#for those of you who are new you can expect the next few pages to take a bit longer than usual since logistics is not my strong suit
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woso-dreamzzz · 1 day ago
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If You Were My Little Girl II
Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader
Summary: Things are looking up
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Alexia watches from the stands.
They're mostly empty, like almost all Barcelona B matches.
Women's football has only really started picking up steam recently but only at the top flight. The lower level leagues are still having a bit of a popularity issue.
But Alexia, for once, finds that she doesn't mind.
Because it means she can sit practically alone in the stands as she watches the home match.
A notepad sits on her lap, a pen tapping against the pages thoughtfully as she watches.
Barcelona B are good and Alexia has never expected anything different. She's seen the system at work many times as La Masia churns out players like Aitana and Pina and Jana, and more recently Vicky and Martina.
There's a reason so many clubs wants La Masia products.
They're all good players but even now, Alexia can tell a great player when she sees one.
You rise up among the crowd in the box and slam the ball into the goal, the net rippling with the force of the shot.
The best part, Alexia thinks, is that you didn't even need a moment to control the ball, hitting it in on the volley and grinning as your teammates practically dogpile you.
A hattrick in ten minutes is impressive in any league and Alexia makes another note in her notebook, humming softly to herself.
She rises out of her seat at the end of the match, disappearing into the building and out the doors.
It takes another half an hour for you to appear again, hair damp and an old crew neck sweater that Alexia's pretty sure is Alba's being tugged over your head.
You slip into the passenger seat, throwing your bag into the backseat and Alexia pulls your head down to press a kiss against the side of it.
You smile shyly at her as she offers up the fries she'd bought for a job well done.
"You did good, kid," She says," Very impressive."
"Yeah?"
"Yes. But I think we're going to work on evading slide tackles next," Alexia says as she drives off," We're trying to keep those ankles of yours intact, alright? I'm going to need them this season."
You roll your eyes and Alexia clicks her tongue.
"Don't roll your eyes at me," She says," I've got a good feeling about that meeting later in the week. A great feeling, actually. You should have one too."
"I'm managing expectations."
Alexia looks at you fondly. "Well, we'll see which one of us is right in a few days."
She lets you choose the music in the car, like she always does when you've scored a goal and you pull up to the apartment a lot quicker than you want to seeing as you're in the middle of singing along to your favourite song but, still, you drag yourself out of the car and up the stairs.
"How was the match?" Olga asks as she greets Alexia with a kiss on the lips.
"She did very well," Alexia brags," A hattrick within the first ten minutes and another goal in injury time."
"Exciting," Olga says indulgently as Alexia grins, already giving her running commentary of everything that happened during the match.
You escape though, hurrying to raid the cupboards before Alexia finally comes to her senses and tries to stop you 'spoiling' your dinner.
You don't know if there's any way to thank Alexia for what she's done for you.
Just three months ago, you were convinced that you were going to quit. You had no passion for the game, no hope of what your future was going to be but now all of that had changed.
You had direction. You had a manager. You had new boots and a place to live that wasn't a group home and support and love and everything seemed to be coming together for you.
A toe pokes you in the leg.
"Move."
"Alexia says that if you're trying to nap on her sofa again then I don't have to move," You tell Alba, who huffs and pokes you with her toe again," She also says that you have your own apartment and should stop mooching of us."
"But Olga's a better cook than me," Alba complains and you roll your eyes.
"Aren't you an adult? Even I can cook."
"Yeah but it's not like you could mooch off your sist-"
Alba falls silent quickly and you pretend to not notice what she was going to say for both hers and your own sakes.
The topic of your sister is kind of off limits when you're in the room. It's not completely banned because Alexia's still Jenni's national teammate but she's not really spoken about if you're in the room.
Alba's face flashes with terror for a moment so you pretend you don't notice her slip up ever though it sends a bolt of lightning into your stomach, a deep pit forming there.
It works for the most part, everyone in the house pretending Jenni isn't who she is to you, pretending that she's just Alexia's teammate and not her friend and ex, pretending that Alexia fostering you isn't her walking on a tight rope because Jenni doesn't know.
All Jenni knows is that you didn't quit when she told you to.
Jenni doesn't know that you live with Alexia. Jenni doesn't know anything. You doubt she even thinks about you when she's got a life far away in Mexico.
She lives there, far away from you and your life here in Barcelona.
She lives there and her presence is hardly ever mentioned around you.
Life is good at Alexia and Olga's house. Life is even good at training, though you could do without the smug little smirk Alexia has on her face when she picks you up.
"You already knew!" You accuse her, waving a finger in her face.
"Knew?" She asks, lips curl up in what can only be described as pure smugness," Knew what?"
"Right, who told you? Go on. Who was it?"
Alexia grins. "You do realise I am the captain? Any time they're looking to bring someone in, they ask me my opinion."
You roll your eyes. "Yeah and I'm sure you gave it."
"You're a good player. A great player," Alexia says," All I did was tell them what they already know."
You look down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. You want to be mad at her, to yell at her for keeping this from you. Maybe even yell at her for promising to the staff something you're not but you know she hasn't done that.
If she thought you weren't ready, she would have told them that.
But Alexia didn't. She didn't tell them to let you have a bit more time with the B team. She didn't tell them that you don't quite have what it takes.
"Thanks."
Alexia smiles at you as she drives home, a comfortable silence enveloping you both until your hand is on the door handle.
You stop.
"When I open this door, there's going to be a party, isn't there?"
"I may have told Olga...who told Mami...who told Alba...who told the rest of the family..."
"Is that a yes?"
"Possibly..."
"And there's no getting out of this?"
Alexia ruffles your hair, a soft kiss being pressed to the side of your head. "They're here to celebrate you."
You suck in a breath, just ready to turn the handle when the sound of the lift doors opening chimes down the corridor.
Both you and Alexia turn your heads towards.
It's just a fleeting second.
Just a moment.
But your good mood plummets as the door opens.
Alexia's hand tightens on your shoulder, pushing you slightly behind her and putting herself between you and the elevator.
Between you and Jenni.
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runawaycatwalker · 1 year ago
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Part 23. Contracted Liberation
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Description below the cut
Gabriel bangs his fists against the wall.
Gabriel: Nothing.  No sign of Adrien.  No leads.  And my arsenal of tools is completely ineffective.  My thumb on the mayor to control the police's search?  Marketing initiatives backed by a global brand?  The powers of the most feared supervillain in the world?  All useless!  And just to twist the knife, my akumas have started dying before they can evilize anyone!
Nathalie interlaces her fingers and looks away, in thought.
Nathalie (internally): It sounds like Catwalker has been using his Cataclysm preemptively.  Best not to point that out to Gabriel right now, though.  We shouldn't target Catwalker so soon after my truce with him and Ladybug.  Even if the heroes don't know how to contact Adrien, remaining cordial with them may open doors later on.
Nathalie points outward.
Nathalie (aloud): It's possible that the police who have been investigating Adrien's disappearance have been nearby often enough that they're shooting akumas on sight.  Perhaps you should consider going back to akumatizing those without any connection to Adrien?
Closeup of Gabriel gnashing his teeth.
Gabriel: Unacceptable!  I must find my son!
As Gabriel continues to bash against the wall, Nathalie comes up behind him.
Nathalie: If Adrien has any sort of agency right now, he might see all the akumas targeting him as a reason to stay in hiding.  Let up on that and he might consider Paris safe enough to come home.
Gabriel flings out his arm dramatically as a vein pulses in his forehead.
Gabriel: And if it wasn’t his choice?  Stopping my pursuit for even a moment could result in him slipping through my fingers permanently!  I will only stop using my akumas to search for my son when he is back under my roof where he belongs!
Nathalie puts her cellphone up to her ear.
Nathalie: Very well.  I'll make some calls.  If you need an akuma who is upset about Adrien, we can make one...
Nathalie (internally): One who will keep you busy until I figure out what to do next.
Cut to Kagami seated on the pink cushions in the ditch that comprises the seating area of Gabriel’s atelier.  She folds her hands over her lap on top of her notebook.
Nathalie: Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, Kagami.
Kagami: You asked my mother to send me here.  How could I refuse?  I assume this is about Adrien?
Nathalie: It is.
Kagami: I suppose you want to involve me in a publicity stunt for your 'Find Adrien' campaign?  Is the 'kidnapping' story you fed the press no longer working?
Nathalie: This has nothing to do with marketing, I assure you.
Nathalie sits on the other side of the seating area and reads off something from her tablet.
Nathalie: Our 'Find Adrien' inbox received a peculiar anonymous tip: 'You have security cameras, go check the footage!'  We did.  Our security cameras caught nothing.  Just Adrien entering his room after he returned from his fencing lesson.  Nothing else.
Closeup of Nathalie’s face, her eyebrows accusatory.
Nathalie: It's strange that we acquired those security cameras from Tsurugi Industries, isn't it?
Nathalie puts down her tablet on the seat beside her.  Kagami folds her arms.  On the center block between Nathalie and Kagami, an assortment of Find Adrien posters have been placed, including a large billboard design near where Kagami is sitting.
Kagami: You think my mother had something to do with this?
Nathalie: No, Tsurugi-san would have no motive for hacking her product or absconding with Adrien. But you might. You would have been one of the last people to see him.  You had the opportunity to coordinate a plan with him.  Not to mention that you have a history of encouraging Adrien to go behind his father's back.
Kagami: So do a lot of his friends.  Blame them for hacking your cameras, I wasn't involved.  But if I had been asked, I would have helped Adrien flee this place.  He shouldn't have to put up with living by his father's rules anymore.
Kagami folds her arms and grins evilly.
Kagami: Frankly, I'm happy that he finally grew enough of a backbone to actually act.  There's nothing you can do to stop him now.
Cut to the back of the atelier by Emilie’s painting.  The hole for Gabriel’s secret elevator is open, inside of which the head of Shadowmoth is poking out of.  Shadowmoth taps out a message on his cane.
Nathalie (internally): This isn't working.  Kagami's not overwhelmed by emotion, she's just smug.  I'm out of my element here.  I've gotten used to defusing situations before they become a problem, not inflaming them.  Gabriel's far better suited to being a provocateur.  He knows what buttons to push and won't let anyone get in his way for long.  But since he insisted on hiding nearby to sic his akuma on her before anyone can interfere, I get to be the one to ruin someone's day...
Cut to a closeup of Nathalie’s tablet as it beeps with a new text message.
Nathalie (internally): Hmm?  A new message?
Shadomoth (text message): I left some stronger motivation for you in the Find Adrien inbox.  Use it. --🦋
Nathalie (internally): Gabriel, what are you up to now? *sigh* I guess I'll just have to go along with this...
Nathalie holds up her tablet and reads from it.
Nathalie (aloud): Oh my.
Kagami: What now?
Nathalie’s tablet: Banner: FIND ADRIEN.  From: [email protected]. We have Adrien Agreste in our clutches and are going to unalive him and you can't do anything about it!  Muhahahaha!
Nathalie: A ransom message just came through.  They're threatening to kill Adrien.
Kagami: To kill...?
Nathalie passes through the door out of the atelier.
Nathalie: Excuse me, I need to... speak with Mr. Agreste about handling this development.
Nathalie (internally): That should be enough motivation, right?
Cut to a closeup of Kagami opening her notebook, where she has taped a picture of her and Adrien and preserved a dried rose.
Kagami: Adrien didn't choose this?  This whole time I assumed that he ran away, but he really was kidnapped?
Kagami holds the rose in her hand, teary eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted.
Kagami: Whoever took him needs to pay for what they've done!
From the elevator hole, Shadowmoth raises out his hand and unleashes an akuma.
Shadowmoth (internally): Yes!  I can feel her anger now!
Shadowmoth (under his breath): Go, my akuma!
The akuma makes contact with the rose in Kagami’s hand.
Shadowmoth: Hello, Oni-Chan.
Cut to Nathalie eavesdropping from just outside the atelier, looking startled.
Nathalie (internally): Wait, Oni-Chan?  He was supposed to make her Riposte again, not—
Cut back to Kagami as the light mask illuminates her angered face.
Shadowmoth: The boy you so deeply care for is in grave danger.  I'm giving you the power to track down the last person who saw Adrien Agreste.  You will make them powerless to do anything ever again.
Kagami: With pleasure, Shadowmoth.
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fushitoru · 4 months ago
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chapter 1: the debutante a bridgerton!au
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pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader
summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?
warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly
chapter summary ⸺ you begin to get ready for your presentation for your debut this season, and satoru steels himself to find a wife. you don't get the reception you'd wanted from some, and satoru will soon curse himself for letting his tongue loose (6.3k)
a/n tired of keeping this in the vault lol so I’ll just post it even if my perfectionist tendencies are screaming at me. thank you so much to @/sinn-clair for beta reading and lexi (@/ayyy-pee) for helping me brainstorm 💗
next. the aftermath
general masterlist | series masterlist
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Dearest reader,
Another season comes as the ton descends to London yet again from the countryside. Young ladies and their mamas flock to the modiste in an effort to fluff their feathers to find a match.
The Itadoris are by far one of the most prolific families in the upper echelons of society. The sight of all the children at once⸺Miss Itadori, Lord Choso Itadori, and Mister Yuji Itadori⸺is enough to catch the attention of mamas and young suitors alike. Miss Itadori, making her debut this season, has much to be desired. The debutante is a meek and demure girl, but with many talents indeed. The oldest, Lord Itadori, has a quiet countenance that has ladies and mamas on their toes, counting the days until he finally joins the marriage market. Mister Yuji Itadori is quite the opposite; his physical prowess on horseback riding has had quite a few ladies swooning after.
Furthermore, the heir to the Duke of Gojo is a most interesting character.  Although he has not deigned to find a wife during any season yet, This Author has heard whispers that he will be looking for a bride during this one.  
Lady Mei Mei can certainly be expected to be on the prowl, waiting to sink her teeth into the wealthiest….
⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS
“Seriously?” Choso scrunched his nose in displeasure. “Why would ladies want someone who’s quiet? I use it to convey my displeasure, not to be charming.”
On the other hand, the other brother relaxed on the opposite couch, proud. “I knew I looked good on horseback,” Yuji remarked smugly. “You and my dear sister are clearly jealous of how appealing my muscles look while I’m grabbing the reins.”
“Those ladies clearly hadn’t seen you drop yourself in dung when you were younger. Or the face you make when you are so oddly concentrated. As if you just stepped into a chamber pot.”
Before Yuji could come up with a snide remark to his older brother, the two heard an incessant pacing leading up to the doors of the drawing room they sat in. The door slammed opened to reveal their mother⸺Lady Itadori⸺with a hand to her face in clear distress.
Choso and Yuji exchanged glances before Choso calmly set down the single-page newspaper he was reading. “What is the matter, mother?”
Lady Itadori moaned and sat down on a chair raggedly. “Your sister is the matter. I fear the queen will have reviewed every person in London before your sister leaves her room.”
Before Choso could get a word in, Yuji suddenly stood up. “This is a serious matter, mother. After all, she should be punctual to her debut. I will go fetch her.”
“Wait, Yuji!” Choso and Lady Itadori followed Yuji to the grand staircase of the Itadori manor. Hurriedly, they reached the foot of the stairs to see Yuji tilting his head back to take a deep breath.
“SISTER!” Yuji had his palms up to his face, as if to amplify his already booming scream. “YOU! MUST! MAKE! HASTE!” After the quite of bit noise he'd made, he cleared his throat, looking to the side to see his dumbfounded mother and brother, and shrugged. “Well, someone’s got to the job.”
Then, the brothers and their mother look up to see a peek of white and a “Miss, be careful with the hem!” You, at the top of the staircase, grab the front of your ivory dress, with your maids helping you with the train, as you start stepping down the staircase with an irritated frown. “Must you always be such a nuisance, brother?” Traversing down the stairs until your family members were visible, all you saw were dumbfounded and tense expressions. After enduring hours of painting your face and dealing with your maid Nobara’s fussing over your coiffure, you wished for a more fond reaction. Annoyed, you stomped your way past them to the exit, where the carriage was waiting for you four.
“Dear!” your mother exclaimed, rushing to your side and taking your hand as you reached the door. Her eyes, filled with concern, met yours as she nervously asked, “How are you feeling? I know this is a momentous day for you, but remember, you’ve always excelled in your lessons. It’s only natural that you’ll win the queen’s approval, dear.”
“Yes, Mother, of course,” you sighed. “It is just such a hectic day.”
“But you shall dazzle them.” Choso comes behind you, patting your back gently in his reassuring, elderly brother ways. With a proud smile, he says, “The gentlemen are not prepared for your entrance this season.” 
“Indeed! They will be none the wiser to your snark, sister.” You see Yuji coming up on your other side, offering his elbow. You tentatively take it, eyeing him sourly as he continues, “I am simply elated that Mama’s attention will be on you, rather me.”
You reach to smack him on the head, eliciting an "Ow!" from Yuji just as your mother approaches next to him, frowning. "Of course, Yuji. But it won’t be long before I have to chase after you for your tutor’s complaints about your lack of proficiency⸺"
Yuji interjects hastily. "Well! Would you look at the time? The Queen is waiting!" 
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"I'm surprised the gossip pamphlet didn't mention how much of a rake you are," Lord Geto mused, taking a sip of brandy. At his right, Duke Nanami was stoic as always, focusing on the tastes the gin was bringing to his mouth rather than  the two older men beside him.
"I'm severely offended you would even imply such a thing," Mister Satoru Gojo put a hand on his chest, feigning offense. Rather than a gin in his hand, Satoru preferred drinking water lest his mouth spilled something even more notorious than his signature calculative icy blue eyes.
He continued. "Honestly, I don't understand this whole Whistledown business. Some might even say the ton holds her words more in regards than the Holy Bible!"
"You're diverting the matter at hand, Gojo," Nanami took his tired eyes off of his drink to look at Satoru. "As the heir and first son, have your parents not urged you to cease your foolishness? There is a limit to the rakish behavior one can exhibit in your position.”
"Yes," Satoru sighed, "They have. That's precisely why I'm looking for a bride."
There was a silence in which Satoru looked up from his glass to see Kento and Suguru’s mouths agape. "What?"
Suguru leaned closer to Satoru, as if to inspect his countenance unsure if he was jesting or not. "So, is it actually true? You're going to get tied down?"
Nanami wrinkled his nose in disapproval. "Must you say it like that? Marriage isn't imprisonment, you know."
Gojo sighed. "Nanami, Nanami. It's clear that one year that separates us in age has also left a gap in experience." Nanami felt a vein pop as Satoru irritatedly continued in his know-it-all voice. "Marriage is an end. The dead end, in fact. It is when you are abroad in Paris, basking in all the fine entertainment and wooing ladies until you realize you are out of funds. Out of money. Marriage is coming home not to go out and drink, but to a wife that has endless needs of you and children that will have frustrating phases of life. An end to pleasure and an end of all jest."
Kento and Suguru exchanged a glance before Suguru asked, "So why are you looking for a wife?"
Satoru looked dejectedly at them, crossing his arms. "My parents insisted. Said they would freeze my funds and kick me out if I didn't get serious about my future." He continued on his desperate rambling, leaning back in his chair. "I don't understand. Must I have a wife to "get serious" in life? I’m serious about all the fucking mergers and dubious finances my father invests in! Look how well I managed his bets!"
"You know, Satoru, your outlook on marriage is awfully pessimistic," Suguru put down his glass to lean back as well, crossing his arms in seriousness. "Don't you wish for a love match?"
"That sounds ridiculous. Love matches are just a passing fancy young ladies have when reading their ridiculous romance novels."
"Well, of course you think that." Kento deadpanned. "No respectable lady in their right mind would fall for you and your attitude."
"Nanami, you wound me."
Suguru glanced at Satoru with concern. "My dear friend, you are making this harder for yourself than it ought to be."
Satoru groaned. "I came here for jest, not to receive words of so-called wisdom. I assure you both, all is well." He looked at both of his friends. "I do not need to be assured. I simply am looking for a woman fine enough to be my wife to appease my parents and their concerns of continuing on the line and handling the dukedom but for a woman so reserved that she'd respect my wishes and isn't so miserable. Or needy." Satoru shrugged. "I would believe these to be respectable requirements for a wife."
Suguru looked at him with mild displeasure. "It sounds like you are looking for a horse to ride, not a woman you would spend the rest of your life with."
Standing up, Satoru moved behind Kento and Suguru to give them a hearty slap on the back. "Trust me, my dear, dear friends. I will find what I am looking for and drink myself silly for the rest of my life!"
"You don't drink." Kento sighed.
"Never mind, you! Sir, more drinks!" Satoru grinned. "Here's to the bachelor life!"
The three men raised their glasses for the toast. Yet, only one of them contained thin water.
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You restlessly arranged the feathers in your coiffure and adjusted the fabric essentially squeezing the breath out of your lungs to accentuate your bust. The palace waiting room was stuffy as ever as debutantes and their mamas fluttered across the room in an effort to catch the smallest of flaws on their person.
Before the Queen did, that is.
"Your feathers are fine, dear. Take deep breaths for me." Your mother raised her hands, prompting you to take a breath in and out as her hands lowered.
You gave her your practiced smile and curtsy to which your mother laid a hand on the small of your back in both approval and reassurance. With the other, she grabbed your own and rubbed comforting circles in the junction of your index finger and your thumb. "You have always excelled in your lessons, my dear. I could not be prouder of the woman you are becoming." She sniffed, and you smiled in appreciation. "The Queen will love you, I am sure of it."
You laughed. "Mama, that is what all these ladies think."
“But none of these ladies have poured in the determination you have, my dear.” Your mother holds your head gently by the cheeks. “Your character and proficiency⸺I am sure the Queen will see the promising young lady that I am proud to call my daughter.”
You felt a lump in your throat. While you appreciated your mother’s words, you could not help but think of the significance of this day. You almost felt dizzy thinking about messing up in front of the Queen; if you didn't find a suitable match as a result, what would become of you? 
Suddenly, there was some fanfare from the main room. "Now, presenting Miss Itadori and the Right Honourable Lady Itadori." Your heart jumped out of your throat as you heard the call for you and your mother to walk up. 
"Let's go, my dear." With a fond kiss to your temple, your mother led you by the hand to the center of the tall and ornate doors that opened to reveal the Queen and her audience. You couldn't help but notice that your mother's hand held a reassuring, yet tight vice. 
When the doors opened, your vision blurred. Your heartbeat got faster, and all you could register was the stares. What felt like a million pairs of eyes blinking upon you, scanning your coiffure, garments, and carefully painted face. While the gossiping widows and mamas whispered amongst themselves, some gentlemen scanned you up and down in clear assessment of your constitution. A distinct smell of tobacco and vanilla wafted through the air, and you took an imperceptible breath in as you steeled yourself before putting your practiced, signature smile. 
A memory from your childhood flashed before you.
"She is excelling in her studies," your tutor had said, discussing your performance with your mother in the drawing room. You, sitting beside them, had fidgeted nervously with your small hands clasped in your lap, sitting as straight as you could manage.
"What must she do to improve?" your mother inquired, her eyes sharp with concern.
"Madame," your tutor had said, turning his gaze towards you with a knowing look. "Your daughter is quite nearly flawless. She is of my most exceptional students; her obedience and composure are unparalleled, even at such a tender age." He then fixed his eyes back on your mother with an authoritative intensity. "But there is one element that will truly distinguish her as a diamond."
Your mother had leaned forward, abandoning her tea in anticipation. "What is it?"
"Her smile."
As you flash your smile to the room, you could feel the people in the room going silent. Your smile was what helped you focus and keep your eyes on the prize: impressing the queen. Smiling in the most innocent and demure way you could possibly muster, you straighten your posture as you advance towards the queen, your eyes serene and your expression a masterful display of delicate charm.
The stares of the ton were on your back, but all you focused on was the harmony of your countenance. Chin up, you reminded yourself. Everyone in this room is my prey, and I am the predator. 
When you and your mother reached the foot of the Queen's throne, you dipped into the deepest curtsy you had to offer, keeping your eyes on the ground as you minimized your smile to a more polite and respectful one. You stayed there for as long as the Queen was silent.
Then, a rustling of fabric as the room silently gasped. The Queen was stepping towards you, and you felt a gloved hand take your chin. Not daring to breathe or rise from your genuflection by even an inch, you forced your body to stay in position as your face was raised to look at the Queen’s.
Her booming, yet regal, voice echoed throughout the room. “You, my dear. Perfect.” She then addressed the room. “I have found my diamond!”
The declaration sent a wave of murmurs through the gathered crowd. You could feel hundreds of eyes on you as you slowly rose from your curtsy, your heart pounding in your chest. Your eyes instinctively sought your mother’s, who looked at you with pride and a hint of warning.
“Keep smiling, my dear,” she whispers into your ear. “They are staring now, more than ever.”
Your mother was right, upon reflection. There were eyes observing you far more diligently than they had before. In particular, a pair of icy and brilliant blue ones. 
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“Choso, not today.” Your mother sighed. “I am not ignorant of your overprotective tendencies, especially towards your younger sister and brother.”
Choso was fully frowning in displeasure, arms crossed as he observed your mother, Yuji, and yourself board the carriage. “Mother. Sister is the diamond of the season. The men will be after her like hungry vultures!”
“Well, vultures have a tendency to eat freshly decayed carrion. When you get rid of those dark circles and don’t look like dead meat, you can join us.”
Choso protested further, stopping the doorman from closing the carriage door. “But, Mother⸺”
“Yuji, close the door. Your brother will join us when learns to get sleep and not work on those ledgers overnight.” As per your mother’s instructions, Yuji closes the door on him. As the carriage rolls out of your manor and into the London streets, you blow a mocking kiss to your brother, who is now brewing at the doorstep.
“Phew! Good riddance,” Your mother fanned herself. “I need this night with you, alone. God knows how many suitors will be warded off with that horrid glare of his.”
You laughed softly, leaning back against the plush cushions of the carriage. “I suppose it’s a small price to pay for a bit of peace.”
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You and your mother were wrong; your brother should have been there. 
Upon your arrival, you were followed by stares, whispers, and men. Bachelors appeared in droves, eager to engage in conversation, each drawn by your newly anointed title as the diamond of the season. After paying your respects to the Queen, you found yourself swept into a whirlwind of attention, each dance and conversation a testament to the allure your status had brought.
As you navigated the crowd with practiced grace, Yuji, ever the observant and cheeky sibling, leaned in close to you and murmured, “I must say, you’ve outdone yourself. They’re practically circling like hawks. Do you think we’ll need to hire a guard just to keep them at bay?”
You gave him a wry smile, barely concealing your exasperation. “Oh, Yuji, you’re so dramatic. They’re just eager to make their introductions.”
Yuji snickered and nodded towards a particularly earnest-looking gentleman who seemed to be making a concerted effort to catch your attention. “Well, if this is what the season looks like, I might have to prepare myself for a front-row seat to a parade of besotted suitors. Just don’t let them all think you’re here to catch them; we wouldn’t want them getting the wrong idea.”
Your mother, overhearing Yuji’s jest, gave a light laugh and shook her head. “Oh, Yuji, you and your theatrics. Just make sure you’re ready to fend off any advances that come your way.”
“What?” You’ve never seen Yuji’s smile drop so fast. As if on cue, there were mamas and maidens closer to Yuji’s age that were approaching, as if a pack, and he looked at you in panic. “Are they coming towards us? Sister, you’ve got to⸺”
“Mister Itadori,” It appeared it was too late. A pack of young ladies were right next to you, fluttering their fans and lashes and giggling. “Whistledown has praised you quite well in this last issue.”
Help, Yuji mouthed, but you merely winked in response. The young ladies had effectively formed a barrier around you, offering a temporary reprieve from the throng of eager suitors. Sensing an opportunity, you decided to seize the moment and discreetly made your way towards the punch table.  
The cool, refreshing scent of the punch greeted you as you approached, offering a welcome contrast to the bustling, heated atmosphere of the ballroom. You filled a glass with the fruity, aromatic beverage and took a moment to savor the brief solitude.As soon as you took a deep breath in, savoring your newfound freedom, you felt a presence next to you at the punch table. “Miss Itadori.”
Upon turning, you were met with the infallible smirk of Naoya Zen’in. You had indeed heard⸺and read, in Whistledown⸺that his family adopted nontraditional ways of determining the winner of the family inheritance and leadership. While Lord Zen’in wasn’t guaranteed to be the heir, he definitely was one of the top contenders. You assessed him further, taking in his arrogant demeanor as he reached down to give you a kiss on your hand. Rather wet, you thought in disgust.  
But you hid it well, fluttering your lashes up at him. “Mister Zen’in! I am flattered to be acquainted with you today. How do you find today’s ball?”
“Rather well, of course.” He reached to scoop some punch for himself. “I enjoy meeting all the young ladies and dancing with them, of course. Ever in search of my perfect bride.”
You forced an artificial giggle. “Of course. I’m sure all the ladies that have talked to you have been charmed, as am I.”
He swelled, exactly you expected, as you stroked his ego. “But none of these ladies are as valuable as you, my diamond.” To your displeasure, he took a step closer to you, discreetly tracing his finger from your upper arm to where your dance card resided. “May I have your next dance? I have been perfecting my dance skill to the point all my brothers are envious of my prowess!” He barked out a laugh. “In fact, I beat them in horse riding years ago, and…”  
While Naoya kept talking, you merely fluttered your fan over your face in mock interest. You were really starting to mourn your short-founded freedom, wanting a respite from the self obsessed young man. For some reason, you could smell the same distinctive perfume of expensive tobacco and painfully sweet vanilla you had smelled in your presentation, like a warning. Realizing you were drifting off into space with the heady fragrance, you made sure to tune into his ramblings once more.
For some reason⸺that you were growing to find uncomfortable⸺he still had his hand on your dance card. You felt the previously faint aroma growing stronger by the second. “Of course, I am soon to be the heir of the Zen’in name⸺”
A flamboyant and mischievous laugh cut through the air. “Naoya, you amuse me.” To your alarm, a young man steps to the right of you. From what you can see on the side of his face, his head sports brilliant white hair and his eyes are focused on the bachelor in front of you, who is now displeased and openly glaring at the man beside you.
“Gojo, I⸺”
“Funny that you talk about the Zen’in inheritance, Naoya.” The man⸺Gojo⸺scratched his chin in faux puzzlement while cockily smiling. “Last time I checked, Naobito was discussing handing it over to Megumi over pall-mall!”
Naoya was clearly growing more and more distressed. “Father wouldn’t dare to hand that child with a whore of a mother⸺”
Gojo clicked his tongue, outwardly showing a nonchalant smile, but you could noticeably see his eyes darken. “That’s no way to talk in front of a lady, Naoya, and certainly not of a mother. Besides, Mister Zen’in, didn’t Megumi save your family from the edge of poverty?”
Naoya’s nostrils flared. Clearly at the end of his wit, he did a small bow towards you as he swiftly exited your proximity. You blinked, partially processing the conversation that happened as well as the fact that you were now alone with this Gojo. Turning, you prepared your signature smile, the act you had been presenting for countless of young bachelors today. However, what made you stop in your tracks was his eyes.
Even the pure Englishmen you had met in London didn’t possess eyes like his. They were intense and vividly blue, flashing with judgment and calculation. His face, though strikingly pretty and slightly more feminine than others, seemed carefully constructed to mask his true thoughts. His white lashes contrasted sharply with his hair as he blinked.
And then it hit you. This was the heir of the Gojo dukedom, Satoru Gojo. Known as a capital R Rake for reasons unknown to you (Nobara just insisted he was), you could see elegance and arrogance exuding off of him, yet another noble with an ego as big as his wallet. You recall, then, what Whistledown had wrote about him⸺that he has never shown interest in marriage before today.
It was only after he blinked once more that you realized he was waiting for some response to an introuction you didn't catch. In a panicked flurry, you curtsied and said, “My apologies, Mister Gojo. I fear I haven’t had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. Miss Itadori, pleased to meet you.”
Gojo’s smile widened, his blue eyes twinkling with an almost imperceptible amusement. “A pleasure indeed, Miss Itadori.” He returned your curtsy with an elegant nod, his voice smooth and teasing. “I must say, you handle yourself with admirable grace amidst such a tumultuous crowd, my diamond.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gojo,” you replied, attempting to regain your composure as you took a sip of your punch. “I do try my best to navigate these social minefields.”
He chuckled softly, the sound light and charming. “Indeed. Though it seems you’ve had quite the evening already, judging by your rapid responses to Lord Zen’in’s advances.”
You raised an eyebrow, trying to draw a hint of a smile on your lips. “It appears you’ve been observing closely. Are you always so keenly aware of your surroundings, Mister Gojo?”
“Only when I find the scene particularly entertaining,” he said, his gaze shifting to watch the guests around the ballroom. “And tonight, the spectacle is quite extraordinary. I must admit, you are a refreshing change from the usual parade of predictable manners.”
“Predictable?” you asked, your curiosity somewhat piqued. “Do you find most of the guests here lacking in originality?”
“Perhaps not lacking, but certainly not as intriguing,” he replied with a playful grin. “Take, for instance, Mister Zen’in. A man of considerable ambition, no doubt, but with a flair for the dramatic that grows tiresome rather quickly.”
You nodded in agreement. “Yes, he certainly has a penchant for self-promotion. But then, one could argue that every gentleman here has his own brand of theatrics.”
“True,” Gojo said, tilting his head slightly. “But what I find most fascinating is how you’ve managed to stand out amidst this display of pomp and circumstance. It’s not every day one encounters someone who seems so effortlessly poised, even in the face of such overt competition.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mister Gojo,” you said with a light laugh. “But I assure you, my composure is a carefully cultivated skill, not merely a natural state.”
“Ah, then I must commend your efforts,” Gojo said, his eyes gleaming. “It is a rare talent to maintain such grace under pressure. If I may be so bold, might I request the honor of a dance with you this evening? I promise to provide a diversion from the usual pretenses.”
You hesitated for a moment, weighing the potential benefits of engaging further with this intriguing man against the immediate demands of the evening. Finally, you offered him a meek smile. "Of course. I shall be delighted to dance this waltz with you."
Pleased, he guided you to the center of the ballroom, your hand elegantly placed in his. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph as you noticed Lady Mei Mei’s envious glances and the heated stares from other young ladies.
Gojo positioned his hand on your waist as you both assumed the proper stance for the dance. “So, how are you enjoying your night? I trust you’re finding pleasure amidst the horde of suitors the Queen has so graciously provided.”
You smiled demurely, carefully maneuvering around him. “Well, my lord, I am very grateful to the Queen for her blessing this season.” You took a delicate step, noting Gojo’s amused smile. “However, it is quite tiring to meet so many people. Repeating my preferences for the countryside or the city can become rather exhausting.”
Gojo’s smile widened as he guided you through a graceful turn. “And which do you prefer?”
“I would argue that the city is preferable when I feel lonely,” you said, gliding with him. “Yet the countryside is ideal for moments of solitude and reflection. Naturally, it also serves as a lovely setting for fond memories with a future husband.”
“What do you enjoy doing in nature?”.
“Embroidering or practicing the pianoforte,” you replied, making sure to display a wistful smile. “There is something particularly enchanting about playing the piano with the door open, letting nature's melody blend with the music.”
“Do you have any other talents or skills?” Gojo inquired as you both continued your dance.
“Yes,” you said, ���I am fond of reading and immersing myself in literature. I also have a passion for the arts and languages.”
“Which languages do you speak?” he asked, guiding you through a series of intricate steps.
“I am well-versed in the classics⸺Latin and Greek. I’ve also picked up some French and Spanish, when I was yearning to follow my older brother through Europe for years.”
“What about literature? What do you enjoy reading?” Gojo pressed, his eyes never leaving yours.
Your smile grew slightly strained as you felt the conversation veer towards an uncomfortable territory. You felt as if the duke was interviewing you for review of your admission into an academic institution rather than holding conversation. “I enjoy Byron, sir,” you said carefully.
Gojo hummed in approval. “And here I was, thinking all ladies were engrossed in Whistledown.”
“Ah, well,” you feigned a sigh, your smile tight. “Gossip has its charm for a lady, sometimes.”
“For men, too, I must admit,” Gojo said, tilting his head towards his group of friends. “But I must confess, it is rather unpleasant when the gossip circulates that I am a rake.”
That's because they're true, you whore. "I guess it's up to the smarter individuals in society to discern the truth from the slander."
Gojo’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he guided you through the final steps of the dance. “Indeed, it seems wisdom and discernment are valuable traits in navigating the labyrinth of society’s gossip.”
You nodded. “Quite so. It is the discerning few who see beyond the surface and recognize the true character of a person.”
As the music swelled to its concluding notes, Gojo drew you closer, his gaze fixed on you with a calculative expression. “And what is it that you seek to convey through your own character, Miss Itadori? In a world full of pretense, what do you wish to be known for?”
You maintained your practiced smile. "Mister Gojo, in a world where appearances often speak louder than words, I find it best to embody grace and humility. I hope to be seen as a gentle and devoted companion, one who supports and uplifts those around her.”
Gojo’s smile only sharpened, and you couldn’t help but shake the feeling of somehow being calculated, observed, even hunted as he offered,  “A noble aspiration. It is refreshing to encounter someone who values authenticity amidst the artifice.”
As the final strains of the waltz came to an end, Gojo escorted you back to your starting position. He bowed deeply, his eyes never leaving yours. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Itadori. It has been an evening of unexpected delights.”
You curtsied in return, your eyes meeting his with a demure and sincere expression. “The pleasure was mine, my lord. I am honored to have had this opportunity.”
With a final, charming smile, Gojo stepped back, giving you a nod. “Until we meet again, Miss Itadori. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
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After Gojo had taken his leave, you found yourself once again surrounded by a steady stream of suitors eager to engage you in conversation. You indulged a few with polite discourse, your smile unwavering as you navigated the well-trodden paths of societal pleasantries. Despite your best efforts, fatigue began to set in, and you soon reached your limit.
Deciding to take a brief respite, you excused yourself with practiced grace. You made your way discreetly to the veranda, seeking solace and a breath of fresh air away from the relentless din of the ballroom. As you stepped out into the cool night air, the sound of the revelry faded to a distant murmur, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the faint scent of blooming flowers.
With your mind fresh and clear from the suffocating revelry, you couldn't help but reflect back on the night. With the Queen deeming you as the diamond of the season, you knew your mother and Choso had been appeased. Of course, tomorrow was going to be a long morning; judging by the sheer number of young men approaching you today, you knew many of them would be visiting your drawing room to converse with you and gain the approval of your brother.
There were some suitors that stood out. Lord Ino seemed to take genuine interest in what you had to say, but Mister Fushiguro had both interest and quiet respect that you couldn't help but think was ideal for a marriage. After all, you just wanted a peaceful life after securing yourself and your family. While brief, you had conversed a bit with both Duke Nanami and Lord Geto, but it had been interrupted by some of their friends inviting them onto the terrace. You were sure Naoya wouldn't bother showing his face tomorrow.
That left him. Blue eyes. You couldn't help but think you had heard about him somewhere. 
Gojo.
Even though you couldn't recall much other than his rakish tendencies, the future title of Duke was certainly attractive and respectable. He wasn't so bad; with dashing looks, you couldn't help but simply think that a pretty face wouldn't be bad to look at for all those years. You snickered to yourself at your sheer display of vanity in your thoughts.
If you had to think of the most vain reasons to justify your suitors, Mister Gojo would definitely top your list of the most handsome of men. With a sturdy and healthy build, you could notice the years of dedication he must put in to maintain his athleticism. Perhaps archery, you thought. Those shoulders were definitely wide for days. Or maybe horse riding. He definitely seemed to fill in his pants with his thighs.
However, it was impossible to ignore his mischievous nature. You couldn't imagine a man such as the future Duke showing any outward display of affection, and all your interactions⸺from him outwitting Naoya, to interviewing you under the pretense of dancing⸺have always had him either besting or calculating the other converser. He definitely had a superiority complex, you rolled your eyes. Clearly, your display of the simple and stupid maiden pleased him. You wondered if he treated all the other ladies with the same level of disrespect and evaluation.
Deciding you were too far into the gardens, you turned the opposite direction to join the revelry once more in fear of attracting strange rumors about your presence in the gardens late at night. As soon as you got closer and closer to the ballroom, you heard voices.
"Ah, but there is the diamond, of course." 
You perked up, interested in knowing who was talking about you. The voices seemed to be coming from the entrance between the terrace and the ballroom. "Of course, I understand why the Queen has deemed her so." Crouching, you aimed to discreetly hide behind a large trimmed bush in such a manner that if someone were to be passing by, you wouldn’t appear suspicious. 
Another voice chimed in. “She is beautiful. Not in the salacious way Lady Mei Mei is, but in a more authentic and innocent way.” 
“I fear the ladies nowadays are salacious⸺hungry for suitors with money and power⸺so it only makes sense that the ladies appear that way. But the diamond; she is different.”
A slap, as if someone was affectionately patted on the back for attention. “Yes, yes. But let the man of the night give us his assessment. After all, he is the one who is here tonight with us, finding a wife, when no one who had ever talked to him would ever think he would be doing such a thing.”
“Well, of course. It wouldn’t take a fool to know that marriage is basically imprisonment.” You could discern the speaker’s wry tone. “The goal here is to appease my parents, and my ticket to that is the diamond.”
“Well, get on with it,” a voice pressed, rather impatiently. “What’s your assessment?”
“A bit simpleminded.” Some feeling struck your lungs, as you recognized that it was Gojo’s voice that was speaking. You swallowed, your heart pounding as you waited for more harsh words to torrent upon you. “Has no opinions of substance that should cause conflict. She’s perfectly fine for a wife. I shall begin courting her and will soon propose⸺"
You didn’t hear the rest because you soon found yourself dashing in the opposite direction, towards an alternate entrance to the ballroom. You couldn’t bear to hear any of the more degrading and embarrassing things Gojo had to say about you as you slowed your pace to a fast walk. 
With the main entrance to the ballroom in sight, you thought about the other gentlemen⸺if you could even call them that⸺that must be present, conversing with Gojo. How widespread are these assessments of you? Do all gentlemen think you stupid? However, your thoughts are interrupted when you bump into someone, rather hard.
“Are you alright?”
You look up, putting a hand to your bosom as you try to catch your breath. You see Duke Nanami’s face in close proximity, as he furrows his brow in light worry. You’re clutching your forearms as you are heaving, trying to get oriented. “Yes,” you heave. “Yes, Your Grace.” 
Nanami clearly didn’t accept your assurance as he helped you stand to your full height. “Is there anything wrong?”
“No, no, I assure you; I am quite alri⸺”
“Sister! There you are!” Yuji comes up from behind Nanami, and both of you turn to look at him. “I’ve been looking for you! The punch here is terrible, some of the mamas here are horribly intoxicated. Do you know Mei Mei’s mother just admit⸺” he cuts himself off as he observes Nanami, who’s still touching your arms,  with wide eyes. “Di⸺Did I interrupt something?”
“NO, you didn’t.” You burst out, not wanting yet another man leaving with an unfavorable expression of you tonight. You and Nanami both take a step back to distance yourselves, and he clears his throat.
“Good night, Miss Itadori. Mister Itadori.” He gives you both curt bows as he makes his way past to his carriage.
Yuji blinks. “Oookay. Anyways. Mei Mei’s mother just barfed on top of Naoya as she was buttering him up. I must admit, Mei Mei and Naoya make a formidable match in being intolera⸺”
You could feel yourself filtering Yuji out as you thought about the gentlemen’s gossip from earlier. While you weren’t exactly surprised that Gojo appraised you as a pawn, you couldn’t help but be a little offended that he could talk behind your back. Who’s to predict the other naive ladies that would be subject to his callous and calculative behavior?
 There was only one conclusion to be drawn that you swear to remember for the rest of the season: Gojo was not a man of honor, and you were not going to be one of his victims. 
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next. the aftermath
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wordsarelife · 2 months ago
Text
—mine
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pairing: theo nott x fem!reader
summary: your’s and theo's relationship throughout the years
warnings: canon typical violence near the end, mentions of the war, blood and death
note: feel free to request stuff for the christmas calender!!
theo was startled by a sudden voice who called out his name, he turned around, the book he was about to push into the empty space still in his hand. 
"nott" you had muttered, arms crossed and the surprised expression on his face when he turned around had almost made you lose it. you quirked a brow at the missing reaction. "i guess you don't even know my name?" 
"sorry" theo winced and you could see how umcomfortable he was simply because he knew nothing about the person standing in front of him. 
"don't feel too bad" you shrugged. "didn't know yours until you borrowed my favorite book for four weeks and i had to beg madam pince to tell me the name of the person who had it" 
"well, sorry again" theo held the book in your direction. "you can have it now, if you still want it" 
you completely ignored the book, until theo sighed and put it back in the empty space on the shelf where it belonged. "guess not" he muttered to himself. 
"so, tell me, theodore nott" you followed him back to the table with his things. "what tempts a guy like you to borrow a book like that?" 
"well, without meaning to insult you, i'd say it is more male literature than female isn't it?"
"you're a moron if you really think something like female or male literature exists" you sat down in the chair across from him. "i wouldn't declare sherlock holmes as male literature, more preciously i would say that most boys are too daft to even understand half the things arthur conan doyle mentions and to your information i'm taking great insult to whatever the hell you just said"
"geez" theo's eyes had widened, he found you a bit odd, annoying even, but he couldn't help but feel all the same intrigued. "like what you just said isn't an insult. most boys are too daft, huh?" 
"maybe daft is a bit too harsh, i admit that" you rolled your eyes, a smile on your lips, "but i'd say most are too impatient to read those books, yes"
"well, you're not wrong about that" theo nodded "i can't remember the last time one of my friends touched a book that wasn't part of a class" 
"that's quiet sad, i'd say"
"i agree" theo smiled. "so, now that we're on the same page, do you mind telling me your name? i feel like i deserve to know it"
"no" you grinned just as the smile vanished from his face. "i decide when you deserve to know, theodore nott" you left him sitting there, speechless about the sudden rejection. 
you never actually told theo your name. he only found out when you managed to borrow the memoirs of sherlock holmes for two months straight. 
the next time that the two of you talked was a few months later, at the beginning of december. snow had fallen and the hogwarts grounds had turned into a beautiful white landscape. 
the snow was poudry, but you managed not to slip as you made your way through it. your body tightly wrapped in layers of clothing, the thick ravenclaw scarf almost reaching up to your eyes as the falling snow hit your face. 
"not the right weather for a stroll, is it?" theodore nott had caught up to you, not exactly spotting the right outfit for the wuthering cold. 
"well, i know there's a reason you're a slytherin and not a ravenclaw, but i would've expected you to be just a little smarter, nott" 
theo looked down on his clothes just as you did. "i was actually just going for a smoke"
"in the middle of a mild snowstorm?" you quirked a brow. "i'd say it's not the right weather to be doing that either"
"you're a real know-it-all" 
"tell me something new, nott" you rolled your eyes "it's exhausting to always be right, you know?"
"i bet it is" theo shrugged sarcastically. "there had to have been a reason you got sorted into ravenclaw"
"well, as said before, i can see why you weren't" you shrugged with a grin. 
theo sighed. "another dig at the outfit, really?" 
"well, considering you're standing here discussing with me and getting yourself wet, i'd say i'm allowed to keep judging your outfit" 
"fair point" theo nodded and you were surprised he gave up so easily. "are you coming or what?" he asked, ready to walk back inside.
"no" you shook your head "you go ahead though, wouldn't want you catching a cold, who would faint during potions then and entertain the rest of the class?"
"hey, that was one time" he called, as you walked away "how did you even hear about that, we're not in the same potions class?"
you just shrugged and send him a smile over your shoulder. he was standing in front of the doors to the castle, soaked from head to toe and you had to admit, theodore nott was a (beautiful) sight for sore eyes. 
it wasn't like you minded theo's company, but you noticed how he started hanging around the places you frequently visited during the weeks to come. 
theo had it especially easy when he realized that you stuck to your routines during the week, making it impossible for him to miss you once he had figured it out. 
monday and wednesdays after class were spent in the library, doing homework or reading a book from your list. tuesdays you helped madam pomfrey in the infirmary, healing minor injuries or filling up medicine cabinets. thursdays were reserved for your friends, playing card games or just spending time together in the common room, you always found something to do. 
fridays were flexible and you often decided what to do spontaneously. sometimes you did a little tutoring, on other fridays you helped madam pince sort through books and put them back where they belonged or you continued reading the book you had begun reading that week. saturdays and sundays were for remaining homework, hogsmeade visits and drafting letters to send back to your family on the start of the next week. 
"you're not being slick, you know that?"
it was a friday and you were putting away books, when theo kept lingering around you, like he had done that past week. 
"what?" he asked, looking up from the book in front of him, a confused tone to his voice, clearly trying to mask that he knew exactly what you were talking about.
"well, i was sure you knew stalking was considered a legal offence" you noted.
"stalking?" he repeated. "i'm not stalking you"
"now, you're not not stalking me, are you?" you send a tight-lipped smile in his direction. "i do admit that it might be a question of definition, though" 
"aren't you a bit full of yourself if you think i would be stalking you"
"that was offensive" you rolled your eyes "and i'm pretty sure i'm not imaging you turning up everywhere i went this past week. and considering i didn't know you until a few months ago, i'd say that you only started doing that recently"
"well, i didn't"
"okay, you didn't" your shrugged and turned back to the shelf, reaching for another row of books from the trolley beside you, before you pushed them in a row one after the other. 
theo furrowed his brows, surprised by you just letting him get away like that. he knew he wasn't being slick, hell, he even knew that he was behaving like a stalker. you weren't wrong in the slightest and theo felt a bit called out by your words. but on the other hand, you hadn't said anything about being opposed to the idea that he really did go everywhere you did.
you waved at him, before you pushed the trolley into the next row of shelves. it didn't take long for him to follow, already making a decision in his mind. 
"go out with me" 
if he had startled you, you didn't show it. you didn't even blink at his suggestion, rather ignoring him like he was a fly on the wall, as you continued reaching for books on the trolley.
theo pushed the trolley to the side and stepped into the empty space. the next time you tried to reach for a stack of books, you touched his chest instead. 
"you're still here, nott" you noted the obvious. 
theo had to admit that he was a tad bit unsettled by your ignorance. he wasn't sure if you really hadn't heard him or if you just ignored the question, because he had made you uncomfortable. 
"you know, normally stalkers don't look so scared" you smiled mischievously. 
"i'm not stalking you, but i can understand if my company made you uncomfortable and i apologize if i have gone too far"
"you're a bit weird, you know that?"
"this is a serious topic, y/n" 
you smiled at the honesty in his voice and sighed. "do you really think if you were making me uncomfortable or i was scared of you i would continue to speak to you?" 
"well, no—"
"i'm not a child, theodore nott, i can voice when i'm annoyed, but i respect your manners" you smiled "and if anyone follows me around like a lost puppy, i'm glad it's someone with at least a little intellect"
"little intellect?" theo repeated offended. 
"you might be smarter than i thought, but you're really bad at this" 
"i know" 
"well, would you now let me sort in the rest of these books? you're kind of in the way"
theo, nodded, the disappointment flashing over his features just like a wave of water. "i guess that's a no" 
you waited until he had stepped aside and pushed the trolley back in it's original position. your hands reached for the row of sherlock holmes books and you held them up at him like a trophy. "that means yes, obviously" 
theo spent exactly three days brainstroming what to do for your date. his friends tried their best at helping him, more than interested to finally hear something about the mysterious girl theo had been infuriated with these past weeks. 
"is she that hideous?" blaise asked on the third day of theo's hard thinking.
"what?" theo raised his brows, he had been too deep in thought to even hear his friend.
"blaise just asked if your girlfriend was hideous, i'd hit him if i were you" mattheo shrugged, stiring the pot. it had been a particular slow morning and he had to admit that it would be quiet entertaining to see blaise and theo fight each other. 
"five galleons on blaise" enzo added, before theo was able to say something. 
"have a little faith in him" pansy said next to theo. "he might not look like it, but the boy has a wicked right hook"
"this is just embarrassing" draco threw the newspaper down in front of him. 
"what?" pansy giggled "the newspaper or that theo and blaise are going to slap each other even more stupid"
"take a guess"
"guys" theo sighed, annoyance already taking over the worry that was bubbling inside him. "i'm not going to fight blaise and y/n is not my girlfriend"
"no yet" enzo wiggled his brows.
"y/n, huh?" mattheo said with a mischievous smile.
"oh god" all colour drained from theo's face. "please tell me the two of you didn't hook up with each other"
"close to it" mattheo shrugged. "she tended to my wounds in the infirmary once and i could tell she had the hots for me"
"wasn't she the one who said you had the charm of a troll and the brains to match?" blaise offered with a smirk.
enzo's mouth almost hit the table infront of him by how fast it flew open. "that was y/n?" he giggled.
theo had to smile. "that does sound like something she'd say"
"she sounds lovely" draco nodded sarcastically "but at least she never saw mattheo naked. that does make her at least a little likable"
"i already love her" pansy quickly said, before draco could continue his judging. "seems like she knows how to handle little annoyances" 
"i'm not a little annoyance"
"yeah" theo nodded "you're a quite big one, actually" 
theo couldn't tell what had led him to the idea for your date, but he had known in that moment what the both of you should do. 
"so hot chocolate was your huge idea?" you smiled as you sat down in the booth across from him, the server already putting down two mugs with steaming hot drinks in front of you. 
"i saw how your friends gave you their hot chocolate packages after dinner and figured this might be something you liked" he shrugged "and before you call me a stalker again, i'm just very attentive to those around me"
you giggled as the grandma at the table next to you send you a worried glance at theo's words.
"he's harmless" you laughed in a way to assure her. 
theo managed an awkward wave and the woman turned away quickly.
"well, it seems those around you are very attentive too" you giggled. 
"i'm sorry" theo tried to hide behind his mug, feeling a tad bit ashamed at the awkward encounter, but having to laugh at the same time. 
"don't be" you smiled honestly "rather tell me something i didn't already find out by snooping around"
"you snooped around?" theo exclaimed surprised. 
"i had to get even, after you found out everything about me" you shrugged "i met this lovely boy, i think he goes by the name enzo, who told me a whole lot about you"
"oh god, no" 
"quite interesting to hear about all those things from someone who has no interest in sleeping with me"
"what? i don't—“
"so you don't intend to sleep with me?" you smiled. "don't be ridiculous, theodore nott"
"i'm just not used to being this straightforward, admittedly"
you completely ignored the surprise swinging in his voice and went on with your story. "enzo did give me some exciting information and i wanted to talk about one thing in particular"
theo was ready to close his eyes and open them back up after you had screamed and left him sitting alone at the table. he had to admit that he wasn't particularly proud of his dating history (or lack of) before he met you and he was sure you weren't happy about that either. 
"before you say something" he interrupted you, before you were able to let the words slip past your lips. "i'm not like that anymore, i was young and not interested in a relationship and just wanted a bit of fun—"
"what are you talking about exactly?" you asked, a susprised smile on your face. 
"that wasn't what you wanted to talk about, was it?" theo asked and you shook your head giggling. 
"i mean, don't let me tell you what to talk about" you managed to say between your laughter. "we can talk about your previous hookups if that's something you'd like to discuss"
"i'd rather not" theo shook his head and his cheeks turned rosy. 
"fine" you smiled "now back to my question: how did you manage to play out that prank on professor binns in our third year?"
theo's features relaxed at the simple question and he smiled, recalling the memory. "so it all started with a ridiculous idea from mattheo and me getting roped into something stupid again"
you spent the rest of the night talking and ordering one hot chocolate after the other. there was not one second of awkward silence, even as theo brought you back to your common room. 
"i had a lot of fun tonight" theo smiled, hands sinking into the pockets of his trousers. 
you had admired how well dressed he was when he had come to get you in the afternoon. 
"me too" you said honestly. "i can't wait for the next one"
"so there will be a next one?" 
"don't be ridiculous, theodore nott" you smiled, before telling the password to the eagle ontop of the door. "of course there will a next one" you slipped into the common room and away from the smiling boy in front of it. 
"are they weirder than you?" 
the voice startled theo, as he was standing in front of the shelf in the library. he turned around, not surprised that it was you who had asked that question. you mostly started your conversations in the middle, without so much as a hello or some kind of warning. 
"what?" theo wasn't sure what else to ask.
"you friends of course" you shrugged, like that had been obvious "we've been together for a month and i've never even met them" 
"well, you have met them" theo corrected. "like in the hallways or during dinner" 
"you know what i mean, theodore" you rolled your eyes. "i don't think a grunting sound could be classified as me meeting someone"
"that's just blaise, honestly" theo muttered "but pansy waved to you during dinner more than three times now"
"theo" you pushed "either something is completely wrong with them or me and i'd like to know what it is, now" you sighed, before you added "just say if you're ashamed of me or something, i know i can be a bit rude to people i don't know"
"tesoro" theo sighed "i'm sorry that i let you think that. they're just annoying, that's all"
"and you thought they would scare me away?" you smiled, touching his cheeks with your hands. "you stalked me for weeks and i'm still dating you, aren't i?"
"that's never gonna be funny" he called after you, as you walked out of the library. "fine, breakfast at the slytherin table for you tomorrow" 
"aye, aye" 
"she's not hideous" was the first thing you heard when you sat down at the table the next morning. 
"well, you aren't either, zabini" you smiled, not even fazed by his assumption. "even though theo warned me about you" 
"burn!" enzo called, exchanging a high five with pansy. 
"i'm so glad we finally get to meet" pansy smiled. "i've just been waiting to have another girl around, it sometimes gets to much with all the testosterone"
"i don't know how you manage, honestly" you smiled.
to say theo's friends and you hit it off immediately would be an understatement. it took approximately ten minutes for you to become part of the group. enzo and you had been friends before, unlikely study partners, after you had helped him on a potions assignment once. pansy was ready to keep you by her side for the rest of the year and even blaise took a quick liking to you.
mattheo and draco were harder to break. mattheo, still having a pretty hurt ego about you turning him down the year before, was sure that you were just dating theo to get back at him for whatever reason and draco was just not interested to have any relationship past a simple hello and goodbye. 
you didn't mind their antics, even if theo repeatedly apologized for it. 
yours and theo’s relationship lasted for exactly two years. theo broke up with you one day after your anniversary.
the break up was painful, the fight that followed even more and still, you held him that evening, both of you understanding the severity of your situation and the war that was waiting to happen.
“theo” you cried, rushing through the ruins of the courtyard just months later. 
you had been on different sides after all. you had followed harry potter into the war and theo had been bound to his father and to the promise the man had given to the dark lord. just like draco, mattheo, pansy, blaise and enzo. 
your friends had gotten lost in the fight and despite not being supposed to, you were desperately screaming for them. 
you ran back into the castle, not having found theo outside. you send curses at the death eaters that tried approaching you, having more luck than an actual plan. you were simply determined to find him. 
you were thrown down to the ground as the doors of the room of requirement suddenly appeared and flew open. just as quickly as they had opened, they closed again, spitting out people in the procress, before the fire was tamed behind the doors. 
harry potter, hermione granger and ron weasley were standing up from the ground slowly, black powder darkening their cheeks and clothes. 
it took a moment for you to realize who the other two people were, as you quickly got up from the ground. 
draco was breathing just as heavily as blaise was, both trying to fill their lungs with air. 
“oh god” you mumbled, before you finally started moving, your legs guiding you into the direction of your friends, falling into their arms and pressing them close to you. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry” you cried. 
blaise and draco held onto you just as tight, not being able to let you go as they cried into your hair.
“be honest, draco” you said when you broke the hug, completely ignoring the trio next to you. 
“theo” draco muttered, knowing what you were talking about immediately. blaise and him exchanged a look. 
“is he dead?” you asked, heartbreak already burning in your limbs and throat. you were ready to mourn, ready to lose your life just like him. he had died for the wrong cause, but you hoped, heart heavy in your chest, that death was more forgiving than his life had been. 
“we don’t know” blaise finally said. “we got seperated in the halls, theo—he was looking for you i think”
“i have to find him” you muttered, touching each hand of the boys in front of you. “stay safe” you kissed both of their cheeks, before you turned on your heel, running down the corridor opposite of where you had come from. 
“theo!” you called once more, running up the stairs and through various hallways, hopeless to ever receive an answer.
“y/n” a voice called and you almost crumbled from the surprise it reached you with. hope was hard to keep and you had thought, really thought, that he was dead. 
theo wasn’t dead, but close to it. he was laying on the ground, his back against the wall, while the rest of his body was bathing in his own blood. his cheeks were empty of any colour, lips dry and almost blue as he looked up at you with tired eyes. 
“oh god” you muttered in shock, slipping onto the ground beside him, your uniform soaking up the blood like it was water in the lake. your hands touched his chest and the big glass shard that was stuck inside of it. theo hissed in pain. “sorry, sorry” you whispered. 
“they surprised me as i came down the corridor” he explained. “i was looking for you”
“you found me now” you whispered once more. 
“i don’t think they meant to do this” sweat dripped from his forehead. “they were kids, not older than fourteen, but they left and they took my wand”
“oh god” you repeated as you shook your head, holding his face in your blood soaked hands and kissing his lips softly.
“i thought you were dead” tears slipped over his cheeks and you shook your head crying. 
“i’m gonna help you” you said quickly, before reaching for your wand and using it’s magic to extract the glass from theo’s body. he was winding on the ground, the pain probably unbearable. but you had to do this in order to help him. he would heal, he would survive and that was all that mattered to you in this moment. 
“i don’t want to fight” theo cried “not for them, not against you” 
“i know, my love, i know”
the healing had begun, slowly but surely his wound closed up, only leaving behind the blood around you and the worry on your face.
“come on” you said, as soon as he looked less pale. you took his hand and he followed you through the corridors of the castle, standing next to you when you had to fight death eaters, even beginning to send curses himself. 
“you don’t have to fight, theo” you called over the loudness of the fight. “confringo! i don’t want you to fight against him” 
“i’m not leaving you” theo called back, his voice nearly drowned out by the deatheater across from him, who was screaming curses and uttering threats about theo’s betrayal at the same time. “he doesn’t mean anything to me”
“what?” you send the deatheater flying against the wall, effectively knocking him out. your wand was now facing theo's death eater too.
“i don’t care for my father” theo said, before he too send the man flying. “i only care for you and your well being”
you made sure it was safe, before you pulled him in and kissed him so passionately that you almost forgot you had ever been apart. “don’t ever let me go again, theodore nott” 
“i wouldn’t dare, y/n l/n” 
you took his hand, walking back into the entrance hall, looking if you were needed anywhere. that’s when you saw them coming over the bridge. 
“he’s here” you said, pushing theo behind you if there was really anything you could do to save him. “he’s—“ you paused, as the both of you walked closer up behind the rows of people already standing in the courtyard.
“harry…?” your voice was quiet, as you adressed the boy you had put all your hope in. someone you hadn’t known well, not well enough to be on first name basis, but what did it matter now that he was. what was he?
“harry potter is dead!” voldemort announced loudly, while the deatheaters broke into laughter. 
ginny weasley dashed forward with a heartbreaking scream. “no! no!”
“stupid girl! harry potter is dead, from this day forth you put your faith in me” you looked down onto the ground in front of you and then back at theo, who looked like he was being painfully tortured by voldemorts words. he too had set his hope into harry.
“it’s done” you said softly. “the war is over”
“we lost”
“harry potter is dead!” voldemort repeated once more “and now is the time to declare youself. come forward and join us.. or die”
your ears were drenched out by the wailing sound in your head. it was loud that you missed everything neville said. you pressed your eyes close, wishing to be anywhere else. to be free from this destiny, but you knew you could never just leave. you wouldn’t be able to leave all these people behind. 
it was theo‘s voice that woke you from your half sleeping state. the word he muttered was foreign on his tongue, but ignited a flame inside of you immediately. 
“harry��
your eyes snapped open like a gun shot had rung through the air. but it wasn’t the sound of a gun. it was harry potter, who was running and firing spells at voldemort. you just had seconds to react, before the fight broke out again, no end in sight. 
you had never thought to be happy that a war continued.
but continuation meant that you hadn’t lost yet. there was a chance to win as long as harry potter was alive. 
when voldemort finally dies, it’s nothing like you ever imagined. he bursts into the air, pieces by pieces disappearing until only his wand is left. 
the deatheater in front of you let’s his wand fall to the ground and you don’t have any interest to finish the job as you sank into theo‘s arms. content is flashing through your body and immediate tiredness is dragging you down. theo holds you as all your weight crashes against him. 
you‘re tired of fighting and of war and death and fear. there is nothing in your head, apart from the thought that you will never have to endure all of that again.
theo and you went away after the war.
you travelled europe for a year, before you came back to hogwarts to finish the school year you were still missing. 
theo got a job at the ministry, you started working at hogwarts. he proposed to you the day that you signed the contract. 
your wedding was beautiful. pansy and luna were your bridesmaids. draco and mattheo were theo‘s groomsmen. all of your friends were there. you had even invited the golden trio, it was only thanks to them that the both of you were still alive and able to celebrate your connection.
“you lost your bow again, robin!” theo picked up the little pink bow and clipped it to his suit, knowing that your daughter was way too busy to even hear him call for her. 
“maybe you should just give up” you suggested, picking up luke who was softly hitting your leg, seemingly tired of walking. 
“but she looks so cute with it!” theo protested, the disappointment sipping from his voice as he pushed the trolley through the wall. 
“it‘s no use if she always loses them” you shrugged. “what is it? like the tenth one you’ve gotten her in the past month alone? just wait until she’s older, love”
theo sighed, but nodded at your suggestion. 
“grace, robin” you called, looking around the people in front of you to spot your girls. 
“well, lucky you’ve got me” mattheo popped up next to you, robin in his arms, as he threw a wink in your direction. 
“why are you even here, mate?” theo asked annoyed “you didn’t have any children the last time i checked”
“well, theres still a few women we’re not a hundred percent sure about yet” pansy joked as she appeared in front of you. “hey sweetheart” she kissed your cheek, before she took luke out of your arms. 
“haha” mattheo rolled his eyes. “i was just accompanying my nieces and nephew’s like a good godfather and uncle should do”
“nope” theo shook his head. “you’re still not grace’s godfather, one daughter of mine has to be enough, riddle” 
“yeah, yeah” mattheo shook his head, clearly not caring about anything theo said “we’ll get there eventually”
“no, we won’t, that’s the point—“ 
“hello nott” blaise greeted, draco following, scorpius and grace behind him. you sighed in relief, glad you daughter had not gotten lost.
“blaise” theo nodded, while you went around the trolley, hugging both men. 
“amazing style choice” blaise pointed against his chest and theo's eyes fell down on his own chest, having completely forgotten about the bow he had pinned there. “looks great on you, mate”
“it’s robin’s”
“sure, keep telling yourself that” blaise said with a sarcastic smile “i heard denial is a river in egypt, y/n”
you giggled, but promptly stopped when theo elbowed you. “you’re my wife. mine” he muttered between clenched teeth, but clearly joking. 
draco took a look on his watch. “there are places we have to be, aren’t there?” he set a hand on both scorpius’ and grace’s shoulder, who were talking to each other excitedly.
“of course” you nodded, following your friends to the platform and hugging your daughter so close, as if that might make her leaving a little less hard. “stay with scorpius, sweetheart. stick together, the both of you” you advised. 
“i think isaac was trying to safe a department for the three of you” blaise told you daughter, who smiled gratefully. 
“yes, mum” grace nodded, before you swapped places with theo, who was already crying. 
“write to me every week, honey!” he declared. “stay far away from professor trewlaney and close to your mother as soon as she’s back at work”
“theo” you shook your head “she should have space to develop” you watched grace and scorpius board the train, waving as it slowly left the station.
“i’ve seen people develop at hogwarts!” he shook his head “it lead to a pregnancy in your case, tesoro”
blaise and draco choked on their spit simultaneously.
“that was after i became a teacher and you know it, dear husband”
mattheo held robin away from him, to take her in fully. “were you made there too?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone in particular.
“mattheo!” draco, pansy and you scolded loudly. 
“hey guys!” enzo appeared behind you suddenly, startling all of you. “oh no, they’re already off, aren’t they?” 
you nodded sadly, feeling sorry for the poor bloke who couldn’t arrive on time if his life depended on it.
“half an hour too late” draco exclaimed with a look at his watch. “as always”
“well you know the traffic is being a bitch” enzo slapped a hand to his mouth, before he took a quick look at evie next to him. “sorry, love. well everything’s been a b-word since jacky started forcing me to use muggle transportation.”
“i do not envy you one bit” mattheo shrugged.
“well, evie” enzo shrugged “the train is gone, but i hear that the weasleys have this super cool car, that—“
“no!” you shook your head, taking the little girls hand in yours. “i’ll take her!” 
“so get-together at yours or what, nott?” mattheo asked “gonna have to know which of your kids were conceived in hogwarts” 
“mattheo!” all of you scolded at the same time.
409 notes · View notes
pomefioredove · 3 months ago
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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ kudos and enemies to lovers
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type of post: fic characters: rook additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, this is ooc I just thought it was funny, rook writing rpf is morally questionable I KNOW. he's a freak author's note: the fanfiction site is made up
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"completely ooc. vil would never say this"
Rook Hunt has been staring at the anonymous comment for hours.
He's come back to it five times, taking breaks only to rest his eyes when the harsh glare of the computer screen becomes too much.
It's not so uncommon for him to fall for so little; in just seven words, this anonymous hate had captured his full attention like a rabbit in a snare.
His gloved finger brushes over the enter key.
What to say? How could he possibly express himself in only a few hundred characters, in the comment section under a fanfiction of fifty thousand?
How he wishes they commented from an account... not only could he DM them, he may also have some idea of who they are. What sort of person would know Vil Schoenheit better than him?
No one. That's who.
"Dear Reader: I am sorry to hear you did not like my writing. However, I am inclined to believe I know Vil Schoenheit a modest amount better than you. Merci. -R"
Rook smiles. Eloquent, graceful, but firm. A gentleman like him would never start a fight.
Only finish it.
His curiosity finally put to rest, he responds to the other comments, thanking his usual commenters in detail.
When he scrolls back up to the top, there's something new:
"I sincerely doubt that. and fyi, you couldn't beg vil to be friends with neige"
Ohoho. Those are fighting words, he thinks. A smile creeps across Rook. Well, if it's a fight they want...
"Dear Reader: You doubt it? And how so? -R"
He refreshes the page again and again, hoping for an answer each time. This is the most stimulation he's had all week.
Now, who could this mysterious commentor be? A jealous fan, perhaps? A bitter critic?
Then:
"I was sitting next to him not two hours ago and he'd never say that"
Rook's smile widens. Of course. He should have guessed. The typing quirks, the misspelled words, even the voice in which each comment is written...
Now, he has you right where he wants you.
"Naughty naughty, Prefect. Does our Roi du Poison know you frequent the Vil Schoenheit x reader tag? or have you been keeping secrets again~?"
This time, he doesn't refresh. He knows you won't respond. Rook gets up from his desk and leaves his dorm, knowing just where to find you at this hour, and...
"Bonsoir, Trickster," he lets himself in your room.
As expected, there you are, looking beautifully flustered and vulnerable with your Crowley-approved phone in hand.
His smile sharpens. "Beautiful night, non?"
"I can explain,"
"Ah-ah," he tuts, sitting at the edge of your bed. "Do not be ashamed. I'm not a tattletale... not when I don't have to be."
His voice has a dangerous edge to it, and you give him a suspicious look. "What do you want?"
Rook lets the silence drag on, making you more and more impatient, more nervous, as if he were about to ask for something dangerous.
"Rescind your comments and leave a kudos on my work,"
You blink.
"...That's it?"
"Oui," he says. "...Unless you had something else in mind?"
You sigh. Now it's your turn to drag out the silence.
"...Let me edit your next fic,"
And, subsequently, it's Rook's turn to be surprised. He hadn't been expecting that. How... bold.
He smiles.
"...Ah... a tempting offer, I admit. I am working on something new. Perhaps we should discuss it over dinner?"
You think... and then: "I'm free Friday,"
"Then Friday it will be," Rook says, standing from your bed.
"Until then, mon petit critique~"
306 notes · View notes
merakiui · 24 days ago
Note
hucow skully turned out to be a bull with late puberty
WAAAA >w< everyone thinking he was a dairy cow for the longest time, only to be surprised when he’s actually a bull!!! Late bloomer Skully who definitely doesn’t seem like a bull or have any of the noticeable traits, but the farm supposes his height might give it away……and maybe his dick because what purpose is a big dick like that going to serve if not for breeding a fertile hucow???? What really gives it away, though, is the readiness and eagerness with which he fucks you. <3 so excited to have you in his arms. Sure, the farm had to lock you in a pillory so you’d stop struggling and attempting escape. Someone has to produce the next generation of cows, and if Skully’s not going to step foot near any of the eligible heifers then you’re just going to have to suffice. Which is wonderful news for him because he loves you oh-so-much.
Maybe they even hook you up to a milking machine. It can’t hurt to start stimulating your tits now because eventually you’ll start lactating, and maybe they can even bottle and sell your milk. Skully’s sorry it’s uncomfortable. He really wishes they’d let him breed you on a softer surface. Then he’d be able to hold you in his arms and whisper more intimately every promise and praise he keeps in his heart. Oh, but this can be romantic, too! He’ll do his best to make it so, but then he’s also sorry for gripping your hips so tightly. He’ll lean over and try to grab at your tits, wrapping his arms around your middle (later to be swelling with babies!!!! He’s so excited!!), in hopes of unhooking those pesky machines. It’s better to touch you with his warm hands, to cradle your tits so lovingly, kneading them as if he really does expect milk to come trickling out after just a few squeezes. In due time.
He knows you don’t like this and that it’s stressful, and for that he can’t apologize enough. But soon the aphrodisiac will settle in and you’ll be even wetter than you are now, your body impossibly hot, and you’ll be far more compliant. It’ll make it easier for you to take every inch of him and it won’t be such a strain! He’s really so proud of you for taking this much already and not letting a single drop spill out. Maybe your body wants this and your mind just isn’t on the same page yet. He likes to think it’s that and not open objection.
As he thought, it’s impossible. >_< you’re so pretty and soft and warm… and you make the sweetest mewls and moans when he pounds into you, each thrust announcing your connection in the most sinful of squelches. You really are so noisy. It’s too cute. Maybe you’re secretly a hucow yourself and just haven’t realized your true nature like the farm did with him. Aaaa wouldn’t that be a lovely surprise? It would be fate, right? But then isn’t it already fate that you’d be so compatible? It’s not forced. It’s love. You’ll see. :)
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harrywavycurly · 28 days ago
Note
Lonely request!! Bachelorette instagram posts that make Harry not only miss his bestie turned fiancé but also kinda concerned because what exactly are they doing in Miami 😂❤️
Hiiii babes!!! So I combined both of these into a little something and I hope you enjoy it! 💖
Find all things Lonely here✨
CW: Mentions of drinking
Tag List: @blckburd @fangirl509east @ell0ra-br3kk3r @youngpastafanmug @mattieshattuck1
A/N: Harry misses you and if he’s being honest he’s just curious what all you’ve gotten up to while in Miami, enjoy some fluff and if you squint you’ll see some jealous Harry✨
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Harry lets out a sigh as he runs his free hand that’s not holding his phone through his hair, a small smile creeps its way onto his face as a photo of you quickly flashes across his screen in a pair of heart shaped bedazzled sunglasses that say “bride to be” on them as you lay out next to a pool. It’s only been two days since you left for your Miami bachelorette trip with Niall and the rest of the bridesmaids and he’s been glued to his phone checking instagram what feels like every five minutes to see what you’re doing, like right now he’s on Niall’s instagram story and can see you’re having a themed lunch of some sort while yesterday all you really did according to your social media was have a pool day and went to a nice little dinner. Niall made it quite clear to Harry that while you were off in Miami his communication with you was to be limited, it’s your bachelorette trip and to quote your bestfriend you “don’t need your future husband up your ass the whole time” so Harry is trying his hardest not bother you and he’s done well so far but it’s only day two and he’ll be honest, he already misses you terribly.
Normally Harry has things like studio time or if he’s lucky a tour to prep for to help distract him in situations like this, but he’s not currently working on anything at the moment so he has nothing but time to sit on the couch and scroll through everyone’s Instagram for even the smallest little crumb of a detail of what you’re up to. He doesn’t expect you to be doing anything too scandalous because that’s just not who you are, but still it’s your bachelorette trip and Harry’s been privy to a few of those types of parties so he knows how wild those can be. But really Harry simply wants to know what that Irishman planned for you because he kept most of it to himself not even telling you the majority of the plans besides what you needed to know in order to know what to pack. And Harry knows if there’s one thing Niall can do, it’s plan one hell of a party so to turn it into a full blown trip only makes him even more curious what he has up his sleeve for you. So when Harry is scrolling on your page and sees you’ve posted a few new photos he feels his eyes go a bit wide before he runs a hand over his face and lets out a laugh as he shakes his head.
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He likes both photos and starts to scroll but before he gets far he feels his phone begin to vibrate and soon your name and photo is filling up his screen making a grin take over his face. Harry quickly hits answer and brings the phone up to his ear and is met with the sound of laughter making him wonder if you didn’t mean to call him.
“Harry?” You mumble as Harry hears what sounds like a door closing making the loud laughter turn into a muffled sound in the background. “S’that better? I can’t hear you.” Harry chuckles as he begins to realize what kind of call this is.
“Hi my love.” He can practically hear you smile into the phone as you let out a long dramatic sigh as he hears a ruffling sound making him think you probably just plopped down onto a bed.
“I can hear you now-oh did you know m’gon a be a wife? Like someone’s actual wife.” Harry just grins as the slightly mumbled words fall from your lips and he wishes he was there because he’s always loved being around you when you were a little drunk, you always tended to be more cuddly.
“Yeah? You getting married baby?” He asks sweetly as he gets comfortable on the couch, you let out a giggle that makes his heart feel like it’s going to actually melt due to how adorable you sound.
“Yes.” You answer with a smile on your face as you roll over into your back. “T’you silly.” Harry lets out a scoff as he playfully rolls his eyes as if you could see him making you laugh. “Did you forget about me? I’ve only been gone two days.” You ask with a huff and Harry knows there’s a good possibility you’re pouting and he can’t help but want to laugh because if you only knew how he’s been essentially cyberstalking you since the moment you left the house two days ago, you wouldn’t feel the need to ask him this question.
“You still want to marry me then?” He hears you let out a groan and he smiles to himself because he knows you’re rolling your eyes at him. You always act so annoyed when he asks you this question but he knows you kinda love to hear him need the reassurance that you still want to be his wife in a few months.
“Yes and I even-oh my god I forgot to tell you!” You sit up and Harry hears what he knows is the sound of your slippers padding across the floor as you walk towards the bathroom that’s attached to your bedroom. “We had a brunch thingy and guess what was on the napkins next to the cheese and crackers.” You reach over and grab your drink off the vanity just as Harry is about to answer. “Dicks. Like little tiny cute-”
“Tiny and cute? These are words you use to describe dicks often or just the ones on napkins?” The grin that takes over Harry’s face makes his cheeks hurt as your laugh comes through the phone and he knows it’s the kinda laugh that’s going to leave you with pink cheeks and watery eyes.
“Don’t worry I don’t use those words to describe yours I use-”
“Who the bloody fuck are you talking to?” Harry rolls his eyes at Niall’s loud voice in the background and he knows he only has a few minutes left on the phone with you.
“Uh my lawyer?” Harry bites back a laugh at your sad attempt of a cover up. “He uhm needed my signature on a-a uh prenup thing-thingy.” If Harry was there he’d have the hardest time taking what you just said seriously because your words are slightly slurred and your tone makes it seem like you just asked a question instead of explaining yourself, so he knows Niall is more than likely staring at you with a raised brow and a glare.
“He called you did he?” Niall asks and Harry knows right then that you’re done for. “Babe your lawyer is a woman named Janet.”
“Oh fuck Harry he caught me.” Harry laughs and can only shake his head at your admission, he hears Niall let out a laugh and then hears him tell you something along the lines of hurry up. “I gotta go back to my party.”
“You called me in the middle of your party?”
“I did. I miss you.”
“I miss you too baby. I love you.”
“I love you too but I have to go now before Niall comes back and steals my phone.” Harry knows you’re not kidding, Niall would very much enjoy barging into your room and taking your phone for the remainder of the trip so he just lets out a soft sigh and clears his throat before telling you goodbye and that he loves you one more time before the two of you hang up.
The next two days seem to drag on as Harry does as much as he can to busy himself as an attempt to give himself a break from checking on you via social media every few minutes. Even going as far as inviting Mitch over for an impromptu writing session that lasted a few hours, and while it helped for a bit but as soon as he was waving bye to his friend as he backed out of the driveway Harry couldn’t help but slide his phone out of his back pocket as soon as he was back inside the house. He lets out a sigh as he paces the length of the couch in the living room, chewing on his bottom lip as his thumb hovers over the icon of the app he’s become very familiar with the past several days. Giving into his desires Harry lets his thumb hit the app bringing him to his home page of his Instagram, he pauses his pacing as he places a hand on his hip and looks off towards the kitchen with a raised brow.
“Have I always been clingy like this?” He mumbles to himself as he contemplates going straight to your profile or looking through one of your friend’s first. “No certainly not? It’s because she’s my fiancé now right?” Normally Harry would feel a bit odd talking to himself but at the moment he can’t be bothered because he needs to have some sort of dialogue going in order to help him not feel as clingy and obsessed with you as he begins tapping his way through Emily, one of your bridesmaids instagram story.
“It’s normal to want to see what your fiancé is doing while away and-what was that?” Harry is caught off guard by what he sees on his screen and it’s gone much too quickly for his liking so he simply taps a few times and brings his phone up closer to his face so he can get a better look at the slightly blurry boomerang on Emily’s story.
Now Harry knew that one of the major things planned for this trip was a boat day, it was the main detail that Niall actually let you help him plan because he didn’t want to pick something to do that you’d be miserable with and honestly who doesn’t enjoy a day relaxing in the sun on a giant boat with a few friends? But what Harry didn’t put together in his mind was that with a boat day comes boat attire, which means he wasn’t at all prepared to see a blurry boomerang of you in what appears to be a white and silver bikini with the word “bride” printed in black on the bottoms in a pretty cursive font while you dance around with a drink in your hand and a bedazzled headband that has a mini veil attached to it. He has no shame in admitting he watches the blurry boomerang about ten times before he finally moves on through the rest of Emily’s story, hoping to see more of your outfit but he’s disappointed when he reaches the end and the only other photo he sees of you is just of your hand holding a drink that showcases your engagement ring with the words “blinded by the bling” and while it makes Harry chuckle it’s not exactly what he’s wanting to see, but that’s when he notices someone familiar in the background and instantly goes to her profile.
“Don’t let me down Gem.” He whispers to himself as he goes to his sister’s Instagram and he smiles when he sees she has quite the long story and most of it is for her close friends meaning it’s probably of the trip she’s currently on with you.
His sister being invited to your bachelorette trip wasn’t shocking, the two of you get along great and she’s in the wedding but Harry won’t lie and say he’s not a little jealous that she gets to be around you right now while he’s stuck at home, hell even his mom is going to be there on the last two days so she can celebrate you agreeing to spend forever with her son. So the least Gemma could do in Harry’s opinion is post some shots of you enjoying your boat day in your lovely little bridal bikini.
“Holy shit.” He reaches down and grabs the back of the couch for support as he finally gets exactly what he’s been looking and hoping for. It’s a photo of you laying out on a lounge chair with a grin on your face and the same heart shaped sunglasses on that he saw you wearing a few days ago and the sun is hitting your swimsuit just right causing the silver bits to shine and you have a slice of watermelon in your hand that isn’t holding a drink and Gem has written “The Watermelon Sugar Bride” and included the song in the background of the story as well. Harry taps through his sister’s story and smiles when he gets to a video of the two of you singing along to one of his songs until you spot Niall and Tammy in the background making funny faces making you tell them to fuck off resulting in Gem saying “excuse me! This is a family show.” And without missing a beat you turn to face her camera and wiggle your eyebrows as you go “or is it?”
“That’s my future wife right there.” Is all Harry says with a grin as he goes through the rest of Gem’s story laughing at the random photos of Niall who constantly looks a little worried as he’s looking at you or one of the girls. He decides to go to Niall’s profile to see what he’s posted recently and he laughs at the captions before liking them.
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It feels as if you’ve been gone for months when really you’ve been gone for five days but Harry can’t hardly contain the excitement he feels knowing you’ll be home tomorrow. He knows you’ve had a great time and really enjoyed yourself, his mom FaceTimed him last night while at dinner so he could see everyone and you looked almost like you were glowing with how adored Harry knew you felt in that moment. You had a smile on your face and a certain sparkle in your eyes that made Harry’s heart swell because you just looked so happy, and since you were coming home tomorrow Niall wasn’t as strict with his rules on communication so it didn’t shock Harry at all when he saw your name flash across his phone screen while he was making coffee.
“Good morning sweetheart.” He says with a smile as he reaches for the sugar next to the coffee maker. He hears you let out a little yawn letting him know you’re probably still tucked in bed, he puts you on speaker so he can spoon some sugar into his mug and stir it in without having to mess with holding the phone up to his ear.
“I can practically smell the coffee through the phone and it’s rude.” You whine making Harry chuckle as he brings the mug up to his lips to take a sip to see if it needs anything else.
“Where’s that bestie of yours hmm? Isn’t he on coffee duty while I’m not around?” He asks after taking another sip and he hears you let out a groan as you roll over to your back.
“He’s so bad at making coffee.”
“I beg your pardon? I make it how a normal human is s’posed to drink it you caffeine goblin.”
“No you make it all watered down and-”
“Watered down? I add two scoops for every four cups of water that’s the proper way to make it.” Harry just goes about his business and pops a bagel into the toaster as you and Niall argue over the right way to make coffee, it doesn’t shock Harry that Niall is with you in bed at such an hour because he’s always been an early riser so of course he’s going to go to your room for some morning cuddles before everyone else wakes up especially since Amelia sadly wasn’t able to stay the whole trip and had to leave a few days early he doesn’t like having an empty bed.
“I’m the bride Niall you’re supposed to just make it how I like it.” Harry raises a brow at your statement and not even a second passes before you’re in a fit of laughter and he can’t help but just shake his head because he knew you weren’t being serious.
“Harry you ready to have her back mate?” Niall asks as he takes the phone from you and Harry just smiles to himself as he takes the bagel from the toaster and puts it on his plate. “Because I’m ready to be rid of her.”
“Oh please you’re going to miss me the moment you drop me off at home and you know it.” Harry laughs at your accusation because if Niall is anything like him then it’s true, he’s going to miss you the moment you’re away from him especially after spending so much time with you on this trip.
“I’m very ready to have her back yes.” Harry answers as he picks up the phone after taking it off speaker. “I’m never letting her go on a trip without me again.” He teases making Niall laugh while he hears you mumble something about him being clingy.
“Well I gotta go make some shit coffee so here’s your missus but make it snappy yeah? We have plans for today.” With that Niall gives you back your phone and Harry hears the sound of a door open and close letting him know you’re alone in your room now.
“I get to see your face tomorrow and I think I might cry because I really have missed you so much and I don’t know why but this trip just-it just made it all feel so real? We get married in just a few months as in you’re going to be my husband and I’m going to really be your wife.” Harry does his best to hold back his emotions as your words hit him, he had a feeling that this trip was going to be a big deal for you because just a few weeks prior you had found your dress and had your first bridal moment so being surrounded by your friends and loved ones all celebrating the fact you’re a bride to be he knew was just going to be a lot. “You really love me enough to want to be with me forever.” He clears his throat and blinks a few times to help get himself in order before he can respond.
“I love you so much that I don’t think forever is actually long enough but it’s a start.” He knows you just rolled your eyes at how corny he sounds but he also knows your cheeks are pink and you have a smile on your face because you love it when he says things like that to you. “I can’t wait to be able to call you my wife. And honestly baby I’ve missed you so much I’ve been stalking you on Instagram all week and I’m probably going to cry the moment I see you get out of Niall’s car because I can’t help it.” He admits with a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair and he smiles when he hears you let out a small chuckle.
“You’re like obsessed with me aren’t you?” You ask with a slight tease to your voice but Harry just shrugs as he grabs his coffee mug and brings it up to his lips.
“Just a little bit.” He answers without hesitation making you smile because even though you don’t say it, both of you know you’re just as obsessed with him.
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deepfrost-citadel · 1 year ago
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"You know," Xisuma said, peering cautiously over Cub's shoulder at the museum's latest addition, "When you said you wanted to show me a new exhibit, I wasn't expecting…" He trailed off.
Evil Xisuma glowered at him from inside their enclosure.
"…This."
To say Evil X looked a little miffed about the situation would be an understatement. At least Cub had done a nice job decorating, Xisuma thought, between the blackstone and crimson wood, Evil X looked right at home - if they weren't sitting grumpily in their 2-by-1 lava pool, surrounded by the mangled remains of whatever Cub had put in there for enrichment.
"Surprise!" Cub grinned, doing jazz hands at the enclosure, "I know what you might be thinking-"
Xisuma doubted that somehow.
"- 'Cub, Evil Xisuma hasn't done anything this season! They aren't a historic artefact! They shouldn't be in a museum!' But!" Cub wagged a finger triumphantly, "They are important to the history of Hermitcraft as a whole. So really, if you think about it, they definitely belong in a museum."
"… Okay?"
"Glad we're on the same page."
Xisuma wasn't sure if anyone was ever on the same page as Cub. Except maybe Scar.
"Now! As you can see, I've been decorating their enclosure, trying to add some interactive elements for guests and such." Cub pointed towards a line of redstone lamps at the top of Evil Xisuma's enclosure, "These show you how much electricity they're generating when they do their lightning hands thing. I'll be honest with you, it's broken a few times already so it's still a work in progress-"
"… Is that what all the lightning rods are for?" Xisuma frowned, eyeing the entirely lightning rod-ed ceiling.
"It is indeed!" Cub said, ignoring the twinge of concern in Xisuma's voice, "Well, a little. Mostly it's a safety thing, it wouldn't be good to have guests being electrocuted, now would it?"
"I suppose not… And it definitely works?"
"Oh yeah, it's been very thoroughly tested. Hey, Evil Xisuma," Cub walked up to the glass and tapped on it a few times, much to Xisuma's silent horror, "Wanna show X how the lightning rods work?"
In response, Evil Xisuma stuck their middle finger up at him and yelled something muffled to almost inaudibility that sounded a little like: "When I get out of here, I'm going to rip your head off and use it as a coffee mug, you stupid e-boy twink."
The pair on the other side of the glass blinked.
"… That's a no then." Cub turned back to Xisuma, "They do this a lot."
"They certainly do," Xisuma nodded faintly.
"You can probably tell the glass is uh... Mostly noise-cancelling, had to install that because Helsknight is in the next enclosure over and he's still hibernating. You know how Wels gets when you wake him up early, don't wanna find out how that guy is."
"… Of course," Xisuma sighed, pinching the nose bridge of his helmet, "Do I want to know how you got hold of those two?"
Cub laughed in the slightly unhinged way that gave Xisuma visions of Cub spending several weeks toying with the evil hermits as he hunted them for sport, "Nah man, it's not an interesting story."
Somehow, Xisuma doubted that.
"Anyway," Cub said, changing the topic before Xisuma could ask if he knew there was still someone's blood on his left sleeve, "What I really called you for is that I need an Evil Xisuma expert, and you're the man to ask about all things Evil Xisuma."
"Except for Evil Xisuma."
"Except for Evil Xisuma, yes." Cub nodded sagely, "So. Obviously I wanna make sure everything is nice for our new residents, give them plenty of enrichment and all that, but it hasn't been working out so far."
"I can see that."
"Soo… Any suggestions? What kind of thing does Evil X like? Food? Blocks? I dunno, fake derpcoin or something?"
Xisuma hummed, tilting his head in thought as he gazed at Evil Xisuma, who had clambered out of the lava pool to press their hands against the glass and give Xisuma the saddest, most pathetic puppy dog eyes their LED screen could muster (which, admittedly, were very sad and pathetic) in a silent plea to not leave them here with that madman, they'll be good for realsies this time they promise-
"Well," Xisuma said, turning to Cub, "They like to knit, so maybe they'd like some wool… Oh! And if you can find any old Wormman merch, they'll love that too."
Evil Xisuma's head hit the glass with a despairing thunk.
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kaces-graham-crackers · 2 months ago
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Stirring the Quiet - Sweet Mistakes
Jenna Ortega x Female Reader
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Summary: In the bustling streets of Hollywood, The Daily Grind café offers solace to those seeking peace—famous or not. Y/N, co-owner of the cozy shop, wasn't expecting a masked Jenna Ortega, a regular, hiding in plain sight. Is it just you, or did the spilled sugar not turn out to be the only thing that sweetened your day?
Word Count: 1.1k
The smell of espresso hit me like a warm hug the second I opened the door to The Daily Grind. We'd only been open for three weeks, but the place already felt like my second home. Wilma, my best friend and now business partner, had really nailed it with the cozy vibe— mix of warm lighting and cushy chairs that practically begged you to sit down and spill your deepest secrets into a cup of coffee. We were doing pretty well for ourselves. A lot of it had to do with how we ran things. We prided ourselves on being a low-key spot where even the biggesr stars could come in and out without anyone batting an eye. No paparazzi, No instagram Stans, just people famous—or not trying to enjoy their coffee.
We've had a few people challenge our "No photos, videos, or interrupting other customers of any caliber." rule—a sign clearly displayed at the top of the menu and outside the café. The moment a camera was raised, we'd calmly walk over and politely ask them to leave. If that didn't work, we had a quiet agreement with the boutique's security guard next door—one glare from him, and they usually scurried off. Our café was a sanctuary, and no one would ruin that for our customers. After all, our motto was "We serve coffee, not fame. Take a sip." Today had been like any other day: customers trickling in, ordering their usual, and leaving with smiles. But something was different tonight. Maybe it was the way the door chimed a little softer than usual or the quick sound of shuffling footsteps. I didn't look up right away, as I was too busy balancing a stack of to-go cups while trying not to trip over that corner of the rug that always seemed to curl up, which, let's be honest, was my usual struggle. But I felt it—a shift in the atmosphere. Someone was trying way too hard not to be noticed. I peeked over my shoulder just in time to catch a figure in a hoodie, sunglasses, and a face mask slipping into the booth in the back corner.
I chuckled lightly, nearly knocking over the cups I had stacked. Of course, someone who tried not to stand out only made them stand out more. But hey, this was Hollywood; people like to stay incognito. I walked up beside Wilma as she finished giving a customer their order. She was also watching the spectacle; Wilma leaned in, wiping her hands on a towel. "That hoodie's been here three times this week. Any hunch who it could be?" We, of course, leave celebrities alone here, but we like to talk between ourselves to try and figure out who it is. I shake my head. "No, but they're definitely someone. No one hides like that unless they're trying not to be recognized." Wilma smirked. "Duh—You can tell by how they keep looking over their shoulder." Our eyes met, and she gave me a knowing look. Her smirk grew into a giant grin. "Your turn, mascot," she said, tossing her towel over her shoulder as she walked away. I blinked, confused. "Wait, what? What is that supposed to mean?" She stopped briefly. "Maybe you'll have better luck talking to them. After all, you are the people's favorite barista and a great icebreaker. She looks anxious, so work your little charisma magic." And with that, she disappeared into the back, leaving me staring at the mysterious figure, wondering how I'd gotten roped into this.
As I walked over, I flipped to a new page in my notepad and repeated my mantra when serving customers: Treat everyone the same, whether they're the guy from down the street or some A-lister hiding from the world. No fuss, no fanfare. I tried to stay calm not to scare them out of the café. There was no need to be weird or awkward about it I'm just going to—oh. As I slid up to the table, I managed to knock over the sugar container. Smooth, Y/N. Real smooth. With a quick glance, I crouched down to pick it up, hoping I hadn't drawn attention to either of us. When I stood back up, the figure in the hoodie had their head down, but I could feel them watching me. Great, now I spooked them. "Uh, sorry about that," I chuckled nervously, brushing the sugar off my apron. "That usually only happens on Wednesdays, more than I'd like to admit." A soft giggle escaped from under the mask. Before I could attempt to piece the giggle to a voice she pulled down her mask just enough for me to see her face.
Jenna Ortega.
I blinked, not sure why my brain of all times decided to short-circuit now.
Jenna—freakin'—Ortega was sitting in my café, laughing at my stupid joke.
"Don't worry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've seen worse." I swallowed, trying to play it cool, even though my hands were suddenly very sweaty. "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. I wasn't expecting..." I trailed off, realizing how dumb I sounded. I mean, who was I expecting? Jenna looked around cautiously, lowering her mask completely once she realized no one had recognized her. "I just...needed to get away for a bit. You guys are pretty discreet." I nodded, my heart still racing. "Yeah, absolutely. This is a judgment-free zone. No one here will treat you like, you know...you." A soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and I tried not to stare. "Good. I could use a place like that right now." "Well, you found it," I said, sending her a warm smile. "Is the other barista not here today?" she asked, fumbling with the strings of her hoodie. "Wilma? Yeah, she's hiding in the back. I can go get her if you'd like?" she softly cleared her throat, "No, that's alright, she just knows my usual." "Well, I promise not to screw it up." I smiled, flipping back to a blank notepad page. "Alright, I'll hold you to that. I'll have an iced coffee with caramel and whipped cream." She smiled back at me. I nodded, jotting it down and turning back to the counter. "Coming right up." As I worked on her drink, I couldn't help but glance back over. There she was, sitting quietly, reading a book with her headphones around her neck, looking a lot more calm. Just another person needing some space and quiet in a world of phones, lights, and cameras 24/7. It felt great that our little café was something special for people. Not just because of the stars who might show up but because we somehow created a space where people could just be. And that? That was worth all the spilled sugar in the world.
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cinnaleaf · 3 months ago
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ESSENCE OF US - CH 1: BRUSH WITH FATE
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Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | READ CH 2 HERE
summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.
warnings: strong language, sexual tension, eventual smut, angst genre: fluff, angst, slow(ish) burn romance, rom-com wc: ~2.1k
a/n: this plot idea came from my love for perfumes and my favorite movie. the thought of this man in disguise is killing meee. wonder what will happen next :)
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The steady hum of the train filled the air as you flipped through your worn, lavender notebook. The page you were on was cluttered with an array of notes you made while at a perfume workshop in London. You spent the past few days blending different types of scents, jotting down ideas, and experimenting with different notes you discovered. It was an exciting point in your career, you had just opened a boutique parfumerie focused on crafting the perfect scents for everyday life. In your hand was one of your favorite samples—bergamot oil. You smiled as you lifted the testing strip to your nose and inhaled the scent. It was the kind of smell that made you think of new beginnings due to its fresh, citrusy nature.
The train ride back to Liverpool had been pretty uneventful so far, and it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself in thoughts. Those were your favorite moments—just you, your notebook and the occasional scent wafting from your perfume kit. Today you were thinking about how to incorporate bergamot into a new custom fragrance. Bergamot was at the top of the scent pyramid, known as the 'prince of citrus', something that was both bold and also fleeting, kind of like life's surprises.
Suddenly the train lurched to a stop and broke you out of your thoughts, you glanced up as you watched more passengers board. One specific passenger caught your eye. A guy wearing an oversized hoodie, a baseball cap pulled low, and..sunglasses?? Indoors? On the train? It made you laugh considering it wasn't even remotely sunny. It was one of those grey days where the sun didn’t want to peek through the clouds at all. Yet there he was, sitting across from you trying very hard to stay anonymous for whatever reason.
You tried to return to your notes, but snuck a view glances at the anonymous stranger. You thought maybe he was just a tourist trying too hard to be different, you’d seen your fair share of interesting ones trying to navigate the train. He was fidgeting with his hoodie, trying to tug it closer to him as if he was some sort of undercover agent. It was kind of amusing to watch but eventually your attention went back to the vials of perfume samples spread across a small table in front of you.
Then he broke the silence:
“A bit bright in here, yeah?” Oh. He wasn’t a tourist. But why was he dressed like that?
You laughed quietly, not expecting him to start up a conversation. “Um, yeah, I guess. The lights in here can be a bit bright..but you look like you’re gearing up for a solar eclipse.” He grinned and decided to play along, “Never know. Could be one any minute.” You shook your head and laughed at his crazy excuse for his ridiculous sunglasses. This guy was definitely entertaining, and also somewhat silly. There was something slightly familiar about him, but you couldn’t quite place it. From what you could see, he had a sharp jawline, well groomed facial hair, golden brown skin, and he seemed extremely athletic based on his lean and muscular stature. His voice sounded familiar, almost like you heard it somewhere else before, but you didn’t know where. Not being able to figure out who he reminded you of was really nagging at you, but at the same time it didn’t matter either. It’s not like you were going to ever see this guy again after getting off the train, no matter how amusing or vaguely familiar he seemed. 
He noticed your small vials on the table as he tilted his head in curiosity. "What's all this?" he asked inquisitively, nodding toward your scattered perfume samples. For some reason you felt a little self conscious now, “Oh. Umm..just some perfume samples. I’m a perfumer. I was just in London for a workshop.” 
“Perfumer??” he paused for a moment as the gears turned in his head, “So you make different scents?”
His genuine interest made you smile, no matter how ridiculous he looked in his outfit. Usually people didn’t understand what your job entailed, and somehow, he was cognizant of it right away. “Yeah, something like that. Smell is one of the only senses that directly affects our memories and emotions y’know? Sometimes you can smell a scent and it just takes you back to where you were when you first smelled it.” 
He looked like he was really listening, despite you not being able to see his eyes, it wasn’t just small talk anymore–he seemed genuinely fascinated. “So what’s this one?” he said as he pointed to the bergamot strip in your hand. 
You held the paper strip up as the scent gently drifted between the two of you. “This? It’s bergamot. It’s usually a top note, sort of like the first impression you get at the first spray. It’s bright, fresh, fades kind of quick…but it leaves something behind. Like a memory.”
He leaned in slightly as he smelled the test strip, “Hmm, bergamot? Never heard of it. But it smells good. Reminds me of good times.”
Your heart instantly skipped a beat at his comment. Who the fuck was this man, why was he dressed like this, and how did he understand everything so perfectly? “Yesss exactly, that’s a perfect description!” you were completely shocked, he was instinctively good at understanding scents like a pro and you had just met him. Something about it was so delightful. You really wanted to know his name, but just as you were about to ask, the train pulled into the next station with a slight screech. He shifted in his seat before getting up and grabbing his bag, “This is my stop” he said as he slung his bag over his shoulder. You noticed the number '66' etched on the bag, but didn't think much of it at the time.
You opened your mouth, ready to ask his name or maybe ask for his number, but for some reason you were feeling shy and held back. Instead, you just smiled, feeling a weird mix of curiosity and hesitation. 
“Good luck with whatever it is you’re preparing for,” you said as you pointed towards his sunglasses with a mischievous smirk. 
“Thanks. I’ll let you know when the eclipse hits.” He grinned playfully as he slipped into the crowd and walked away. It left you feeling strange, you could’ve sworn you’ve heard his voice before but your brain wasn’t connecting the dots just yet. 
You watched him go. He still had his hoodie pulled tight and his sunglasses were still on like some sort of comedic disguise. Even when he slipped out of sight, something about the run in felt unfinished, like a page that was left half written. You felt so weird. He was just a stranger after all. Someone you would never see again, yet you felt like there was still something hanging between the two of you. 
You sighed, sinking back into your seat as the train started to move forward again. The sound of the tracks usually lulled you back into your thoughts, but now it only served as a reminder that a moment had passed. You glanced back at the bergamot oil test strip, lifting it towards your nose as you inhaled the scent that once felt so simple and bright. Now, it certainly had an added layer to it. 
The scent reminded you of the mysterious man you had just met on the train. Fresh, fleeting, and…something left behind, like a memory. You started thinking about how he laughed at your eclipse joke, the way he leaned in slightly when you were explaining what bergamot was, the way he was genuinely interested in what you had to say. 
It wasn’t just the banter though. The way the conversation flowed lightly and unhurried stuck out to you the most. It felt like you had known each other longer than a few minutes. His curiosity in your career was real and not forced. For a moment, it was easy to forget he was some rando on a train wearing an oversized hoodie, a cap, and sunglasses on a gloomy day.
You shook your head while the train swayed gently, watching the grey skies and passing fields blur through the windows as you tried to distract yourself from your thoughts. What the hell was going on? You were never the kind of person to get lost in thought about strangers, especially some weird guy on a train clearly in disguise. But something about it felt so different and you couldn't shake that feeling. The chat was brief, fleeting, and gone as soon as it happened. But now you were sitting alone on the train and his words kept echoing and replaying in your head. 
I'll let you know when the eclipse hits.
Why did he seem so familiar? You kept replaying the interaction in your head, searching for something, anything, that could explain the strange feeling in the back of your mind. His athletic stature, his smile, his voice, and even the way he adjusted the hoodie felt like déjà vu. It felt like you had crossed paths with him or seen him somewhere else before.
But that was ridiculous. He was just some rando on a train. Get a grip girl, you thought to yourself.
After talking yourself down from a mild freak out, you decided maybe that was the charm of it all. Not every interaction had to be a meaningful serendipitous moment with a clear resolution. Some things in life were just fleeting. That was the way they were meant to be—a bold flash of light that disappears and fades into the background. Just like him. 
An idea started growing in your mind. You could create a fragrance that wasn’t just about obvious moments, you could create one for bold and fleeting moments too. The ones that catch you off guard and make your head spin a little, moments that leave you thinking about it long after it’s gone, making you wonder what could have been. Something that signified chance encounters. This was just the creative spark you needed. You grabbed your notebook and began jotting down ideas for the new fragrance almost immediately, your pen gliding across the page as the words spilled onto the paper effortlessly. It felt silly to let a random conversation on a train inspire you like this, but sometimes that’s just how life works. You can’t force creativity, sometimes it just comes from the most unexpected places. 
You glanced at the empty seat where he was sitting just a few minutes ago before continuing to write in your notebook. He almost felt like a ghost that just kept lingering, leaving a little piece of himself behind. You started to picture the finished product of the fragrance you wanted to create. Something vibrant and fresh with something soft that lingered, and a quiet depth that spoke to unexpected moments.
The train was starting to slow as the station platform came into view. You quickly closed your notebook shut and tucked the scent strips in between two pages in your notebook. Your stop was still a ways out but you glanced out the window one last time as the train pulled into the next station. Just as the doors opened you saw a figure flash by that caught your eye—hoodie, cap, sunglasses.
Your breath hitched.
There’s no fucking way. He just got off the train thirty minutes ago.
You leaned in closer to the window with your heart racing as you searched the platform, but whoever it was had already disappeared in the shuffle of passengers. You tried to squint and crane your neck for a better look but there was no use. The train doors closed once again and you sank back into your seat, unsure if you had really seen him at all.
This guy really was a fucking ghost.
Was that even him? Were you delusional? Did you inhale too many chemicals at the workshop?
After another slight panic, you decided it was clear you were making something out of nothing and letting your mind run wild with the thought of what could have been. You were so vexed about not asking for his name, but at the same time it was clear he didn’t really want to be seen…whoever he was. 
You opened your notebook, picking up the strip of bergamot oil one more time as you took in the fresh, citrusy scent. 
Fleeting moments. 
That’s all this was. 
Right?
READ CH 2 HERE
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i hope everyone understands where i'm trying to go with this haha.
if you made it this far, thank you for reading!
*elle
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moralesmilesanhour · 5 months ago
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mad props! 05
summary: you learn a couple new things about Miles as you fall into your new study routine. wc: 1.1k start from the beginning prev next a/n: probs won't update regularly if i'm being transparent but i gotta wrap the story up! so expect more in the coming weeks probably. and before you ask no this does not mean i'm returning to writing reader insert i am just finishing what i started bc i feel like i owe it to my audience ! much love <3
The auditorium was empty during lunchtime, which meant that no one was there to spectate as the sound of your voice echoed through the rows of unoccupied seats. You were working on one of the numbers from the second act.
“It’s not up to me…Just let me be…Legally–”
“I knew I’d find you here.”
You sighed, not needing to look up to know who it was.
“Have you come to take me away?” you asked dryly as you descended down the steps and trudged over to where Miles stood in the middle of the aisle with a smug look on his face.
“You can finish your song, if you want.”
You brushed right past him towards the double doors.
“Stop pretending to be nice.”
Essentially being a teacher’s assistant, Miles had elevator privileges that removed the hassle of climbing up five flights of stairs to reach Mr. Sanchez’s classroom, making it the most (and perhaps the only) pleasant part of the experience.
Sanchez was digging into a bowl of salad when the two of you arrived.
“Ah! Buenas tardes,” he greeted hastily through a mouthful of lettuce. “Thank you for being on time.”
You shoved past Miles and rushed over to the professor’s desk.
“I just have to make up for last week’s missing homework and a couple quizzes, right?”
“Well, yes, but there’s also–”
“Can I just do that at home, then? All due respect, but I really don’t need a partner to–”
“Hold on,” he held up a hand to stop you. “You also have some gaps in understanding when it comes to grammatical concepts such as presente and futuro, missing assignments notwithstanding. You’ll go over those with Miles first before making up last Friday’s quiz independently. Comprende?”
You visibly deflated where you stood. To tell the truth, the different tenses were never your strong suit, but you were able to get away with that with flawless vocabulary memorization and verb conjugation (in the present tense, of course). Now? Not so much.
“Comprende,” you groaned before turning away to grab a seat.
Miles had already taken a chair and pulled it up to one of the desks in the front, and was sitting on it backwards with his notebook in front of him.
“Ready, partner?” he said with a wide, mocking grin. He knew you couldn’t tell him to shut up in front of Sanchez.
You rolled your eyes and sat down with a slump.
“Let’s get it over with.”
He opened his notebook and flipped through a few messy pages before landing on a blank sheet. Sloppily ripping it free from its binding, he took out a Sharpie (which he uncapped with his teeth) and began to draw a line down the middle. 
“What are you doing?”
He began writing a series of words down either side of the line.
“Helping you.”
Miles slid the piece of paper towards you.
It was a verb conjugation chart, labeled ‘Past Tense’ in his strange handwriting that made no distinction between upper and lower-case letters.
“I’m gonna give you a sentence, and you repeat it back to me in the past tense. Then we’re gonna do the same thing in futuro.”
You sulked, “How come you don’t have to memorize anything? You said you don’t even study.”
He gave you a blank, ‘are-you-stupid’ look.
“I speak Spanish.”
“No duh, I mean in every other class. You know the whole periodic table front-to-back.”
“Huh? Oh, photographic memory. I only need to read something once,” he tapped his forehead, “then it’s locked in.”
Stunned, you could do nothing but lean back in your chair and slowly shake your head.
“Absolutely ridiculous.”
The rest of that week had you repeating the same song and dance of trudging into Sanchez’s classroom and running drills with Miles and his impromptu conjugation charts. For every wrong answer, Miles made an incredibly irritating sound that was meant to imitate a game show buzzer, which forced you to pay more attention to minimize how often you had to hear it.
You hated to admit it, but at some point you began to retain the tenses with more ease than before and noticed a steady increase in your quiz grades as a result. 
Thursday after school saw you arrive at an empty auditorium, thirty minutes before rehearsal. Any normal student would spend this extra time studying or doing homework, but you had seen enough flashcards and charts to last you a lifetime. Instead, you pulled out your highlighted copy of the sheet music for ‘Chip on My Shoulder’ and began rehearsing as a one-man ensemble.
Your singing today felt more difficult than usual; the lyrics suddenly felt heavy on your tongue, the notes coming out strained and forced. In the middle of a line, the double doors swung open just as your voice cracked.
“Damn, were you lip-syncing this whole time? You sound rough.”
You rolled your eyes. Of course it had to be him.
Miles sounded nearly out-of-breath as he strolled past you, his uniform rumpled shirt and un-tucked, as if he’d just put it on. The band-aid on his forehead was joined by another, more colorful one on his cheek. 
“As if you could do better,” you scoffed as you watched him toss his bag onto an empty chair two seats away from where you sat.
He looked up with a mischievous grin.
“I could.”
“Oh?” You smirked and shoved the sheet music into his face. “Try it, then.”
Miles squinted at it before pushing it away.
“Pfft, this song is lightwork. I don’t need that.”
“Alright, then recite your lines. I’ll start,” you inhaled deeply and held up the lyrics. “ ‘You came out here–’”
“‘To follow a man? Harvard Law was part of that plan? Man, what rich, romantic planet are you from?’”
Startled by his near-perfect pitch, you stuttered, lowering the sheet of paper a bit to give Miles an odd look. 
He continued, “ ‘Instead of lying outside by the pool, you stalk some guy to an Ivy League School’...et cetera.”
You blinked in utter disbelief. Miles’ voice had a tone as clear as a bell, and flawless diction to match. If he had auditioned, he would’ve been a shoe-in.
“...Huh. You sing? Like, actually?”
He shrugged, “I used to lead the choir at church, but not anymore.”
Just as he finished his sentence, Sarah followed by a handful of tech kids began trickling into the auditorium.
“Oh, sweet, you guys are early!” Sarah nodded, making two check marks on her clipboard as her bag hung off of one shoulder. “Miles, d’you wanna help figure out the lighting situation for the show? Josh said you were good with color.”
“Sure, not a problem.”
“You’re amazing, dude. I don’t know how we would’ve gotten those sets done without you.”
“All in a day’s work!”
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viktoriaashleyyx · 5 months ago
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Why do some of us not *hate* Tamlin?
I am pro-tamlin, not pro feylin. I would prefer Tamlin to never have to deal with the NC ever again. If SJM never types his name out again I will be happy.
Tw: light mentions to DV, SA, and Divorce.
Feyre is written in a way that makes it feel like she is intentionally manipulating us against Tamlin to justify her leaving him the way she did, and to put Rhysand up on a pedestal.
The abrupt and sloppy way SJM handled Tamlins' character assassination induced my fight or flight. Let me explain:
My parents divorced when I was 4, and I had to learn, quickly, how to interpret people's true intentions and empathize with where they are coming from vs just blindly listening to someones account of what happened. My father got custody of us and would use the same elements against my mom that Feyre uses against Tamlin. I HAVE to read between the lines or I would fall to the intentional manipulation.
"She left me so she probably cheated" "he trapped me in the house" "she has a new boyfriend so she doesn't care about you anymore" "he hit me [when I was actively TRYING to get him to hit me to sway public opinion of him]"
Everytime Feyre left for the NC, she did so kicking and screaming. Every indication Tamlin could see was that she did NOT want to go with Rhys, until he gets a letter from her saying to not come looking for her that she doesn't want to be with him. Tamlin didn't know she could read or write. Had that been my love I would assume it was a ransom note too, written by someone else. Had she actually spent 1 hr winnowing to Tamlin, tell him face to face, then winnow back (with an escort) he MIGHT have gotten the hint.
A tithe was a weird thing to use to show how cruel Tamlin is, considering how 2/3 of the night court live in constant fear, children's bones are broken for misbehaving, the CoN are trapped there. SJM really showed us that she has no political knowledge what so ever. I barely started ACOFAS and when Feyres talking about the unnatural sum of her money, my first thought is "You don't amass that level of wealth without oppressing someone." Lucien said that Tamlin would be expected to hunt down those not able to pay the tithe, but when we get to Tamlins actual actions he just said "get it together in 3 days or pay double next time". In my initial reading, I interpreted it as another mask (like how Rhysand acts). Tamlin does this due to tradition, he is expected to act a certain way, but *I felt* he had no intention of acting out what he said. It was just a line he was expected to say to send the wraith away without others expecting the same.
Feyre and Tamlin were not right for eachother because they were not eachothers mates. People can exist fine separately, and be incredibly toxic together. From page 1 we see Feyres inherent inability to empathize with anyone, she has it bad, she has to hunt, therefore her sisters don't do anything. But she also can't cook, so who was preparing the meat she brought home? It gave me "housework isn't real work" vibes. Feyre also doesn't communicate very well, which would explain why a literal mind reader was able to help her better than Tamlin was. I saw Tamlin trying but not being able to help her because he couldn't read her mind.
Feyre didn't want to be trapped in a manor for a few hours while she was displaying manic behavior, but she condoned her sisters be trapped in the HOW for 6 weeks immediately after losing their lives. She condones the treatment of the people in Hewn city and supports the literal Jim Crow laws placed against them in Velaris when all they wanted was to leave. She condones and supports trapping Nesta in HoW after the war just to force Cassain on her so Feyre can play matchmaker.
Feyre is an inherently self centered sociopath. She can read minds and still can't develop a shred of empathy.
Just leave Tamlin alone. Damn.
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justwritedreams · 6 months ago
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Welcome to the Kingdom | Jeno
Chapter Thirteen: The bittersweet honeymoon
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Prince Jeno x Princess Reader, enemies to lovers au!, royalty au!
Word count: 3686
Genre: smut
Author: maari
Warnings: thigh riding, masturbation (m), dirty talk MDI!!! THIS IS A +18 STORY
Note: So hehehe I kind of dreamed about it I'm not that proud of this chapter but I needed to post it
Summary: The honeymoon will begin. Who will give in first?
<<< Previous | Masterlist |
⪢ NCT Masterlist
Taglist: @floweronacloud, @cookydream, @travelleratheart101, @ilvaussie, @tyongf-sunflower99​, @mings-cafe ,  @n0hyuck , @waltermitty97 , @jihoonismydad , @madaboutjunmyeon , @actually-vl   , @neomooniez, @pvppyhao , @ikayyyyyy (can’t tag you honey 😞), @everloving-avenue , @moonchele , @markspossibilities , @yyangj3lly
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The princess snorted loudly and crossed her arms, although it was a very childish attitude she didn't care even when she heard Jeno's amused laugh.
Okay, she understood the need to only travel the next day, now having to sleep with Jeno in the same room was already too much!
She wanted to have one last night sleeping alone, with her thoughts, her dreams... She wasn't expecting to sleep in the same room as Jeno so quickly.
“Daughter, please, you know that we hired new employees mainly to serve the wedding party, if any of them find out that you sleep in separate rooms, can you imagine what will happen next?”
She ran her hand over her face, frustrated. Of course she understood what her mother meant.
It was obvious that as soon as anyone noticed that she and Jeno weren’t really in love, the next morning all the tabloids would put on the front page the farce that was the love between the new Romeo and the new Juliet. And newlyweds sleeping in separate rooms would be the worst proof.
She didn't want to start her reign, which hadn't even started yet, like this. With her face printed in the media along with a fake stamp.
"All right mother." she agreed, giving up. “What time will we leave tomorrow?”
“After breakfast, please be ready.”
They both nodded and the queen said goodbye, leaving the room quickly. Y/N took a deep breath before turning around, finding Jeno next to the bed with an amused smile on his face.
She held his gaze, swallowing whatever anxiety had settled in the pit of her stomach. They would just sleep, that's all.
So what if she was thinking about the kiss that hadn't even happened? She was going to be fine… or at least that's what she thought.
"You can take your clothes off." he said before throwing himself on the princess's bed, who looked at him in shock and felt her legs tremble.
Jeno was back with that bossy tone.
"What?" Her voice became thinner and louder, eliciting a sideways smile from Jeno.
“Do you want to sleep in your wedding dress?” he asked, feigning naivety. “If you can do it, that’s fine with me, the bed is big enough for that.”
The princess wanted to beat herself up for the very thoughts that dominated her in those few seconds.
She took a deep breath and swallowed the answer she wanted to give, going to the closet in silence feeling her ears burning.
"Idiot." she whispered to herself as she heard Jeno laugh in the room.
He was in such a good mood that it was irritating her but a mischievous smile appeared on the princess's face as soon as she looked at one of her nightgowns.
Oh she would torture Jeno.
She picked up her clothes and went to the bathroom in silence, with a frown on her face the entire way so Jeno would think she was still mad.
“Do you want help?” She heard his voice tease as soon as she reached the bathroom, she didn't respond at all and closed the door tightly.
She looked in the mirror and the sparkle of fun was in her eyes. The princess had a hard time taking off the dress herself, she had dismissed the maids, but she managed it after a long time. She undid her braid and took off all her accessories, her hair in thick curls fell in front of her bust and she put it back, took off her makeup and put on her nightgown.
Smiling victoriously, she admired her own figure in the mirror.
The white silk nightgown was short, barely reaching mid-thigh, the breast part of the fabric only covered her nipples because everything else was made of lace, enough to see her skin.
She took the opportunity to put on a white robe but left the front exposed. She wanted to show off and that's exactly what she did when she came out of the bathroom, she paused dramatically so Jeno could get a good look at her and she held back her laughter when he choked on his own saliva.
He seemed surprised and very interested in his wife's figure, enough to move off the bed to take a better look.
The princess walked normally to the other side of the bed while Jeno's eyes were fixed on her, she knew that any sudden movement would make him have a clear view of her bust and that was why she pulled two pillows from the bed and threw them at him, which astonished, he couldn't even defend himself.
Jeno removed the pillows from his face and looked at the princess in confusion.
"What?"
"Pardon?"
“You’ll need them to sleep on the floor.” She crossed her arms and Jeno got lost in the movement, he didn't even hide it when he swallowed hard.
She was finding this all amusing.
Y/N huffed, bringing her hands to her waist, attracting Jeno's hungry eyes even more.
“Isn’t it obvious to you?” she asked but he didn't respond, visibly more interested in looking at her. “You’re going to sleep on the floor!”
He blinked a few times and his eyes returned to looking at the princess's face, she had a false serious expression.
"Huh?" That's what he said and she reached for the bedroom carpet. "Sure." He chuckled, placing the pillows on the bed.
"Do you think I’m joking?”
“Damn I’m going to sleep on the floor.” He lay on the bed with his arms crossed behind his head and she laughed in disbelief.
“Okay, then I’ll go.” she made to pull the other pillows that were underneath Jeno and he stopped her.
“How old are you, princess?” She raised her eyebrow. “The bed is big enough for both of us, I won’t grab you in the middle of the night.” she narrowed her eyes. “Unless you ask.” he winked and she rolled her eyes.
Unconsciously she would ask yes.
“Good night, Jeno.”
Y/N got under the blanket after getting rid of the robe and was about to pull the pillow when Jeno got up, she smiled victoriously thinking he was going to sleep on the floor but the smile was quickly undone when he started taking off his clothes, starting with the pants.
“Wow, what are you doing?” She sat on the bed, forcing her eyes to look only at his face. In vain, of course.
“Do I really need to answer?” he pointed to his own body and saw the princess open her mouth to respond but he interrupted her by taking off the rest of the clothes that covered his chest.
Y/N held her breath when she saw Jeno practically naked in front of her, he was only wearing black boxers and just as he had admired her body, it was her turn to do the same.
Mainly because Jeno seemed slightly hard.
“If you are cold at night, you can hug me.” he suggested, smiling mischievously and loving the fact that she admired him so exposed like that.
“I’m going to smother you with the pillow.” she said, trying to hide the embarrassment of having been so shameless in front of him.
Y/N turned her back to Jeno and lay down again, fighting with all her strength not to turn over and look at Jeno lying on her bed.
It was too tempting to have him there by her side.
Y/N held her breath as she felt the bed dip next to her and Jeno's heat approached her back, something in her stomach happened and it wasn't anxiety.
“Dream with me, princess.” he whispered in her ear and she closed her eyes so that no sound would come out of her mouth.
Who was torturing who that night?
[...]
The princess began to regain consciousness little by little, the room was still dark and hot, that's why she buried her face even more in the pillow. She wanted to enjoy a few minutes before getting up, but she felt something soft against her nose and opened her eyes at the same moment.
Coming face to face with Jeno sleeping next to her, with his face pressed against hers because his head was on the same pillow that Y/N was using. Her eyes widened when she realized what had happened, she had accidentally given him an Eskimo kiss.
When she saw that Jeno was moving in bed, about to wake up, she moved away abruptly, trying to keep a safe distance from his body.
With so many pillows on that bed, had they slept for who knows how long in the same one? It had to be a joke, really.
She got up from the bed, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs and took a deep breath to control the need to rub her thighs together. All she needed was to get excited first thing in the morning with Jeno by her side!
Annoyed with herself, she went to get ready for breakfast. She knew that the chalet was on top of a mountain, far from the big city, and the weather was slightly colder compared to the previous day, so that's why she put on dark clothes, a long leather skirt with a slit on the right leg, a blouse with long sleeves in a brown tone and black boots.
When she returned to the room Jeno was still sleeping, with his arms stretched up and his torso exposed, she almost left the room and left him there, until she remembered her obligations and took a deep breath before going to him.
“Jeno.” she called out to him, briefly touching his shoulder. “Get up.” she saw him complain but didn't wake up. “Hurry up, we don’t have all morning.”
The princess used a little more force against his shoulder and Jeno opened one eye, watching Y/N.
“If I pull you, will you stop pushing me?” Y/N felt the back of her neck crawl from Jeno's hoarse voice, her hands started to sweat and she faltered.
"Stop being an idiot." she pulled away completely and Jeno woke up, interested in looking her up and down. “I can't go down without you.”
He smirked.
“Ah, the beauty of marriage.” he hummed and she crossed her arms.
“You have five minutes to get dressed.” she ordered and went to the other end of the bed, waiting.
"Good day to you too. I slept very well and you?” he said ironically and got up from the bed.
Y/N looked away from Jeno's body and scratched the back of her head, feigning interest in a fixed spot in the room, anywhere that wasn't his boxers and his dic-
“What’s the cabin like?” Jeno asked interested.
“Cold, so if you're thinking about wearing a black tank top, I suggest you think about something else.” Y/N replied without looking at him and heard his light laugh. "What?"
“Don’t worry, only you will see me in a tank top from now on.” the princess looked at him and Jeno winked at her.
"I don't care." she shrugged, feigning indifference.
Jeno laughed but didn't say anything, he went to the closet that already had some of his clothes there and got dressed quickly, also dark clothes, a black button-down shirt that he rolled up the sleeves to the elbow and a pair of jeans, he picked up a dark coat and then went to the bathroom to wash his face and mess up his hair.
At the coffee with the queen and the king there was no other topic other than the wedding, all the leaders of the allied countries and even those who weren’t considered friends of the kingdom had been present, sealing for the time being the peace they had sought with that alliance.
As soon as they finished, the bags were already in the car and the princess said goodbye to her parents with a hug while Jeno just nodded.
Y/N had her hands together while Jeno kept his palms on top of his knees, even the driver was feeling the tension between them, so the ride to the cabin was in complete silence.
To deny the tension would also be to deny the discreet looks that they both directed at each other.
The princess was worried, this was remarkable, she would be alone with Jeno in the chalet for a week. No employees, no parents, no press. She had no idea what to expect and worse, she didn't know what could happen.
Not giving in to temptation in the castle was easy because the place was big enough to not even bump into him, but in the chalet it would be different. Not only did they bump into each other, they would sleep in the same room.
And on top of that it was their honeymoon.
Even though she tried not to put pressure on herself about it, after all it was just a political alliance between the two kingdoms, she couldn't help but get goosebumps every time she remembered why they were going so far away.
The driver helped Jeno take the bags out of the car while Y/N went ahead hugging herself because of the cold and anxiety. The chalet was freezing when they entered and the driver left quickly.
Y/N went to the pantry to get some wood scraps to put on the fireplace while Jeno opened the curtains.
“How long has it been since you’ve been here?” Jeno asked as soon as Y/N lit the fireplace, she stood in front of the fire and rubbed her hands together.
She sighed, trying not to get lost in the memories.
“Longer than I would have liked.” was what she replied and Jeno walked over to warm up like her.
While he stared at her without hiding, the princess kept her eyes fixed on the fireplace, her heart racing every second that Jeno looked at her.
"Stop with that." she asked, quietly.
"What?"
“Staring at me like that as if I’m a…” Y/N looked at Jeno who raised his eyebrow, waiting for the answer, she swallowed and looked away. “prey.”
Jeno laughed lightly.
"You’re nervous."
"No I'm not."
“Then why are you sweating?” he questioned as Y/N felt sweat run down the back of her neck, uncomfortable that she was being so obvious to him, she crossed her arms.
"Heat." was the first thing she responded and she wanted to beat herself up for it.
She was hot, but not because of the fireplace.
“Everything would be so much easier if you admitted it.”
She snorted.
“Admit what?” her voice got slightly louder and Jeno approached with slow steps, stopping so close to her that their bodies were almost touching.
“That I can help you as much as you can help me.” Jeno's low tone was seductive, it made her legs tremble, but she wasn't going to give in that easily.
“You said you would only kiss me when I begged you and you know I won’t do that, Jeno.” she raised her eyebrow, defiant, and Jeno fixed his eyes on her mouth.
"You are." he said with certainty. “Not today, maybe not tomorrow but you will.” She opened her mouth to retort but he shut her up, bringing his hand to her lips, catching her off guard with the touch. “But I wasn’t referring to kissing you.”
She narrowed her eyes.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, quietly, unable to take her eyes off his face.
Jeno took his free hand to the princess's waist and pulled her along with him, going backwards to the sofa, the princess was reluctant when he sat down, feeling him putting pressure on her waist so she could do the same, but Jeno was more insistent and made her sit on his lap.
"What are you doing?" She made to get up, resting her hands on his shoulder but Jeno brought his other hand to her waist, keeping her sitting there on his lap.
“Do whatever you want, princess. You no longer need to rub your own thighs.” Y/N felt breathless as she understood what Jeno was trying to do.
Did he want her to relieve herself on his lap?
Y/N felt a fire rise from her lower belly to her face, not only from embarrassment but from it being a very tempting alternative. Jeno was hot, she was sitting on top of his thigh which seemed to be much more toned than she remembered, his perfume and such closeness was causing the bottom of her panties to get wet.
Jeno brought his face closer to Y/N's ear, who remained static, she was afraid he could hear how hard her heart was beating.
“Do you know what I dreamed about last night?” he spoke quietly and she held her breath, not knowing what to say. “That you touched yourself on my lap.” the princess rolled her eyes and closed them completely as she bit her lip. “Make it come true, princess.”
Although she managed to contain her moan, it was impossible to stop her hips from rolling against his leg, Jeno squeezed her waist as if he approved the movement.
At that moment, the princess's rational side was being completely ignored and even though the skirt was in the way of making the friction even more pleasurable, she didn't care.
All she needed and wanted was for that knot that was in her womb to cease at once. And it wasn't like she could deny that she and Jeno had gone there for that very reason, even if they hated each other.
Y/N felt Jeno's fingers move her skirt aside and she rocked harder, earning a grunt of approval from him. She felt the fabric of his jeans rub against the already wet fabric of her panties and that only became an incentive for her to keep the slow and delicious pace.
His hands went to her hips to steady her on his lap and Y/N grabbed his shoulder tighter when he started whispering dirty things in her ear. The princess wanted to feel ashamed for soaking Jeno's thigh while rubbing her hips but all she felt was more desire to continue.
She didn't want modesty, she just wanted to cum.
Y/N's breathing began to become labored as she felt that her climax was close, she closed her eyes while her whole body shook, Jeno didn't stop talking for a single second, encouraging her, watching the delicious and desperate way in which she rolled her lap.
When Jeno kissed her neck in a wet way, it was enough for her to grab his shoulder as she came against his thigh. With her legs shaking from the spasms, she was unable to get up from Jeno's lap and was too embarrassed to look him in the eyes, this wasn’t a problem however as Jeno held her by the waist and got up from the sofa with her still in his lap.
The princess looked anywhere in the cabin, except Jeno, but she let him carry her to the bed. He laid her down on the mattress and she raised her eyebrow when she saw him undo the belt on his pants and swallowed hard when she realized how hard he was, she had been so busy chasing her orgasm that she hadn't noticed that he was as excited as she was.
“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to you.”
She felt a slight pang of disappointment but looked at him curious to know what he was going to do. Jeno put his hand inside his underwear and the princess felt her jaw drop when she saw him start to touch himself in front of her. He didn't get rid of his underwear so all Y/N could do was imagine what he looked like, it was enough for her to start salivating and think how much she would like to have a full view of his dick, which didn't happen.
But even so, it didn't stop the cabin's temperature from rising even more, mainly because Jeno couldn't take his eyes off her and Y/N couldn't take her eyes off the expression of pleasure he was making, mouth partially open, eyebrows furrowed, sweat dripping down his forehead.
Y/N was mesmerized by Jeno, the more he moved his hand the more she felt her panties getting even more soaked, she never thought that seeing Jeno touching himself so close to her would be so hot and involuntarily she began to rub her legs against each other, making Jeno moan softly.
“Do me a favor.” he pleaded and she looked at him, panting, it seemed like his fingers were inside her. “Pull off your panties.” Y/N brought her finger to her mouth and bit it to stifle her moan, his voice was so sexy that she couldn't deny him anything. “Let me see how wet you are.”
She nodded and removed her panties, opening her legs and giving Jeno a privileged view of her wet pussy.
He groaned, throwing his head back as he accelerated the movement of his hand on his dick, Y/N felt so hot and so immersed in Jeno that she couldn't do anything but watch him chase his own orgasm.
It was so hot to see him bite his lip hard while watching her pulsate for him, she could cum a second time just watching him touch himself in front of her.
Jeno moaned as he came, the princess even imagined what was going on in his head while he saw her wet pussy because it was the same thing that was going on in her head.
“I promise you, whatever happens here stays here.” she looked him in the eyes and almost actually came when their eyes met, there was a fire of desire visible there. “Nothing will change our reality in the castle.”
Wouldn't it really change?
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moonsandmobilityaids · 1 month ago
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Moving In
Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: You realise that the boys have accidentallyl moved their things into your accessible bedroom off the common room. Warnings: N/A Series Masterlist
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You are in your room, bundled under a pile of blankets, watching the soft glow from the fire dance across the stone walls. It's freezing outside—the snow is falling hard, and you can tell by the frost creeping up the window panes. You know better than to venture out into such weather, not without expecting the pain that will inevitably follow. So here you are, tucked away in the warmth of your room, the cold held at bay by the thick castle walls.
Remus is perched at the foot of the bed, his eyes scanning the pages of a book he's brought along, his hand occasionally brushing against your foot under the covers. James is lying beside you, his arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against the side of your face. His glasses sit askew on his nose, and you can hear the steady rhythm of his breathing as he fights off sleep. And Sirius—Sirius is probably rifling through your wardrobe right now, looking for something comfortable to wear, even though half his clothes have already found their way into your drawers.
"Hey," James murmurs, his voice low and a little hoarse from sleep. His glasses slip further down his nose as he cracks open an eye to look at you. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth when he sees you watching him. "You okay, love?"
You nod, shifting slightly under the weight of his arm draped across your chest, but something catches your attention, pulling your gaze away from James. Your desk is stacked with textbooks you didn't bring, and a few of Remus's shirts hang over the back of your chair, oddly at home in their new surroundings. In the corner near the wardrobe, there's a small pile of shoes—three pairs of boots, a pair of trainers, and one of your slippers. You blink, confusion knitting your brows together.
When did that happen?
Your eyes scan the room, taking in every detail. Sirius's leather jacket is draped over the back of your wheelchair, a silent guard against the chill. That's definitely James's Quidditch jersey folded on the arm of the armchair, and you're almost certain those extra pillows propping you up weren't there before—pillows that smell faintly of the boys. A stack of parchment rests on the nightstand, James's handwriting scrawled across the top sheet, and beside it sits an extra mug, once brimming with tea, now cold.
It hits you all at once. They’ve moved in.
Not officially, with suitcases and announcements, but gradually, piece by piece, as if it’s the most natural thing. Remus’s books, Sirius’s clothes, James’s papers—they’ve all found a place here. Your room isn’t just yours anymore; it’s a shared space where they feel at home too.
Remus looks up from his book, sensing your thoughts. “What’s on your mind, love?”
You blink at him, still processing, and then glance around the room again. “When did you guys move in?” you ask, your voice soft but curious.
James chuckles softly next to you, his hand rubbing slow circles over your hip. “Move in? We haven’t moved in.”
Yet even as he denies it, his fingers tighten around the edge of the blanket, pulling it further across both your bodies. The action is simple, unthinking—a gesture that speaks volumes about how comfortably he's settled into this shared space.
"You have more clothes here than I do," you retort, eyes flicking towards Sirius who emerges from the bathroom then, one of your robes knotted loosely at his waist. He grins at you, unabashed.
"What's mine is yours, love," he throws back with a wink, padding over to the bed and flopping down next to you with an exaggerated sigh. The mattress dips under his weight, rebounding slightly when he adjusts himself, winding his legs with yours in a move that feels far too practised to be casual.
"No, but seriously—look around." You gesture vaguely at the room, laughter bubbling up from your chest despite the situation's absurdity. "You've all but moved in. How did I not notice before?"
Remus, perched at the foot of the bed, shuts his book with a soft thud, placing it carefully on the bedside table. "I suppose we didn't think much of it either," he admits, leaning back against the wooden headboard. "One thing led to another, and well… here we are."
James's lips press gently to the top of your head, a silent vow of protection. "Is that alright with you, love?"
You pause, taking in the sight of them in your room—their strong figures bathed in the soft glow from the fire. Warmth radiates not only from the flames but from their presence, the way they inhabit your space as if they've always belonged. As if this room was always meant for more than just one.
A smile tugs at your lips, and you snuggle closer into James's embrace while Sirius settles on your other side. "Yeah," you whisper, your voice hardly more than a breath. "Yeah, it's more than alright."
And it is. With them here, this room—your room—feels fuller, brighter, even against the stark contrast of winter outside. It's no longer just yours; it belongs to them too. And that makes it feel more like home than ever before.
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silly-of-the-str1ng · 4 days ago
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Dream come True?
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A/N: this is the first fic i've written in little over a year so feel free to lmk what you think with a comment or two! also some word/spelling errors, i made this while sick at 11pm 😭🙏
warning: none :3
word count: 1.1k
summary: your dream of going to Billie's show suddenly becomes a reality
part 2
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You had been listening to Billie’s new album ‘HIT ME HARD AND SOFT’ ever since it had been released, over and over and over, and well you get the point.
And when you heard Billie was going on tour?- you nearly cried, well no- you did cry, a lot at that.. but as usual the universe wasn't on your side.
“No- No, No, No, NO!-” you practically screamed as you scrolled down to the New York shows, desperately refreshing the page as if the big bold letters “SOLD OUT” would disappear. You had never even had a chance to try and even go to any of her shows even once, you were pretty tight on money due to New york’s crazy prices for just about everything and the moment you had saved up enough money to buy a show ticket? of course you wouldn't be quick enough to get one or even try.
You slammed your head down on your mattress, whining pretty pathetically as your best friend, Amber awkwardly sat next to you, looking up from her phone where she was texting her boyfriend. She sighed softly and shook her head as she tilted down to meet your sad eyes, “all sold out already?”
“yes…” you grumbled, shoving your face into your comforter. “You should at least expect it somewhat, I mean she's Billie Eilish for goodness sake….” Amber hummed as she went back to messaging Lucas.
You sat up slightly, resting your chin on your palm, “I know!” you groaned as you rubbed at your eyes clean of your stupid tears, it felt so stupid to cry over someone who didn't know you at all and you'd never have the chance of meeting, but here you were-
“I just!- She coming to New York three times, Amber! THREE!! and every single show is sold out in under the first day it seems like!” you wailed as you shoved your face back into your blanket.
Amber sighed softly, setting down her phone and gently placing her hand on your back, rubbing soft circles over it- “You know, maybe it's for the best… I mean you'd probably explode if you even had a chance to see Billie in person-” Amber offered, making you scoff harshly.
You wanted nothing more, you'd sell your soul if you had to- or your car…
—-
That was a few weeks ago now, you were still mourning the loss of course but you still had to go to work- so here you were clocking in to your mom's bakery for the oh so convenient shift of 4AM… like anyone was actually up at this time but you had to start making the pastries for the day.
You kneaded at the dough, softly grunting as you rolled it out and cut the dough, shaping it into croissants and setting it on the tray. Though the soft ringing of the front entry door opening and closing caught your attention.
“Seriously…?” you sourly muttered to yourself, who the hell is up at 4:28 in the morning getting breakfast?!- you walked out from the back, sighing excessively as you spoke in a pretty harsh tone-
“Sorry if your here for any pastries you'll have to wait another two hours or so-” though when you met the eyes of the woman who walked in you were shocked-
Billie
fucking
Eilish.
“Oh, no worries- I can wait, I don't have to be anywhere today thankfully,” she shrugged confidently as she met your eyes, those bright blue eyes staring back into yours. You felt your face naturally go red from embarrassment.
You stood there awkwardly before letting out a forced chuckle, “I-I don't want to having to wait in here all by yourself while I make stuff- that'd be kind of rude considering your, well-”
“Billie Eilish?” she finished with a soft smile.
“...yeah…” you mumbled in an almost embarrassed way, well no- it WAS in an embarrassed way, 100 percent.
Though she just simply sat down in one of the booths, crossing her legs, “I may be a singer but that doesn't mean i'm not human enough to not really care-” she chuckled softly, making your heart jump.
“Right- sorry-” You quickly replied.
“I, take it you're a fan?” she asked, not prying but just genuinely looking to see what she was to you in a way. “Uh yeah!-” you awkwardly smiled, “I tried to get a ticket to any of the shows your having here but you know-” you died off at the end, rubbing the back of your neck with the hand that was still completely covered in flour.
“Oh- for real? Do you want one or something? I can just get you set up.” she offered, making you do a double take.
“A-Are you serious?-”
“Yeah, it's easy, I can get you up front too, if you want, I know that some people are sensitive to the bass.” she hummed, pulling out her phone to do god knows what. Then she met your eyes again, tilting her head to the side slightly as if you were just as regular as a friend to her. “So?”
You were star struck, you didn't even know what to say. On the more obvious hand, this was Billie Eilish offering you a completely free ticket to one of her shows, you had to yes. But on the more annoying hand that wanted to have some sort of confidence for some version- you wanted to say no.
“uhhh… i don't think so- I mean it's asking a lot from you really-”
“Nah it's fine, i'll just get you a VIP pass, just tell someone in security to go get me, I know they probably won't listen but if I hear about someone being annoying i'll assume it's probably you-” Billie chuckled.
“...u-uh- okay…”
There was an awkward silence, your shoes squeaking against the floor before Billie spoke up again, “on second thought- i'll just have someone come pick it up… You've got a nice place here but I'd rather not sit down in silence by myself today…” and this time you let out a small genuine laugh, “I hear you.”
Billie stood up and walked over to the counter where you stood behind, “Nice meeting you by the way, most fans I meet are kinda crazy about seeing me,” She chuckled. “Oh believe me i'm going crazy inside.” You scoffed, making her smile. “Well, I'm gonna dip, maybe see you round…?” she shrugged. “Yeah, maybe…” you repeated as she walked over to the front door and opened it. though she looked back- “oh I didn't catch your name.”
“oh- it's Y/N.”
“Y/N… Nice name,” Billie hummed before she walked out, the bell ringing softly of her exit. you stood there in silence before quickly picking up your phone and speed dialing Amber's number.
“Amber-HOLY SHIT YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED-”
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writingquestionsanswered · 5 months ago
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Worried About Traction/Why Write?
Anonymous asked: Okay answer me this, so I've read how trad publishing is going to shit, but self-publishing I doubt I could gain any traction with. Then why fucking write, ya know? People say, "write for yourself," which sounds like a lot of goody bullshit. I want people to love my writing, I need some type of validation. So, how the hell do I get anyone to care about my stories?
Just a quick note that this ask came in off Anon, and I wasn't sure if it was meant to, so I put I'm posting it Anon to be on the safe side.
So, I don't want to get too much into the "is traditional publishing dying" debacle, because it's a conversation that's complex and nuanced and outside of my energy reserves at the moment. What I will say is that the traditional publishers--the Big Five in particular--still dominate the market, especially where print books are concerned. And although self-publishing can respond more quickly to trends and shifting tastes, traditional publishing continues to evolve.
Having said that, even if traditional publishing was stronger than ever before, that wouldn't guarantee you a book deal. Even in the best of times, the odds of being traditionally published are between 1 and 2%. Even if you get a book deal, that doesn't guarantee your book will be a best-seller. Hundreds of thousands of books are traditionally published every year, and far fewer than 1% of those books will become best sellers. Being traditionally published doesn't even guarantee your book will be sold in brick and mortar bookstores. I can point you toward traditionally published books that have been out almost a year and still have fewer than 10 reviews on Amazon. I can point you toward many more with fewer than 30.
And, while we're on the subject, I can show you self-published books with thousands of reviews (positive ones, btw...)
The point is, it doesn't really matter how you publish. What you write, how you write, and how you market is far, far more important. But the reality is, most of us aren't writing the kinds of books that are going to be best-sellers, BookTok sensations, Oprah's Book Club selections, or get optioned for film rights before the ink on the book deal is even dry. So, when you say you need validation, what does that look like for you? Does it mean seeing your name at the top of the NYT best seller list for five weeks straight? Seeing your book on eye-level shelves at an international airport? Hundreds of fans showing up to your book signing? A-hundred thousand followers on Twitter eagerly awaiting news of your next release? Or, does it look like someone... anyone... enjoying your book enough to leave a 5-star review... someone calling you their favorite writer, several fans re-posting your cover reveal because they're so excited for your upcoming book, or someone writing to say your book got them through a difficult time in their lives? Because, while I would never tell you not to dare to dream of achieving the former list of expectations, I will absolutely tell you the latter list of expectations is well within your grasp. So, if that's validation enough for you, write for those people. If it isn't, and it's not enough to write for yourself, then I think all you can do is try. Write the best stories you can write. Get them out there. Promote the hell out of them and see what happens. Maybe you will be one of those lucky few who see their book at the top of the NYT best seller list for five weeks in a row. Or, maybe you won't, but you get a two-page e-mail from a fan who says your story changed their life. And maybe, after all, that's enough. Here are some posts that can help you start building a following ahead of publishing, whatever route you end up choosing. Building a buzz on social media ahead of publishing and consistent promotion afterward can make a big difference. Even if you publish traditionally. Guide: Getting Your Writing Noticed on Tumblr Guide: Author Platforms-What, Why, and How? Guide: How to Promote Yourself as a Writer/Author via Social Media 12 Sites for Sharing Original Fiction
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