#I'm only 3 months behind my goal

[topazshadowwolf]

A meeting with Error, a duel, and pink pants.

[astrxealis]

good eve hope u all r well 😇😙💗✨

[coucouatoi]

now you're in my life... | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Warnings: sexual tension, slutshaming, women being viewed as wives and baby makers only (not by Harry), fluff, Harry being a gentleman, implied age gap, smut

A/N: Bridgerton fic incoming!! I'm late to the Bridgerton party but I've finally rewatched it all... also didn't reread a 7th time so if u find any errors, sorry <3

Summary:

Dearest Gentle Readers, remember that a Bridgerton Courting season is never complete without some juicy drama. Here's some tips to stay... out of trouble:

1- Don't attempt to stand out

2- Don't even try to become the Diamond

3- Don't get caught with Londons most sought after bachelor in a compromising position

Good luck readers!

Lady Whistledown

Travel is exhausting. It always is.

Travelling with the end goal being dancing, presenting yourself, being courted and then wed is excruciating.

Your mother, bless her, is more excited than you've ever seen her. The carriage is already quite cramped with you, her and your younger brother squeezed tightly against each other. Her legs bounce constantly, her fan is flapping like she wants it to break in half and the lessons. Oh god, the lessons. A second of silence is too long. You have to be bombarded with rules and tips to make you the perfect debutante this new season.

Your brother, however, is barely spoken to. He is not going to be presented to the ton until a few more years have passed. The conversations seem to bore him. Bore him so much that he has seemingly slept through the entire trip... or at least pretended to.

Your trip to London is quite long. You have taken a boat and ridden so many carriages your behind has most likely become flatter. Today is the last day of travel thankfully. You'll be arriving at your family's English estate soon enough, your father is probably already waiting in the steps most likely impatiently tapping his foot.

He and your mother are still obsessively in love with each other. Married three weeks after courting during their first-ever year as debutants. First child, you, nine months later... after that things slowed down. It took them twelve years to have another child and now, six years later, she's gotten pregnant again. Their grand finale as they keep calling it.

You can only wish that you'll be able to find someone who makes you feel even just a smidge as happy as your parents make each other. That there's someone here, in London, who will make a worthy husband and an even more worthy father.

Your mother's squeal startles you out of your thoughts as you turn into the estate. She must have spotted your father.

The time has come, you must now be the best future bride possible for all the men in the Bridgerton ton to run after.

-

You feel absolutely ridiculous. Who allowed this to be the standard for debutantes?? A feather tucked into your neatly styled hair but not just any kind of feather it's not small or dainty, no. It's tall. Taller than most things in the room. On your tiptoes, you could reach some of the lower ceilings with it. The dress is fine, the gloves are only a little itchy and the shoes are actually quite pretty. But that damn feather...

"Are you sure I can't just accidentally set it on fire?" you grumble to your mother who is your sponsor for your official debut this season.

"That would certainly bring attention to you... I'll entertain the thought" she quips with a small smile.

"I look ridiculous with it! What's the point of looking like an ostrich? Is that what English men find desirable?" you're incredibly confused. This can't possibly be something that attracts suitors...

"The Queen demands it, my dear", she rubs your arm reassuringly, "We don't want to upset her"

You shrug in defeat. Your mother is right, no one would dare go against the queen. Especially when you are to be presented in her court.

The two women in front of you are escorted into the ballroom as their names are called. The doors close as the debutante bows to the Queen.

This is it. You're next. You're going to walk in front of the entire ton as fresh meat. Someone they don't know.

Your father owns an estate here but you've only been to London twice before this. Never enough time to make friends or make any kind of impression. Hopefully, they don't eat you alive.

Your mother fusses over the sleeves of your dress. Then she tugs your gloves up, making them pull uncomfortably at the webbing between each of your fingers. You let her fix anything that she deems askew or not perfect enough. It's the nerves making her twitchy. As the doors open in front of you she pushes the feathers you wear deeper into your up-do.

"Y/N L/N and her mother Lady L/N" Your mother locks your elbow with hers as you walk forward.

The room is littered with people, London's finest and richest gathered to see what fresh meat this courting season brings.

The other debutantes are lined next to each other facing the door, their mothers or older sisters behind them peering over shoulders.

Once your eyes lay on the queen you suck in the breath you were about to take. She sits on her throne like she was born to be on it. Her head held high but her eyes inquisitive. She eyes you up and down, more than once, it makes you stand up straighter. You want her to like you, get her and the rest of the ton curious.

Your mother lets go of you as you get closer to the Queen. The last steps you take are the most nerve-wracking ones you've ever taken. All eyes are on you; men, women, debutantes, the queen's harem, potential prospects.... Everyone.

You bow to her, deeply. Your right leg goes behind your left, you bend your knees and your head tucks down towards your chest. You stay like that, it's only polite to stay low as long as you can but when your foot starts feeling numb you stand back up.

She's in front of you. Eyes locked on your face, she examines it as a smirk forms on her face. The Queen approves of you.

"My diamond, make me proud" She taps your cheek once, twice, thrice before kissing your forehead and nodding her head as she makes her way back to her throne.

What does she mean by Diamond?

-

As soon as you enter the Bridgerton ball with your family you're swarmed. It's as if you're the newly set dessert table.

Potential suitors waving pens in your face begging for a spot on your dance card.

Is this what being the Diamond is all about?

Being chased around like you're nothing more than a cheap prize to these men? That's probably what you are to them...

You fill out two dance spots at random before managing to wiggle your way through the crowd and into the actual festivities.

The ballroom is enchanting, with flowers of every kind scattered all around the room. You feel like you've stepped into an indoor garden, everywhere you look there's at least one blooming plant. It's gorgeous. You want to stay in this room forever.

The dance floor is currently occupied by couples, waltzing around each other, the choreography running through their veins as if they were born knowing them.

It's all so hypnotizing. The dances, music, seeing the ton gossip so proudly, the men trying to woo this season's debutantes and the women batting their lashes waiting for someone to walk up. It's a game, all of it and you love being a witness. Well, a player now...

"They have a buffet!" Your little brother exclaims as he runs through the crown and straight for a table littered with a large array of foods. He's going to be distracted there for at least 2 whole dances. You have the next dance clear for now so you take the time to wander around, head held high as you take everything in. Your mother had fused incessantly over how you should act tonight and over your chosen outfit. It had to be:

- Fit for a diamond (whatever that may be)

- Have flowers, by order of the Queen

- Unique enough to attract attention

- Modest but not prudish

Complicated demands under the time restraints you had but she made it work. Calling upon her best modiste contacts and personally seeing to the design of them. You have to admit she has done quite the selection for you this evening.

Your gown is a light green, sage might it be? There's a thin layer of darker tule over the bottom half and your sleeves, giving it dimension. The area that goes around your bust and upper back is lighter and full of gemstones shaped like different flowers. It looks like the modiste managed to sew an entire bouquet into the fabric. The gloves are sage as well, going past your elbows and trimmed with the same darker tule. Your mother had a spare ribbon of the sage silky fabric saved for your hair. It's styled into the updo, weaving itself perfectly between the colours of your neatly styled hair. Smaller gemstones have also been placed precariously to make sure you shine as bright as any diamond should.

They've done an excellent job at making you look like a walking dream. Tempting, gorgeous and almost unattainable.

The song that is playing is about to end, which means you're about to have your first dance of the evening. You can't even recall with whom you had simply grabbed a random pen and wrote the colour of his jacket. Too many names had been screamed at you for you to decipher which was his. Hopefully, whoever occupies your first spot manages to find you and whisk you away to the dance floor.

As the couples either leave the dance floor or get ready for the next song, you look around somewhat panicked. Is your first slot not even going to find you? That would be slightly humiliating...

"Lady L/N" you turn swiftly toward the voice behind you. "I'm Lord Talag, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance" Lord Talag takes your hand and presses his lips to the back of it. His suit is blue with silver stitching, your very first slot. He leads you to the dance floor and you both take the first positions for the waltz. The violins start first and you're instantly moving.

Arms gracefully twirling over your head as you spin backwards. As you turn you can't focus on Lord Talag but you know he's doing the same thing. When you stop your turns and face your partner, you see that he's fallen. On his ass, on the floor, in front of everyone. The other couples around you stop abruptly to not trip over him.

"My Lord! Are you alright?" you gasp reaching out to help him stand. However, he ignores your attempts to aid him back on his feet and dusts himself off.

"Good evening, Lady L/N," he says and rushes out of the room. He resembles a kitten running to beg their owner for a treat: legs kicking quickly, bum shimming from side to side, a determined expression...

You're left standing in the middle of the dance floor as everyone looks at you with a confused expression. Your own must look quite similar to theirs. Your first dance partner for the evening has walked out on you. All because he fell on his ass. Men, am I right??

Taking a breather after the embarrassing moment Lord Talag put you through is essential. You can't possibly face the ton as they gossip about it. His chances of finding a bride now are squashed, he's the laughingstock of this courting season. Well, for now at least...

The midnight air is crisp. The cold air prickles at your skin causing goosebumps but you enjoy it, your skin had heated up under everyone's stares. There's no wind, no sound (besides the muffled voices inside) and only a slight orange hue glows around you on the balcony. There are some oranges perched around you and over your head. They aren't quite ripe yet but they do look particularly inviting.

You turn to rest your bum against the marble railing, lifting your head towards the sky. The stars are bright. Brighter than you would have imagined to see in the city. They reflect over the artificial pond under you, seemingly dancing on the ripples. It's all so peaceful.

"Don't you think it's a little cold to be out here without a coat?" the deep voice has you jumping out of your skin. You turn around abruptly to see who's sharing the balcony with you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know someone was already here" you bow politely already stepping towards the door. You're not about to have two incredibly embarrassing moments in one evening. Would the Queen be tempted to take away your 'Diamond' status?

"There's no need to leave!" He rushes towards you, his right arm extended towards the door and body facing you. You back up quickly not wanting to make any accidental contact. You're unchaperoned in a private setting with a man... Please let no one come outside!

"I'm sorry if I startled you. I just realized you were holding onto yourself quite tightly... as if trying to heat up" he adds moving away from you as he stands up straight again. He must have realized how compromising this could seem.

"Oh! No, I'm actually comfortable... I'm just overthinking" you clarify for the mysterious, albeit handsome, man. You don't want him offering his jacket or anything of the sort. That would look even worse.

"Ah, I see. These types of events always bring out the worst in people" he laughs dryly as he shakes his head. It's almost as if he's recalling a specific memory. "I'm Harry, Duke Styles if you want specifics"

DUKE??? Your nighttime patio buddy is a DUKE?? This could not look any worse. You have to leave the secluded area now! Before anyone joins you and screams indecency.

Your panic must not be very well concealed as Har- Duke Styles, gets closer to you again with his hands raised.

"I'm not going to bite you, please don't panic" his hands are waiving slowly in front of your face. He's trying to demonstrate that he means no harm but all it does is make you jump back. Your mother would berate you if she knew what was happening right now. "What's your name?" he asks in a soft tone.

"Um, I'm... I'm Lady L/N" You somehow manage to speak in a slow and stuttering manner but it worked.

"The diamond?!" Oh god. He didn't even know. "How do you have time for a breather? Isn't your dance card full?" he sounds completely shocked.

You shake your head rapidly. It's the only answer you're able to give him before the patio door bursts open as a couple attached at the lips tumbles outside. They walk straight into Lord Styles, making his knees give out and then falling straight into you. His hands grasp your waist and arm seemingly trying to get himself straight up on his feet again. He fails. He keeps falling unfortunately dragging you down with him. His left hand, the one holding your arm, quickly moves to the back of your head before it makes contact with the stone floor. The other at your waist stays there but his grip tightens, you can feel it firmly through your corset.

The couple has separated from one another and they are now looking at you both in shock. They were most likely not expecting anyone outside. They are speaking, well you think so. Their lips and arms move erratically but there's only a high-pitched ringing in your ears.

The hand on the back of your head tilts it away from them, your eyes meet Lord Styles. They are wide, worried, panicked. You're not sure why.

He's talking too but he must be whispering as the ringing is still the only thing you hear. It's getting annoying; you want to know what he's saying to you. It seems important.

Your vision blurs right before it darkens completely. You've passed out not even knowing of the commotion you've caused.

-

Tule, satin, silk, needles, charcoal drawings on the walls, books scattered on various surfaces... Where have you found yourself now? You seem to be in a study of some sort that also serves as a studio. You manage to sit up slowly, the pounding in your head spiking for a second before it settles.

"Mother?" you call out in a weak voice. How did you get here? Or better yet, who put you in here? No one answers your call so, at a snail's pace, you manage to get into a standing position. Your legs are stronger than you thought they would be, aiding you in your quest to figure out where in the Queen's name you are.

As soon as you leave the study your eyes burn because of the bright sunlight streaming in the hallway you now find yourself in. Blinking a few times makes your eyes adjust quicker making you able to tune into your other senses.

You hear mumbling, a few different voices leak out of the room right next to where you had been sleeping. You try to make out what they saying but nothing makes sense in your mind. You can't even hear them enough to confirm if you know any of the voices.

Not even considering that some may think it rude or even improper you open the door and make your way inside.

Lord Styles is the first on his feet; almost seems like a knee-jerk reaction. His posture is tight, and uncomfortable he is standing straight as a ruler as he looks at you with a terrified expression.

"My darling!" your mother rushes to you as fast as she can with her swollen feet and round stomach slowing her usual pace.

She brushes your hair out of your face before embracing you. She holds you tight but carefully as if to not break you.

"How do you feel?" she asks you once she pulls away.

"Fine, I think. My head hurts quite a bit but it's bearable" You smile at her reassuring as your gaze drifts back to the man still statuesque in the middle of the room. You don't find words to say but you do walk towards him. You don't like seeing him this uncomfortable... especially in what seems to be his estate.

"This is yours? The house?" you ask him gently. His eyes meet yours and the tension seems to bleed out a little. He's a bit more at ease seeing that you are polite and cordial with him.

"Yes, we thought it was best to bring you back here... less scandalous" He gestures to your father and he only nods back as an answer.

"Less scandalous?" you look around the room, at the three people surrounding you with different expressions on their faces. Your mother; excited, your father; thoughtful, Lord Style's; embarrassed?

"Why is your estate less scandalous, Lord Styles?" you meet his eyes, hoping to somehow be able to read his mind. Figure out why he's so closed off now. He did seem pretty willing to talk to you on the pat-

The patio. Oh my. The patio!

"Why am I here Father?" your headache spikes when you turn your head rapidly towards him. His expression tells you all

that you need to know. You're now engaged. There's no scandal because you're going to wed Duke Harry Styles.

"An outdoor wedding would be gorgeous this time of year, don't you think so Y/N?" your father smiles at you kindly. He's happy with the man you've managed to "score", even if it isn't a love match like him and your mother.

You only nod at him before looking back at Lord Styles, whom you find to be already looking in your direction. He meets your gaze and bows his head in a polite gesture, welcoming you. Welcoming you in your new home, into your new life as a Duchess.

The wedding is set to happen in 9 days. The first wedding of this year's courting season. Your mother has been on top of everything, she's practically planning the whole thing. You and Lord Styles, your fiancée, let her do it... after all this was a surprise to both of you.

Today you're choosing your wedding dress. The last dress that you'll wear as the incredibly eligible and sought-after diamond. The dress you'll become a bride and then a wife in. You'll become a duchess, Duchess Styles...

"What do you think of this one, dear?" your mother is holding a white gown with delicate baby pink embroidered flowers all over it. You nod approvingly making your way back behind the changing partition as she brings it over to you. It's only the second one you're trying on so your spirits are still high. Madame Delacroix, the modiste, was much too eager to have you wear one of her gowns on your big day. Said it was "Perfect marketing!" and she led you to her newest collection that was apparently straight from France.

You manage to slide it on with no issues and as you're about to ask the modiste for some help with the clasp in the back you hear a voice you don't recognize say your name. You stay quiet hoping to hear what they are saying.

"You haven't read Lady Whistledown yet?! This one is so juicy, she talks about Duke Styles and the Diamond"

"Please tell me you have a copy of it on you! I need to know how that happened"

Are people really this eager to know how you got engaged?

After the first girl presumably pulls out a copy of whatever they were talking about they start reading it aloud.

"But how could I forget to mention the most surprising moment of the courting season yet? London's own most wanted bachelor, Duke Harry Styles, has found a worthy bride. He does shoot for the stars, doesn't he? Or rather in the mines... as the newest Duchess soon joining the ton is Lady L/N, the Diamond.

However, the choice seems to have been made by herself and herself only. Who wouldn't throw themselves at him just to be caught in a compromising position? I certainly would! Her parents must be so proud to have such a stellar whore seductress presented this season.

The hopefully happy couple already share a house, how warm is the Duke's bed? Has Lady Y/N done what so many other noble women have wanted to do?

Congratulations to the happy couple... See you at the wedding!

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown"

Your blood runs cold, you're frozen in place after hearing what was written about you. You don't even know who these two girls are, who the writer is or where this paper comes from. Is that really what people think of you? That you whored yourself to Duke Styles to secure a wealthy and powerful man? You haven't made a single friend yet and now this is what people are saying about you, how are you meant to live amongst them now?

You quickly undress yourself of the wedding gown and get back into your dress, you somehow manage to clasp it yourself. Before running out of the boutique you hand the dress back to your mother and take a quick look at the girls that were just gossiping.

They are already looking at you with wide eyes and shocked expressions. Well, at least that's what you think their reaction is to seeing you practically trip out of the shop.

You don't hear what your mother calls out to you, too concerned with the humiliation pumping throw your veins. You need to get back to the Dukes manor as soon as you possibly can. You're grateful to have ridden here separately from your mother so you don't have to leave her stranded with no carriage and very pregnant. The ride back feels never-ending... How can you ever face the ton again?

The bath water is almost boiling, perfect to wash away the shame you felt. Your mind is all over the place. Nothing you can come up with will fix this, you're stuck labelled as some desperate whore. Does your betrothed know who this woman is? What those papers are? If anyone and everyone reads what she writes about other people? The lies she creates to make things interesting... You didn't even manage to find a gown you liked for the wedding... You might now not even be able to face the public, would the Queen allow a private wedding for her diamond? Probably not.

"Oh! I'm sorry I didn't know you were back" For the second time today your blood runs cold. The scorching hot water feels icy against your skin as you look up to meet Duke Styles's gaze.

He is also stuck where he is. His feet seemingly glued to the floor, one hand holding the door handle and the other stopped halfway done unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes leave your face and trail down your nude body under the water. No man has ever looked at these parts of you, he isn't supposed to see them until your wedding night.

He swallows when his gaze snaps back to yours, probably just registering what he was doing.

"I'll let you bathe, sorry for interrupting" he turns around quickly but before he can close the door you call out to him.

"Who's Lady Whistledown?" your voice cracks halfway, desperate to get an answer that no worker has answered. Not the chariot driver, not the gardener, not even the maids that helped prepare the bath everyone avoided your question. "Why did she write about me, my lord? About us?"

He takes a few seconds to walk back into the room but eventually comes in and shuts the door.

He sees there is a small stool in the corner of the room, the maid has used it to undo your hairdo when you got in the bath. He grabs it and places it next to the tub, close to where your face is. He sits facing you with one of his arms resting on the edge, trying to look nonchalant.

"Call me Harry, no need for formalities between us" is the first thing he says, you nod as your answer.

Before speaking again he takes in a deep breath and wipes down his face, looking for a way to explain this.

"You read it?" your voice is meek, he saw that she called you a whore. He read that you threw yourself at him to trap him.

"I did. Only because the men at the club told me to" he answers honestly. "I told them that what she wrote was wrong. That yes our marriage was unexpected but not an entrapment"

"Did they believe you?"

"Yes, after I told that I am very satisfied with my future wife. How lucky I am to have such a gorgeous lady share my house, such a smart lady in my life. They wouldn't dare question me or us" his words shock you. You didn't know if he was satisfied with you or your engagement. There hadn't been a conversation about it but you're happy to hear he doesn't resent you.

Harry seems to read your mind and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, he lets his hand fall to your shoulder after.

"She called me a whore, a seductress. I've never even let a suitor hug me... Much less seduced one" his eyes bore into you. They are enchanting and so inviting. You want him to look at you this way always like you're the only thing he could ever look at so attentively.

"That's what she does... Last season she almost destroyed Lady Eloise Bridgerton... You haven't met her yet but she didn't leave her manor for the rest of the season" his hand is rubbing from shoulder to shoulder, pinky finger grazing the very top of your breasts at each movement. You don't move or break the eye contact it feels good.

"The ton eats her words up but don't waste time thinking about what she thinks, she is a coward saying all of this nonsense anonymously" he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"So there is no Lady Whistledown in the ton? Is it an alias?" your questions stays unanswered but it is obvious that is what he was saying. No one knows who she is or rather who they are.

Harry's hand has travelled lower without you even noticing he's gone past the water and travels from your chest to your stomach. It seems casual and natural like you've done this a million times before.

Silence stretches as you take in the small amount of information about this person who spreads false claims about you and the man currently exploring your body.

He is now going up and down your legs switching legs once in a while. You don't know what he's doing or why he's doing it but it feels so intimate... so good that you don't stop him, you don't want him to.

You will bear his heirs and pleasure him when he wants you to but what he is doing now seems to actually pleasure you. His fingers graze your core and you gasp as the sensation takes you by surprise. This breaks the trance he had been in as he rips his hand away from your body and out of the water then out of the room before you can even get a single word out.

You finished your bath shortly after with your skin still tingling from where Harry had touched you. The ghost of his fingertips exploring places no one has touched not even yourself. You wanted to see how far he'd go, what he would do to you, how he would keep exploring your naked body. Seeking him out feels desperate but you have to know how far he was willing to take you. Was he just as affected by the intimacy? You knock at his chamber door softly praying that he doesn't reject you. "Come in" you hear him speak through the thick wooden door.

You quickly smooth out your sleeping gown before making your way into his chambers. This is the first time you've been in them, the amount of fabric, mannequins and art around the room surprises you. You had previously seen his work room where he designs and creates many different clothes but you had no idea he had more where he rests. You find Lord Styles lying on his large bed with one arm covering his eyes. He hasn't realized that's it you that's walked in yet so you take some time to look over his designs. You see some suits, daywear, and gowns of all kinds but then you stumble upon one that is called "My Bride". You pull it out from under some other sketches. The gown he's drawn is breathtaking, tight bodice detailed with what you think must be lace and gemstones, there's many layers of lace going downwards towards the bottom of the dress giving the impression of a flower that has not yet bloomed. He's added a simple shawl to the sketch which just adds to the elegance of the look.

"Would you make this dress for me?" your voice is loud in the otherwise quiet room. Harry startles on the bed, clearly not expecting you, sitting up quickly. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before looking at the paper you are holding.

"I can, if you want me to make it for you I will" he nods looking back up, studying your face.

"I'd like that" you smile "I'm much too ashamed to go back to the modistes anyway..." you put the drawing back down on his desk. At this point, you are only pretending to be looking around his space. Your goal is to make your way to his bed... try to get him to touch you again.

"There's no need for you to be ashamed. They should be ashamed, the ton is over-critical of newcomers" he leans back on his hands the now completely unbuttoned shirt falls off of his torso, revealing it.

"I suppose so... it's still disheartening to think that people think like that about me" you sigh walking towards him again. His eyes don't leave you he seems to be analyzing you, your actions, your body, everything.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" he tilts his head in thought, "Threaten anyone who looks at you wrongly? Find this Lady Whistledown and burn her out of existence?"

"You..." Okay, deep breaths, this is when you'll make your move, "You can touch me again... Keep doing what you were doing?" the pitch of your voice is much higher than usual as you finish your suggestion. You avoid meeting his gaze, too embarrassed to look at his reaction.

What you hear isn't an answer but the sound of him moving on his bed, towards you? God, you hope so. You still don't totally understand what his touch made you feel or why it has you craving for more. You don't even really know what "more" means.

"I wouldn't want to ruin you as some say" he guides your head towards him, forcing you to meet his eyes, so intense and inviting.

"Well, they already think you have... I just want you to make me feel good" You don't back down keep your eyes on his.

"Have you ever made yourself feel good?" Harry's voice is deeper than you've ever heard, it sends a shiver down your spine.

You shake your head as an answer, the ability to speak lost when he placed his hands on your hips. He tugs you forward, bringing you so much closer to him it makes you flush. He hums in understanding, still debating if he should do this or not... but the look on your face, the curiosity and the neediness makes his decision very easy.

He gently pulls you to lay down on his luxurious bed, the silky sheets and soft mattress feel glorious. You could stay in his bed all day long.

"Don't you resent me? I cut your first courting season quite short" he gently pecks your cheek before gliding across your lips to do the same to the other. You unconsciously follow his lips trying to have them meet yours again, you're already in a mental fog of pleasure and he's barely touched you.

"Can't answer, doll? Mh... don't worry I'll make you feel good" That's when he kisses you. Properly.

You let him take complete control as you've never kissed anyone. You don't want to make it unenjoyable for him or yourself so you follow his lead. His hands slowly bunch your nightgown up revealing more and more skin, skin that he is now seeing for the second time. He separates from your lips to look down at you, to admire your figure. Goosebumps spread all over as he delicately rubs his hands up and down your thighs spreading them apart adding him in lying down between them.

His face is inches away from your most private parts. Parts that have never been seen by anyone but your aids when getting dressed or cleaned. To aid him you didn't put any underclothing on, hoping he would accept your request. So, he's staring directly at you, making you flush from embarrassment.

"You want me to do this, gorgeous, you're sure?" your eyes meet his. His expression is unreadable, you've never had someone look at you like that. Like he wants to eat you whole.

"Please Duke Styles" you answer in a soft voice, he smirks at your answer and immediately gets to work.

What you're feeling is something completely new, foreign, unbelievably good; The curl of your toes as his mouth meets the skin you've never even explored yourself, the arch your body does and the loud gasp that slips past your lips. Who knew you could feel this way? Why did no one tell you that you could feel so unbelievably good?

Your hands grab onto the edges of the pillow you're lying on and you try to meet his gaze or maybe just to see what he's doing looks like.

Harry's eyes are already on you, your gazes meet easily, his pupils are dilated and his brows furrowed. He's so concentrated...

His tongue circles your clit sucking at it before letting his free hand join. His middle finger teases your entrance, not wanting to take your purity, he'll be somewhat of a gentleman and keep that for the wedding night.

"Ah! Harry" you moan desperately, desperate for something you don't even know, begging for him to keep going. You have an urge to shut your legs together but Harry's pushes onto your left one, keeping it pinned to the mattress.

The hand that was teasing your hole slowly goes up your nightgown, touching your skin delicately as he works his way up to grab your breast. His hand is warm on your chest, grabbing and massaging the skin he reaches.

He uses your slight distraction to prod his tongue inside of you exploring the few inches he's able to reach. Maybe exploring your inside isn't so bad... You'll be married no matter what happens...

His hand leaves your chest and makes its way back down, circling your bud. He can feel how close you are so he zeroes in. Lost in your pleasure and on his quest to make you feel good. Make you forget about the judgement the ton regards you with. He pinches your clit making your body lock up and your breath hitch but Harry doesn't stop. He keeps going until your whole body is spasming against his mattress until you're unable to make a sound with your mouth agape in pleasure.

You don't feel anything besides the tingling going from the tip of your fingers to the tip of your toes and the ends of your hair. Your heartbeat slowly stops being so erratic and your breathing calms down. As you start wondering where Harry has gone you feel a damp cloth rubbing against your intimates. You shiver at the feeling, obviously still sensitive, flinching when he gets close to your sensitive bud.

"How do you feel, my lady?" Harry's voice is soft and tender. Probably trying to preserve the warm atmosphere around both of you.

You hum positively as an answer, words lost as you meet his intense gaze.

"Cats got your tongue?" his tone is teasing. He throws the cloth away and joins you on the bed. You shake your head with a smile.

"I'm lost in thought" is the first thing you say to him, "I will be for a while after that" you sigh dreamily as you get comfortable in his sheets.

"Mh, maybe we should rush the wedding, get the Queens blessing for her diamond to wed in a rush... you won't speak a week after what I'll do to you" You just might have to march into the royal palace first thing in the morning.

[thebestsetter]

"3...2...1...go!" You said, pressing the record button and smiling

"Hello everyone! This is Bachira Meguru!" He smiled, grinning at the camera you were holding and pointing at himself

"Hi! My name's Isagi Yoichi!" He also smiled and waved a little while you adjusted the camera in the tripod

"Itoshi Rin." You rolled your eyes at his tone

"And today" Bachira made up for his friend's lack of enthusiasm "We're going to do a livestream answering questions from fans! So don't be afraid to send them! Our helper is going to read as most as possible so we can respond!" Of course, by helper, he meant you, so you just turned the camera a little (without showing your face) and waved.

"Hello everyone! I'll try my best to read them all! Just write the name of the player at the beggining of the sentence so I can know who to ask!"

In instants, lots of questions flooded the chat

"Wow! There's a lot of questions" you adjusted the camera back to the athletes.

So, here's the thing: you were a sports journalism student, which means you were usually the person the "Blue lockers" asked for help when it came to interviews and other things envolving the media. Also, you were the japanese team's official journalist, so you did lots of interviews with them and they felt more comfortable around you.

Ah, there's other thing worth mentioning: you were the one and only Isagi Yoichi's very first girlfriend.

"This one's to Bachira!" You smiled and mimicked that good old journalist way of speaking "How did it feel to carry the Barcha team on your back during the Neo egoist League?"

"Well... I did play pretty good" he smirked, chest puffing with pride "So I'm gonna say it felt great. But there were other good players, like Otoya."

"And who else besides Otoya?" Isagi teased, crossing his arms "We both know damn well you were the only ones to participate in the team's goals"

"You're the one saying it, not me"

"Next question" Rin interrupted, clearly not wanting to be there and wanting this livestream to end as soon as possible

"Since you're so eager to continue" you smirked "This one's for you, Rin. It's from 'It0shis_lover'" he rolled his eyes at the name "'Let's go on a double date: you and me plus Isagi and his cute girlfriend'" you smiled "Why, thank you for the compliment, dear!"

"No." Rin estated without any emotion

"Don't be rude, Rinrin!" Bachira smiled "Why not?"

"I don't want to watch Isagi and his girlfriend almost eating eachother with their eyes. He's such a loser it makes me sick"

"Hey!" Isagi cut him off, blushing a little "I am not a loser!"

"Sure. And you also weren't pouting when the person from the comment called your girlfriend 'cute'" Rin retorted

"I wasn't!" Isagi blushed even more

"Yes you were~!" Bachira shook his friend's shoulder while laughing

"It looks like the chat is going crazy with this brand new information!" You laughed "Guys, Isagi do acts like a loser. He got better after 3 months of dating, but he was so clueless at the beggining!"

"Hey! You're supposed to back me up here, love!" Isagi crossed his arms and pouted at you

"I can't lie, can I?" You smiled at him (which made him smile back, since he couldn't look at your smile without feeling the urge to smile too), gazing back at the chat for a while "People are asking 'why do we think he's a lovesick loser'. Who wants to answer first?" You teased

"Oh! Me first, me first!" Bachira shot his hands up high.

He put his finger in his chin in a thinking position, then suddenly perked up (if you squinted your eyes enough, you could almost see a light bulb appearing on the top of his head) "Oh! Do you guys remember that time when Reo accidentally used and broke her hair tie?"

"I do!" You laughed behind the camera "Do you guys want me to tell you the story?"

"No way you're going to expose me like that" Isagi sweatdropped

"People want to hear more about Japan's hero Isagi Yoichi, it seems" you smiled "Alright. You ask and you shall recieve!" You cleaned your throat and began "It all started when I gave him my favorite purple hair tie, telling him this exact same sentence:"

"Yoichi! I know you have an important game tomorrow, so I decided to give you a good luck gift!" You smiled, your hands behind your back so he wouldn't see your gift. Your boyfriend was just heading to his daily practice when you stopped him.

"Really? You didn't have to, babe!" He blushed a little, curious about the gift "You are my good luck charm already"

"Do you guys get what I mean?" Rin rolled his eyes "He's so corny it makes me wanna vomit"

"Don't interrupt her!" Bachira exclaimed "Continue, please"

"As I was saying..."

"...you are my good luck charm already"

"I know, but I wanted to" you giggled, grabbing one of his arms and strechting it with one of your hands while the other stayed behind your back "Close your eyes and open your hand"

"Sure..." Isagi smiled gently and did as you told him.

He then felt something circular and soft in his hand. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

Your gift was...

"A hairtie?" He asked, confused "I don't even have enough hair to use it"

"First of all: it isn't any hair tie. It's my favorite one" you pouted "And second: you don't use it in your hair. You wear it around your wrist, like a bracelet" you smiled, taking it from his hand and putting it in his wrist for him (which made him blush hard. Even the smallest brush of your skin against his made him go insane).

He analysed the hair tie with such a complex gaze that you couldn't help but feel a little self conscious about the gift.

"Y-you obviously don't have to use it, you know?" You smiled shyly

"No." Isagi said "I'll wear it. Even if it was the ugliest thing ever -which it isn't - I'd still wear it, cause it's from you. Thank you. Thank you so much for this. I'll treat it with care, I promise" he caressed your cheek "In fact, I'll even take it to practice with me today, just so I can get used to it!" He smiled, his eyes glowing

"Sure, babe" you giggled, putting your hand on top of his "And you're welcome. Now go! We don't want you to be late."

"Okay, okay. I'm going" he laughed, and then stopped when he was closing the door

"Thank you again!"

"Don't mention it"

"And then when he got to the training" Bachira said "He showed it to everyone. And when I say everyone, I do mean it. Even Ego couldn't escape it!"

"Of course I did!" Isagi shouted "It's the greatest present I've ever got. Well, at least it was, before that stupid purple haired idiot with attach and trust issues broke it."

"It's clear he still holds a grudge" Rin rolled eyes, and -wait, was that a smirk on his lips?- "Everything was going well, until Reo asked if anyone had a hair tie, since he forgot his at the dorms and couldn't play well without one. Meanwhile, Isagi went to the showers and left his 'good luck gift' in his locker, which was open. Someone probably passed by and made it fall to the floor, so Reo picked it up and used it."

"He literay stole it!" Isagi argued "He should be arrested or something!"

"Yoichi, no one's arrested for stealing a hair tie." You giggled (your cheeks were already hurting from how much you were laughing today)

"And then while that dumb son of a -"

"Yoichi!" You interrupted like a mother scolding her kid

"While the lovely Reo Mikage was playing with it" he continued "I was looking for it everywhere-"

"He was almost crying" Rin side eyed him

"No one told me that before!" You said, amused "Did you really cry, love?"

"He did. He began to sob a little-"

"Let me continue!" Isagi blushed even more "And then I saw it on Reo's hair, and..."

"I remember that part!" Bachira said "When Isagi saw the hair tie, he said:

"What. The fuck. Are you doing with that hair tie?"

"What?" Reo asked "Oh, is it yours? I didn't knkw. You don't even have enough hair to use it"

"That's none of your business. Give it back, now."

"Alright, alright! My bad! Calm down, it's just a hair tie."

"I'm not gonna ask again. Give. It. Back."

"Sure" Reo tried to take it off of his hair, but realized there were knots stopping him from completing the action "Shit, it's not coming out" Reo said "Wait a second, I'm gonna pull harder"

"Be careful. Break it and I break your fucking spine."

"Of course I'm gonna be careful! When was I not careful-"

Cleck.

Oh oh.

In Reo's hands, laid the now broken object.

"Oopsie?" Reo smiled nervously while putting the hair tie on Yoichi's hands "I'll buy you another, don't worry. An even more expensive one, even."

"Shut up. I'm gonna kill you." Isagi said, seething with rage "How the fuck do you even manage to break a hair tie? Are you dumb? That's the only plausible answer. You're so dumb that you still keep going back to your so called "best friend" who left you to rot. You're stupid. You're useless. You're just an shitty, poor excuse of a player. You should just give up on football already, motherfucker. Why don't you just jump off a cliff bla bla bla..."

"Reo still has nightmared about that day" Rin stated "Isagi humilliated him"

"He was stupid. How do you even break a hair tie?"

"And then he got home and told me sorry at least 100 times" you laughed "I just gave him another one and thought everything was solved. I still want to know what happened to the broken one though"

"Don't worry about it, babe. I love the new ones"

"Ugh. I actually hate you both" Rin said "Not to mention that this wasn't the only time Isagi did something that proves he's a loser. There are other examples. Like, when they first meet and she told him what was her favorite series, who he spent the whole night awake binge watching it just so he could have something to talk about with her"

"It was good though" Isagi retorted

"Or when the U-20 guys spoke to her" Bachira added "And he got so jealous that he swore to - how did he word it? - Ah! He swore to 'step on their head and use their pathetic habilities at football as a stepping stone for his growth'"

"They were literally eyeing her up and down!"

"He also told me one time: 'I'm gonna score a goal for you today!' And scored none" you smiled fondly at the memory

"Hey! Don't bring that up!" Isagi had smoke coming out of his ears from how embarassed he was "Whats with you guys and making fun of me today?!"

"Whatever. Even if he's a loser, I love him. So don't laugh at him guys. He may be a loser, but he's my loser" You joked. But you should know that your words always have an impact on Yoichi. And it's not subtle.

He was now was red as someone who stayed 5 hours on the sun withou sunscreen. Maybe even redder.

"...why would you say this!?"

"Someone's blushing~"

"SHUT UP!"

"This live was a fun idea" you laughed "The next one's for Isagi: 'Care to share your girl with me?'"

"...What's the user of this motherless fucker?"

Needless to say, the livestream ended up getting millions of views. People were amused and curious about yours and Yoichi's relationship, so he was flooded daily with questions about you on interviews. Tik tok was filled with edits of you both. Even fanfiction was made!

Journals now referred to him as "The lovesick japanese player", and fans jokingly called him a loser. At least he thinks it's a joke. He hopes so.

Whatever. They didn't need to know how every goal he made was dedicated to you and only you. Didn't need to know that you were the one comforting him after the games he lost, patting his head gently and letting him cry or shout on your shoulder. And they definitely didn't need to know that he kept the broken hair tie, which he ties in his football shoes' laces every game, kissing it as a good luck charm (cause it was his good luck charm. You were the one to bring his good luck.).

Cause, as you said, ha may be a loser, but he was your loser, and he'd wear that title with pride, just as he wears your hair ties. And just as he hopes you'll wear his last name soon, too.

Afterall, if he wears your hair ties with so much happiness, imagine him with your wedding ring.

God, he really is just a lovesick fool.

~ A/N: not proofread!

Masterlist

[yvesdot]

How To Get Roughly 50 Notes On An Original Writing Post And Possibly Net A Single Reader

I had someone ask today how I get people to click through and read my writing, and I'm realizing that I've never actually made a post all in one place of everything I do to get a new piece of short fiction off the ground... so here you go! How to get (some) eyes on your work, even if it is not published anywhere of interest and you don't have a marketing team behind you.

The #1 thing is presentation. You want to get people's attention, and once you have it, convince them to keep paying attention. Fortunately, people tend to be both reasonable and predictable, which means all you have to do is follow The Formula.

(original post link)

Here's the formula from the above post broken down:

[giant horizontal title card, preferably animated to catch the eye] OR [a few tasteful parallels, if you're good at parallel posts]

TITLE (linked to where you can read the piece) / wordcount

a quote that is representative of the tone, themes, prose style, and/or the "promise of the premise"

A longer pitch, featuring the overall subject of the piece (transsexual reality TV drama), any comp titles (Detransition, Baby), the main draw (in this case, watching trans people be awful to clueless cis people), major themes (performance), and any other promises you'd like to make (food romance and tigers). You can see that the quote I chose delivers on the promise of trans people intellectually outperforming cis people-- if I were a reader, I would be more likely to trust that the rest of the pitch was accurate based on that assurance.

If you have any positive reviews on your piece, say so. If it has won any awards or contests, say so. If your work has made people cry, Doja Cat - Say So. Always. Generally speaking, more personal and more detailed is better, but keep it to one or two people-- e.g. "when I gave this to my S/O to read he shot milk out of his nose so far I had to go clean under the couch" or "my favorite review of this piece is the reader who said they read it chapter-by-chapter under their covers because they wanted it all to themself." This should be one sentence.

Depending on where the story is published, what you usually promote, etc., it may be worthwhile saying the story is free. Use your judgment on whether the reader can tell.

I also like putting my links at the bottom so someone seeing this on a friend's dash can easily track me around the 'Net. They make me look more professional (I now include a link to my website) and they visually balance the post, in my opinion. This post also happened to have some additional links for bonus content.

This is not as high stakes as it seems. I'm not 100% happy with the pitch here, and I'm not 100% happy with the graphics I've used in other cases. These are some bones that help to sell the piece even when the details aren't as sharp.

REBLOGGING

When is the last time you read something the first time you saw it on your dash? I schedule reblogs of all important posts at least twice over the next 2-3 days, often three times so I can get the morning/afternoon/evening reblog. If your followers tend to be more active at certain times, go ahead and use those. In the past I've intentionally scheduled posts for times I knew more popular mutuals were active, and it has paid off!

I also schedule a reblog for a week and a month and sometimes even a full calendar year out, because I know there is going to be that person who tags the piece '#to read' and instantly forgets about it, only to get excited when they see it weeks later. I am very often that reader. The goal is to catch people when they're ready to read immediately, and this is a game of chance.

Every so often, I go through my entire #writing or #important writing updates or even just #popular tag(s) and queue two dozen posts before shuffling my queue to redistribute matters. This keeps my older work circulating, ensuring new readers get a chance to see older pieces and giving those older pieces another shot at dashboard space. (More on #popular later.) This sounds like a lot, which is why you have to space everything pretty far apart. Fortunately, this is the world's best site for cool things to reblog. I guarantee you that you can find something new you love to post in the meanwhile.

COPING WITH FAME

The post above is what I, a published author, consider "doing well" for a post about my writing on Tumblr. As of October 10th, 2024, over two years after its initial posting and over five years into my posting doggedly about my original fiction, it has 77 notes. More than half (43) are likes. Around half of the reblogs are me promoting my own work or the same very sweet person dutifully reblogging me every time I do so. Glancing through the reblogs now, I know of four people whom I can confirm have read it. Presumably, there are more who are completely silent and have never interacted with the post whatsoever. Genuinely: wahoo!! I am so grateful and happy for the attention and reception of my work.

This is the number one thing I suggest: focus on what you have, and not what you lack. Imagine your post from the perspective of an outsider: even one reblog means you convinced that one person to spread your art! How cool is that! This is also good advice because moping is simply not helpful; it will not get you more reads. (And no, neither will guilting others. Kill that vent post in your head!)

GETTING FOLLOWERS

I don't have that many followers. Of the followers I do have, people are very unpredictably active. When I hear about other people's follower counts I am consistently surprised, because people with half of mine will have fans and haters the likes of which I could not possibly dream of. I follow 500-follower folk who post "I ate a strawberry today" and get 6 asks ranging from "Wow I respect you so much for eating that strawberry" to "I'm going to come to your address at [REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED] and shove bananas down your throat for hating on my favorite fruit."

I point this out to establish three important things. 1) Be grateful for what you have (in my case, 0 anonymous hate asks about fruitpinions), 2) followers have far less impact on interaction than one might think, and 3) followers don't engage with the things you might like them to.

Think about yourself. Are you more likely to reblog a photo of a cat in a pumpkin (alright, here) or something advertising fifteen minutes' worth of writing, which could be, for all you know, bad? Or, for that matter, by a person you should not like to support? Reblogs on generically interesting things are 'safer' (unfortunately) than reblogs on art, and it makes perfect sense that people are skittish around the latter. People don't often reblog things they haven't read, and nobody can reblog every artpost on their dash. Having someone else put it there, however, is incredibly powerful—someone's vetted this post as Worth a Reblog, after all. Having more followers allows for much more of this.

(Followers don't guarantee any one sort of interaction, but having more of them is rarely bad. Rarely.)

Across my most popular posts, one theme becomes very obvious: people like things that apply to them or their blog. I try to post writing advice/opinions/memes every so often, because I know I have a loyal base of writerfolk who like to see that from me, and it's "easier" to reblog than my writing. This is simply the nature of the universe. I used to pretty frequently go into the #writeblr tag and check out what was recently popular so I could figure out how to serve the same base, and from time to time it worked.

You're welcome to examine the list of #writing posts that made it to 100 notes, because each tends to have a notable reason behind its success: a reblog with an exceptionally good review, a contest win, a wordcount that lends itself to pasting the whole thing in one go.

(Posts about my book's release are a notable exception, in part due to Blaze and in part due to my absolutely relentless flogging of their reblog buttons during the ~year of promotion. Also in large part to a dedicated circle of friends who passed the post around nonstop! Thank you so much!!)

A lot of people will tell you to attempt covert reciprocal promotion. You know—reblog a lot of stuff, in the hopes that people will reblog yours. If I could change one thing on Tumblr, it would be this: the culture that quietly encourages disingenously interacting with other people with a secret True Goal in mind. (On the autism website.)

Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, do not do this. If you comment on other people's work, do it because you're happy to do so. When I released Paper Tigress, I went through everybody else who responded to the same prompt and read their work, because I had the day off and I was curious. This has led to Paper Tigress having more comments on Reedsy than one of my contest winners, and even outranking the shortlisted story in the same prompt category. However, this would have been a waste of my time if I did not genuinely enjoy reading the other stories. I read 80+ stories, taking several hours, and gained 30 comments from the venture (half my comments are my responses).

Crucially, I do not promote other writers' work on Tumblr in the hopes of them reading or boosting mine. This is the #1 tip I see thrown around that I viscerally disagree with. While, again, I am grateful for engagement with my work regardless of the context, I do not want people suffering through my work in the hopes that I will promote them. I work a full-time job, and my reading calendar is perpetually overbooked, including with work by my absolute best of friends. Even if it wasn't, I think it would be quite insulting if I were posting works in the hopes that someone would choke it down like medicine. I post what I think is good so that people can read and enjoy it. If you are not enjoying it, I do not want you to feel as though you have to read it. My aim is to give to others what my favorite authors have given me, which is most certainly not A Bad Time Spent Being Dishonest In The Hopes Of Getting Something Back. You have better things to do with your time. Please be honest.

CONCLUSION

Realistically, the readers I have, I gained through being a published author for five years promoting my behind off on Tumblr, the least forgiving social media for promotion. People like it when you have a book they can buy, especially if it has Goodreads reviews that make it look like you have been vetted for them. Many people who follow me have read only Something's Not Right and nothing else. (Many people who follow me have read everything but Something's Not Right.) I have posted dozens of pieces on Tumblr and Wattpad (and AO3). I gained a small number of readers writing and posting fanfiction for the Locked Tomb Tri(?)logy, even though I marketed it absolutely terribly.

Just keep writing. Keep writing, keep posting, and keep making sure everyone who follows you knows you write. And keep writing because you want to. There's no better advice than that.

[walpu]

Hi, it’s me again!! >_<

When I tell you I gobbled that headcannon post up, I went down on two knees and howled /hj

Anyways, do you think you can do some headcannons on Aventurine with Bodyguard! Reader if you have the time? But this time, with a twist :3

See, reader does care for Aven, you truly do, but before that, you were tasked by Everflame mansion and by Duke inferno himself to kill Aventurine. But you can’t bring yourself to, no, not when you’ve fallen head over heels for him.

When reader does become Aven’s bodyguard, you maintain that serious, no nonsense demeanor, but if he looks closely enough, he’ll see the lovestruck puppy hiding under the hardened shell that they’ve put on.

But the guilt catches up. One day, at least a few months after reader’s betrayal to Duke Inferno, you catch sight of an assassin sent to finish the job they couldn’t do. And so, the secret is finally revealed.

Personally, I think Aventurine would be betrayed, like very, how could he not be? He’s always kept people at an arm’s length away, and when he finally lets you in his walls, and starts falling for thier charm, this secret of yours comes out. He fires you almost immediately, but the way he stares after you with misty eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

The next months were absolute hell. Reader found a new job as a barista, and is quite enjoying the quaint and simply life it provides, even if you do miss Aventuirne. He’s probably still seething at you, right?.

Wrong. Because you’ve gone MIA, Aventurine been scouring all over the place, trying so hard to find you. He’s loosing sleep, forgetting to eat, all things that you would chide him about. Aeons, he misses you so much.

And when he does find you, he’s overjoyed, and when the two finally reunite, the first thing you do is to apologize deceiving him. But he forgave your silly ass a long time ago, why else would he have spent the last months trying to find you?

Long story short, it’s a happy ending, Aventurine couldn’t be more grateful he has you to be his bodyguard, his closest confidant, and most importantly, his lover <33

I’m so sorry if I went on a ramble, but this idea’s been plaguing me so bad I literally can’t focus on anything else 😭😭

I'VE BEEN LOOKING FORWAR TO WRITIG FOR THIS REQUEST SINCE THE MOMENT I SAW IT I ADORE YOUR BODYGUARD!READER x AVEN SERIES btw thank you for sharing the c.ai bot

I feel like the only thing I do with each post is apologize for taking so long but right now I like from work trip to work trip so I'm actually really really sorry this madness should end soon 😭😭😭😭 Hope you'll enjoy this post, it was my goal to finish it before version 2.1

bodyguard/assassin!reader x Aventurine

characters - Aventurine notes- gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, no beta

It was not a fast prosses for the both of to form a genuine connection. Moreover, you know goddamn well you shouldn't get attached to him.

And at first it seems easy, like yeah another rich playboy, no big deal, you've delt with people like him before, right? Right??????????????

Yeah until suddenly he's not just a rich playboy.

The more you notice how deeply lonely and unhappy he is, the more your heart softens towards him. And the more your heart softens, the more he relaxes around you, seeing behind your cold exterior.

He's not used to people caring about him. And yes, of course he knows it's your job but still, for a man who never had a real friend before, he surely can appreciate having someone who not only won't leave him but also will listen to him and look after him.

And the part about you being paid to do it? Oh well. It's the same guy who offers you to use him as you wish and who's greeting line is "I can play a role of a friend :)"

Mf is FRIENDLESS, LONELY and PATHETIC /affectionally

He'll take what he can get okay.

But goddamn. Don't think he doesn't notice how you started going out of your ways to take care of him. How you make him eat, tend to his small injuries ("my, my, you're my bodyguard, not a doctor. perhaps someone wants a raise, hm?~"), how you drag him out of casino or his office when it's too late.

It drives him crazy. It's not beneficial for you, right? The w h y.

He won't ask. Instead he will watch and slowly fold.

You are probably suffering tho lol. You should just kill him already, you've had so many opportunities to end him. Instead you spoon feed him soup because he claims he has a hangover after a night in the casino. And this little brat looks so smug about it too!!!!

Sometimes he feels like it's too good to be true: you being here, taking care of him, looking after him. The line between professional relationship, friendship and... something more is way too blurry already, and he knows it's dangerous but it just feels so good. Too good.

Duke inferno gets tired eventually. He sends someone to remind you of your mission. To remind you who you really work for.

Well, the duke receives a warning of his own. The dead body of his little messenger.

You know, of course, that the Everflame mansion thugs are not easily intimidated. They will be back. So you better warn Aventurine and tell him everything.

You can't keep lying to him, can you?

Well. It's surprisingly not as easy as you thought. After all, even if they will send someone, you'll just protect Aven like you always do, right? He doesn't have to know. Not about your past, not about your original mission. He keeps his secrets too, so why can't you?

You know goddamn well why tho. You know and yet you still can't bring yourself to tell him the truth.

It goes on like that for several months and Aventurine notices that something is clearly off, something is bothering his darling protector. He tries to pry, to tease, to cling, to pester you. Something to make you open up. Or, at least, get distracted. He can't help but feel anxious. Why are you suddenly so reversed? Do you want to leave his side? Does he not pay you enough? Does he bother you too much? It eats him alive while he tries to mask it by pestering you even more. As if to test you. As if to make sure that it's not the case.

All the hell breaks loose one day when you discover that Duke inferno has sent another assassin to finish the job.

I you spare the details but yeah, your secret was unraveled. And it wasn't pretty at all.

You have never seen emotions so vivid on Aven's face. Part of you always wanted to see him more vulnerable, more open with you. But not like this. Not this look of utter betrayal.

He collects himself quick enough, hiding behind the mask of mock disappointment.

"Hm, well, I recall mentioning that treachery is just another tool of the trade. But it seems like our little deal is not paying off for me anymore" he says with a cold chuckle, shaking his head a little. "After all, you have very little to offer outside of your dog-like loyalty. But seems like this dog bit both hands that fed it".

You were expecting him to call for your arrest but instead he just fires you. It hurts nevertheless.

What hurts even more is that look he gives you when you part ways. It's like his pretty eyes are even more lifeless now.

At first he feels this overwhelming emptiness. It truly feels like the fate is mocking him. One time, just one time, he allowed himself to relax around someone. Just this one time, with this one person who took care of him, who listened to him, who looked out for him. And this person was supposed to kill him.

Then his stupid brain finds another way to torture him. He keeps thinking about the way you have always protected him, the way you took the hit even during the last attack, when Duke Inferno's new assassin tried to get to him. You were ready to leave your past life behind to stay by his side, weren't you?

As soon as he realizes it he goes frantic. Of course he tries to find you asap but of course someone as competent as you would be able to disappear without a trace in no time. You were an assassin, after all. A skilled one too, since he never even suspected you.

This connection the two of you had, this realization that you really cared enough to betray your client, all of this makes him realize that he needs you so, so much. He needs to feel this care again, he need to look at you again, to know that you're here by his side.

He misses you so much. Your nagging, your reassurance, your touch. He's like an addict who felt what it feels like to love and beloved in return for the first time and now he can't live without it.

He doesn't eat or sleep properly, his head plagued by the thoughts about you. What if you forgot all about him? What if you're wounded? Where are you even? His fingers itch to trace your face and your scars.

He thinks about how you would scold him for not taking proper care of himself and it makes him miss you even more.

Aven finds you after a few months. It was honestly a coincidence, one of his subordinates saw you in the coffee shop you were working at.

He though that finding you will calm him down but seeing you from afar, looking somewhat peaceful and cozy, having a regular job... it's too much. And what if you really don't need him anymore? Maybe you never did? After all, he's painfully aware that he probably needs you much more than you need him.

And yet, he decides to take this risk. He's a gambler, after all.

"Somehow I'm not surprised you're good even at that. How come you have never made me coffee before, hm?"

You literally freeze on the spot after hearing this familiar voice next to you.

When you finally get to talk, you can see he's really trying to look calm and collected but how can he? His hands are shaky and his voice cracks. It breaks your heart.

He doesn't even let you finish your apology, pressing a finger to your lips.

"Hush, darling. All is forgiven. In fact, I even have an interesting proposal. I'm can be a generous man after all".

He can't fool you. Not with this shaky soft voice. And he knows it as well.

Please hug that fool and kiss him. Swear that you won't ever leave him again. Swear that you want to be by his side. As his bodyguard, as his friend, as something more. So much more. That's all he really need to feel like he's at home.

[lenasai]

this is one of the campaigns i spotlighted a while back. ghazi's campaign is progressing, but very slowly - too slowly for the circumstances he and his family are living through. €500-€1000 short term goals are taking an excruciatingly long amount of time to reach.

his situation, in his own words (emphasis mine):

When the war on Gaza began on October 7, 2023, my relatives and uncles took refuge in our house, thinking that it was the safe house, and 5 days after their displacement to us, the occupation carried out a brutal and violent bombardment on the neighborhood next to us. On the morning of Friday, 10/13/2023, the Zionist occupation called my older brother, asking him to escape, evacuate all the buildings of the entire neighborhood, and head to the south of the Gaza Strip. It was very suspicious and scary and we didn't know where to turn. We had to evacuate. I had to flee with my family to a safe area, leaving behind my neighborhood, my home, my shops, my work, my memories, literally everything. We took refuge with our relatives in Al-Maghazi camp, and 12 days after we were displaced, on 10/25/2023, the occupation bombed the bakery opposite the house in which we were displaced, and I was injured in my foot. On the left side and an injury, my brother suffered minor burns to her face, and the house became partially destroyed, but it is the only shelter we have, so we restored what we could to live in the house as much as possible. On November 4, 2023, warplanes targeted the bakery after it was destroyed again. Thank God, none of us were injured, and nothing was done here. We were able to restore, but we cleaned and sat down because there was no other place, and on the morning of Wednesday, January 3, 2024, the occupation made a sudden ground entry into Al-Maghazi camp, and here we were surrounded and we could not leave the house. There was no water, food or any other necessities of life. We just sat and heard the sounds of shelling, bullets and missiles. We are waiting for our turn to come. Until Sunday morning, January 7, 2024, we miraculously managed to leave Al-Maghazi under bombardment and took refuge in Rafah. I had no one or relatives there, and we built a tent to shelter me and my family. On May 28, 2024, we were displaced for the sixth time after nights and days of violent bombing on tents in Rafah’s Mawasi. They were displaced and we did not know where to run. I cannot describe the situation adequately; I think you've seen enough on the Internet. I lost my home, my shops, my family's source of income, and I was left with nothing. I have lost many friends over the past four months. However, I feel nothing but complete helplessness and inability to help my family. The feeling of helplessness is humiliating and painful, as negative thoughts dominate your thoughts, such as thinking about suicide or wishing for death to escape this feeling. But here I am breathing again and thinking of positive solutions in the face of crushing death. I'm trying to cling to life.

today, ghazi made an update: his campaign finally reached its €9,500 short term goal. the next one is €10,000. let's help him reach that goal by the end of next week! i think it's completely doable, but he needs your help. even €5 helps, but if you truly cannot donate, then please spread his campaign in the hopes that it will reach someone who can.

this campaign has been featured on the @gazafunds website and i trust its legitimacy.

€9,629 / €10,000 (short-term) - €371 left to short-term goal

€9,629 / €50,000 total

please share this post so other people can see this campaign!

[writingpastmybedtime]

Cinderella AU

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x f!Reader

Summary: The classic Cinderella AU. It's heavily inspired by the Disney live-action remake, but with a few tweaks here and there.

Word Count: 8k, oops..?

Warnings: None, except for extra cute Prince Sebastian.

A/N: It’s my first time writing for Seb at this length & I'm kind of proud of how it turned out. Oh, and I gave Sebastian the nickname 'Bash'. Hope you love it as much as I do!<3

Once upon a time, or however the story begins, there lived a girl named Y/N. She was the most beautiful thing in her parents’ eyes and held the kindest heart. They lived happily in a secluded small mansion. They weren’t the richest per se, but they could keep up with the house and even had a few workers in the kitchen and garden. 

As time went by, the girl discovered a passion for music and playing the piano. Her sweet melodies often graced the halls of the house, and whenever she wasn’t behind the piano, she had her face buried deep in a journal, writing down every last thought that had occurred to her that day.

Alas, the time that had passed had also come bearing sombre news. The little girl’s mother had fallen ill with a disease so rare, there was nothing left to do but wait. Those three months spent waiting were the hardest for the girl, as she was always staying beside her mother’s bed, reading to her, brushing her hair, and playing lovely tunes on the piano to soothe her mother’s mind. 

It wasn’t until one night, that the clock in the writing room, which her mother so deeply loved, stopped working and the house suddenly grew more quiet.

Years passed, and Y/N grew even more beautiful. She was always happy and kind, helping out everyone around the house and being there for her father. Y/N’s father was a merchant, so it was not uncommon that he had many trips abroad and many foreign friends. He had a certain way with him, his friends even called him a man of many words. He always found a way to insert an inspirational quote into whatever conversation was going on. His personal favourite, however, was a quote about courage. 

Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.

“Darling, would you accompany me to the garden?” Her father asked her. Of course, she followed him with a smile on her face. He began to tell her of a widowed woman, with two daughters just a few years older than Y/N. He explained that he’d known the woman's late husband, having met him many times on his travels. 

“They need a place to stay and they need a sense of security,” he began shyly, before continuing. “I think I can offer them that, I think we can offer them that.”

Y/N smiled as she took her father's hands in hers. “Father, if it’s something that would make you happy, it would make me even happier.” He smiled at her and pulled her into a hug.

Madam Deveraux was a widowed noblewoman with two daughters, Arabella and Isadora. The Madam herself was mostly reserved and you could never tell what she was thinking just by looking at her. Her gaze always remained strong, even when the death of her dear husband crushed her spirit. As months passed after the tragic death, the demeanour of Madam Deveraux changed. Once just a composed and modest lady, was now hardened at heart, with only one true goal. To see her two daughters succeed and be wed off to rich husbands, no matter the cost.

Arabella, the eldest daughter was certainly pretty on the eyes, however, she had a mouth to her that diminished her beauty to a certain degree. Never afraid to speak her mind and even once in a while throw in a more vulgar term here or there. She was fascinated with all kinds of different adult romance books - that’s where she probably learned those indecent phrases. She also loved to draw, but truth be told, she wasn’t really any good at it.

Isadora, like her sister, was also beautiful in her own way. She certainly wasn’t as crude as her sister, but still had a peculiar sense of self. Her ego was probably the biggest between the three of them. Every reflective surface she saw made her gaze at herself longingly, always fixing her hair or makeup. Always whispering sweet affirmations to herself. She knew she was the prettiest person, whenever she walked into a crowded room. Even if the snobby personality sometimes made her mother’s eyes roll.

After a few weeks, it was time again for Y/N’s father to take his leave. Y/N felt crushed, and a sense of dread filled her heart, making her father promise that he’d return.

Unfortunately, on his travels back from overseas, Y/N’s father fell ill and was never able to return to her. It saddened her deeply, but due to her chores, given to her by her step-mother, she didn’t have time to dwell on her grief. 

Months passed, with her chores growing bigger and bigger. She had given up her bedroom because Arabella and Isadora were too cramped up in their own smaller one. Unfortunately for Y/N, instead of getting the smaller room for herself, she had to stay in a storage room right next to the kitchen. It wasn’t the most tedious place to be, for someone somewhere must’ve had to have even worse living conditions. That thought kept her appreciating her commodities and trying to tidy up the tiny storage room as best as she could.

“Y/N, could you be a dear and help your sisters with their dresses?” Madam Deveraux’s cold voice could be heard from upstairs, as Y/N was just finishing up setting the table in the kitchen. Sighing, but still with a smile on her face, the girl walked upstairs to assist her step-sisters. Arabella was tugging Isadora’s corset, to make it more tight, as Isadora was standing near the mirror letting out gasps of air. 

“A little bit of help, please?” Isadora asked in her saccharine voice, looking at Y/N through her mirror. Y/N nodded and took over from Arabella, pulling and pulling until the corset was perfectly on Isadora’s body. 

“Hmm, I look good, don’t you think so?” Isadora spun around, now in her huge pink sparkling dress, which did not do her beauty any justice. Y/N, however, was not one to judge. She just smiled lightly and nodded. 

“Pfft, as if you had any sense of style,” Isadora went to grab her rings, before putting them on her dainty fingers. Her brown hair was curled in an updo and she had put on a plethora of perfume, that was way too sweet, but ironically, fit her perfectly.

“Hah, you’re right sissy, this wench does not know anything about fashion. I mean look at how she’s dressed right now.” Arabella looked at Y/N from head to toe, her face grimacing. Y/N lowered her head to look at her grey dress. Yes, it wasn’t as fancy as the gowns on her step-sisters, but it had belonged to her mother. The grey dress made her feel some kind of sanity, running around doing chores for the Deverauxs’. Picking invisible lint from the pocket of her skirt, the step-sisters just laughed at how humiliated Y/N looked.

“Yes, you do look absolutely atrocious as of late,” Isadora smirked as Arabella grinned, taking joy in embarrassing Y/N. “You’re just plain ugly,” the eldest sister managed to get out before laughing.

“Here, take this, go buy yourself something prettier,” Isadora scoffed as she handed Y/N three silver pieces. You could not get anything fairly pretty with that kind of sum. Y/N had given up on pretty dresses a while ago, being content with the ones her mother had left her. She shook her head at the silver coins, not accepting the pity donation. 

“Fine have it your way, I was just trying to be nice,” Isadora threw the silver pieces on the floor as Arabella snorted in an unladylike manner. “Now leave, as I remember correctly Mama wanted you to go down to the forest to pick up some flowers for the gathering tonight.”

Y/N nodded to the girls, before hastily leaving the room, blinking back tears. She had grown accustomed to their derogatory comments, but that didn’t mean a part of her always ached at their remarks. Never had she been anything, but good and friendly towards the girls and their mother. She shook her head, as if to shake it clear from the depressing thoughts and picked up a dark-brown wooden basket from the kitchen table.

The walk from the house to the forest was always Y/N’s favourite. As soon as the house with the hectic people inside of it disappeared from her field of view, a certain kind of calmness filled Y/N. It was as if she could finally breathe without restrictions. Even the world around her seemed a little bit more saturated. Birds were flying around, singing their beautiful songs; it was spring after all. Y/N started to hum a melody she used to love to play the most on her piano.

Y/N twirled around and smiled, suddenly feeling joyous and elated. She closed her eyes, still twirling, liking the feel of the afternoon sun on her face. A total bliss. Suddenly, when taking her last twirl, she felt her foot get stuck on a tree root and braced herself for a fall.

However, the fall did not come. 

Instead, strong hands had grasped her waist, holding her a few centimetres off the ground. Y/N finally opened her eyes, the sun making her squint a little before finally her vision was back in focus. She was looking into blue eyes. Into the most gorgeous blue eyes she’d ever seen. Serene, deep blue eyes, that she could get lost in. That she did get lost in.

“Miss, are you alright?” Y/N blinked, before realising the man was still holding her. She stumbled to get out of his grasp, before wiping her dress from invisible dirt. Her cheeks flushed pink, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you..?” Y/N said, waiting for the person’s name to finish her sentence. To thank him personally. She now had time to look at the man that had so gracefully caught her. He had brown medium-length hair, which seemed abnormally soft and Y/N wished she could tread her fingers through it. The man smiled, no grinned rather, and Y/N was taken aback by how handsome this stranger looked.

“You really don’t know who I am?” The man chuckled and Y/N shook her head quizzically. Was she supposed to know him? She browsed through her brain, wondering who this man could be; maybe she’d met him before. But no, she’d remember him. She could never forget those eyes.

Y/N saw a peculiar look in his gaze before his grin grew even bigger and he introduced himself. “My name’s Bash,” he said, and Y/N furrowed her brows, but smiling nonetheless. 

“That’s a peculiar name,” she spoke, before realising her comment was nowhere near acceptable nor did it come off as friendly. The man, Bash, as she’d learned, let out a genuine laugh at the comment. Y/N felt embarrassed and was about to apologise before he stopped her.

“I like your candour,” he smirked. “It’s actually a nickname. A name that my father calls me whenever I haven’t done anything to upset him.” Y/N smiled, no longer feeling embarrassed, but just a little bit of something else. A strange warm feeling was creeping up in her chest. 

“Well, thank you, Bash, for catching me. And I’m sorry you even had to, I’m not normally so clumsy.”

“It’s no problem, besides, what even is a beautiful girl like you doing out in these woods anyway?” Bash asked, not being able to take his eyes off Y/N. He’d never seen a girl so beautiful before. And ‘beautiful’ was not even enough to describe her. 

“Oh, I’m just on my way to get flowers for a party later on. Which does remind me, that I should be on my way,” Y/N looked down at her basket, which she hadn’t fortunately dropped, when she had stumbled. Realisation hit her then, that he’d called her beautiful, but she couldn’t believe it. Perhaps she’d heard wrong?

“Do you work nearby?” Bash asked, his eyes still admiring her own. He did not want to leave her this soon after just meeting. But her duty called and truth be told, so did his. He wasn’t even supposed to be out here. He was out riding with his horse when suddenly he heard the most beautiful voice humming somewhere nearby. Having left his horse a few metres behind, was when he finally saw her. She was twirling and twirling and completely not noticing the tree root that was about to make her fall on the next twirl. Thankfully, he was fast and had caught her on time. 

“Yes, I do. Are you from around here as well?” Y/N asked politely. Knowing that she should be going now, but his eyes were just too mesmerising, to not look away from, that she stayed grounded.

“I actually work at the castle,” he said, his eyes turning pink as if he was embarrassed about the notion. Y/N smiled at that. ���Must be nice,” she thought out loud, as Bash just shook his head at her comment.

“Depending on the day, it can be a little bit too much sometimes.” Y/N nodded at that, trying to understand what it must be like working amidst hundreds of people. Working for royalty.

“Well, it’s like my father always taught me,” she began as she gave him the sweetest smile. “Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.” Bash raised his eyebrow at that. “And do you feel like that?” 

“Huh?”

“Do you feel seen?” He inquired, and Y/N shrugged. The question was raw - she hadn’t expected that. Did she feel seen? No, not as of late. But she couldn’t tell him that, now could she? She noticed the sun had turned just a tiny bit more golden and felt fear rush through her. She was supposed to be making supper for the Deverauxs and their guests.

“Look, it’s been wonderful having this chat with you, but I really must take my leave,” she nodded to him, taking her basket and turning around, completely forgetting about the flowers. 

Bash felt a tinge of sadness in him, before nodding and giving her a final smile. “Well, it was wonderful making your acquaintance. I hope to see you again someday.” Y/N turned around at his voice. She nodded, grinning at him.

“So do I.”

“Soon,” Bash said and saw Y/N blush, before finally taking her leave. 

She found some wild poppies just behind the house and hoped they’d do. Fortunately, Madam Deveraux only gave her a quizzical look, before dismissing her. She took a breath, thanking the gods that her step-mother did not freak out over the flower arrangement. All evening as she was making supper for everyone, her thoughts went back to the kind stranger she’d met. 

Bash.

Y/N was browsing through the city fair, currently looking at new books she wished she could buy when suddenly a horn was heard above in the upper city. She glanced up from the booth towards the sound, seeing everyone gathering around.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” a man in a formal outfit began. Behind him stood many other men, dressed the same.

These were men from the castle, she concluded. Her thoughts went to Bash for a second, before focusing back on the man giving out the information.

“As requested by His Royal Highness, Prince Sebastian, there is to be a ball, for two weeks hence, in honour of him choosing a bride. As per his wishes, the ball is open to everyone in the country.”

Squeals and cheers were coming from every corner of the city at the news. Y/N suddenly felt very happy. Maybe this was her chance to see Bash again in the castle, after all, he did say he worked there.

Having made her way back home, she rushed to Madam Deveraux, who was sitting in the living room with Arabella and Isadora. The latter was playing the piano. Correction, trying to play, for Y/N, did not know it was possible to make that kind of noise on the delicate instrument.

“What has gotten you in a rush? Your dress is all dirty again,” Arabella scrunched her face, clearly disgusted by Y/N’s clothing once again.

“I was just in the city when they announced there is to be a ball in two weeks as the Prince is to finally choose a bride. It’s open to everyone.” She smiled as she saw Madam Deveraux jump up from the couch, her daughters following her. Suddenly they screamed and the two girls jumped around.

“I’m going to be the new princess,” Isadora squealed before Arabella nudged her on the shoulder.

“No, I am!” Arabella insisted before Madam Deveraux made them quiet down.

“Y/N, you have to go into town and get three beautiful dresses,” Madam Deveraux smiled at her, a new prosperous future in mind for her daughters. She knew they had to look their best to catch the eye of the Prince.

“Yes, yes I will. Thank you for letting me come with you.” Y/N said as she was about to leave back to the city, her mind joyous and excited. Madam Deveraux had finally accepted her as part of the family and she got to go to the ball as well.

“Come with us?” Madam Deveraux scoffed and raised her eyebrow. “Why in the seven hells do you think you’re coming with us?”

Y/N started to say something before she was rudely cut off.

“Nuh, uh-uh.” Madam Deveraux pointed her finger at Y/N. “You do not belong at events like these. You will not go, I forbid you.” 

Y/N felt tears in her eyes, not understanding why she was being so mean to her. 

“Oh, Mama, look. You’ve made the duckling cry.” Arabella snickered and Isadora laughed.

“But why? All I’ve ever done is be nice to you. I do all these chores, you ask of me, and more.” Y/N started shaking but was reluctant to let out real tears. They cannot see me cry, she thought to herself.

“Have you ever considered that you’re maybe just not enough? Not enough pretty, not enough smart,” Madam Deveraux took steps toward Y/N, placing a finger under her jaw, pulling Y/N to look at her. “You’re no one.” Madam Deveraux turned away, before muttering instructions that Y/N was to buy dresses for the three of them the following day.

TWO WEEKS LATER

After helping the Deveraux sisters into their beautiful ball gowns and doing their hair, Y/N watched them leave in a big beige carriage. Letting her shoulders shrug, she finally let out the tears she’d been holding in. Y/N had hoped to visit the ball as well, hoping to see the blue-eyed man who had taken over her thoughts.

Y/N heard footsteps behind her and her name being called, before turning around and seeing Anastasia, an older lady that she’d known all of her life. Anastasia was a neighbour, a lovely woman, who always took care of Y/N whenever it was needed. Anastasia did not like the way Madam Deveraux had started treating Y/N after her father died and even offered to let Y/N move in with her. However, Y/N always passed the opportunity down, saying that she made a promise to her mother and father to look after the house.

“My dear,” Anastasia came closer, taking Y/N’s hand and seeing the tear trails on her face. “Why are you not at the ball? Everyone’s invited.” 

Y/N shook her head, before explaining that Madam Deveraux had forbidden her to attend the event. Anastasia pursed her lips, before muttering, more to herself than to Y/N.

“This will not do,” then louder, “this will not do at all.” She grabbed Y/N’s arm and started pulling her towards her house which was just a few minutes further away. “You will go to the ball, end of story.”

“But how? I have no horse to take me, let alone a carriage. Nor do I have a dress that is suitable for this kind of event.” Y/N saw Anastasia grin, before ushering her faster towards her house.

“Have courage, dear one. I will make sure you get everything.”

And just as Anastasia said, Y/N had it all. Anastasia was a well-endowed lady, who did not have the joy of getting to raise a daughter of her own. No, she was instead blessed with three sons. So it was mere luck, and perhaps a little bit of something else, that Anastasia had a beautiful periwinkle blue dress in her closet waiting to be worn. It fit Y/N perfectly as if it was made only for her to wear.

Anastasia did Y/N’s hair next, whilst explaining that she’d already talked with her personal chauffeur, who was to take Y/N to the ball. 

“I cannot begin to thank you enough, Lady Anastasia,” Y/N had tears in her eyes, although this time they were there for another reason. Gratitude.

“Oh, stop it, dear. I’ve told you a thousand times to not call me that, it makes me feel old,” she grimaced, before helping Y/N into the carriage. As Y/N took a step, Anastasia saw her shoes, which looked worn out and definitely didn't go along with the dress. She muttered something under her breath, before looking at Y/N again.

“There’s something in a box inside the carriage. Make use of them. And make sure to dance.” Y/N furrowed her brows, trying to understand, before she took her seat and felt the carriage take off slowly. “But wait, what about Madam Deveraux and the step-sisters? Won’t they recognize me?” Y/N asked worriedly, looking back at the kind woman.

“Oh, don’t worry about something so trivial, my dear, it’s already been taken care of,” Anastasia winked, before remembering, “and before I forget, try to return at midnight. I cannot explain why, but it’s imperative that you do so. You have to be back when the clock strikes twelve.” With a smile, Anastasia stayed behind, waving at Y/N. 

Y/N was a bit confused, even more so when she opened the box that was on the seat in front of her. Beautiful shoes, made out of iridescent glass, were inside the box. She gasped when she took one in her hand, not even feeling the weight of it, expecting it to be heavier. She slipped off her slippers, before trying on the glass shoes. 

They fit perfectly. As if these shoes, just like the dress, were made just for her. Maybe Anastasia was a witch? No, that sounds too evil. Maybe she was her Fairy Godmother. Y/N chuckled at the silly idea of magic but still felt curious about the predicament she was in.

Y/N didn’t have enough time to dwell on the whereabouts of her dress and shoes before she saw the castle in front of her. Only a few minutes separated her from the majestic building.

“Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen,” she whispered to herself, looking longingly at the castle ahead.

The castle itself was beautiful. Y/N had never seen a building so marvellous in her life. Taking slow steps through the garden in front of the castle, she was in awe. Twirling around and trying to take it all in. The castle inside was just about the same. Mesmerising to the point of Y/N being left speechless. She imagined what it’d be like to live here. So in contrast to her current living conditions.

Before she knew it, she was standing behind a huge door, with two guards standing on each side of it. This must be the ballroom, she figured. She gave a nod and a curtsy to the guards before they nodded in return and opened the doors.

She heard the buzz of the voices first, before walking towards the balcony that was connected to the ground floor of the ballroom. About a hundred and fifty other people were mingling downstairs, not counting the guards and other workers. 

She began to make her descent down the marvellous staircase, walking slowly, as if not to ruin the dress and not to stumble on her feet. She felt anxious, before reminding herself of her father's wise words again.

It was then that Bash saw her, from across the room. He’d been waiting for her for hours now. Hoping that she’d grace the castle with her beauty. And what a beauty she was, indeed. He was left bewildered when he saw her. She looked otherworldly.

She looked ethereal.

As if they were magnets, he felt an invisible string pull him towards her. He apologised to the princess currently in front of him and nodded to his father, before taking his leave and stepping onto the dance floor. 

Y/N had just reached the last step when she noticed the crowd parting and giving her way. At the end of the tunnel of people, she saw him.

It was him, it was truly him.

Bash.

And oh, the way he looked at Y/N. As if she’d hung the stars in the sky. 

He grinned when he was finally near enough to notice the sparkling eyeshadow on her eyelids and the pink tone of her lips. 

“Wow, just wow,” Bash let out, scratching the back of his head. A habit of his, whenever he was nervous. “I’m speechless, really.” Bash said, before taking Y/N’s hand and placing a delicate kiss on her knuckles. 

“You look breathtaking,” he said, looking up. Y/N blushed heavily, still not having noticed the ballroom growing quiet. All she saw was him. He was wearing a dark blue suit, with small gold intricate details, that made him look regal. It was then, Y/N realised, he was probably not just a mere worker in a castle.

“Would you allow me this dance?” He said as he stood up straight again. Y/N nodded, not trusting her words at the moment. He took her hand gently on his, placing his other on her waist. The pull between them only grew, the magnetic feel forcing them to be as close as possible.

And then they danced. He was a wonderful leader, and fortunately for Y/N, she was not so bad herself on a dancefloor, having taken dance lessons in her youth. The pair only had eyes for each other, completely ignoring the looks they were getting all over the ballroom. Some were jealous, some were elated, and some were more than angry with the outcome happening right now.

Y/N grinned as Bash twirled her not once, but twice, and then made her fall into his arms. The song ended and they were both out of breath. Y/N felt Bash put a strand of hair behind her ear, looking longingly into her eyes. He leaned in, before closing his eyes and stopping himself.

“Come with me, I want to show you something,” Y/N nodded as he led her away from the dancefloor to the confines of a secluded room filled with high bookshelves. There were rows and rows of books. Y/N twirled around, taking it all in. She’d never seen bookshelves this high before.

They were in a library. 

Sebastian noticed how Y/N smiled in awe as she took it all in. He just had a feeling she would like it.

“You didn’t tell me you were a prince, Prince Sebastian,” Y/N said when she turned around from admiring the thousands of books gracing the shelves. Bash chuckled.

“I told you I worked at the castle. Which is true,” Y/N narrowed her eyes before smiling. 

“I just didn’t specify,” Bash said, a finality in his tone. Y/N then saw him truly as he was, as a future king. 

A kind future king, she acknowledged. 

“True,” she took another longing look at the bookshelves before something else caught her eye on the other side of the room.

There was a black grand piano, waiting to be played. Almost calling her name as she took steps towards it. Bash saw what her eyes had fixed on, a grin growing on his face.

“Do you play?” He asked as Y/N let her fingers slide tenderly across the black-and-white keys. 

“I used to,” Y/N said honestly, still gazing longingly at the beautiful instrument in front of her. “I haven’t in a while, not since my father passed.” Bash looked at her sorrowfully, before whispering his condolences.

Sebastian took a seat in front of the piano, patting the place next to him. Y/N blushed before she obliged. 

She watched Sebastian place his hands on the piano, pressing a few keys, which made the sweetest tune. She closed her eyes and hummed to herself when she heard him continue. Suddenly the sound stopped and she opened her eyes to come face to face with Bash.

“Your turn,” he whispered, his face was so close to hers, that she could feel his breath on her face. She blushed but shook her head.

“I shouldn’t.”

“You should.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You should.”

“I shouldn’t, really.”

“You should, really.”

“I will.” She said finally, seeing Sebastian grin before she placed her trembling hands on the keys.

She took a breath before letting her hands take over, the notes she played were familiar to her, never forgotten. Even if she hadn’t played them in so long. She let herself be carried by the tune, until at some point, there was a dialogue.

Sebastian had accompanied her on the piano, he was playing on his side, giving supporting yet beautiful notes to the ones she played. Y/N was enthralled and totally mesmerised by the music. 

So was he. Before today, Sebastian was sure Y/N could not surprise him anymore. She was already perfect enough. But here she was, letting out a precious and delicate part of herself that not many could see. She trusted him. And he appreciated it more than Y/N could ever imagine.

Later on in their life, Bash would tell Y/N that this was the moment he fell in love with her.

As with all good things in life, the song came to an end, and Y/N removed her hands from the keyboard to her lap. Fidgeting with her fingers, as if suddenly ashamed of letting someone see her so bare.

Sebastian placed two fingers underneath her jaw, making Y/N look at him. Her eyes were so vulnerable, that he wanted to fix everything in her life. Not knowing anything about her, but vowing to himself that he’d do anything and everything in his power to make sure she was happy at all times.

Their faces were close again, just one small nudge, and he could feel her lips on his. Y/N saw as Bash’s gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, hers following the action. They were so–so close. Sebastian nudged Y/N’s nose with his own as if asking for permission. Y/N closed her eyes and grinned, him doing the same, and just as their lips were about to meet, Y/N heard the clock strike. 

Her eyes flew wide open and she pulled away. Looking at the clock behind them, she realised she was running out of time.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” Y/N said apologetically, coming to stand. Bash followed immediately, wanting to grasp her arm, but not wanting to overstep.

“You’ve been absolutely wonderful and I’ve had the time of my life, truly.” She started walking away, fast. Sebastian was bewildered, not understanding what went wrong.

“Why are you in a hurry?” He asked, giving her a smile to try to ease the sudden tension in the room.

“It’s hard to explain, I don’t even understand it myself. But I made a promise,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. Bash was trailing behind her; they still weren’t out of the confines of the library. “I don’t break my promises.”

“Then promise me, we will meet again,” Sebastian told her, as he saw her quicken the pace. She was at the door now. The door that connected to the ballroom. The door that would bring them back to reality. She gave him one last look over her shoulder, grinning at him the way she’d never before when she finally whispered so only he could hear.

“Goodbye, Prince Sebastian.”

She took off and Sebastian followed. He felt his pulse quicken in his chest, for he had been so close to telling her that he’d chosen her as his bride. 

And she’d used his full name. Not the nickname he’d given her.

Bash felt dread creep up on him. This wasn’t supposed to end like this.

And that’s when he realised he didn’t know her name. All this time together, and he had forgotten to ask the simplest of questions. 

She had passed the ballroom now and Sebastian tried his hardest to catch up. With his luck, though, what with being the prince and all, he wasn’t so quick. Girls touched him and pulled him into them, everyone trying to score a chance at a dance with the Prince Sebastian. 

Sebastian muttered countless apologies, before finally getting free of the wandering hands and quickening his pace towards her.

Y/N tried to run as fast as she could. Suddenly she stumbled and one of her glass shoes had fallen off. She looked behind herself and saw Bash following her, even if he was a bit farther behind. She did not have time to go back for the shoe, trying to get the other one off her foot, while still running.

She finally made her way to her carriage, letting it drive away. In her last glance towards the castle, she saw Bash picking up her glass shoe, holding it to his chest, and looking longingly towards the carriage. She blinked and felt moisture on her cheeks. She was devastated by leaving him, but he was a prince. He was the Prince Sebastian and she was just a commoner. A maid, if she could be called even that as of late. However, the feeling was bittersweet, as she’d have memories of this night to remind herself for the years to come.

The way his hands had felt, the way he had looked at her, the way his breath had made goosebumps on her skin when his nose brushed against hers.

The carriage dropped her off at her house, and she hastily made her way into her small room. As she changed into her other dress, the grey one that was her mother's, she noticed that her periwinkle dress was gone. She had just hung it up in her closet, but it was nowhere. She looked again and again, pulling out every other dress in her closet, but nothing.

It was as if it was never even there.

All that remained, which reminded her of the evening spent with the Prince, were her memories and the small glass shoe on the ground in her closet. Reminders, that she hadn’t imagined her time in the castle and that it had been real.

It was quiet until she heard voices coming from the hallway. Annoyed voices.

“I cannot believe, we didn’t get to dance with the Prince,” Isadora said grumpily, sitting down at the dining room table with a disappointed look. “All because of that stupid girl in that pretty dress.”

“At least I touched him,” Arabella closed her eyes, trying to remember the feel of his shoulder beneath her fingers. “He was so firm,” Arabella continued to daydream and took a seat next to her sister. Madam Deveraux was the last to arrive in the room, taking note of Y/N and how bubbly she suddenly looked.

She had a certain spring in her step, when she finally brought the food on the table, for them to eat. Madam Deveraux raised her eyebrow, eyeing Y/N thoroughly, but not saying a word. She thought Y/N would be more devastated at not having had the opportunity to attend the ball.

Something was going on. And she did not like it one bit.

Y/N spent the rest of her evening writing everything down in her diary. She wrote of every minute spent in the castle and her time with the Prince. Mostly, she wrote of the Prince.

It was a month after the ball when Y/N went to her room to check her closet. She had a peculiar feeling in her chest as if something were amiss. Her diary had been exactly where she’d left it, but to her surprise the glass shoe was missing. Y/N looked around her closet, but it was nowhere in sight.

“Are you looking for this?” She heard the cold voice of Madam Deveraux from the doorstep, before looking at her quizzically. “It’s a wonderful little thing, isn’t it.” Madam Deveraux said, looking at the shoe in her hand and then at Y/N. “Do you even know that there’s a countrywide search for whoever wore these shoes to the ball?”

Y/N was surprised, for she did not know the Prince was looking for her. Mostly because she hadn’t even been out of the house these previous weeks. Madam Deveraux had been giving her more chores than she could manage and now she figured out why.

“I won’t even begin to ask where you acquired such a thing, for I simply do not care.” Madam Deveraux hit the glass shoe on the wall next to her, making Y/N gasp and let out a weak ‘no’.

Madam Deveraux smirked, taking pleasure in Y/N’s sorrowful state. “It’s only a matter of time before they knock on our door. And you will not be a part of this household when they ask. It’s only me, Arabella and Isadora.” She grinned darkly, looking at Y/N sitting on the floor, tears in her eyes. 

“Do you understand? Do you now, finally, understand that sometimes a person of your stature is just not enough?” Y/N whimpered as Madam Deveraux closed the door of her room, locking it behind her.

Y/N looked around herself, she had approximately enough food in her room to last her a few days, but she had finally accepted her fate. She would never see Bash again.

It was the afternoon of the next day when Madam Deveraux heard knocking on her door. She placed on her most pleasant smile and opened the door wide, to be met with the new King’s chancellor. 

“Hello, we are here on behalf of His Majesty the King, to try to find his beloved. Are there any ladies in your household, to whom this shoe might belong?” The man in a dark blue suit asked, showing Madam Deveraux the glass shoe she was all familiar with.

Madam Deveraux was thrilled. She had ordered her daughters to lotion their feet daily and to try to squish them into smaller shoes, for she had to be sure that one of them would find their place near the King. 

Arabella was first, as was expected of the eldest daughter. She let out a bunch of profanities while trying on the shoe, pushing and pulling the glass to try to fit into it. “One more time,” she said, her face completely red from the puffing and huffing.

“Oh, give up already,” Isaroda said, whilst nudging her sister, making her fall and catching the shoe in her hand.

As expected, it didn’t fit her either.

Madam Deveraux was absolutely annoyed with her daughters, completely disappointed in their incompetence.

“I am sorry for wasting your time, Madam Deveraux,” the chancellor said, as he was stepping out of the house. Just as he was about to get back on his horse, there was humming to be heard.

The loveliest voice was humming a tune somewhere in the house. Madam Deveraux’s eyes shot up, trying to close the door behind her.

The chancellor raised an eyebrow. “Is there someone else in the house with you?” 

Madam Deveraux smiled smugly, however slightly shaken with the idea of the kingsmen hearing Y/N’s humming. She shook her head.

“No, there is no one, but me and my two daughters.”

“You’re lying,” said a strong voice, as a man jumped off his horse. He removed his hood, and everyone gasped.

It was Prince Sebastian. No, he was King Sebastian now. His father had fallen ill and given Sebastian the throne early.

Madam Deveraux was flabbergasted and immediately curtsied. “M-my prin-King, My King, I had no idea, you’d be here.” 

Sebastian took a few steps forward, still hearing the tune of Y/N’s humming. He knew it was her. It was the same song they’d played on the piano together. 

Sebastian looked at his chancellor, nodding towards the house. “Want to check it out, or should I?”

His chancellor, his best friend, smirked when he saw the glint in Sebastian’s eye. “Go ahead, Your Majesty.” Sebastian grinned before fastening his pace and entering the house. He followed the humming to the small door near the kitchen.

Sebastian saw that the door was locked, so with one, really-really strong pull he tore the lock off the door and exhaled before opening the door.

Y/N had no idea what was going on. She had been trying to calm herself ever since Madam Deveraux had locked her in this room. So when she heard noises coming behind the door, she had expected the worst. 

What she didn’t expect, however, were the kind eyes of Bash.

Sebastian faltered, his steps coming to a stop. There she stood. His beloved. His Queen. He furrowed his brows as he took in her commodities. The way she was dressed. The way her eyes were red-rimmed - an indication that she had been crying. 

She had been locked up.

Everything suddenly made sense to him and he wasted no time in hurrying towards Y/N and pulling her to him. Hugging her so close to him, finally, finally, feeling her in his arms.

“Bash,” She let out weakly and Sebastian just shushed her, placing his head on hers. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Y/N tried to push herself away from him, afraid to get even more hurt. She had felt enough disappointment and grief in her life to experience it again. And grief she would feel if she lost Bash too. So it was easier to push him away before her feelings got too strong. Although, deep down, she knew there was already no turning back. She had fallen for him. Deeply.

But Sebastian wouldn’t budge, he was only grinning more widely when he realised that Y/N, the one he was looking for, was safely in his arms.

“Do you know that I have a countrywide search put out for you?” He asked casually, not even minding that she was trying to break free of his hold. Letting his fingers run through her hair, silently comforting her.

“Bash, have you even realised who I am?” Y/N looked at him through tear-filled eyes. “I'm a nobody. A maid at best. I have no prospects, no dowry. I am not someone you want next to you to rule a kingdom.”

Sebastian laughed at that, pulling the smaller one closer to his chest, letting his head fall on her own again. “That’s where you’re wrong, darling,” He inhaled her scent before placing a kiss on her head.

“You’re strong, you’re honest. Your heart is made of gold. You’re the only person I want to share the throne with.”

She finally looked up into his eyes, to see the most sincere gaze ever directed towards her.

“Well, aren’t you supposed to give me a shoe to try on then? Or have I heard wrong?” She finally retaliated and he chuckled at that.

“Fair enough,” he said before slowly kneeling in front of Y/N.

She looked at him, Prince Sebastian, no, King Sebastian now, on one knee, holding up a glass shoe.

Her glass shoe.

“May I?” Bash cheekily said, before Y/N blushed, and pulled up her skirt just a bit to give Sebastian her leg.

Bash placed her foot in the shoe, and as a surprise to neither of them, it fit her perfectly. His eyes found hers instantly, a strong, confident look in his gaze.

“Can I now, finally, know your name?”

She laughed at that, a tear escaping her eye as she finally began to realise that her old life was coming to an end.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she said as Sebastian’s eyes glossed over as well.

“Y/N,” Bash tried the name out on his tongue, and he liked how it sounded. He closed his eyes and shook his head, before looking at Y/N again with a new determination in his face.

“Y/N, would you please do me the honour of marrying me and making me the happiest man to ever walk this Earth? I promise to give everything in me to make you happy. To keep you safe. Please, just please, end my misery and come back to the castle with me. As my equal. As my Queen.”

Y/N fell on her knees in front of Bash, her tears falling on her cheeks, although she did not care for them at that moment. All she saw was Sebastian’s face near her as she started to nod and laugh.

“Yes?” Bash looked at Y/N with a hopeful gaze, placing his hands on either side of her face, and pulling her towards him.

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling Bash’s forehead on her own.

“Yes.” 

Time stopped then.

Sebastian pulled Y/N closer to himself and finally connected their lips. Magical was not even the word to begin to describe how it felt like. They were made for each other, of that, were they both certain. Y/N had never experienced anything like this before. His lips were so smooth and soft on her own that she let out a whimper. Bash smiled at that and Y/N followed. 

They both pulled away, grinning at each other.

“I love you,” Bash said, caressing Y/N’s face with his right hand.

“I love you,” Y/N said before Bash connected their lips again.

It was no surprise that the wedding of Y/N and Sebastian happened only a week after their first kiss. Y/N had moved into the castle immediately after Sebastian had caught her locked up in the storage room. Madam Deveraux was put to trial, for treating Y/N the way she had. Arabella and Isadora, although crude in their temper, were pardoned, but made to leave the country, effective immediately. 

As for Y/N and Sebastian?

Well, their story is just at the beginning, filled with sweet kisses and even sweeter memories.

“Do you have any idea how happy you’ve made me?” Bash asked as he held Y/N, his wife now, close to himself.

“Hmm, I can begin to imagine it’s something close to the way I feel,” Y/N chuckled and Sebastian laughed, finally taking a look at her.

Ethereal, he thought. She stood in front of him in their shared bedroom, still in her white gorgeous wedding gown.

Sebastian just shook his head, still in disbelief that his happily ever after was in his arms at last. He pulled Y/N closer and placed his lips on hers. The one of many kisses shared that night.

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

Celebration: 88,978 Words in One Day!

Just yesterday, a few other LU writers and I, Hot Cheeto Hatred, hosted our first ever monthly (hopefully) Write-a-thon! This event ran on June 4 from 12 am EST to 12 am EST, with one goal in mind---write as many productive words within that day as humanly possible. Words included in the final marathon count ranged from storyboarding, fic writing, editing, answering comments, journalling and homework---basically, any words that furthered yourself, the writing community at large, or your stories. We utilized either the Discord Sprint bot or self-reporting to collect the numbers at the end. Everyone involved gave it their all, with most of them being present for most if not all of the run time as they were able, and I'm so proud of their dedication towards their craft. Anyways, here's the final breakdown of the numbers below, as well as the awards and titles earned by each participant, as decided by the discord server (and myself at random).

Now onto the awards:

I am pleased to report that @not-freyja (Freyja above) won the "Writer of All Time" Award, pulling ahead with 20,565 of our total words. What an accomplishment! Freyja participated from dawn to well, dawn, and they absolutely deserve all praise and awe.

I'm giving myself, @hotcheetohatred (Cheeto), the award "Writer of Some Time," as I fell behind our lovely Freyja by a mere few hundred words fifteen minutes before the clock struck midnight. Next time, Freyja, next time...

The "Actually A Writer" award goes to @marcusdoodlesalot (Marcus), who, despite the name, DOES actually write, not just draw! Who would have thought. Not Freyja, that's for sure.

The "Early Bird" award goes to @lerikwrites (Lerik), who solely sprinted in the wee hours of the morning (my time, at least). Terrible. Good job.

"Star Commentor" goes to @elle-rosewater (Eliot), because I stole most of her words for the count from my own comment section in the BDOR Prologues. We love you, Eliot :3 Can't wait to see you next month.

"Cheerleader" goes to @la-sera, who gave us much encouragement throughout the day. I stole your 19 words from you saying you were excited to read Estelian's work. Hope that's okay, because I really wanted to include you---you provided a lot, even if you didn't write with us this time <3.

@whumpitywhumpitywhumpity (Dowsemaxxer) earns "Spirit-ed Storyboarder" for all of his lovely, informative talk on Spirit and just what makes him so great as a rather underappreciated LU boy.

Two awards next! "Chief Editor" and "Most Student" both go to @unexpectedstormy (Stormy) for faer work on getting. stuff. done. Fae did a steady amount of work, so proud.

"Editor (of Word Count) in Chief" goes to @tashacee (Tash), who, at reporting time, was scrounging up 100 and 200 word bits like spare change while I desperately tried to do math. I love you, never change.

The title of "Specter" goes to @somer-writes (Somer), who logged in very few sprints, but participated with the rest of us and pulled up at the end with a whole 7.5K words and a bunch of fics to post at the end, with a lot of it being Ghost AU! He's amazing.

The award "Better Late than Never" goes to our resident artist and recently turned fic-writer @estelian-01 (Este), who joined only in the last half of the marathon but managed to pull a whole 4K! Pictures might be worth a thousand words, but Este wrote a couple more anyway.

@across-violet-skies (Riv) gets the title "Mover and Shaker (of Blorbos)" for managing to participate and get quite the hefty wordcount only a DAY after moving. They're a trooper, that's for sure.

@anime-obsessed (Vio/Nene) earns the award "Most Old School" for writing with pen and paper for most of the day. Please go rest your wrist after all of that.

The award "Head in the Clouds" goes to my bestie and beloved beta reader @needfantasticstories (Skip), who spent the day listening to music and writing Skyloft drabbles. I am nervous/excited to see if those drabbles turned out fluffy as a Loftwing, or perhaps into something more angsty.

@noorahqar (Qar), my lovely fragile Victorian wife, earns the title "Chatty." You know why. But you were there nearly all of the run time, and so engaging and encouraging throughout---a blessing to us all. And even then, you managed to pull so many words. I'm impressed.

And finally, @rosehipandroots / @rosetintedtears (Rose) receives the titles "ndskanefnre" (self chosen) and "Birthday Santa." The first was borne of panic of being asked to choose a title---the second of her relentless effort to get her birthday fics done. Great job.

I'd like to thank everyone that I tagged for participating in the write-a-thon, and thank all of you for helping me draft this post as well. If I messed up any word counts or details or pronouns, you want to request a title/award change, or I missed someone, please DM and let me know! The next Write-a-thon will be held on July 1 from 12am to 12am GMT, and we'll be trying to beat our record. Can't wait to see all of you then!

[museaway]

As requested, here's how I trained myself to wash the dishes pretty much daily.

Dishes and laundry have always felt insurmountable to me. It's probably because they never end. I live alone and I don't have a dishwasher, so I have to do the dishes whether I like it or not. I would much, much rather watch YouTube than do chores, so here's how I get around that.

(It's long so I'll put it behind a cut.)

Disclaimer: What works for me might not work for you. We all have different lives and situations. Take what works for you and leave the rest.

--

Solution #1: Make it low commitment

Sometimes I look at the sink and think, "I have to wash all of these?? It's going to take FOREVER. I'll do it tomorrow."

On those days, I challenge myself to wash dishes for the length of one song. It doesn't matter how many dishes I wash, just that I wash them for as long as the song plays!

Sometimes the song will finish and I'll feel up to washing for just one more. Usually, I end up listening to three or four and clean the whole sink. But if the song ends and I want to go do something else, I'm allowed to.

Try working up to multiple times a day.

Make a playlist with songs that make you feel energized! I use anime OPs because they're loud and fun to sing to.

Be gentle with yourself. If you washed one cup, that's great! That's a clean cup! That's one more clean cup than you had one song ago.

You're taking care of yourself by doing this. Really, it's a great kindness you're doing yourself and your family by cleaning something! You deserve to be taken care of!

This method also works with putting away folded laundry. If you don't want to use music, set a timer. Work for 3 minutes and stop.

--

Solution #2: Gamify it

When I have a little more energy, the goal changes:

"Can I clear the sink before this song ends?"

"Can I wash all of these within three songs?"

"Can I wash this cup before the chorus?"

This technique really motivates me. I tend to focus and work efficiently since I'm trying to beat the song. If I don't make it, I usually give myself another song or two. It's rare that I stop until the sink is clear.

Whether you beat the song or not, you've washed a bunch of stuff, so you win either way!

This technique also works for putting sheets on the bed, dusting, taking the trash out ("can I get back before the song stops??"), etc. Timers can replace music here too.

--

Solution #3: Use a habit tracker

The above solutions got me to stop leaving dishes in the sink for three days, but I was still leaving them overnight. To train myself to wash the dishes every single day, I made it a nightly chore for a solid month.

I used a habit tracker so that I got to check it off every day! I love checklists, so this was terribly satisfying.

I've tried a slew of habit trackers and hate all of them except for this one by TheFor. It's simple, has color coding, supports habit-based goals (like dish washing 7 days a week, or sweeping the deck once a week), and displays an overview so that you can check if you missed any days! Free on the Apple and Play stores. This isn't sponsored; I'm just a fan.

It took a month for my new habit to form, but it did! I'll now go wash the dishes when I see them in the sink, although I still use the first two solutions to keep it from feeling like a chore again.

--

Hand-washing tips:

Dish gloves will save your hands! Get a pair you like

I like a wooden dish brush with a replaceable head

I think it helps to like the scent of your dish soap

Get big, easy-to-clean things out of the way first. They take up a huge amount of room in the sink and make the situation look worse than it really is. Think colanders, cookie sheets, the pot you only boiled water in.

Wash things in categories. For example, I like to wash all of the mugs at once. It seems to go faster that way.

Leave the hardest-to-clean stuff for last so it can soak.

Paring down my mug collection sincerely helped the mug overload. Maybe put spares in a drawer for a while.

Sing while you work

--

Here's my dish washing playlist

[pepexpablito]

okay going based off my previous request smth with a famous reader x hector

like maybe and athlete or like an actress(spider woman actress?)

and just like them having to shoot a promotional video with liek say nike and the bts gets released and everyone is talking bout how hector and reader cant stop giving each other heart eyes :)

It started when hector's manager sent you a DM saying, " hello Ms. y/ln, we wanted to contact you regarding a photoshoot with hector and Nike.", which led you to be in your current situation sitting in a hotel room waiting for hector to finish his game of FIFA so you both could attend the photoshoot. after almost 30 minutes he stood up and put on his coat walking out leaving you behind and not speaking a word to you, "you know the least you can do I talk to me" you say following close behind him "and why would I talk to someone as boring and annoying as you" hector says his head snapping back to look at you, you just start walking faster now leaving him behind while also trying to hide the tears in your eyes. during the photo shoot though hector was staring at you the whole time and blushing HARD after the photo shoot hector had invited the whole team to a bar with drinks on him, and who would say no to free drinks, while there hector was just sitting across from you in the VIP section staring and looking madly in love.

(1 week later)

fans and even haters were shipping you and hector even your only families then during another Nike shoot with hector he was staring and blushing again but you still ignored it and continued, then again he invited the whole team to the bar when you walked in the door you started to dance with everybody until hector walked up to you and said he was to drunk to drive and needed a ride home.in the car hector is just staring at you while you sit across from him "you look really pretty" he whispers drunk "what was that?" you reply not being able to hear him, "you look really pretty right now" he whispers again, "speak up if you want me to understand you" you say getting annoyed, " you look really pretty right now" he says and you can finally understand him "oh... um thank you" you say. when you both get to the hotel you have to practically carry him to the room were then you lay him down on the bed helping him get into his pajamas, " I just love you soooooo much" hector say, " I... I love you to" you say softly , "will you cuddle me... please" hector says looking at you with puppy eyes "sure" you say laying down behind him spooning him until you couldn't keep your eyes open any longer and ended up falling asleep.

(3 months later)

It started again at a coffee shop near camp nou you and hector were seen sharing a table and laughing together but it wasn't until hector was seen with the bracelet you rarely took off that the fans started to get suspicious of the two, then you posted a photo wearing a barca jersey a few days later but didn't show the back, and the fans started going crazy asking all sorts of questions like " whose name is on the back!" and " are you and hector dating!?" .About a month later, there were pictures every where at this point of hector and you, you and hector's mom, hector and you're brother, aswell as hector being seen in the back of a photo from one of you're family events and you're reflection taking a photo of hector's mom and some of her friends, at this point fans were begging for them to announce that they are official up to the point that hector posted a picture of you and himself kissing on the beach and dedicated a winning goal to you.

(I'm thinking about starting a series for hector or Gavi but i don't know what it would be about so if you have any ideas feel free to share💕)

( SEND ANY REQUESTS FOR ANY BARCA PLAYER!!! 💗💗💗)

[writingquestionsanswered]

"Probably one of my biggest writing-related takeaways of 2023 was the brain science behind being overwhelmed by writing. So often, we put so much pressure on ourselves to meet goals, and get so frustrated with ourselves when we fail, that we end up making writing time something that fills us with anxiety. So our brains perceive that activity as a threat, which makes us want to avoid it."

I'd love to learn more about this cause it's my biggest problem when it comes to writing. The avoidance of the task, but it also manifests also as feeling overwhelmed by writing a long story/novel.

Some Brain Science Behind Avoidance

I encountered this idea of fear-based avoidance in a few workshops and summits over the past year, but I have to give a shout out to author/coach Monica Hay whose "Overcome Writer's Resistance Bootcamp" explained it the best. I can't find my notes so I'm going from memory here, but the gist of it was that our brains are hard-wired to avoid things that make us feel fearful or uneasy. This is an evolutionary throwback to when those instinctual feelings helped us steer clear from danger. As I remember Monica putting it, "Don't go that way, there are cheetahs there that will eat us."

So... how does this apply to avoidance of writing?

When we heap unreasonable goals and deadlines on ourselves, and berate ourselves for falling short of them, we inadvertently turn writing into a stressful activity. So, when we sit down to write, our brain picks up on that stress and says, "Don't go that way, cheetahs will eat us," and your gut instinct tells you to avoid this stressful activity at all cost. And then it becomes kind of a vicious cycle because you feel even worse because you're avoiding writing, and that makes you feel more overwhelmed and makes writing more stressful, and well... you can see the problem.

The solution? De-stress the writing process for yourself as much as you can. Start by de-stressing yourself when you sit down to write... take a relaxing walk first, do some yoga or a meditation exercise, or try some grounding techniques. See if you can do some things to make your writing environment more relaxing and inviting. Put on some soft lighting and relaxing music, use your favorite method to lightly scent the air, grab your favorite drink and snack. Then, just try to move the needle forward in any way you can.

My suggestions: try editing a sentence. Maybe see if you can add a paragraph or two. Don't think about deadlines or word count or what others are doing. Just focus on adding something to the page, even if it's changing a word or adding a sentence. Don't push yourself. Congratulate yourself on whatever progress you made. Ultimately, if you do this every day, the stress should start to melt away and writing becomes an activity that your brain no longer tells you to avoid.

Another suggestion: try to avoid setting arbitrary deadlines, or if you have to set a deadline, take a look at your schedule/calendar and be really honest about how much time you actually have to write. Because so often what happens is we say, "I want to finish this 80k word draft in eight weeks..." but the reality is we're not going to write all 56 of those days. In fact, when we take an honest look...

-3 days per week for days with both class and work = 32 days -5 days for a cruise next month = 27 days -1 day for bestie's birthday celebration = 26 days -Sundays because that's hiking day = 18 days Suddenly, that eight weeks is actually only 18 days... and that's not even taking account things that come up unexpectedly. But, let's say you do get to write all 18 days, and let's say you know you can commit three hours a day to writing but you'll probably take two ten-minute brakes... so 48 hours worth of writing. But here's the problem: you know on a good hour, you're probably only going to write 1200 words. And guess what: 1200 words per hour over 48 hours is only 57,600 words... far short of your 80k goal... and that's assuming you get to write all 18 days and hit 1200 words every hour you write. In other words... you've set yourself an impossible deadline, and when you fall short of it without understanding why, you're going to be disappointed in yourself. And that's why it's so, so important to be honest about the time you have and how much you can reasonably accomplish within that time. Also: just don't be hard on yourself. It will never make you write faster, more, or better.

I hope you can use this to overcome your own resistance to writing! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[sunsetkerr]

SAY HI! | s.kerr

summary: sam shows off your son to the crowd after her game against TPE.

pairing: mum!sam kerr x fem!reader

notes: something nice and short for my love @iinsertblognamee before I fall sleep, based on this image!

THREE GAMES, FIVE GOALS, one step closer to qualifying. sam has been having the time of her life in perth over this last week and a half. she finally got to come home to her family and friends again, and win three games of football; all whilst having her wife and son right there behind her. 

henry was only little, born just five months ago. he was the best thing to ever happen to you both and sam was absolutely obsessed with him. he had been to his first game at just a few weeks old, he got to watch his mum play in the matilda’s 0-1 victory against france. there was no doubt that henry would grow up to be football obsessed.

the girls finished their last game against chinese taipei, 0-3 with sam putting away a goal. sam tried to hold her patience as she signed everything and anything for fans against the barriers, but she really only wanted to get to the end of this particular section. "hey there little man!" because at the end of this section, was her son.

"did you miss me? did you see mum's goal?" sam reached out to take henry from one of her friend’s jasmine. she had been watching henry for sam all night long, her wife home too sick to leave the house. so, to give her the night off, sam brought henry to the game to sit with jas. 

"you should be asleep right now" sam propped henry up under her arm, bouncing him slightly. henry gave his mum a tired smile, but his eyes were still open wide because of the bright stadium lights. "you're so cheeky" sam rubbed his cheek. 

she noticed as the crowd began to film her interaction between her and her son; and sam loved to show off, especially her son. sam smirked a little before lifting her son up to the crowd, shouting ‘simba’ out to jas who was also filming the pair. as sam brought henry back to her chest, she noticed the studio’s camera just next to her, broading casting her and her son. sam knew you would be watching at home, tucked away in your bed.

"look, wave to the camera" sam reached down and gently grabbed henry’s little hand. "mummy's watching at home" she waved it up and down, smiling at her son. "say hi!" she whispered to henry, who was only fussing in response. sam chuckled as she realised him getting fussy with the situation he was in.

"aw, henry!" sam turned as she heard alanna’s voice. she had a big smile on her face as she came over and grabbed his little hand with hers. "hi baby" she cooed. 

"it's aunty lani!" sam chuckled, but henry wasn’t having it. sam watched as he jutted out his lip and began to cry. 

"awh, buddy" alanna pouted, “i’m sorry” 

"mm, you're so tired" sam brought henry down slowly so he was resting his head on her chest. "come on little mate" sam kissed his head a few times before turning back to the crowd, looking for jas. "i'm gonna take him into the rooms!" sam called out to her.

she was met with a thumbs up from jas before walking back through the tunnel with alanna, tameka following behind.

she cheers from the crowds only echoed through the tunnel. henry continued to fuss, only crying harder. "shh.. i know it's loud isn't it?" sam cooed, holding her hand over henry’s ear. "shh" she shushed him again as he wailed louder, "oh, buddy" sam pouted. sam entered the change rooms and tried her best to bounce henry back into a state of comfort in her arms. "you're so tired, it's too late for you" sam nodded softly, patting his back rhythmically. 

after a while, jas was let into the change rooms and offered to take henry from sam. "do you want to grab a quick shower before you head home?".

“nah,” sam shook her head, not handing over her son. “he’s happy, i think i’ll just shower at home. it’s really late, i don’t wanna keep him out much longer” sam explained, looking down to notice her son drifting to sleep as he listened to his mother’s heartbeat. 

“i’m gonna take my boy home and go see my wife” she smiled, looking down at her little world. 

[danhengist]

—𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄. ❀

warnings - Angst, arguements. mentions of abandonment, cursing. Angst breakup. Nagi written in a bad light. Angst to fluff. Happy ending (for you). Just a warning, this fic is kinda lengthy.

·  · ·  · ➪ Nagi seishiro has to choose between an eternity with you or a small scrap of Fame. He makes a choice and Reo helps him live to regret it.

“Your kidding.” You asked, aghastly. You sat there at your dinner table with your fiance. “Your fucking kidding, right Nagi??” you repeated again when you don't get a response from Seishiro. Nothing but a unimpressed look, his lips curled into a thin frown that awfully matched his low-lidded eyes.

You can't help but let out a pitiful laugh when you come to the realization that he wasn't kidding. “So, that's it? we've been together for 3 years, and 5 months and you're going to throw all of that out of the window? For a fucking sport.” You sneered at him, your words contaminated with such pure anger that you could be considered hostile.

“i thought you'd be happy for me.” Nagi replied, stolidly. He sat his fork down and positioned his attention back onto you. “Fuckin' hell. Happy for you??” You grimace at his statement. “My supposed-to-be future husband is leaving me. What about that should i be fucking happy about??” The volume of your voice had amplified at the sheer audacity Nagi had.

“You said that if i decided to chase my goals then you'd support me.” He scoffed, narrowing his eyes and Crinkling his eyebrows at your melodramatic outburst.

“Because i didn't think that you'd leave me behind to chase after them! Do you even hear yourself?? Why are you so fucking nonchalant about this?” You asked. Nagi heard the way your words wavered shakily, he could hear the fear and heartbreak setting in.

You saw his decision as Cold-hearted and selfish, the fact he didn't even show a sense of sadness about the whole situation is what hurt you the most.

But Nagi wasn't apathetic, not nearly. No, he was simply stoic. He saw how his sudden decision had truly hurt you, and he did feel guilt and remorse for it because stoicism wasn't feeling guiltless. it was feeling guilt and being able to hide it, a strong sense of self-control. “Because I'm certain that this is the right choice. You know that i love you. i love you so much but i can't balance out my career and our marriage...” He affirmed, confidently.

You didn't respond. You felt your words get caught in the back of your throat, Tears forming on your lower lashes. You couldn't believe your ears, you couldn't believe nor imagine the day that your future husband would choose his career over you.

The realization of this wasn't bearable. You sat there in silence and simply stared at your fiance. He's not oblivious, he can see the pain and heartache reflecting in your eyes. "Nagi..." You desperately rasped as you felt the urge to sob loudly, clawing at your throat.

an infinity of silence had passed before you snapped out of your thoughts when you noticed Nagi stand from his chair. You spared him any questions on his intentions when he rounded the table and moved towards you.

“Stand up.” were his only words. You wiped your tears away with your sleeves and stood as he'd asked, the last thing you expected him to do was pull you into a warm embrace. tightly hugging you close to him. “I'm sorry, baby.” he murmured, planting a soft kiss onto the shell of your ear. “I'd never intentionally hurt you, but i don't think i can keep struggling to balance out two things i love.” He said, softly.

You didn't bother to hug him back. Fuck, he didn't deserve any responding affection. "So, when?" you asked, pushing him away from you. an act of rightful bitterness, he just blatantly told you he was choosing his friends and career over you.

You had ever right to withhold yourself. "When do you plan on leaving?" You questioned him, irritably.

"Saturday of next week. if i manage to move out soon enough, isagi said that I'd be able to move in with him." Although he was a bit hurt by your denial of his loving gesture, he partly knew you had the right away.

"i know your hurt but if it's alright could we finish dinner? it might be one of the last memories I'll have with you." Nagi justified, placing himself back into the chair he sat at a few moments ago.

You considered it. You considering that maybe if you did everything he asked, said everything he wanted to hear that maybe he'd change his mind. a grim and painful sense of contempt shot through your body at that ridiculous thought. it coursed through your veins like cocaine.

You couldn't respond― no, wouldn't respond sensibly. You refused to be nice to the same man who thought that kicking a ball around was more important than you.

"Fuck you, Nagi." You sneer angrily. "if you think that we can just go back to eating as if nothing happened then you thought wrong."

Nagi didn't respond, neither did he try and stop you from leaving the kitchen. He sat there and ate alone that night, evaluating if his decision was a good one but no matter how logically he attempted to look at it, his heart longed for the feeling of freedom.

The raw rush of adrenaline that came from running across that huge field, the feeling of the entire stadium looking at him and calling out his name as if he were they're saviour. it was then that as he put his plate into the sink, he felt his mind give him the ambivalent consolation that leaving you will be a brave and righteous thing.

Nagi slept on the couch that night, and going forward. He didn't necessarily want too but after he broke the news to you, he never felt as welcomed into the bedroom as he used too. He'd try to hold you, kiss you and yet you never indulged in the romantic gestures like you did before. You'd ignore him, or push him away. You gave him nothing as punishment for taking away everything.

Everyday felt like a heartache. your relationship managed to dull out within a few days. it felt like a married old couple who were waiting for they're divorce to settle. But nothing prepared you for the day to actually come.

You sat there on the couch, watching Nagi handle his taped boxes, a contempt frown plastered on your face. it'd only been two weeks so logically you weren't over this sudden change. “Here, take this one. I'll carry the other two.” you heard Nagi's voice echo from the kitchen. oh, that's right. Reo is here.

Mikage reo, Your ex-fiance's best friend. It made sense that out of everyone, reo was the first person he'd call to help. Although this was such a grim and glum moment in your life, the random exchanges of conversation reo would gift you while grabbing boxes had admittedly dampened the anguish and bitterly feeling that settled in the pit of your heart.

Sometimes, you couldn't help the slight twitch of your lips when he'd crack a pitiful joke. But it was never enough to actually make you smile, and why would it? this was one of the worst days of your life. But you deeply appreciated the attempts reo had made.

“Stay here, I'm gonna take these over to isagi's house.” Seishiro exclaimed, dryly. He grabbed the car keys from off the counter. “Then I'll come back for the last four.” he informed, looking at reo who had taken a seat next to you on the couch. “alright, I'll sit here and rest for a bit!” Reo stretched, carefully not to accidentally hit you.

Nagi hummed in recognition before leaving. Only after a few minutes of Nagi's absence did reo finally stir up the courage to speak too you. “Hey.” He coo'd, successfully catching your attention. Your eyes meeting Reo's sympathetic purple ones.

“I'm sorry about what my friend is putting you through. Man, i know how painful it must be.” He sympathized, turning his body to face you. You couldn't help but hear him out. “Do you?” You asked, piqued.

“Yeah.” Reo replied, diffended. “When we were teenagers, Nagi left my side to be on isagi's side.” Despite the friendly smile on his face, there was a sort of bitterness deep in the crevices of his words. Almost as if he wasn't entirely over the whole ordeal.

“He wanted to win so badly. He didn't even hesitate to walk away.” Reo sighed. “He probably doesn't think about it as much as i still do but ...” He hadn't even realized that the smile he wore a second ago had formed into a conflicted frown. “I'm sorry that happened to you, Reo.” You spoke up, pulling him from his thoughts.

“if that's the case, then I'm sure you can imagine how awful it feels for me now.” You muttered, looking at the ground. “Yeah, i can.” Mikage replied.

There was a deep silence. The type where you could tell both parties that built the conversation were equally in deep thought.

“Do you think ... maybe i did something?” You sudden asked, to the man's dismay. “Huh?” He responded, curiously. “Could you elaborate?” he asked. Reo wasn't an idiot, he knew what you meant and this feeling of self-doubt that you gave off had felt all-too-familiar.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “i mean like, do you think i might've did something that Nagi didn't seem to like and that's what made him choose Soccer?” You quizzed, nervously.

“i can't answer that.” He admitted, but immediately regret it when he saw your crestfallen expression. “He told me about his plan on divorcing you, earlier on. I tried to convince him not to do it.” He added.

You hadn't replied to Reo, which gave him the space to continue talking. “y'know...” he cleared his throat. There was a long moment of comforting silence before Reo spoke again.

“I'd never abandon you the way he did." those words reeled you in, you look over at Reo with a intrigued look. “What kind of person leaves the love of their life for a sport.” he muttered. His words left a strange sensation in your chest, you couldn't quite pick at what it was, but you felt like you knew what he was about to say.

in any other case, if you and Seishiro were still fiances then you would've stopped Reo in his tracks.

“What are you saying?” You questioned in a curious tone. You knew what he was saying, but you wanted to hear Reo confirm it by himself. “I'm saying that Nagi is making such a huge mistake.” He replied, frustrated.

“he's my best friend. i want nothing but for him to be happy. But the fact being happy means discarding someone so...” Reo paused for a moment.

“So?” You encouraged him to finish his sentence. “So ..Perfect.” Reo concluded. You couldn't withhold the feeling of your heart fluttering in your chest at his words. The way he spoke to you with such delicacy and warmth. You couldn't think of him as anything but sincere.

“Perfect?” You repeated, in disbelief.

“Perfect.” He'd confirmed, inching closer to you. out of respect, he waited a moment and glanced at your reaction. once he saw no hints of uncomfort, he proceeded to keep speaking.

“I know your probably too shocked to reply, I mean I wouldn't blame you. Your ex-fiance's best friend is confessing to you.” Reo couldn't suppress his Nervous laughter when he saw your surprised expression. “But I really do think your perfect.” He sighed.

“And ... How long did you think I was perfect..?” You asked, you couldn't help the small dosage of curiosity that you felt.

“Since I'd first met you.” he replied. “i didn't say anything at first because you and Nagi were so in love.” Reo said. “I—I wanted to tell you, but I didn't wanna hurt Nagi or make our relationship weird because I attempted to come onto his lover.” He justified. His excuse made sense, it would've been wrong if he tried to convince you to date him when you and Nagi were still together.

“But if I would've know that he'd end up hurting you.” he halted his sentence, his deep lavender gaze connecting with yours. “i would've stolen you a long time ago.” Mikage affirmed emphatically.

You could feel you heart pounding at his words, strongly. The thought that all this time, for the past 3 years, Reo was madly lovesick for you. Something about knowing this made you feel delighted.

After a considerable amount of silence, time to think on what your response to all of this abrupt and unforseen information would be, and within a moment you knew what you wanted to say.

“You told me that Nagi and me being in a relationship stopped you, right?" You asked, Your question being answered when Reo nodded solemnly. “But— .. what's stopping you now?” You asked, boldly. Your words admittedly took him by surprise, never did he expect that you'd accept his confession, much less, encourage it.

He took in your question, giving it a moment of thought, he realized you were right. Nagi had practically thrown you aside for the sake of his career. Which means you weren't seeing anyone, and that realization gave him a substantially Marvelous sense of Buoyancy.

“Absolutely nothing.” He replied, sanguinely.

Subsequently after estimated 35 minutes, Nagi had returned to collect his last few boxes. Blissfully unaware of your imminently established relationship with Reo. The way Reo was able to function so casually around Nagi was almost astonishing. smiling as if he didn't just propose a new relationship with his childhood friend's ex-fiance.

That month was full of unexpected events, things that you'd never seen coming. Although you were still faintly offended and hurt by Nagi's decision, something about being with Reo substantially dulled that trivial feeling of abandonment.

You never wanted to compare anyone, but you couldn't help but notice that Reo was furthermore blithesome and open-minded than Nagi when it came to your relationship. Supposedly it was because he didn't have a trait of laziness like Nagi did, or maybe it was due to his constant consideration for your feelings and how he'd consult you before making any big or rash decisions.

Whatever it was, it kept you chained to him. During Your Drive to go and pick Reo up, you came to a sudden comprehension that you were possibly indulging in this relationship with Reo far more than you were with the one you had with Nagi. You were happier.

You and Reo agreed to keep your relationship hidden from Nagi for a lengthy amount of time. Until the residues of the dissolving love he had for you were flushed from his mind. Of course, when it was revealed years later, it was a slip-up on Reo's part.

After the ending of a soccer match against a competing team, Reo and Nagi's Team had managed to win, almost effortlessly. No matter how accustomed Reo was too winning, managing to do it again always gave him an ardent feeling of exhilaration.

So when you were standing outside the arena, waiting for him to come out so you could take him home, he managed to greet you in such a beauteous way. a energetic kiss and a hug, you couldn't do anything but laugh at his victorious grin. “I'm assuming you won, again. Tell me about it.” You invited sweetly. Your common interest in his day was like being wrapped in saccharine.

So enraptured with your daily reunion with Reo, you both hadn't noticed Nagi watching with aghast, while his other teammates passed him, leaving. He'd seen the way Reo almost knocked you over with how energetic he was to see you, and how tightly he held your waist. How close you were.

Something about this scene of the two of you being so affection with each other triggered a melancholic jealousy, and for a moment he'd planned to say something, until he felt his mind go back to the day he'd stepped away from you for his career.

Nagi knew that was his moral compass reminding him that Reo dating you was completely fair, especially since you and Nagi were officially divorced.

it wasn't like you were cheating on him, but even then as he watching Reo babble on about how he dominated the field, and watched how you lovingly took in ever single detail Reo spouted, he couldn't help but begin to regret his decision.

Attempting to get you back was out of the question, It would involve betraying Reo. He'd already hurt Reo before in the past, and he promised himself he wouldn't do it again.

So all he could do was sit on the sidelines and watch Mikage love you in a way he wouldn't.

Xyhoo·  ·  ·  · ✦ ― do not copy, modify, sell, or repost any of my work on any platform, or claim it as yours. 02/19/2023. ― 11:23 AM.

Tags: @shoyoist @the-pyro-archon @suchatwistedaddiction @kittykittycore

[uhitsum]

Gaining Update

Hey chubbies! I've got a few big updates, so i've decided to condense them into a pinned post.

1. Gaining Goals

A few weeks ago, I detailed my plan to lose some weight over Spring and Summer. After further reflection, and talking it over with a friend, I've decided against this plan. I don't want to get into specifics, but my motives behind it weren't coming from a good place.

Over the next few months, I instead intend to take gaining at a slower pace. I'm very busy in Spring and Summer, and because I'm saving up to move out to college in Fall, I won't be able to spend much money on food for a while.

2. Donations / Sponsored Stuffings

Since I won't be able to affore much food, I've decided to open a Paypal account for donations. If you want to stuff me up, feel free to send some money to paypal.me/sillybearcreature! Feel free to attach a request to your donation, though please understand that I will only do what I'm comfortable with.

Opening donations is my happy compromise to the idea of something like Patreon. I want to keep my blog free, but if you'd like to support me in my journey, you now have a way to do so!

3. Community Interaction

Going forward, I would like to allow y'all to have more involvement on this page. Some of you have messaged me, and I'm always grateful for the time and attention you offer me, it's made this blog and gaining journey so much more fun! My askbox is also open, for anyone who has any questions, suggestions, or requests.

I've also been working on some more long-form blog posts, focused on discussions and sharing my thoughts. While this is slightly different from the flow of belly pics and calories, I hope they'll find an audience here nonetheless.

[drkmgs]

Promise, I'll be back FINAL

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Part 3 of Homecoming and Promise, I'll be back.

Tbh, I wanted to write it longer but with the limited time I have, because of work... this would do for now....

When one of the survived officers showed up on Jenna's doorstep to hand your final letter, she completely broke down. Only with the help of her mother was she able to stand up and settle down on the couch. Her mother engulfed her into an embrace to comfort her mourning child.

"You don't have to read it now, but one day, you would like to know what Y/N's last words are for you. Once you read it, you will feel better and move on. Continue to live for you and for Y/N. I'm sure that's what they'll ever want." Jenna held onto the letter very tight and silently sob against her mom's shoulder.

In the following months, Jenna purposely fully booked her schedule. It has nothing to do with a certain letter, waiting for her to rip open and read it. She knew she would eventually have to open it. She knew as soon as she opened it, that would be your final goodbye to her. That she would never see you again. She would have to accept that you are gone and would never come back to her.

One day, she paces in her trailer, nibbling on her thumb, and keeps glancing at the letter that was poking out of her bag. This is the hardest decision-making that she'd ever had.

Finally, she took the letter and ripped it open.

Hello my love,

I'm sorry. I couldn't keep the promise. I only had an hour to write you this letter. I had so much in my head that I wanted to write down for you to read, and now that I'm actually doing it, I can't remember any of it.

Just remember I love you, and I always will. I'll be waiting for you. Keep achieving your goals for me and you.

yours only,

Y/N Ashford.

That's it. After several months, she accepted that you were gone. The following days are filled with grief and moving on. Fans have noticed her change of mood, and a lot of reporters have asked about you, but she managed to avoid all the questions. Because of that, a lot of people thought Jenna was just going through a breakup.

Jenna was busy filming her next movie when someone in the set let out a loud gasp, which ruined the take. Jenna watched the staff who ruined the take show something on her phone, and then everyone started to take out their phones. Jenna was confused. She only got enlightened when one of the staff showed their phone.

It's a live broadcast from looks like an abandoned building, and two people in military uniform are tied up almost slouching down with black cloths covering their heads. Two men standing behind them with guns. It's clear that they were or are being tortured. Then, a man with a skul mask appeared in front of the camera, talking in a different language, which translates to:

"Give us 10 billion US dollars, and these american soldiers are going home alive."

Then, the two men took off the black fabric from the soldiers. Jenna gasped and almost everyone at the studio, too. Captain Y/N Ashford and their sergeant are being tortured for money by this group of people.

Jenna's tears are pouring nonstop, and she's also shaking. The man with the skul mask kept talking in a different language when suddenly a bullet striked him in the head and dropped on the floor. There were bullets fired from all the directions, and the live stream ended.

The studio fell in silence as everyone was still in shock or silently crying. The director decided to stop the filming and wrapped up for today, as they were cleaning the studio, they heard a helicopter approaching. Everyone exited the studio just to see a military helicopter landing in the wide open space in front of the studio.

You climbed out of the vehicle with fresh tended wounds. Among the crowds, a small figure came out of the studio running with full speed into your arms. She almost knocked you off your feet, but you managed to keep your balance and embraced her tight.

"I don't ever leave me like that!" Jenna says and buries her head onto your chest.

"Didn't I promise you that I'll come back?" You asked, moving an inch away to see her face.

She nodded, looking straight into your eyes.

"I kept my promise." You say and lean in to kiss her on her lips.

The crowds were crying, applauding, and whistling.

[THE END]