered quiet reassurances to me for a few minutes until my tears came under control.

"Sorry," I sniffled. "That's so embarrassing."

"It's not," he insisted, stroking my arm softly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Absolutely," I assured him, placing a soft kiss on his chest. "Better than okay. It's just been an emotional night, I guess it all kinda hit me."

"I thought," he paused. "I thought maybe you regretted it..."

His confession made me sit up so fast that it made my head spin slightly as I turned to look at him.

"No, Chris, it's not that at all! I don't regret it, not even a little bit, it's pretty much the opposite," I explained. "I'm happy and that felt different, it caught me off guard."

"Just a big emotional release then?" He questioned with a smile, waiting for me to nod in confirmation before stretching forward to place a kiss on my lips. "I love you."

I felt my heart swell from how casually he said those words and I couldn't hold back a grin as I rested my forehead against his.

"I love you too."

We soaked in our moment of bliss for a few minutes before we realized that it really was time for me to go. I was slow and reluctant as I peeled myself out of bed, still desperate to keep this peace that we'd found undisturbed as long as possible, but it was nearing six o'clock and the threat of Grayson waking up was increasing by the minute.

So, after pulling Chris back in for one last kiss, I snuck off back to my own room.

-

Surprisingly, I fell asleep again almost as soon as I crawled into my own bed. The excitement and stress of the last twenty-four hours had me more tired than I realized and I didn't wake up again until just after eight o'clock.

As I laid in bed, trying to wrap my mind around everything that happened, I found myself feeling strangely nervous about going downstairs. I could have stayed in bed with Chris forever - away from the world and prying eyes, just the two of us soaking each other in as we made up for lost time - but things were always harder when you integrate them into real life. I tried to reassure myself, convince myself that we were the same as before, just with more kissing and wonderful orgasms, but that seemed like a bit of a stretch.

We'd spent so many years keeping each other at arms length to dull the pain of not being together and avoid any signs of our feelings slipping out. I had no idea how to act around him now that we were together.

I knew that hiding in my room all day wasn't going to solve anything though so after a quick shower, I headed downstairs.

It became clear that I'd missed breakfast as the noise of laughter floated in from the living room and while I smiled at the sound, I headed to the kitchen in search of coffee first.

I thought I'd snuck down quietly, but I'd barely put the cream in my drink when I felt hands on my waist and lips against my neck. I tensed, feeling my nerves bubble back up to the surface, but I turned in his arms to face him.

"Good morning," Chris smiled before leaning and pressing a soft peck on my lips. I forced a smile in return, but my brain was racing and Chris picked up on that right away. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "It just feels weird. Being able to touch you or kiss you or whatever. I resisted for so long, it seems odd to do it now."

"Sounds like someone is overthinking things," Chris teased as he raised an eyebrow. "Because you literally threw yourself at me in front of my entire family yesterday with no hesitation."

My jaw dropped as Chris smirked down at me.

"I did not throw myself at you," I protested. "At least, not how you're implying! I tackled you in a sporting situation!"

"Ah," Chris' smirk widened. "So, you admit it was a tackle then?"

"You made sure the point didn't count," I reminded him as I rolled my eyes. "I don't understand what you're trying to prove."

Chris chuckled and pulled me closer causing me to instinctively put my arms around his neck to help me balance against him.

"I'm trying to prove that you used to touch me plenty without a second thought," he informed me. "And I remember because I savoured every little touch."

I couldn't hold back a teasing and somewhat patronizing 'awwwe' at that admission and Chris mumbled a gentle 'shut up' before forcing me to do so by pressing his lips against mine.

I was cautiously mindful that we'd agreed not to tell Grayson about this for a while - and that making out in the kitchen gave him a pretty good opportunity to catch us unaware - but it was just too hard to resist the sensation of Chris' tongue sliding against mine and luckily, it wasn't Gray who stumbled upon us.

"Wow," Scott let out a low whistle. "What do we have here?"

I felt my cheeks heat up, like we were teenagers caught by a parent, as I pulled away from Chris. He turned back to face his brother, a smirk on his face.

"Surprise!"

"Is it official?" Scott asked, the grin on his face warming my heart. He seemed genuinely giddy for us. "When did this happen?"

"Last night," Chris answered, looking down at me with a goofy smile. "And yeah, I'd say it's pretty official?"

I nodded, letting my hand slip into his and squeezing it gently as Scott let out a 'whoop' of excitement.

"I'm happy for you guys! It's about fucking time!"

We laughed at his enthusiasm as the patter of little feet on the floor alerted us to an incoming presence. I let Chris' hand fall away from mine and picked my coffee up instead, trying to look casual in a way that was probably unnecessary when dealing with an oblivious three year old.

"Uncle Scott said a bad word!"

Scott rolled his eyes as he ruffled his nephew's hair.

"I swear, that word is like a bat signal for him," he joked. "Every time I say it, he appears out of no where!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't use bad words at all," I pointed out, smiling as Grayson wiggled away from his Uncle's hand. "Then Grayson wouldn't have to keep you in line."

"You're right," Scott sighed with another roll of his eyes. "Sorry, Grayson. I'll try to remember not to say it."

Grayson nodded, pleased that his language policing was successful before turning his attention back to me.

"Mama, I need help."

"With what?"

He dashed across the room and grabbed my empty hand as he tugged me towards the door he'd just come through.

"My new dinosaur puzzle," he explained. "It's too hard."

"The one from Grandma Jane?" I asked, referring to the birthday gift that my mom had sent him. He nodded in confirmation as we walked into the living room. "Oh, that one did seem tricky. It's pretty big."

He nodded again as he sat down in front of where he'd scattered out all the pieces. He'd managed to get a few of them together correctly, but most of what he'd assembled had been wrongly forced in to place. I rested my mug on the coffee table and sat down next to him. He eagerly climbed into my lap, with a puzzle piece in each hand and bit his lip in concentration as he attached one of the pieces correctly to the ones he'd already connected.

"Good job! See, I don't think you need my help. You're great at puzzles."

"I do," he insisted. "It's too big."

"Okay," I agreed. "I'll stay here just in case you run into trouble."

Grayson flashed me a smile and got back to work as Chris settled in the chair facing us. I noticed he was on his phone, but I didn't realize he was taking a picture until he turned it around to show me. It was a lovely photo, from the focused look on Grayson's face to the soft, affectionate smile on mine as I looked down at him. Since there weren't usually many other adults around when Grayson was with me, I had always regretted that we didn't have many pictures of us together. He would humour me for the odd selfie, but candid photos of us were few and far between.

"That's nice," I smiled. "Can you send it to me?"

Chris nodded his head before his lips twitched into a smirk.

"I just signed up for Instagram actually," he informed me. "Maybe I'll post it on there."

I snorted a laugh at that suggestion as I shook my head.

"Your fans are already sharpening their pitchforks and lighting their torches after that recent interview, are you trying to get me killed?"

"Maybe it'll help," Chris shrugged, but the smirk that was still firmly planted on his face told me he wasn't serious. "It'll be less fun to gossip about us if I just post pictures of you all the time."

I turned my attention back to Grayson for a moment to help him find the right spot for a piece before looking back over at Chris.

"I don't think that would work," I warned him. "When did you get Instagram anyway?"

"A few days ago, but I haven't posted anything yet," he admitted. "I don't really know how to use it."

"You're such an old man," I teased him with a laugh. "Why did you even get it if you don't know how to use it?"

He shrugged again as he answered while Gray let out a little cheer as he put several more pieces in place.

"It's good for promoting stuff. Which will be important when we launch A Starting Point."

"That's true," I nodded. "And you can post all those 'thirst traps' that your fans love."

Chris raised an eyebrow and his age showed again when he questioned me.

"Thirst traps? What's a thirst trap?"

"It's when you post..." I paused to cover Grayson's ears briefly. "Sexy selfies to deliberately rile people up."

"Oh my god," Chris tossed his head back as he barked out a laugh. "I don't do that. The only selfies I post are of me and Dodger."

"I've seen the pictures," I reminded him. "You always make sure those bulging biceps are on display."

"That meets your definition of a thirst trap?" He raised an eyebrow. "You're easy to impress."

Now it was my turn to smirk.

"Or maybe I've just been really thirsty for you these last few years."

"Gross!" Scott protested as he walked in, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. "If you're thirsty, I can get you a glass of water. Any other type of thirst should not be discussed while you're around me or your son."

I apologized, despite the giggle that slipped out, knowing that was a perfectly fair request. Chris, however, couldn't resist taunting his brother.

"Oh, I think she'll be fine," he informed him. "I quenched her thirst pretty well this morning."

I gasped and covered Grayson's ears even though he'd already heard the inappropriate thing his father had just said. Luckily, he was too young to understand what it meant, but Scott pretended to gag as he clearly got the joke.

"Okay, from now on, there will be none of that talk around me," Scott demanded. "No euphemisms, no jokes, no inappropriate touching or you two can go stay somewhere else and Gray and I will stay here together.”

I squeezed Grayson tight as I shook my head, displeased with that idea.

"We'll behave," I assured him. "Sorry, Scott."

Scott accepted my apology on the condition that we follow his instructions and Chris shot me a wink from where he sat.

I bit my lip to hide a smile so as to not antagonize Scott anymore and I took a moment to appreciate the situation. There was a lot of terrible, dark stuff happening in the world right now and I was incredibly grateful that we had a little pocket of brightness to bask in.

-

Chris and I soon found ourselves settled into things and getting swept up that new relationship bliss. That period of time that was filled with sultry glances, discreet touches taken during any possible moment, flirtatious giggles over silly little things - we were revelling in it all.

We did our best to be subtle - to keep Grayson unaware and to respect Scott's very reasonable ground rules - but from the near constant eye rolls from Scott, we weren't as discreet as we thought we were. He got particularly annoyed during our Mario Kart competitions as Chris' goal had shifted from winning every race, to taking out Scott so that I stood a chance. It was not a natural skill for me - I came last every time under normal circumstances - so I was grateful for any assistance I could get and made sure to thoroughly reward Chris for his help.

For the most part though, we'd reached a kind of peace that was nothing short of revitalizing. It was absolutely amazing to me how refreshed I felt now that we'd taken the plunge. I hadn't realized just how crippling our situation had been for me or the amount of energy I'd wasted fighting and suppressing my feelings for Chris. Now that we were together, it was like a fog had lifted on my brain. I had more energy and woke up with an excitement every day that I hadn't felt in a long time. I loved Grayson and he brought me a tremendous amount of joy, but there had always been a hole in our lives. I known that all along but now that the hole was closing, I was starting to realize just how big it had been and how detrimental it was even if I’d had the best intentions.

However, it only took about a week for the complications to start and all because Grayson was in a mood.

He woke up that way, as kids sometimes do, but it seemed like nothing we tried to do could help him shake off the grumpiness that he was feeling.

He fought Chris all through breakfast, he scowled all through his favourite morning cartoons and we narrowly avoided a meltdown when Scott headed out on his roller blades with Dodger and left Grayson at home. (He was an excellent uncle, but he gave Grayson more than his fair share of attention and we respected his need for some time to himself). After a good fifteen minutes of sulking and stomping around, I managed to distract him with his favourite train track, but even that relief was short-lived.

He played happily with me for almost half an hour, but he was still carrying a lot of tension in his body. It all came bursting out as soon as two of the pieces of track wouldn't slide back together as easily as he would have liked. Before I could offer any assistance, he let out a growl and tossed the pieces at the wall and kicking apart the ones we'd connected on the floor.

"Okay, Gray," I sighed. "That's enough. We don't throw our things around like that. You need to pick them up and put all this track away."

Grayson crossed his arms and shook his head.

"No."

I braced myself for a long stand-off as I nodded.

"It's not a choice," I insisted. "Come on, I'll help you."

"No," he told me firmly. "You do it!"

"I'll help you," I repeated. "But it's your mess, so you need to clean it up."

Grayson was unswayed as he continued to shake his head, but before I could try anything else to persuade him, Chris poked his head into the room we were in.

"I'm making lunch," he informed us. "Do you want a grilled cheese sandwich, buddy?"

A smile burst onto Grayson's face.

"Yes, please!"

He scampered over to the doorway where Chris was standing, but I was quick to voice my protests.

"Not so fast," I warned him. "You need to clean up all this track before you can do anything."

Grayson's face fell as he realized that he wasn't going to get away with his escape.

"No!" He snapped. "You need to go home!"

I was taken aback by that suggestion and how fiercely he demanded it, but Chris didn't hesitate as he jumped to my defence.

"Grayson, don't speak to your Ma like that," he scolded him. "Let's pick it up together and then we can go have some lunch."

"No, I don't want to!"

His voice was rising as he stomped his foot for dramatic effect and I sighed.

"I did offer to help already, but he wasn't having any of it."

"Well, we've got to get this mess cleaned up," Chris shrugged, throwing a few pieces in the tub as an example. "We can't leave it all over the floor or it'll get broken."

"I don't care!" Grayson insisted. "You're stupid!"

There were tears of frustration building up in his eyes as Chris winced at his uncharacteristic insult. I frowned, feeling my patience slip away despite my concern for why on earth Grayson was so wound up.

"Gray, that's not a nice thing to say," I sighed. "What's going on with you today? Why are you feeling so frustrated?"

I kept my voice soft and tried to hide my own feelings of frustration, but it did nothing to calm Grayson.

"I'm not!"

It was clearly a lie, but I threw a few more pieces in the tub, hoping to inspire him to help a little bit.

"See, look," Chris gestured to me. "Your mom will pick up the pieces on this side and you and I can do the ones on the other. Deal?"

"No! No deal!"

"Wow," Chris mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. "What is going on with him today?"

"I have no idea," I murmured back to him before turning my attention back to Gray. I moved over so I was kneeling in front of him and tried to look him in the eye despite his best efforts to look away. "C'mon, buddy. We can't do anything else until this mess gets cleaned up, so why don't we just get it over with and do it fast?"

"Go away, Mama," he demanded. "Go home! We don't want you here now!"

I knew his words were said out of anger and that he didn't mean it, but I couldn't deny that they hurt, especially with how passionately he spat them at me. I was momentarily stunned, but Chris leapt to my aid again as he appeared at my side, kneeling in front of Grayson as well. His jaw was tight, a clear sigh that his patience was thinning as quickly as mine.

"Grayson, that's not true," he insisted. "We love having your Ma here."

"No, I hate it!"

"Oh, do you?" Chris matched his scowl as Grayson nodded. "Well, you better get used to it because things are different now. We've decided that it would be nice for us to be a family."

"Huh?"

Grayson's eyebrows wrinkled together in confusion and my heart sank. I wasn't sure what Chris was thinking, but this wasn't how I wanted Grayson to find out.

"Your Ma and I love each other very much," Chris elaborated. "And we want us all to be together all the time, so you guys won't be going home anymore. You won't have to go back and forth."

Grayson's brow furrowed even more as his bottom lip wobbled for the few seconds it took for him to burst into tears. Chris looked shocked and I cringed as Grayson ran out of the room, the sound of his cries echoing up the stairs until his bedroom door slammed.

"Chris..." I started once the house was silent.

"I know, I know."

Chris shook his head as he stood up and helped me to my feet, but I wasn't about to let this go.

"What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," he admitted. "I was frustrated. He's been hard work today."

"I know he has." I was agreeing, but my tone wasn't one of solidarity. "But it's best not to inform children of massive life changes out of frustration or while they're in the middle of a tantrum!"

Chris huffed and crossed his arms, looking not unlike Grayson had only minutes before.

"He shouldn't talk to you like that."

"He's three, Chris!" I reminded him. "You can't drop bombs like that when he doesn't even understand what you're talking about! And, for the record, I don't remember ever agreeing to move in here permanently."

Chris swallowed hard as a frown slid onto his face. He looked worn out and if I wasn't so annoyed, I would have felt sympathetic. This had been a trying day during a very trying time and we were all just doing the best that we could. But that applied to Grayson as well and as difficult as he was being, he didn't deserve to have that news thrown in his face in a way he couldn't even comprehend.

"I just assumed..."

"I know you did, but that's something we need to discuss before you bring it up with Gray."

"It makes the most sense."

"Maybe so," I shrugged. "But we're moving a little bit fast here, don't you think? Two weeks ago we were barely speaking and now you want me to fully move in with you?"

"You've already moved in."

"It's different though," I insisted. "This is temporary, most of our stuff is still at home."

Chris looked down at me, the sadness and disappointment on his face making him look even more like a little boy, but his sad face wasn't the one I was most concerned about right now as my thoughts moved back to Grayson.

"Look, clearly we have more to discuss and work out, but I need to go check on Gray right now."

Chris still looked downtrodden, but he nodded.

"Alright, I'll come with you."

He moved towards the doorway, but I stopped him.

"Do you mind if I talk to him first?"

His face fell again, but he moved out of the way and wordlessly gestured for me to pass by him. I stretched up to place a kiss on his cheek and mumbled a 'thank you' in his ear before heading up to Grayson's room.

-

I knocked when I got to Grayson's door, but was unsurprised by his rude response.

"Go away!"

His tone was angry, but it sounded like his tears had subsided and I was grateful for that. I ignored his request and slowly opened the door, the sight inside almost bringing tears to my own eyes.

He had a little bag on his bed and was packing his things into it. The important stuff, of course, like all his favourite toys, but it broke my heart that we'd upset him so badly.

"What are you doing?" I asked quietly. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I'm going home," he told me, not looking away from his current task until he decided a clarification was needed. "To our home."

I sat on the bed next to where he was packing, trying to take the surety with which he spoke seriously.

"How are you going to get there?"

He was unfazed by that logical question as he answered.

"I'm going to walk."

"Walk?" I raised my eyebrows. "Wow. That's impressive. I don't think that I could even walk that far."

He faltered then, suddenly looking a tad less confident in his decision.

"Can you take me?"

"We can't go back there right now," I informed him with a sad smile. "We're not allowed to go anywhere right now, are we?" I paused while he shook his head. "So, if we went home, we'd have to stay inside that tiny little apartment all day every day. That wouldn't be much fun, would it?"

His face fell as he tried to wrap his mind around that and his bottom lip started to quiver again.

"But...I miss it."

Almost as soon as he finished speaking, he burst into tears. I hated seeing him so upset and was relieved when he let me pull him into my lap.

"I'm sorry, baby," I cooed into his hair, rocking him gently as I rubbed his back. "Things have been kinda strange for you lately, haven't they?"

He wailed out a 'yeah' as he nodded his head and I held him tightly, waiting until his tears subsided to try and offer anymore comfort. Once the sobs turned to sniffles, I spoke again.

"Daddy shouldn't have told you that we'd be staying here forever because I don't know if we are," I assured him. "Daddy was just frustrated because you were hurting my feelings when you said that you wanted me to leave."

"I don't want you to go home..."

His words were quiet, weaker now that he'd shifted from angry to sad and I wasn't sure which made my heart ache more.

"I'm not going home," I promised. "But things have changed between Daddy and I, like he said. We love each other and we want us to be a family. You know, like how Stella, Miles and Ethan all live together with both their parents."

I wasn't explaining it well, but I hadn't had the time that I'd hoped for to plan a simple and informative way to tell him and I was winging it. It wasn't working apparently as I felt Grayson shake his head.

"No, thank you."

I leaned back a bit, using my sleeve to wipe his eyes as I looked down at him.

"Why don't you like that idea?" I asked, a bit surprised by his negative opinion on the matter.

"I miss just Daddy time!" He told me, his eyes still glassy with tears even though they'd stopped rolling down his cheeks. "And just you time!"

It made sense. He spent almost his entire life having nothing, but one on one time with us and now suddenly he had none. We thought he would enjoy the opportunity to be with us both together, but it wasn't unreasonable that he would also miss that quality time with us apart as well.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry. We didn't realize you were missing that, but we can still do it," I suggested. "You can have some time where you just play with Daddy and some time when you just play with me if that would make you happy?"

I kissed the top of his head and reminded myself that we were doing our best and hadn't purposely caused any unnecessary stress to our child as I squeezed him close and he nodded his head.

"Yes, please,” Grayson sniffled out as there was a knock on the door and Chris poked his head in.

"Everything okay?" He asked. "I heard crying..."

"We're okay," I assured him as I patted the bed next to me. "You can come in."

Chris didn't miss a beat as he crossed the room and sat down next to me, the worry on his face making me feel bad for not letting him come up right away.

"Grayson was just telling me that he misses having time with us by himself," I explained. "He doesn't want it to be family time all the time."

"We can do that," Chris nodded. "You're the star of the show here, buddy. We want you to be happy, that's the most important thing."

Grayson looked at him suspiciously, but Chris continued before he could argue.

"I shouldn't have said that you have to move in here once all the germs go away," he assured him, flashing his eyes up to meet mine as if he was talking to me as much as he was Grayson. "You two can decide that when the time comes. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm not scared," Grayson frowned at him. "I don't care."

I chuckled at his insistence and gave him another squeeze.

"Well, you cared a minute ago," I reminded him. "But if we make some extra effort to have some one on one time, do you think you'd like to give it a try being a family? Because I do think that I would like to try it."

Grayson twisted his face into a slightly over the top, pensive look before he eventually nodded.

"Phew," Chris matched his dramatics as he wiped his brow. "Because I think your Ma is really pretty and it's really hard for me not to do this all the time..."

As soon as he finished speaking he leaned over and pressed a sloppy kiss on my lips. I laughed against his mouth as Grayson's giggles surrounded us, followed by his shrieks of protest as he tried to pull our faces apart.

"Daddy!" He scolded Chris. "That's gross!"

Chris chuckled as he shook his head.

"You won't think kissing is gross one day."

"Yes, I will," Grayson shot him a cheeky smile. "I always will!"

Chris growled playfully as he pulled Grayson off my lap, dragging him back down onto the bed with him. His fingers were moving frantically as they tickled his sides and Grayson's giggles reached almost deafening levels.

Their laughter was contagious though and I couldn't hold back a giggle of my own as I watched them.

I was relieved that Grayson seemed to have come round to the idea of things changing. I assumed he didn't fully understand what we were talking about or what it truly meant, but the fact that the idea of change had stopped bringing forth floods of tears was rather reassuring.

I had hoped that keeping him in the dark for a while would give Chris and I some extra time - time that would give us the chance to back out without any unnecessary heartache - but seeing them together now, I realized that would be next to impossible.

Even if Grayson was unbothered by any dissolution between Chris and I, there was no going back for me. They were two of the most important people in my life and just the sight of them laughing and playing together was enough to have my heart close to bursting. I was invested and in over my head, but I was more determined than ever to make it work.

We deserved a chance at being a family and it was undeniable that there was more than enough love between the three of us to make it work with just a little bit of effort.

-

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00

[masterofmunson]

driver’s license ~ part one

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader

Summary: Things between you and Harry were going great. That was the case until he blindsided you and broke your heart by leaving you for his co-star. Based off the song Driver’s License by Olivia Rodrigo.

Warnings: language and angst. covid doesn’t exist.

Word Count: 4.4k+

Author’s Note: Here she is! I’m sorry it’s so delayed. School has really been kicking my ass. Consider this my anti-valentine’s day fic. This will be a two or three part mini series, I haven’t decided yet. Please let me know what you think! Comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and appreciated! Enjoy!

It felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest. It’d been several weeks since you saw Harry last. He returned to film Don’t Worry Darling and you were left feeling empty and buried yourself in your work. Whatever was happening between you and Harry was up in the air.

You’re friends. You’re the best of friends, at least you were for a while. He wrote a song for you. You kissed him. He kissed you back. You were happy, and then all of a sudden he became a stranger to you. You don’t recognize the person you’ve come to know.

“Harry? I thought you couldn’t take me driving today?” you asked one evening as he stands on your doorstep with slumped shoulders and a nervous gaze. You’d texted him earlier about driving around the area and his answer was short, but not out of the ordinary for him.

Now, staring at him, something was clearly wrong and he looked like he would rather be anywhere than in front of you on your porch. “Is everything alright?”

He lets out a nervous breath and bites the inside of his cheek. You open the door wide enough for him to step inside. He rings his fingers together. “Sorry, I should’ve called,” he said, his eyes roam around the foyer of your apartment.

Your brows knit together. He’s acting strange. He shows up unannounced all the time and it’s never bothered you before. You’re friends and slowly testing the waters to be something more.

“Harry, what’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”

The silence is deafening and it sends a chill down your spine. He looks down at the floor and the lump in your throat grows. You fight back tears. You know exactly what the silence means. He’s having second thoughts about pursuing a relationship with you. Your worst fear is coming true.

“You’re having second thoughts about our relationship, aren’t you?”

Harry swallows hard, nodding slowly. “Sort of. I don’t regret it, and I still very much have feelings for you, but I’ve had time to think. I just don’t think it would be fair to start our relationship right now. I don’t want to distract you from what’s important to you and I have the press tour coming up as well as my tour. I want you to be happy and you won’t see me for months at a time.”

You don’t really know what to say. You want to scream and shout at him. None of that mattered before the two of you kissed. He would see you whenever his schedule allowed and you traveled to see him whenever you could. He was your best friend and you made an effort to make your friendship the way it is.

You’re used to the distance. You’re used to the texts, phone calls, and FaceTiming him. It’s how you stay in touch when you’re thousands of miles apart. Why would it be any different now that you’re together?

You try not to cry. It’s such a piss poor excuse to end things between the two of you. After all you’ve been through together, he’s ending it because he’s scared.

“Are you kidding me, Harry? You’re ending whatever this is because you’re scared? I made the choice to kiss you that night. You made the choice to kiss me back. You’re my best friend. I don’t care about the distance. I want you,” you confessed. A tear falls on your cheek and you turn your head away from him to wipe it away.

Harry sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry. You deserve better. You deserve stability and I can’t give you that, at least not right now.”

You let out a shaky breath to try and mask the sob creeping up your throat. More tears gather in your eyes and against your better judgement, you let Harry reach for your face. His thumb brushes against the shell of your cheek and you lean into his touch. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and you hold the hand pressed against your cheek.

A few tears fall and he gently wipes them with the pad of his finger. You sniff quietly and come to your senses and pull away from him. You wipe your nose and let out an awkward laugh. You rock back on your heels and nod towards the door.

“You should go.”

He nods slowly and walks towards the door. He opens the door and turns to look at you one more time before he leaves. You look away. He’s seen enough. You can’t let him see you break further. It doesn’t matter if he’s your best friend. He’s breaking your heart.

The door shuts behind him and you gasp for air as you let the tears fall. You grab at your shirt and fall to the floor. You bring your knees to your chest and cry and cry.

You never thought the person you loved and cared for the most in the world would be the one to hurt you. He gave you a bad excuse. Why did he change his mind? Was it something you said or did? Was it because you weren’t an A list celebrity? You were just a small time producer working in your family owned studio.

It was by chance that a friendship blossomed with the rock star Harry Styles. His own music producer called in sick one day and you filled in for him. You had been friends ever since and occasionally helped him with music every now and then when you weren’t busy with other clients. It was one of the reasons why you had yet to get your driver's license. You were too busy to take the time to learn and you lived in the city so you didn’t really see a need to get your license. You could Uber or bum rides from your brother to the office if you had to.

Did you read too much into things? Harry had written a song for and about you. He told you that much. It was sweet and romantic. You kissed him and it was reciprocated. You didn’t trick or trap him into doing something he didn’t want to do. He confessed his feelings and then you kissed some more.

How would things pan out between the two of you now that he’d broken things off? You couldn’t go back to how things were before. You can’t forget the way he kissed you. You can’t just forget and ignore the way he made you feel. Maybe he would, you thought bitterly.

Harry was notorious for sweeping things under the rug and acting like nothing happened. If he doesn’t address it, it didn’t happen. You won’t let him do that to you. It’s cruel and painful. It’s pure torture.

Now, several weeks have passed since Harry showed up at your doorstep and broke your heart. Since then, you’ve put distance between the two of you. You don’t go out of your way to reach out to him and if he sends you a message, you take hours to reply. Your older brother Malcolm has taken Harry’s place as your driving instructor and he doesn’t ask what happened and you appreciate it.

It’s still a sore subject and you go out of your way to avoid Harry when you know he’s scheduled to work in one of the studios. Everyone’s noticed the change in behavior but no one asks questions. You keep your head down and busy yourself with work. It keeps you from dwelling on what could’ve been. You don’t have the time for such things at work.

It’s a different story altogether when you’re at home alone. Everything reminds you of Harry and you feel utterly pathetic. You drown your sorrows into cheap wine and poorly written romcoms. It’s easier than doing something stupid like drunk texting him.

Now, in hindsight you definitely shouldn’t have been drinking on a lonely Tuesday night. You hadn’t planned on finishing the bottle, but you lost track of time and soon enough you were opening wine bottle number two and finishing it just as easily as you did the first. You know better than to come into work with a raging hangover, but you couldn’t call off. You had a scheduled client that had been on the books for weeks.

Stumbling into the building, you push your sunglasses up the bridge of your noise and trudge to your office. You turn the lights on and close the curtains. Collapsing into your chair, you groan loudly and pull your water bottle out of your work bag and take a long sip.

There’s a gentle knock on the door and you look at your brother through your sunglasses. He laughs softly and steps inside, shutting the door behind him before taking the seat in front of your desk. He leans back into the seat and playfully kicks his feet up on your office table.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls upon the room and Malcolm drinks his coffee slowly. “Can I ask what happened between you and Harry? Wasn’t he teaching you how to drive?”

The question makes your heart drop deep inside your chest. You figured that Malcolm knew that something had happened between you and Harry. You were never in the office when Harry stopped by. Malcolm knew that you were close with Harry, but he didn’t know the extent of your relationship.

You were still figuring out what to label what the two of you were when Harry broke things off. It was still hush hush and kept between the two of you. Nothing fundamentally changed your relationship with each other. All your friends and family as well as his knew that the two of you were incredibly close. No one would’ve known you were seeing each other.

You let out a deep sigh. You tell him everything. You tell him about the song he wrote for you. You tell him how you kissed. You tell him how you’d been seeing each other, going on dates, and acting as everything was normal for the last few months. You tell him how Harry came to your apartment unannounced one day and completely broke your heart just several weeks earlier.

It’s hard to get through and tell him everything with tears gathering behind the sunglasses on your face. Another wave of silence fills the room and Malcolm sits up in the chair and reaches across the table for your hands. He squeezes your hands firmly and you force a smile on your face.

“I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that,” he said. “When you’ve sobered up, let’s take you to the DMV. I don’t want this rite of passage to be tainted with bad memories. It’s about time you get your license. Your car definitely has a thick layer of dust on it.”

You laugh loudly and pull the sunglasses from your face. You wipe away the last of your tears and nod slowly. Malcolm smiles gently and it makes you feel better almost immediately. You could always count on him to make you feel better about a shitty situation you’re going through.

Several more days pass and you are finally a licensed driver. You feel like you’re on a runners high. Now you understand why Harry and the rest of your friends enjoy driving so much. You feel free driving along the coast as the sun sets every evening. It’s made you much happier in recent days.

At least it did.

It was only a matter of time before something ruined your mood. It had been touch and go in the last few days. You could breathe a little easier knowing that Malcolm knew why you were acting and behaving out of the ordinary. He understood. He’s had his fair share of heartbreaks. You don’t have to bottle it in, not when Malcolm knows and doesn’t judge you for it.

When you come to work several mornings after your trip to the DMV, you’re met with odd looks as you walk towards your office. All eyes are on you and it makes your heart drop.

What happened? Was it your dad? Was it Malcolm?

You hurry into your office and throw your things down and barely register that Malcolm is already in your office. You practically jump out of your skin as he shuts the door behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Malcolm!” you screamed, spinning around and clutching your chest. Your heart races and leaps into your throat. “Don’t scare me like that!”

Malcolm stares at you and frowns apologetically. His face is somber and his posture is rigged. He motions for you to sit down.

“You should sit down.”

You stare at him carefully. You cross your arms over your chest. “What’s going on?”

“Please sit, and then I’ll tell you.”

You huff and roll your eyes at your older brother. You collapse into your chair and motion for him to continue. He lets out a careful breath. “There’s no easy way to say this, and you were going to find out eventually, but somehow TMZ got a hold of private photos of you and Harry together.”

Confusion washes over you. You don’t understand. That doesn’t seem too bad. There’s plenty of photos of the two of you on the internet. It’s an occupational hazard and it’s expected if you’re friends with someone like Harry.

“That doesn’t seem so bad. There’s plenty of photos of us together on the internet. Being photographed together isn’t a crime. We’re close,” you reasoned.

Malcolm noticeably winces and your heart drops inside your chest. “Normally, I would agree, but these are…. different. They’re photos of the two of you kissing at Griffith Observatory.”

Oh no. Oh no. Oh shit.

You and Harry had gone on a date to the observatory just a few days after you kissed and confessed your feelings for one another. It was nearing sunset and it was nearly empty of tourists and locals alike.

You were careful not to draw attention towards yourselves. You were having fun and being silly together. You’d been taking photos together and of each other. An elderly couple even offered to take a few photos of the two of you together.

They were incredibly sweet and thankfully had no idea who Harry was. One of the photos they took was your lockscreen for the longest time. You were happy and full of bliss.

“W-What?” you stuttered in disbelief. “How? That was months ago! We were careful and no one recognized him.”

Malcolm shrugs and it doesn’t make you feel any better. Of course he doesn’t know. “There’s more.”

You groan. Could it get any worse? His fans will destroy you if they haven’t already. You lean back in your chair and Malcolm just stares at you.

“There’s photos of Harry and Olivia Wilde together. He allegedly took her as his plus one to Jeff’s wedding. They’re holding hands and look…. close. There’s rumors that they’ve been dating for the last several weeks.”

A wave of nausea washes over you. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You feel like you’re about to pass out. You feel absolutely disgusted. You don’t know what to say.

You’re hurt and you feel betrayed. Harry had abandoned you when the better option rolled past. His second thoughts about your relationship had nothing to do with the distance or his crazy schedule. It had everything to do with his beautiful, successful co-star and director Olivia Wilde.

It makes you feel sick to your stomach. You’re in no shape to work. You’re a disaster and it feels as if your heart is being stabbed a thousand times.

What happened? What happened to the man you love and who claimed to love you? Someone you love isn't supposed to hurt you the way Harry has. He makes you feel like trash thrown on the side of the road.

You scramble to your feet and hyperventilate as you grab your things from on top of your desk. You race out the door and ignore the stares as you leave the office. You ignore Malcolm shouting after you and climb into your car and take off.

Your grip on the steering wheel is tight and hurts your palms. You ignore how fast you’re going and you drive, and drive, and drive.

Nearly an hour has gone by and you pull off the highway and make the exit towards Newport Beach. You park in an empty lot near the public beach and stare out into the ocean.

You scream in the car. Your hands shake the steering wheel and you cry, and cry, and cry. You feel pathetic and used. How could you ever believe that Harry would ever want to be with someone like you? You’re practically a nobody. It doesn’t matter that your family is in the music industry. You’re not a pop star or an extremely talented director.

Your hands shake and you reach for the tiny, beat up journal tucked away in the bottom of your work bag. You open the door to your car and pop open the trunk. You grab the blanket from the back before locking up and trek up towards the shore.

You sit down in the warm sand and close your eyes. Your shoulders relax as you listen to the crashing waves nearby.

Another wave of tears find their way at the corners of your eyes. This time you don’t try to hold them back.

Your shoulders shake as you cry and you feel utterly defeated. You’ve given Harry way too much power over you. He doesn’t deserve you and you don’t deserve to be treated like someone that can be taken and put back on to a shelf.

You open your journal to a clean page and begin to write. Memories with Harry come to mind and you write, write, write.

“I can’t believe you’re working on Olivia Wilde’s new movie,” you told Harry in awe on the day he broke the news to you. “I mean, I can. It’s just amazing! Just promise me you won’t leave me for your sexy co-star,” you teased.

Harry laughs and kisses the top of your forehead. He gives you a warm and soft kiss to your mouth. “I wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” he whispered. “I’m crazy for you.”

You grin at him and he pulls you closer in the soft sheets of his bed. His touch engulfs you and you sink deeper and deeper into him.

Tears dampen the journal as you write and cry, write and cry. You look away briefly, rubbing at your cheek, ridding it of your tears.

What happened? What went wrong? You loved him with your entire being. Why wasn’t that enough? Why weren’t you enough?

A broken sigh leaves your lips and you turn back to your journal. You write some more. This time, a memory from before the two of you kissed comes to mind.

The two of you sat on top of the hood of his car. The beach is nearly empty as it nears sunset. You eat ice cream and watch the waves crash against the shore. Harry nudges you playfully as takes a spoonful of his strawberry and banana blizzard.

“I think it’s about time you learn how to drive,” he said with a mouthful of food.

You laughed and rolled your eyes. Of course he’d say that. He’s probably sick of being your personal chauffeur and taking you everywhere. You guess it’s time to learn.

“Yeah? Is this your way of telling me that you’re sick of driving me everywhere?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes too and smiled. It made your stomach jump. “Nooooo. I just want you to drive up to my house once in a while. Is that so bad?”

“I guess not. Who do you suggest I should ask to be my teacher?”

You were teasing him. You just wanted to get a rise out of him and it worked. He gasps and shoves you gently. You laughed and he frowned at you.

“If I haven’t made it obvious, I’m teaching you. God knows what’ll happen if you get behind the wheel with anyone else.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing and bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. That fucker. He knows exactly what to say to get you to take the bait. You scoffed and finished the rest of your ice cream and Harry does the same.

“I’ll teach you in the parking lot for now.”

By the time you’re done writing, you’ve filled nearly five pages in your journal. Words are scribbled out, phrases reworked and rephrased, lines scratched through a number of stanzas.

It’s painful. It’s sorrow. It’s complete and utter heartbreak. It’s vulnerable and raw. It’s what’s become of your relationship with Harry. It’s beautiful.

You stopped crying a while ago. The remains of your tears stain your cheeks and it doesn’t bother you. You gather your things together and return to your car.

This time as you sit in your car and grab the steering wheel, you don’t scream pathetically or shake the wheel. Instead, you look out at shore, the ache in your heart reduced to a dull throb in your chest.

When you return to the office several days later, you ignore the sea of eyes that follow behind you as you trudge to Malcolm’s office. You’re on a mission and you will see it through.

The door to his office is closed and you quickly push it open. “Hey, Malcolm, I wrote something and I want you to—”

You don’t know what you expected when you opened his office door without knocking. He’s told you countless times to knock before entering, but you’ve never listened. You should probably knock now.

Jeff sits in the chair closest to the door. He turns his head to look at you. He gives a courteous smile. Your heart drops inside your stomach and you slowly close the door.

“What’s going on?”

“I think it’s best if you sit down,” Malcolm said, motioning to the empty seat next to Jeff.

“I think I’m good standing right here,” you replied defiantly, resting your back against the door. You cross your arms over your chest and glare at the two men in front of you. They share a glance before Malcolm looks back at you.

“Jeff and I were just discussing our options on how to handle the PR situation going on with you and Harry.”

You let out a bitter laugh. Since when has any PR stunts ever been handled by Harry or his team? They’re notorious for ignoring it altogether. It’s a part of his brand. His fans even know that he sweeps things under the rug. Why would they want to handle it? Any PR is good PR, according to Jeff at least.

“Since when did you start caring about bad PR, Jeff? It is because I’m a nobody in an industry that only cares about the elite? Or is it because Harry being seen with someone who isn’t a celebrity is bad for his brand?” you asked sarcastically with an eye roll.

You feel a wave of tears threaten to fall at the corners of your eyes. Your chin quivers and you bite the inside of your cheek. Don’t cry, don’t cry, do not cry. You’re done crying over Harry.

“Y/n, that’s not true. He’s in the middle of filming and we’ve carefully made it seem like he’s with Olivia Wilde. It’s to help promote the movie,” Jeff defended.

You click your tongue to the roof of your mouth. “Right, because everything’s about Harry and what’s best for him. Do whatever the fuck you want, just leave me out of it and don’t talk to me again.”

You leave his office and ignore the stares as you leave the building. You can’t be here, not when Jeff is just feet away from you. You’re sad, angry, and hurt. You just want to punch something.

You return to your car and scream in frustration the moment the door shuts. Harry didn’t even come to fix the situation himself. Instead he sent his manager to do all the dirty work for him. He still hasn’t said sorry for the hurt and pain he put you through. You doubt he’d even apologize for the hell you’ll get from his fans.

You drive home and change out of your work attire into comfy pajamas. You settle in front of your piano and mess around with the soundboard nearby that’s connected to your computer before pressing the record button.

It goes on like this for hours. You splice the instruments together, fixing and editing the tempo, sound, and bass here and there. It’s a tedious process, but one you love. You carefully place the headphones over your ears and swallow hard before you begin singing the lyrics on the main track. After you add a variety of harmonies and melodies to give the song more depth.

Then it’s over. The song’s finished and recorded. It’s perfect. It’s everything you imagined it would be when you wrote the lyrics on the beach. It’s vulnerable, but it’s beautiful and it’s you. You didn’t need Malcom’s help to produce the song. You did it all on your own, like always.

You lean back into your chair and stare at the computer file. You couldn’t publish it. It won’t see the light of day. You’re not meant to be singing the songs you write. You’re meant to share and produce them for artists that are infinitely more talented than you. Maybe you could sell the rights to someone like Billie Eilish or Ariana Grande. They could do the song justice.

No. It’s too vulnerable, too you. It’s only meant to be sung by you. It’s yours, no one else’s. You don’t need a second opinion. If things were still good between you and Harry, he would encourage you to release the song.

Maybe that’s why you set up your camera and took photos to create your own album art for the song. Maybe that’s why you watched the file slowly render in Apple Music, ITunes, and Spotify. You hover over the publish tab.

You hesitate. There’s no going back. Once it’s uploaded, there’s no way to delete it. The song is out there forever. People will link it to Harry in a matter of minutes, that much is obvious, but you don’t care. You’re doing this for you and no one else. If Harry could write songs about his exes, so could you.

You click publish, and exhale deeply as the song appears in the system.

There’s no going back.

[songofsongs214]

Hi friends, I’ve got some thoughts I wanted to share. And for the record I’m loving all of our speculations, analysis, and the fact that we’re all freaking out over a 3 second promo 😂 I love this show.

So let’s discuss this whole undercover Lucy story we’ve got going.

First off, I will say that I’m not a fan. It was hard watching those scenes where Lucy’s ptsd was triggered and the “party scene” meh. Could have gone without. Although, Lucy is a badass and Tamara there added a dilemma I wasn’t counting on. I didn’t think Nyla would go that far but probably necessary. I honestly enjoyed Tim and Nolan more in that episode.

So now that I’ve got my bias out of the way , it makes sense to me for Lucy’s character to go into this arc. This character has been wanting to prove herself since the pilot. We knew from her backstory that she was floating though life with no direction and was fighting for her parent’s approval. So then She joined the police academy, met Nolan and Jackson and finally found that support and encouragement she was craving. Then she dated Nolan. Which makes total sense she gravitated toward an older man who was in the same place in life as her. He was recently found and found companionship there.

Now as we go through season 1, the dynamic with Tim is established. Now I think there was an attraction with the characters but both didn’t really want to acknowledge it and subconsciously never considered it (now us as the fans watching it know better lol). Lucy is a natural born test taker so she complained so much about his tests and some of those Tim tests were pretty unkind but they trained her to perform well under that kind of pressure. I think her character secretly not so secretly loved it. She thrives from the banter, the push-pull, pranks, and ultimately the challenge. It was what we enjoyed the most as an audience and it bonded her and Tim without them even knowing it.

Another aspect of Lucy Chen is that this woman craves a stable loving romantic relationship. Peppered throughout seasons 1 and 2 she makes multiple comments about romantic relationships and how she is upset that she’s still single ( honesty pretty realistic for this age group considering I find myself personally in this boat 😂). Then Caleb happens.

She is tortured, branded and buried alive. This is a huge trauma and I wonder if the writers took the route of showing her suffering through her trauma in a more subtle way and realistic. I work with trauma survivors pretty regularly and a common thread is that trauma affects more than just the physical parts of an individual. One sign of there being existing trauma is numbing. Lucy went forward with Emmett and she physically was present with him but not emotionally. Which is why I think he broke up with her. And Tim calls this out into the light too. She jumps into work and continues to excel with Tim tests and feels a little less alone when she glimpses the softer side of Tim and feels safe enough to share parts of herself.

Then, her first taste of undercover work. From the outside it looks exciting, fulfilling, dangerous and requires a high level of skill and improvising. It’s appealing as hell because not everyone can do it; it’s for a select group of people. Shes drawn to it because it makes her important. It gives more meaning in her mind. She is someone unique and it makes her traumas obsolete or even an asset to her.

That “confession” to Tim was a turning point in her relationship with Tim. Not only was he starting to consider it and reflect on his feelings for her, she did too. All those reasons were too specific to just pull out of her bum. Plus it was prpbobally easier and less scary for her to say these things she was prpbobally already thinking on a controlled way where she was in control and hoodwinked him. Then that beautiful scene in the garage. Tim gives her exactly what she needs and continues to be her encourager and she got to end with a flips bomb, a bit of fun.

Then she graduated from the fto program. She knows what happened to her during this program and she feels an accomplishment. Then her mom and her have that scene. Not only is her mom disappointed in her, but she invalidates who she is based on the choices she’s made. That would break any person. Because it’s not just they don’t like her job they don’t like her. They love her but won’t support her.

Which brings us to these crop of episodes. Lucy looks up to Nyla. And she remembers how she helped her after she came back to patrol. She sees the undercover world as a challenge and something she can make people proud. It was very telling to me to hear the dialogue with Grey that she “wouldn’t let him down”. Grey makes it a point to tell her you don’t have to do that. But she’s already in that mindset.

Again the natural born test taker in her takes over when Nyla starts to test her. And that narcotics guy was honestly a shadow of Tim Bradford. ( no offense to the actor, just not a fan of the character). He wasn’t set up for me that I would want to get to know him better. Tim Bradford was a much more hardened character who spiraled out the first half of season 1, but I always wanted to know more. This guy: no thanks you can go now.

Finally, this character wants to do undercover because honestly in her mind she doesn’t have anything else going on. She’s still a cop but like “the elite kind” doing this mission. She’s proving to herself that Caleb didn’t “ruin her” ( I read that in a fan fiction, it belongs to Emma). Her trauma has meaning. She wants to prove herself and she doesn’t have a romantic relationship that she cares about and no backing from her parents. I think she’s realizing her feelings for Tim, but that’s all it is at this point ( oh the slow 🔥). It’s a realization. Now this wedding will reveal to her and Tim maybe there’s more that she can do with her life than be another person to feel like herself.

In conclusion, Lucy’s character would be drawn to undercover but we as an audience have seen so many examples of how undercover work ruined people’s lives. Starting with Isabelle then Nyla and now Mack. But I think it’ll take some time for Lucy to see it for herself, because to her she thinks she’s invincible and it won’t happen. Which is why we need this not to be a seris finale, there’s too much to get into.

And my plea is that everyone who has loved the rookie would watch on Sunday and on streaming sites after to boost those ratings to the highest it could be. Because even if we all get clowned on Monday, if we get another season there’s more story to see.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk :)

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 20.1)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

DOUBLE UPDATE FOR A WEEK Y’ALL! MWAH MWAH! PLEASE DO LEAVE A FEEDBACK BEFORE YOU GO---OR MAYBE A REBLOG WILL BE NICE FOR MY EFFORT. Hehehe. Thank y’all!

CHAPTER 20

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Sometimes other people's stories were actually not just a tale of fantasies when the protagonist in the story can't even give you an answer to soothe your insecurity, curiosity and fear over being alone in a dimension you didn't belong in.

Warnings: Soft, touchy and caring Geralt. Insecure and anxious reader. Brooding witcher. Baths with the witcher? Mention of Yennefer. Nudity. Angst. Geralt being too blunt and saying...things. Heh. Don't hate him later please? 😥😘 Mention of Parallel Universe. Doppelganger. Ingrith is just a character I made up, alright? she ain't a part of Yennefer's story in the games, books or show. 

Words: 7.6k

A/N: So, Yeap. I wanted to leave ya with all these angst. Hehehe. COMMENTS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED! MWAH! *waits for comments about people cursing Geralt lmao 😂😂* @casualfansoul​​ You’ve been such a sweetheart! BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEETIE! I hope you’ll love this chapter dedicated to you! Mwah! 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! This is kinda a rough draft. I apologize for many errors.

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be.(Credits to those who made the GIF’s. Some don’t have their watermarks included. I don’t remember where I’ve saved the others from)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"Will you tell me why you are utterly cranky all of a sudden?"

Face to face with the rim of the wooden bath, you've had your knotted brows in a twist. Pout oh-so-long that Geralt knew as he sat behind you, seeking answers for your upset state. He'd gotten you out of your clothes; forcefully must you say. Earning a glare from him as he was peeling your clothes away like he was caring for his sick, pouty child.

No complaints were accepted as he'd given you the idea to care for your wounds in the tub. Downright secretive about wanting to feel the comfort of your nudity grazing against his without any monkey business going on.

The witcher has received constant grumbles and whines of protests as he poured the potent medicine that evaporated through the fresh wounds; painful enough for you to shriek while his arm surrounding your waist tightened with every whimper of your sobbing self; shushing your cries with a soft coo of his endearment on your ear and the feathery nuzzle of his nose against that tiny spot behind your ear while he soothes your pains.

They've fully had injured your back with more than just wallops. He'd knew by the looks of the lesions, the people in the castle has even burnt your skin with metal; scorching metal that has given you scars that would forever haunt oneself. The mere thought tormenting him by their brutal punishments; keeping him all in wonder when he has never received any violent retorts and schemes from you as they did everything in their willpower to strike a hand. Your submission making the witcher glower behind as Geralt caught sight of such deep wounds whilst taking off the gauze; seeing blood seeping out of the healing skin as it was a sign that he really and badly needed to treat your body.

Sobs were emitted while he watched your wounds dry from the potion he'd mix, receiving kisses on the cold, sweating nape of yours every now and then. A gesture that Geralt started doing when you were shrieking in the midst of being poured by such elixir while you felt his breath on your skin. Sweetly kissing through your pain and lowly humming that you were going to be okay and you've been good.

It felt like all the energy downed on you after he'd stop and was done pouring the elixir everywhere around your body. The warm water lining on your chest turned colder when you've slowly leaned your back on Geralt, hissing from the soreness but actually ending up loving the warmth that he could only give while he kept his burly arm around you, your lips still in a pout while staring at the bed from the far corner of the room; basking in the witcher's silence before he asked.

His question gotten you unready for an honest answer as he bluntly shot the query out, planning to resolve the problem with you in the best way that he thought. Being forthright.

"Hmm." you hummed back in displeasure, sounding exactly the same like how he does.

The corner of his lips lifted in a small smirk, his voice vibrating at the back of your head and against his chest. The buzz keeping you calm and at ease rather than being alone in the castle when he haven't arrived yet. Your anxiety giving you such trauma that made you want to sob again.

But, Geralt's distraction to stifle your cries has technically been useful when he felt you sigh again, watching your face from above and behind to see a frown etching to grow. He heedlessly fetched a cup of water with the palm of his hand, delicately pouring your cheek with water as he gruffly quipped.

"That's my line. Not yours, Midget."

Geralt repeated his gestures with you, lightly damping your hair with water as he gently brushed your tousled wet hair with the spaces of his fingers, keeping them light and comforting which made you lean back a lot more, accepting his gentleness after being physically whacked in harsh moments prior before he came around---your purpose of being upset has now been forgotten by his unfamiliar gestures that was tickling your spine with ants racing on your skin because of how his actions was giving you cavity. A sweet tooth.

Just being held so softly felt good in real life---you didn't know how comforting it feels even back in earth, but right now was just the right time to feel how you would yearn for it when Geralt wouldn't be around.

"I told you, before I even realized that you were important to me was after you've made a wish to the Djinn."

Your swollen cheek fell on the skin of his biceps; sighing while you stared out of nowhere and finally held onto his arm surrounding your waist, keeping you still and steady in his arms. His nudity becoming not much of a problem for you now because it was an experience that you could never forget; eventually having the privilege in familiarizing his body just like how a lover does while he did the same to you.

Though, his imperfect beauty could still get you blushing nevertheless as he liked seeing yours no matter how insecure you get---but he seemed to admire your nakedness a lot which he received with a 'men versus boobs' explanation that his kind of gender would always love the idea of breasts no matter how big or small as the same goes for a vagina.

You'd received a pleased hum after that and also some horny witcher begging and trying his best to get your clothes off in his sneaky techniques.

"I know. I'm sorry I was cranky, Geralt."

The white wet-haired witcher pursed his lips, looking down at your face as you've felt his gaze heavy while he calmly spoke.

"It's...alright. But, must it be for Eanraig to see and hear?"

You've given him another sincere, sweet and soft apology. Caressing your thumb over the top of his scarred hand which was under the waters and he'd let you graze over the tiniest marks on his fingers and palms, swaying under the bath water. Breathing calm and collected while he stayed in bath with you; cherishing such moment again that could get his chest feeling the lightest out of all the times he lived in the continent; more freeing to than the one he had with a particular sorceress whom he had also been connected with; via Djinn.

His free hand lifted away from leaning onto the edge of the tub, reaching down to sweep your hair to the side. Clearing the space on your neck and such wounds from the shoulder blades, others being a scar from his potent medicine that he has poured.

"I remembered your skin clearly in the back of my head. Thoroughly silk like a bairn's bum,"

He paused, prolonging the silence as he gently danced his fingers on the skin of your shoulders; too tender that it began to lick your spine, igniting the tiniest shiver when you've felt the soft, warm feathery feeling of his lips giving your painted shoulder a peck of his specific comfort that he only gives to people who have turned his world a much better place than how much of a hell it has been.

"Now, you are scarred." Geralt grumbled against your skin, giving one last kiss and making everything all worth while as he was still around. Continuously denouncing what they've done to his family---even beating Jaskier to pulp.

"---They've...turned you like me,"

You've slightly turned your head to see his amber eyes withdrawn from reality. Thoughts probably plaguing his mind while he scowled. A simple purse of your lips, suggesting to receive a small, quick buss has Geralt dipping his head down to sweetly smack your lips to his, letting him feel that you were there; finally there with him physically and he didn't need to worry.

Thus, it was just like that. Geralt and his presence, including such soft gestures that you rarely receive nor see that he does for anyone and a soundly kiss has let the upset feelings go away, simply just like that.

Even though, he has never confessed any love yet---this was forging you both to understand what connection you have for each other. Though, clearly unspecific and undistinguished. Or was this his type of love? a love never needed to be told for it can be felt?

The question here, does he even love you? was this love?

Partially turning around in his arms to see him gazing back at you, Geralt seemed to be nonplussed and introverted with his thoughts. Keeping words to himself while he was giving you a solemn frown of his face, examining your swollen eye that you tried pulling him out of his regret and blames with a quirky tone of your voice; sounding like nothing has happened to you nor have you been battered to bruising limbs.

"When are you going to leave?"

"After I take care of you, midget." he deeply murmured, watching you like a hawk with golden eyes as the candle light was making his eyes glow prettier than usual. You grabbed a handful amount of water with your palms, arms sore as you reached up to pour water on his face that surely gotten a deep, complain of his humming when it made him close his eyes from the uninvited rainfalls of liquid.

The fading colored grime has been softly scrubbed off by the pad of your damp thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. His gaze was utmost heavy, shooting you a warm, loving sensation on your chest; surrounding the fading Cicatrix that somehow turned insipid after the nights before with the witcher.

You couldn't help but notice his grouching and grumpy self as he scanned your face with an affectionate flicker in his amber that made you tut. The gentleness you were giving was a thorough unfamiliar feeling he always received from you despite of your negative characteristics---though, he doesn't mind it at all---sometimes, he does but that was beyond the point when he felt comfort from you and aspire to give it back despite of not knowing what and how comfort is to a witcher.

"Stop being such a wild cat---Let me guess, you haven't gotten to have your nap again?"

Geralt huffed out a breath of complaint. A short, low growl that made you giggle quickly when you wiped his face with your fingers; playfully glaring at how you were bathing him.

"When did I ever?"

"It seems like you haven't had it last night again---Stop scowling like you want to strangle me," you lightly poked the dimples of his nose that got him deeply growling his protests. His expressions completely emotionless as he turned his face to avoid your play-time; considering on biting your fingers off to stop annoying the heck out of him.

Howbeit, Geralt went on in silently letting you touch his face. Mesmerized by how his scars really never affected his beauty and probably added perfection over his gorgeousness. The witcher mutely let you trace the bridge of his nose and the scars on his face whilst intently staring at your face in return.

"---Until you came along," he surprisingly continued the topic, never breaking his gaze as he'd seen you lean closer to his face. The tangy scent he was familiar in recognizing from you, mixing with the medicine on your skin. Yet, it didn't stop him to wait for what you had in mind. Your bruised, healing lips brushing against his that made both of your chests tingly for over such sweet intimacy that you've both eventually become accustomed with.

Geralt pursed his lips for your thirsts to calm down; such desperate feeling that both parties yearned for. A twee, syrupy connection of your lips on his---a kiss that made warmth spread through you like an angel's halo trying to make you holy and worth for his affections.

Men in your world will certainly not impress you anymore. Geralt of Rivia has raised the bars of what men should be---he'd ruined the normality of what you expected from such gender because you believed that they may not reach the level of what you've felt for him.

Love as you may see now.

But, it can be quite blurry of a picture for a future that you do not hold or knew how it'll be for the both of you because you've teleported as a miracle that nobody expected to receive.

"If I---If I die---" your pessimist self started to run your mouth over Geralt. Yet, he was quick to cut you off with a sullen chide and an avoidance of your gaze with a grumpy sigh.

"Stop. Don't." he groused with the mouth ends pulled down, "---You're not going to die,"

"What if I do?"

His eyes turned penetrating as if he wanted to tell how much you are wrong about that argument. Those cat-eyes of his; sharp and making a stand for the idea he didn't want to accept.

"I will never let that happen. They can have me hunt down whatever they want, even slice a throat of a nobleman or a monster but I will never let anything happen to you,"

The witcher gently scooped water with a palm of his hand, pouring them over your face. Coming forth with a scrub of it as he shoved his large palm that made you shriek against his hold while he lightly scoured your face as a gesture to clean you more inside the bath; avoiding your healing bruises.

"---I don't want to hear that again while I give you a bath,"

Darkness suddenly turned into seeing Geralt's stony stare after being suffocated by his hand that was suddenly shoved on your face, "I'm sorry," you immediately tried to woo over his vexation, your face wet from the bath water he tried to rinse you in, an involuntary response of your arms slipping around his bare waist shocked your consciousness because of how touchy-feely you've become around him.

The latter welcomed your apology and touches, humming in appeasement for your quick sorry; knowing your way with him and reading that he could not tolerate such physical-contact from you without liking the feel of your skin, you've leaned your body more to him---your naked chests flushed together that got him curling his lips in a small smile whilst feeling your forehead fall on the side of his neck, nuzzling with an apology.

"I-I didn't mean to upset you,"

Quietude embraced you both. Sitting in a tub. Entirely bare for each other to see but it was so wholesome for the betterment of your relationship with him; nurturing what understanding you both have for each other, not entirely specific nor knowing what it is. As a matter of fact, you do know what you felt for him, but not the other way around.

"She..She isn't a queen in my world,"

Bamboozle screamed inside his eyes for your statement, his fingers gliding along the small of your back under the waters as he hummed in curiosity.

"Hmm?"

You've remember the time that the queen has visited your cell. Retched between the hatch of the door came in view was your kind boss who wore the finest set of golden, silk, long gown with rich trimmings. She stopped by to check on your victimized state with a glaze of ignorance in her eyes. She didn't care for your condition because if so, she wouldn't have left the slammer with a quiet scoff.

Out of all the people who could turn out evil was a queen in Geralt's world and a boss you've highly given respect to.

Nonetheless, in this world; it seemed to be like the opposite personalities of how people had been in your world.

"Your queen. Queen Makeda. She's named Angela Cincinnati. The boss of mine who also works in the pizza parlor that I'm in,"

Geralt has leaned back on the edge of the tub in a relaxed posture, lifting his other hand every now and then to pour water on your hair that tickled your insides because of how cold the water has been already. His warmth being your therapy while thinking such hypothetical answers for what mysteries that the continent has been giving you. Jotting down possibilities that a typical earthling could try to guess like they were watching a very interesting movie.

"Does this mean I have someone who looks like me in this world too?" pause. "---Does she have a better life than me?"

Your witcher cocked his head to the side as he was in deep thought over the woman who looked like you. His mouth opening and closing for whatever shit he wanted to say because Savia has been the person who ruined your future by creating such crimes being pointed at you because you looked like her twin.

"Worse. I can say that you had a better life than her and also complicated yours at the same time," he gravely informed.

"My doppelganger then? have you already seen her?"

"Will you try to find her if I say yes?"

"No. I...don't wanna scare her with this drama movie I'm in."

You've leaned away from Geralt and his consoling cuddles, trying hard to rip your body away from him when all you wanted was to bask in his own embrace. Splashing your face with more bath water, he'd given you a curious glint of his eyes. Fixating his gaze on your bare form, subtly sliding his focus on the depths of your neck and wanting nothing more than to give more sweet busses of care. Geralt ignored the modern reference you've muttered about being in a movie and found it more interesting to appreciate the nudity you've freely have been giving him.

It's not like you were naked all the time. The witcher snickered to himself; appreciating the best view of you that he can ever get.

"The water's cold now. Are we done?" you softly whispered, the thought of your doppelganger out there; like a twin from another mother and dimension that you didn't expect to have. It was interesting to know, but frightening to actually see the real her because people like your doppelganger who lived in the medieval era might not be a great sight for the woman.

Geralt grabbed onto the end of the tub, whisking a thin, Ivory robe that was made of silk as he deeply grumbled, "Stand."

You've stood on your feet, hopping off the tub entirely dripping wet from the bath water; feeling eyes heavy on your body and raking over your nudity from behind. The heat started to rise up your face again, making you clear your throat when you've turned your body to grab onto the robe that Geralt has reached out for you. His keen peepers grabbing the chance to shamelessly rake your body in silence.

He'd received no refusal or a loud scolding after thinking it through that he had the liberty of doing so; also, the idea being a gift after trying to protect you from any harm and sacrificing over an endless hunt just for the Kaedwenians to cease their punishments.

"Hmm. A movie. I missed watching one. Though, It's not like if I ask you to go on a date with me again, Geralt---A movie date this time---watching a movie with you will never happen," you turned your head at your front, slipping your arms inside the short sleeves while tightening the knot around your waist; frowning when the witcher couldn't see your face. The truth beginning to bother you when problems began to rise and for such abrupt topic that lingered along your consciousness.

"---Because you and I both live in different worlds, it's like they collide."

Geralt kept his mouth hushed. The loud splash of water echoing around the room when he left the wooden tub; strolling behind to promenade past you. His stark-naked self never bothering him after the night you both had each other. Basking in more of his nudity especially when he slept; knowing that he was mentally complaining over how reserved he needed to be while you slept beside him, his clothes very uncomfortable because of the heat he was feeling.

Basically, he did not know the meaning of clothes after the night of ravish; constantly taking his slumbers in the nude as he covertly tried to wrench them off you as well with his witcher needs.

His bare back and derriere was displayed before you, the distinct foramen of his brawny back giving you a loud greeting as he grabbed onto his trousers on the end of the bed, lending his ear and slipping on his leather pants that was bursting through the seams because of his thick thunder thighs and curvacious derriere.

"My world and yours, they sound like a parallel universe that I completely don't understand even back in earth, it's too complicated to know---too scientific for my thriving brain,"

Quick panic-stricken questions were sent to the witcher; the motion of the words hasty and apprehensive because of such negative ideas forming inside your head; skyrocketing like a plague in your mind while Geralt wore his breeches, not trying to take cover in front of you.

You couldn't help but shift your eyes constantly at Geralt and the queen sized bed, his gigantic biceps straining along his movements while buttoning his pants; lowly grunting from each pull of the hem to fit his curvaceous, muscled arse that you couldn't help but clear your throat, forgetting what you needed to say for a second and being distracted over your trembling anxiety.

You eyes took heed of the opened windows where the brisk wind was slipping in a breeze, seeing how you could see the pale moon from afar. A guess telling you that the room was in a high place. In a few short strides, you've looked out of the window, peering up the Tartarean night sky to meet the moon in its full glory, finding no flaw that you were in a different planet and not yours.

Confusing and complicated to understand in your human perspective because nothing human was basically being shown as you lived in their world.

"This...This is your earth. Your continent. While my earth out there also exists without any one of you knowing. What if I have a count down while I stay in your world---what will happen to me---would I get to stay alive forever in this world when I have been too dependent over you?"

Heavy strides alarmed you for Geralt's presence who loomed behind your back. His mouth curled down when he has heard your questions; feeling no trust in between you both, hesitance scrambling your way and filling your heart when it hasn't been there before you even came to the castle. It was baffling him for your curiosity and determined self to seek answers when he has no answer to it at all.

The sorceress has probably told stuff to you, he silently thought as he brushed a hand over your arm and clothed shoulder. The roughness of his palm colliding against your bruised ones as he tries his best to provide what you needed; not knowing what because of how he does not understand this kind of relationship with women because it has always been typically greed, lust or a needed release to calm his overly mutations.

Except for you, Yennefer or Renfri because he actually really cares.

"Do you not want me to protect you?" he gravely mumbled behind, seeming to be slightly taking umbrage after hearing the queries.

"You're only doing this because you have no other choice just like how you've told the king that I was your betrothed when it isn't true at all,"

How sure were you to say that it wasn't true?

Reflecting and debating his thoughts over your judgement, Geralt marred an agonized frown that creased his forehead. He rarely does claim such label but he didn't regret the action after hearing how it made the king lessen the punishments for you; excluding all planned damnation. The witcher had no explanations about the moment he had called you his betrothed nor did he want whatever you were thinking about his actions.

Hence, it instantly made him cantankerous when he hasn't been feeling it before you opened that mouth of yours again.

"You think I have done it with a purpose I don't understand," he incoherently rumbled in his baritone timbre. Slightly pulling away from his own touch on yours to turn around and walk through the end of the bed to wear and grab onto his armor and under shirt, half naked with a straining back; all rigid and stressing under the skin.

"Geralt---"

"With the mishaps of my world and yours, if I ask you to stay; will you leave your kingdom?"

He'd turn his foot around to see him slip the under tunic over his head, the scowl prominent making him appear stony; dour and solemn. His eyes eager while it reflects the candle light on the side of the bed. Reading through the golden hues lay a pining greed that the witcher never knew he craves for; such hungering he does not know that he wanted to find and receive when it was his own faults over not having it because when he feels a deeper connection with someone, the white wolf suddenly becomes disfunctional; pushing her away because of not spitting the truth about his feelings.

He was capable of it; having feelings over another. Love as people may describe but he was in denial and can be reflective, the processing quite slower than usual because he had never received love through out his lifetime; not even a mother who actually cared.

No one.

You didn't understand him; what he really wanted to say or do because his words were spoken on a race track, passing through the chuckholes that could get you knowing what his true feelings were.

Was he letting you stay out of love or out of pity that you were lost, vulnerable and needed adoption?

"Do you believe in love, Geralt?" you've countered back, feeling the warmth spread around your chest for skipping around bushes over the real meaning behind your words; sounding like a confession if he was smart enough. The warmth spreading through like wildfire, scathing your skin as it felt like it was burning from the reality you were seeing.

"---Or are you only doing this because of the Djinn incident? you're only feeling this way for me because I came around while Yennefer isn't?"

The latter gave a grim frown upon the mention of her name. Just like how he always does when Jaskier says her name when it shouldn't been uttered. Now, it was your turn to give a grouch. Your feigned smile joyless when Geralt was unblinking from your unexpected argument.

Was this true love you have with him? Did he even feel the same way when he can't even say the word at all? or will you both hate each other until it grows into spite?

Will you eventually be killed by the hands of a man you love as said by Eanraig's understanding over the curse set between?

"I've heard from the sorceress that you have been finding Yennefer from her a month before I came along and that this connection I had with you also had been the same with that Vengerberg. What if she comes back around? what will happen to me?"

Ingrith has said more information than you can bear. You weren't just physically pained but also mentally as well for whatever bullcrap she wanted to address. Palms over your ears were the only solution to shut the truth off as it echoed around the dungeon. She'd smirked when you've whimpered from the stones, the back of your sweater drenched in blood for using hardened sticks which had pointy twigs; never believing what they were doing to you as they also tried to throughly kick your stomach.

The men who were ordered to do so had no idea why they've been commanded to batter your torso, but you knew it had something to be involved with the cunning sorceress because of how she'd given another dagger of her gaze lingering on your middle like you would magically grow a baby inside of it when it was impossible from the start because of Geralt's infertility.

The witcher was like a bomb about to detonate. Though, the explosion never came other than a tight clench of his jaw. Geralt was wearing a lour like a bad omen over being interrogated; debating over answering the confusing truth that left him debating over himself as well. He has never remembered the sorceress until you've mentioned her; remembering that he'd taken full measures to even try finding Yennefer's long lost cousin for a plan to get back with her and earning nothing in return.

"You're blathering complete nonsense, Midget. You've also been listening to Ingrith when I told you not to. She's cunning and will do anything to ruin you---kill you,"

Your mouth turned upside down; tighter and pensive for being swerved again, "You didn't answer my question." an exasperated huff was let out, "---she was once important to you. I've heard from your bard; you had adventures with her, shared powerful moments that are exactly the opposite of what we are having---she's the first woman you've loved. A powerful, independent lady that you will never regret having in your life because she can defend everyone---and I'm...just me,"

You didn't know what has gotten to you. The insecurities lighting up the sky, constantly reminding you that his existence can be a mere catch of your dreams because he was too good to be true---or jealousy infecting your blood into thinking that he would leave you alone when he never had yet?

Perhaps, it may be how proud Jaskier has told you that she was powerful that it has intimidated you. Her name seems to be beautiful and there was no doubt she was when he has been avoiding of hearing her name.

He had probably been devoted of Yennefer when a tight frown couldn't be erased upon the lips you have been kissing---thoughtlessly thinking that it was genuine or had any meaning to it.

"Really, what am I to you? "

"My home. Also equally important."

"More important than her? Do you dream of her?"

"You know I don't---not anymore."

Not anymore, he said. So, he does dream of her before.

Crossing your arms over your chest, your fingers went straight to the sleeves, anxiously rubbing over the silk against each other for the dreading beats of your heart, your eyes turning to look away as you quietly spoke; highly aware of an expected rejection.

"If I tell you what I really feel about you, will you give me an answer?" you softly spoke to the chilly air embracing your fidgety form.

"---Because then, you will know my answer about staying in this world you're in."

You've turned your head to see him wearing a permanent pucker of his brows, veiled with furrows of indifference and a look of betrayal. Your bluntness being a detriment because of giving an indefinite answer as well, avoiding his question and misunderstanding the sour expression on your face a while ago.

"Is it hate? Disgust?" he gruffly gnarled. His attitude turning colder like an executioner's ax, unaware of the slight wince on your face because of how glazed he appeared to be.

"---because I am highly aware of what people see of me. I am at loss for what Ingrith must've told; lies or what may result that I am seeing you look at me like I've cast the Djinn's curse on you when you have never looked at me like that at all,"

He spat those words with a sardonic drip of his tongue. The frown darkening his expression more than it ever was.

"Don't blame me on this one, Geralt. Don't shift my words like I think so lowly of you when you and I both don't know the real deal between us with the Djinn incident,"

Geralt loudly exhaled his breath through his nose, marching towards you with the face of an angry ape. Disbelieving what he was comprehending from you, saying that what you shared was beyond reality; like he has been told by it the second time. Your words inconspicuous of loudly saying that maybe what you were both feeling was magic after all; having the presence of the Djinn around  for another relationship that he was having.

"You don't want to stay," he ceased his footsteps, looming before you. His irritation suddenly intimidating like a bulldozer when you realized he was bigger than he could get if he was mad at whatever you've done; or probably it was just your point of view because you were feeling small over his blaring anger.

"---Isn't that what you wanted to say?" Geralt emphasized much clearer this time, drawling his words with a hopeful hint that he just misunderstood you and he was right.

"What---? I didn't even said that! Give me a reason to stay then! I am in shambles for your way of thinking right now!"

He had a wide-legged stance; leaning onto more of your personal space while his Aureate eyes deeply stared into yours. Volatile and blazing as it looked like a fixed glare, baring his teeth as it curled---his fangs slipping through as he bluntly spoke.

"You aren't being entirely forthright,"

You couldn't help but cross your arms tighter against your chest, shuffling on your feet as you mentally gasp from his retort. Defensive as his attitude was beginning to irritate you too.

"Well, you aren't being forthright too!"

Geralt huffed before you. Momentarily scoping out the ceilings before peering down and staring right back with blazing peepers. Though, the witcher has never raised his voice on you when you've did. But, you knew he was fuming; seething deep inside, "I don't know what's wrong with you." he gravely mumbled to himself, steaming up from your sudden, churlish attitude.

"---you're a cherub for a while then acting hostile the next. Is this your pathetic insecurity talking or you just hate me all of a sudden?"

Your eyes instantly went wide open and jaw falling slack at how he'd open his mouth. Raising a finger to his chest as you slightly backed away.

"You're calling my insecurity pathetic?" you uttered in disbelief, swallowing hard for having to hear him be this way---though, you knew he was capable of being such because of how blunt he was. But, he was never mean to you as much as calling your insecurity pathetic. Tight lips were given to the witcher who had his chest puffed out for his own frustrations and repulse.

"---Also, aren't you the one who said that maybe this whole thing is actually just the Djinn effects before you've even---! Even---!?" put his pickle in a jar. Wreck the punani. Ravished you in bed. Shared Netflix and Chill despite having no Netflix in their world.

You shook your head for stammering, quietly growling for the annoyance he'd given after basically taking care of you---expecting that it was done out of love, just like how you've first initially thought of staying forever by his side when he has asked you to stay in their world regardless of the consequences and disadvantages.

"What's next then? My anxiety is childish for you too? nonsense?" pause. "---You don't even know what I mean---and even have no idea about what feelings I was talking about. You can't even tell me what happened between you and Yennefer without disregarding my question or avoiding the topic---or even cut Jaskier off!"

Standing akimbo, you've narrowed your eyes, tilting your chin to the fullest because of his skyscraper height. The displeasure shown from how your nose was twisted and from how you couldn't control your mouth from taking a marathon.

"If I shut up and never question you about things anymore then it just means that I don't care for you at all when I do so badly. Do you know what this means to me? Nobody has plagued my mind so hard---no other man has filled my mind with crazed thoughts. In my world, this means that I---"

Geralt immediately cut you off. His teeth bared and jaw set as he interrupted you out of the blue, catching you off guard.

"It must be for the better then," he rasped, clearly disgruntled for what he should respond to the quick blatter of your brain. His mind gripping so hard like wires being tightened.

"---It must be for the better that you tighten that mouth of yours because you don't know when to shut up sometimes,"

Geralt had a cloudy countenance from his sudden bark. Suddenly forgetting how to respond after hearing every word inside his head. He shouldn't have cut you off especially when you were about to say your secret---the one you've been delibitating over countless of times inside your head; making everything sure before saying those heartfelt words because it was three words that meant the world to you as it will be the first.

Yet, the witcher had to fuck everything up with his petulant mood.

Your clenched fists turned slack. Expression stolid with your throat tightly swallowing the bane sipping through your esophagus like it was being punished for even hoarding all your confidence over confessing what you've felt for the white wolf. You've rapidly blinked your hazy, cloudy eyes; your chest tightening because it was reading 'rejection' because of how Geralt wanted you to shut up.

Maybe, he didn't need to hear the confession at all.

Eyes cast downward; feeling the medicines he'd given you seep through your skin and making everything numb. You didn't expect the concoction to also numb your fragile heart, experiencing your first heart break. Your palms turned clammy over tightening them over. Passing beside Geralt and avoiding those eyes that was thoroughly regretting what has been said, the bed may seem to be a better place to faint on and cry yourself through the night rather than his comforting arms that you wouldn't get to reject if he'd say his apologies, trying to stop you from crying.

Hurriedly hiding your face away from him, you've sat on the bed with your back away from him. Your face like rain experiencing in the middle of thunder, utterly gloomy and despair for reading the signs in the opposite of what you didn't expect. Forgetting that love shouldn't be filled with expectations so disappointments may be less.

Your toes were scuffing against the carpet with a voice turning smaller, shaky as the tears were threatening to fall and it would be when Geralt decides to talk.

"I hope you didn't say that but...but considering my profound hearing tonight and how angry you made me feel, I suggest that you take care of that monster hunting of yours. I sincerely hope you find that witch. You can throw me away soon so you couldn't hear anything from me again, Geralt. You want me to zip it? I'll zip it, then. Don't bother talking to me if you genuinely don't want to,"

Everything would be perfect. This would've been a utopian scenery when your leading man decides to wrap his arms around you, comforting you from the verge of crying your heart out for his mistakes or for both of yours. But, Geralt was no leading man or a prince that he was highly opposing of. He was beyond repair or a man whom you needed to understand more than any normal one should because of how he was raised and created.

Geralt of Rivia was a witcher you couldn't understand. Hence, he was more human than he could ever get as he decided to be unresponsive. Silent and basking in his own regret. Just like a new potion he'd recently encountered, trying to decipher how it worked---knowing the ingredients to get you simmering down in no time.

It was a wrong word to say. Geralt was sure of it. He was beginning to argue with himself, grinding his own teeth together when he has seen your posture slouch. Your fingers fiddling with the sheets of the mattress, tightly holding them in your hands as you looked outside of the window from the side of the bed, avoiding his eyes.

Then, he heard familiar padded footsteps coming forth outside the doors of your chambers.

Eanraig. He was being requested to be seen for his upcoming hunt in a few hours.

Geralt was dreading to leave you in a state like this because he knew you were mad.

He heard loud taps against the locked door which has subtly make you turn your head towards the doorway without wholly turning your body. A frustrated growl reverberated around the four corners of the room---it was Geralt.

The latter tightly closed his fists on his sides, shooting daggers on your back who avoided giving him attention after his fuming episode, hearing the word 'fuck' slipping through his lips in such an exasperated bark to himself while he padded through the room and grabbed onto his belongings; his weapons and his resentment for such an argument that you blocked him in after receiving a petty, personal attack.

You've heard the lock sliding out of its hook. Swiftly turning on your bed, Geralt was already paving his way out of the door, heavily marching and begrudging. He'd open the door to reveal Eanraig raising an arm to knock a little more louder.

"The king requests for you, Geralt---"

The witcher gave a displeased, unmannerly grumble of his chest. A hum that surely given the druid an understanding that he was not in the best mood to talk, passing through Eanraig as he went straight out of the door with the nastiest scowl he has seen since the moment he arrived.

Lovers Quarrel. He mindlessly thought to himself, watching the witcher strut away and along the stoned hallways like he was bringing all the storm with him. Nobody would notice he was aggravated if they knew him better.

Eanraig quietly shut the door behind him, his eyes meeting your bleary ones that complimented the pouty frown growing more and more when you've realized Geralt left you all mad, never even intending to comfort you, ask what 'feelings' you meant or even bother to tell you that he didn't mean you were pathetic.

In a flash, you've gotten a queasy feeling inside of your stomach which made you grab onto your mouth, your face flinching as you suddenly stood up on your feet, "Little woman," the druid sauntered to where you've strolled---before the open windows as you shot your head out of it, retching after a little while before he was beside you, calmly patting your back to make you feel better.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just...nauseous. Thank you, Eanraig." wiping your mouth with the back of your palm, you've heaved exhausted breaths while the druid ushered you to sit on the bed. Talking in the midst of it, assuring him that it was nothing but just a stomach bug and feeling weary over it, "---Probably because they've beaten me to pulp,"

The Druid earnestly stared upon your pale face. Hands shaky as you grab onto the soft sheets, softly grazing them beneath the pad of your fingers, caressing with such feeble strength. Eanraig scrutinized your condition as you turned your head away with a face falling over your current fight with the witcher.

The latter languidly sat beside you, a genuine smile turning his eyes into crescent shapes that tells he was intrigued and amused over what signs was receiving from you especially the warm, tender aura radiating off you; more than what you can offer like you came in two's.

"Will you wholeheartedly accept the responsibility of being the mother of your witcher's child, little one?"

I hope you loved the double update, bb’s! FEEDBACKS ARE SO APPRECIATED!

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means you couldn’t be tagged, Bb. Please check your settings) @alyxkbrl​​​​ @himarisolace​​​​ @barkingbullfrog​​​​ @ayamenimthiriel​​​​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @turkish276​​​​ @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​​​​ @nympeth​​​​ @amirahiddleston​​​​ @gabethelobster​​​​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​​​ @uncoolcloudyhead​​​​ @melaninstylezz​​​​ @psychosupernaturalhero​​​​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​​ @marvelousell​​​​ @kingniazx​​​​ @angelias134​​​​ @tapismyforte​​​​ @chook007​​​​ @covid-donotenter​​​​ @deadlydemon​​​​ @cheesecakeisapie​​​​ @angelofthor​​​​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum @stuckupstucky​​​​, @shesthelastjedi​​​​, @a–1–1–3, @gutfucks​​​​, @britty443​​​​,  @suhke3​​​​, @shadowclawstudio88​​​​  @ruthoakenshield​​​

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza​​​​, @crazybutconfidentaf​​​​​

General taglist for Henry Cavill: @agniavateira​​​​​, @iloveyouyen​​​​​, @rahdaleigh​​​​​, @silverkitten547​​​​ @henrythickcavill​​​​ @kaatelyyynn​​​  @madelinelina​​​, @summersong69​​​, @raynosaurus-rex​

[giuliafc]

Little Baby in a Crib

Little Baby in a Crib

by: JuliaFC

Read on Ao3 || FFN

When Marinette accidentally discovers the identity of her Chaton, she tries to talk to him about it, but the world seems to be against her. So she ends up recycling the less known heroes Aspik and Multimouse to finally sit down with Adrien and have a necessary and way too much overdue heart-to-heart. Adrinette and Snekmouse. Written for my friend and beta KhanOfAllOrcs, who needed some cheering up!

Betas: Agrestebug, Mia Brown, Etoile-Lead-Sama, Rosehealer02, Malauu-Ladynoir, Genxha, Callmedale, Mansi (shamelesslyromantic). Thank you all so much! Also thanks to Khan, who can't take off his beta-reader hat and proceeded to beta read his own gift. You're a great friend, Khan!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

This is a gift for my amazing friend and beta, KhanOfAllOrcs, who was a bit down and needed cheering up. Hope this will make you smile ^-^

                                              oOoOoOoOoOo

"Little kitty on a roof, all alone without his Lady," hummed Chat Noir, sitting at the usual spot where they would start their daily patrol.

"Hey, Chaton," came Ladybug's voice from behind him, causing him to startle slightly. "I didn't make you wait too long, did I?"

He smiled as he looked at her. "Not at all, M'lady, don't worry. You weren't that late this time."

She sat next to him and bummed her way closer. "What about the song you were singing then? I’ve heard you singing it a couple of times, always when I'm late."

"That song," he said with a little sigh, his gaze getting lost in the emptiness laid out before him, "is very special to me. Not as special as you are, Buginette." He winked flirtatiously and chuckled at her eye-roll reaction. "But still very special."

Ladybug looked at him for a while, noticing how far away his gaze still was and how loudly he had sighed after he spoke. "Care to tell me about it?"

Chat Noir's eyes darted to her face, his previously pensive expression changing to one of pure fondness. "My maman used to sing me this song as a lullaby to help me fall asleep as a baby. It was from a film she ac— I mean, from a film she really liked. I just adapted the words to me and you."

Ladybug smiled. "Your maman sounds like a really nice person, Chat Noir."

"She was," he admitted, "or she is, I don't know. She disappeared a little over a year ago."

Ladybug's smile died on her face, her brows furrowing in a frown, her complexion turning ashen. "Oh God, I'm so sorry Minou, I didn't want to—"

He smiled and looked at her, shaking his head. "Don't worry Buginette, it's okay. You couldn't know." He looked down and was quiet for a long time, letting his feet and legs swing freely from the edge of the rooftop they were sitting on. "I always sing that song when I feel lonely. It makes me feel closer to maman."

Tears filled Ladybug's eyes. How insensitive could she have been? Again she had misjudged him. Again she had let her first impression of him take control. She had thought that the song was just a silly rhyme. She would never have thought that it held such heartfelt meaning to him. To be completely honest, even after Glaciator and even after having known him for all this time, she still couldn't believe that Chat Noir had such a deep and sorrowful side to himself. He always looked so happy, so carefree.

"I'm sorry, Chat Noir. I didn't want you to feel lonely, or sad. I will try to be on time next patrol. Promise."

He glanced at her sheepishly and raised a hand to the nape of his neck. "I'm never sad when I'm with you, M'lady. Shall we start patrol? I can see some people taking pictures of us over there. Wouldn't want them to mistake us for a couple…" He said the past sentence while wiggling his eyebrows, but she could see the way his shoulders tensed and she knew he still wasn't okay.

"Not going to happen, Chaton," said Ladybug, giving him a smug look. His tension eased and he chuckled a little as she let the subject fall. She didn't want him to feel uncomfortable. And besides, he was right. People were indeed taking pictures of them. They got up and Ladybug let the yoyo take her wherever it wanted, followed closely by her partner.

                                                oOoOoOoOoOo

Usually, she wouldn't have thought about it any more. Maybe her brain would have picked the memory out next time she heard him singing the song, but that would have been it. Not this time, though.

The following morning in school, Mlle. Bustier smiled at her students as she fondly stroked her growing belly. "Good morning, class."

"Good morning, Mlle. Bustier."

"Today I need to step out for an ob-gyn appointment which, unfortunately, had to be scheduled during school hours. M. Damocles agreed for me to go, and it shouldn't take me any longer than 45 minutes." She looked at Marinette. "I have assigned a quick project for you to do in pairs. I have already selected the pairs and will give the selection and all the instructions to Marinette. I leave you in the class president's capable hands."

"Will this project impact our grade, Mlle.?" asked Max, sounding a little worried.

"It will. You don't have to finish it today, it won't be due for a while and it shouldn't be too difficult for you to do well. Now if you’ll excuse me…" She beckoned Marinette to come closer and quietly explained the project. Then she dashed out of the classroom looking worriedly at her watch.

Marinette skimmed through the instructions. She really liked Mlle. Bustier and knew she wasn't going to be disappointed with her teacher’s choice. And the project looked so interesting. At least, it did until she looked at the pairing arrangements, and her heart froze.

No, that must have been a mistake on Mlle. Bustier's part. No, she couldn't possibly be paired with Adrien. That wasn't right. That wasn't how life should be. She should be paired with Alya and Adrien with Nino… but the more she read and re-read the list of pairings, the more the names Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng next to one another stood out and made her blood freeze.

On second thought, she didn't like this project. Nope. She didn't like this project at all.

"Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous," came Chloé's trademark comment, waking her up from her bewilderment. "She's been there staring at those papers with an idiotic look on her face for the last few minutes. What are you waiting for, Dupain-Cheng? For Mlle. Bustier to return?"

'That wouldn't be a bad idea,' thought Marinette. But Chloé was right, for once. Marinette frowned as she realised that. "Oh, sorry!" she said instead and looked up. "The project is about researching traditional songs, or songs that have a tradition or a meaning in your family or in your life. We must explain in our project how these songs have shaped our life and how, or if, we carry on using them nowadays. These are the pairings."

She gave Alya a pleading look and carefully avoided glancing in Adrien's direction. "Alya can read them to you all while I go make some copies of the instructions." Her voice rose a whole octave as she said the second part of her sentence. When she saw Alya standing up to take the paper with the list of pairings from her hand, she gave her a nervous smile before literally bolting out of the door with the instructions sheet.

When she came back to class a couple of minutes later, she saw something wrong in the arrangement of the seats. Her heart started beating in her ears when she met Adrien's gaze and he gave her one of his brightest smiles. She blushed to the root of her hair. As usual, her being selfish had backfired on her badly. Alya was sitting in the first row with Nino (as was her pairing) and Adrien was sitting in Alya's place, next to her seat. All the other students had moved to sit with the person they had been paired with. Chloé looked extremely displeased with the pairing arrangements, as she was now sitting at the back, next to Max.

Marinette kept her gaze trained on Chloé and on her pouty, annoyed face as she walked back to where Alya was sitting. It was the best way to hold onto some sanity. She quickly looked at her best friend when she reached her seat and Alya winked, mouthing 'you're welcome' to her. When Marinette passed her the photocopies of the instructions and glared at her, Alya simply picked her copy, passed the other copies along, and smiled smugly, folding her arms over her chest. "I just thought it was a good idea so we could all start discussing our projects in our pairs, Marinette." She raised an eyebrow. "That's what Mlle. Bustier asked us to do in her absence, right? Have fun!" She emphasised the last word in such a tone that Marinette had no doubts as to the double meaning attached to it.

She sighed. She loved Alya. The young journalist was the person Marinette trusted more than anyone in the whole universe. But when that girl got an idea in her mind, it was extremely difficult to make her back out. And, unfortunately, no matter how many times she had explained to her that she didn't have time (or the strength) for romance in her busy schedule as Ladybug, Alya kept riding her 'Adrienette ship'.

After ensuring that everybody had gotten their copy of the instructions, like a criminal walking the gallows, Marinette climbed with heavy feet the step that separated her from her seat and collapsed into it. She didn't dare to take a single look in Adrien's direction for quite a while. When finally she gathered the courage to peek a little, she saw that he was reading the instructions for the project with interest.

"Hi, Marinette," he said and beamed at her. Marinette felt all blood rushing to her face. Oh God, she had thought she was past this. She had managed to actually have a couple of normal conversations with him lately.

She gulped awkwardly and looked up into his eyes. "H-hi!" she said, but when her blue met green, she felt her heart skip a beat. Crap. How was she going to concentrate well enough to do a project with him? Knowing that he had recently broken up with Kagami wasn't helping. At all! As easy and entertaining as the school project may be, she couldn't think of anything and only melted in a puddle of goo every time she caught sight of his eyes. And the way he looked at her. It should be illegal. Seriously, he had to stop looking at her that way. You just don't look at your 'just a friend' like that!

Right?

"Have you got any ideas about the project?" he asked and Marinette's mind finally managed to get out of the self-induced mesmerising she had gotten herself into and attempted to focus on the task.

"Oh yes. The project. Right. Yep. So…" She locked her gaze to the questions on the paper and tried to stubbornly ignore the heat she was feeling coming out of the ray of sunshine sitting next to her. She involuntarily fanned herself.

"—Hot?" he asked, and she realised that she had completely zoned out.

"Uh, yes you're hot. I mean I'm hot. Uh, I mean it's very warm, yes." She smiled sheepishly at him and blushed a little. Then, with immense effort, she moved slightly closer to him and gave her full attention to the instructions at hand. "S-so… about the project…"

"Yes?" he asked.

"I actually have a good one," she said and mentally congratulated herself for having managed to put a whole sentence together in front of him without stuttering or mixing her words once. She closed her eyes and took a big breath, trying to calm the mad beating of her heart. That seemed to work. That and the fact that with her eyes closed, she couldn't see him. "My dad always sings a song when he's baking bread. He's always said that the song helps the bread come out perfectly and if he didn't sing, the bread would be disgusting, no matter how much effort he put into it."

"Oh," said Adrien from her side, bringing her back from her self-isolated bubble. "That sounds really good. Is the song famous?"

"It is," she said and started humming it under her breath and pretending to knead the dough. "Les petits pains pétris avec amour sont bien meilleurs lorsqu'ils sortent du four…(1)"

"Oh, I know that song! The words are different, but it's the aria from the Carmen, isn't it?" For once, it didn't take any effort for her to look at him and nod. He beamed at her.

"L’amour est un oiseau rebelle," she said, turning around quickly and looking at the instructions again. "But Papa changed the words of it."

"Very clever," he said and Marinette didn't have the courage to look at him.

"Yep." She kept her eyes trained on the questions on the paper, trying her best to ignore his hand, mere centimetres from her own. "Made kneading the dough so much more fun! We used to spend hours singing the song and kneading and then having competitions to establish which bread was the best, with my mother as a judge." As she said that, her face got a dreamy expression and she got lost in the fond memories of so many afternoons of laughter and fun.

"I bet!" he said; she felt him nearly crouching over himself. "I wish I had tales as good as that to add to the project."

Marinette looked at him, her eyes now full with sadness. "Oh, Adrien, don't worry, I have plenty of other anecdotes, we can use mine!" She was surprised by how easily she managed to say that entire sentence, just to try to cheer him up. "For example when—" she started, but she saw his eyes light up suddenly; her tongue froze.

"Actually, I think I have one, too." He blushed and moved his hand to his nape, rubbing it nervously when her eyes widened.

"Really? Please do tell!" In her excitement because he had found something to talk about and had cheered up, she totally forgot about her shyness and leaned forward next to him, looking at him expectantly. He gave her a warm smile.

"You remember 'Solitude'?" he inquired and then looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"How could I ever forget?" She sighed and moved her gaze again to the list on their desk. "The time we nearly managed to watch a film together." Yes, keep focusing on the list. Don't look at him. It's working!

"Yeah," he said, his eyes losing the light they had gained seconds before.

Marinette was obviously not following her own advice and had been looking at him. So she noticed, and mentally kicked herself. "What about ‘Solitude’, and your anecdote?" she asked, noticing with a painful pang in her heart that the gleam in Adrien's eyes returned as soon as she asked the question.

"Well, as you know, my mother was the main actress in that movie." Marinette nodded. "There was a song that my mother really loved the melody of. Exactly like your dad, she changed the words of the song and used it as a lullaby to put me to sleep. Let me see if I can find the tune in my collection." He skimmed through the folders of his tablet and after searching a little while, he erupted in a victorious "aha!" Then, he proceeded to take out his ear plugs and unceremoniously popped one of them into her ear, putting the other one into his, and pressed 'play'.

When Marinette started listening to the song, she initially attempted to relax. The music was very soft and the melody from the violin was so pretty. But then, the singer's voice came into play and Marinette felt all blood draining from her face. Her hands started feeling like ice, her breath caught.

CRAP!

She recognised that tune. She attempted a smile, but based on the frown on Adrien's face, she must have only managed a nervous cringe. "You don't like it?"

She sucked her breath in. "Oh no, it's beautiful. It really is! H-how d-did your m-mother change the w-words of it?" she asked, faking enthusiasm while in reality she was dying inside. She couldn't believe it… she simply couldn't believe it!

Adrien's eyes got the softest gleam in them, a gleam she had never, ever seen. A gleam that made her fall in love with him twice as much. Her heart swell for the boy as he smiled and said, "Well, it goes like this, 'Little baby in a crib, all alone without his mommy…'" Adrien kept singing quietly, but Marinette wasn't listening anymore. As she heard his voice singing the first few words of the melody, the words didn't matter any longer. The mask didn't matter any longer. She knew that song, she knew that voice. The memory of a white version of him with piercing blue eyes singing it atop Montparnasse Tower still haunted her nightmares.

"—you think? Marinette? Are you okay?" She felt a hand passing in front of her eyes and gasped so loudly that Alya turned around and gave her a wink. Marinette paled even further.

"Uh… yes. Yes, I'm okay Ch-Adrien." Bugger! She had nearly called him Chaton! She shook her head, trying to gain some clarity and finally took a good look at Adrien, his confusion showing clearly in the frown on his face.

Oh my God.

How could she have missed it? It was him! It was REALLY him! Alya had been right when she had tried to put a cat mask on his face.

"The song was so beautiful! Thanks for singing it for me." She gave him a genuine smile. She hadn't really heard it, but anything that had such a strong connection with his mother and would give such a gorgeous gleam to his eyes was beautiful, regardless.

He beamed at her. "I'm glad. I'm not very good at singing, my mother was much better than m—" he said, but she shushed him by putting a finger over his mouth. The boldness of her act surprised her and she noticed that he had widened his eyes too.

"Shh, don't talk nonsense. You don't need to be an Opera singer, Adrien. You sang it with this." She moved her hand from his lips and put it on his chest, close to his heart. God, she had touched his chest. Just that thought was making adrenaline rush through her body. And on top of that, she could feel his heart beating madly underneath her hand for a second. Where had that boldness come from? Only because she now knew he was Chat Noir, her goofy partner, the silly dork who was always ready to crack a joke, especially at the most inappropriate times? "Your heart is all that matters, and that’s what makes it beautiful."

The softness in his gaze made her blush to the roots of her hair. She smiled wryly.

"Thank you, Marinette. It's a song that I like singing, especially when I'm alone. I also changed the words of it myself once, for the girl I love, but I'm not singing that version." He again put his hand to the nape of his neck, blushed deep red, closed his eyes and laughed nervously.

Marinette knew exactly what version he was talking about and was dying to ask him to sing it. But she knew he couldn't, because it would have jeopardised his identity. So she chose to ignore his comment. "We will have to work with your mother's version, then." She gave him a little smirk and the confusion she saw in his eyes was priceless.

'Oh, Chaton,' Marinette thought. 'There's no way you're getting away with this. No way.'

A part of her wanted to strangle him for having given his secret away like that, but another part of her knew perfectly well that if she had been any other person, that song would have meant nothing. It wasn't his fault; he simply didn't know he had sung the same song to the same girl twice in 24 hours.

Then, an even smaller part of her acknowledged what Adrien had just said — that he had changed the wording of that song for 'the girl he loved', and it suddenly all clicked.

So that was it. It was Ladybug all this time. Ladybug was the girl who didn't like his jokes, not Kagami.

She had spent a fair amount of time feeling jealous of… herself, while rejecting Chat Noir… for himself. The irony of that was unmissable!

                                              oOoOoOoOoOoOo

The next few days were pure agony for Marinette. She tried. She really tried to take Adrien to a place where they could talk and be completely honest. Tell him that she knew his identity. And of course, because she had tried so hard to do it, it had been basically impossible.

The first time that she tried, she had asked him to finish their project in the library with her just after school. Adrien had made quite a few phone calls to change his schedule, and had had a small argument with Nathalie to make her understand that the grade for that paper was going to influence his overall course grade. But as they had sat and she was gathering the courage to talk, the akuma alert rang and Adrien just fled, using the excuse that during akuma alerts his father wanted him safe.

That was his usual excuse. Gosh, how could have she fallen for it up to now?

The second time, she tried to find some private time between the end of his fencing training and his Chinese lesson, but Kagami had been so rough that day that he ended up with a small injury to his back and had to go home early.

The third time, Ladybug tried to talk to him at the end of an akuma attack, but it just didn't work out: they had only one minute left before detransforming and Chat Noir 'had to s-cat'.

The fourth time she tried during patrol. But, suddenly, the whole town seemed to need their help. They were pulled away from each other left and right until it became too late and Chat Noir just… had to go again.

The fifth time she set up a meeting to discuss the matter at hand. She organised it late at night, to make sure that there wouldn't be any snoopers and that Adrien had plenty of time in his schedule to allow a proper discussion to take place. But, of course, as soon as she started talking, the akuma alert went off, and after a long and tiring battle, it was time to go home, as they had school in the morning.

So the sixth time, she cornered him behind a chimney, grabbed his shoulders with her hands, slammed his back against the wall, and looked him straight in the eye.

"M'lady, if you wanted to make out you could have said so," said Chat Noir a bit out of breath, a nervous smile curling his lips. She looked at the position they were in and mentally screamed because now that he had pointed it out, she couldn't unsee it and her inner shy self took control and tied her tongue, not allowing her to say more.

So the following time she wrote it down. She prepared a very heartfelt letter where she didn't reveal his identity (you never know, someone may get their hands on it and discover his identity) but explained to him what had happened and how she had found out. But when she gave him the paper to read, he scratched his head and looked at her funny. "Th-that's a really sweet drawing of Chat Noir, M'lady, it's very nice of you, I'll treasure it, thank you."

Ladybug snatched the paper back from his hand, to realise that it was the drawing of Chat Noir that Manon had drawn that afternoon, when she had babysat her.

Shoot. That meant that Manon had… her letter! She felt all blood drain from her face, so much so that Chat Noir asked her if she had seen a ghost.

"No, I'm fine. I'll be right back, don't move!" she said and fled. But it took her a very long time to reach Nadja's house, realise to her horror that Nadja had found the letter (because Manon had wanted to show mommy her beautiful drawing) and manage to somehow explain to Nadja that she had the habit of writing… fanfictions (hey! She had to say something…) about Ladybug and Chat Noir and she had accidentally put a chapter of her latest story in Manon's school bag instead of her drawing, which she promptly returned, obtaining her letter back in exchange. By the time she transformed again to head back to their meeting point, she had a voice message from Chat Noir telling her that he'd had to go. He had also added that he wouldn't have been able to transform unless it was an akuma alert in the following few days because of something going on in his civilian life. She knew perfect well what it was—the summer line of the Agreste brand was being introduced and he had back to back photoshoots which included shooting at evening times.

She couldn't leave it that long. It was so frustrating it wasn't even funny. She had to talk to him, she had to clarify things. Why was the world against her? The problem was that they were too noticeable as superheroes, and as Marinette and Adrien, his schedule was just too full, and hers wasn't empty, either.

"What can I do, Tikki?" she mused that evening, sitting at her desk. "I can't keep it a secret too much longer or he's going to get upset that I found out and didn't tell him. But it just seems to be an impossible task!"

Tikki flew in front of her nose. "I personally don't know how to help you, Marinette. But Sass had an idea last night, would you like to know what it is?"

"Of course!" She looked at the small snake kwami. "Tell me, Sass. What's your idea?"

"Well…" started the kwami, his expression almost emotionless, but his voice much more suave. "I wassss talking to Mullo the other day; he really enjoyed it when you were Multimousssse. And even if the young lad made me work for monthssss almost without a resssst, I like him. Hissss heart issss in the right place. What if you recccccycle a couple of lessssss known ssssuperheroes, sssso that you're lesssss noticeable and you have more time to talk during a patrol?"

Marinette blinked. And blinked again. "Do you mean recycling Multimouse and Aspik?"

Sass nodded.

"I don't know if I like this," said Marinette, touching her chin dubiously with her fingers. "Haven't I been warned so many times that it's not a good idea to use the Miraculouses for selfish reasons?"

Tikki sighed. "Yes, you're right Marinette. But if you can't manage to talk to Chat Noir in any other way, you have no choice. It's your duty as the Guardian to inform him that his identity has been compromised."

Marinette seemed to be thinking carefully about it. "So you're telling me that I wouldn't be using the Miraculouses for selfish reasons?"

"Maybe a little ssselfish," replied Sass. "But you would be also doing your duty asss a Guardian. Which issn't sssselfish, issss it?"

"Don't know if I'm totally convinced, but it does start to look like that’s my only option." Marinette sighed. "I hate the idea of having to lie to him, though. I'll keep trying a little longer, maybe?"

                                                oOoOoOoOoOo

And that's how Ladybug ended up knocking at Adrien Agreste's window, later that night. Adrien looked at her with surprise and ran to the window to let her in.

"Ladybug! To what do I owe the honour—" he started to say.

She smiled. "Adrien, I need to talk to you. Do you think it's safe for us to talk here?"

He looked warily at his watch and scratched his head. "There shouldn't be a problem right now. It's nearly dinner time, though, so it needs to be quick." He pointed at his sofa and asked, "Do you want to sit down?"

"It's very kind of you, thank you, but it’s probably better if I stay by the window, just in case," she said, eyeing the door with concern. He nodded and smiled softly.

"So, what can I do for you?" His eyes sparkled with joy and Ladybug felt like melting on the spot. Why was it so hard for her to talk to him? He was her minou, after all. Her goofy, carefree and silly partner. Her best friend. Her crush. Scratch that, damn it! Her best friend! Keep that thought.

She could do this!

No, she couldn't...

"Well, you see, the thing is…" She blushed and started fiddling with her fingers. Her gaze darted everywhere except to his face, and she felt her cheeks getting very warm. Unbidden, her eyes drifted up to meet his, and the intensity she saw there rendered her speechless.

Shoot. That wasn't the right time to feel flustered!

She sighed and took a big massive breath, but as she finally gained the courage to start talking, she heard a knock at the door, and her heart started pounding in her ears. Adrien gestured for her to go outside, which she did gladly, hoping to be able to come back soon. But Adrien left the room following Nathalie and Ladybug eventually had to leave altogether.

The following evening she was at his window again, about an hour later than the night before.

"Is now a better time?" she inquired.

"I had dinner, but unfortunately my house is not very safe or private, Ladybug, not until everyone else has gone to bed. And it would feel… improper to invite you to my room that late at night!" Both blushed to the roots of their hair and Ladybug had to agree with him. Yes, it would have been totally improper.

"Can I 'kidnap' you then? I can take you somewhere a bit more private and bring you back when we're done." When she heard herself saying that, she blushed even more deep red. "On second thought, scratch that too. It came out really wrong!"

Adrien laughed softly with his eyes closed and brought a hand to the nape of his neck. She knew him too well to not know that he only did that when he was terribly embarrassed. "You can kidnap me, if you want, I don't mind. But if somebody comes looking for me and they don't find me, I'm in trouble."

He had just finished saying that, when someone indeed knocked at his door, even this time. Ladybug just zipped her yoyo and fled.

Hence, Marinette gave up. Sass' idea didn't sound that bad at the end of the day. It was her duty as a Guardian to inform Adrien that she now knew his identity and if having a meeting as Aspik and Multimouse was the only way to do it, well, that's how it would be done. Even if it meant lying to him.

So the following night, she tapped at his window again. "Adrien, I've come here to ask you a favour. We better be quick, before someone knocks on your door tonight too!"

"I'm all ears, Ladybug!" he said, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of pride and mischief.

"Well," she said and looked up, "You see, something has come up in my civilian life and I have some… superhero things I need to do." She eyed him as she said so and noticed clearly how he gasped at her words. Had she done it wrong? Maybe she should have thought of a better excuse? She hated lying to him. "I'm going to be away for a few days and I need someone to support Chat Noir in my absence."

"Oh?" hummed Adrien, his hand scratching his chin. He was probably wondering why she hadn't spoken to Chat Noir about it yet.

"I tried to tell Chat Noir in the last few days, but I was always interrupted. And he told me that this week he has quite a lot on his plate, so I don't really want to leave him alone. That's why I thought I could reach out to you. You were great when you used the Miraculous of the Snake. I know it didn't work out then, but you tried really hard and this time there's no Desperada. Second Chance is a great tool to use on patrol, if you'd ever need me. You would just need to call me and I would be back using the Horse Miraculous in a dash."

Adrien looked up. Then he looked down. Then he blushed and scratched the nape of his neck with his right hand. "I would love to help you, Ladybug, but I have a crazy schedule this week and can't guarantee I would be able to patrol the city."

Ladybug pouted and sighed. Nope. She wasn't going to let it happen. "I am aware that you're busy, Adrien, and I'm sorry that I have to ask you to do this in the first place. But you're one of the very few people I feel I can trust, after Chat Noir." She saw his proud smile as she said that and felt her insides melting. She shook her head. She wasn't going to get distracted again. Not today. "I-I k-know for certain th-that you would be a fantastic Miraculous holder. And I need someone whose identity hasn't been exposed to Hawkmoth. You're the perfect choice and it would be only for a few days. If any akuma attacks, you can call me with your Snake communicator on the lyre." She looked at him with her best impression of puppy eyes. She saw Adrien scratching his nape a little harder and then sigh and slope his shoulders.

"Okay, I can give it a go if you want me to."

Ladybug beamed at him and picked up the Snake Miraculous from inside her yoyo. "Adrien Agreste. This is the Miraculous of the Snake, which gives the power of Intuition. You will use it for the greater good. Once your mission will be accomplished, you will return the Miraculous to me. Can I trust you?"

"Yes, Ladybug," he said softly, a gleam of delight in his green eyes. She showed him her hand flat open, palm up, holding the Ouroboros bracelet on it. Adrien picked it up a little reluctantly and as he put it on his wrist, Sass appeared in a flash of light.

"Niccce to ssssee you again, my lad."

"Hi Sass." Adrien giggled when the kwami twirled around him with a little smirk.

Maybe it isn’t such a good idea, Ladybug thought, and was nearly going to change her mind and take the Miraculous back. But she couldn't say or do anything more, because someone knocked at the door. AGAIN. She gave him a quick wave and zipped her way out of the window. As she landed on a near rooftop, she saw Nathalie coming into the room and talking to him. She breathed a sigh of relief. She had done it at last!

She hid behind a chimney, took out from her yoyo the Miraculous of the Mouse and donned it. Then, she whispered "Spots off." Tikki and Mullo appeared in a flash of light.

"Is it necessary to use the Miraculous of the Mouse, Tikki?" asked Marinette, still not fully convinced.

"You can certainly try to talk to him as Ladybug, Marinette. But it may cause the same kind of problems as when you were trying to talk to Chat Noir. Besides, you just told him that you're going away!"

"That's true." Marinette sighed. "But maybe I can talk to him tonight?"

"Are you sure that talking tonight would be a good idea?" asked Tikki. She flew a bit higher than the chimney and looked into Adrien's room. "He seems to be having quite a long discussion with Nathalie."

Marinette sighed. "I will wait for a while here, in case he decides to head out for a quick stroll, so that maybe I can talk to him today. Otherwise, I'll look for him tomorrow, as Multimouse."

And so Marinette waited for quite some time. She saw Adrien pace his room and talk to Sass. And to Plagg. Marinette facepalmed in frustration: now that she knew, and was actually paying attention, it was so easy to see that Adrien was Chat Noir. And it was quite jarring to realise how easy it would have been to notice, just passing by his window one day, and spotting Plagg.

Now that she looked at the way the kwami of Destruction moved around the room, she realised that he wasn't as discreet as Tikki. No, Plagg was definitely the very opposite of discreet. Even the whole crew of kwamis she was hiding in her room were more discreet than the black embodiment of Destruction. And all those security cameras… a shiver ran down Marinette's spine. Thank God kwamis weren't detected by technology! She kept watching Adrien for a while, until she saw that he was getting ready to go to bed, and she hastily zipped her yoyo to the nearest chimney and disappeared in the darkness.

For a couple of days, Adrien didn't transform. He also looked very tired. Every evening when she started snooping at his room from the same far away chimney, she could see him coming back home later and later, crash on the bed, Plagg trying to lift his head by his hair but failing miserably, and after a while, he would drag himself to his desk and spend hours doing what Marinette supposed was his homework (which she too should have been doing and felt really guilty about letting it slide).

Maybe it had been a bad idea. Yes, it definitely had been a bad idea. Maybe Adrien was afraid of transforming into Aspik again? Marinette couldn't blame him after the traumatic experience he had had the first time. Plus, there was that nagging prickle that came from using the two Miraculouses for a selfish reason, which she wasn't still very happy or convinced about. No, it had been another bad idea. She better become Ladybug again and knock at his window once more and get the Miraculous back.

But as she thought that, Marinette stopped in her tracks. Adrien was pacing angrily in his room. Nathalie was also in the room with him, and Gabriel Agreste came immediately after. They seemed to be having quite a heated argument, and Marinette felt bad about snooping. True, she was too far for eavesdropping or making out anything of what was going on, but the situation seemed to leave Adrien extremely shaken and she knew he wouldn't have been impressed had he known that she had seen that.

When Gabriel and Nathalie finally left the room, she saw Adrien crash onto his bed and lay on it face down for a long time. Probably crying all his tears out. The scene left Marinette extremely surprised.

Yes, Adrien had said an innumerable amount of times that the situation at home wasn't the best. He had said that his father was controlling, that he didn't allow him to do anything a normal teenager would do. But Marinette had never seen Adrien losing it so badly. He had always been so calm and controlled, even in his sadness or in his anger.

What she saw in his room instead was a boy red in the face, who screamed, who stomped his feet, who hit the wall with his fist (and then held it for a long time with the other hand, probably trying to soothe the pain). She saw Plagg and Sass trying to console him, Plagg lowering his ears flat and retreating inside his cheese cabinet. What was going on? She got seriously worried that he might be akumatised and kept a watch, scanning the sky for any sign of akumas, but no akuma came.

How weird.

Maybe it was the time to knock at his window and get Sass back? Seeing her may cheer him up, and if she managed to finally talk to him, and be honest with him, that may be enough to make his day become better, no matter what was the reason for his argument with his father.

But suddenly, she saw a flash of turquoise light and Adrien transformed into Aspik and jumped out of his window with ease. Shoot. She had missed her chance, and now it was too late! Marinette transformed into Multimouse and started following him around — although keeping up with his pace was a problem because he was very fast, much faster than he'd ever been during patrol.

Probably he needed to vent, and he vented by running on the rooftops. Tikki would maybe even call this a selfish use of his power, but Marinette couldn't blame him. After all, she'd done the same when she'd nearly had a breakdown after her breakup with Luka. And she knew he loved running on the rooftops. It gave him a sense of freedom, and now more than ever, Marinette understood why. She finally had the whole picture and could see right through his mask. And what she saw surprised her. She had always thought that, despite having a controlling father, Adrien's life was exciting and beautiful. But what she had spied on in the last couple of days, and especially the argument with Gabriel he'd just had, and his reaction, gave her a completely different picture.

Eventually, Adrien landed on the usual rooftop where Chat Noir always waited for her to start patrol. He sat in the exact place Chat Noir used to sit, starting to swing his feet and legs exactly the way Chat usually did. Marinette landed just behind him and she expected him to turn around and notice her. But no, he didn't. She moved near him and sat down next to him like she usually did. He still didn't acknowledge her but kept staring into the nothing in front of him. She could still see the tears, and how red his eyes were, even with the modified sclera of the Snake Miraculous.

"Hello?" she tried to say. He didn't show any sign of having heard her. So she became more brave and passed a hand in front of his eyes. He got startled and seemed to wake up from a dream. He turned around hastily, searching his surroundings like a cornered prey. When he saw her, his eyes grew wide.

"Ma-Multimouse?" he muttered, and then his eyes widened, he blushed profusely and bit his lip, having probably realised his mistake—as Aspik, he wasn't supposed to know Multimouse's name.

Marinette smiled and chose to ignore it: she hadn't done this to humiliate him, only to talk to him. And she already knew the truth. No need to dig the blade deeper.

"Hi!" she said and waved. "Aspik, I suppose? Ladybug told me I would find you at some point. Did she tell you about me?"

Adrien blushed, looked down and rubbed the nape of his neck with his hand. "Uh, yes, she did. Nice to meet you!" She saw him relaxing, probably relieved that he had found a way to mask his little slip. "Ladybug told me amazing things about you!" he added, sending blood rushing to her face.

"D-did she?" She knew it was a lie, but it was so nice to self-indulge for once.

Adrien nodded, his eyes closed, a soft smile curling his lips. "Aha," he said. "You're amazing. I was a bit afraid of going solo on patrol, so she told me about how fantastic you were against Kwamibuster and it made me feel so much better. Wow. Wearing and unifying all those Miraculouses must have been an achievement and a half! I only ever unified two and was exhausted at the end of the battle."

He thought there was no harm in saying it. After all, this was Multimouse, a.k.a. Marinette. She had worked alongside them only against Kwamibuster and had never met Aspik personally. She had no way to verify his words or to doubt them. And besides, she wouldn't have been able to know that it had been Chat Noir and not Aspik to unify Sass and Plagg. The only one who knew that detail was Ladybug.

Marinette's gaze softened. She looked into Adrien's eyes and all she could see was true admiration. Yes, he was lying because he had to protect his identity, but the feeling he was expressing about her? That was indeed truthful, and real. She felt blood rushing to her cheeks and had to lower her gaze. "Thank you." She crouched a little on herself to recover from her embarrassment. Then she looked up and smiled warmly. "You're not so bad, yourself."

Adrien lowered his gaze. "Uh, you must be mistaking me for the other holder of the Snake. I-I only held this Miraculous once, and the mission was such a disaster that I ended up nearly afraid of accepting the Snake ever again." He pulled his legs up and hugged them at the knees, sighing loudly. "I'm a total failure."

Marinette put a hand on his shoulder. He gasped and looked at her as she said softly, "Don't say that, Aspik. Ladybug told me that you were really brave. You failed, that's true, but you kept trying, stubbornly, tenaciously, trying your hardest to keep her safe."

His eyes had again tears in them as he objected, "And yet, I failed. The other holder was much better than me. The only good thing I did was giving the Miraculous up." He sighed and his voice cracked. "After having tried to save M—uh, Ladybug 25,913 times!" He hugged his legs tighter and crouched over himself, as if trying to disappear and drown in his misery.

But then, Marinette did something that he would never have expected her to do. She moved closer and wrapped him into a hug. He couldn't avoid opening his eyes wide as his head shot up at the gesture, allowing Marinette to hug him tighter. Wow. Um, Marinette was being very friendly with someone she was supposed to never have met, but Adrien shrugged off the thought as soon as it came to his mind. His shock only lasted for a second before his legs went back to hanging off the roof, and his arms wrapped around the girl as he hugged her back.

He didn't know how long they sat there like that. All he knew was that he didn't want the hug to end. He needed it. It was an actual physical need, especially after the massive row he'd had with his father earlier. Especially after he had been told that he needed to completely redo the three-day long, exhausting photoshoot he had just finished, because his father wasn't happy with the lighting of the pictures. That he wouldn't have had not even one day of rest, and he would have needed to skip two days of school to catch up with his father's requests.

But he didn't want to think of his father right now. He didn't want to think of the three days of pure torture he had ahead of himself. All he wanted to concentrate on was her wonderful scent. Her scent that intoxicated his nostrils. She smelled of baked goods and wildflower, with a hint of jasmine. A perfume so sweet he wished it would stay forever under his nose.

She was warm. And soft.

Eventually, however, they had to break the hug, and when his gaze met the bluebell eyes behind the mouse mask, his heart sped up. They were so full of empathy that he wanted to just squeal and hug her again.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. Sometimes the real hero is the one who realises his mistake and admits defeat. It must have taken a lot of courage to give the Miraculous back, to accept that someone else was more suited for it. You've been so brave, Aspik." She cupped a hand on his cheek as she said that and stroked the skin under his eye with her gloved thumb.

Adrien blushed to the base of his mask. "Thank you!" He sniffled, wiped his eyes, and gave Marinette a genuine smile, one of those smiles that lit up his whole face.

Marinette blushed. "You're good. I m-mean, you're okay. Uh, it's okay." This made Adrien's smile grow wider. Yes, that was still Marinette underneath that mask. And no matter what he was wearing, somehow she still managed to word-vomit in front of him, even if she didn't know that it was him. Some things would never change.

He looked at the view in front of him. The afternoon light had given in slowly to dusk as he had been venting his frustration running on the rooftops, and now the Iron Lady was already lit up and towered proudly in front of them, as the lights of the city slowly popped on in the blue and indigo canopy of the sky.

Marinette observed him for a long time as his thoughts got lost in the beauty of the view, not daring to say anything, to not bring him back to reality. He seemed to be in a much better place. She had nearly decided to stand up and leave him to his réverie, when she found herself stroking something soft and… purring?

She looked down at her lap and saw a little black cat. She gave a quick look around: there were a couple of skylights on the roof and they were both open, so maybe the cat had come out of one of them. She smiled softly and started petting the small creature.

"Oh, bonsoir petit chat noir, how are you doing tonight, mon minou?"

She hadn't even realised what she had said, until she heard Adrien's—uh, well, Chat Noir's voice at her side.

His voice was still a bit groggy, but she heard it loud and clear. "I'm as pawsome as I can be. I always am when I'm with you, M'lad—" He had playfully leaned on his back to give her a flirty look, a gesture that was so typical of her black clad partner that she could almost see his ears and blond mane popping out of the snake's mask. That's when he froze, gasping so loudly it echoed in the emptiness of their rooftop.

Her gaze shot to him and she paled. His mouth gaped open, his eyes as big as saucers, his face as white as a sheet when he realised that she was holding a black cat, and that's whom she had been talking to. He was so deep into his thoughts that he had gone into auto mode. And somehow his auto mode had mistaken Marinette's voice for his Lady's.

"Shoot. Sorry, Marinette, I-I can explain. Uh, I mean, Multimouse." He put both hands at the sides of his head and roared in frustration. "UGGGHHHHH I'm such an idiot!"

Last thing he expected was hearing Marinette's crystalline laughter echo in the darkness. He sheepishly looked at her, his heart beating in his ears. She let go of the cat, who was starting to wiggle and demanding his freedom, and wiped the corner of her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what to say." He looked down, his hands resting nervously on his thighs. "I will have to talk to Ladybug and explain to her what happened. I'm so screwed, she knows the identity of Aspik!" His fingers pressed in the flesh of his thighs as he said that.

Marinette put again a hand on his shoulder, trying to take him out of his self-induced panic mode. "Hey, hey, Chaton? Chaton please look at me. Listen!" This was all her fault. She had to clear the misunderstanding. She really had to. She held her breath, put a hand under his chin and lifted his head. When their gazes met, though, all her resolution faltered. There it was, the moment she had been waiting for. She HAD to tell him. She had to explain everything. For once, there was no akuma attack, nobody was trying to take pictures of them, everything was perfect. So… why couldn't she say a single word? It was as if her tongue had completely tied in her mouth, her heart had started to beat madly in her ears and her breathing had also suddenly stopped.

She was so not ready.

But she had to do it. It wasn't fair on him.

BUT… she was SO not ready.

She blushed profusely and looked at him in that cringe expression she always seemed to reserve for his civilian self. "I… I already knew that you were Chat Noir," she finally blurted out. His eyes became even bigger somehow.

"How? How did you know?"

She sighed. There you go. It was the time to let go of all the secrets. "Be-because a couple of d-days ago, in school, you sang me that song," she said, not even knowing how it was possible to talk with her heart in her mouth. "A-and you had sung it to me already just the night before, mon minou."

It took him a moment. He looked down, a big massive frown furrowing his brows. He played carelessly with the Miraculous he wore on his right ring finger for a very long time, too long for Marinette to bear. She couldn't breathe until the moment that he gasped in recognition and his gaze locked onto hers.

"So I wasn't wrong when I called you M'lady? You're Ladybug?" He grabbed her hands and held them tighter when she nodded.

Marinette couldn't believe how quickly the look of pure delight and joy brightened his face. As soon as she nodded, his panic disappeared in an instant. She had never, ever seen him this happy. EVER. He was so happy that it seemed to be bursting out of him.

"Can… can I hug you?" he asked and gave her a shy look. She barely managed to nod and he had already wrapped her tight.

"I'm so sorry, Adrien. I should have told you after I found out. I did try to… but between your schedule and the akumas and people keeping us busy at patrol, it's been almost impossible. I tried so many times, but we were always interrupted. It had come to the point that I was desperate to talk to you. I didn't want to keep you out of the loop with this one, you deserved to know. I'm the Guardian after all, so I had a duty to inform you that you had accidentally revealed your identity. And then Sass had this idea, that we could have a much better opportunity to talk as Aspik and Multimouse." She broke the hug and looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry I lied to you to make sure you took Sass; I really thought it would be the only way to get some privacy." Her voice was cracking a little, but he put a finger on her mouth and shushed her.

"Shhhh, don't worry, M'lady. I'm the happiest cat—uh, snake—alive." He chuckled. "I finally know who my Lady is… and she's none other than the most beautiful and amazing girl I know." He cupped a hand on her cheek. "No wonder I fell for you twice."

Now it was Marinette's turn to open her eyes wide and gasp. "What?" she said in a choked whisper.

He blushed deep red, but his gaze didn't lose hers. "For a long time now I had realised that you weren't only a friend, Marinette. I actually doubt that you ever were. It's just," he lowered his gaze, "it's just that I thought that by loving you, I was betraying Ladybug and… I felt guilty, so I justified it in my head as you being only a friend. I had to keep you in my mind as only a friend because otherwise the guilt would eat at me. And I really tried to do it… but I failed miserably."

"Oh," was all she managed to say. She kept looking down because she couldn't lift her gaze, she was too afraid.

"Although I must say that I do feel a little hurt that you lied to me," he admitted. And that's when Marinette found the courage to look at him in the eye again.

"I'm so sorry… is there anything I can do that would make it up for you?" She didn't know where she had found the courage to ask. This left her in a very vulnerable position, but she knew that Adrien would never take advantage of it.

He gave her a look full of mischief.

Bloody hell, would Adrien really take advantage of it? Cheeky cat… uh, er, snake!

"You could exchange a lie with a… truth?" He winked at her, leaving her confused.

"What have you got in mind?" She raised an eyebrow.

He smiled. "Since I know your identity now, you could maybe tell me who the other boy is? So I can put my heart at peace and get some closure?" As he said that, his smile faded into a frown and he slouched his shoulders.

"Oh, um, wow…" Marinette hid her face behind her fingers. She DEFINITELY wasn't ready for THAT! "Can I have the spare question?" She laughed nervously and tensed like a violin's cord.

Adrien pouted. "Why, M'lady? What's the point in keeping hidden any longer? I know who you are now! Why keep it such a secret? Is he a guy I know?"

Marinette looked up. Then she looked down. Then she started picking at her fingers, and attempting to chew her nails for how uncomfortable she felt. Not that it worked through the gloves of her suit, but she did try! Why was it so easy for him to say it but for her, even after all he had just said, it was the most difficult thing ever?

She eventually dared to look at him and his gaze was so soft that she felt like melting. She gulped and her throat clenched. "Adrien Agreste," she muttered so quietly that she was almost certain he wouldn't have heard, had he not been transformed.

But she wasn't that lucky (or maybe she was?) because he gave her a confused look and asked, "Yeah?"

She sighed and cringed, but muttered even softer, "It was, and it is, Adrien Agreste."

He gasped, sucking all his breath in. "ME?"

It felt almost exhilarating. As soon as he said that, it was as if a massive weight had suddenly fallen off her shoulders. And seeing his reaction, his surprise, the adorable blush that was dusting his cheeks…

"Y-you," she whispered and smiled nervously again, tensing her shoulders. "Although I must admit that recently it was getting more and more difficult to resist Chat Noir." She saw the happy smile that popped on his lips as she said so and cupped a hand again on his cheek. It was now or never. "Silly Minou. Can I kiss you?"

His smile widened, as he wrapped her into a hug. "I thought you would never ask!" he said as he pulled back and, without a second thought, pressed his lips to hers.

Fin

Notes:

(1) "The little breads kneaded with love are much better when they're fresh off the oven…". This is from the French version of Bakerix. I know that in English Marinette and her dad don't say words while humming this tune in the episode, but in French they do, and I needed to have actual words, so I went for the French version!

----------------------------------

Author's Note:

Hi everyone!

Lately my friend Khan has been a bit down, so I decided to write a story for him with his favourite part of the square, SnekMouse. It has been really fun to write, I hope you will like it and drop me a note to tell me what you think.

If you read this and you’re not part of our wonderful Discord server already, but you enjoy reading, writing and talking about Miraculous, please join our Discord server, Miraculous Fanworks (for people on FFN, discord dot gg slash mlfanworks). See you there soon.

[lambourngb]

Nailing that Dynamic- Recs - Day 1

Day 1 for Creator’s Week, and I gotta say, this is my favorite fan event, mainly because it was the first one I participated last year. This little rec set is devoted to dynamics, divided into friendship, found family, and finally romantic (and yes, that’s Malex with me.)

We’ve had two seasons of this show, and while I can’t really relate to aliens or even the immigrant story, I do relate strongly to the stories behind friendship. I can say my appetite for fic with a good friendship dynamic will always be there.

Will You Be My Friend- Circle Yes or No (recs)

Finding You by @myrmidryad  (122,000) - If by chance the canon from high school bums you out, this is the story to read. Gin writing malex is always a ‘no-brainer I’m gonna read it story’ for me, but what really set this epic apart was how beautifully Gin writes the friendship dynamics between Michael & Liz, and Michael & Max. It’s a canon-divergent story with no-murder of Rosa or the shed scene, where in order to avoid enlistment, Alex disappears from Roswell and joins the Max & Liz road trip with Michael in tow. They just need to fill that gap between high school and the opening of the dorms at UNM so they can start a life together. And fill it they do with this road trip. There were moments where I sobbed with how badly Michael needed this in canon and didn’t get it. It also made me like Max, so, yeah. Great writing and characterizations here.

Hit the Road by @bestillmyslashyheart - (7,100) - One of the brightest spots for me in season two was Rosa Ortecho, and one of the most frustrating parts of season two was the fact we didn’t get any interaction between her and Alex. *screams* At least I had a few crumbs of Rosa & Maria (not nearly enough!) but still. Where there’s a glaring gap in canon, thank god there’s fanfic. Marlo treats us to a delightful story written post season 1, but had some surprisingly psychic lines about Malex, number one how they don’t think they are good for one another. I really enjoyed what this story says about leaving-  and honestly, the town of Roswell has so much pain tied to these characters, they should all take long road trips away from it.

a few drinks and some conversation by @christchex / @michaels-blackhat (5,600 ) - this one is set post-season 2, with all the complications of Michael deciding now wasn’t the right time for him and Alex, while also working on giving Maria the right space after their breakup.  I think it’s pretty clear that Michael needs a friend he’s not related to and someone he hasn’t slept with - to provide him so low-stakes genuine company outside of the alien bullshit and love triangle dynamics. Christi does this beautifully through the eyes of an OC and the number of times I’ve read this story is like 10, and also, it’s inspired my current story about Michael going on dates.

and headin’ out singing our song by @stars-and-sunshine (4,100) post season 2, Alex and Michael head off on a road trip (okay, this is a trope I apparently like since I’ve recced three stories now, hahaha) after Alex’s car breaks down. There’s a careful space in this story, of two men building a friendship again. The roadtrip details are beautiful, but what stayed with me is a scene in the museum. That summer of 2008 had some ghosts to address.

If I Follow You Home, Will You Keep Me? found-family dynamics

When You’re Gone by @bestillmyslashyheart (8,200) - Before I tell you why I love this story, I want everyone to follow the next link and read this story about email and messages and grief in the digital age [trigger for cancer death] chat history by Rebecca  Armendariz. (She also wrote a follow up called Timelines published by the Hairpin that talks about the memory function on facebook.) So back to the story, this is Rosa, opening her email 10 years after her death and reading the messages people sent her, thinking they were speaking into the void. Liz, Maria, Alex, Mimi and Arturo, all of them sending her notes, sometimes time passes without an email, then an event triggers that memory of Rosa not being there- and yeah, I found this whole thing to be so moving.

Never Ever Getting Rid of Me by @spaceskam - (4,400) this probably could have gone in the friendship side, but I feel like when you work in a high stakes place like a hospital, friends is a term that ends up being too light, and with the level of competition and stress it grows a bond like family... anyway, this is an AU where Michael and Kyle end up at the same hospital as competing interns but some elements of canon are still there.

still fixing all the cracks by @emma-arthur -  (3,400) this is a pre-canon story, set when Alex is 14. He’s still a soft child, being tortured by his dad, and soaking up the attention from Liz, Rosa and Arturo when he breaks a glass and spirals. Heavy discussion of child abuse and homophobic abuse, but a really good exploration of the canon-neglected Liz & Alex friendship, plus with that paternal Arturo Ortecho in the mix...

Ophiuchus by @planetsam - (11,600) the other bright side of season 2 was the reveal of Walt Sanders as being not only Michael’s boss, but someone who knew his mother, knew what he was, and silently looked out for him...now of course I wish he had been more overt in doing this, but fanfic once again has fixed this canon-oversight. This is an incredible look through Walt’s eyes as he gets in over his head adopting an alien child, especially one who already had issues from previous foster placements. I could read a million words in this verse.

The Michael Sanders AU by @prouvaireafterdark (17,000 ) And speaking of great AUs where Michael is raised by Walt, I would be really amiss in not mentioning this one. It’s got hot high school Malex moments, emotional/hurt comfort for both Michael’s past foster placements but also the shit Alex is living with at home. I have to say “Honey if You Stay” is my favorite, just because of how badly I wanted to hug teen Alex...

and finally, no found family rec list could be complete without mentioning the epic series To Raise a Child (117,000 in progress) by @haloud and @maeglinthebold - season 2 put some hits on my headspace and emotional reserves, not to mention 2020 nonsense, so I’m dreadfully behind in commenting on this story. It’s just a huge emotional bandaid for me right now- it takes the idea of “what if the adults in Roswell actually looked out for their children (and other peoples children) and protected them from shit” and what would that change. Michael was found at 7 and then runs away to Roswell at 10, so yeah, humans have already done their best to convince him the world sucks and only finding his siblings matters... Jim Valenti steps in, knowing what he is, and finds him a place in Roswell with Arturo Ortecho. Anyway, everyone gets a turn- Jim, Mimi, the kids, etc in the story, it’s well rounded and fleshed out. Obviously being a malex person my favorite parts are the kid-friendship/this-is-just-a-crush moments in second story, where if you hadn’t lost your heart to Michael Ortecho by then, well, you’re a goner after that story. 

I Could Build Your Heart A Home (malex recs)

time will lie down and be still by @islndgurl777 (29,600) the Practical Magic AU - which I loved but I have never seen the movie it’s based on lol... anyway, this story almost belonged up with my found family dynamic recs, because the story opens with Isobel and Michael being 7 and 8 years old alien siblings and left with Mimi Deluca to raise with her daughter Maria, because with their father recently dead, their mother would soon follow as a species level soulmate bond. Michael vows never to fall in love. Then there’s a beautiful friendship between Maria, Liz, Isobel and Michael as they grow up together that I just wanted to roll around in forever... However this is a Malex rec, so once Alex enters the story in high school and things go down similarly with Jesse, Michael is heartbroken, his soulmate (he thinks) is gone, vanished into the Air Force, and he spends the next 10 years helping Maria, going to school with Liz, and keeping in touch with Isobel. Until 2018 when Isobel finds out her perfect man was like them, an alien, and bad, and they are forced to cover up his murder. Then Alex comes to town. But the soulmate storyline is the winner here and I just re-read it again.

here everyone knows (you’re the way to my heart) by @adamsparirsh (19,700) So this story tackles a dynamic that think will be the death-knell to the Alex/Forrest relationship- the weight of the alien secret and Alex’s responsibility gland and what that looks like to someone who wants to be in a relationship with him. The exclusion. But outside of that- there’s this part of Alex that isn’t willing to let anyone in that isn’t already there, and that’s Michael. I’m fucking weak for stories where these two assholes can’t connect with anyone but each other, and this one hits it. There’s also so many lovely friendship dynamics between everyone showing up for Alex- like Rosa, Isobel, Max, Maria. Obviously this is a Malex-is-endgame story, even though it starts Alex/Forrest.

it’s a long road back to you by @magsthemagical  (17,000) This was an interesting, now AU take on what if Maria/Michael dated at the same time as Alex/Forrest, and honestly, I thought basted on the season two spoilers that was where we were heading. I was gobsmacked by 2x13. Anyway, here’s a story that discusses the tension that would happen if there had been simultaneous dating going on…the parts where Michael sees Alex being open with someone other than him were very raw and true to how I would think he would feel. For 10 years he wanted that and didn’t get it, and so of course the problem was probably him?? Anyway, I enjoyed this a lot, and again felt robbed that we are heading into a new triangle for season 3. 

untouched by @prouvaireafterdark (5,200) - okay, you know when you have an alien soulmate idea in your head and you want it to appear on the page, and then it does and it’s everything you wanted? That’s what happened to me when ‘Untouched’ appeared. Obviously it’s AU, but my reptile brain just loves the idea that Michael and Alex can’t get off with anyone else, and then that frustration builds into a sexy explosion... there’s also some communcation happening with these clowns. But seriously for 5,000 words, A LOT HAPPENS here and I loved every word.

Would you come home by @caitlesshea (1000) How great would have it been if season 2 had ended with Michael and Alex found a baby in a stasis pod instead of Beardy Jones? Like seriously, this short little fic healed so many of my wounds from season 2 that I couldn’t help but include it here. I would take 50,000 more words in this sadly AU take. 

Hoarding you by @foramomentonly (1200) okay, so the rain smell, like 2x04 was low key my favorite episode of RNM ever, especially with Alex throwing that flirty line “It’s smells like rain, that’s what you smell like under the grease and bourbon’ and this author takes that line, and fucking murders me with the idea that Alex can’t move on because of that smell. And Michael is now his, and finds out about it. This is my head canon, okay? No one can talk me out of it.

If you like any of these recs, please leave a comment on the story- a ‘this was awesome’ is enough to propell an author into the stratosphere with happiness, so don’t worry about coming up with a unique, never before shared insight- sometimes a keyboard smash and emogi makes all the difference!

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

The Thing™️

Hi, y’all! This is how I return my love to all of you who like/comment/reblog/follow and give me soSOso much love. Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy reading this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it, considering it required me to intently study The Thing™️ to maintain inspiration.

Summary/Warning: Rami knows what The Thing™️ does to you, but you don’t know that he knows . . . until now. Pretty much PWP, but I think it’s also loving and fluffy. But smutty. So, so smutty. Under 18s, begone, please.

GIF Credit: @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r​

Shifting in your chair, you crossed your legs as you pushed your plate away, full from the pleasant meal. The restaurant was crowded, a dimly lit, opulent place where the dark wood of the tables matched the wood on the walls and the ceiling, giving it an intimate feel despite the din of so many voices. The laughter of your good friends sounded around the table as they enjoyed their after-dinner drinks; you took in their smiling faces which were intermittently crossing between shadow and soft light from the low lamps that lined the middle of the table. You felt happy, secure, and as you moved your eyes to the striking man sitting across from you, you thought about how much of that happiness was thanks to him.  

Your eyes lingered on Rami’s face as his attention turned to you, his smile still broad as he held your gaze, but slowly, that smile slipped as his tongue swiped over his bottom lip, his cheeks subtly sinking in as he pressed his lips together before they returned to their full, pursed glory. His bottom lip glistened when he caught the light of the lamp as he leaned forward to answer a friend’s question two seats down.

And now you were done for, capable of doing nothing more than praying for the check to come so you could go home and pull that bottom lip into your mouth, sucking on it until Rami groaned—

“Y/N? Do you remember the name of that bookshop on West 69th near Columbus Ave?” the friend on your left asked.

His attention returned at the mention of your name, Rami looked at you expectantly.

“I—it was called, uh, Shop Around the Corner after the store in the movie,” you said, composing yourself.

Your eyes flicked to Rami and—for fuck’s sake!

He did it again.

The movement of his lips was cut short this time as a bout of laughter from the other end of the table caught his attention and he turned away from your heated gaze, seemingly noticing nothing unusual about your stuttered response.  

Your check did come soon, and as Rami helped you into your coat, he whispered in your ear that the car was waiting. The two of you doled out another round of goodbyes to your friends before Rami quickly ushered you out of the side entrance.

He chattered about how nice of an evening it was for the entirety of the short drive, leaving you needing only to agree and nod in response. Rami didn’t comment once on your subdued engagement, clearly oblivious to your desire to spend the evening worshipping one another’s bodies in an attempt to satisfy the desperate ache he was entirely at fault for causing.

Rami gave no indication that he was in the mood for sex as he hung both of your coats up in the hall closet of your recently purchased loft in the city, nor when he walked back to his bedroom closet, unbuttoning his black blazer and sliding it off his shoulders.

Your lips turned down in a slight frown as you stepped out of your heels and picked them up to walk them back to your own closet.

“Did you call Jas back about Mom’s birthday?” Rami called across the room.

“I have not,” you answered, placing your jewelry in the bowl on top of the dresser in the middle of your closet.

You let your short, shimmery dress fall to the floor before you stepped out of it and picked it up again, checking for any stains before you placed it back on its hanger.

“Want anything before bed?” Rami asked from the open door of your closet, his hands hidden in the pockets of his black lounge pants, his torso covered by the white undershirt he had worn for the evening beneath his white dress shirt.

“Mmm . . . yeah,” you said as you moved to the center of your closet to rummage through the drawer for a sleepshirt. “I could go for a night-cap.”

Rami remained in the door frame, now leaning against it as he watched you change. You reached back and unhooked your bra, your breasts bouncing free as you sighed with relief. You glanced up and smirked as Rami’s eyes were clearly focused on your chest, watching until you slipped your dark blue sleepshirt over your head.

He looked up and smiled sweetly as if he hadn’t been doing anything other than casually chatting.

Without speaking, he turned and walked out to the kitchen while you changed out of your fancy undies and put on a comfortable pair of cotton ones. As you snapped the bands around your bum into place, you began to forget about how worked up Rami had inadvertently made you after dinner, nearly forgetting it entirely as you settled onto your large, living room sofa.

You were scrolling through your phone when a glass of red wine appeared in your peripheral vision. You flicked the apps shut and hit the sleep button, muttering a quiet thanks as you reached for the glass.

You took a sip as Rami settled into the chair just across from you, taking a swallow of his own wine before setting the glass on the table beside him. When you looked up, he was watching you, and when he knew your eyes were locked on his, he did it.

The Thing.

Your eyes narrowed and you shifted on the couch, stretching out your legs and placing your feet on the floor.

“Rami,” you said, your voice low.

“Yes?” he asked with a lift of his brow, a perfectly neutral expression on his face.

You said nothing, continuing to look at him, wondering, for the first time if he knew exactly what that lip bite did to you.

As your silence stretched, Rami reached for his glass and took a long drink. You watched him swallow and your lips parted, your mouth working as you very slightly bit down on your bottom lip as you thought about just how aware Rami was of the effect of that thing he did on you.

Rami shifted, spreading his legs a little farther apart, watching your eyes flick to his lap before crawling back up to meet his.

“Was there something you wanted to ask me?”

“You know, don’t you? You’ve known all along what that—that thing you do does to me.”

Rami was a brilliant actor, but without the protection of a character to hide behind, he was a horrible liar. You never worried about him cheating on you, not because you knew he was irrevocably in love with you, and not because you knew he’d never hurt you, but simply because he’d never be able to hide it from you. He had yet to pull off a special Christmas gift or a birthday surprise without giving it away days, sometimes weeks in advance.

It was an endearing quality, his inability to lie a running joke, and one of the many reasons you loved him.

Rami’s lips quirked up at the corners, his eyes filling with a sparkle of mischief, but he didn’t speak, which was another sign of knowing he got caught. If he opened his mouth, only the truth would come out.

Rami took another drink, hoping to distract your glower, but you weren’t about to back down. You had to hear him say it.

“Rami. Do you know what that does to me?”

This time he laughed, a soft chuckle as he shifted his eyes over your body, unwilling to meet your gaze, an adorable awkwardness settling over him as he moved his knees in and his fingers drummed on the arm of the chair in no discernable pattern.

“I didn’t think you’d ever guess I figured it out—I have a lot of idiosyncrasies,” he said, his eyes finally sliding up to yours.

“So many. But that one . . . that one has a very specific effect on me, of which you’ve been reaping quite the benefit for a long time now.”

“It’s all a part of the game, though isn’t it? Part of what keeps it exciting?”

You picked up your glass and took a long drink, watching Rami over the rim as he continued to fidget.

Standing, you placed your wine back on the side-table before crossing the few steps to Rami’s chair. He closed his knees, silently inviting you to slide onto his lap.

Once you settled onto his thighs, you rested your hands on his shoulders close to his neck, your fingers ghosting over the soft material of his shirt.

“Why do you feel the need to still seduce me? You could just give me a smack on the ass and say, ‘let’s bone, babe’ and I’d be down.”

Rami giggled, a sweet, low sound in the back of his throat. His hands moved to wrap around your wrists, resting over them as he looked up at you, his eyes a greyish blue in the soft light of your home.

“Where’s the creativity in that?”

You shook your head, a crooked smile of happiness lighting up your features.

Until he did it again, very slowly, and very provocatively.  

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open in feigned shock.

“You are such a little slut!”

He laughed, quickly wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you close, hugging you tight against him so his face pressed into your chest. You lowered your head to rest your cheek against his shiny-soft curls that still smelled faintly of the pomade he used that morning to style them.

Rami turned his head and angled his face up, kissing the base of your throat.

You hummed in appreciation, and he released his hold on you, just enough so he could reach more of your neck. You pulled your hair to the side to encourage him to continue his trajectory, his tongue now licking a path to the base of your ear.

Rami nipped at this sensitive spot before he pulled the skin into his mouth, sucking gently and causing a shivery wave of arousal to shoot through your body.  

His hands had already snaked under your sleep shirt, and you felt his fingertips gently slide up your back from hip to neck until he hooked his hands over your shoulders and pushed you down to grind into his lap.

You both moaned.

Your eyes opened lazily, and you let them wander over his face, taking in his pink-tinged cheeks and his shiny lips, thinking that no one on earth could compete with Rami’s beauty when he was like this.

Running a hand through his hair, you twined your fingers within his strands and grasped them gently, pulling his head back enough for you to kiss him properly.

He tasted a little sweet from the wine, and you wasted no time in deepening the kiss, losing yourself to the sensation of his tongue sliding into your mouth and the feeling of his lips as they mimicked the movement of your own.

You tugged a little harder on his hair, pulling a tiny gasp from Rami’s throat so you could trace your tongue over his upper lip, then over that damned lower lip, but before you could capture it, Rami squeezed your ass.

“Bed.”

You huffed, frustrated at the interruption until Rami elaborated.

“Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Before you knew it, he was pushing you back onto the bed, and pulling his shirt off. He shuffled out of his lounge pants as you pulled your sleep shirt over your head and chucked it onto the floor. Rami’s fingers hooked your underwear and slid them quickly off your body.

He placed hasty, sloppy kisses across your chest and your stomach, making it perfectly clear he was interested only in burying his face between your thighs. He nipped lightly at the skin on your stomach before he spread your legs and licked a long, flat stripe over your folds.  

You shuddered with pleasure, knowing you were shamefully wet for him already.

Despite his initial hurry to get you naked, he was taking his time now, tasting every bit of you by using slow, teasing licks. He had pulled each of your lips into his mouth before he laved at your center, pushing his tongue inside of you as deeply as he could.

“Rami,” you breathed, your hand reaching for his curls as he chuckled, knowing what you wanted.

Rami’s lips were soon attached to your clit, lightly sucking. He was pacing himself, determined to draw an incredible orgasm out of you as he patiently worked with his mouth. He kept his fingers on your thighs, steadying them as they tried to twitch shut from the stimulation that was bordering on too much and definitely not enough.

He sucked a little harder before releasing your clit and switching to using the tip of his tongue to stimulate you. The breathy, involuntary little noises he made as he worked you toward a climax built to pleased grunts of satisfaction as if he lived for being surrounded by the taste of you.

You could feel your cheeks heating up, flushing as your orgasm formed; you were completely at his mercy until you gave him the final direction he needed to push you over the edge.

“Your mouth, Rami, your mouth,” you whispered as he switched back to sucking on your clit, this time with more gusto.

You sighed and moaned, your breath catching in your throat as he continued and you arched your back as your eyes rolled up and shut.

“Yes, Rami, yes. Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you muttered, your mind barely able to form cohesive strings of words as the heat moved through your body, creeping down your chest and into your abdominal muscles, which were now trembling as your orgasm became imminent.

You felt the pressure of Rami’s fingers on your thighs as he stabilized them, humming around your clit as his own breathing increased from the effort he was putting in to get you off with only his mouth.

And the thought of him—of his body, his face, and that fucking THING he did with his mouth—was enough to send the heat that had been building in your core straight to the bundle of nerves under Rami’s lips.

Your orgasm was strong, coming in waves, your body quivering as the intense pleasure rolled over you again and again as Rami continued the movements of his lips and his tongue, not letting up, humming around you as you moaned his name, muddling it with a chorus of yesses. When your thighs relaxed, Rami loosened his hold but still twirled his tongue around your clit until you moved out of his reach, panting and pressing your thighs shut.

Slowly, you came back to yourself and looked down to see Rami on his haunches, proud as a peacock for bringing you such unrestrained pleasure, his hand moving over and around his mouth to swipe at the excess evidence of your orgasm.

And of course he did the thing, pressing his lips together for a long moment after his tongue had licked off the last remnants of your arousal.

“Come here,” you growled, sitting up to grab him as you spread your legs and he settled between them, sliding his aching cock into you in a smooth, practiced motion.

Both of you groaned at the contact, clutching onto each other as Rami set a slow pace, letting you kiss him, delighting in the taste of yourself on his lips as you were finally able to do what you thought about at dinner, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, sliding your tongue over the skin before releasing it with a soft pop.

“Y/N,” Rami moaned. “You feel so good.”

“So good,” you echoed, pushing your hips up to meet his.

You dragged your nails down his back, loving the way the muscles flexed as he moved, but Rami was far too excited to keep the slow pace. You knew he wanted to fuck when he pulled back and settled in a kneeling position. He grabbed your hips and pulled you toward him, angling himself back into your body, thrusting shallowly, lazily for all of a few seconds before he looked at you and thrust into you so hard your breasts bounced at the contact.

And he didn’t stop.

Rami’s thumbs were going to leave tiny bruises on your hipbones as he held you in place while he fucked you; you grabbed your breasts to keep them from bouncing around with the force of his thrusts, knowing he loved this—loved watching you touching yourself as you felt your body responding to the force of his cock.

“Is this what you wanted earlier?” Rami panted. “When you gave me that look across the table? Wanted me to fuck you like this?”

“Yes,” you panted back. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Looked so good tonight—always look so good,” Rami paused as he slowed his thrusts and pulled back, almost all the way out of you.

“You—”

Rami slammed into you and then slowly pulled back out again, leaving just the tip of his dick inside your slick center.

“Drive—”

“Oh, god,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back as he slammed into you again.

“Me—”

You were an incoherent mess of moans and words as he did it again, forgoing trying to anchor your breasts now and stretching up to clutch at the edge of the mattress.

“Crazy,” he finished with one final slam as you felt him come inside of you, his cock emptying, spending itself in a way that always drove you crazy.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered, your chest heaving as Rami bent to swipe a lick over each of your nipples, pulling one into his mouth and sucking hard, causing you to swat at him as he giggled and released the over-sensitive flesh as he flopped onto his back, his own chest sweaty, rising and falling quickly from his exertion.

You could feel him stretch out beside you, his leg flush against yours as he reached up to stretch, his hands lightly resting around two slats in the headboard.

“You drive me pretty crazy, too,” you said as you looked over at him, taking in his gorgeous profile, his skin so brown and smooth in the dim lighting that filtered up from the living room.

“I know. And I know just how to do it, too,” he said with a smirk before he turned his head to face you. “Now that you know my signature move, it’s only fair you tell me yours.”

“Who says I have one?”

“Everyone has one.”

“And you haven���t figured out what mine is?”

“Well, existing works really well,” Rami flirted, his voice sexy and low in this utterly relaxed state. “Every time I see you, think about you, hear your voice, smell your perfume, I want to be near you, I just . . . want you.”

“Mmmm. That’s sweet.”

“But we both know that’s not it.”

“We do,” you confirmed with a grin. “Guess I’ll just be keeping my secret a little longer than you kept yours.”

“What if I tease it out of you,” Rami said, as he rolled over, his thigh sliding between your legs as he rested half on top of you. His hand slid between your bodies and he ran his fingers through his handy-work before he lightly circled over your still-sensitive clit.

“You can certainly try,” you said with a tiny gasp as he applied more pressure.

“And try, and try, and try,” Rami grinned as he bent to kiss you.

[unfolded73]

Husbands: Two Years In (5/5) - schitt’s creek ff

Here it is, the final chapter!  There's nothing I can say that can get across how touched I've been by the comments on this fic. The number of people who have shared things about their own struggles with mental health -- I'm not worthy of it. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

While I'm including this fic as part of the "Labels" series, the preceding fics are not required reading. Previous fics in this series: Boyfriends; “I Love You”, Partners, Fiancés

Warning: This fic deals with depression as one of its major topics.

Rated Explicit, this chapter 4718 words. (ao3)

Thanks to @high-seas-swan for cheerleading and B13_MaybeThisTime for many valuable comments (and also cheerleading).

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5: Winter

“So how was your week?” Jessica asked.

Patrick always felt like he should plan before therapy what he was going to talk about, but he never remembered to do that.

“It was a little crazy. The holidays at the store always are, although it’s very lucrative. The money we make in December will carry us through at least half of the upcoming year,” he said, pinching the webbing on one hand between his thumb and forefinger of the other.

“And did you feel more equipped to handle that? The busy store, and all your responsibilities around that? Especially with Christmas a few days away?”

Patrick shrugged, feeling obstinate. “I don’t know.”

Jessica let a silence settle, waiting for him to talk. Patrick hated this part; it made him feel like he was failing at therapy when he didn’t know how to fill that silence. What the right answer was. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the sofa cushions, calling her bluff.

Finally, she relented and spoke, and Patrick felt like he’d won a round of whatever game they were playing. “You’ve never said much in here about your sexual orientation other than to talk about your husband and to say that things with your family are good. Was it always that way?”

Patrick tried not to roll his eyes. He knew this would be coming eventually. He’d been avoiding the subject of Rachel or his coming out process because he knew it would be something Jessica would fixate on. “I’m not depressed because of being gay, or… or anything to do with that. I love being gay.”

She smiled genuinely. “I’m glad. But humor me.”

“My parents always accepted me,” he said quickly, but that felt like a lie even though it was technically true.

“How old were you when you came out?” Jessica asked.

Patrick let out a frustrated sigh, seeing no way to avoid the truth now. “I was… I was in denial about being gay for a long time.” Might as well get it all out, he thought. “When I was twenty-nine I broke off an engagement to my high school sweetheart — who was a woman — and moved away from my hometown. Pretty soon after that, I realized I was gay.”

“That must’ve been hard,” Jessica said.

“Yeah, but once I got through it and… and got together with David, I’d never been happier.”

He couldn’t help but see the smile she gave him in response to that as patronizing. “New love can flood the body with so many good chemicals that it swamps out all of the bad ones.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying I wasn’t happy?”

“No, I’m saying that the way you’ve framed things in some of our past sessions — that you were depressed before you moved here, and then you weren’t, and now for some reason you’re depressed again… that may not be the right way to frame it. Do you think perhaps it puts a lot of pressure on David as the source of your happiness?”

“I don’t put pressure on David,” Patrick protested.

“Is it possible that you put pressure on yourself, then? When it comes to your relationship with David and its importance in your life?” Jessica asked.

Patrick huffed and didn’t answer. Now she was contradicting herself from one sentence to the next.

“When did you come out to your family?” she asked.

“That isn’t why I’m depressed either,” he said.

Jessica sighed like he was finally challenging her constant state of serene acceptance. “Untangling the web of depression isn’t straightforward. It might be helpful to pull on different threads and see what they’re connected to. Okay?”

Patrick supposed that made sense. “Okay.” Then after another pause, he admitted, “It took me a while to come out to my parents.”

“Why is that?”

He stared at Jessica’s bookshelf for several seconds, his eyes running over the titles without reading them. “I worried that my parents wouldn’t be okay with it. They didn’t talk about gay people when I was a kid, really. Or when they did, they made it sound like a sad thing that we needed to tolerate because it wasn’t a choice. You know, that brand of ‘tolerance’ that is just that and nothing more.”

She shot him a sympathetic look. “It’s understandable why you were hesitant to come out to them.”

“But they were great about it. It wasn’t long after coming out to them that I asked David to marry me, and they were great. They love him, and all my worries were unfounded,” he said, trying to figure out why tears were threatening to spill over.

Jessica took a few seconds to rearrange herself, setting her ever-present portfolio aside and leaning forward on with her elbows on her knees. “I understand that, looked at a certain way, you’ve had a purely positive experience with coming into your sexuality. You had David, who from what you’ve said before is a very loving person. And based on what you’ve told me, you live in an accepting community. And then your parents stepped up and were there for you when you asked them to be. That’s all wonderful, and not to be discounted. But it doesn’t change the fact that for all of your formative years, when maybe on some subconscious level you did know that you were gay, or at least different in some fundamental way, you didn’t feel like your parents or the community you were living in would accept you. That kind of experience leaves a mark, even though everything turned out fine.”

She smirked, leaning backwards again. “Or not. Perhaps your serotonin is low due to simple physiology and I’m completely off the mark.”

Patrick felt strangely reassured by this honesty, this admission that she knew that she didn’t know everything. “So I need medication, then?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Medication might help. Or cognitive behavior therapy could help you. Or both together.”

His reassurance quickly dissolved, leaving Patrick wanting to scream at his therapist, fix me, goddammit! Instead he said, “That all sounds very nebulous.”

She grinned. “From what I know about you so far, I bet that’s driving you crazy, and I’m sorry about that. Can you bear with me for a little while, though? Work through the process?”

He sighed. “I’ll try.”

~*~

Patrick drove past the empty storefront on Elmdale’s main street as he was leaving his therapy appointment. He’d noticed every week that the ‘for lease’ sign was still in the window. After the second time he saw it, he’d texted Ray to ask if that was the space he’d mentioned to David. David hadn’t said anything about the second Rose Apothecary location in a while, but it didn’t take a genius to guess that he was still thinking about it, and probably wondering when Patrick would be ready to seriously entertain the idea again.

On impulse, he pulled into one of the parking spaces that lined the street and got out of the car, walking over to the empty storefront. The windows were covered in paper, but he could see enough through the gaps to make out that it had a scuffed up hardwood floor. It would need to be refinished, he thought, but it looked like it was in pretty good shape.

The smell of coffee attracted Patrick’s attention, and he looked over to see that there was a coffee shop next door. Grind House, the sign that hung under the awning said. Curious, Patrick went over and opened the door.

The barista looked up and waved. It being around two in the afternoon on a weekday, the place was mostly empty other than two people at a table in the corner who were huddled over laptop computers. The shop was decorated tastefully for Christmas, and he thought David would approve of the warmth and coziness of the space.

“Hey, what can I get you?” the barista — Taylor, her name tag read — asked him with a smile. Tattoos snaked out from under the sleeves of her t-shirt, black ink against dark brown skin.

“A small earl grey tea?” he asked.

“Sure thing. Is that it? We’ve got a few pastries left.”

His eyes strayed over to the pastry case. “Yeah, could I get a couple of those butter tarts to go? My husband is a real connoisseur.”

Taylor grinned at him. “Smart man.”

“Hey, what do you know about the empty space next door? Do you know if there’s been any interest in it?”

“Oh man, I’m still bummed about that. It used to be a comic book shop. I was afraid to go in there for the longest time — comic stores aren’t necessarily the most welcoming places to black queer women, you know? But the old guy that ran it was super nice. I remember he made a point of telling me when Ta-Nahisi Coates started writing Captain America.”

“What happened to the store?”

She shrugged. “Amazon drove him out of business, I guess. That’ll be $9.25,” she said ringing up his tea and butter tarts. As Patrick put his debit card in the reader, she added, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh.” He scratched his cheek. “My husband and I run a store in Schitt’s Creek. Rose Apothecary?”

“Holy shit, really? A friend gave me some of your lotion for my birthday. It’s great.”

Patrick swelled with pride. “Thanks. Anyway, we’re considering opening a second location in Elmdale.”

Taylor smirked, handing him his tea and a box with the tarts. “Sorry, I can’t allow you to have a store right next door to my coffee shop. I’ll spend all my profits there.”

Laughing, Patrick accepted his purchases. “Oh, well. Guess we’ll have to look for another place, then. Although David would return the favor, I’m sure.”

“What’s your name?” Taylor asked.

“It’s Patrick Brewer,” he said, setting the tea down again to shake her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Patrick. I’m Taylor. And I hope you guys get the space.”

“I… do too,” he said, surprised to find that he meant it.

The store was bustling when he got back to Schitt’s Creek, and David and Bethany were both busy with customers. Patrick put the box of butter tarts in the back room and went to work restocking Christmas decorations. Given how many decorations they sold every holiday season, Patrick had to assume that by now every Christmas tree in Elm County was fully outfitted in David Rose’s aesthetic.

As soon as David finished with the customers he was helping, Patrick went over and put a hand on his shoulder. “I got you something for your afternoon break,” he said. “There’s a white box on the table in the back.”

David’s eyes lit up, and he hurried into the back before he could be waylaid by another harried holiday shopper.

They didn’t have a chance to exchange any more conversation until Bethany finally flipped the sign on the door to Closed and locked up. Patrick felt dead on his feet, but he had to admit that the thought of all the money in the cash register made him feel pretty good. Bethany went to work cleaning the windows while David leaned against the center table.

“Oh my god, Patrick, where did you get those butter tarts? Those are the best ones I’ve had in years.”

Patrick walked over and put his arms around his husband, pulling him into a hug. “A little coffee shop in downtown Elmdale that happens to be next to an empty store that I believe Ray mentioned to you a couple of months ago.”

David pulled out of the hug, his eyes darting back and forth as he studied Patrick’s expression. “It’s still vacant?”

Nodding, Patrick leaned up and kissed David’s cheek. “We should call Ray after Christmas and go take a look at it.”

“Are you sure?”

Patrick shrugged. “No, I’m scared as hell. Among other things, I’m afraid I’m going to miss having days like this with you, working together in our store. But I want to go look.”

David kissed his lips gently. “Okay.”

~*~

Stevie stood shivering on their back porch, bundled up in her hat and puffy parka. “It’s way too cold for this,” she said.

Patrick exhaled pot smoke in a crystalline cloud of breath and handled the joint back to her. “Our families are getting here tomorrow and I don’t want the house to smell like weed.” He giggled. “It doesn’t match David’s holiday aesthetic.”

His phone chimed, and he took it out to look at it, expecting a complaint from David. Instead the text was from his cousin. There were no words, just a picture of Justin pressed cheek to cheek with another boy.

Patrick: Who’s this?

Justin 🌈: his name is Jonah

Patrick: Very cute. And closer to your age, I hope?

Justin 🌈: 🙄 you sound like my mom he’s 18

Patrick: Good. Merry Christmas, Justin.

Justin 🌈: thanks you too

Then a text arrived from David, just as Patrick expected. She’s got even more luggage than last year.

Patrick laughed. Maybe it’s a lot of presents for you, he texted back.

David: You give my sister entirely too much credit.

Patrick: See you soon.

“Why are you suddenly so fucking popular?” Stevie groused, her teeth chattering, handing him the joint back as he put away his phone.

“Sounds like Alexis’s flight got in on time,” he said. “And my cousin Justin has a new… boyfriend, I guess?” He took another hit.

“I can’t stand this anymore; I’m going inside,” Stevie said, taking the half-smoked joint from him and carefully extinguishing it, then putting it in a crumpled sandwich bag that she produced from her coat pocket. Patrick followed her back into the house. “Is this the cousin that you rescued a while ago?”

“How many gay cousins do you think I have?” he asked, pulling his coat off.

“I mean, statistically? Given how many cousins you have? More than one.” She flopped down on the sofa and stretched out on her back. “So are you liking your therapist any better?”

Patrick dropped into the overstuffed chair across from her. “I don’t know. As I predicted, she’s starting to fixate on my sexual orientation and…” He gestured airily in a very David way. “All that.”

Stevie turned her head and regarded him balefully. “The fact that you were in denial about being gay until you were thirty? And didn’t come out to your parents until you were ready to ask David to marry you? Is that what ‘all that’ is?”

“Fuck off,” Patrick grumbled.

“I’m just saying, there’s probably some stuff to unpack there.”

“Stevie, I’m completely comfortable with being gay,” he said.

“Didn’t say you weren’t. It’s not about you being gay, but maybe it’s about how you get so wrapped up in your obligations to other people that you lose track of yourself. Or that you’re so obsessed with not disappointing the people you care about that you have a hard time being truthful about who you are or what you need.”

Patrick blinked. “Wow. Maybe you should be my therapist.”

Stevie laughed. “The problem is, I need to be high to have these deep insights.”

They settled into comfortable silence for a few minutes. Finally Patrick admitted, “I don’t like the way it makes me feel cracked open.”

“What does?” Stevie asked, her mind clearly having wandered.

“Therapy.”

“Oh. Yeah, I don’t think I could deal with that either,” Stevie said.

“It’s like… you know how if you pick up a big rock in moist soil, there’ll be all these bugs underneath it?”

“Ew,” Stevie said in a perfect imitation of David, and the two of them burst into gales of laughter for a while. When Stevie finally got control of herself, she said, “Sorry, what about the bugs?”

He wiped away tears from his cheeks. “It was a metaphor for my brain. I’ve got a lifetime of practice not moving those rocks. I don’t know if I want to know what’s underneath them.”

“Yeah, I get that.” She stretched her toes out, brushing them against the arm of the sofa. “You know you’ll be okay though, right?”

Patrick felt a swell of love for Stevie and he would have hugged her, but it would probably be weird. Also he was comfortable in his chair. Maybe he’d hug her later.

When David arrived from retrieving Alexis at the airport, Patrick put his coat back on to help with the luggage. David opened a bottle of wine and turned the lamps in the living room off, leaving only the light from the Christmas tree to illuminate the four of them as they settled in to talk.

They told Alexis about the new location in Elmdale that they were considering leasing, and she made some marketing suggestions that were good enough that David went and retrieved his journal from the bedroom so that he could make some notes.

“One thing I’ve seen businesses do to get market penetration is sponsor relevant conferences,” Alexis said. “Like, professional association meetings. Then they get their business name and logo printed on everything for the conference — tote bags, lanyards, USB sticks, all that stuff.” Her free hand that wasn’t holding her wine glass flopped around to indicate all of the stuff.

“We don’t really have general store conferences,” Patrick said, bemused.

Alexis rolled her eyes. “But it works for other events too. Summer festivals, parades, whatever.”

“Elm Valley has a pumpkin festival every year,” Stevie said.

Patrick was starting to have a germ of an idea related to what Alexis had said. He sipped his wine and filed it away to mull over later, when he was sober.

Tomorrow, Johnny and Moira and his own parents would arrive and things would take a turn for the chaotic, but for right now, Patrick could enjoy the warmth of David’s hand on his shoulder as his husband bantered happily with his sister and his best friend. Leaning into the crook of David’s arm, Patrick smiled and tried to soak up all of the love in the room, an inoculation against the darkness that might lurk around the next bend in the road.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” David murmured against his spine later in their bed. Their kisses had been drowsy and a little bit drunk as they decided that sex was happening tonight in spite of their houseguests. Alexis was in the guest bedroom and Stevie had zonked out on the living room sofa, David tucking an afghan around her shoulders before he and Patrick went to bed themselves.

“It’s not Christmas yet,” Patrick said with a chuckle, writhing, pressed against the sheets as David worked him up and up.

“I know it’s not technically Christmas, but tonight was so nice,” David murmured into Patrick’s shoulder, words alternating with kisses. “It filled me with holiday spirit.”

Patrick tried not to laugh, he really did, but it was a losing battle. He made an attempt to smother his giggles into his pillow.

“If you say something about me filling you with the holiday spirit, it’s over between us.” The things he was doing to Patrick with his fingers belied that statement.

Laughing again, Patrick pushed his hips back against David’s hand, and then his laughter turned into a moan, and then neither of them said anything coherent for a long time.

~*~

The first town council meeting of the new year came on a grey January afternoon, the threat of snow on the horizon. Everyone was subdued and low energy, even Roland, and Patrick felt drowsy, struggling a little bit to pay attention and type at the same time that they discussed several budgetary issues. A lot of the topics were the same every meeting, with tiny, incremental changes almost too small to detect. Or worse, they were recurring issues that indicated no progress had been made at all.

When they got to the bottom of the agenda, Ronnie asked if there was any new business, and Patrick almost didn’t say anything. The idea that had occurred to him during the holidays had seemed strong on a happier day. Today, he wasn’t sure he had the energy to argue for it. But then he thought about the things Ronnie had said to him about queer activism, and he thought about Taylor and her coffee shop, and he opened his mouth.

“Have we ever considered having something in Schitt’s Creek for Pride?” he asked.

Ronnie raised her eyebrows. “What, like a parade?”

“No offense, but it might be kind of a sad little parade,” Roland said.

“No, not a parade. Like, a street festival. Tents with food and other vendors and LGBT educational booths. Opportunities for people to find out about meetings in the area. Maybe a stage with speeches and musical performances. And we don’t have to limit it to only Schitt’s Creek. I looked into it a little, and even Elmdale doesn’t have anything like it. We could draw vendors and patrons from all over Elm County.”

Ronnie crossed her arms. “Sounds like a way to line your own pockets. I assume Rose Apothecary would be one of the vendors?”

Patrick met her gaze. “I’m sure the rest of council could be counted on to keep us on a level playing field with everyone else. Come on, Ronnie. Can you honestly say it wouldn’t be a good thing for the community? And a good way to bring money into the town?”

She tilted her head in acquiescence. “Put together a formal proposal and we can vote on it at the next meeting.”

“I’m going to vote ‘yes,’” Bob stage-whispered to Patrick.

“Thanks, Bob.”

After the meeting had adjourned, Patrick went over to Ronnie. “I thought later this month I’d go to that Thornbridge LGBTQIA+ meeting you told me about. See what they’re doing and make some connections. Ask if they’d be interested in helping out with our Pride festival.”

Ronnie stared at him for a second. “Your festival idea hasn’t been approved yet,” she said.

“Assuming it’s approved,” he said, unable to keep himself from grinning. “Would you like to go with me?”

“You want me to spend hours in a car with you, driving to Thornbridge. Really.”

“Come on, Ronnie. Someday you and I are going to have to bury the hatchet for good.” He put on his most guileless expression, the one that caused David to accuse him of weaponizing his eyes. “Why not in service to the queer community, of which we are both pillars?”

She almost, for a split second, looked like she was going to crack a smile. Instead she sighed. “Fine. Let me know when it is. I’ll see if I’m available.”

~*~

They celebrated signing the lease for the new store with pizza at David’s favorite spot in Elmdale. There were paper hearts colored by children in the front window, and it reminded Patrick that he only had a few days to find a suitably tacky gift for David for Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t worth it if he couldn’t get David to threaten to divorce him on this, David’s most hated of holidays.

While they waited for their pizza, Patrick reached across the red and white checkered tablecloth and took David’s hand. “Thank you,” he said.

David had been fiddling with his phone, but at the sound of Patrick’s voice, he set it face-down on the table and gave Patrick his full attention. “What for?”

“For being there for me so many times this past year. For… for putting up with me at my worst.”

A crooked smile threatened to erupt on David’s face. “Patrick, you know your worst is still pretty good, right?”

“I hope you’re not still grading me on a Sebastien Raine curve, David.”

David rolled his eyes at that. “No, I’m just saying that maybe you don’t have the most objective perspective on what being married to you is like.” His eyes softened. “I’m as happy being your husband today as I was the first day. Okay?”

Patrick swallowed around a surprising lump in his throat. “Okay.”

“You’re nervous about the new store,” David surmised.

“I am, but it’s the right decision,” Patrick said with confidence.

“I’m nervous too,” David said. “Don’t mistake my outward confidence for anything other than a thin veneer over all of my anxieties.”

That statement automatically put Patrick into reassurance mode. “The marketing ideas from Alexis are going to be helpful. The customer base in Elmdale is huge and has more disposable income compared to what we’re used to at home. I’ve run some numbers, and I think the revenue from this location may outstrip our Schitt’s Creek location in a matter of months.”

David grimaced. “Well, that somehow makes me feel irrationally protective of our first store. It doesn’t deserve to be the under-achiever.”

Squeezing David’s hand, Patrick said, “Never. I fell in love with you there, and there’s nowhere in the world more important to me than that store.”

“We can make new memories at the new store,” David said softly.

Patrick knew, realistically, that he and David probably wouldn’t be spending that much time together at the new store after they got it open. They’d have to split time between the two locations, and there would be even more work to do out on the road, expanding their vendor base to support the increased demand.

David seemed to read his thoughts. “And when we spend our days apart, it will make being at home together in the evenings that much more precious.”

“Yeah,” Patrick managed to say, his voice raw. He averted his eyes from David’s piercing gaze, staring out the window between the gaps in the paper hearts. “Can you… can you talk to me more about that?”

David smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Well, imagine a day when I’m at the store here in Elmdale, and you’re at the store back at home.”

“Are you at the one in Elmdale because of Taylor’s pastries?”

“Shhh,” David said, reaching out with a finger like he was going to put it over Patrick’s lips. “I leave the store a little early, letting one of our trusted employees close up, and I bring home some wine and cheese from the store. Maybe some of Heather’s new triple cream.” He closed his eyes like he was having an erotic fantasy about Heather Warner’s cheese.

“Wine and cheese that you pay for,” Patrick said.

“Naturally. Oh, and fresh berries. It’s summer, and there are berries in season. So I set everything up on the kitchen table, just in time for you to arrive home from the other store. And we drink wine and eat cheese and we tell each other all about our days. The sun is setting, and the light is all golden,” David said.

“I like this story,” Patrick replied. “Then what happens?”

“Eventually we move to the sofa. Maybe watch some TV or listen to some music. We put our feet up and finish our wine and you remember something funny that you saw on the internet and you tell me about it. And then when we get tired, we go to bed.”

“What happens then?” Patrick asked as their server set their pizza in front of them and David grabbed a slice.

David’s mouth twisted into a crooked smile and he waggled his eyebrows. “The rest of the story is very interesting, but you’ll have to wait to get home to hear that part.”

“Hmm, okay.” Patrick reached for his own slice of pizza.

“Hey,” David said, drawing Patrick back to looking at him. “I love you. I can’t wait to see what the next year brings for us.”

Patrick smiled. He felt bolstered, lifted up by David’s support and for once, he allowed himself to feel good about it. “Me either, David.”

[out-of-this-dimension]

Some Thoughts on Star Fox as a Series

Disclaimer: This is a post mostly focusing on the gaming aspect of Star Fox, not really the lore and characters.  I think when a lot of people in the fandom talk about the series’s future, they hone in on the story and characters but I wanted to talk more or less about the series as games, not really as a story.

I remember when the first rumors of Star Fox Grand Prix came out and I was frankly a bit bummed.  I’m very lukewarm on racing games in general, having only really enjoyed Wave Race, Mario Kart, and Diddy Kong Racing out of the few I’ve tried out.  I wanted a follow up to Zero, since I felt dissatisfied by it overall.  I felt like it was halfway done and that it failed to breathe in that bit of life into the series that was desperately needed.  A racing game for the series felt... really weird, and part of it still does, but the more I dwelled on it, the more I realized that... sure, Grand Prix wasn’t what anyone had expected but maybe it wasn’t a bad thing?

And then, funnily enough, I thought back when I was a kid and when Star Fox Adventures came out.  A lot of people were very upset.  I was not one of them because I had been immersed at a very young age to the idea that some games in certain series just play differently.  Mario was always bopping between tennis, racing, party games, 2D platforming, RPG style gameplay, and 3D adventure jams.  Donkey Kong went from throwing barrels to 2D platforming to racing and to having his own 3D adventure.  Kirby went from 2D platforming to racing and even to fighting games.  It made sense to me that Fox McCloud could do the same.  And that leads me to my main “point” of this post.

I think it’s perfectly okay for the Star Fox series to step away from the spaceship shooter genre.

Don’t get me wrong-- I know that the heart of the series we’ve seen so far has been a on-rails shooting or all-range mode shooting.  But I think sometimes we (using this loosely for certain bits of the fandom) hyper fixate on Star Fox needing to be based on vehicular combat and maybe that sort of mentality is still the result of backlash from Adventures all of those years ago.  A lot of Star Fox fans were upset because of Adventures because it didn’t stick to their expectations of what would naturally evolve after SF64.  And they were absolutely correct to be surprised and maybe a bit upset (some people took it overboard but I applaud their passion, I guess).  Star Fox Adventures was not the natural sequel to the beloved SF64.  Assault fit the bill for that, building upon on-foot fighting teased in the Versus mode of SF64 and going back to a rails/all-ranged mode series of levels rather than a more open and explorable world.

That being said, I don’t... necessarily think that Star Fox Adventures was a mistake or a bad idea.  In fact, I actually think that an adventure-style subseries would work really well for Star Fox as a franchise.  In fact, I think there’s a lot they could do with the series in terms of branching out from the typical on-rails style spaceship shooter.  Having a racing game with a story and with boss fights (like what was rumored of Grand Prix) actually sounds like the fun Diddy Kong Racing sequel everyone kinda wanted.  Sure, Adventures was put together in a very rushed fashion, but why not actually invest in adventure-style series of games for Fox McCloud?  He’s a mercenary, after all, and I doubt every mission he takes is going to be able to be done in his Arwing.  

“But Star Fox isn’t a big IP.  Why bother reinventing the series as something beyond its genre when it’s not a big IP?”

That is true.  It’s not a huge IP but it is a legacy IP, one that Miyamoto has stated he’d love to do more with.  And honestly?  I kind of wonder if branching out the genre would garner more interest in the series from potential consumers.  Not everyone is really into the spaceship shooter genre and that’s fine.  I think with some innovation, maybe branching out in the genre department a bit, and decent marketing and the Star Fox series could honestly be twice as big as it is now.  It has the potential to market to a lot of different fans-- furries, sci-fi nerds, flight sim fans, general Nintendo fans, etc.

“But Star Fox is supposed to be a spaceship shooter game!  That’s the heart of the series!”

And I get that, in the same way that stomping Goombas is Mario’s staple. Star Fox can still have those types of titles in the series.  But I’d rather see the series evolve and thrive rather than cling onto what it’s traditionally been and the fans getting a half-baked game once every half decade or so.  I think much in the way that the gaming world has changed, Star Fox as a series has dug its heels into the ground in terms of gameplay and it needs a chance to breathe and grow.  I don’t think there’s been much growth for the series from a pure gameplay standpoint since Assault and that was 3 generations ago.  I want to add that I’m talking purely based on gameplay-- I’m not commenting at all on story or on character portrayal.

Two extreme games that I think highlight what I’m trying to say are Breath of the Wild and Mario Odyssey.  Of course these are both huge IPs for Nintendo and they received a lot of care.  But if you look at the gameplay, what they did was take the basics and let them grow, adding a few new mechanics to those specific games within the series for variety’s sake.  Assault did it similarly, particularly with vehicle swapping.  But... really, after Assault, I feel like we saw a step back.  Command obviously was limited by its console.  Zero has virtually no excuse in my book being 2 console generations after Assault and seeing nothing more than finnicky controls and a return to SF64 form... and with no versus mode to boot (still salty about that, don’t mind me).

“But is it a Star Fox game if it doesn’t have flying/on rails combat in it?”

Yes.  The answer is yes.  Because Star Fox isn’t about flying space ships. There’s a billion games that will let you fly ships.  But them having flying ships does not make them the same thing as a Star Fox game.  Star Fox is about the charm-- the fun banter between teammates, a world full of goofy sci-fi tropes with very quotable dialogue, and fun, quirky animal friends.  

And just because a Star Fox game isn’t purely on rails flying combat doesn’t mean it can’t have a nod or two.

“Okay, but if you want them to just make different genre games for Star Fox, why not just have Nintendo make a new IP entirely?”

New IPs are always a gamble and we know through the development of various games that Nintendo puts a LOT of work into making new IPs.  If you haven’t looked at the development of Splatoon on Wii U, I really recommend it.  It really shows why we don’t get many new IPs from Nintendo-- they’re super picky and they super wanna make sure that the IP will land on its feet successfully.

Star Fox is, again, a legacy IP and people know the characters.  That’s actually pretty huge because then you’re not having to market an entirely new cast.  

Starlink was a huge indicator that people want to see the Star Fox characters again.  The game may have sold poorly overall but the Switch sales were remarkably high compared to the other consoles and I’m 99% sure it’s because of brand familiarity and the Star Fox team.  

“Okay, okay, so you want Star Fox to evolve.  But what do you want to see?”

Honestly?  Something good.  Anything good.  Nothing that’s limited by the idea of what a Star Fox game “should” be.  I am a big believer in not stifling creativity and that extends to the gaming world as well.  I don’t want to see another rebranded SF64.  I want to see something they make with an honest, passionate heart, even if it’s something as outlandish as a Star Fox dating sim or even a Star Fox crossover with POKEMON or KIRBY or PIKMIN or... or anything else that sounds absolutely wacko.  

I just want a good game made with love that respects the series and doesn’t try to confine it.

Anyways THANKS FOR READING MY TED TALK