#Thanks Somerset
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allsassnoclass · 1 year ago
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your opinions on the current/upcoming fob tour(s)? -💙
hi megs @igarbagecannoteven!
so I got to see FOB on their first round of so much for (tour) dust, but I saw them at their somerset show, which was rained out (hazards of outdoor venues). after bmth (fantastic live band btw, the energy in the crowd for them was great and they were really great to see even as someone who only knows a few songs) there was lightning so we were told to shelter in place in our cars for a whole hour before they let us back in, and then we got an abbreviated set because the venue had a strict curfew, so I didn't get the full experience (rip to patrick's piano time, which they skipped for our show :( )
that being said, what i did experience was amazing! i LOVE that they included headfirst slide, because that song SLAPS live, and i like the magic 8 ball song idea (especially after learning that originally they weren't going to do a different song each night??? and then they liked it so much and it had such a good reaction that they relearned their old songs for it the day of). the one thing is that i wish we did get slight mania representation (at least for a magic 8 ball song here or there, something besides last of the real ones). i also am so so so extremely jealous of the people who got to hear all of my favorites off of ioh live. the set design and vibe was interesting, and i'd have liked to see the whole thing to see the different visuals for every song/section
as for the upcoming tour, i'm honestly a little confused about it. i feel like they don't usually tour the same album twice, especially since they're repeating the usa but they haven't done south america/an official asia tour. that being said, i'm selfishly so thankful for it because i have an opportunity to see them again lol and this time it's at an indoor venue so we won't get rained out! i'm excited to see what they change and what they keep the same (please let there be patrick piano time PLEASE also THE FACT THAT HE PLAYED SPOTLIGHT ONE NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I COULD CRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and i'm glad that they're having a good enough time out on the road to add another tour on so close to the last one. it seems like they really enjoyed this one, which i'm glad for
ask me my opinion on things!
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dreamings-free · 2 years ago
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Alycia never liked one Louis' post on ig but she usually likes everything Harry' post.
LOL
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yelenasbraid · 3 months ago
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the view between villages pt.1 — joe burrow
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mini series summary — it’s been years since you’ve seen your high school & college best friend, joe burrow. you went to high school together, went to ohio state together, but separated when joe transferred. distance wasn’t kind to you, and the total difference in careers stretched you further apart. when you reunite with him unexpectedly, you’re not sure you have an explanation. you’re not sure if he’ll take your explanation. little do you know he’s been ready and he’s been willing.
chapter summary — your sister asks for a pickup from a bar. little did you know you’d step back in time.
warnings — fem!reader, best friends to strangers to lovers, angst
songs that inspired this part — please don’t go home yet by stephen sanchez + the view between villages by noah kahan
note — i’ve had this done for a while and idk how much longer i could have gatekept this from you guys lol. i also have a request i’m working on AND I WILL GET TO IT!! it’s halfway done lol
part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5
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YOU SET YOURSELF UP FOR FAILURE, you’ve realized. your living room is set at the perfect temperature, allowing for a blanket to be the only thing keeping you warm. a show played softly in the background and a warm-scented candle was lit on the coffee table. your laptop was perched on your lap, an attempt being made to study for an upcoming exam for your masters degree.
your eyes threatened to close, attempting to pull you into a light sleep.
your phone was the next thing you heard, the incessant buzzing against your thigh shaking you awake. you rubbed your eyes, grabbing your phone to see who was calling you. you groaned, answering the call.
“what?” a hand ran down your face as you annoyance slid off your single word.
“i need a pick up,” the slurred voice of your younger sister, kelsey, was on the other end. she decided to go out with some friends to a bar in downtown cincinnati. they picked her up without plans on who was to take her home.
so that left you.
“which bar are you at?” you grumbled, shutting your laptop and placing it on the coffee table. you blew out the candle while you were at it.
“uh,” there was a pause, and you cursed under your breath as you stood up to grab some shoes.
“kelsey, do you know where you are?” you didn’t mean to snap, but it was 12:30 in the morning; you weren’t in the mood for your sister’s incompetence.
“yes yes i do, geez,” kelsey groaned, “somerset,” she replied. you’ve only been there a handful of times, only because someone invited you. you didn’t go to bars with your own free will. you had too much work to do.
“i’ll be there in 10 minutes,” you told her, grabbing your keys and your wallet. you definitely weren’t dressed to be stepping foot in a bar, sweats and an ohio state crew neck keeping you warm.
“thank youuuuu,” kelsey sang, a hiccup interrupting her. you rolled your eyes as you locked the door to your shared apartment with kelsey.
“just don’t do anything stupid, alright? and no more drinks, drink some water,” you instructed as you got into your car.
“you’re no fun,”
“that’s what older sisters are for, kels,” you reminded her. ever since you were small you looked out for kelsey. your parents weren’t very present; both of them worked long hours. as the oldest, you looked out for kelsey. you often babysat her, fed her, and made sure she stayed out of trouble. you were still that person for her, and you often wondered if it would ever stop.
you parked outside of the bar, somehow managing snag a parallel parking spot. as much as you hated parallel parking, you weren’t going to drive around for 20 minutes trying to find a parking spot.
not when it was this late.
you stepped out, locking your car and quickly crossed the street. it wasn’t as crowded as you thought, the lights casting a warm glow on the street. it was peaceful, for the most part. the lights of the skyscrapers casting a beautiful glow onto the streets below them. the moon was out too, making the stars around it sparkle. the air was cool, ushering you into a comforting embrace. you opened the door to the bar, breaking the hold the cool wind and peaceful night had on you.
there were too many people here. every table was occupied, the bar was full, and there were even people standing, well, swaying. your eyes scanned the crowd, picking apart faces and bodies as you tried to find your sister. your fingers absently fiddled with your keys, your anxiety building. was she here? did she lie to you? were you in the right bar? your eyes moved to the sign behind you, and you were in the right place. so, where was kelsey?
you flipped over your phone in your hand, your eyes still searching the crowds. your eyes did find someone, a blonde who’s face was rosy from the warmth of the room. his smile was radiant, laughing along with the guys next to him. he was familiar, his presence filling the room and the hole in your chest. your breath hitched, watching as joe burrow sat a few tables from you. he didn’t notice you, but you noticed him.
he’d changed. his hair was shorter, his arms were fuller, he even looked taller in his seat. he’d grown up, gotten older, and moved on from the things of college. as he should. your heart clenched in your chest, remembering the simpler days when you and joe were close. the days where you couldn’t imagine being apart from each other.
flashback
the door to your car opened as you opened a granola bar. you look over, mid bite, as a shaggy-haired joe burrow gets into your car. morning tea sessions before school were a usual for you, and if you were honest, you liked it. you never admitted it to him and had a hard time admitting it to yourself, but you were starting to like joe. he paid attention to your interests, he geeked out with you over the simplest of things, and he made you laugh. all the time.
joe, on the other hand, felt safe in your car. he wouldn’t admit that to anyone, but he liked sitting in your car with you, talking about everything and anything. he liked how he could joke with you, how he could geek out about something and you’d join right in. he felt safe with you, and being with you was the best part of his day besides football practice.
“well good morning,” you spoke as you swallowed your piece of granola.
“have you seen the new marvel lego set?” he asked you, a boyish sparkle in his eyes.
“i haven’t,”
“dude, look,” he turned his phone to show you, almost as if he’d been waiting to show you. it was a set with your favorite character in it, bucky barnes. you gasped, pointing at his figure.
“it’s got bucky?” you grinned, and he nodded his head eagerly.
“i know! i think i’m gonna buy it, but i just want the captain america mini figure. so i’ll give you bucky,” he shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal.
“wait, really?”
“yeah, he’s your favorite, right?”
end of flashback
your head was in a daze, fogged over with memories. you had to snap out of it, but god you couldn’t. you inhaled deeply, feeling tears sting your eyes. you still had that lego figure, planted in a small display case on your desk. you yearned for the simpler times, but those were past. you didn’t live there anymore.
“hello?” a hand being waved in front of your face interrupted your trance, shocking your bones with embarrassment. you rapidly blinked your eyes, clearing your eyes from tears. your cheeks turned a rosy red color as you focused on your sister.
“where were you?” you scolded, crossing your arms, trying to regain the little composure you had left.
“in the bathroom, wasn’t gonna pee in your car,” she giggled. you rolled your eyes, and instinctively you flicked your eyes over to joe again, except you met his eyes this time. it made your heart skip a beat, shocking you down to your very core. you felt your chest tighten, a prickly feeling spreading across your skin. why did he still do that to you? you quickly flicked your eyes away, focusing again on your sister.
“i’m glad,” you gave a fake smile as you ushered her in front of you and out of the bar. you wanted so badly to cast one, last lonely look at joe, but you didn’t. you sneered to yourself, scolding yourself for allowing a memory to resurface, one that was painfully sweet. it killed you, and even though you lived in the same city, it didn’t mean you wanted to see him yet. you couldn’t.
you didn’t see joe watch you leave. you didn’t see joe inhale, his chest constricting with a newfound urgency. you didn’t see him stand, wanting to go after you. he almost left, wanting to catch you, but you left too quickly. he swallowed, blinking away the memories as he sat down again. his evening wouldn’t be the same, not after he saw you, not after he heard your voice above everyone else’s.
flashback
he’d lost. bad. it was his fault too. if his hands weren’t shaking so bad, he’d have caught the snap. but no, he didn’t. his hands slipped, which derailed him for the rest of the night.
‘butterfingers burrow’ was chanted on the visitors side of the stadium, and he couldn’t have felt worse in that moment. he walked off the field, the heavy feeling in his chest not getting any better. he lifted his head, trying to put on a brave face, when he saw you. you were waiting for him, wrapped up in a puffer and a hat. he allowed himself to smile, just a little.
“hey,” you gently smiled, watching him walk towards you.
“hi,” his voice was hoarse, as it sometimes was after a game. it was even worse considering it was cold and he felt tears stinging his eyes. he stopped short of you, his breath hitching. you weren’t much of a hugger, and he always respected that. always.
“come here,” you opened your arms, and joe just fell into them. you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the eyes on you. you knew this would be talked about tomorrow in the hallways, in classes. joe knew it too, but all he could think about was you. the feeling of your arms around him and your sweet perfume that consoled him.
he parted from you, exhaling a shaky breath.
“you ok?” you asked, and he knew you knew he was far from it. joe swallowed, picking at his cuticles. your hands gently topped his, getting him to stop.
“it’s just high school, i’ll be ok,” he assured you. he watched you, getting lost in the feeling of your warm hands on his. he ducked his head, feeling his cheeks warm with a blush. he wished you both were something more.
“i know you will, but your feelings are important too, joey,” you reminded him. he nodded his head, and offered you to walk with him.
“for the record,” you continued, “you did well. i’m proud of you, and i don’t care what people say at school tomorrow. they’re a bunch of hormonal teenagers,” you joked, and it got a laugh out of him.
“we’re apart of that too, ya know,”
“yeah well, whatever makes you laugh, joey,”
end of flashback
you always had this tendency to make him feel better. you could make the most out of a bad situation, a bad game, anything. you did a lot for him, and he didn’t realize what the emptiness in his chest was until now. until he saw you.
he took out his phone, an idea popping into his head. it’s been a while, he knew that, but he’d try it. he typed in your name into his text messages, and found you. he didn’t delete your conversations, even if it’s been years since you’ve seen or talked to each other. he couldn’t bring himself to remove the last tangible thing he had of you. he opened the messages and typed a message.
you felt your phone buzz as you situated your sister in the passenger seat of the car. you looked at it, seeing a text from none other than joe burrow himself.
‘does this number still work?’
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oh this is gonna be an angsty one. it’s part one baby!! i’m hoping i can commit to this series since i’m actually excited about it. if there’s anything you want to see, please let me know! i’ve got a rough outline but of course will hear you out lol.
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inuyashaluver · 10 months ago
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Hi lovely I love ur stuff 🩷 I have a little request/idea - obviously feel free to ignore it
I was thinking R has a really thick accent (English - either Scouse (Liverpool), Geordie (Newcastle) or West Country (Devon/Somerset/Farmer) or Aussie or something really thick like hard to understand from native speakers let alone anyone else) but R plays in Barca and has a crush on a Spanish player (Maybe Patri? maybe Ona? Maybe Alexia?) and is tryna talk to them more and maybe ask them out but they just get looked at funny and they walk off and she goes to Kiera and Lucy and is like what have I done? Do they all hate me? And [Crush] overheads them and goes round to their house after training and is like I really wanna get to know u, I think you’re really pretty etc but I cannot understand a word that comes out of ur mouth to the point where I am questioning whether it’s English
qué? - alexia putellas
alexia putellas x reader
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description: in which your accent proves to be difficult to understand
warnings: LONG!! swearing, misunderstandings, spanish in bold italics
a/n: i love this woman, your honour!! i was writing alexia angst but had to put out the fluff haha!! thank you so much for the love and request, lovely!! ily and enjoy ❤️
⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆
you never thought your accent would get you into trouble but you were entirely wrong. and we’re not talking about trouble like criminal, we’re talking romantically.
you’re from liverpool, your thick, scouse accent distinct in your dialect. at home in england, the accent was understood most of the time, with an occasional person asking for clarification about your words but you didn’t mind.
even some of your england teammates had to ask you to repeat yourself occasionally when you got overly excited or stressed, your accent proving to be the hardest to understand at those moments.
you often needed a translator for even native english speakers if you spoke too quickly, lucy and later grace helping out when people were truly confused.
when lucy and keira moved from manchester city, you moved with them, having played in the club for 2 years and desperately wanting a change. and so, when the contract arrived from barcelona for the three of you, you accepted it without a second thought.
you had supported barcelona in liga F, having a huge appreciation for the way the spanish players moved, the quick passes and the goals that came out of nowhere. you were excited to pick up those skills to adapt to your own play.
and through your extensive research, you grew a special appreciation for alexia. in your eyes, alexia was the definition of perfect, not only her football skills, but her as a whole.
you would watch her interviews and videos for ‘research purposes’, claiming it was to practise your spanish. and it was, until you zoned out hearing the gentle hum of alexia’s voice, getting distracted entirely but you weren’t complaining.
when you got caught making heart eyes at your phone during england camp, the teasing was so relentless it wasn’t even funny.
“our little (y/n) has a crush on la reina! (the queen)” lucy exclaims in the change room, you immediately turn off your phone and look up at her with an icy glare, only making her smile at you affectionately with a pinch to your cheek that you were quick to swat away.
“you’re not much older than me” you glare, “5 years is 5 years” she shrugs, moving away when you launched an empty bottle at her.
“go on, tell us about your crush” leah smiles, millie and rachel pretend to kiss each other while looking at you and you heat up in the cheeks.
“i’m only watching so i can pick up spanish” you defend, lucy laughs loudly, out of the three transfers, she was definitely the one who picked up the most spanish.
“excuse me, lucia, and everyone in here,” you scoff, “is it such a crime to watch a video of my future captain?” your accent was so heavy at this point, everyone cracked a little smile at you.
“so you were watching videos of alexia then?” leah smirks, you let out a frustrated groan, “leah, shut up man” everyone laughs, the teasing continuing until keira and alessia told everyone to stop.
during the whole of camp, it wasn’t uncommon you got caught looking at photos or videos of alexia, the teasing was so bad you thought you would explode.
when the time finally came for you to join barcelona, you were incredibly nervous. the fear of underperforming playing on your mind, only becoming worse at the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of a certain blonde you couldn’t take your mind off.
lucy and keira assured you everything would be fine, but you weren’t convinced, unsure of how you’d react when you finally saw alexia.
when you all walked to the change rooms, it was shocking how welcoming everyone was. hugs and kisses to the cheeks had you feeling so accepted amongst your new team.
and funnily enough, the last person to greet you was alexia, sending you a charming smile that had your stomach erupting with butterflies.
“(y/n), yes? bienvenida! (welcome)” alexia grins, her arms pulling you into a warm hug, her scent enveloping you and making you borderline dizzy.
“(y/n) is a big fan of you” lucy teases as alexia lets you slip from the hug after you mumble a quick hello. alexia gives a surprised smile, looking between a cheeky looking lucy and a sheepish looking you.
“you’re very good, too, I look forward to playing with you,” alexia’s hand moved to give your bicep a gentle squeeze and you swore your heart stopped, your cheeks were tinged with pink and you could barely formulate a sentence.
“yeah, i’m excited to play with ya” you breathe out, you move to your new cubby and get changed into the barcelona kit, feeling at home already even though it was your first day.
due to you busying yourself with avoiding alexia, you missed the way her gaze lingered on you as you changed, she was intrigued by you.
what you didn’t know was alexia had done her own forms of research. she had heard your name countless times in the media, a rising star in the making.
she respected the way you played, a midfielder who wasn’t afraid to take risks but also managed to avoid fouls frequently.
she wanted to get to know you as much as you wanted to get to know her.
weeks and months fly by and it was easy to say you felt comfortable amongst the team. your spanish was surprisingly getting better, being able to go through training without a translator most of the time.
the girls reciprocated you well, you’d go to team bonding nights and laugh and joke around with them. it was obvious to everyone except alexia that you were harbouring a crush on the captain.
the ways your eyes would follow her every move with pink cheeks honestly exposed yourself. and what made it harder was that alexia and you were growing closer each day.
one day you were chatting with mapi and ingrid, more like you getting teased while you begged them to stop before you were interrupted by a certain someone.
“do you want to be my partner?” alexia questions from behind you suddenly, making you choke on your own spit as she looked at you with a kind smile. “really?” you breathe out, she nods, nodding her head to the pitch for you to follow her.
you’d both been able to converse easily as the months went by, she’d have to ask you to slow down a couple of times when you both talked about something you had in common but it worked.
as you both trained together, you chatted and laughed, talking about random topics.
when you both got to shooting practice, alexia analysed your every move. she would give little nods of approval when you touched the ball, sending you an encouraging smile if you made eye contact, your heart was fluttering around her.
“you should put more weight into your hips when you kick” alexia corrects, you look at her questioningly, she huffs out a little laugh and comes to stand behind you.
her large hands place themselves on your hips and she turns them slightly to the front. her front was pressed against your back and you certainly weren’t breathing. she noticed you tense but chose to ignore it.
“focus here before you kick so it’s stronger” alexia says next to your ear, squeezing your hips gently before letting go of you. “try again, vamos! (let’s go)” she exclaims, you do as she says with her corrections and it was a much better result.
she smiles proudly, “buena niña! (good girl)” she laughs, coming up to you to squeeze your shoulders encouragingly, your cheeks were burning.
the entire team watched the interaction with big grins, ready to tease you for how sheepish you looked.
“gracias (thank you), ale” you scratch the back of your neck with an embarrassed smile, she shakes her head, “it’s nothing, thank me with a goal next game” she jokes, pinching your cheek teasingly before walking off to get some water.
you’re left there in shock, lucy and keira approaching with cheesy grins. “you’re in love” lucy coos, poking your shoulder teasingly while you shielded yourself in a hug from keira.
“i’m so fucking stupid, why can’t i be normal” you groan, keira laughs, her hand rubbing up and down your back. “you’re just shy, which is weird to see because you’re the complete opposite” she laughs, you pull back to throw her a glare.
“it’s cute” lucy chuckles, “i can’t wait to tell everyone about the development” she grins, her and keira share a hearty laugh seeing your face go pale, while you attempted not to scream.
“don’t you fucking dare” you grit out, “i won’t” lucy winks, unfortunately she did and by the time training was over, your phone was blowing up with text messages talking about the interaction.
you looked at lucy with a stone cold glare while she blew you a kiss, alexia watched how angry you were, she could practically feel it radiating off you on the other side of the change room.
“estás bien? (are you okay)” alexia walks up to you, holding a cold drink out to you. you take it after a moment of hesitation, “uh, yeah, sí” you smile, “lucia is annoying you?” alexia grins, looking over at lucy to see her and keira whispering while looking at you. “yes, she’s very annoying” you grumble, your eyebrows furrowing.
alexia smiles fondly at you, her hand moving to your face, her thumb smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. “wrinkles” she tutts, your breath caught in the back of your throat as you looked up at her.
“are you coming tonight?” she says like she didn’t just make you flatline. she’s talking about a team bonding session at her house. “yeah, i think so” you smile at her, “think or know?” she teases, was she flirting with you?
“know, i’ll be there” you mock, she nods with a pleased expression, “hasta luego, lindura (see you later, cutie)” she winks, moving to grab her bag from her cubby and leave, making sure to look back at you another time with a soft smile before walking out.
you get pulled out of your trance once you hear your phone blowing up again, checking it to see lucy had recorded you watching alexia leave. you throw your head back in frustration but chose to avoid letting the older girl feel your wrath, you were still on a buzz from the thought of alexia flirting with you.
when you arrived at alexia’s house, you brought her a bottle of wine with a sheepish grin. when she opened the door for you, she pulled you into the warmest hug, both of you fitting together like a puzzle.
“finalmente! (finally) i was waiting for you!” she grins as she pulls away, taking the wine out of your hands and grabbing one of yours to drag you into the living room where everyone was.
her hand was so warm against yours, soft against your skin and you really didn’t want her to let go. “you look beautiful” alexia smiles before she ushers you to sit down, you barely had the time to tell her how breathtaking she looked, dressed casually but still looking like she could be on the front of a magazine.
you sit next to mapi and she immediately bombards you with questions, “have you kissed yet?” she questions, you slap her knee, “ingrid, your girlfriend is a bully” you huff, ingrid laughs, nodding along with you with an apologetic smile.
everyone was watching a movie while eating, alexia sitting beside you, the two of you would chat back and forth with small giggles and smiles shared between you.
by the time the night was ending, alexia’s arm was resting behind you on the couch, basically over your shoulder while you were in your own little bubble.
when you left that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about all the interactions you had with the catalan, you needed to do something about it. fast.
on a match day for barcelona, you decided it was time for you to tell her about your feelings. it was clear you were flirting with each other. confirmed during the game.
in the second half, you managed to get a goal, using the technique alexia had taught you a couple of days prior.
she was the first one to you after, the loud roar of the crowd drowned out when you felt alexia’s strong arms wrapping around your waist.
you both smiled so brightly as she congratulated you, placing you on the ground, giving you an affectionate kiss on the forehead and squeezing your shoulders. this told you everything. it wasn’t just her being friendly, it was alexia making a move.
at the end of the match, the two of you lingered in the middle of the pitch, you were fidgeting so much alexia was worried.
“(y/n)?” she dips her head to make eye contact with you, “estás bien? (are you okay)” you nod, opening your mouth to speak but nothing came out. “take a deep breath” she smiles, a hand on your shoulder offering you comfort but also stressing you out.
“ale” you start, she nods with an encouraging smile, “i really fancy ya, ale, i’ve been wantin’ to tell ya for a while” you blurt out, alexia’s eyebrows furrow, she looks a little confused.
the silence was loud, why hasn’t she said anything back. if this was her rejection, it hurt more than anything she could have verbalised.
“you know what, forget i said anythin’” you run off before she could say anything. “qué? (what)” she was about to ask you to repeat yourself, one - because you were speaking too fast, two - she didn’t know what fancy meant.
you heard her call out for you but you ran into the change room, knowing keira and lucy were in there. “keira!” you yell, “fucking check my pulse!” you shove your arm in her face and she looks at you in shock. only a couple of people were inside, and the ones that were were shocked at how you tumbled into the room.
“jesus, your heart is going so fast” keira says as she presses her fingers to the inside of your wrist. “fuck, why couldn’t you tell me i’m dead and this is a nightmare” you groan, your hands running over your face frustratingly.
“what’s wrong with you?” lucy says as she walks out of the shower to see you in absolute shambles. “everything!” you explain each and every detail and they look at you sympathetically, understanding now why you were so upset.
what you didn’t know was alexia was outside, ear pressed to the door as she heard you explain that you were trying to confess. she feels her stomach tighten, cursing herself for not understanding what you were saying.
“whatever, i’m going home, don’t follow me” you grit, tears pooling at your waterline as you rush out. alexia had moved out of eyeline when she heard you, quickly going into the change room and drilling lucy and keira for your address that they happily gave her with sly grins. happy to know it was all a misunderstanding.
that afternoon, you hastily wiped your tears away thinking about alexia. you had misunderstood her intentions clearly, you were disappointed with yourself.
you heard the banging from the front door and groaned, knowing your fellow england teammates were probably on the other side with ice cream and apologetic smiles.
“i told you both not to follow me-” you huff, the door opening to see alexia standing there, a bouquet of bright flowers in hand. “hola (hello)” she smiles, “what are you doing here?” you ask softly, “can i come in?” you nod, moving back a little so she could step inside. she hands you the flowers and you take them with a confused expression.
what type of rejection was this?
“i heard you speaking to lucy and keira before” she starts nervously, both of you walking to the kitchen so you could put the flowers in water, they were beautiful.
“it’s fine if you don’t feel the same” you shrink into yourself, brushing the petals of one of the flowers between your fingers.
“hermosa (beautiful)” she calls out, moving around your counter to stand directly in front of you. “me gustas mucho, y quiero estar contigo (i like you a lot, i want to be with you)” she says earnestly, speaking in her mother tongue and hoping you understood because she was speaking from the heart.
you freeze, each and every word quickly translated in your head. “amor (love), you’re very beautiful and nice but you speak very fast, i did not understand a word you said before” she laughs, you can’t help but laugh too, shaking your head at how fast you fled the situation.
“i’m sorry, ale” you grin, “don’t be” she dismisses, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, relishing in the blush she just produced on your cheeks.
“me gustas mucho (i like you a lot), alexia” you smile, she gives you a dazzling expression, appreciating how you spoke her mother tongue to her so she really understood this time. “muy bien, preciosa! (very good, precious)” she coos affectionately, her hand cradling your cheek as she directed your eyes to hers.
“we will teach each other, sí?” she grins cheekily, you hum along with her words, “sí”.
she pulls you closer to place a sweet kiss on your lips, your stomach lurching at how soft they were against yours.
you both smile into it as she drew you closer, your arms wrapping around her neck while her free hand came to rest on the small of your back to press you against her.
she pulls away, not without pressing a few more kisses to your lips through the giggles and the small chatter between the two of you.
when you both came to training the next day hand in hand, sighs of relief were heard from everyone. lucy whipped out her phone as quickly as she could and sent pictures to the england group chat, your phone blowing up more than ever.
now that the team saw you interact, the teasing somehow got worse every time alexia would kiss you, or even hold your hand.
the pining drove everyone insane but the loved up versions of the two of you were insufferable. you were attached at the hip, just how you and alexia wanted.
⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆
you know the drill, just pretend it’s you xx
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liked by keirawalsh and 44,232 others
alexiaputellas: mi niña (my girl)
view all comments
yourname: mami
↳ alexiaputellas: i didn’t teach her this
↳ marialeonn16: sureeeee
lucybronze: the most annoying couple ever
↳ yourname: shut up man
↳ leahwilliamsonn: there she is!!
↳ keirawalsh: she went soft but is still a shit head
↳ yourname: @/alexiaputellas bebé! defend me!
↳ alexiaputellas: you are soft
↳ yourname: the betrayal is unreal
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moomin279 · 6 months ago
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he lost his seat
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jacob rees mogg should drop dead
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f1cflcfic · 1 day ago
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The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) Part III
pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (y/n)
summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".
note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons.
genre: social media au, angst, exes to lovers, happy ending
part i part ii
♥・*:.。 。.:*・゚♡・*:.。 。.:*・゚♥
Halloween, 2026
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1st week of November, 2026
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[Transcript of Y/N on the Graham Norton Show]
“Wow, Y/N L/N everybody, with “Jaded” from her new album “the Prophecy” that’s out next week - thank you, that was amazing.”
“Thanks so much, I was so nervous!”
“Nervous?” A giggle ripples through the audience at Graham’s incredulous expression. “Do you really still get nervous?”
“I do, yeah for special performances like this one, or Saturday Night Live in the States – it’s scary to sing on live TV!”
“Now, would you say that’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done?”  Y/N doesn’t answer, just looks on warily. “Because it’s just been Halloween, and I heard that last year’s was particularly scary for you.”
“Yes, but only because I just wasn’t made for Halloween – I hate scary stuff, but have a very insistent slasher loving friend,” Y/N confesses, then moans in embarrassment, hiding behind her hands. “I can’t believe you’re bringing this up Graham, I’m gonna be so uncool after this.”
“It’s okay,” Paul Mescal chimes in from further up the red sofa, “I can’t watch horror or anything like that either.”
With a small, grateful smile, Y/N starts recounting a story. “Right?! But I have this friend who is obsessed, and she’s wanted me to go to a haunted house with her for ages. I fumbled my excuse last year, then got dragged into it. It was awful. I went in holding Sabrina’s hand, but then that traitor let go of me at the very first jumpscare, which was some type of room with this chainsaw guy and then a bunch of creepy people making creepy noises. I tried to grab her hand again and just made a run for it in a blind panic, only to realise halfway down the hall that the creepy noises aren’t stopping and I’m screaming and running even harder. Until there’s a tug on my hand and I turn around, only to realise that I’ve been running through this maze with a death grip on this poor actor’s hand. And he just goes “if I show you the exit, will you take a selfie with me?”, and that’s the one and only time I’ve ever made use of the celebrity card.”
Everyone laughs, which Graham seamlessly uses to pivot to the Red Chair stories. “Let’s see what other entertaining stories we have here today. Tell us, what’s your name and where are you from?”
“Hi, my name’s Vivian and I’m from Glastonbury.”
“Oh, that’s nice! The hallowed festival grounds – is your story related to that at all?”
“It does, actually!”
Graham looks delighted by that, and claps his hands, “oh yes – I can’t wait to hear this. Off you go Vivian”
“So I work as a police officer in Somerset, but I usually take time off for Glastonbury each year, whereas some of my colleagues work security for everyone attending. Y/N was actually performing that year, so I made sure to take time off to watch her set.” It makes Y/N smile, but when she leans in to get a closer look her eyes go wide all of a sudden.
Graham looks over at Y/N questioningly, but motions for Vivian to continue – his hand resting on the lever. 
“I remember showing up to work afterwards, only to find out that my colleagues had been the ones to escort Y/N to and from the festival grounds. I was really bummed about it, jealous they got to meet her. But then earlier this year, around September or so I was on patrol in the area – it was a fairly quiet day on country roads. Until we get closer to this small borough, and there’s someone quite clearly about to drive through a roundabout counterclockwise.”
Y/N sinks into the sofa, trying to disappear. “We signal for the driver to pull over, and when I go up to their vehicle to write them a ticket, I got my moment after all - it turned out to be Y/N.”
“In my defense – I hadn’t driven in the UK for three years, I’m sorry! I paid the ticket!” Y/N says weakly.
The audience laughs, and Y/N cheeks go red from humiliation, but Vivian is quick to corroborate. “She did, and even signed my phone for me.”  
“Alright Vivian, that’s a good story, you can walk, go on then. Reminder everyone tonight in London – be safe on the roads, Y/N is out there!”
2d week of November, 2026
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2 week of November - release weekend, 2026
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[Daily Mail excerpt] Lando No-Comment-rris refuses to answer questions about ex-girlfriend Y/N L/N as he parties it up in London
As the Formula One driver for McLaren turns yet another year older, the question if he's also gotten any wiser. Norris was photographed entering exclusive club Annabel's, before later making his way to a private afterparty with close friend Martin Garrix.
The driver has been having an eventful F1 season, with a very tight race for the championship that's seemingly going to get decided in the final race, as Norris battles it out to defend his current #1 ranking. The athlete has clearly reaped the benefits of his new and improved lifestyle, which seems to include a strict exercise and mealplanning regimen and very little distractions. However, Norris clearly made an exception for his birthday, as onlookers said he was "taking shots" and "enjoying himself" in the VIP section. Pictured below is Norris, together with friends Martin Garrix and fellow driver Max Verstappen.
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Perhaps the night was much needed, as Norris has had to endure a very private break-up becoming very public after the release of Y/N L/N's latest album on his actual birthday. In fact, in a rare twist of fate, both the F1 driver and his ex were spotted in the UK capital over the weekend to mark the occasion. While Norris enjoyed Mayfair, L/N was spotted elsewhere in the city as she performed an acoustic set of "The Prophecy".
The two previously resided in Monaco, but since their break-up have not been seen much in public. Norris is believed to have moved his main residence back to the UK, while L/N is rumoured to have returned to her original residence as well.
Up until now, Norris and L/N have remained tightlipped about their relationship and ensuing breakup. When asked about his feelings on the album's release date, Norris refused to comment. Similarly, he did not want to answer questions as to whether the two had been in touch. In a recent interview on the popular podcast Call Her Daddy, L/N did seem to imply there were no hard feelings between the two. The two do still share mutual friends, as is evident by Martin Garrix congratulating Y/N L/N on her new album in his IG stories earlier this weekend.
We have reached out to their reps for comment.
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3d week of November, 2026
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♥・*:.。 。.:*・゚♡・*:.。 。.:*・゚♥
You can read Part I & II by going here, part IV will be out soon!
♥ likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated ♥
taglist (open) : @charlesgirl16
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dragon-kazansky · 9 months ago
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Bridgerton shade of blue
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Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader
Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.
{Masterlist}
{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}
Season one
Chapter Nine - Late night scandals
♡♡♡
"What do you think Bridgerton?"
Benedict turns around to find the artist he had accidentally offended at the gallery the other night.
"This one more to your liking?"
"Mr. Granville--" Benedict raises from his chair to approach the man.
"Perhaps they should take it over to Somerset House so it can be skyed right next to mine."
"I believe I owe you an apology, sir." Benedict says, feeling rather embarrassed.
"Unnecessary. I actually quite enjoy the eloquent stings of your critique. So?" He gestures back to the painting on the wall.
"A touch morose for my tastes," Benedict says.
Henry points to the next one.
"A tragedy. The hound deserved better," Benedict comments.
Granville laughs. "Where is yours?"
"My..."
"Your work," Granville clarifies. "Are you tell me you're not an artist yourself?"
"Well, I-- I suppose sometimes I like to... Well, I mean, I almost--"
"I believe 'yes' and 'thank you' are the words you seek. But either way, you should come by my studio." Mr Granville holds out a small card to Benedict, who accepts it. "The pieces I do for myself are there, and I think you will find my real work far less, um... Oh, how did you put it? 'Cold and lacking inner life?'"
Benedict scrunched up his face as he nodded, still burning with embarrassment. "I shall never live that down, shall I?"
Mr Granville leaves.
Benedict returns to his table where he had been absentmindedly doodling. Eyes. He was sketching out a pair of eyes. Pretty ones. From memory.
He sighs and closes the sketchbook.
♡♡♡
As you sit in the drawing room of the Bridgerton house, as invited by Violet, you discover that she had no idea about the boxing match, or that Daphne had been there.
You keep your eyes focused on the latest Whistledown paper, though you had stopped reading it.
Daphne was playing the piano while her mother interrogated her.
"A boxing match is no place for any young lady." Violet sighs.
"Is it a place for a prince? Was he at today's match, sister?" Hyacinth asks.
"He certainly was."
"It is a loathsome and barbarous form of entertainment," Violet was very displeased.
That was when Daphne took the opportunity to mention you had gone as well, which had Violet looking at you.
"You too?"
You glare softly at Daphne, who gives you a smug little look. Crafty one, she is.
"Anthony invited me," you admit.
Violet looked terribly ill all of a sudden. You were sure she would being this up with her eldest son at some point.
"What about the duke?" Hyacinth asks.
"What about the duke?" Both Violet and Daphne ask at the same time. You eye Daphne curiously from your seat.
"Was he also present?" Hyacinth asked, less enthusiastic now.
"I do not know," Daphne says. "If the duke was there, I did not see him."
Hyacinth leaves the piano to go see what Eloise is up to. She had been scribbling away in her book since you arrived.
You put the Whistledown column down and rose from your seat to seek entertainment near the window. Watching the street was surely more entertainment than listening in on that conversation.
Anthony enters the room and greets both his mother and his sister. You turn and he greets you too.
"Did you truly take your sister to a boxing match?" Violet hounds him.
"Your admonishment will have to wait. I have news," he cuts her lecture short. "Prince Friedrich has asked for my permission to propose." He looks at Daphne.
She stops playing. "So soon?"
"Well, what did you tell him?" Violet asks.
"That I know better than to answer for my sister. I have no objections to the man. People speak well of him. Whatever you decide, Daph, you shall have my support."
You look at Daphne quietly.
"I... uh... I..." She doesn't know what to say.
"You need not decide now," Violet tells her. "You certainly have no known him long."
"Let me know when you have an answer, and I shall convey it." Anthony says to his sister.
"Indeed." Daphne looks at him.
Anthony leaves as quickly as he came in. It was clear Daphne needed time to think.
♡♡♡
When Daphne had pleaded with you to attend the next ball with her, you couldn't say no. There was a sadness to her gaze, and you wondered from where it had risen.
Something had happened between her and the duke, and she had been off kilter ever since.
The ball, like all had been so far, was wonderful. The theme was a little more out there this time, but everyone was behaving quite perfectly.
You were standing with Daphne as she scanned the crowd. Exactly who she was looking for, you weren't quite certain. You would suggest the prince on the account that the duke was apparently leaving London tonight.
The prince could be seen across the room. He was in conversation with someone. You glance toward Daphne, but your gaze shifts as Cressida Cowper comes over. You give Daphne a gentle nudge.
"Daphne." Cressida chuckles. "You look beautiful, as always."
"Thank you, Cressida," Daphne says politely.
"You could have chosen anyone," Cressida says. "You have gentlemen lined up to pay you tribute. Yet you did not hesitate to steal my chance for happiness away, did you? I knew the marriage market would make rivals of us, but I never thought youcapable of being my enemy."
"The man made his choice, Cressida. What did you expect me to do?" Daphne asks.
Daphne walks off in the direction of the prince. You look at Cressida and then walk off in the other direction.
There is nothing you could ever say to her.
You begin to walk alongside the dance floor, watching the couples dance. A hand comes into view, and you turn to see a friendly looking young man smiling at you.
"May I have this dance?"
You take a moment to gather yourself. You had hoped one of the Bridgerton boys would be here to dance with you, but you supposed you couldn't rely on them every time.
"You may."
You go with him to dance.
It seemed Benedict wasn't here.
♡♡♡
Benedict was, in fact, making his way to the studio of Mr. Granville. He was intrigued by the artist.
He finds the address and knocks on the door. Henry Granville answers.
"Mr. Bridgerton."
Benedict stands there a little awkwardly.
"Come in, come in."
Granville lets him in. Benedict enters and follows him. He is led further inside and finds himself in a large room. A circle of easels presented around two nude models.
"I do not know what I was expecting, but it surely was not this." Benedict says.
"Oh, simply a gathering of like-minded souls." Henry tells him. "Here, let me show you what I've been working on."
Benedict is led further inside the studio. He passes a couple of painters discussing war so causally.
"What do you think?" Henry asks.
Benedict walks over and takes a look at the canvas.
"Hmm. It's a far cry from Somerset House, I must say."
"I shall take that a compliment."
They both chuckle.
"And I must say, I'm truly jealous. Is this your life?" Benedict asks.
"There are advantages to being the second-born." Henry tells him. "Heirs have the responsibility. Second sons have the fun."
They both chuckle again.
"So... why not go have some fun?" Henry gestures to the models. He's giving Benedict the chance to epress himself through art.
Benedict picks an easel and sits down.
♡♡♡
As you dance once again tonight, you spot Anthony standing off to the side. He's staring at the opera singer.
You hard heard whispers about him being infatuated with an opera singer, but had no idea if there lay any truth to them.
You continue dancing with your partner.
Benedict was still a no-show tonight, which you found to be rather disappointing. You had been looking forward to another evening of his little quips and teasing.
When the dance ends, you curtsy to your partner and head in the direction of Anthony and Violet. Lady Bridgerton had tries to introduce her son to a rather pretty young lady, but he showed no interest.
"Shall we dance, Lord Bridgerton?" You ask, looking at Anthony.
He turns and looks at you, for half a second, thinking you were another lady his mother was intent on pushing on him.
"Yes, let's." He offers his arm, and you take it. Violet watches you both go. Even if he chose you, she would be pleased, but she knows her son will not take you as his wife. You're his friend who has come to rescue him from her for a while.
Violet downs a third glass of champagne.
"She is persistent," you say.
"Hm?"
"Your mother."
Anthony chuckles softly. "Yes. Quite."
"The opera singer..."
He looks at you.
"Nevermind. Its not my business."
Anthony's expression softens. "I was - am - found of her."
"Yes. I assumed as much."
Anthony sighs. "It's complicated.
You nod and say no more on the matter. Anthony spins you around elegantly.
"Is Benedict not here tonight?" You ask, twirling with him.
"Benedict? No." He gazes at you. "Why do you ask?"
"I just noticed his absence."
"Missing your dance partner?" He teases.
You chuckle. "Am I that obvious?"
He winks at you, and you shake your head with a smile. "I'm fond of you boys. I can't help it when I notice one of you is missing."
Anthony grins. "How lucky we are to have gained such a special friend such as you."
As Anthony gives you another turn around the floor, you spot Colin speaking with Penelope. You smile softly at the sight and then turn your attention back to the eldest brother.
At least you'll have one Bridgerton on your dance card tonight.
As the next dance begins, Anthony keeps your company longer. You're aware this may catch attention from others, especially Lady Whistledown should she be here, but none the less, you dance with him twice.
You soon see that Colin has left Penelope on the sidelines to dance with Miss Thompson, and you also find the prince talking to Daphne amidst their dance.
The dance ends, and you manage to catch sight of Daphne fleeing the ballroom.
Anthony bows, and you curtsy.
"Until next time." He nods his head at you. You smile and nod, taking your leave. You worry about Daphne and intend to go check on her, but you're stopped by another gentleman.
You sigh and realise you'll have to dance with him before you can flee again.
The dance feels like it drags on, and on, and on. You smile, you listen to your partner talk, but your mind is focused on Daphne. She did not look well when she fled.
When the dance ends, you spot Anthony leaving the ballroom. You waste no more time and follow him.
He heads outside. You follow.
"Anthony?"
He turns and looks at you. "Go back inside."
"What's the matter? What's happening?"
"Did you see him?" Anthony asks urgently.
"Who?"
"The duke."
"He is here?"
"He was, and now I can't find Daphne." You realise he's concerned about his sister.
You hear something further in the garden, and Anthony hurries off. You follow him, close on his heels.
What you find is not what you ever expected to see.
Simon and Daphne were not just kissing. His hands were all over her. Her dress had been pulled down. You cover your mouth, though you can not hide the gasp that escapes you.
Anthony runs at Simon.
"Bastard!"
Simon receives a strong punch to the face. He falls to the ground, and Anthony takes another swing. He punches him a third time and then stands beside his sister. You hurry to her other side and checks her over.
"Daphne..."
She is speechless. She has no words for you. They have been caught in a compromising position.
"You will marry her," Anthony declares.
"What?" Daphne looks at her brother.
"Immediately. We can only hope no one saw you take such liberties, and my sister is saved further mortification. You will marry her!"
Anthony is angry.
"Brother!"
"I cannot marry her," Simon says.
"You have defiled her innocence, and now you refuse her hand? I knew you were a rake, Hastings, I never thought you a villain."
"I cannot marry her," Simon states more firmly.
Daphne looks hurt.
"Then you leave me no choice. I must demand satisfaction."
"A duel? Anthony, you cannot--" Daphne begins.
"He dishonours you, sister." Anthony looks at her. "He dishonours you and me and the very Bridgerton name. I have misjudged you, indeed. You have duped us both, but I shall not see my sister pay for my own misdeeds. We will settle this as gentlemen."
"I understand," Simon agrees. "I shall see you at dawn."
"I do not understand," Daphne says softly. "You would rather die than marry me?"
You look at Simon quietly.
"I am truly sorry."
"We need to go, Daph. Before anyone should see us." Anthony says softly.
You reach out for her arm gently and pull her away, Anthony follows you both.
Daphne takes her brother's arm after he begs of you not to say a word about anything. You swear by it, looking him in the eye. Anthony thanks you.
You drift off from them as you enter the ballroom once again.
Anthony approaches Colin and tells him he is taking her home. He asks Colin to take care of their mother. You decide to step in and help. Anthony looks grateful.
Anthony and Daphne leave.
Colin looks at you, but you just smile softly at him and ask him to help you with Violet. He doesn't say anything about Daphne or Anthony.
Neither do you.
♡♡♡
@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333
@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173
@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner
@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd
@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle
@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @crazymar15
@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen -
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diamonddaze01 · 3 months ago
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The Somerset Affair (TEASER)
pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN teaser wc: 1.2k | series wc: ~20-30k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, eventual smut, more to be added a/n: this is my longest work yet and it genuinely took a village. // ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and thank you to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites and haneul @chanranghaeys you all are amazing and i adore you for dealing with me // 1st part will be posted on Tuesday, with sporadic updates as I finish chapters
summary: the three times seokmin asks you to stay, and the one time you do.  
comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the fic taglist here!
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On the eve of your debut, you find yourself seated on the swing in the garden of the Somerset townhome, the night cloaked in an almost palpable tension. The sounds of Mayfair filter through the stillness—a symphony of distant laughter, the soft clatter of carriages, and the occasional rustle of silk skirts—as the ton settles into slumber. The air feels electric, crackling with anticipation, as if the entire world is holding its breath, waiting for the events of the morrow to unfold.
You take a deep drag from the cigarette you swiped from Minghao’s rooms, the smoke spiraling into the night like a fleeting thought. With each inhale, you hope to drown out the anxious fluttering of your heart, a dissonant rhythm that accelerates at the mere thought of tomorrow’s debut.
“Why, Lady Xu Y/N, are you smoking?” The voice breaks through your reverie, causing you to sputter and cough, hastily attempting to conceal the cigarette behind your back. You turn to see Seokmin, leaning casually against the sturdy oak tree that secures the swing, his figure silhouetted against the moonlight.
His presence is both familiar and disarming, the boyish charm of his smile juxtaposed against the weight of his title. “No, Seokmin, I—” you stammer, flustered.
“Shove over,” he commands lightly, and before you can protest, he plucks the cigarette from your frozen grip, taking a deep, leisurely drag. The sight of him—so confident, so carefree—sets your heart racing in a way that both delights and terrifies you.
“What on earth are you doing here?” you ask incredulously, half-exasperated, half-amused.
“I was with your brother at White’s,” he replies, amusement dancing in his eyes. “It was my mistake to forget how little he can imbibe before devolving into an utter fool. I was merely making sure he returned home safely.” His tone shifts, curiosity sparkling in his gaze. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”
“Excited? Hardly,” you grumble, kicking at the scattered rocks beneath your feet. “What my heart truly desires is to run away—pack my things, flee to Paris, and open a quaint little bookstore. Perhaps live out my days as a spinster, surrounded by novels and solitude.”
Seokmin’s expression shifts, a shadow of understanding passing across his features. “We cannot always have what our hearts desire,” he says, his voice tinged with a hint of sorrow as he exhales a plume of smoke. “Sometimes, we must accept that we can find happiness in what we have, not in what could have been.”
You watch the smoke dance and dissipate into the night sky, thoughts swirling as restlessly as the tendrils of fog around you.
“And you?” you ask quietly, the question escaping before you can catch it. “What does your heart desire?”
“Desired,” he corrects, taking another deep drag. “I once dreamed of being a fencer, of dueling beneath the sun. But above all, I yearned to find love.”
Your heart stutters at his admission. His thigh brushes against yours, an electric touch that feels so scandalously intimate you can hardly breathe. You suddenly become acutely aware of the nightgown you wear, the thin fabric doing little to shield you from the heat radiating from his body. If Minghao were to catch you in this moment, you are certain he would demand that Seokmin either marry you on the spot or duel him for your honor.
The very thought sends a shiver down your spine—an improper thought that both terrifies and thrills you. You are a young lady, poised to make your debut, and here you are, perched so closely to an eligible duke, the expectations of the ton looming like a dark cloud. What would society say if they were to discover you in this clandestine moment? The whispers would be deafening, your reputation in tatters, and yet… the thrill of it, the danger, pulls at you like a siren's song.
“And you believe you shall never find it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
“I am a Duke, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so soft it barely pierces the night air. “Duty must come first. If there is any part of me left, which there rarely is, only then can I pursue love.”
The distance between you feels both impossibly vast and achingly close, the weight of his words pressing against you like an invisible force. You can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the unspoken longing that mirrors your own.
You hum, encouraging him to continue, yet the weight of his words presses down on your chest.
“But how fortunate am I,” he continues, his gaze piercing through the night like a beacon, “to have found such a remarkable friend who stands by me even as duty threatens to drown me where I stand.”
A friend. The word lingers between you, heavy and loaded. Is that truly all he sees you as? The realization sends your mind reeling, your heart racing in an entirely different way.
No, the trees whisper, urging you to reconsider.
Could it be…love?
That foreign sensation, long buried beneath layers of propriety and friendship, now unfurls within you, roots taking hold. You realize with a start that you have loved Seokmin, perhaps from that very first kiss on your hand all those years ago, long before you could articulate the feelings swirling in your heart.
Panic courses through you, and you leap up from the swing as if it has burned you. “It is late, Lord Lee. I must take my leave now,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. “I hope you find your way home safely.”
He reaches out, his hand brushing against your wrist, and your breath hitches at the contact. “Wait,” he says, his voice low, almost laced with concern. “Are you alright? You seem... distant.”
His eyes search yours, and you feel the weight of his gaze, an anchor that both comforts and terrifies you. Your pulse quickens, a frantic rhythm echoing in your ears. What would it mean to linger here a moment longer, to let the night wrap around you like a cocoon?
But all the books you’ve read offer no preparation for the heartache that comes with knowing he regards you as merely a friend. A friend, just like your brother. You are his friend, and the shattering realization settles in: he will never love you back.
“Tulip?” he adds softly, the word a whisper that brushes against your skin like the wind.
You swallow hard, every part of you aching to give in, to lean into the connection pulsing between you. But the truth looms like a storm cloud overhead, dark and inevitable.
You love Lord Lee Seokmin, Duke of Lancaster, but he will never love you.
And with that heavy knowledge weighing on your heart, you turn to leave, every step toward your room feeling like a betrayal to the emotions simmering just beneath the surface. 
You don’t sleep at all, thoughts consumed by a boy you had once known and the man you now love.
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captain-camille · 11 months ago
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_𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞_
�� Jack Sparrow x f!reader
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‣ As a young woman of noble blood, society is a golden cage. There is no mention of you unless the subject is marriage or manners while your trip to Port Royal has become a rescue maneuver. One faithful night aboard the Dauntless you finally snap. And meet the captive Captain Jack Sparrow...
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𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 18+ language, old society rules, emotional chaos, very light angst ‣ 3,4k words
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Your dress weighed heavy on your shoulders, the corset strangled your lungs to a delicate point where you began to feel dizzy.
Silver cutlery laid untouched next to your empty plate. The hunger had long passed. 
Either way was it impossible to properly eat with this torture device crushing your ribs. You would fetch a banana later.
“Miss Sheffield“ Lord Somerset hardly drew your attention while he adjusted his white wig “I find myself greatly invested in the many stories of your brother. They're indeed impressive, are they not?“.
It took nerves to hinder your eyes from rolling.
Instead, you gave him an appreciative but short nod. There was bitter sarcasm within the subtlety of your gesture.
Another man's head, adorned with a teal hat with feathers, turned towards you. Father.
“They are, clearly“. You verbally lend weight to your faux-assent as your father's stern gaze fixed on your face.
You suspected him pleased now.
However, his interest in you promptly vanished and a song of praise of someone else continued to fall from his pale lips.
Sweet, boisterous praise for your great brother, of course. 
You were sick of it but with time had begun to see it as an opportunity to reign over your own life as freely as possible.
For as long as possible.
Every eye and word was on your brother while you, the sister of the new Governor of Nassau and member of the Privy Council, were neigh invisible.
And still you could never leave the shiny prison that was the English noble society. Like living in a nightmare that had occasional sunlight in it but was full of madness anyway.
As the men's triumphant laughter echoed across the room, you pictured how Davy Jones' Locker would be a better place to bide your time.
Or maybe you should run away and live a seamstress' life. Alternatively, a barmaid.
In the corner of your vision you saw Norrington slightly leaning over to you. The new Commodore stationed in Port Royal, as he was.
“You look fabulous tonight, Miss“ he cooed, voice low.
His blue gaze rested on the glittering necklace you wore. A collective of silver, sapphires and pearls Lord Somerset had gifted you upon boarding the Dauntless.
Or perhaps Norrington's gaze laid on your cleavage but if so, he concealed it well.
He had to. Hell would come upon him.
You flashed him a polite smile and a demure “Thank you, Commodore“ before your eyes wandered off to the sea that was painted in the colors of a tropical sunset.
The windows were small but still incapable to diminish the glimmer. It went straight to your heart...
“Since you are a young woman, too-“ the man continued, hoisting a chalice to his lips. Beneath the table, your hand balled in a fist.
It did little to soothe your nerves, though.
“-I wondered whether you would think Elizabeth liked such jewelry as, um, a wedding gift?“ his smooth voice asked but the hesitant tone betrayed him.
You had long seen it in his eyes that Norrington's desires to marry Swann's daughter weren't as honest as he tried to make it seem.
Just as Elizabeth struggled to let go of the young blacksmith Will Turner she was currently trying to rescue.
Just fellow souls lost in this noble dilemma, you almost chuckled to yourself.
Luckily, you were quick enough to bridle any inner jests and looked back in Norrington's eyes.
“I’m most certain she would be delighted. However, it occurred to me that Miss Swann prefers silver to gold.“ you advised him before he got dragged back into a naval discussion with the men. 
Not even thanks were left for your input.
Once again your brother's name was thrown around like a cricket ball. 
The urge to just leave this charade of a dinner grew stronger while darkness began to fall upon the majestic Dauntless.
Candle light reflected in the men’s white and grey wigs like it would in the feathers of doltish pigeons.
Nearly scoffing, the focus of your eyes blurred.
Thoughts wandered off to the small bits of information you had grasped throughout the last two days; a business trip to Port Royal had turned into quite an amusing rescue maneuver as Norrington spotted the smoke signal Elizabeth was sending from a lonely island. 
She was brought onto the ship along with a mysterious pirate who turned out to be none other than the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow.
Lord, he seemed so different to the men you were used to. So interesting…
“Yn, the Lord's question was, would you be his companion on a visit to your brother?“ The raspy voice of your father suddenly cut through your thoughts like a sharp knife. 
You cleared your throat, hiding a muttered “god, no“ along the cough.
No, you simply couldn’t do this any longer tonight.
Tomorrow morning the misery would begin anew and the nights were too short anyway.
Dinner was over for you, you decided and shot up, heading towards the door. 
“Young Miss, where do you think you are going?“ your father called across the room, causing you to spin and face him along with everyone else seated on the grand table.
An unreadable expression settled on your face, lips moving on behalf of your temper. 
“Father, I do believe you won’t miss me much while conversing solely about my brother“. 
Norrington let out a shaky breath, his head turning to expect your father’s answer. Obviously, he was used to Elizabeth's docile manners.
The grey wig beneath Lord Sheffield's hat shifted slightly as he cocked his head.
He looked ridiculous. 
“Then go, yn. I do not have the time nor the patience for your behavior right now“ he sighed, waving his hand in an enervated gesture of dismissal “Check on Miss Swann when you pass by“.
The stingy sensation of the corset fighting your big breaths vexed you, along with your father's aloof attitude.
Nevertheless, he granted you exactly what you wanted; to leave and mind your own business.
A business that had preferably sparsely to do with these men.
“Thank you, sir. I will“ you curled your lips, forcing a hasty smile before your knees bent in a curtsy. “Lord Somerset, thank you again for the generous gift. Commodore“.
The Lord stood up with his chest puffed, trying to address you. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Sheffield. I wish you a good-“  
But the rest of his irrelevant set-phrase was cut off by the door closing behind your back. It snapped shut with a soft rock of the Dauntless.
As if she felt sorry for you.
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Taking a big breath of the fresh sea breeze your tongue finally spoke some truth. “Damn you, Somerset“.
It felt good, even if it did little to improve your situation.
You knew you had to get away from the cabins or else your words of pent-up frustration would eventually find them.
Maybe you would find solace on the quarterdeck instead?
As you marched up the stairs with a grimace on your face from how impractical the heavy dress was, a young maid brushed past you with filled wineglasses on a silver tray. 
She smiled with respect, but could barely hide her excited look at the luxurious necklace.
Her soft lips parted when she spoke up in awe “If I may, Baron Somerset really is doting upon you, Miss“.
At her comment, the matching earrings with the similarly cut sapphires began to itch.
“So it seems“ you answered flatly, still trying your best not to let it all out on the innocent girl. 
“I happen to have overheard him talking about how beautiful your children would be“ she added with enthusiasm, unaware of your aversion to said nobleman.
You felt your gut twist and tighten at the vision alone. 
Children with this man? No.
On the brink of screaming or crying, your hand flew up to grab one of the glasses.
“Did he now?“ You hoisted it and bathed your upper lip in the sweet taste of Portuguese wine “Golden me“. 
Hearing her colleague call for her, the maid quickly curtsied and made her way down to the main cabin.
You sighed heavily, taking another sip.
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Up on the spacious quarterdeck you wasted no time, set the glass down on a random barrel and began to take off your earrings. 
They were burning on your skin now.
Anger, chagrin and despair rioted in your veins like a hurricane.
So untamed, you didn’t even notice the man at the helm observing your actions through curious eyes.
“To hell-“ you shouted, kicking your right foot so that your shoe flew overboard in a wide arc “with you, father“ the other shoe followed suit.
“And Somerset“ you tossed one earring into the black sea, holding the other one while you unhooked the expensive necklace.
You didn’t hesitate a second to proceed with this macabre yet somehow weirdly freeing act of rebellion.
With your right arm outstretched, jewelry in your hands, you stood at the ship’s railing, wind in your face.
“And to the depths with this society of hypocrites and it's stupid rules“ your now hoarse voice exclaimed bitterly before your tossing arm got stopped mid way. 
What?
Twisting on your stocking feet, you ended up only inches away from Jack Sparrow’s face who was grinning at you with a pleased sparkle in his dark eyes.
You didn't dare to breathe, mouth agape.
He was still holding onto your arm even though you had lowered it in a mixture of shock and awe.
“Not good. Ye wouldn't wanna be doin' that, lassie“ the pirate purred, gold teeth adding to the captivating shine of his eyes.
Since the Navy took him prisoner, you had never spoken to him. Only eves-dropped when he had persuaded Norrington as if it was easy.
And now you could feel his breath fan across your face, the scent of the sea and rum intoxicating your brain.
Slowly, he unwrapped and lifted his fingers off your arm. One by one like a fan.
“Why not? You cannot stop me“ you eventually found your courage again and yanked your arm away. 
The man scrunched his brows, lips closing. The many trinkets in his dreadlocks clinked as Sparrow cocked his head.
Your eyes were slaves to his eccentric mimic for a little while before you finally got to step back.
His presence somehow calmed you down, brought your nerves to a halt. All the way to the point where you remembered your manners.
“My apologies, Mister Sparrow. I didn’t mean to-“ you began to apologize for the snappy behavior but he interjected with a finger pointing at you.
“Never be sorry for disobeying rules that aren't worth following, luv“.
Irritated by the unexpectedly wise words, you found yourself at a loss for an answer.
This man was a real pirate after all. The closest thing to an anarchical life there was. 
Your heart pumped awe through your veins that began to pacify the storm within. 
Features dropping from trained, polite distance to honest distress, your gaze darted down to the jewelry in your hand. It was worth at least as much as your entire collection of summer gowns. 
The blue stones seemed somewhat black tonight.
As grim as your future. With Somerset. Or any other noble, dim-witted aristocrat. 
The pirate just stood and watched the tragic poem being written all over your beautiful face. His silence allowed the gears in your mind to shift.
Then, you seemed put.
“What even are you doing at the helm, Sparrow?“ You asked to avoid any potential questions when you mindlessly chucked the bundle of jewelry to him.
He grinned again as an audible clink and clatter signaled you that he had caught it.
You were sure that Sparrow had a better use for it than you did. Whatever it may be.
Admittedly, you would have just thrown it overboard or locked it away in a random jewel casket for eternity.
A husky gravel met your ears when he cleared his throat after sinking the necklace deep into the inside pocket of his brown jacket.
It was as if he knew you didn't have any expectation of thanks or desire for inquiring about your deed.
“Isla de la Muerta can only be found by those who already know where it is-“.
Slow steps of heavy boots on wooden tiles neared you from your left.
“And rumors have it me, meself and I have a heading Norrington doesn’t, savvy?“ Sparrow slurred, snapping open a compass as he leaned his back against the railing next to you.
With your eyes raking over the dusk ocean, you couldn’t help but risk a peak over to his hands.
You grimaced. The compass obviously didn’t point north.
Was he tricking the Commodore?
Suddenly, Jack chuckled, clearly having seen your expression.
“Nah... tale for another night“ he simply stated closing the small, brown box again.
His intense gaze crawled all over your side profile and pinned updo. “Tell me somethin’ about ye, Missy. Plagued by those wig-suckers, eh?“ 
You gave a snort of laughter, enjoying his unfiltered way of addressing the men you were used to calling 'Lord', 'Governor' or 'Commodore'.
“You know exactly who I am. Do not call me Missy“ you snapped, biting down a playful smile no one had ever elicited as easily as the foreign pirate did.
Perhaps it should worry you but it didn’t in the slightest. 
Jack arched his figure to lean back more and study your edged expression from the front. You tried to shoot him an unfazed look but the pirate saw right through it and smiled widely. 
How he could read you so emphatically was far beyond what you were used to from men. It confused you. 
Just as it puzzled Jack that your behaviour was so devoid of any of the hospitality and judgement he had come to expect from your class.
It only drew the both of you deeper into whatever this conversation would become.
“Apologies, me bad. Miss Sheffield“ his deep voice cooed, finally cracking your surface and putting a soft blush on your cheeks.
“It never occurred to me that Pirates can be this charming“ you snickered with a hint of irony, eyes resting on Sparrow’s unique features for a moment.
His tanned skin was reflecting the flickering light of oil lamps. Sparrow was a handsome man, you realized.
Effortlessly and in tune with the ship's rocking, the man pushed off the railing to trail behind you.
“I always expected Pirates to be more- rogue, I suppose“ you mused, more to yourself.
Sparrow tsk'ed but he didn't seem hurt.
Your head cocked when you felt his hot breath close to the nape of your neck.
“A Shilling that I can alter your outlook on Pirates all by me onesies, eh?“ His comment was nonchalant and smug but in a swinging way.
This man had nerves. 
“Didn't I just give you a collier worth far more than one Shilling?“ you asked rhetorically, amplifying the perky tone.
The pirate hummed, as if contemplating. “Alright, then. Consider your debt paid“.
It was utterly refreshing to converse so freely without any rules or boundaries. You grew fond of it with every passing second. 
When Sparrow didn’t re-appear on your other side, you turned around to spot him chugging down the wine you had abandoned in your rage.
“Sorry, it’s no rum but-“
“-good. That’s good“ he complimented the red liquid, analyzing the ornate chalice through narrowed eyes before he sat it back down.
Carefully, with his pinky stretched out with decorum.
You caught yourself giggling but promptly covered your mouth with a palm. Habits. 
“So, Miss Sheffield...“ the pirate urged you, swaggering closer until he stood by your side again. His elbows were quickly propped on the reddish railing.
“Pray tell“.
You sighed. However, the will to empty your heart was unbreakable. 
It was easier when your gaze found shelter in the darkness of the Caribbean night but Sparrow’s stare lingered on you nonetheless. 
“I- I feel like- No, I am trapped. Trapped in a golden cage with only dull bumbles who want to possess women of standing as if they were accessories for their prevalence-striven plans“ you began to complain, your words gaining speed and intensity throughout the sentence. 
Honest pity flashed behind the pirate's charcoal outlined eyes.
The man had never thought he was capable of pitying those who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths.
And still, there he stood, stricken by the pain in your melodic voice.
You gasped for air, your mind wanting to go on but your throat began to burn on the verge of crying.
“I must behave according to the rules of society, no matter what it is I truly desire. All the poisoned praise goes to my brother while I am only of importance when the subject of my marriage is discussed“.
“Ye brother be the new Governor of Nassau?“ Sparrow eventually asked, his gaze sliding down to where your nails were nervously scratching lines into the wooden railing.
You couldn’t help but scoff in annoyance of his title. “Yes, that be him“. 
The man next to you shrugged his shoulders, the trinkets and charms once again clinking. You would love to find out where he got each of them from.
“I could, in fact, sack Nassau port for ye as soon as I rip me Pearl from Barbossa’s slimy, old hands“ a tad of disgust infused his bold words at the foreign name.
“Jus' a humble offer. What ye say, lassie?“. 
Sparrow was trying to cheer you up.
A small smile began to reign over your lips again, toes curling. “That would only get you killed, fierce pirate“ you noted, trying to sound as judicious and rational as possible.
Instead, he grinned even broader and spread his arms in an eccentric, self-presenting pose. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, luv“ he declared as if it was self-explanatory.
For the first time in a while the sea breeze caught and carried your sincere laughter.
Sparrow’s braided goatee twitched as he found himself biting his lip at the pretty sound and look.
You were a stunning woman in noble clothes with noble blood in your veins but with a spirit as wild and ravenous as his own.
You enthralled him.
“Bring this to my daughter. She shall eat, at least. The Commodore risks too much by rescuing young Turner, he cannot afford to see his fiancé unwell“ Governor Swann’s order suddenly boomed across the main deck, followed by hasty steps of a maid.
Instinctively, Sparrow snaked his hand around your shoulder, across your chest and pulled you back with him.
Out of sight.
His rough hand on your mouth muffled a shrill cry just enough. 
“They thinkin’ yer asleep, eh, Miss Sheffield?“ His voice was lowered, almost just a husk and yet it was filled with this mischievous, flirtatious tone.
God, this man sent shivers down your spine like no other. 
But he was still a lawless pirate.
A prisoner, even.
Suddenly, whyever, the gravity of your situation and the futility of tonight's zeal made you feel how cold and wet the floor was without shoes.
Brown dreadlocks pressed against the back of your head irrevocably disheveled your updo. 
“Asleep, as I should be...“ you muttered, infused with a hint of re-surfacing anger and despair.
You wriggled yourself out of his protective grasp. The pirate's brow was raised, eyes narrowed on your face.
There was a haze of danger and waywardness about Jack Sparrow that made you question your own courage and spirit. 
“Why did I even tell you all that in the first place?“ you exclaimed, hands thrown up. Slowly stepping away from him, you felt all the emotions crushing your mind.
“You most likely do not care, neither do I profit by wailing. It doesn’t bear contemplating...“.
Sparrow wrapped his right hand back around the handle of the helm, looking rather unfazed by the confusion that was spreading in your system like the Portuguese wine in his own. 
Heavy silence and the occasional laughter from the men in the Captain’s cabin mingled with the soft splash of sea water. 
Your feelings were now as erratic as the rhythm of the crashing waves.
“Look 'ere, luv“.
Your gaze was just about to turn from pleading to the usual bored emptiness as you saw his free hand wander down to his leather belt.
A smirk adorned his bearded face when skilled fingers rapidly detached the compass and threw it over to you.
Stumbling slightly as the ship rocked, you caught the brown box before it could hit the ground.
You heard Sparrow mutter a muted “Thank god“ that made you want to snap at him but the gesture was too interesting not to query.
Why would he think you needed a compass?
Fluster painted your features when you met his weirdly satisfied expression.
“Aren’t you Captain Jack Sparrow? Don’t you need a compass for... that?“ You asked with less challenge in your tone than initially planned.
He chuckled beautifully, shaking his head with eyes closed.
“What?“ You probed when his dark gaze began to rise up from the floor, along your figure.
“I may be without me compass but not without heading and a plan“ the pirate finally explained, taking another step closer to the helm “You, contrastingly and tragically, lack both“. 
Your arms came up and crossed defensively in front of your chest.
But his words and the tight corset made you drop them again rather quickly. 
He was right. You had been lamenting about your situation barely three minutes ago.
“So? What exactly is your compass going to change about that, Sparrow?“.
You peered down at the inconspicuous looking box.
“Everythin'.“ Sparrow stated with a touch of mystery. “Listen what ye heart wants and the compass is gonna give ye a heading, savvy?“.
A big part of you wanted to believe what this infuriatingly interesting man promised while another voice was whispering to you how it was literal magic he was implying.
Magic. 
With a hesitant gesture of offering it back to him, you hoped to find out which voice to listen to.
“But you would want it back, right? It is yours after all“ you commented your action with genuine concern and a small smile.
Plus, the fear that Norrington would kill Jack if he couldn’t find the Isla without his compass. 
Captured by the pirate for one last time, you watched his gold teeth flash in a wide grin, his tattooed hand spreading on his chest as a sign of integrity.
He was being honest, you felt it.
“I will be gettin’ it back, luv. Don't ye worry“. 
Before you creeped down the stairs and eventually headed for your cabin to ponder on your heart's desires, the last you saw of Captain Jack Sparrow was a charming wink. 
The last for now, at least.
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♡ thank you so much for reading my very first POTC fic ever ♡
𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨 𝐡𝐨
@mochie85 @holdmytesseract @socksracoon10 @goldencherriess @chronicallybubbly @kcd15 @always-on-hiatus
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aufi-creative-mind · 1 year ago
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AAHH thank you Garry!! You're the best and I'm still so happy every time I see this bday gift you gave me. ;w;
LEFT to RIGHT:
[Somerset Family]. Deimos Somerset, Lord Oberon Somerset, Saturn Somerset, Lady Andromeda Somerset, Venus Somerset, Alesia Somerset. [Link's immediate family]. Aria Satoru, Selene Somerset, Jun Satoru, Link Satoru (the boi!). [Satoru Family]. Rakurai Satoru, Hagane Satoru and his wife, Yua and their daughter, Kiki. Grandpa Eishun and Grandma Ayaka. [Royal Guard colleagues/friends - Garry's OC] Royal Guard Commander Garrett Louton. Royal Guard Knight Daimon Romanos.
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A birthday gift for @aufigirl / @aufi-creative-mind some time ago, you're a great friend and creative brain cell to have :]
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joshym · 10 months ago
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Muse
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Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader
Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.
Word Count: 3.4k+
Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)
a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.
this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)
as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.
i hope you enjoy. ♡
“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”
.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.
His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.
It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.  
He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.
In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.
Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.
But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.
You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness. 
And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive. 
Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client. 
It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work. 
But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs. 
And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.
There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless. 
The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.
He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind. 
.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.
After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice. 
He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.
“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands. 
“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.
With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.
"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."
“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work. 
Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being. 
After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.
You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once. 
His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.
And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.
The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura. 
He’s flawless. Everything about him.
Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.
Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now. 
The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight. 
“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.
While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.
“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk. 
As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.
“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”
You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.
He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck. 
“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.
With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over. 
The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric. 
You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.
And with that, you're poised and ready.
.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.
As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging. 
This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going. 
“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door. 
As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.
“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago. 
“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.” 
As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently. 
“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.” 
Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath. 
“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”
“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”
With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.
“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head. 
You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette. 
The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light. 
“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body. 
He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.
“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade. 
With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet. 
And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.
He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence. 
You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips. 
But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body. 
Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression. 
Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor. 
.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.
With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.
He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you. 
As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck. 
“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.
It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known. 
“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice. 
“It’s…incredible, Jake.” 
Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body. 
Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them. 
You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.
He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.
“Is this what I really look like?”
“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”
Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp. 
His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands. 
He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.
“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”
And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity. 
“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth. 
“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you. 
He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions. 
And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being. 
You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.  
He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.
“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”
“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him. 
Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.
“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock. 
“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”
You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.” 
He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him. 
Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you. 
Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.  
His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure. 
You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.
Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.” 
With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.
“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release. 
“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax. 
“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested. 
He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs. 
You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with. 
You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth. 
“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek. 
You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand. 
“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch. 
“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.” 
“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.” 
His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.
“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 
.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.
a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.
if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡
love you guys.
taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!)
@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge
Masterlist
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gloster · 11 days ago
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FAVORITE FANFICS OF 2024
2024 is/will/already over....and dear gosh, this year really kicked my butt. Drained me dry. Did a number on me mentally, emotionally, and even my wallet took too many hits. But I live to see another day & enter another year.
As always, the things helped me get through this year was friends both fandom & IRL, good movies, good shows, good music from familiar favs with new albums to KPOP, and of course FANFICS.
Every year fanfic writers both familiar & new to me blow me away with their talent, their writing, their brilliance. And every year I always do this traditional post to give them their flowers. Hence, the reason for this sweet lil' post of mine.
This is a little Tumblr tradition I've been doing now for a whooping 6 years & I look forward to it every time. It's my own favorite of fanfic rec lists. I did ones for 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, & 2023 if you're interested.
Without further ado, here are my favs.
1). however wild by @sayesayes & @noxarcanaart (steddie)
Summary: Prince Steve has always been told to stay out of the forest. And he does… when he’s awake.
This story 🖤this story🖤 this story 🖤this story 🖤 This beautiful, beautiful, incredibly addicting dark jewel is the reason why I was sucked into the steddie fandom- the amazingness that is this story, the beautiful fanart done by @noxarcanaart, & my bestie @dreamydrarry who was determined to pull me into the steddie ship b/c she needed a friend to gush with.
Fun fact. I saved this story on my marked for later for my friend @dreamydrarry b/c this story sounded right up her alley. However, I was too intrigued, particularly thanks to the key word: fae. I love fae. That's one of my magical creatures to read about in fantasy, so whenever I see it mentioned in a story, I have to read. For this one, I decided to read it. And I've never been the same again.
This story was just a masterpiece. A pure masterpiece from beginning to end, living rent-free in my head where I keep thinking about it, Prince Steve being so gentle & brave, fae-Eddie being wicked one second and so devoted the next.
I purposefully delayed my reading because I didn't want it to end. And once I finished, I immediately hopped on to see what other steddie stories @sayesayes had.
Honorable mentions:
genius loci
Flight Risk
locust year
(there is) thunder in our hearts
girlskin
too good to be true
daddy talk series
2). you might have some bruises (and a few scars) by @newtonsheffield (kathony/kanthony)
Summary: Matrimony- Gentleman, 27, seeking eligible lady. Respectable income made from farming livestock and barley in Aubrey, Kent. Gentleman lives with, and provides for six younger siblings and is seeking a wife who would tend to their care and education first and foremost. Family is very important and as such would be willing to provide a living for the lady’s family should this be required. Please send responses through Mrs M Williams, Aubrey village. -Mr A E Bridgerton
OR
Dear Mr Bridgerton, I hope this letter finds both you and your family well as I know the end of Winter tends to lend itself to small children finding themselves unwell. I am writing with regards to the advertisement I noted in the newspaper this past Sunday. I am six and twenty and reside in Somerset, where I grew up, with my mother.
OR
Anthony is a handsome farmer in need of a mother for his younger siblings and no time for courting
OR
The marriage of convenience AU no one needed
Once upon a time, I used to despise marriage being used as a trope in stories from arranged marriages to marriages of convenience. As usual- fanfics came along and completely changed my mind. This story is an example of that. This story also made me more open-minded to farming and farmers in stories, which I never thought of before until I stumbled across this story.
@newtonsheffieldis that writer, especially for the kathony/kanthony fandom, feeding us well with the content and love the damn show refuses to give our favs.
Just when I think I can't love Kate & Anthony anymore, this story deepened my love 100000x fold.
Honorable mentions:
Cupboards
(I feel) the lavender haze creeping up on me
3). I know I've kissed you before (Can I try again) by @transmascsteveharrington (steddie)
Summary: “Still not graduated, Harrington?”
It’s something Eddie would have said teasingly when they were teens. Steve would have smacked him on the shoulder, affectionately calling him an asshole before being pulled into an apologetic kiss. But they are not teenagers anymore and Eddie’s voice lacks any of the warmth that used to be reserved for Steve. Now, it’s just loaded with resentment, which, yeah, is a fair reaction.
“I…eh…work here now,” Steve says lamely and points at his office door. “Guidance counselor.”
or: 14 years after his first big heartbreak, Steve's life is relatively stable. It's been two years since the tragic incident that led to him becoming Dustin's guardian, both of them slowly healing. He is doing amazing at his job and his social life is great. Of course, that's when a person from Steve's past has to come and shake everything up.
OH. MY. GOSH. THIS STORY-THIS STORY-THIS STORY-THIS STORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Best way I can describe this story is the famous Lady Gaga meme: talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it.
Second chance romance is incredibly hard to do, which many try (particularly published authors) and very few can pull off. This story did it well where my heart was lifted, speared, crushed, sewed-up, & melted in an orderly fashion.
4). Living The Unknown Dream by @blushweddinggowns (steddie)
Summary: “How are you feeling?” Steve asked, all wide-eyed and caring.
Eddie gaped at him, fully aware that his entire face must be red. He was trying to form words, he really was, but Steve single handedly put the brakes on that.
Why was Steve Harrington holding his hand? Why was Steve Harrington calling him baby ?
Why did he kiss him, like it was the most natural thing in the world?
Only fanfic writers. Only fanfic writers can take tropes that usually don't tend to stick and turn them into brilliant stories. Amnesia trope is one I've grown to loathe after getting burnt- and incredibly frustrated by it- too many times in other stories. But with this one, I was too intrigued and oh how I fell. Oh how I was proven wrong. And I'm so happy for it.
Yet another story that just deepened my love for a ship that I already carried such deep love for, but then this story came along and it increased 1000000000x.
5). The Yellow Tulips of Texas by @folklauerate (kathony/kanthony)
Summary: Kate runs into a store to get out of the rain, and runs right into a southern gentleman.
(or Texas!Anthony and New Yorker!Kate fall in love)
“You should go,” He says, drawl somehow even stronger now, or is she imagining it? “Most beautiful place on God’s green earth.”
She snorts.
“You laugh now, but just you wait,” He says. “You’ll see, one day.”
“What makes you so sure I’ll go to Texas?”
She has a feeling she knows why he’s so sure, but she asks anyway.
He grins at her.
“A man just knows these things, honey.”
For y'all who didn't think you couldn't be anymore thirsty for Mr. Anthony Bridgerton/ Jonathon Bailey, BEHOLD *presents story in full gusto*. Be Prepared. This story will make you perch for him because 🥵🥵🥵
I do not care for age gap romances. I really don't. Most of what I read usually rub me the wrong way, but the way this one was done, I was greatly impressed. Partially because of their ages where Kate is in her mid-20s & Anthony in his 40s, which isn't too bad. Partially because the writer just knows their stuff and makes magic.
It's because of this story I started hunting for more age-gap romances.
Honorable mentions:
lost in your current like a priceless wine
The MILF in 2B
6). Come Away with Me by FloralUmbrella (kathony/kanthony)
Summary: Anthony and Kate whisk away on their honeymoon. An exploration into the world of intimacy and marriage ensues.
If you are like me, you weren't that particularly impressed with season 3 of Bridgerton for a number of reasons. Including the very very limited scenes of kathony/kanthony, and lack of attention they were given both on-and-off screen.
It's time like this when fanfic writers come through & deliver the content we so desperately need. This story gives us the honeymoon period we were denied in the show, where we see our fav just fall deeper and deeper in love while also learning more about each other.
7). When You Kiss Me (What A Lovely Way To Burn) by @femmequixotic (drarry)
Summary: A drag fairytale of New York in which Draco wears red lipstick and Potter can’t get enough.
An oldie but such a good good goodie. Listen I will always advocate for older fanfics and giving them a chance because you can find some good treasures.
Nothing is more better than going to a story you've been saving forever and it ending up being so much better than expected. Confident Draco in drag, trying to bury the ghosts of his past. Harry stumbling across his club and needing an escape. It's so so so so good.
8). The Librarian by library_fireplace (drarry)
Summary: Draco Malfoy is a reference librarian at a small branch of Britain's wizarding public library system. Harry Potter needs help finding the romance section.
~*~
“Malfoy,” Potter said, slowly. “When did you read The Dragon Tamer?”
Draco felt himself turning pink, and then red. He hadn’t meant to give himself away quite that much, but he also knew that Potter suspected him of following his reading history. He had been found out for his snooping. “I —“ he stuttered embarrassingly, and wanted to melt away into the floor behind the desk. “A few weeks ago, now.”
“And how many romances had you read before that?” Potter pressed, now smirking again, knowingly this time, leaning forward with his arms crossed on the desk. Draco felt himself break out in a shiver that he hoped wouldn’t turn into a sweat.
“Er… None, I’m afraid,” he found himself admitting, even though he had really meant to lie.
“Draco,” Potter smiled. “Did you read it just because I had read it?”
Draco scoffed audibly, but very unconvincingly. “No!”
“I think you did.”
Books have the power to bring people together, even helping old rivals find common ground- and more- within the wonders that lay in their pages. Including some good old smutty smutty.
It's a tale as old as time. Stuffy librarian who believes in "fine literature" A hardcore, shameless romance reader who loves their smut and isn't afraid to show it. This story already was promising featuring Draco as a librarian who has a perfect system for organizing his books. But having Harry be a romance reader whose big stack intrigues Draco into reading, having him fall hard...it's PRICELESS.
9). blood is an aphrodisiac by @cuips-not-cute (steddie)
Summary: There’s a few things Eddie notices when he wakes up.
One, he bites his tongue. It hurts. Of course. The weird thing, though, is he doesn’t taste blood. But he knows he bit it hard and it’s throbbing behind his teeth. He tastes something, and his mouth feels wet but there’s no metallic flavor (metal. He likes metal. He’s remembering). It’s smoother. More earthy.
Two. He’s alone. Completely. No Dustin. Or Robin or Nancy or Steve or anyone.
Three. He’s sore. His whole body aches, his skin is thrumming with it. His neck especially, and his sides like where Steve was bitten, too.
Four. He’s got to blink a couple times to realize this one. Let his eyes adjust from the pitch black of being closed to the dim blue haze of the Upside Down. Yeah, that’s what he realizes. He’s still there.
Five. He’s fuckin’ starving.
In which Eddie wakes up with sharp teeth, Steve has a thing for tongue piercings, and it takes a while for them to figure out what all of that means.
I'm convinced this story was the starter behind the vampire/kas!Eddie fanart I be seeing. Like everytime I see vampire Eddie, I think of this story and the biggest smile spread across my face.
I binged this story. I read it in one sitting-and immediately wanted to go back to the beginning to read all over again. This story felt like one of those urban fantasies, where it's modern day, vampires exist, but they're integrated into modern world. Also despite the fangs and the blood thrist, vampirism has very little to do with the plot and is a stepping stone for these two getting together.
I just how Steve wasn't at all shy about his attraction and just want with it. Meanwhile Eddie is just like 😨🤯😶 I LOVE IT.
Honorable mention:
he could be brave
blinking red light
10). The Stutter and The Freak series by @lexirosewrites (steddie)
Summary: The Hellfire Club can collectively pinpoint the exact day that the formerly ruthless dungeon master known as Eddie “The Freak” Munson became soft. Mostly because it was the same day that Steve “The Stutter” Harrington started school at Hawkins High and became an unofficial member of HFC.
If there's another fanfic writer whose profile I've been devouring, it would be @lexirosewrites. And each one, I get more and more hooked. They have so many stories that I really adored, including the first honorable mentioned that tied with this one for top fav. But there's something about this one that gets me every time.
This one, Steve is such a sweet baby boy who deserved to be protected and Eddie immediately is like, BET, I accept that challenge. Quickly Steve is taken under Dustin's wing, taken into the Hellfire Club, and immediately captures Eddie's heart.
It's a comfort read.
Honorable mentions:
my heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue
Silver
Bandaids for the Heart
And now for the Honorable Mentions that were insanely good but due to time & length, couldn’t go into full depth:
Love You Like A Love Song series by eyesofshinigami (steddie; omegaverse steddie w/alpha Steve & omega Eddie, dissolving and switching norms in the ABO on its head, being so sappily in love)
awake for ever in a sweet unrest: california trail steddie by hesjustlikemefr (steddie; California trail, mid-1800s, alpha Eddie x omega Steve, mpreg, age gap w/older Eddie)
Nice & Quiet by nobetterlove (steddie; hard of hearing Steve, Steve slowly losing his hearing, Eddie & the gang helping him all the way)
you're mine, class president by orphan account (tododeku; based on the anime maid sama ft. flirtious shouto x shy izuku, peppered with so much cuteness)
For the Love of Football by olddarkmachine (sheith; football player shiro x loner-keith set in a 4-part college AU that's so much fun)
Hic sunt dracones by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation (steddie; fated mates w/dragon Eddie & prince Steve, delivered with such beautiful devotion and possessiveness that I gobbled up)
There you have it, folks. The fanfics that live rent-free in my head. The fanfics that helped make this year bearable. Done by the amazing writers who deserve all the praise, love, kudos, comments, and more. And whom I definitely will be checking out their future stuff in the future.
HAPPY NEW YEAR
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call-mi-jinx · 2 months ago
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Dave Lizewski - Limerence
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summary - when you and dave are paired up for an english project, he asks you a question which makes you squirm
warnings - possible stalking? idk sorry, basic fluff,
Main Masterlist Dave Lizewski Masterlist
a/n - hiya gyals, i have been trying to find more than just 3 decent dave fanfics so i jus decided to write my own, ta ta my lovelies! xx
dave lizewski x fem!reader
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Limerence. Noun. Meaning: the state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically experienced involuntarily and characterised by a strong desire for reciprocation of one's feelings but not primarily for a sexual relationship.
This is the feeling I get when I think of Dave Lizewski. Nobody in school cares about him at all. They don't even look at him. Which I'm glad about because that means I get him all to myself. But he never looks at me. God I just want him to look at me, notice me, speak to me, something. But i get nothing.
It still baffles me how no one has tried to ask him out before. He is absolutely beautiful. In fact, ineffable. His brown curls frame his face amazingly. His blue eyes I could look into all day. And god his voice, it could lull me to sleep effortlessly. And his humour, he makes me silently laugh every time I overhear him say something at lunch to his friends.
My friends think I'm weird for thinking he's attractive. They call him a nerd and a weirdo because he reads comic books at that little cafe every day. But that's because they don't see what I see. And it's because they don't look at him as much as I do.
I have almost every class with him, because I found out which classes he chose and switched to them. And those lessons that I needed to get higher grades for, I studied as hard as I could so that I'd be able to move to Dave's classes. My friends call me a stalker but I just want to be closer to him.
Me and my friends are sitting at our usual table which I chose because it was right behind the table Dave usually sits at. My friends never noticed, not caring about anything other than their lunch and the conversations they're having. I never listen, I just look at Dave's features and try to hear what he's talking about. I see his friend turn around to look at me then says something to Dave.
Dave then leans to the side to look at me and I immediately hide my face with a book and blush so furiously you'd mistake me for a tomato. That was fucking embarrassing, I'd been staring that long his friend pointed it out to him. Fuck.
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I was in AP English, one of the classes I had to get my grades up for. I sat a seat to the left from Dave. I don't know what Ms. Somerset was talking about because all I was doing was doodling and trying to catch glances at Dave, while trying not to be obvious at the same time. But my ears perked up when I heard about a project we'd be doing in pairs. I prayed to God or whoever is up there that I'd be paired with Dave.
"Okay, I'm going to list the people that are going to be in pairs together. First, Holly you're with George. Grace with Vanessa. Zach with Jake. Y/N with Dave..." The teachers voice faded away as soon as I heard. My prayers had been answered. Thank you God!
I turned my head to look at Dave and he was already looking at me, we both smiled at each other then turned back towards the teacher.
"The project is going to be a presentation about the analysis of any piece of literature you want to do. Do it however you want it just needs to be a PowerPoint slideshow. Now everyone go sit with your partner and begin planning your presentations." Everyone got up and joined their partner and Dave came over and sat next to me.
"I never knew you were in AP English Y/N..." He felt a bit embarrassed after admitting that. A blush creeped up onto my face, well that's a bit embarrassing.
"I changed to this class about 5 months ago, I just never talk because none of my friends are in this class." I gave him a shy smile as Ms. Somerset handed us some coloured pens and a piece of paper to make a plan.
"You're in my Chem, Bio and Physics as well now that I think about it. And my History, Computer Science and Design Tech. You're in all my classes and I never noticed you before. Except at lunch or breaks, or when we walk home the same way. Don't you live a couple blocks from me?" Fuck... What if he connects the dots? And if he does what if he thinks I'm a freak?
"I wouldn't know, sorry." I gave him an awkward laugh and looked down to the paper.
"So what piece of literature should we choose? We could do something by Jane Austen, Shakespeare, Fitzgerald, Mark Twain?" It shocked me that Dave knew all those writers, mainly because all I've seen or heard about him reading was comic books.
"I say we do Emma by Jane Austen. I've read it a hundred times and I've already analysed it anyway so we just have to put it onto the presentation." Dave agreed and we planned out our presentation for the rest of the class.
When the bell rang, I gathered all my things and exited the classroom to go home. When I was a few steps out of the classroom, I heard someone call my name. It was Dave.
"I-I thought you could have my number, so that we can arrange to meet at each other's houses to work on the project. O-or we could work on it at the library. Whatever y-you're comfortable with." My heart could practically explode. Not only was he giving me his number, he was also possibly inviting over to his house!
"Yeah that'd be great." I gave him a bright smile. "We could go back to my house now? So that we can get the project over and done with, I hate having things that aren't finished yet."
"R-right now?" His cheeks flush a light pink. His eyes dart from my eyes to everything else around us.
"Yeah, you don't have to come over if you don't want to I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Fuck, I already feel like I'm screwing it up with him.
"N-no it's fine, I just didn't think you'd want me there. But yeah, let's go now." Inside, I was practically exploding. I have never felt such happiness until now. I fucking love Ms. Somerset!
We began walking out the school when my friends saw me walking with Dave. I saw them whispering and giggling to each other.
"Hey Y/N! What are you doing with him?" I felt anger run through me, why the fuck are they taking the piss out of him?
"We have a project we need to do so he's coming over to my house after school." I fake smiled at them and as soon as I turned away from them I had a disgusted look on my face. "Sorry about them Dave."
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As we came into my house, my dad immediately came into the hall and gave me a hug. He then turned to Dave and sized him up. I could see Dave squirming so I broke the silence.
"Dad, this is Dave. We're doing a project together in English." My dad narrowed his eyes at Dave and then his eyes widened with realisation and went to shake Dave's hand.
"So you're the Dave my princess talks about all the time!" I wanted the ground to swallow me whole and get the hell away from here. I've never wanted to be thrown into space in my whole entire life.
Dave looked at me in confusion and saw my uncomfortable demeanor.
"Right we're going upstairs, love you." I then dragged myself upstairs, Dave following close behind me and I led him to my room.
I sat myself at my desk and watched Dave as he looked around my room. I had vinyl records stuck to the wall along with different posters and tapestries. Fairy lights lined the frame of my bed. I also had a little table with a record player and a shelf specifically for my favourite records.
"Your room is really nice Y/N. I like your posters and lights." I looked around my room, I never actually took notice of it in all honesty.
"Thank you. I decorated it myself, I even designed the layout of my room when my dad helped build this place." Dave looked fascinated. I don't even know why.
"That's so cool, you got to choose how your room was shaped and everything?" It was cute how he was so excited about something as little as room design.
"Yeah, plus my room is the biggest in the house. My dad let me have it cause he said he's barely going to be in his anyways cause he's working all the time. Surprised he's actually home right now." Dave smiled at me and looked around my room before we silently began our project.
I couldn't believe that Dave fucking Lizewski was in my room! I've liked him ever since I first saw him when I moved here in Sophomore year. As he was doing his work, I couldn't help but stare. He was so beautiful. The way his curls fell on his face, the way he slightly stuck out his tongue when he was concentrating on reading something. I was so lost in staring at him I didn't even realise that he was calling my name.
"Y/N!" I shook my head to get myself out of the trance I was in, he caught me fucking staring. Great.
"Yeah?" He smiled as he shook his head at me, not in a misdemeaning way though, in a "I find it kinda cute" way.
"What exactly are we analysing from Emma?" I went to sit down next to him on my bed and read what he was reading.
"I think we should analyse how Jane Austen represents class types within all the characters and how they act towards each other." I then looked to Dave who was already looking at me.
"Your eyes are really pretty..." Why the fuck did I just say that? Out of everything to come out of my mouth that is what I say? Dave's face turns a bright shade of red.
"Th-thank you, I really like your hair..." I had purple streaks in my hair. My dad screamed at me when he saw, but he then found them actually pretty.
"Thank you, when I first dyed it my dad went ballistic. Eventually he warmed up to them." Dave smiled at me, in a way I couldn't decipher.
"Do you like me?... Y/N?" Those words make my heart stop. Fuck. He's realised. He probably found out about me switching classes just to be with him, me staring at him all the time, my friends call it an obsession.
"Where did that come from?" I chuckle, trying to play it off.
"I've heard your friends talk about it, Todd told me today that you were staring at me. So I thought I'd ask you." This was actually quite bold of him, he always just stuck to either being quiet or just talking quietly with Todd and Marty.
"You find me weird don't you?" I leaned away from him, I didn't want him to look at me. Before right now, that was all I had hoped for and now it's the last thing I want.
"No, not at all actually. I find it cute. At first I was worried you wanted to kill me or something but when I saw your face light up when Ms. Somerset paired us up I had a feeling it wasn't because you wanted to kill me." Dave chuckled slightly, he smiled with only one side of his mouth and he looked so cute doing it.
"I thought I could actually hide it, guess I can't. I do like you Dave, and I know you have a crush on Katie so it's fine we can just pretend this never-" Dave cut me off by pressing his lips against mine. At first I was completely shocked but then I kissed him back. Oh my god I'm kissing Dave Lizewski!
I cupped his cheeks and pulled him on top of me and his hand found place on my waist. He didn't kiss me roughly like a couple guys have done before. He was gentle, more caring than lustful.
We both then pulled away and Dave had a big goofy smile, he was adorable.
"I don't like Katie, I mean I used to. But that was until I started seeing you sit next to our table at lunch and see you walk down the hallways with your friends..." A billion fireworks were going off in my head. I have never been happier.
"W-would you wanna go out on a date with me?" Oh my god, he wants to go out on a date with me!
"I would love to." I had a massive grin on my face. My dreams had come true.
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bosbas · 9 months ago
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Chapter 4: all they keep asking me is if I'm gonna be your bride
series masterlist previous part || next part
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pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.2k words
Warnings: period-typical gender roles, a small part of the dialogue is in French, Colin in his feels asf
Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?
A/N: EEEEEP the plot is finally plottingggggggg
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May 19, 1816 – By now, it’s fairly obvious that the esteemed Mr. Colin Bridergton and Lady Y/N Montclair have, to put it lightly, an intense dislike for one another. How this contention began, this author does not know. However, Lady Montclair has yet to dance with Mr. Colin Bridgerton at any ball this season, despite dancing with Benedict and even older brother Anthony Bridgerton. This, coupled with the endless glares between the two and Lady Montclair’s perpetual frown around Mr. Bridgerton, indicates a less-than-friendly relationship. 
Luckily, this rivalry is not of any particular consequence to our heroine, since Lord Arthur Barlow seems on the cusp of a proposal. After a month-long courtship, it could be mere days before the Duke asks Lord Philippe Montclair for Lady Montclair’s hand in marriage. Although certainly a controversial choice from her parents to delay Y/N’s season, the wait would certainly pay off if she marries a Duke. This union, with the Duke of Monmouth’s title and the Montclair family’s extensive land ownership, would be one of the most advantageous Mayfair has seen since Charlotte Bexley, who just so happens to be Y/N’s sister, and her union to the Duke of Somerset. Shall we expect a public announcement soon? This author is certain that both families are itching for official confirmation.
Benedict thanked the bartender, sipping his brandy as he looked around at the gentlemen around him. Though Benedict and Colin had come to White’s together, the younger Bridgerton had gotten caught up in conversation with Lord Fife, leaving Benedict alone and slightly bored.
However, Louis Montclair’s appearance quickly piqued Benedict’s interest. It was the first time Benedict had seen Louis at the gentleman’s club, and he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to find out more about your unusual relationship with Colin. It was no secret that you and Colin couldn’t stand one another, but Benedict was far too absent at social functions to piece together what had happened by himself, and he thought Louis would be the perfect person to provide some clarity.
“Louis! I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of speaking properly,” Benedict clapped him on the back as he approached him. 
Louis turned around, grinning once he saw the Bridgerton. 
“Ah, Benedict, of course. Every time my mother successfully forces me to attend a ball, you seem to be absent! One would think you’ve been avoiding me,” he said jovially.
Benedict laughed and shook his head. “Since my painting was placed in the national gallery, Mother hasn’t been too insistent on my appearance at social functions,” he explained. Then, with a cheeky smile, he added, “I believe the rivalry between our families starts and ends with Colin and Y/N.”
Louis rolled his eyes, annoyed at the reminder of your hatred toward Colin. “Lord knows what the two have against each other. Even just thinking about having to listen to my sister complain about Colin after tomorrow’s ball is giving me a headache.”
“Then a drink is in order, to be sure!” Benedict called over the bartender and asked for another glass of brandy for your brother. “Though I wouldn’t fret too much about your sister; I’m certain Colin must have done something unforgivable to elicit such a response,” he said, only half joking.
“Well, I’m sure he has. I do not doubt that,” responded Louis, grabbing his drink and thanking the bartender. 
“Oh?” prompted Benedict, surprised by Louis’ affirmative response. He led your brother to a table in the back corner, sitting down across from him. 
Taking a sip, Louis explained, “My sister might be the most irritating person I know, but she rarely holds anyone in her bad graces unless she has a good reason.”
Benedict just stared at your brother, eyebrows raised and waiting for further explanation. Had Colin acted out of line with you? He was supposed to be the sweetheart of London high society, but perhaps his brother had changed during his travels. 
Louis paused, frowned thoughtfully, and continued. “Oddly enough, I haven’t a clue why she dislikes Colin. Usually, one cannot possibly get her to stop talking about why someone vexes her, but she has evaded speaking about the subject directly thus far.” 
Spotting Colin walking toward the pair, Louis quickly stood up to greet the younger Bridgerton.
“Colin! Speak of the devil and he shall appear.”
“The devil? Your sister hasn’t rubbed off on you, I hope,” answered Colin, not entirely amused as he shook your brother’s hand and sat down next to Benedict. 
“Not at all, Bridgerton,” Louis laughed, dissipating the tension easily. “And I hope your hatred toward her is not extended toward me, too.” 
“Is it that obvious?” asked Colin, slightly cringing that his ungentlemanly behavior was public knowledge. 
Benedict snorted. “It is now that Lady Whistledown has reported on it. I don’t know how you could have possibly been so rude as to end up as the subject of the ton’s gossip sheet, but I fear for you once Mother gets her hands on today’s column.”
Colin sank in his seat in shame, embarrassed that his perfect reputation was crumbling because of you, of all people. He was supposed to be charming and easygoing, and he feared what would become of him if people started to dislike his character. 
On the other hand, your little rivalry with him would barely have any effect on you. You were strikingly beautiful and exceptionally smart, not to mention exceedingly worldly. And even if you didn’t have all those things in your favor, your dowry was large enough that any man would be stupid not to at least consider you for marriage. 
“Not to worry,” assured Louis. “I am sure your rivalry will be coming to a close sooner rather than later. It’s only a matter of time before Barlow proposes and she’ll be out of your hair. And mine.” 
Colin tensed. “Pardon?”
“Y/N is about three seconds away from being married off, so she won’t have nearly as much time to dedicate to your rivalry,” explained Louis. 
“Oh,” Colin cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Why do you say that? Has she said anything?”
Benedict set his drink down, shooting Colin a curious look. “She probably hasn’t had to. They’ve been courting for a month. If anything, it would be out of the ordinary if he didn’t propose.”
Louis nodded in agreement, blissfully oblivious to Colin’s mounting panic. 
“Well, I suppose that makes sense,” conceded Colin. “I just thought–”
He paused. After a beat, he shook his head. “But, really? Marriage? It seems so sudden,” Colin said, stumbling over his words, a growing panic in his voice slowly turning to inexplicable anger.
 “I don’t know if I would use the word sudden… Why? Did you want to marry her?” teased Louis, laughing at what seemed to be an outlandish suggestion. Then, spotting his brother-in-law, Edward Bexley, by the door, he downed his drink and stood up. “A pleasure speaking with you gentlemen, but I must greet Bexley.”
The Bridgerton boys said goodbye, but before Colin had the chance to get away, Benedict turned to his brother accusingly.
“I know Louis was joking, but do you actually want to marry her?” he asked, concerned. “You’ve been acting all out of sorts.”
“What? No,” scoffed Colin. “Not in a million years.” Then, realizing he had to explain his outrage at the prospect of you getting married, he added, “I’m just surprised anyone would consider marrying her, is all.”
“Colin,” scolded Benedict. “Have some decorum. Even if that were true, you are still a Bridgerton. Please behave like one.”
Colin’s face turned hot in shame. “You’re right; I apologize. I think I need some air,” he finally strangled out, standing up and practically sprinting toward the courtyard, his practically full drink long forgotten.
Once Colin felt the fresh air on his face, he let out a deep sigh and unclenched his fists. You getting married was supposed to be a good thing. The only person in the ton who didn’t like him would finally be gone and he could return to being the best-liked among his siblings. 
It wasn’t like he didn’t know you would end up marrying someone else. It was basically the only reason you had come to England. Besides, he saw you with Arthur at every event you attended. Why was he so upset now? Why was he surprised at all?
Rubbing his temples, Colin started pacing in the courtyard. It must have been lingering resentment toward you, he reasoned. There was no other explanation. Colin couldn’t shake the way you and the duke so easily fell into flirtatious banter while he received only cold stares and snippy comments. It was infuriating that you took Lord Barlow and his intent to marry you so seriously while you barely spared Colin a second glance when he asked you to dance for the first time.
He still remembered watching you in Hyde Park the first time you spoke with Arthur, all giggly and flirtatious while you promenaded. Exactly the opposite of how you had been with him. What would it have taken for you to look at Colin with even a fraction of the fondness with which you looked at Lord Barlow?
Then, Colin was struck by a sobering thought. Perhaps you knew that, deep down, he lacked any substance. Perhaps you were not fooled by his charismatic front and could see that he could offer you nothing. 
As a third son, Colin could scarcely boast the same riches or claim to land as the duke. But he could have loved you. And he would have taken care of you. If only he had made more of an effort with you, he chastised himself. Then he might find himself in the position of doing something of actual importance for the first time in his life.
But his need for approval had gotten in the way. And what good that had done him. You were about to get everything you wanted and marry a duke, and he was left with nothing but a bruised ego.
---
As soon as Charlotte saw Colin entering the ballroom she sighed and rolled her eyes. Now that she was the oldest Montclair sibling left in England, she was in charge of making sure you and Colin didn’t make a scene at every single event you attended. 
Usually, it was Louis who needed scolding, mischievous as he was. Charlotte had no idea why you decided to be the difficult one this season. All she knew was that Colin had the unique ability to work you up until you were engaged in a yelling match, and it was her job to mitigate this to the best of her abilities. 
Charlotte, already facing you, leaned in close to your ear. “Sois gentille, s’il te plaît. T’es une dame es tu dois te comporter comme telle,” she murmured (Be nice, please. You're a lady, and you should act like one).
Immediately realizing that Colin had arrived, you crossed your arms. “Mais Charlotte, il est trop désagréable. Il me soûle tellement !” you whined softly (But Charlotte, he’s so unpleasant. He gets on my nerves so much!).
Charlotte scoffed in disbelief at your childish demeanor. “Et toi ? Tu penses que t’es plus agréable ? Vraiment ?” (And you? You think you’re more pleasant? Really?)
You knew she had a point, but you couldn’t help the annoyed huff that escaped your lips before you turned around, choosing to face the dance floor instead. 
Violet Bridgerton was hosting a ball tonight, and it seemed like every member of the ton had made an appearance. Your mother had nearly killed you when you told her you had a throbbing headache, not accepting any excuses for missing the most important ball of the season. 
Eventually, you compromised and promised to stay for a dance with Lord Barlow and a quick greeting to the Bridgertons. You were already eyeing the exit longingly, itching to retreat to your blissfully dark and quiet room. Just a quick turn around the ballroom and you would be free, you lamented. 
Your stomach churned with a mixture of anticipation and dread as you thought of seeing Lord Barlow. While the prospect of a proposal from him should have filled you with excitement, a throbbing headache dampened your spirits and left you feeling less than enthusiastic about the impending moment. 
A proposal from a titled gentleman was what you had been working toward your whole life, and you would have liked to feel well for it. Though you liked Arthur, and the two of you got along well, you could only hope that he wasn’t planning on proposing tonight. 
You heard footsteps coming in your direction, and you turned to see Eloise, Benedict, and Colin walking over to you and your sister. 
“Y/N! And Charlotte!” Eloise exclaimed loudly upon seeing you. 
You grimaced; the pain caused by her voice overpowering the joy you felt upon seeing her. 
“Hello Eloise!" your sister greeted warmly. "Y/N has a headache, so she's only staying for a short while," she explained.
“Hello, El,” you grinned, rubbing your temples with one hand and squeezing Eloise’s arm with the other. 
“And Benedict, what a surprise!” you exclaimed, turning to greet the older Bridgerton. 
“Y/N! A good surprise, I hope. It has been quite some time, hasn’t it?” responded Benedict, smiling at you and squeezing your arm.
Your gaze shifted to Colin, who was standing next to his brother, and you tensed, already dreading the argument–or four–you would inevitably have with him tonight. You barely had the energy to stand straight tonight; you couldn’t fathom having to hold your own against Colin Bridgerton.
Eloise, sensing the mounting hostility, sighed deeply. “It’s best to leave them to it for a bit and let them get it out of their system,” she said, guiding Charlotte and Benedict away from you. 
Before Charlotte turned around, she looked back at you suspiciously. She decided you were already suffering enough from your headache and chose to leave you be, but not before raising her eyebrows at you in warning.
Clearing his throat, Colin nodded in your direction, “Lady Montclair.”
“Mr. Bridgerton,” you nodded back, much too tired to throw the first verbal punch of the night.
But as always, Colin seemed to have the unending desire to vex you. Seeing the Duke walking up to you from across the room and feeling the anger rise in his chest, he looked you up and down, searching for anything to lash out about. 
“Lovely necklace you’re wearing. It completely washes out the color of your eyes,” he commented quietly, careful that no one else would hear. 
Colin preferred to keep your quarrels private, especially after he knew Lady Whistledown had taken note of the tension between you. It wasn’t even that he didn’t want the rest of the ton knowing that you didn’t like him – it was too late for that, he reminded himself. These moments between you, although they often resulted in hurled insults and verbal attacks, felt oddly intimate to him. Despite the animosity, they were your private interludes, and he didn’t want to share them with anyone else.
You, oblivious to Lord Barlow, or anyone else for that matter, clutched your necklace, slightly embarrassed that he had noticed. It was true: the jewels did not match your eyes, and the neckpiece was so flashy that you wouldn’t have been surprised if it was making your headache worse. But your mother had insisted you wear it tonight anyway.
“I’m surprised you can look up from my neck long enough to notice the necklace’s effect on my eyes,” you countered.
Colin turned slightly red, clasping his hands in front of him. He was surprised too, to be honest. But you didn’t need to know that.
Before Colin could respond, the Duke walked up to you to greet you by placing a hand on your arm. 
“Good evening, Y/N." 
“Good evening, Arthur,” you smiled at him, headache momentarily forgotten.
Colin balked. You were on a first-name basis with the Duke already? He felt utterly foolish for not realizing that you were, as Lady Whistledown had said, only days away from receiving a proposal.
“I see you’re wearing the necklace I got you,” Lord Barlow commented, pleased. “It does wonders for your complexion.”
“Oh, yes,” you said weakly. “My sincerest gratitude for the gift.” 
You could practically feel Colin smirking next to you, and you bit your lip to keep from snapping at him. You felt an unpleasant mixture of anger at Colin’s triumph and embarrassment that he knew that the unflattering necklace had been a gift from your suitor.
Lord Barlow brushed off your thanks. “A dance, my Lady?” he offered his hand.
“I’d be delighted,” you said gratefully, placing your hand in his. Anything to get away from Colin right now. 
You had danced with Arthur enough times that you were comfortable with him, and you found yourself enjoying moving to the music as Lord Barlow held you close.
As he spun you around, he leaned down close to your ear, causing your skin to erupt in goosebumps.
“You look particularly fetching tonight, Y/N. Perhaps we might retreat to the gardens later tonight to speak some more,” he whispered.
Your eyes widened. Was he asking you to go outside for… unladylike reasons? Or was he implying he was going to propose? Perhaps both? Whatever the reason, tonight was not the night.
“I’m afraid not, Arthur,” you lamented. “I’ve got a splitting headache and will be heading home soon after our dance.” 
 “Very well,” he said with a clipped tone, leading you away from the dance floor now that the music had stopped. “Another time, then.”
“Certainly,” you replied, nervous that you had upset him.
Kissing the back of your hand dutifully, he smiled. “I hope tomorrow you will be in better spirits. I will be at the races, and it would be a shame not to see you there.”
Before you could respond, he had turned around and disappeared into the crowd.  
Exactly twenty minutes later, Colin watched as you said goodbye to his mother, hugging her tightly. He felt his heart clench. You really were the picture of grace when you weren’t around him. But it was far too late to dwell on that. 
He turned around to leave the ballroom in search of a strong drink as soon as he saw you leave through the main entrance. Now that you were gone, he saw no reason to stay. He didn’t particularly enjoy balls, even if this one was being hosted in his home, and he knew he would only grow bored now that you weren’t present to trade insults with.
Ever the dutiful son, Colin walked up to Violet Bridgerton to excuse himself before he left.
“Leaving so soon? I thought you might be more likely to stay now that Y/N is gone,” she teased. 
Colin laughed and shook his head. “I'm afraid not.”
“It’s a shame you don’t care for her,” she tsked. 
Eyes widening, Colin cleared his throat and tried to seem casual. “Why do you say that?” 
Had you said something just now? Were you having second thoughts about the Duke?
“Because I’d love to have the Montclairs as part of the family, of course. Unfortunately, Y/N is as good as married. Perhaps we can try again with Louis,” she mused. “Eloise is bound to come around to marriage at some point.”
Colin laughed weakly, not trusting himself to say anything, and gave his mother one last squeeze as he headed out to the hallway.
Finally out of the ballroom, Colin headed to the Bridgertons’ private courtyard so he could gaze at the stars, a habit he developed during his travels to guide him through rough waters that he couldn’t seem to shake even now that he was home. 
He could have taken a more direct route, but he wanted to avoid any mingling party-goers, already exhausted from the night. Colin was quite enjoying the feeling of navigating through his familiar home, realizing that he hadn't spent more than a few months in England in years.
Finally, after a few minutes of solitude, he reached the door farthest from the ballroom that led to the courtyard,
However, when he was halfway to the exit, he spotted two figures there already, partially obscured by the curtain in front of the door. He could barely make out two voices and a very flirtatious giggle. Rolling his eyes, Colin started backing away, not wanting to interrupt what he assumed to be Benedict and some very unlucky lady having an intimate moment. 
It was certainly a bold choice on Benedict’s part. The courtyard was not so private that it was hidden away from view completely, and anyone in the ballroom could have seen them. But Colin was not in the business of getting involved in his brother’s affairs. 
As he turned away, Colin heard a muffled, “Ah, I see you like to play coy…”
Well, that was certainly not Benedict. In fact, it sounded quite a bit like…Arthur Barlow?
It couldn’t be, Colin shook his head aggressively. It couldn’t.
Colin felt anger rising in his chest, his lips turned down into a deep frown. He started back toward the courtyard.
Arthur was courting you. And he had just seen you go home. He couldn’t possibly be outside with someone else, could he?
Could he?
Upon hearing a squeal, Colin reached out and pulled back the curtains slightly, only to be met with the sight of the duke’s lips on Miss Barrington’s.
Colin dropped his hand in shock, letting the curtain obscure his view once again. He could barely believe what he was seeing. Your suitor was kissing another woman. Her hands were in his hair and he was tugging at the front of her dress, rushing to untie the bows on her gown.
Colin was frozen in shock. Is this something the duke did regularly? Did this mean that you and Lord Barlow kissed? An unpleasant image appeared in Colin’s mind, but he shook it away. He needed to focus on the problem at hand.
He had caught your almost-future-husband with someone else on the balcony, and you most likely had no clue. The duke’s actions had the potential to ruin multiple futures, and Colin felt his breathing quicken as he thought of how this could affect you.
Peeking through the window once more to ensure that he really was seeing the Duke and Miss Barrington, Colin frowned deeply. He shifted his gaze to the window looking into the ballroom across the courtyard, and was satisfied when he didn’t see anyone spying on the couple. At least there was that.
Rushing back through the twisting hallways, Colin ran to speak with his mother before anyone else could catch a glimpse of what was going on outside the Bridgerton home. 
Winded as he reached his mother, Colin grabbed her by the elbow and led her outside into the hallway. 
“Need… to… speak,” he panted out.
“Colin? What on earth–? I thought you had left the ball,” came Violet’s shocked response as she placed a concerned hand on her son’s shoulder. 
Colin nodded aggressively. “Lord Barlow… with Miss Barrington… on the balcony kissing,” he said, still trying to catch his breath.
“Oh!” Violet gasped, horrified. “Are you certain?”
Colin rolled his eyes. “Obviously, Mother. What do I do? Should I go stop them? I thought he was going to propose to Lady Montclair. But Miss Barrington will be ruined if anyone finds out.”
His mother thought for a moment. “Has anyone seen them yet?”
Colin shook his head. “I don’t believe so.”
“That is the best we can hope for in this situation. I will go and stop them at once; hopefully, no one will have noticed their absence,” indicated Violet, annoyed that people felt the need to act like this at her ball in her home.
“And what of Lady Montclair?” pressed Colin. Surely you were the most important person in this situation, no?
"We ought to inform her in private, let her decide her course," she suggested, her voice low with a hint of disdain. 
Colin frowned, frustrated that the duke’s careless actions could result in you losing a suitor. 
Violet continued, "There's no need to create a spectacle, after all. A scandal of a duke’s infidelity won't bode well for anyone involved. With any luck, it went unnoticed, and Y/N can deliberate in peace. I highly doubt Lord Barlow will be forthcoming with the truth." 
Just then, the Bridgertons heard the ballroom door slam open as a chorus of giggles and whispers filled the hallway.
Colin cast a wary glance towards the departing crowd. "I fear discretion is no longer an option."
The whispers seemed to echo, disturbingly audible.
"Lord Barlow? The Duke?"
"I had heard he was set on Lady Montclair..."
"Such a shame. They appeared quite suited. What will become of her now that she's lost a Duke? I couldn't bear the humiliation."
"And Miss Barrington?"
"It seems the Duke's actions have ruined more than one woman this evening…”
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jessieren · 11 days ago
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It’s almost the end of 2024 and so that means it’s time for an Evans retrospective...
And so I present to you the top Evans spotting moments of 2024:
Laos (and THAT blue linen shirt...)
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2. Exeter College
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3. UIKY teaser pics
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4. MAMA exhibition in Brixton (ok so we didn't spot him there but it was his photography on display - for possibly the first time in an exhibition(?) - and we got the Pink Tape 😂)
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5. Patti Smith concert at Somerset House
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6. Backstage with Endeavour friends at Three Men in a Boat
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7. HIA read through (aka THAT black t shirt... 🥵)
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8. HIA Rehearsal pics
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9. Opening Night (aka Hair-gate) and Press Night (the SCRUFF 🥵)
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10. HIA post show discussion
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11. HIA fan photos and encounters *sigh* (so. much. good. content) AND the live stream (thank you OTT)
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12. UIKY press screening and UK release
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13. Almeida Theatre rehearsed reading
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14. St Catz book launch
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15. MacMillan Follow The Stars
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Thankfully - after quite a drought - we got lots of great Evans content through the year and got to enjoy some amazing theatre, tv and personal encounter moments.
I'm forever grateful for the friendship, fun and laughter that we share on here - and that I got to meet Shaun this year, and that he was such a wonderful human being.
Roll on 2025...
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louisupdates · 6 months ago
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Louis Tomlinson Is Officially Embracing His Gray Hairs at 32 — and of Course Fans Are Swooning!
The singer leaned into his silver fox status while at Glastonbury Festival in England
By Hedy Phillips Published on July 1, 2024 05:32PM EDT
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Louis Tomlinson with his sister Lottie Tomlinson at Glastonbury Festival. PHOTO: LOTTIE TOMLINSON/INSTAGRAM
Louis Tomlinson is officially a silver fox.
The singer, 32, embraced his grays while at the Glastonbury Festival in Somerset England during the last weekend in June. Tomlinson's normally shaggy brunette hair had wisps of gray strands peeking through, mostly on the sides.
Tomlinson was at the festival with a group of friends and his sister, Lottie Tomlinson, and the "Silver Tongues" singer and his crew made waves for bringing a TV onto festival grounds to watch the England football club's UEFA match because there was nowhere else to watch it during the festival. Thanks to his bold decision, Tomlinson (and his grays) made it all over social media, onto the news (including the BBC!) and into headlines.
Tomlinson's fans have been quick to swoon over his status as a silver fox, praising him all over every social media platform.
One person captured a video of Tomlinson from one of the newscasts, adding little emojis to the gray hairs and wrote, "I will protect you louis’ gray hair, while another added, "Louis’ gray hair being one of the most talked about twitter discourse, with locals writing paragraphs to defend him was not on my bingo card. Atleast everyone is appreciating this silver-fox dilf."
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Tomlinson, who rose to fame as part of One Direction alongside Harry Styles, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne and Niall Horan, has slowly been embracing his gray hair over the past couple years as he's gotten older (and the quick-witted and sassy artist would probably have words for us for calling it out).
A few gray hairs have poked through all over his head from time to time, and fans have captured the evidence in plenty of photos that they've shared on social media (with fervor). While he hasn't yet gone fully gray, he's gone in and out of brown and gray phases — even with his facial hair.
One thing is for certain, his fans, are here for the grays. One fan put it very simply (also quoting one of Tomlinson's own tattoos): "let's just say I am a silver fox fan and will always be a silver fox fan. Love the gray hair. It is What it is!"
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