#only in grammar exercises

[nell-is-cold]

sometimes i wonder if i will get bored of grammar when learning a language but then i go and do an exercise with a transcript and some of these stories are wild. i just sat down to do some preposition practise in German and suddenly i’m reading about a guy taking advantage of stranger’s pity for his disabled parents so that he can eat out regularly without paying.

[fingertipsmp3]

Friendship ended with google sheets, now filofax is my best friend

[vestaldestroyer]

today's hungarian class was pure torture. please save me bsdrewatch

[sexykwan]

good morning yesterday i found out i can only english class 10 times and ive already skipped twice.................ending it

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤGRAMMYS 2025 * CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N, worldwide famous singer, goes to the Grammys 2025 and brings Chris as her pair for the first time.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x singer!reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Y/N had been nominated for five Grammy Awards this year. Five. And yet, for some reason, the thought of stepping onto that carpet, under the flashing lights and watchful eyes of the entire world, made her more nervous than she’d ever been.

It wasn’t her first time - this was her fifth Grammy appearance - but the nerves never seemed to dull, no matter how many times she did this.

Her team had tried everything: chamomile tea, soothing massages, deep breathing exercises, playing her favorite calming playlist at a low volume in the background, even giving her a dozen of those custom-made chocolates with her face printed on them. But nothing helped. Not really.

Not even Chris’s kisses; though she had to admit, they were a very welcome distraction.

They were in a penthouse suite of a luxurious hotel in downtown Los Angeles, even though their house was barely a twenty-minute drive away. It was protocol, her team insisted. Every artist did it - getting ready in a hotel, away from distractions, with stylists, makeup artists, and PR people swarming around. It was meant to be a controlled environment, a perfectly curated lead-up to the biggest night in music. But it only added to the pressure.

Y/N stood in front of a massive floor-to-ceiling mirror, wrapped in a silk robe, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as a makeup artist blended soft eyeshadow onto her lids. Her hairstylist was behind her, curling strands of her hair into loose waves. She looked poised on the outside, but internally, her nerves were tying knots in her stomach.

Chris sat on the couch a few feet away, watching her intently. He was already dressed - black tux, crisp white shirt, and a bow tie he had spent fifteen minutes fighting with before her makeup artist took pity on him and fixed it for him.

He looked good.

Really good.

The kind of good that made her momentarily forget about the nerves. But she wasn’t the only one nervous tonight.

Chris had been jittery since this morning, though he tried not to show it. This was his first time attending something this big, this formal, and while he was used to attention, this was a whole new level. He was going to be surrounded by the most famous people in the world, and for the first time, he wasn’t just Chris Sturniolo, the YouTuber; he was Chris Sturniolo, Y/N’s date to the Grammys.

But instead of letting his own anxiety get to him, he focused on her, observing how her fingers twitched, manicured nails shining below the lights with every tremble.

"Baby." He cooed, standing and walking toward her as soon as the makeup artist stepped aside. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her exposed shoulder, his big hands finding home around her hips, squeezing the covered skin. "What are you feeling, huh? 'Can feel you stressing from across the room, doll."

Y/N sighed, her hands gripping the edges of the vanity table, being careful not to knock her knuckles against the three massive bouquets - Nick had arranged for all of them to be delivered straight to her room in that morning.

"I just... I don’t know, Chris." She murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I know I’ve done this before, but what if I don’t win anything? What if I disappoint everyone?"

Before she could spiral any further, Chris was already moving. His hands slid from her hips to her stomach, wrapping around her in a slow embrace. He pulled her against him, his chest firm against her back, the heat of his body seeping through the thin fabric of her robe.

"Hey." He whispered, lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Don’t do that."

His voice was gentle but firm, a quiet command that sent a shiver down her spine. She felt his breath against her neck, warm and familiar, grounding her.

"First of all." He continued, his arms tightening around her middle. "You’re the best singer out of everyone in that room tonight. You know that, right?"

Her eyes rolled.

"Baby, you can't say that when Billie Eilish, Taylor Swift-" She started, turning her head slightly, but he was already shaking his head.

"Nope." He cut in, resting his chin in the curve of her neck, his gaze locking onto hers through the mirror. "I said what I said. And for the record." He added, voice lower now, dripping with conviction. "You’re already the winner of everything in my book. Even the categories you’re not nominated in."

She sighed, heart pounding as his hands splayed across her stomach, his thumbs brushing slow, absentminded circles.

"Best Album? Yours." He murmured, letting his lips ghost over her jaw. "Best Song? Yours." His mouth traveled down to her shoulder, barely pressing against her skin, yet setting every nerve ending alight. "Best Human Being to Ever Exist?" He turned his head just enough to meet her eyes in the mirror again, his smirk soft but teasing. "You, obviously."

She let out a small, shaky laugh.

"Chris-"

"I’m serious." He interrupted, turning his head and nuzzling the soft skin of her temple, inhaling the rich scent of her Givenchy perfume. "Your fans love you. I love you. And, babe, let’s be honest, you could drop a single of you just breathing into a mic, and it would still go platinum."

That made her laugh, her eyes rolling with amusement.

"You’re gonna do your best tonight, like you always do. And no matter what happens, I’ll be right there with you."

She finally turned in his hold, her arms looping around his neck and her red tinted lips forming a small pout.

"Even if I trip on the carpet?"

"I’ll trip with you. We’ll make it a trend." Chris grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to the tip of her nose, being excessively careful not to smudge her perfect makeup. "Now, I think there's a worldwide famous singer who should be getting dressed, huh?"

Y/N's eyes stared into blue ones for a moment, smiling with the softness she found in them.

"Yeah... Yeah, you're right."

A sharp knock at the door broke their haze, followed by a loud voice.

"Y/N!"

The voice was unmistakable, high-pitched and full of dramatic flair, and before Y/N could even turn, Harry Lambert had burst into the room, arms spread wide, eyes scanning her from head to toe with theatrical disbelief.

"Oh. My. GOD." He practically floated toward her, his hands fluttering in the air like he was physically trying to grasp the vision before him. "Darling, how dare you stand there looking this stunning before even getting into your dress?"

Y/N barely had time to react before he pulled her into a tight hug, arms wrapped around her like he hadn’t seen her in years - even though they had spoken just yesterday. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her there for a beat longer than necessary, his touch radiating warmth and love.

"My baby girl." He cooed, pulling back slightly to cup her face. "How are we feeling? Nervous? Excited? On the verge of a breakdown?"

"All of the above." Y/N admitted, letting out a breathy laugh as he studied her with fondness.

Harry clicked his tongue.

"Well, you shouldn’t be, because you’re about to own this night. And if anyone so much as dares to breathe in your direction the wrong way, I will be throwing hands."

Chris chuckled from behind them.

"Good to see you, Harry."

"Christopher!" Harry turned to him with a dazzling smile, patting his chest in greeting before narrowing his eyes playfully. "The suit I chose for you was a very good choice, huh? Gucci looks good on you. Now, let’s be clear, your only job tonight is to stand there, look pretty, and worship Y/N like the goddess she is. Do you understand me?"

Chris raised his hands in surrender.

"Oh, trust me, I’ve been doing that since the second I met her."

Y/N felt her cheeks warm as Harry clapped his hands together.

"That’s my boy. Now, enough chit-chat! It is officially time to get my queen into the dress."

The entire room seemed to shift as the energy buzzed with anticipation. Y/N was ushered toward the dressing area, where the Gucci gown had been carefully laid out, glowing under the soft lights. Even without being worn, it commanded attention - the gold fabric shimmering as if infused with actual stardust, the dramatic ruffles sculpted to perfection.

As they helped her into it, every detail came to life. The strapless silhouette hugged her body in all the right places, the embedded crystals catching every flicker of light. The metallic sleeves, voluminous and artful, cascaded around her arms, while the matching ruffles at the bottom framed her steps with effortless grace.

When the final adjustments were made, Harry stepped back, his hands pressed to his chest as if he might faint.

"Oh, sweet heavens above." He whispered, looking genuinely overwhelmed. "I’ve outdone myself. We’ve outdone ourselves."

Chris, who had been sitting on the bed answering his brothers texts, looked up with Harry's voice, suddenly straightening up. His hands dropped to his lap, and his mouth hung open slightly, completely speechless.

"Wow." His voice came out strangled, like he had just been personally attacked.

Y/N turned toward him fully, the movement making the crystals on her dress shimmer, the light practically bending to her will. Chris visibly short-circuited.

"Are you- what- how-" He inhaled sharply, shaking his head as if trying to reboot his brain. "Nah. Nah. This isn’t fair. This should be illegal."

Y/N bit her lip, fighting a smile, but his reaction only got worse. His fingers threaded into his hair, his eyes raking over her from head to toe with pure, unfiltered obsession.

"Jesus fuck." He breathed out, voice a little rough. "You’re gonna kill me tonight, doll."

Harry smirked, tilting his head as he admired her.

"Oh, she’s not just going to kill you, Christopher. She’s going to kill everyone at the Grammys tonight. And I, for one, cannot wait to watch it happen."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The energy outside the venue was electric. Even from inside the tinted Range Rover, the deafening sound of flashing cameras and screaming paparazzi was unavoidable. Y/N shifted in her seat, inhaling slowly, feeling the vibration of the excitement just beyond the doors.

A hand suddenly slid over her thighs, warm and grounding, caressing the fabric of her dress.

"Ready?" Chris asked, his voice softer than the chaos outside.

Y/N turned to him, wetting her matte lipstick lips.

"Yeah." She breathed, even though her heart was hammering.

Chris smirked knowingly.

"Liar."

Before she could argue, the car door swung open, and an immediate wave of screams hit them like a storm.

Chris stepped out first, adjusting his suit as flashes exploded around him, the sound of his name already being yelled from every direction. He quickly moved around to face the inside of the car, offering his hand.

The second Y/N emerged, the chaos tripled.

"Y/N! Y/N! Over here!"

"Y/N! Christopher! Are you two official?"

"Y/N, do you think you’ll win tonight?"

Y/N barely flinched at the shouting - it was part of the job. Instead, she kept her chin high, gripping Chris’s hand as they made their way down the carpet. The venue was bathed in red and gold hues, a massive step-and-repeat wall covered in Grammy logos standing proudly ahead. The air buzzed with anticipation, celebrities lining the edges of the carpet, all waiting for their moment in front of the cameras.

A staff member approached, guiding them toward a designated spot.

"You first, Ms. Y/N." The woman instructed.

Chris gave Y/N a gentle squeeze before stepping aside, allowing her to take center stage.

And damn, did she own it.

The second she posed, the already flashing cameras seemed to explode.

The fitted, gold gown clung to her frame like liquid metal, sparkling under the lights. The voluminous, ruffled sleeves caught the air as she shifted her stance, making her look like some sort of celestial being - untouchable, ethereal. She turned her head smoothly, flashing a radiant smile as the photographers shouted for her attention.

Chris, standing just a few feet away, was not handling it well. His eyes never left her, completely entranced, like he was seeing her for the first time again, not even noticing the flashs directed to his figure.

Y/N, catching his expression, couldn’t help but smile shyly. She subtly tilted her head toward him between poses, raising a teasing brow.

Chris just shook his head, still gawking, before muttering under his breath.

"Jesus Christ."

The staff member signaled for Chris to approach Y/N for their couple photos. Y/N turned toward him, making a playful shooing motion with her hands as if to snap him out of his trance.

"Earth to Chris." She teased.

Chris didn’t respond - not verbally, at least. Instead, he stepped closer with large steps and grabbed her by the waist, carefully pulling her flush against him, careful with her heels but firm enough to steal a delighted gasp from her. The moment their bodies pressed together, the screams from the crowd outside the barricades and the clicking of cameras reached a new level of hysteria.

The cameras loved them.

Chris leaned in between shots, his lips brushing her ear.

"You think they got food inside?"

Y/N barely bit back a laugh, keeping her expression poised as she continued smiling for the cameras.

"What, you mean like caviar and tiny-ass lobster rolls?"

"I don’t care if it’s a plate of lettuce. I need to eat something before I pass out."

Y/N snorted softly with how dramatic he could be, bumping her hips against his just slightly, careful not to disrupt the pictures.

"You ate almost all of those chocolates back in the hotel. Where does it even go?"

Chris grinned, his fingers squeezing at her waist, effectively freezing her in place.

"Wouldn’t you like to know?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a giggle.

"Be serious, Sturniolo."

"I am serious." He looked at her then, really looked at her, and it sent something warm and electric curling down her spine. "You are so fucking beautiful, it’s actually stupid."

Y/N faltered for half a second, her breath catching, not from the flashing lights, not from the cameras, but from him.

Chris chuckled, clearly pleased her reaction.

"Want to give y'a post-celebration present so bad." His voice switched to low and airy, almost lost beneath the noise, but she heard it perfectly.

Y/N swallowed, her mind jumping to conclusions she probably shouldn’t be having on the Grammys red carpet.

"Hm, and what would that be?"

Chris smirked, his fingers flexing at her waist.

"Eat y’out."

Y/N kept her composure like a pro, smiling for the cameras with a practiced grin, but discreetly pressed her thighs together. Two could play this game.

But before she could fire back, a voice interrupted.

"Alright, guys! We need to move to the next area!"

Another event staff member gestured for them to proceed toward the interview section, their tone polite but firm. Y/N exhaled slowly, her heart thudding inside her ears.

Chris sighed dramatically, his grip on her waist tightening for just a second before he let go, traveling up to her hand.

"And here I was, thinking we could just stay here all night."

Y/N squeezed his fingers, tugging him forward.

"Come on, you menace."

As they walked toward the interview zone, the setup became clearer - a sleek, well-lit platform lined with various media outlets, each interviewer eagerly awaiting their next celebrity guest. But before Y/N could even register who was up next, a familiar voice rang out, unmistakably enthusiastic.

"Y/N, oh my God! Get over here!"

Emma Chamberlain.

Y/N's face lit up immediately, and without hesitation, she pulled Chris along, their hands still intertwined as they made a beeline toward Emma. The internet personality-turned-Grammys correspondent was practically bouncing on her heels, her eyes wide with excitement.

As soon as they reached her, Emma lifted her microphone with dramatic flair.

"Ladies and gentlemen, five-time Grammy-nominated Y/N L/N, everyone!"

Y/N laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"No way you just said that like an awards show host."

Emma grinned.

"I am an awards show host." Then, turning to Chris, she playfully narrowed her eyes. "And, of course, let’s not forget the man of the hour, Chris Sturniolo!"

Chris chuckled, giving a small wave, the silver ring on his index finger glinting against the camera flash.

"That’s me."

Emma wasted no time diving into questions, her energy infectious.

"Okay, first things first, how are you feeling?" She pointed the mic toward Y/N.

Y/N exhaled, a bright smile still gracing her lips.

"Honestly? I’m just... I don’t even know how to put it into words. Happy? Grateful? In shock? All of it at once?" She shook her head in disbelief. "I mean, the Grammys. It’s something you dream about as a kid, you know? And now, five nominations? I feel like I need someone to pinch me."

Chris gently squeezed her hand, leaning in slightly so his mouth was close to the mic, his cheek brushing hers in the process.

"Not gonna lie, I did pinch her earlier to check."

Y/N playfully swatted at him, making Emma laugh.

"Alright, but tell me everything. What were you doing when you found out you were nominated?"

At this, Y/N turned to Chris, already laughing.

"Oh my God, it was chaos."

Chris grinned, nodding while brushing his messy hair back.

"Totally."

Y/N faced Emma again, still giggling.

"Okay, so we were just in the living room, me, Chris, Matt, and Nick. It was so casual, literally just us eating burgers, watching the nominations roll in on TV, not thinking much of it."

Emma’s eyes widened.

"Wait, so you weren’t even refreshing Twitter like a maniac?"

"No!" Y/N shook her head. "I swear, I wasn’t even expecting anything. And then, boom. My name gets called for the first nomination, and I just screamed."

"Nick screamed, too." Chris jumped in, laughing.

Emma gasped.

"Nick would."

Y/N nodded rapidly.

"He did! So then, Chris kisses me, Matt’s literally jumping up and down, and it was just full-on mayhem. But then, like, a minute later, my name gets called again for another nomination."

Chris smirked, nodding his head.

"And again. And again."

Emma covered her mouth, delighted.

"So by the fifth time-"

"I was crying." Y/N admitted, grinning. "Like, full-on sobbing in Chris’s arms."

Emma dramatically put her free hand against her heart.

"This is what I live for." Then, turning to Chris, she grinned mischievously. "Alright, your turn, Sturniolo."

Chris blinked, looking at Y/N before going back to Emma.

"Me?"

Emma nodded, dead serious.

"Yes, you. Because I know you, you act all cool and chill, but I know you were losing your mind when she got nominated."

Chris laughed, shaking his head.

"I mean, yeah, obviously. I was going crazy. But I think it really hit me when I looked at her during the last nomination and realized, this is actually happening. Like, she’s that talented. The world is seeing what I already knew."

Y/N felt her face heat up, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest.

Emma pouted.

"Chris, that's so wholesome. You’re really that boyfriend, huh?"

Chris shrugged, squeezing Y/N’s hand.

"I mean, yeah. Have you met her?"

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, but her smile didn’t fade.

"I know, right?" Emma nodded at Chris's direction, laughing with Y/N's reaction. "Now, tell me, which nomination are you most excited about?"

Y/N didn’t even hesitate.

"Song of the Year."

Emma’s brows lifted.

"Because...?"

Y/N took a breath, her fingers unconsciously tightening around Chris’s hand.

"Because the song nominated for that category is Lavender Haze, and that song... it just means so much to me." She glanced at Chris, her expression softer now.

Emma’s eyes darted between the two of them, her curiosity sparking instantly. She glanced at Y/N, then at Chris, before turning toward the camera with exaggerated wide eyes.

"Ohhh, I know that look." She teased, pointing between them with a knowing grin. "Okay, spill, tell me about the song."

Y/N let out a breathy laugh with how eager she sounded, meeting Emma’s gaze again.

"You'll know all about it if I win." She winked, her tone warm.

Chris was quick to approach the microphone again.

"Not if, when."

Emma tilted her head, frowning as a pout grew on her lips.

"No way you're going to leave me with this curiosity." She sighed dramatically. "I guess I'll need to watch the awards with double attention." Emma winked to the camera. "Okay, I’m obsessed with you guys. This is too cute. But I won’t keep you any longer, go enjoy your night! And, Y/N, fingers crossed for all five wins!"

Y/N beamed, giving Emma one last hug before she and Chris were guided to the next section of the event. As they walked, the lights of the Grammys venue shining ahead, Chris leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear.

"You’re killing it, doll."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The moment Y/N and Chris stepped into the grand main salon, the shift in the atmosphere was almost physical. The flashing lights of the red carpet were behind them, replaced by the elegant glow of chandeliers and the soft hum of conversation. Celebrities, industry giants, and music legends filled the expansive room, dressed in their finest, the air buzzing with anticipation.

A staff member immediately approached them with a warm smile, gesturing toward their assigned table.

"Good evening, Ms. L/N, Mr. Sturniolo. Right this way, please."

As they walked through the lavishly decorated space, Y/N’s fingers instinctively tightened around Chris’s hand, her nerves still tingling with the knowledge that the biggest names were around her.

Halfway to their table, a familiar voice called out from the side.

"Chris! No way- dude!"

Chris turned toward the sound, a grin instantly spreading across his face when he saw Troye Sivan standing up from his table, waving him over.

Troye had met Chris and his brothers just two weeks ago at a Prada fashion show, and the energy between them had been instantly chill and friendly.

"Troye, hey, what’s up, man?" Chris greeted as he pulled him in for a quick hug.

Meanwhile, Y/N turned toward Sabrina Carpenter, who was seated beside Troye in the most ethereal baby blue dress, its delicate fabric flowing like water over her frame.

"Sabrina, hi!" Y/N greeted, her voice lighting up as she fully took in the details of her look. "Wow, you look absolutely stunning. Like, actually unreal."

Sabrina’s eyes widened for a split second, surprise flashing across her face before it melted into the sweetest, most genuine smile. Without a second thought, she pushed herself up from her seat, reaching for Y/N as if they were lifelong friends and pulling her into a warm, affectionate hug. She squeezed tightly, her energy radiating pure kindness.

"Oh my god, stop." Sabrina gushed, pulling back just enough to look at Y/N, her hands still resting gently on her arms. "That means the world coming from you. And please, look at you!" She emphasized, eyes scanning Y/N from head to toe with genuine admiration. "You look like an actual goddess."

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head as she absentmindedly smoothed her hands over the golden fabric of her dress.

"It’s all Lambert’s magic." She admitted with a playful grin, referring to her trusted stylist. Then, with a spark of excitement, she added. "I heard you’re performing tonight, I cannot wait to see it!"

Sabrina practically bounced in place, her excitement just as contagious.

"Oh, that makes me so nervous but also so happy." She admitted with a laugh, her hands clasping together. "I just hope I don’t trip or something."

Y/N shook her head instantly.

"No way, you’re going to kill it. I already know it."

Chris and Troye exchanged a few more words, something about how amazing the Prada show had been and how they should schedule to do something together in the future, before Chris gave him a casual pat on the shoulder.

"We’ll catch up later, yeah? We gotta find our table before they go live."

Troye grinned.

"For sure. Enjoy the night, guys."

After one last big smile at Sabrina, Y/N slipped her hand back into Chris’s as they navigated through the room.

Their table was positioned with a perfect view of the stage, the paper cards on their seats spelling out their names in black ink below a selected picture of their faces.

As they sat down, Y/N exhaled, glancing up at the stage. A quick glance at the massive countdown screen told her they had ten minutes before the live broadcast began.

"Damn." She muttered, leaning toward Chris. "Didn’t even realize how much time passed outside."

Chris chuckled, his voice low.

"That’s ‘cause you were too busy looking hot and stealing everyone’s attention."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at her lips.

"Come'ere, babe." He asked, extending his arm in her direction, asking silently for her to move closer.

Her eyes sparkled with affection, and she shifted her chair slightly, moving closer to Chris until she was practically pressed against his side. Without hesitation, he wrapped his extended arm around her upper body, pulling her in securely. The warmth of his body mixed with the familiarity of his presence was grounding and comforting.

Chris pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Y/N tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes shining under the dimmed chandeliers.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the room.

Chris furrowed his brows slightly, looking down at her, their faces so close he could feel her warm breath hitting his chin.

"For what?"

"For being here with me. For always being here for me."

His gaze softened immediately, and the way he looked at her - so full of quiet devotion - made her heart swell.

"Forever, baby." He murmured, squeezing her gently.

Before Y/N could say anything else, a new voice cut into their moment.

"Excuse me, I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

The voice was warm, familiar, and utterly unmistakable.

Both Y/N and Chris turned toward the sound, and in an instant, Y/N felt the entire world freeze. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttered, and for a brief, terrifying moment, she wondered if she had actually left her body.

Because standing there, just a few feet away, in all her effortless, golden-lit, legendary glory, was Taylor Swift.

Taylor Swift.

Y/N swore she could hear the heavens parting and angels singing in the background.

Taylor was an absolute vision in a stunning, strong red mini dress, her signature red lip effortlessly bold, her blonde hair framing her face in soft waves.

And she was smiling - smiling - at her.

"Oh my god." Y/N blurted out, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could even attempt to reel them back in.

Taylor let out a soft laugh as she shook her head lightly, eyes twinkling.

"I just wanted to say that I’m such a huge fan of your work. Lavender Haze is absolutely everything."

Y/N felt her soul leave her body.

Her brain quite literally short-circuited. Because- because what?

Taylor Swift, the Taylor Swift, her biggest inspiration, her songwriting idol, just complimented her music?

There was a very real possibility that she had just blacked out.

Chris shifted slightly beside her, maintaining his arm above the back of her chair, obviously trying so hard not to burst out laughing at how starstruck she looked.

Somehow, somehow, Y/N managed to keep her expression together, even though her heart was doing full-blown Olympic-level gymnastics in her chest.

"That means everything coming from you." She breathed, every word laced with pure, raw sincerity. "Thank you so, so much."

Taylor’s smile only widened, like she could feel how much those words meant to Y/N.

"Seriously." She said, her voice warm and genuine. "I’ve been listening to it on repeat. You’re insanely talented. The way you crafted that song... you have such a gift."

Y/N felt an actual tear prick at the corner of her eye. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hug her. She wanted to tattoo this moment onto her soul and never forget it.

And then, as if she couldn’t possibly adore her any more, Taylor turned to Chris, offering him the same bright, kind smile.

"And of course, you." She said, her tone playful but just as sincere. "I love what you and your brothers are doing on YouTube. It’s always fun seeing people bring fresh energy to the space."

Chris looked genuinely taken aback for a moment. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and for the first time, Y/N saw a flicker of oh wow, this is real life in his expression.

"That’s- wow, okay, that’s crazy." He said, running a hand through his hair with an incredulous chuckle. "Thank you, that’s- man, that’s insane coming from you."

Taylor grinned, her hand gently squeezing Y/N’s shoulder, grounding her back to reality.

"I won’t keep you guys." She said softly. "I just wanted to say that. Hope you both have the best night."

And just like that, she turned, walking back toward her table.

For a long, stunned second, Y/N just stood there, processing what had just happened. Then, with wide eyes, she turned to Chris, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Did that just happen?"

Chris, still looking way too amused, nodded, his grin stretching across his face.

"Yup." He confirmed. "And you just casually had a conversation with Taylor Swift like it was nothing."

Y/N let out a sharp exhale, pressing her hands over her face.

"I need a second."

Chris laughed, and before she could even register it, he was wrapping both arms around her, pulling her in tightly, his face pressing against her hair.

"Proud of you, popstar." He murmured, his voice laced with nothing but warmth.

Before she could respond, the lights dimmed, and the energy in the room shifted as a voice echoed through the speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your host for the 67th Annual Grammy Awards, Trevor Noah!"

A roar of cheers erupted as the towering LED screens flanking the stage flickered to life, displaying Trevor Noah’s wide, mischievous grin. He strolled onto the main floor rather than standing on the stage, seamlessly blending into the sea of round tables where the biggest names in the industry were seated.

He adjusted the microphone in his hand, letting the applause die down just enough before flashing a knowing smirk.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen." He began, his smooth voice carrying through the arena. "This is it, the 67th Grammys! Music’s biggest night! The Super Bowl for people who cried to Folklore, danced to Beyoncé, and worked out to Travis Scott, all in the same day!"

Laughter rippled through the crowd as the camera panned to a few artists nodding dramatically in agreement.

"And listen, let’s be honest. The Grammys are basically just a really fancy dinner party where we all pretend we haven’t been stalking the winners list since yesterday." Another wave of laughter followed. "But tonight... tonight, we are celebrating the best of the best in music. The songs that made us scream in our cars, the albums that made us question our entire existence, and the artists who consistently ruin our Spotify Wrapped every year."

Trevor began walking casually between the round tables, grinning as he looked around at the audience.

"And let’s not forget the real stars of the night, the seating arrangements. Have you seen these tables? It’s like the ultimate Hunger Games. You got legends, you got rookies, and you got the poor artists who are just hoping they don’t get caught in an awkward cutaway during a joke."

The camera zoomed in on a few newer artists laughing nervously, earning a chuckle from the crowd.

Trevor continued weaving his way through the tables, his eyes scanning the sea of music’s biggest names.

"And speaking of icons." He said, stopping by a particular table. "Tonight, we have the one and only Y/N L/N with us!"

The moment her name left his lips, the entire arena erupted into cheers. The camera cut to Y/N’s table, her face instantly lighting up with a radiant smile. Chris grinned smugly as he watched her soak in the moment.

Y/N turned slightly to face the camera that was now focused on her, offering a soft wave. The massive screen above the stage displayed a live feed of her, the applause continuing as Trevor beamed.

"Now, listen, if you somehow missed it, Y/N is up for five nominations tonight!" Trevor announced, pointing at her with mock emphasis. "Five nominations, guys. For songs and the album she announced when she won last year. That’s how much of a legend she is."

Y/N let out a soft laugh, her cheeks warming as she watched herself on the big screen. The camera panned slightly to Chris, who was nodding with a smug expression, as if silently agreeing with every word Trevor was saying.

"Plus." Trevor continued, stepping closer to their table. "If Y/N wins tonight, she could be the first artist ever to win Album of the Year five times."

Gasps and cheers rippled through the audience, while Y/N’s smile grew impossibly wider.

"Which means, she would break the record of four wins set all the way back in 2024 by-" Trevor raised his free hand, making a show of pretending to check an invisible list on his palm. "Y/N L/N!"

The entire room erupted into even louder applause, whistles echoing through the space as Trevor dramatically motioned toward her again.

Y/N's eyebrows flew up, feigning surprise, trying to contain her giddiness while Chris chuckled beside her, mouthing 'that's my girl' to a camera pointing his way.

Trevor placed a hand on his hip, looking toward the camera with mock exasperation.

"So basically, Y/N is out here breaking her own records. Just casually deciding that four wins aren’t enough and going for five. That’s like running a marathon, winning, and then saying, 'You know what? Let’s do it again, backwards'."

More laughter filled the room, Y/N pressing a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling too much. Trevor grinned, looking at her one last time.

"Listen, Y/N, whatever happens tonight, you’re already a legend. But if you win that fifth Grammy, just promise me you won’t announce another album mid-acceptance speech. Give the rest of the industry a fighting chance, okay?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head, and Chris patted her thigh under the table, looking thoroughly entertained.

Trevor winked before turning back to the audience, raising his mic once again.

"Alright, let’s get this incredible night started! We’ve got performances, surprises, and probably a few moments that’ll break the internet. Let’s do this!"

The crowd roared as the cameras pulled away, cutting to a sleek transition video, signaling the official start of the show. Y/N exhaled, stealing a glance at Chris, who simply grinned and pulled her back to his chest, pressing his lips against her cheek.

"You’re so winning tonight."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The moment the last notes of Birds of a Feather echoed through the grand hall, Y/N felt like she was floating. Billie Eilish had just delivered one of the most breathtaking performances she had ever seen, and she could still feel the goosebumps lingering on her arms.

She turned to Chris, her eyes shining with excitement, her heart still beating to the rhythm of the song.

"Billie is unreal." She gushed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Like, every time she performs, it’s like she’s singing straight to my soul."

Chris let out a chuckle, his arm draped lazily around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"Nick would actually kill to be here right now." His lips quirked up in amusement. "I bet he’s texting us like a mad man."

Y/N laughed softly, already imagining Nick’s all-caps messages blowing up their group chat. But before she could even think of checking, the stage lights dimmed slightly, and the screens around the venue shifted. A familiar melody played in the background as a figure gracefully stepped onto the stage. The chatter in the audience softened as people turned their attention to her.

Taylor Swift.

Y/N straightened in her seat, her heart picking up speed.

Chris immediately caught the change in her posture and smirked.

"Oh shit." He teased, giving her shoulder a little squeeze. "Your idol is speaking. Do you need me to hold you so you don’t pass out?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling in her chest.

Taylor approached the microphone with that effortless charm that made the entire room fall silent. She smiled warmly, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear before speaking.

"Good evening, everyone." She greeted, her voice carrying easily through the venue. "Tonight has been incredible so far, and I am so honored to be here presenting this next award."

Y/N opened a genuine smile, squeezing Chris's thigh below her fingers.

"Album of the Year is such a special award because it represents not just music, but stories. It’s about the albums that stayed with us, that shaped our emotions, our memories. The ones that became the soundtrack to our lives." Taylor continued, her expression softening as she held up the envelope. "And with that being said, the Grammy goes to..."

She slid her fingers under the flap and carefully pulled out the card, unfolding it with precision.

Y/N could feel Chris’s arms tighten around her. His body heat a cocoon around her own as she clutched onto him, her pulse thundering in her temple.

A second of silence stretched. Then Taylor’s eyes scanned the paper, and the biggest, brightest smile took over her face. Her gaze lifted, seemingly searching the crowd for someone.

Y/N furrowed her brows slightly.

Taylor found her.

And then, with a warmth that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine, Taylor announced.

"Y/N L/N, Midnights."

The world tilted.

For a solid moment, Y/N didn’t move. She couldn’t move. The air in her lungs disappeared, her vision blurred instantly with unshed tears, and her mouth fell open in pure, unfiltered shock, her hands hovering near her mouth, trembling as realization crashed into her like a tidal wave.

Album of the Year.

She won.

She won.

Chris, on the other hand, reacted immediately.

"YES!" He shouted, his voice cutting through the noise as he punched the air, his excitement completely unfiltered. People turned, smiling, laughing, but Chris didn’t care. His hands were already on Y/N, his eyes scanning her face.

She wasn’t breathing.

"Babe." His voice softened instantly as he leaned in, his forehead almost touching hers. "Hey, you did it."

Y/N sucked in a sharp, shaky breath, but it wasn’t enough. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them, her body shaking with the force of emotions she had no chance of containing.

A broken sob escaped her lips.

Chris pulled her in before she could crumple, wrapping her up in the kind of hug that blocked everything else out. His arms were warm, steady, his lips pressing against her forehead as he whispered, his voice firm this time.

"You did it."

Y/N let out a wet laugh against his shoulder, her fingers clutching onto him for just a second longer before she finally let go.

He gently lowered his head, making sure she looked at him.

And God, the way he was looking at her.

Like she had just built the entire universe with her bare hands.

"Go get your Grammy, winner." He murmured, the words slow and soft and filled with everything.

Y/N let out another broken breath, nodding before finally, finally turning toward the stage.

The journey to the top felt surreal, like she was floating. The cheers, the applause, the faces she recognized - people she had idolized - they all blurred together.

And then suddenly, she was there.

Standing at the top.

Face to face with Taylor Swift.

Who was smiling at her, waiting for her, Grammy in hand.

Y/N’s breath hitched all over again.

Her hands, still unsteady, reached out, fingers closing around the golden gramophone. The weight of it sent a whole new wave of emotions crashing into her.

Before she could even process what was happening, Taylor pulled her into a hug - tight, warm, real.

"Congratulations." Taylor whispered against her ear, and god, if that wasn’t the most surreal moment of Y/N’s entire life. "You deserve this so much."

A choked noise left Y/N’s lips as she nodded weakly, her throat too tight to speak.

She deserved this.

She deserved this.

Her fingers traced over the Grammy, like she needed physical proof that it was real before she finally turned to the microphone.

She inhaled deeply. Opened her mouth.

"I-I don’t even know what to say right now." She admitted, biting her bottom lip. "I’m- god, I’m just so honored."

The crowd cooed, and Y/N let out a breathless laugh of her own, shaking her head as more tears slipped down her cheeks.

"This is insane." She said, shaking her head slightly. "Being nominated in this category, alongside so many incredible artists, artists I’ve admired for years, was already more than I could’ve ever dreamed of. To even stand beside you all tonight, to celebrate music with you? That was already everything."

Her chest rose and fell as she blinked away the heat gathering behind her eyes, sweeping her gaze across the crowd.

"I have to thank my incredible producer, my team, every single person who helped bring this album to life." Her voice wavered, thick with emotion. "You guys took my wild, messy ideas and turned them into something real, something that I never could have done alone. And I will never stop being grateful."

She wet her lips, inhaling deeply before her smile stretched just a little wider.

"My fans..." Her voice caught slightly, her hand pressing over her heart. "You guys have given me everything. You’ve let me tell my stories, and you’ve listened over and over and over again. You’ve made this dream of mine possible, and I love you more than I can ever put into words."

The cheers swelled again, voices from every corner of the room shouting her name. Her grip on the Grammy tightened as she shifted her weight slightly.

"To my family, Matt and Nick, my biggest cheerleaders." She laughed softly, looking at the main camera pointing at her. "I love you guys, you already know that."

And then, as if the moment had been waiting for this, her gaze lifted to him. Her breath hitched, lips curling into a smile that was just for him.

"And lastly." She said, her voice softer now. "To my boyfriend, Chris."

A ripple of excitement spread through the audience, but Y/N didn’t hear it. Not when those impossibly blue eyes were locked onto hers, not when his expression softened with something so tender, so proud, it made her knees weak.

"Thank you for being the creative genius that you are." She said, eyes never leaving his. "For staying up with me in the studio when I couldn’t figure out the right melody, even when I was on hour ten of tweaking the same one."

Laughter rolled through the room, and Chris grinned, shaking his head.

"For never doubting me." She continued, her throat tightening. "Even when I doubted myself. For being my biggest supporter. My muse. Every song, every lyric... You are in all of them.”

Chris exhaled sharply, his jaw tensing, his hand pressing over his heart as if feeling her love for him.

"Thank you." She finished simply, her voice steady, full of everything she couldn’t quite put into words.

The applause was deafening. A roar of cheers, of love, of celebration.

But all Y/N could hear was the thundering of her own heart.

This was real.

She had just won Album of the Year for the fifth time in a row.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The massive screens on either side of the stage illuminated with Trevor Noah’s face again as he took the microphone, now standing above all of them, his signature charm radiating through the room.

"Alright, people." He started, a knowing smirk on his lips. "This is it, one of the most expected award of the night. Song of the Year."

The audience erupted into applause, a tangible wave of excitement washing over the room.

Y/N could barely hear it. Her entire body felt like it was wound up in a coil, so tight that she might snap. Her heart pounded mercilessly against her ribcage as she focused on the only thing grounding her - Chris’s hand wrapped tightly around hers.

She could feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers curled firmly around hers, almost as if he knew she needed the anchor.

Trevor continued, his voice filling the grand space.

"Now, we all know Song of the Year isn’t just about a hit track. It’s about storytelling. It’s about lyrics that mean something that connects with people, that makes you feel something in your soul."

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut for a second. God, she felt like she was going to throw up.

Chris, meanwhile, kept his eyes locked on the stage, his jaw set, body tense. His grip on her hand tightening, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand once - just once - as if silently telling her, I’ve got you.

Trevor continued listing the nominees, their song snippets playing softly over the speakers, but Y/N’s mind was a blur. The only thing she could feel was her heartbeat hammering violently inside her chest.

She could barely hear Trevor’s next words over the rush of blood in her ears.

"And the Grammy goes to..."

A dramatic pause.

It felt endless. It felt cruel.

Y/N finally lifted her head, eyes darting to the stage.

Trevor’s gaze swept across the room before his smile widened.

"Y/N L/N, Lavender Haze!"

The room erupted. Applause, cheers bouncing off the walls, her own voice echoing from the speakers, but Y/N barely registered any of it.

Her breath hitched, her entire body jerking forward as if her heart had physically pulled her out of her seat. Her hands flew to her face, pressing against her eyes, trying to contain the overwhelming rush of emotions slamming into her all at once.

Oh, god. Oh, god.

Chris was already moving before she could even think. His chair scraped back, his arms were on her in an instant, pulling her up, grounding her before she could float away in all of this.

"Oh my god." The words tumbled out of her, barely a whisper against her palms, her chest rising and falling too quickly to keep up.

Chris didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around her tightly, anchoring her, holding her so close she could feel his heartbeat against hers.

"I am so fucking proud of you." His voice was right against her ear, steady, sure. "You are everything, baby."

That was it. That was what made the tears slip free.

But Chris didn’t let her hide.

With infinite tenderness, he pulled her hands away from her face, his thumbs sweeping over her damp cheeks. Then, before she could even catch her breath, he cupped her jaw and kissed her, firm, lingering, so full of love that everything else around them faded into nothing.

The crowd reacted instantly - cheers, whistles, camera flashes exploding in rapid succession - but Y/N only felt him.

When he pulled back, his hand found the small of her back, keeping her close, his face glowing with pride.

"Go get your second Grammy, superstar."

She exhaled shakily, nodding as she turned toward the stage for the second time in that night.

With each step, she forced herself to breathe.

In.

Out.

The massive gold-lettered GRAMMY AWARDS logo towered behind Trevor as he extended the award toward her, his smile warm and genuine.

"Y/N, congratulations." He said, offering a short but meaningful handshake.

Y/N took the Grammy statue with slightly trembling hands, whispering.

"Thank you so much." Before stepping toward the microphone.

As she turned, facing the sea of the world’s most influential artists, the weight of the moment finally settled on her. She was with her second award in her hands.

She barely had time to process it before her gaze instinctively found Chris.

He was standing at their table, hands tucked into his pants pockets, eyes locked onto hers. And when she hesitated, nerves bubbling up again, he gave her the smallest nod.

A simple movement.

But one that made her chest ache in the best way.

Y/N exhaled, adjusting her grip on the award.

"I- uh, I think I blacked out for a second there."

The room laughed, the tension easing instantly.

Y/N smiled, shaking her head.

"I genuinely don’t even know where to start. Again. This... this is insane."

She swallowed, her grip tightening on the Grammy as she steadied herself. The applause had started to fade, giving her space to speak, but her mind was still spinning.

"Lavender Haze is about love." She let the words settle, looking down for a brief moment before lifting her gaze straight to him. "The kind of love that blocks out the noise. The kind that just is, no matter what’s said, no matter what’s assumed. The kind that’s real."

Chris’s expression didn’t change, but she saw it, the slight shift in his jaw, the way his fingers curled against his palm, like he was physically stopping himself from reacting too much. From crumbling, maybe.

"This song wouldn’t exist without that love." Y/N wet her lips, heart hammering. "Without him."

A murmur rippled through the audience. People turned toward Chris, whose head finally dropped for half a second, his tongue running over his bottom lip before he glanced back up at her.

Y/N barely heard the movement. Barely noticed the cameras zooming in on them, barely cared about the entire world watching, because this wasn’t for them.

"This music is for you, Chris." Her voice was softer now, but no less sure. "And about you. And because of you."

Chris inhaled sharply, his chest rising with the movement. He was blinking faster now, his lips parting slightly, his entire body still, like if he moved, even a little, he’d break.

"You have been my safe place in ways I never even thought possible." Y/N continued, her voice thick with emotion. "You have shown me love in a way that makes the rest of the world fade out. And I wrote this because I needed people to hear what that feels like."

A pause.

Chris pressed his knuckles against his mouth, his gaze locked onto her like she had gravity itself wrapped around her fingers.

"So, I don’t need to thank anyone else for this." Y/N said simply, shaking her head. "This is you. This was always you."

The room was silent.

The world was silent.

Then, like a tidal wave, the applause crashed back over the moment, a roar of cheers and shouts as the weight of her words settled over the audience.

Chris didn’t move.

Didn’t clap.

Didn’t even breathe for a second.

He just looked at her with the most bright blue eyes.

She nodded, finally stepping back from the mic, Trevor clapping beside her before escorting her off stage.

And the second she made it back to her table, Chris was there.

Before she could even react, he pulled her against him, lips finding hers in a way that had the cameras flashing wildly, had people cooing, but none of it mattered.

Because for Y/N, all that existed was him.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Five nominations.

Five won awards.

She did it.

She had won five Grammys tonight.

She still couldn’t fully process it.

The air outside the main salon was crisp with the late-night chill, but Y/N barely felt it. The sheer exhaustion in her limbs, the dull ache in her feet from hours in high heels, and the weight - both literal and emotional - of the five golden Grammys in her hands left her in a haze.

Chris walked beside her, just as tired, but his expression was still warm with lingering pride. His free hand held two of her awards, his fingers occasionally brushing against hers as they made their way toward the grey wall - the makeshift backdrop set up just for the winners to take their photos.

Y/N’s sharp eyes were quick to spot something - or rather, someone - familiar.

Cole Walliser. The photographer behind every iconic Glambot moment and best photographs at major award shows.

The moment Cole noticed her, his face lit up in recognition, and he immediately called out.

"Y/N! Oh my god, look at these babies!" He gestured toward her stack of trophies, shaking his head in disbelief. "Get over here. You already know the drill!"

Y/N laughed, already making her way toward him, Chris trailing behind her with a wide smile.

"Oh, I think I remember it."

Cole smirked, playing along.

"Yeah? You sure about that? Feels like I’ve only filmed you a dozen times or so."

"Something like that." She teased before gesturing toward Chris with her head. "Brought a friend this time."

Chris scoffed, giving her the most offended look.

"Friend my ass."

Y/N burst into laughter, nudging him playfully, while Cole chuckled at their dynamic.

"Alright, what’s the game plan? We need to show these off."

Y/N barely had time to respond before Chris was already moving, helping her adjust the awards so she could hold them all without them toppling over.

"Wait, wait, here, give me that one." His voice was soft, concentrated, as he carefully restacked them, his touch both gentle and efficient. "Alright, you good? You got ‘em?"

She let out a breathy laugh, adjusting her grip.

"Yeah, I think so."

Cole grinned, stepping back to gesture toward the marked spot in front of the camera.

"Perfect, then. Right this way, Ms. Sturniolo."

Y/N choked on a laugh, and Chris practically beamed.

"Ms. Sturniolo, huh?" Chris turned to her, eyes shining with excitement, his grip on her lower back tightening slightly as he guided her onto the designated Glambot mark. "I like the sound of it."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her laughter betrayed how much she loved seeing him so giddy.

"Don’t let it get to your head, Mr. Sturniolo."

Chris grinned.

"Oh, it’s already there."

As Cole called out instructions, Chris stepped back, giving her space, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he lingered off to the side, watching her with the biggest, most heart-wrenchingly proud smile on his face.

Y/N could feel his gaze on her as she smiled to Cole’s moving camera. She tilted her head, posing slightly, but every time she caught Chris’s eyes in the background, her lips twitched into a barely-contained grin.

She couldn’t help it.

This moment was surreal.

She was standing there, arms full of Grammys, while her person stood just a few feet away, looking at her like she had hung the damn stars in the sky.

After a few more clicks, she shifted the weight of the awards in her arms before looking toward Waliser.

"Can we do one with Chris?" She asked, glancing between the camera and Chris himself.

Cole barely hesitated, quickly nodding.

"Oh, absolutely! Christopher, hop in!"

Chris blinked.

"Oh, I mean- I wasn’t-"

"Oh, shut up and get over here." Y/N teased, a playful glint in her tired eyes.

Chris huffed a soft chuckle before stepping forward, standing beside her as she started redistributing the awards.

"Here." She murmured, placing two specific trophies into his hands.

Song of the Year and Album of the Year.

Chris furrowed his brows slightly, glancing down at the awards before looking back at her.

"Doll-"

"These two." She said softly, eyes locking onto his. "I only got because of you."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers tightening around the trophies instinctively.

"Y/N-"

"Just hold them with me." She whispered, nudging him gently.

Chris exhaled through his nose, his lips pressing into a thin line before he gave in, nodding as they both turned to face the camera.

Cole then gave play on his camera, but Y/N barely paid attention to it. She could feel Chris's eyes at her again, his expression unreadable, almost like he was too full of emotion to put it into words.

When the last one was taken, Chris nudged her shoulder lightly.

"C’mon, superstar. Let’s get out of here."

She didn’t hesitate.

After exchanging warm goodbyes with Cole, Y/N and Chris started making their way toward the private exit where their Range Rover was waiting.

Y/N’s entire body felt like it was dragging now, the adrenaline wearing off fast. She wanted nothing more than to be curled up at home, in bed, preferably with Chris’s arms around her.

But before they could reach the doors-

"Y/N!"

A reporter suddenly appeared in front of them, stepping way too close for comfort. Y/N barely had time to react before the microphone was practically in her face.

"So, are you guys heading to the after-party?" The woman asked, her tone almost demanding, her smile overly eager. "What are the plans for the rest of the night?"

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned by how aggressive the approach was.

Chris, on the other hand... His entire expression darkened. His jaw clenched, and his brows furrowed deeply, his grip tightening around the awards as he took a subtle step closer to Y/N, his entire posture radiating protectiveness.

If looks could kill, the woman would’ve been vaporized on the spot.

But before Chris could say anything, Y/N, despite being exhausted, handled it perfectly.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.

Instead, she simply smiled, a polite, but pointed smile.

"I’m heading home, actually." She said smoothly, adjusting the awards in her arms. "To my family." The reporter barely had time to respond before Y/N added. "Thank you so much. Have a great night."

And just like that, she turned, walking away.

Chris blinked. Then, a slow, smug smirk crept onto his lips as he followed her.

Y/N didn’t give the woman another second of her time. She just kept walking, invisibly pulling Chris with her, her arm brushing against his with every step, greeting and thanking each staff member in the way with warm smiles.

Chris let out a low chuckle as they reached the car, expertly balancing both awards in one hand while using the other to pull open the door for her.

"Damn. That was smooth." His voice was warm, laced with amusement.

Y/N smirked at him over her shoulder, eyes twinkling despite the exhaustion sinking in.

"I’m too tired to deal with more people tonight."

Chris snorted, watching as she slid into the leather seat with a sigh of relief.

"Fair enough."

When he finally climbed into the seat beside hers, he shut the door with a groan, leaning his head back for a second before exhaling slowly.

And just like that, the moment they were sealed inside the warm car, blocking the sounds of loud voices and clicks, the exhaustion slammed into them both.

Y/N melted into the headrest, her eyes falling shut as she let out a deep, heavy breath.

"I feel like I ran a marathon."

Chris chuckled under his breath, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension.

"You did. An emotional one."

She hummed in agreement, her breathing slowing as the exhaustion took hold. Chris reached over instinctively, finding her hand in the dim light of the car, fingers slotting between hers with ease.

His thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow and deliberate, grounding her in the quiet.

"M’so proud of you, baby." His voice was soft, almost a whisper, like he didn’t want to disturb the peacefulness settling over them.

Y/N turned her head toward him, eyelids heavy, but her lips curled into the smallest, sleepiest smile.

"Love you."

Chris lifted their joined hands without hesitation, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, lingering there for just a second longer than necessary.

"Love you more."

She let her eyes flicker down, gaze landing on the golden awards sprawled across her lap and the seat beside her. She reached out, fingertips tracing the engravings, still not entirely believing they were hers.

She let out a thoughtful hum. Five more Grammys.

"We’re gonna have to find space for these at home." She murmured, brows knitting together as she looked over at Chris. "I have no idea where we’re putting them."

Chris chuckled, shaking his head.

"Already taken care of."

She raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nick ordered a whole-ass display cabinet for that empty wall across from the kitchen." He admitted, shooting her a knowing look. "Figured we’d need it."

Y/N blinked, her lips parting slightly.

"He-"

"Yeah." Chris smirked. "So, we’ll put these there with the others from the past years..." He paused, his eyes twinkling playfully. "Until there’s no room left, popstar."

Y/N huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head before leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

"At this rate." She teased, nuzzling his soft skin. "We’ll need a whole new house."

It was no surprise when, in the next TikTok, the boys recorded in their kitchen, the cabinet full of awards served as the background.

© vanteguccir

[lindsaynathi0n]

NDA: I need a sexy nerd. (I need Rafe) ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE.

+18

Rafe wasn't particularly strong in spelling or grammar, but math and science were more his forte.

So when the sexy, but shy girl from college asked him to give her private math lessons, he didn't hesitate.

That's how you found yourself on his desk, completely lost on your exercises.

"I don't understand anything, Rafe!" you say, burying your head in your hands. Rafe lights a cigarette and looks at the exercise.

It was so simple for him that he was holding back from laughing in your face. "Actually, you're reversing the numbers and not paying attention to the instructions."

You look at him and try again, this time getting it right. You succeed in planting a kiss on Rafe's cheek.

You desperately search for Rafe's money, he never makes you pay for the private lessons, despite your constant insistence. You look at Rafe, he's intently focused on a book.

"Rafe?" He looks up at you. "Hm?" You walk over to him, and he stands up, towering over you by a good twenty centimeters.

"I forgot your money…" You look down. Rafe places his hand on your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

"It's nothing, y/n, I honestly don't care." You raise your head. "Not me, Rafe!.." Rafe looks at you, his eyes slowly drifting down to your cleavage. You're dangerously close to him, and your breasts are straining to escape the deep V-neck of your low-cut top.

Rafe feels his pants getting tighter, but he says nothing. He looks at you and tries to stay as calm as possible. "It's nothing, y/n, you should go home, it's going to get dark soon." You were about to protest, but he gives you your things and ushers you out.

Once the door is firmly shut and he hears you walking away from his dorm room, Rafe unbuckles his belt. He removes his pants and boxers.

He leans over the bed, spreading his legs apart. He wraps his hand around his thick, hard erection and begins to slowly thrust his hips upwards, a soft moan escaping his lips.

He throws his head back and closes his eyes, his breathing growing heavier as he continues to jerk off. His muscles flex and his abs tighten with each movement.

He imagines being inside you, the way you'd moan his name, how your well-manicured nails would scratch his stomach with each rough thrust. Your bouncy breasts would bounce with each time he'd slam back inside you.

Damn, he really wants you. The passion in his actions and thoughts is palpable.

Lost in his pleasure, he doesn't hear the door to his room opening, nor does he see you kneeling between his legs. You're quiet as a mouse, observing his intimate moment, your heart racing with excitement.

"Rafe?..." You say, placing your hands on his thighs. Rafe's eyes snap open, and he sits up straight. The sudden intrusion snaps him out of his fantasy, and he looks at you, surprise written all over his face. "Y/n what are you—"

You silence him by wrapping your lips around his erection. Rafe moans, his head falling back and his hand tangling in your hair. The passion that was once just a fantasy now becomes a reality, and he can only manage broken words, "Y/n... that's..."

"Relax..." You groan as you lick the length of his shaft. "I've dreamed of this so much..." you whisper to yourself, lost in the moment. Rafe's hand tightens in your hair, and he starts thrusting gently, his other hand grasping the headboard for support.

You look up at him as you take him deeper into your mouth, his tip brushing against the back of your throat. He moans as he feels you take him so deep into your beautiful mouth.

His moans fill the room as you continue to suck him, his member stiffening further with each passing moment.

Your teeth lightly scrape against his skin, heightening the sensations. He grips your hair tighter and helps you bob your head faster and rougher, his hips bucking to meet your mouth. "You feel so good... just like that, Y/n..." he pants, his voice hoarse with desire.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you gag on his thickness. He growls one last time before spilling into your mouth, his hot seed sliding down your throat.

You savor the taste, your eyes fluttering closed as you swallow every last drop

You slowly rise from between his legs, your body trembling with satisfaction. Rafe watches you with a mix of awe and gratitude, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. "Come here..." he whispers, beckoning you to him.

You do as he says and sit on his lap, your lingering shyness causing him to chuckle. "We... can we fuck…?" you ask, biting your lip nervously. Rafe runs a hand through his hair before adjusting his glasses.

"You really have to ask?" he responds with a playful smirk. "Come here, I want to kiss you." He pulls you closer, his hands wrapping around your waist as his lips meet yours in a passionate, demanding kiss. 

His hands begin to roam, caressing your curves and pulling you even closer.

And before you know it, you're spending the night moaning his name ❤︎︎

☔︎︎✈︎

MY COMMAND ARE OPEN!!

[yenhan]

"Study session with the Lads"

Thoughts on TF141 & International student neighbor

Part One - Next - Masterlist

Synopsis: You'll ace the next exam, hopefully.

C’mon over tomorrow, we’ll help you prep for that exam. P.S. You can’t refuse, Captain’s orders.

Most people would think Johnny gave you his number first, being the hopeless flirt he was. But no, it was Kyle. Unlike his fellow former sergeant, Gaz was subtler, able to hide his true intentions behind easy smiles and clever banter. No less effective, mind you.

Then again, the whole 'old men adopting a stranded student' relationship was weird. A detail for your therapist next session, surely. Were you supposed to be worried? Get your head checked? Probably. Creating a found family with three British men and a hyperactive Scot wasn’t exactly listed under “Common Expat Experiences.”

Back to the present: you left Kyle’s message on read for half a second before sending a slightly-too-eager—

Of course!

You imagined a light revision, a few exercises, a cup of tea brewed by Simon just the way you liked, perhaps Soap dramatically imitating phonetic symbols to distract you from spiraling over your performance anxiety.

Certainly not this.

At exactly 1700 hours, you knocked on their door clutching your battered copy of Teaching English as a Foreign Language for Dummies and a highlighter that had lost the will to live halfway through your last grammar workshop.

“Highlight only the important parts,” your brother used to say. Sure. But what if everything was important?

The living room looked like a war zone… but not a gross, sock-strewn bachelor disaster. No, this was tactical mayhem. Soap’s footprints crisscrossed the carpet in suspicious patterns.

Your study notes had been printed, laminated, and tacked onto a corkboard. Snacks were stacked on the coffee table like sandbags. A flipchart had been set up beside the telly. Someone had written across it in bold, underlined red: OPERATION: ACE THE PAST PERFECT.

Price looked up from the kitchen, a mug in hand. “No pressure, kiddo. Just your entire teaching career.”

Ghost, leaning against the wall, nodded solemnly. “We’ve got biscuits.” Was that supposed to help?

Gaz shuffled a stack of index cards, color-coded with terrifying precision. “Who’s quizzing her first on the difference between the present simple and the present perfect?”

“Define the unlawful killing of a human being without malice!” Soap barked like a drill sergeant. You gaped at him. Why was he wearing a peaked military cap? It was even worse than John's boonie hat.

“Wrong subject, Johnny,” Price called from the kitchen. “We’re not teaching criminal interrogation tactics, it’s English grammar.”

“Aye, but keeps her sharp, doesnae it?”

You sat gingerly on the couch between Gaz and a mountain of flashcards. “I... appreciate the effort, truly. But, uh, how did you get my notes?”

And was that your favorite set of pastel pens peeking out of John’s pocket?

“Found them last week. Binder fell down the stairs. Took the liberty of reorganizin’ ‘em by theme.” Ghost’s voice came from somewhere dark and ominous.

“You color-coded grammar topics?” You squeaked.

“Course I did. I’m not a monster. Stuck to your precious Pinterest palette, too.”

Well… You couldn’t exactly argue with that.

The first twenty minutes went smoothly.

Gaz walked you through the major language acquisition theories — Krashen, Vygotsky, yada yada — with flashcards that had doodles of confused stick-figure students on the back. Price explained different classroom management styles like he was giving a battlefield briefing: “Adapt to your environment. Don’t lose command of the room.”

You nodded dutifully, and sometimes got rewarded with a brief, proud head pat.

Then Soap made his move.

“Right! I’ve built a memory palace,” he announced.

“A what.”

“Memory technique! Visualization! Top-tier stuff!” He dragged you into the hallway, where he had drawn on the walls with dry-erase markers. You weren’t hallucinating.

“See here?” He pointed at a doodle of a dragon labeled ‘Past Tense Pete’.

“This beastie guards all irregular verbs. Ye’ve gotta slay him with correct conjugations!”

“What is happening?!” You shrieked, staring in horror at the doodle of an adverbial goblin. John, your knight in shining mutton chops, came to your rescue.

“She asked for help revising!” Soap protested.

“I asked for basic revision, not a full Dungeons and Dragons campaign!”

You pointed dramatically at Johnny, ready to throw him under the bus called ‘Captain Price.’

While Price and Soap bickered about the ethical limits of creative teaching aids, Gaz slipped a flashcard into your hand... CONDITIONALS: First vs. Second – Remember: If I win the lottery, I will freak out. If I won the lottery, I would freak out.

Genius? Madness? Hard to tell.

Then Ghost, quietly but ruthlessly, dragged a chair into the center of the room.

“Quiz time. No fluff. Answer fast, or you owe me a push-up.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I am not doing push-ups over auxiliary verbs.”

“Then don’t get them wrong.”

And he began rapid-firing questions: “What’s the communicative approach? How many types of conditional sentences? Example of a weak modal verb?”

You answered, getting most of them right. You were still terrified.

And then, from the kitchen: “QUIZ TIME’S OVER, I MADE A POWERPOINT!” The Scot roared.

—

At some point, you were cross-legged on the carpet, biscuit crumbs on your notes, explaining the importance of student talking time versus teacher talking time while they all nodded proudly like awkward but loving uncles.

“You’ll smash it,” The captain finally said, clapping a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“If not,” Soap winked, “we’ll sneak into the university database and ‘fix’ it.”

“Please don’t,” you whimpered.

As you packed your things, Ghost quietly handed you a neat stack of flashcards. “Keep these. I made extra copies.”

You flipped through them: clear, minimalist, perfect. You smiled. “Thanks, Batman.”

His eyes crinkled behind the mask. “You’re welcome, Robin.”

Your notes had never been clearer. Your brain, however, felt flash-banged by a PowerPoint titled “How to Conquer the Passive Voice Like a Spartan.”

You would never forget the dragon guarding irregular verbs.

[marilearnsmandarin]

These are the apps and links I currently have on my phone to study Chinese:

SuperChinese: my main study resource. There are currently 7 levels, level 7 (still incomplete, they are still slowly adding lessons to it) being HSK 5 stuff. Each lesson has vocabulary, grammar and a short dialogue where those are used in context (I love context). It has a few free lessons in the lower levels but after that you have to buy a subscription. There are many sales though. When I was a beginner I used HelloChinese instead, which has more free content, and switched to SuperChinese when I finished all the free content there. It also has social network features and chat rooms I don't use.

TofuLearn is like a flashcard app with many pre-made decks (you can also create your own on their website and import decks from Anki) and the option to practice writing hanzi. Anki didn't work for me, but I find Tofu very helpful. Practicing writing helps me with character recognition, and it also helps me remember the tones thanks to the audio in the pre-made HSK decks.

Dot is a reading app with new texts being added every day. It used to be completely free, which actually seemed too good to be true, and then they put practically everything behind a paywall and very strict limits for free users. After a couple of months they made it a little less restricted though - we still can't choose the articles but we can read as many as we want as long as we do the vocabulary exercises after each article (plus, during the Spring Festival, they made all articles available for free for 3 days and we could save the ones we were interested in to read later). It follows the new, not-yet-implemented (and harder) HSK levels, so you should start one or two levels below yours and if the texts are too easy move up.

Google Translator: not the best but helpful when I need to translate whole sentences, plus I can point my camera or open an image and it translates writing.

Pleco: best Chinese to English dictionary.

Stroke Order: not an app but a website, does what it says in the tin: shows stroke order for a specific character.

YouGlish: also a website, you can put a word or phrase and it shows videos where people say that word/phrase. Very cool.

Todaii is a graded news app that has only two levels: easy and hard. I'm around level HSK4 and the "easy" level is quite hard though (but I admit reading is my nemesis).

I also use YouTube and Spotify a lot.

[bisexualiteaa]

No Life Queen

Alucard X Fem Reader

SMUT! MDNI

CW: vampires, established relationship, secrecy, reader is a vampire, reader has hair, brief mentions of canon typical violence/gore, cursing, pet names, praise, biting, brief mention of alcohol, bl00d drinking, mentions of bl00d, p in v, unprotected seggs, cream 🥧, mention of 0ral (fem receiving), reader works for Hellsing Organization, slight ooc Alucard, smut with fluffy ending, p0rn w/o plot, p0rn with feelings, possible grammar or spelling errors, HEAVILY proof read

A/N: I know this will likely be for a niche audience, but in my opinion there isn’t enough about this lovely man on this app I don’t think. In the spirit of Halloween (and for being down bad for him for an entire decade) I felt it was appropriate! I hope you all enjoy. Happy spooky season to you all! ♥️

The sounds of your joyous laughter and sweet voice could be heard from the dimly lit lair, resonating from deep within the winding depths of the vast Hellsing estate as you laid next to your vampiric lover. Your body lay bare, save for the silk red sheets wrapped around you to afford you a semblance of decency and warmth from the bitterly cold air. He had no need for a bed, he spent so long sleeping in the dank, dark depths of the basement which he calls home, or within the confines of his well built, ornate coffin but it was a luxury you loved, so without hesitation he had one placed there for you. All under the guise of him simply “being curious” as to how modern beds feel. He knew well how they felt, he’d taken on his fair share of lovers in the past, and those nights where he would sneak into your room to be with you during the fleeting beginning stages of your budding romance. So he wasn’t ignorant to how they felt, but he felt it was a good enough excuse to give should anyone dare ask why. Your hair sat pooled against the well-decorated pillowcases for the pillows he only kept around for you, freed from its usual ties whilst on duty. You hummed lightly and happily as your hand rested against his broad chest, looking up at him with all the love in the world as a smile danced across your sweet, kiss swollen lips. You regarded Alucard with your whole heart, and never anything less. You knew well that your lover was a man that possessed unfathomable amounts of power, and harnessed the capabilities to slaughter those whom he wished in the mere blink of an eye. Yet with you, he was anything but those terrible things that others knew him for. With you, the vampire king was no longer the monster others claimed him to be. With you, he was no longer a creature to be feared, no longer a servant to exercise his master’s bidding. With you, it was the closest he’s ever felt to being human again in centuries because in your presence, he was nothing more than a man who was so emphatically in love with the woman that was lying before him. And in your eyes, you could never see him as anything less than perfection, for he’s never afforded you anything less.

He delighted in the sensation of your soft, gentle touch that only you could offer him in such a pleasurable way. Longing to feel your much smaller hands pressed against his cold, pale, and unblemished skin. Yearning for the way your fingers stroked through his long, raven black locks with such affection that left him like putty in your very hands. He enjoyed how your hand, despite its now cold nature compared to the warmth you once held when you were human, would cup his cheek with such gentle serenity. How you would handle him as if he were made of porcelain, as if he was the one that was easy to shatter. No one had ever held him in such a gentle way before, touched his skin with such feather-light placidity, knowing only what it’s like to have held others in such a fashion but never had the sentiment been returned to him in kind until he’d met you. He was downright addicted to the tender caress of your thumb stroking his jaw, as if tracing his edges like he was chiseled from the finest but most fragile stone. You looked upon him like a work of art, as if he were crafted skillfully by the hands of a master artisan then given the gift of life. He was breathtaking, and to think that you were the one lucky enough to have enthralled him, to have captured his heart, was truly remarkable. He would argue however that he was the one truly fortunate enough to have earned your respect, to have earned your love and praise. He needed it from no one else aside from you, anyone else’s thoughts or opinions be damned. His servitude may be to Integra, but his true fealty was to you.

Your crimson eyes stared into his vermillion ones as if he were the man who hung the very stars that freckled the night sky. He cherished you, adored you, worshipped you even. You with your undying love and most pure of affections. You were unreal to him, ethereal almost. Like a goddess who descended the heavens and was somehow captivated by such a pitiful creature such as himself. Granting him such unwavering kindness, such unrelenting generosity that he felt as if he did not deserve. He could hardly believe at times that someone as kind, someone as gentle as you existed in a world that had always proven so cruel, let alone that you could ever fall in love with a fiend like him. Someone who held so much bitterness towards the world, someone with such an affinity for danger, violence and gore. You were polar opposites, yet strikingly similar all the same. He would never take it for granted however, because even on his worst days, you were always there. You were always the comforting light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. The grounding anchor to his ship that sailed an unrelentingly raging sea. You were his peace, his serenity, sitting with your arms outstretched for him to rest between, and ever ready to listen and share in his burdens whatever they may be.

No one knew of the romance you and the vampire king shared, not even Sir Integra herself knew about it. It was a well guarded secret that lay only within the confines of his room, and the rare but fleeting moments you were granted when you were alone and away from any prying eyes or ears. Your meetings always started out the same, and even remained the same to this day. A routine of you sneaking off from your room and into the halls at night, under the guise of delivering to him his meal. No one ever suspected it to be a rouse. Much less an act to allow you to get closer to your lover, using the sanguine nectar as a means to spend time with him where you would have the utmost privacy. In fact, the guards who were normally placed on that duty thanked you for taking their place, unable to bring themselves to make the cold, unsettling trek down to the depths where he resided. Therefore you had no one to send you questioning glances, or overhear any suspicious whispers. To them, you were a vampire who simply wasn’t afraid of him or his capabilities. No one else dared get close to his chambers however, some even going as far to tell tales of those who never made it back alive from the treacherous journey, or of his ravenous hunger to scare anyone who may be new to the estate and don’t quite know of him yet. Many complained that they felt as if there were eyes in the very walls surrounding them, watching as they made their descent into the darkness that was his place of rest, or even just through out the day during their shifts and as they would wander around through the vast hallways. He struck fear into the hearts of many, especially into those of mortal kind, but to you, he was just Alucard.

“You are a most delicious sight like this, Draga mea” he praised as the sheet you lay beneath began to slide down just a tad, revealing some of your bare frame to the frigid air of his den. His eyes raked across your body each time as if it was the first time he was seeing you, making you hum appreciatively at the compliment and the term of endearment spoken in his native tongue. You felt as his large hand began to glide along the curvature of your hip and the dip of your waist with a feather light touch, sending goose flesh to raise along your skin. “If you wish to feed from me, you know you need only ask” you teased with a grin, knowing his compliment came from a genuine place, but your romance was built on humor and trust. He knew better than to think you’d only regard his words in a manipulative manner. “Well if my queen is offering herself to me, how could I say no to such kindness?” He quipped in return, making you chuckle as he placed strategic, searing kisses along the column of your neck, being sure to strum each sensitive spot before kissing down your shoulder and trailing down your arm. You giggled softly as he made his descent, grabbing your hand in his much larger one before turning it over and placing a soft kiss to your wrist just above your pulse point. “Is a whole bottle no longer enough to sate you, my dear? I can have them procure more for you, you need only say the word” You asked, half teasing, half genuine. Your tone filled with concern and playfulness in a harmony that only could ever come so blissfully from you. A melodic language only spoken between the two of you and the two of you alone. “Shall I frighten them with the tales of your insatiable appetite? Perhaps that would persuade them to donate more” you volunteered, making him give a hearty laugh in reply. “How I cherish the thought of you frightening them with such a tale” he responded, making you giggle as you pictured the horrified facial expressions and terrified trembles you would receive in reply. “But in truth, bottle proves nowhere near as appetizing to me when compared to the taste of you at the height of euphoria. The adrenaline coursing through you, the sweetness of its taste is better than any wine could ever offer. Even the most decadent ambrosia pales in comparison to you, Draga mea” He continued, sweet talking you in that deep, baritone voice that always left your heart racing and a fire dwelling within the depths of your core. He always knew just the right words to say, both a blessing and a curse in its own right. His response earned a hum of amusement from you. “I was too caught up in the fire that was in your gaze to have gotten a taste of you. I was afraid should my attention falter, the beast within you would relinquish” he added, his lips finding their way to the column of your neck, his nose brushing against the sensitive spots there to rise gooseflesh to your skin, his lips just barely ghosting where your pulse would typically reside. You tilted your head to the side to allow him better access, allowing him free rein of your throat to do as he pleased. “Suffice to say, our shared feast left me quite…distracted” he finished, laying more searing kisses to your neck, making you hum and moan softly in approval, telling you all of his reasons why you should allow him to feed from you. His eagerness made you giggle as you recalled the way you were seated on his lap just moments ago, warming his cock and soon riding him as you both shared in feeding one another glasses of the sanguine liquid that once filled the now empty bottle. Your hands found their way to the back of his head and neck, keeping him in place as a show to continue his ministrations as your eyes fluttered shut with bliss. “Perhaps I should speak of your insatiable hunger” you teased, making him groan and chuckle into the crook of your neck as he kept himself pressed tightly against you.

“Have you another problem needing resolved already, my dear? We’ve hardly had enough time to enjoy the afterglow yet” you teased, making him grin as he detached himself from you to defend himself. “I hadn’t heard you complaining whilst you were seated on my tongue, or how quickly things carried on from there after I brought you to such dizzying climax twice from it” he bit back playfully, his fangs peaking from his wide, cocky grin. “And why ever would I? There certainly isn’t anything to complain about” you replied, flashing your fangs in a grin that mirrored his own making him hum in reply, satisfied with your response but amused all the same. How cute those fangs looked nestled into your already gorgeous smile. Something so perfectly wicked entwined with someone so preciously sweet. How it brought him such joy that you now carried a piece of him with you wherever you went, and would for the rest of eternity. Knowing that anyone who dare step to you with harmful intentions, would see a bit of him in you. That they would see his power radiate from you, feel his threatening aura travel along side you like an omniscient deity. He couldn’t help the pride that swelled within him to know that he was not only your lover, but your protector. How it pained him to know that you would have to share in his agony of having to watch those around you that you cared about parish while you remain the same, that you would outlive those who held no super natural persuasion to stop the onward marching of time. Yet a slightly twisted, much darker side that resided deep within him, felt almost prideful in the way that his dark corruption snuck within you, tainting the otherwise pristine purity you usually carried. Like a white dress being stained red from the scarlet shades of blood pooling beneath its fabric, one could argue you were tainted, besmirched, ruined even. He would argue that you were even more beautiful than you were before. His perfect little love.

His no life queen

“You may indulge in me, but only if you ask nicely” you replied playfully, making him grin at your response but he would always heed your word for he never wished to displease you. He was a gentleman after all, where were his manners? “Would you kindly allow me to have my fill of you, dearest?” He asked, making you hum as if you had to actually give it any thought. You never did. The answer would *forever* be yes. “You may” you responded kindly, a giggle leaving you as you leaned closer to him, your noses brushing together before turning your head to allow your lips to intertwine once more. Your hand came to cup his cheek tenderly, in that oh-so-loving manner you always did. He could truly never get enough of you. Your lips danced upon each others with sensual warmth, tongues tangling together, fangs nicking lips with playful bites. Before long, his mouth descended upon your throat once again, his nose ghosting the sensitive skin and catching whiff of your intoxicating aroma before his tongue glided along his favorite spot. You tilted your head back to allow him more access, your eyes falling shut blissfully as you felt his tongue circle the junction between your neck and shoulder. The sheet by now had slipped from you fully, revealing your bare chest to the gelid temperature of his chambers, feeling your pebbled nipples pressed against his bare chest as your hands weaved into his hair. You waited for that moment with bated breath, for the icy prick of his fangs to pierce your skin, but instead were greeted by the distraction of his fingers diving down to your aching cunt. The pad of his finger worked slow, rhythmic circles against your clit, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as a sweet sigh left your lips. “Alucard…” you moaned, making him groan deeply in response, the sound almost feral as it rumbled within his chest. He found himself salivating at the prospect of your flavor, at the overwhelming scent of your arousal mixed with his distinct musk. His hunger was hitting a fever pitch, finding it harder as the moments passed to contain himself and play with you to the full extent he wished to. You are his most delectable treat after all.

He groaned as your nimble fingers tangled within his long black hair, moaning and squirming from the pleasure being brought to you by just one of his fingers alone. It was pathetic almost, the way you were rendered to such madness, such utter hedonism with so little being offered to you, but it was nearly overwhelming all the same. “My precious queen, how deliciously sensitive you are for me” he remarked, a deep chuckle and a grin following his words as you gasped from the feeling of his fingers dipping inside of you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head once more, mouth agape in a silent wail as the tips of his fingers located your most vulnerable spots with practiced precision. “Alucard…” you sighed blissfully as he leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet, intimate kiss. You moaned into it, your fingers dragging along the sinew of his back leaving behind angry, red marks that you knew would only remain for a very short period of time. He groaned into your shared kiss, working his fingers into you with practiced expertise, being sure to tease that bundle of nerves deep inside of you with the pads of his long, nimble fingers. As his fingers would curl against your walls, his thumb was rubbing tight, methodical circles along your clit to bring you even closer to your release. “Fuck…” you moaned into the kiss, feeling that knot in the pit of your stomach begin to grow tighter with each stroke. Your hips began to buck against his fingers, riding them, chasing the euphoric friction that sent shock waves of pleasure through you. “Doing so well for me, fucking yourself on my fingers” he praised, looking down at the sight of you spread on his digits, listening to the sinful sounds of your slick granting him access to your very core. “Feels…s’ good” you managed to get out, making him chuckle at your pathetic reply. It didn’t take much to reduce you to near delirium, whether it be from his fingers, his tongue, his teeth or his cock, he was quite skilled in the many areas of your pleasure. “Cum for me, Draga mea. Sing for me” he encouraged, his lips once again finding that spot on your neck that always sent you reeling, waiting for the perfect moment to sink his teeth into you. Waiting for the telling signs that bliss was just around the corner for you.

Once his sharp fangs finally sank into the tender flesh of your neck, it was electric, sending you toppling over the edge into the most intense, nearly all-consuming orgasm. Pain and pleasure melded together in a wonderful memory of what it had felt like the first time his fangs pierced your skin, gulping down your sweet essence as he turned you. Electric pulses soared down through your spine, lighting your every nerve ending on fire in a sadistically sensual way that you only craved to feel from him. His eyes rolled beneath shut lids at the taste of you, gulping down your dulcet ichor yet remaining mindful enough to savor its flavor. He groaned into you at the taste, feeling the ache between his legs throb with vigor as your orgasm pulsed through your body. How he craved you so desperately in this moment. To be intertwined with you, lost in you and the woes of passion that entwines you. It appeared that he could wait no longer.

In the blink of an eye, the sheets were ripped from your grasp, exposing your body to his view once more. He needed you, and it was evident by the ever growing wetness in your core that you needed him too.

Once he’d had his fill he released his jaws from you, cleaning up the mess of your shoulder, and his lips, the best that he could with his tongue alone. You watched as his long, almost pointed tongue cleaned the remnants of your blood from his lips, but what he hadn’t noticed was the small trickle that cascaded from the corner of his mouth. Your fingers grasped his chin softly, allowing you to tilt and move his face as you needed. You smiled at him before you leaned up to collect the trail of crimson that dripped from the corner of his mouth onto your tongue. You hummed pleasantly before pulling him into a passionate kiss, wishing to taste more of your sweet decadence from his lips. You felt the grin rise to the corners of his mouth before you could see it, but upon drawing back, you saw the smeared red mess left behind. “How succulent you are” he stated, breaking the silence between you. “Only the finest for you, my king. Would you grant me an indulgence of you in return, dearest?” You asked, lying on your back beneath him now, making him laugh at such a meek question being asked in such a seductive tone. “As if I could ever deny you, my love” he replied, lining himself up to your entrance before slipping in slowly, allowing you to acclimate to his size. He watched your face twist with both pain and pleasure as he sheathed himself within you. It didn’t matter how many times you would share intimacy with him, his sheer size alone always left you with that bittersweet stretch as if it were your first time taking him in. He adored how your hair fell around the pillow beneath your head like a halo, how your chest rose and fell with each labored breath brought about by the pleasure he brought you once a pace was set. You were ethereal. He swore it. Perfect in ways he thought were impossible. Yet here you lay before him, scarlet eyes gazing up at him with wonder and lust but above all else;

Love.

His hips pistoned into you as he lowered himself to hover just above you, his large hands splayed out by the sides of your head. He watched you litter his skin with feather light kisses as you ascended up his arm to his neck, soon hovering over the same spot that he enjoyed feeding from you so often. His hips seemed to roll on their own, almost desperate, accord as your tongue dragged along the favored spot, leaving him to shiver with anticipation of when you would take from him. Much like Alucard, you had a tendency towards playfulness, enjoying the delightful shivers, and hedonistic groans as you would tease him, working him up to the blissful moment. One might say you like to play with your food. Your eyes flit to his own that rest behind shut lids, basking in the tightness and wet feel of your cunt wrapped so snuggly around him. You gave a grin before finally you sank your teeth into him, feeling his girth twitch and throb within you at the sounds you made as you fed from him. “That’s it, take from me. Take from me everything you need, my love. I am yours as you are mine” he rambled through his groans of pleasure, rutting into you deeply and reaching those spots within you that left your head spinning. He groaned at the mix or your moans that lay in harmony with the feral sounds of you feeding from him only working to further turn him on. The searing pain of your sharp fangs buried into his neck, mixing with the pleasure of your delicious cunt wrapped around him so perfectly left him nearly delirious.

Once you had finally detached yourself from him, he understood the appeal of the sight he had graced you with before, finding himself following your previous actions. His tongue traced the small stream of his blood that leaked from the corner of your lips, collecting it all before tangling his tongue with your own in a frenzied kiss. His hand grabbed at your thigh, propping your leg up against his hip to reach deeper within you. As if he wasn’t deep enough already, his tip bullying the apex of your cervix with each thrust. Had you a fertile human womb still, you’d worry about leaving his chambers pregnant from just how often you found yourselves tangled together within his sheets. “Draga mea…” he whispered lovingly against your lips as you gasped and moaned, your mind hazed and nearly blank as the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the depths of his chambers. He watched as you writhed beneath him in ecstasy, how your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts. He simply couldn’t get enough of you. “You are perfection, my sweet” he praised, making you whimper as the familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach began to grow tight, already so sensitive and worked up from him playing with you before. “Cum for me, my love. Delight me with your ecstasy” he cooed, watching you bite your lip and your face contort as you reached closer and closer to your breaking point. It was as his fingers reached down to toy with your clit, rubbing circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves that pushed you over the edge. Your body arched against his, a cry of bliss leaving your lips as your climax washed over you mercilessly. Your every nerve ending wrecked and body alight from the pleasure as you dug your nails into his back with a cry of his name. “How delicious you are” he replied, watching as your breaths grew labored, your chest rising and falling in tandem with each deep inhale then exhale as you made your descent from cloud nine. His movements began to lose their rhythm, signaling to you that his release was just around the corner. You smiled up at him, hand resting delicately on his cheek as he looked down upon you. “I love you” you whispered in declaration, earning a smile from him before causing him to lean down and take your lips in a heated kiss. He groaned into it as his seed painted your walls with each thrust, his hips moving with much more softness now than they had before, much slower, as he worked to bury every last drop within you, effectively marking you his. “I love you too, my queen” he replied, making you giggle happily as you shared in the intimate moment and passion filled kiss. You wrapped your arms around your vampiric lover, keeping him as close to you as possible, wishing to revel in the sacchar of your still conjoined bodies.

You couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from deep within you as he collapsed on top of you, his full weight baring down on you. You wriggled and fought to free yourself of his weight, yet try as you might, you also couldn’t help but find comfort in it. Peace in knowing that he felt safe with you to be this way, that he could be vulnerable and playful with you in ways he has never shared with anyone else. You ran your delicate fingers up and down the expanse of his back, effectively granting him a moment of much welcomed tranquility in your arms. If there was one thing in this entire world that he wished for most, he wished only to spend the rest of eternity this way, with love in his heart, and you to share it all with. With you, forever no longer felt so bleak. With you, eternal life felt as vivacious as mortal life, and he wouldn’t dare to dream of it any other way now that he had you beside him.

[cmncisspnandmore]

One Night Stand; Part 6

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley X Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Shower smut, Slight breeding kink if you squint, Simon Riley being a literal angel, basically all smut with a little bit of plot.

A/N: Hi loves, imma be real, i wrote this entire part in a day. I spent pretty much my entire afternoon writing this after i scrapped about 4 different versions. This is the best i got at the moment. Im still working on this series and requests. Just life is kinda busy. So please bear with me and enjoy the brain rot. This is also not proofread at all so RIP to any grammar police.

Word Count: 3012... This seemed longer.. sowwie, its smol.

New to the Series? Catch up here: Part 5

You sleepily make your way towards the bathroom door, hand closing over the knob as the incessant need to pee urges you forward. It was a little after 2am, you had fallen asleep rather early having spent most of the day lounging around the apartment. 

Simon was on base for the day, running training exercises with Soap, Gaz and Captain Price. During the 3 months you have been living with Simon, you have come to learn his patterns. Training days meant that 9 times out of 10 he would spend the night on base. The days before a deployment he would make sure to stock the fridge and pantry with your favorites. On Sundays he did laundry, every 3rd wednesday he would get his haircut. Saturdays after returning for deployment were reserved for going out to Soap’s bar and having a well deserved drink. You also learnt his day to day routine, every morning he was home Simon rose at exactly 5:00am, went on a 12 mile run, when he returned if you weren't already awake he would prepare you a healthy breakfast and leave it out for you before heading to work. 

On days when you were awake when he got back from his run he would shower, and you both would spend some time preparing breakfast together. Although those mornings instead of the nutritionally packed meals he usually prepared you often convinced him to make some sort of carb and sugar filled breakfast. Those mornings he would often leave the flat grumbling about how he should’ve run extra. Those mornings were your favorite. 

Since you moved in your relationship with Simon had not progressed further than friends, sure there was still the burning desire that he ignited within you from just looking at you. And you would often linger just a little bit too long in his arms when he would give you a hug. But there hadn't been any kissing, and you haven't managed to end up naked in between his sheets. But that wasn't for lack of wanting.

As you shove open the bathroom door, you fail to realize that not only was the light on but the sound of running water was coming from the shower. As you quickly beeline for the enclosed toilet space, you don't feel a set of brown eyes watching your every move from behind the foggy glass. It isn't until you wash your hands in the sink and glance up into the large mirror on the wall that you realize you aren't alone. Through the fogged glass of the mirror you can make out Simon’s large silhouette, his tanned skin reduced to nothing more than a tan blob. 

“Oh my god!” You squeak, whirling around, your chest heaving as you finally face Simon. He's mostly obscured by the fogged glass door of the walk-in shower, but his bemused smile is clear. “I didn't think you would be coming home!” You mutter out, your cheeks turning pink as he runs his hand across the glass cleaning away some of the fog. Now you can clearly see his face, although distorted by the water droplets on the glass. 

“I should’ve texted you, I'm sorry.. I just didn't want to be late for the appointment in the morning..” Simon says as he reaches up, running his hand through his wet blonde hair.

“No, no! I'm sorry, I should've paid more attention. I'm such an airhead sometimes I didn't realize that there was someone in here..” you rush out as you try to desperately keep your eyes from straying from Simon's face. You aren’t sure if it's the heat from the shower or the pregnancy hormones but it takes all your willpower to keep your eyes from trailing down his toned body. 

Simon pauses for a moment, his dark brown eyes trailing over you, from the adorable flush of your cheeks to the swell of your stomach under the sleep shirt you have on. “It’s alright. Love," Simon smiles. One of his panty dropping smiles that you swear he reserves for only you. It's the smile that sends shivers straight to your core. That leaves you a hot panting mess behind closed doors. Living with Simon and not jumping his bones at every opportunity was damn near torture during your second trimester. You were able to take care of things yourself, but now that your bump had grown substantially, you hadn’t been able to find relief.  

Without thinking, you walk towards the shower and yank open the door, the hot steam pouring out. Little splashes of water hit your skin as you step into the small space. Your sleep shirt and shorts quickly drenched, as Simon stares at you wide eyed. 

“Sweetheart…” Simon warns as your hands come to rest on his wet cheeks, your thumb catching on his bottom lip as he looks down at you, his pupils blown wide. You quickly close the space between you two, your bump pressing against the firm plains of his abs, your arms snaking around his neck as you sharply tug him down to your height. Your lips capture his in a sloppy, wet kiss. Simon groans low in his throat, his chest vibrating against your overly sensitive breasts. A new wave of need pluses through you as you try to get closer, Simon's cock jumping to life as it presses against your lower stomach. Simon's large hands land on your hips squeezing slightly as he turns you, pressing your back against the cold tile wall of the shower. 

A startled gasp rushes past your lips as your back makes contact with the cold tile. A shiver running through you as your wet shirt makes it feel colder. Simon smiles against your lips, one hand coming up to graze over your pebbled nipples through the sopping wet fabric of your shirt. A breathy moan slips from you as Simon peppers kisses down the side of your jaw to your neck. The spray from the showerhead now sprays off his shoulders as he leans lower. 

“Fuck.. Please,” you whine, nails scratching along the tops of his shoulders Simon wraps his lips around one of your nipples, over the fabric of your shirt. The friction from the wet fabric sends waves of pleasure through you straight to your core, your legs starting to shake with need and Simon has barely touched you.

“Such a needy girl…” Simon murmurs against your skin, as he flicks his tongue across your nipple. Your cheeks flush pink at his words but you’re hanging on to each one like they’re your life line. “Why didn't you just come to me if you needed some help baby?” Simon whispers softly, as his fingers trace the bottom of your bump, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt as he pushes it up.

“I…I don't know,” You mumble your head tipping back against the cold shower wall. 

Simon hums, his lips once again brushing across one of your nipples, pulling another moan from you. “God, your tits are amazing. It’s been hell walking around trying not to stare at them. Knowing that my child is the reason, knowing that they are growing to provide milk for our baby,” Simon whispers against your skin, and you swear you could cum just from the sounds of his voice. 

“Simon… Please…” you whine, it's small and breathy, in any other circumstance you would be ashamed for sounding so weak, but right now you couldn't give two shits if the damn queen of England was standing here witnessing your plea.

“Tell me what you need baby, I don't want to hurt you..” Simon stands back to his full height, his hand coming to cup the side of your face. You force your eyes open, Simon's beautiful brown eyes staring at you. Simon is a large man, in all aspects of his life and the last thing he would ever want to do is hurt you unintentionally. Especially now, as you carry his child within you, he would rather be buried alive again than accidentally do something to hurt you or the baby.

“I need you to bend me over and fuck me senseless. I feel like I'm going to explode,” you whine, your needy hands coming to rake down his bare chest, sending a shiver through Simon's entire body. 

“Whatever you need, Love,” Simon grunts before he bends down and picks you up, nudging open the shower door with his shoulder as he cradles you against his wet chest. He doesn’t stop to turn off the shower or even dry himself off as he brings you into his room. He sets you down on your feet and quickly drops to his knees in front of you. His still warm hands catching the waistband of your wet sleep shorts. He pulls them down your legs, goosebumps erupting across your skin from the sudden change in temperature. 

Simon presses a series of soft kisses to the stretched skin of your stomach, his hands briefly cupping your belly/ “Hi Lovie,” he whispers softly to your bump and if you weren’t so ravishingly horny you could cry. The sight of probably one of the scariest men you know on his knees in front of you talking to his unborn child makes you want to scream in the best way. But your mind quickly goes blank as Simon's fingers trace the smooth skin of your inner thigh. 

“Turn around, elbows on the bed, pet,” Simon stands again, his hands on your shoulders as he gently turns you. As if on autopilot you lean forwards, resting your elbows on the bed, giving Simon a perfect view of your ass. A deep groan hits your ears as Simon's hand comes to massage the puffy flesh of your ass. Your skin prickles with anticipation as his fingers dip lower, gathering the slick wetness from between your thighs. The breath wooshed from your lungs as he thrusts one finger into your slick cunt. 

“You’re so wet for me, such a good girl aren't you?” Simon hums, lazily thrusting his finger before he adds a second. You tip your hips back, trying to make him go faster, this slow languid pace he was setting was driving you mad. You needed to be fucked, and god damn if you didn't get it right now you were going to cry. 

“Si…” you whine, pushing your hips back into his hand as he curls his fingers within you. 

“Hmm?”

“I’m pregnant, not made of fucking glass. I swear if you don't fu-” Your voice cuts off as Simon slams into you in one quick thrust. Your world spins for a moment and if you hadn't been holding onto the bed for support you would’ve fallen over. A startled gasp passes your lips and Simon all but freezes. “No please don't stop, it just feels different but not in a bad way…” You quickly mumble reaching back haphazardly with one hand to try and grab Simon's hip to force him to move.  

“You sure?” Simon mumbles, his hands coming to rest on your hips, as he slowly pulls out before sinking back in. 

“Oh god, yes, please,” you moan, your face now pressed into the mattress. That was all it took for Simon to continue, his hips thrust into you at a rapid pace, obscene moans leaving your lips as he slams home each time. Sex felt different this time, there was no slight burn from how big Simon was but you felt full, so deliciously full. You had been worried about having sex at any point during your pregnancy, having read that some women have no sex drive during pregnancy, especially the 3rd trimester. But thank the lord above it was not the case for you. Your thoughts turn to nothing as Simon lets out a harsh moan, your walls fluttering around him. 

“Fuck baby, you’re squeezing me so tight,” Simon grunts as he adjusts his grip on your hip bones,his fingertips digging into your skin.

“Feels so good Simon.. I'm gonna cum..” You whimper as the familiar coil in your stomach tightens, teetering on the edge of release as he pounds into you. Your skin slapping against each other so loud you're sure the neighbors know what's going on.

“Cum for me baby,” Simon leans forward, one hand wrapping around your shoulder as he pulls you up slightly, your elbows no longer resting on the bed as he pulls you up against his chest. His hips still pistoning into you as he uses the new position to fuck into your harder. You reach up and grab the back of his neck with your hand, anchoring yourself to him, your other hand coming to find the hand still on your waistline. You guide his hand up to your throat where he gives it a gentle squeeze. 

That small squeeze was all you needed to go tumbling over the edge into oblivion. Stars dance in front of your vision as the world goes quiet for a moment. Simon finds his own release moments after yours, his entire body tensing behind you. As you turn to putty in his arms, “Woah, I’ve got you,” Simon whispers into your sweaty hairline as his arms carefully wrap around you and he manages to slip out of you and hold you up. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, fully sated as you lean against his chest. You can feel his heart hammering against your back, one arm firmly around you, right under your breasts the other resting lightly on your bump. His fingers softly rubbing along your soft skin. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Simon grunts, maneuvering you to the edge of the bed where he helps lower you into it. 

“I just basically jumped you in the shower… “ you mutter, your eyes heavy as exhaustion hits you like a freight train hitting a brick wall. 

Simon pauses as he gathers your wet pj’s from the floor and shoves them into his laundry basket. “You think I would be upset by you jumping me in the shower?” He asks, a small smile on his face. 

You lift your head, watching as he shoves the clothes into the basket and grabs a black long sleeve shirt from the closet. He walks over, standing in front of you still in all his naked glory, the shirt in his hands. “Well.. I mean.. we haven’t exactly expressed wanting more than friendship..” 

“Love, I’ve been taking it slow because I thought you only wanted to be friends… not because I wanted to. God, watching you walk around the apartment, your stomach growing with my child drives me insane, I’ve wanted to bend you over the kitchen counter and fuck you sensless every morning since the first day you got here.” Simon pulls the shirt over your head, and you put your arms through, the shirt still fits loosely even over your baby bump. 

“Oh…” you freeze for a moment, you and Simon had gotten closer over the time you’ve lived with him. You had learnt about his past, about his mother and brother. About his nephew. You held him when he cried one night, his words a broken mess of how he was afraid he would turn out to be his dad. How he wished he could talk to his brother one last time, so he could ask him how he got past the fear of turning into his dad. How he handled the fear of being a dad when he had Joseph.

But the entire time you had lived together Simon had always treated you with respect, he never touched your stomach without asking. He always made sure to keep a respectable distance from you when you were on the couch. He never entered your room without permission and never asked about your life before coming to London. 

But it wasn’t to say you didn’t share things with Simon, he knew your favorite color, your worst fear (unrelated to your family’s passing) , your greatest wish, he knew what you used to dream about being as a little kid. He knew that your favorite food could make you smile on your worst days, and that you liked to watch old sitcoms when it rained. If someone was to look into your conversations they would probably think you were already together. That you probably didn’t flaunt the physical aspects of your relationship. Simon had quickly broken down the walls you had put up around yourself, and had comfortably made his own spot in your heart.

Simon sits next to you, now dressed in a pair of black sweatpants, his large hand covering yours. You slowly look up at him, his brow furrowed as he studies your face. The small scar in his eyebrow evident this close, you reach out running a finger across it. The skin is slightly raised and water drips from his hair onto your finger.

“Then you should stop fighting the urge…” you finally whisper, your hand cupping the rough skin of Simon’s face. 

“Would you be okay with that? With me touching you whenever I wanted… holding you.. kissing you?” Simon whispers, his eyes closing for a moment as he leans into your hand.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, your forehead coming to rest against his, your eyes closed. For a moment you just sit there. Your foreheads pressed together, your breath mingling.

Could you be okay with that?

Could you let someone in that way?

Let someone get close enough that they could see all the broken and jagged edges of you?

Could you open yourself up to losing someone again?

The thought of Simon being gone suddenly, ripped away from you by some unknown, the same person who ripped your siblings and mother away from you makes you want to vomit.

But a small part of you chimes in, the part that knows Simon isn’t defenseless like your family was. Simon was a trained military man, a man who single handedly killed an entire crew for crossing him. He could handle himself. He had proved that time and time again in the field. He also had the rest of 141, the team who would go to the ends of the earth to find him. 

You open your eyes, and look at Simon, the answer on the tip of your tongue as you stare at his beautiful face. His light blonde stubble, the small scars, the crook in his nose, the slightly uneven line of his lower lip. “Yes… I-I want that.. I want all of it.”

Next Part: 7

Taglist: @coffeeandtealol, @natashamea18

[choshashio]

Copywork and how it makes Better Writers.

What is Copywork? Copywork is the act of copying a paragraph or passage from a novel you like. Isn't that just plagiarism? No, while you are copying what another author wrote, copywork isn't for the purpose of publishing. It's an exercise for improving your understanding of sentence structure, grammar, vocabulary, metaphor usage, and more, while helping you sound like the author you admire.

Who uses Copywork? Originally, copywork was invented by scribes to help preserve knowledge. These scribes would hand write every detail of whatever important texts they wanted to save. But it became more popular by writers like, Scott Fitzgerald who wrote The Great Gatsby, and James Patterson who wrote Along Came a Spider.

Why should I practice Copywork? While it's good for all great writers to read a lot. Reading can only get you so far. If I were to ask you, What author inspires you to write better? Who would you say? Why does this author inspire you? Whatever the case is, I know that for every writer out there, there is always at least one author you've wanted to write like. For me, I really love how Frank Herbert, the author of Dune, writes his books. And at one point in my life, I really wanted to write like he does. So, I sat down and scoured the internet, looking for anything that would help me write like Frank Herbert, but I couldn't find anything. If you've ever been in a situation like this, Copywork is your best friend. Instead of reading article after article or scouring Reddit for anything and only coming up with: this is how they structure their sentences. Or, you can't write like so and so, you should have your own style. Use Copywork.

The Big Question: How Can I Copywork?

If you have your own Frank Herbert, an author whose writing style you love, pick one of their books and find a passage or page that speaks to you the most.

If you don't have an author like that, ask yourself: What about my writing do I want to improve? When you find your answer, look for an author who does the thing you want to work on in a way that you like.

Once you have your passage, get a pen and paper. This is going to help you absorb the information so much better than just typing it out.

Step 1. Set time aside every day, at least 20 minutes, to practice.

Step 2. Copy down the scene you picked out.

Step 3. Go back to the start and break each sentence down into its base structure of, Noun, Verb, Adjective.

Step 4. Rewrite the scene, using the sentence structure and formatting, with your own characters, setting details, and dialogue.

Step 5. Repeat the next day with a new scene.

[thegremlininyourcloset]

Cass headcanons be upon ye

and yes she is autistic because I’m autistic and also. It’s Cass.

She LOVES music. She’ll listen to literally any genre.

her favorites are pretty much any variant of rock/metal, and music with lots of violins:string instruments. Yes she listens to Lindsey Stirling. Also loves music she can easily dance to

Does sometimes struggle to process the lyrics of songs tho

loves pretty much any kind of art

Is fascinated by good actors, who’s body language matches their characters emotions and is different from their own

some of her favorite kinds of art other than dancing or music are visual

Cass thinks tattoos, artistic makeup (that’s colorful and creative) and face/body painting are really really cool

Cass has/will get a couple of tattoos

she likes the idea of making her body into a canvas for art (like how she likes dancing) (also Babs 100% got tattoos as a way to reclaim her body after the Killing Joke and the rise of Oracle, and when Cass learned this it really really stuck with her)

big physical stimmer

she talks with her hands, does Dino arms, spins around (usually in textbook-perfect dancer form), bounces, cartwheels…etc

dancing and fighting are both forms of stimming for her

she has had multiple conversations with Dick while the both of them are doing handstands for no apparent reason

she has echolalia

If you make a weird noise at her or in her vicinity she will always make one back

there has been at least one instance of Cass and Damian meowing at each other for like 30 minutes

it may or may not have spread to everyone else

she is a pack rat, she keeps Everything.

Once when Bruce told her not to break in someplace she looked him dead in the eyes and went “be gay do crimes”

She does this Every. Time someone scolds her for something she’s not guilty about

make uncomfortably intense eye contact

Once, Tim was terrified she was really mad at him because she was staring into his soul, only for Cass to go “Gimme your cheeseburger”

likes cheese a normal amount (no she does not)

Swears a lot. Like. A lot. She will call you a cunt

Bruce blames Steph for this

Actually, Bruce blames Steph for a Lot of Cass’s chaotic tendencies. He’s wrong, she’s just Like That

how much she talks depends on how she’s feeling

on a Good Day, she talks a lot, narrating every thought in her head, sometimes tripping over her words and forgoing grammar in her rush to get them out

She usually takes some time to formulate her thoughts into sentences though

but on Bad Days?

TW for self harm ahead

she has a couple different kinds of Bad Day

the first, where she talks very little if she speaks at all, and is incredibly clingy to everyone she loves, barely letting them out of her sight. She doesn’t really join what their doing, rather standing on the fringes like a guard dog

on the second of Bad Day, she doesn’t speak a word, and locks herself in the dance studio, or worse, the exercise rooms, and dances or trains until she drops. And even then…

on these kinds of Bad Days, Cass can barely tolerate other people speaking

on the third kind of Bad Day, she locks herself somewhere soundproof and just screams. Screams until her voice is hoarse and she can barely breathe, and then she keeps screaming. She bangs on walls till her hands are bloody and sobs herself sick and digs her nails into her arms and tugs her hair. All until she passes out

she never talks about that kind of Bad Day

@fictfrenzy @themoonwitch-mustspeak

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗕𝗢𝗗𝗬 𝗛𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚

　　　　　　　　　𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒚𝒍𝒆𝒔 x reader

SUMMARY: Where the hate that Y/N has been receiving on social media gets her on a path that she couldn't come back alone from.

WARNING: Eating disorder, dysmorphia, self-hatred, comparison. PLEASE read with caution!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N was home alone for the second week in a row, and to say that things were easy would be a big lie. Her days were always the same: Spending hours doing different physical exercises and other hours reading the most horrible comments from Harry's fans.

She could never say they were bad people, after all they loved and cared about Harry, but there was something within the fandom against her, and she wondered if it was because she wasn't famous or because she wasn't thin.

Her heart told her that she shouldn't worry about it, there were sweet people who defended her and always presented proof of how much happier Harry seemed to be when with her, but her mind screamed that it was option two.

Hours of sleep were lost with Y/N ​​in front of the mirror, without any clothes and with her hair tied up, her dark eyes with big bags underneath wandering over every part of her body while her brain made records of absolutely all the negative parts.

To say that she wasn't in agony every time she saw an old article about Harry's exes or comments comparing them all to her was an understatement, she could only feel disgusted with herself and her body, while all her past traumas came back with full strength.

With Harry away it made it easier for her to do her fasting and her long hours of physical exercise, in addition to going days without ingesting anything more than one or two leaves of pure lettuce, and lots of water. The feeling of the cold water running through her body and reaching her empty stomach was pleasurable, and all she could think about was how thin she only felt when her stomach was empty.

And without even realizing it, her best friend became her scale, and her greatest partner became her seamstress' measuring tape. Y/N had even printed out some images of the body models she dreamed of having every day, and pasted each one of them in different corners of the house, especially in the kitchen, with strong messages full of triggers that made her think twice before opening the refrigerator or cupboard.

It wasn't surprising that she had an exaggerated reaction when she was told that Harry would have a week without shows, and that in that week he would return home and, consequently, to her. Y/N wasn't prepared to see him again, or rather, she wasn't thin enough to do so. Her weak legs ran around the house, tearing off all the photos and messages stuck to doors and walls, storing them in a far away place, where he wouldn't find.

She tried to take a long shower and brush her teeth repeatedly to get rid of the smell that she got from the lack of food. And then she felt a little ready for what was to come.

It wasn't long before the sound of the key in the main door was heard and the doorknob turned, the tall, dark figure appearing in the doorway with a suitcase in one hand and a big smile on his face, his emerald green eyes searching for her.

Y/N smiled one of her best smiles and ran to meet him, careful not to throw her full weight against him. She couldn't help but feel uncomfortable as his large hands encircled her waist, the worry that he would feel the fat on her back regions running through her mind. But what she didn't notice was the confused look on Harry's face as his fingers felt how much smaller she was, and he wondered if she had started some kind of diet.

"I missed you so much, H." Y/N murmured against his shoulder.

"Not as much as I did, lovie. Every day, I just thought about having you with me, encouraging me and loving me, and then rewarding me." Y/N felt her body tense at the mention of the intimacy they both shared, the thought of him seeing her body, even though he had already seen it so many times that he had memorized every detail, made her fear.

"Why don't we take this suitcase to the bedroom and then see what we do?" She interrupted the moment, walking away with a fake smile and taking the suitcase from the taller man's hands, starting to climb the stairs, leaving a confused and worried Harry behind.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Two days had passed, days full of lies on Y/N's part and worry on Harry's part. Y/N skipped breakfast, using the fact that Harry woke up after her as an excuse, saying that she had already eaten breakfast; At lunch she couldn't just lie or make some excuse, so she simply took a spoonful of the food that the brunette cooked with so much love, and spread it across the plate, trying to give the impression of having a full plate; At dinner she simply said that she wasn't hungry and that she lost the habit of eating dinner after Harry went on tour.

The days went on like this, Harry felt confused about the situation, but it didn't seem like he didn't believe it, so a debate raged between whether to bring up the subject or not.

Until one day. Harry woke up with the morning sun shining through the open curtain, which Y/N ​​opened every day, his body was warm from the duvet and Y/N's scent surrounded it, like Saturn's rings.

The man got up and did his routine, going to the bathroom, taking a quick shower and changing, ready to go down to meet his loved one, who was always waiting for him with a big smile, sitting at the kitchen counter with her cell phone in hand and a cup of coffee, which was just for him.

But today was different, as Harry went down the stairs a muffled sound became clearer, until his brain registered that the sound was of crying, with a frown the man quickened his pace and chased the sound, concern settling in his eyes.

It didn't take long for him to find Y/N in the fetal position on the main sofa in the room, the cell phone in her right hand while her left hand covered her mouth, trying futilely to stifle the sobs that broke from her throat.

Harry ran closer, kneeling on the floor in front of her seat on the sofa and placing his hands on the girl's knees, stroking them lightly.

"Y/N what happened? Who made you cry like this?" His green eyes migrated from her half-covered face and her cell phone.

"H-Harry-" Her voice broke as the taller man's name came out as a whimper.

"I'm here, baby!" He got closer, wrapping his hands around the smaller girl's shoulders, placing his forehead on the top of Y/N's head, breathing in her scent.

"Harry, I don't think I can do this anymore..." Y/N whispered.

"Do what, my love?"

"Us, Harry." The man moved quickly, astonished by his girl's response.

"Did I do something? It was one of those fake news that I'm cheating on you, wasn't it? Baby, I never-"

"No Harry, no. I know you would never do that! And you didn't do anything, I just..." She sighed and looked into his eyes, feeling guilty when she saw the pain in his emerald orbs. "Look at me, Harry, look at this." She pointed to his body, letting a loud sob out.

"What should I be seeing? Besides a beautiful woman."

Y/N laughed in disbelief, shaking her head and feeling a hint of anger start to rise, it was clear he would say something like that just to please her.

"Harry, I'm looking horrible. I don't have visible ribs or a protruding collarbone, I don't have a thigh gap or hip bones, I don't have thin wrists and I don't have well-marked cheekbones, I don't have pointy shoulders and I don't have a defined jaw... I don't have delicate hands or thin fingers, my waist isn't extremely thin and my breasts are too big. Harry, I'm not perfect and I can't give you what you need."

At this point Y/N was crying a desperate cry, with strong sobs that made her body shake and thick tears that ran down her face. Harry had tears welling up in his eyes as his hands balled into fists in anger at whoever had put these thoughts in his beloved's head.

"Y/N, who made you think like that? How can you deduce what I want?"

"Harry..." She closed her eyes tightly, her mind betraying her by bringing up images of Camille, the girl seemed to be kind, but Y/N couldn't help but feel jealous of her perfect body. "I'm not like them, I'm not like her!"

"Who? Baby, please-"

"I'm not like Camille or like Kendall or like Taylor, and I can't give you the pretty, thin image you need, the media hates me and I've lost count of how many times they've told you that you're blind from being with me, and I can't disagree with that."

Harry shook his head in denial, feeling angry at the media and everything they post and say with the intention of always offending someone.

Y/N continued to sob, and the force her body exerted with the act left her weak, the lack of food began to appear again and her eyes saw stars while her head swam. Harry grabbed her arms quickly, steadying her.

"Baby if you keep crying like that you're going to hurt yourself. Take a deep breath for me, hm? I'll get you a glass of water."

The brunette ran to the kitchen, starting to look for the decorated glass that he knew was the girl's favorite. While opening drawers and cabinets, his green eyes found a piece of paper glued to the front of the bottom shelf, where some industrialized sweets were kept. Harry took the paper and pulled it out, seeing a photo of a body exactly as described by Y/N and a note next to it, his eyes widened at the horrible mentions written there and he tried to get up quickly and return to the room, holding the paper firmly in your hands.

"Y/N what is this?" The brown-haired girl looked up quickly, her greatest fear happening right before her eyes. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. "Tell me something, when was the last time you ate anything?" She shook her head, ready to say it was the day before, but Harry interrupted her. "I mean a whole meal with a healthy amount."

Y/N remained silent, her eyes now fixed on the floor covered by the shag carpet, the older man took a deep breath, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. He walked over to the smallest one and put the photo in his pants pocket, promising himself to look for others like it deep in the house.

"Y/N this is a serious situation, you can't keep something like this to yourself!" He couldn't help but feel frustration, he felt guilty for feeling like that because he knew that it wasn't Y/N's fault, but with the way that all of that came down, it just made his head confused and upset.

"Harry I'm fine, that was just-"

"Baby I bet you haven't eaten in days, do you think this is healthy, that this will get you somewhere other than a hospital bed? Letting this situation compromise you like this because of other people... That's not good for you. You don't need to have the same body as them, you don't need to have bones showing or a flat stomach to be magnificent. Those pants you're wearing were tight until a few weeks ago, and look at them now, they're baggy..."

Y/N kept her gaze down, her eyes were filling with uncontrollable tears that threatened to flow at any second again, her cheeks were heating up and the force she was exerting to contain the tears was starting to generate an unbearable headache. She knew Harry was right.

"I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me everything is okay. Just look into my eyes."

The girl slowly raised her head, her eyes focusing on Harry's beautiful green ones, which now held so much anguish and worry, a tear escaping from the corner of his right eye made her lower lip tremble. She opened her mouth to state that she was fine and that everything was going to get better, but her voice seemed to trail off for a second.

Her body hurt, her legs were wobbly and her arms were shaking slightly, she felt her head feel heavy. It was a horrible feeling, beyond normal.

"I-I... Harry, I think I need help."

She whispered, her tears flowing freely now with the weight of her words. Harry nodded vigorously, relieved that she understood that this situation was not normal, and promising himself that he would be by her side through the entire process, no matter how long it took.

And that night, after his girlfriend fell asleep, Harry cried.

[rigelmejo]

In honor of seeing 5 more posts on reddit about 'best way to learn X language again':

Here's the guide on how to learn a language from r/language learning: https://www.reddit.com/r/languagelearning/wiki/guide

The answer to 'the best way to learn' is to find whatever study materials and study activities you can get yourself to do regularly for hundreds to thousands of hours, that will regularly teach you some new stuff and allow you to practice understanding some stuff you've learned. Ideally, study materials and study activities that focus on teaching how to do the things you wish to do in the language. (So if your goal is to speak about X topic, you eventually DO need to study listening, speaking, practice speaking with others, and learning vocabulary that comes up when speaking about X topic). You will notice that 'the best way to learn' is going to be different for different people! One person's answer may not be the 'best' way for you, only you can determine the 'best' way for you.

If you've never studied a language before, my personal opinion would be recommending you stop focusing on 'the best way to learn' and focus on structured language learning materials. If you've never studied a language before, never made your own study materials or collected them and planned your own study activities and scheduled your study time? Then I think it may be easier for you to just pick a study material that TELLS you what vocabulary and grammar to study, TELLS you what exercises to do to practice reading, writing, speaking, listening, and then just committing yourself to working through that study material 1-2 hours a day on average. You will want to pick a well made study material - such as a textbook many people recommend for that language for beginners, then for intermediate learners, or a class at a university/college, or a free online course that's equivalent to a college course (like on Coursera), or a well known language learning material that many people said worked well for them (Assimil, Teach Yourself, etc). If you're bad at figuring out what to study yourself, I recommend you pick a study material that teaches ALL 4 listening, speaking, reading, listening. So the study material should have audio and text, and you should do practice writing exercises based on grammar and vocabulary in each section, and practice speaking like the audio that is provided. The study material should also have 2000 words or more (if for beginners) and cover a variety of basic grammar, so that you're prepared to move to an intermediate study material when you're done. So while I love study materials like Language Transfer podcast, if you're a beginner who's never studied a language before, Language Transfer mainly focuses on grammar and listening skills... so if you aren't good at finding other resources for reading, and aren't good at making up your own writing/speaking exercises, then Language Transfer will not be ideal for you. If you pick multiple study materials (which will be a bit more difficult if you're bad at planning your own study plan), make sure the combination of those study materials covers overall beginner material (2000+ words and basic grammar) and writing, speaking, listening, reading skills.

Another option, if you've never studied a language before: find what someone else did and copy what they did. Is it the 'best' method? Depends on if you can get yourself to study regularly for hundreds to thousands of hours. What you can get yourself to do regularly, will be the best method for you. People share their methods online all the time, some name them (Refold, Mass Immersion Approach, Comprehensible Input, Automatic Language Growth, Assimil, Listening Reading Method), some people just share their study plans online. Choose to copy the study methods of people who've reached goals similar to what you want to do - so for example if your goal is to read in Chinese, copying the guide on Heavenly Path's Site for reading is likely to help you reach that goal. If you like learning by just listening/watching, Comprehensible Input methods like Dreaming Spanish may suit you well. My initial goal was to read in Chinese, so I looked up people who'd already done what I wanted to do, and read their study plans, and then studied the same materials they studied. It worked. Then I looked up how people improved listening skills, and again copied the study methods they did. If you know what your goals are - what you want to do in the language, you can just look up what other people did and find something that both would help you reach your goal AND that you can get yourself to do regularly.

In the end, my personal opinion is, it doesn't matter what the 'best' way to learn is... aside from whatever motivates you to study regularly. I've read a LOT personal experiences people have shared of their progress. For the most part, most people who put 2000 hours into studying a language end up with a similar level of skill. So just study the same amount of hours everyone else who accomplished your goal has studied, and your language abilities will end up similar to theirs.* (The only exception to this is: if you avoid studying the actual skill you wish to be able to do in the language, you will still EVENTUALLY need to put study hours into THAT SPECIFIC SKILL. I saw someone who studied 3000 hours with audiobooks and asked why they couldn't understand show dialogue... they knew the words, of course! They just had spent 0 hours practicing listening to the way people speak in shows, how they talk fast and less clearly compared to audiobooks. To get good at doing something specific... you need to spend some time DOING that specific thing. Or if you spend say 1000 hours like me reading chinese, then wonder why you can't understand an audiobook even though you know all the words? You still need to spend study hours LISTENING to audiobooks to get good at understanding them. So assuming you are spending your study time ON the actual activities you wish to do, then yes you'll reach similar language levels to others who studied toward that goal for X hundred or thousand hours. Also, depending on the languages you already know, and the language you're studying, will effect how many hundred or thousand hours you need to study - compare your progress to other people who know the same language and are studying the same language. A motivating little story: many people who study with Dreaming Spanish's comprehensible input lessons made for learners reach a ~B2 level after 2000 hours, starting to read after 600-800 hours and starting to speak after 1000 hours. There was a guy who studied French by watching TV shows without looking up the translations of any words, not necessarily comprehensible, and then after 1200 hours he started reading French, and after 1500 he started speaking, and after 2000 hours he passed a French B2 test. The Dreaming Spanish learners used videos made for learners, where they're made to be extremely easy for learners to guess what each word means. The guy who watched French shows could guess the meaning of some words in kids cartoons - but could not understand nearly as much as those DS learners using material made for learners - and then after several hundred hours moved to shows for adults. Both DS learners and the guy who used regular stuff for French native speakers, achieved similar abilities after 2000 hours. I would argue that a LOT of people would say the guy who studied French did it in a 'worse' way... since he did not look up translations which could have helped him understand more faster, and did not use videos intentionally made to be super understandable to learners like DS learners do. And yet, he achieved similar results. A lot of people who study with Refold method - tons of anki flashcards, looking up words while watching shows/reading - also have similar results. So I would say this is all a good example of: just pick whatever study method you can get yourself to do for thousands of hours. Eventually your results will be similar to people who've done other study methods anyway. So the 'best' method is simply whatever you can get yourself to DO REGULARLY.

[finelythreadedsky]

You can read ancient Greek, right? If so, I have a question, I hope you don't mind. I took Latin for a long time and all my teachers always said that the goal wasn't to be fluent in it, we would never be able to speak it like we could speak Spanish or some other modern language. We were forever translating Cicero's speeches and Ovid's poems. I had good grades, but I would never ever have been able to write anything new in Latin, let alone carry on a conversation. It was never my major though. Is it different when it's the focus of your degree? Or different with ancient Greek? Or maybe just different at other schools/higher levels?

yeah that's essentially the norm* for teaching Latin and ancient Greek at all levels-- the goal of learning them is to be able to read certain texts in the original language, not to be able to speak or write in it. that's a really big difference from modern spoken languages, which are usually taught with the idea that you are learning them to be able to communicate with current users of that language, and that you therefore want to be able to understand what they say and write and to be able to express yourself through speech and writing. I think it can be pretty safely said that there are no current language-users with whom you are learning to communicate when you learn Latin or ancient Greek: the communication is one-way and only through writing. introductory classes will often have you do short composition exercises or translate from your native language into the target ancient language, but as a tool to master syntax/grammar/vocab/etc, not because it is actually the thing you are ultimately trying to learn to do.

*there are a couple of programs that do 'living Latin' or 'living ancient Greek' and try to teach them like you would teach a modern spoken language, including conversation, but I. um. do not have positive opinions about that as a practice.

[polly-pocket13]

Give me a chance to show you how beautiful you are

bakugou katsuki x fem!chubby!reader 

tw: weight, self-doubt, self-hate, eating disorder, cursing, acne, bad english and bad grammar

a/n: just a friendly reminder that you are enough and beautiful just the way you are.

You are standing in front of your mirror and looking at yourself. 

You sighed. 

Your skin is getting worse again.

You gained weight.

Your tights are too thick.

Your belly is too chubby.

Your arms to giggly.

Slowly, your eyes started to tear up.

Why couldn't you be like the other pretty girls?

Those girls with the flat stomachs and clear skin. 

Those girls with beautiful tights and slim arms. 

Those girls who always look and act like a real lady.

Those girls who always seem perfect.

The next day, you started eating less and exercising more.

You began to isolate yourself from others and feel more and more ashamed about yourself.

Like right now, you were in your room again and stood before your mirror and looked at your imperfect body.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” you suddenly heard Bakugous voice behind you.

You didn't even notice that he knocked or entered your room.

“Bakugou, what are you doing here? Of course, everything is alright.” you told him and forced yourself to smile.

“Y/N, stop fucking lying to me. I can see that something is wrong, and I can see how, you force yourself to smile. I have known you long enough, to recognize a real smile.” he grumbled.

“I don't know what you mean.” you said to him.

“Don't play dumb, Y/N. Please tell me what is wrong.” he spoke to you.

“I am fine.” you lied again. 

You weren't fine at all. 

“Fine? You look to me like the absolute opposite of fine.” he said to you angrily.

You were overwhelmed with emotions.

You slowly started to speak, “Can't you see? I am the problem. How I look. How I act. Everything about me is just imperfect.”

You started to cry again.

“Who the hell told you such a bullshit. Tell me so I can break his nose.” he told you aggressive.

You replied quietly, “Kacchan, just forget it.”

“You don't want me to know? Well, then I will find out myself. It can't be that fucking hard to find an asshole without eyes.” he slightly shouted and wanted to leave your room.

“It was me, okay! I tell my self everyday I am not enough! So if you want to break someone's nose, feel free to break mine.” you said to him. 

He immediately turned himself to you. A second later, you could feel his arms wrapped around you.

Now, you started to cry even more.

He pulled you closer to him.

He whispered in your ear, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my life.” 

“You only say it because we are friends and I am crying. You don't mean it.” you mumbled.

“Tsk, stupid gorgeous Woman. Why don't you believe me? I would not fall in love with you if you were not the most perfect human being in the world,”

he started tell you.

“I wished you could see yourself through my eyes. Then you would see that you are perfect from the bottom to the top. 

You would see how your eyes sparkle, when you talk about something you love. How you smile makes everyone else smile too.  How you just make everyone else to a better person, especially me. You would see how all stare at you if you dress up in your pretty dresses.  Damn it, Y/N yo drive me crazy every day. Your curves, your beautiful thighs, your soft belly. Just fucking everything.” he ends his “speech”.

You were shocked. You just stared at him for a moment.

“You like me? Like, really like me.” you asked him. 

“Typical Y/N. I told you lots of other important things and you just remembered one. Yes, I like you. Like, really like you.” he answered you. 

“I think I like you too, but I can't see myself through your eyes. I am just imperfect for me.” you told him.

“Give me a chance to show you how beautiful you are. Okay?” he asked you. 

“Okay.” you answered. 

Since that day, he has been proving to you every day how beautiful you are to him. 

And you slowly start to believe him and love yourself as you should because you are truly beautiful just the way you are.