#the melody is so basic it must be

[softysofao3]

Hi!

So, I made a song..!

I've been working on this for a while and I'm absolutely terrified of sharing this with anyone (I don't sing in public), but I figured someone might like it?

The song is from Addison's POV, about her divorce with Derek and longing for Meredith. Lyrics are up on AO3 but I'll post them here as well:

You with her Before we fell apart we fell in love You took my hand and I took your heart With you I thought I was done But we didn’t realize we’d grow apart I love you and I know we were long gone before we broke but what kills me inside is that I didn’t leave with my head held high So now I watch you with her smiling, kissing, laughing I need to hold myself back forever ‘cause I owe you everything Being together was like being alone You were there but your eyes were vacant then I reached for the phone even though I knew I'd grow to regret it I hurt you and I hope I didn’t mean to but maybe I did I should have left before our clothes fell maybe then I’d still have some dignity? So now I watch you with her smiling, kissing, laughing I need to hold myself back forever ‘cause I owe you everything new loves and dances and panties in tuxes our signatures side by side Only if I had been stronger and better and not fallen with the wrong guy I could have said yes when she looked at me like I look at her And we’d be in love You’d be crushed but I don’t think I’d care ‘cause I’d be with her But now I watch her with you smiling, kissing, laughing What was I supposed to do since I owe you everything I’ll hold myself back forever I owe you everything

[shyvioletlife]

Knowing it is patently silly to wish on the current banner for a single piece of the outfit doesn’t make me stop lamenting. I know my luck will be bad and it will take the maximum 100 pulls to get it from the oceans blessing I know I don’t want almost anything else on the banner it would be a waste of all the pulls I have saved to get a full 5* outfit maybe next patch but damn

[bredforloyalty]

every time i remember ling tosite sigure exists it's like. wait one of my favorite bands ever and i simply don't listen to them for 6+ months at a time

[etherealrin]

♡.ᐟ sanrio rings!

how proplayer!rin accidentally reveals his relationship with you to the public

warnings: none // wc: 929

note: my first post ever, hi LOL. ooc rin perhaps? female reader (reffered to as rin's gf)

rin forgets he even has the plastic ring on. so when he gets interviewed post-match and the cameraman zooms in on his right hand, which currently grips the microphone, he's a little confused.

"mr. itoshi!" the reporter exclaims, "what an odd choice of jewelry! and on the ring finger too, are you perhaps engaged?"

what? engaged? rin plasters a frown on his face, ready to go off at the woman.

"i have no idea what y-" rin begins, but cuts himself off. oh shit, he thinks. of course, on his ring finger sat the stupid little kuromi ring he had gotten with you in shibuya last week. his mind races back to the memory, and he groans internally.

"rin, please! let's get matching ones!" you squealed as you dragged him towards the staggering rows of gachapons deep inside the city's neon lit streets. the whole shop was filled to the brim with machine after machine, and one in particular had caught your eye. it was one containing comically large rings of sanrio character faces, ranging from cinamoroll to my melody to kuromi.

"fine, if that's really what you want to spend 400 yen on," he had sighed. he knew you would somehow rope him into wearing the diabolical little accesory.

"i really hope we get my melody and kuromi! y'know it's basically canon that they like each other, right?" you told him, laughing.

"i hope you know i'm not familiar with any of the sanrio lore," rin began. "but- if it's with you, it's not so bad…i guess." the last part was barely audible. you pushed him toward the white machine, with a little "you first!"

to his fortune (or now his misfortune, he figured) he did indeed manage to obtain the black kuromi ring you had wanted him to wear. his attention then shifted to you. you were crouched down over the machine, and, wait…why were you performing a summoning ritual? you had pulled up my melody pictures on your phone and waved it around like a mystic.

"you're silly," rin deadpanned.

"but it'll work, watch this!" you shot back. the tips of your finger grasped the small wheel of the gacha machine and you turned it slowly. an opaque pink ball dropped out of the prize slot. "i did it! see?" you said smugly, giving rin a pointed look. "now you have to put yours on, so we match!"

rin sighed, but he slipped the ring onto his finger, choosing the exact same placement you had done for youself. the right ring finger?

"hey- you do know what this means right?" he asked you, a faint rose tinting his cheeks.

you giggled. "it's a promise! we're now engaged under the laws of sanrio!"

"so? what's the news?" the reporter inquires again. rin snaps back to the present, having temporarily forgotten he was in a post-match interview and on nationwide live television. oh, you must be watching too, he realizes. itoshi rin could only come up with one explanation now: the truth.

"i got it with my girlfriend the other day, she wanted to match," he says with all air of nonchalance that he can muster.

"girlfriend? mr. itoshi, you're in a relationship?" the reporter almost drops her microphone out of shock. rin feels his cheeks heat up, and he wants to smack himself for blushing on live television at the mention of you.

"yes. i have been in one for quite a while now," rin starts. "and she's the sweetest, most stunning girl in the entire universe. now if you're done asking me about my private life, do you have anything for the real game? or are we done here?"

"o-oh, yes…" the reporter babbles on about something he had done in the match and rin wraps up the interview at light speed, wanting to leave and to see you immediately.

when rin finally knocks on the door to your third floor apartment (and notices the glittery sanrio stickers plastered onto it) you open it almost instantly, with a finger pointing at his face.

"i saw your interview," you say, dragging him into your living room where he promptly sprawls out on the sofa, hiding his face in his hands. "i can't believe you forgot to take it off, it's been three days!" you laugh. "but…it was cute. really, thank you. i know how hard it must have been to tell the whole world about us,"

"it was worth it, for you," rin says softly. he's a bit embarrased now. yet he's running his fingers through your silky hair now, twisting and turning it, his lilting touch teasing your exposed shoulder and making you giggle as if being tickled. you notice the kuromi ring, still sitting on his ring finger as if it was the most rightful place for it to belong. he grabs your own right hand, lining your fingers side by side with his, grinning a little at the pink my melody on yours.

"hmmm, i love you too, rin" you reply to the boy. he pulls you closer and inhales deeply, breathing in your nectarine-like sweet perfume.

"you should come to my game next week in my jersey," he mentions suddenly. "i mean there's no point in going through the agony of having lukewarm people online trying to guess who my girl is, i want everyone to know its you." you can't help but smile up at rin. his azure eyes shine with something fragile and genuine, love. you give him a soft, small kiss, and he sighs contentedly.

"i'd love to," you promise.

a/n: if you've made it this far i luv u, this is inspired by the sanrio rings i got with my friend haha

masterlist!

[two-white-butterflies]

a lemon cake | daemon targaryen

Description: The Hendriks have always kept to their own. What happens when a betrothal happens between the only Hendrik daughter and the Rogue Prince? A story where, you go through lengths in order to ensure your lord husband's loyalty.

W.C: a lotta words super mega ultra

A/N: After re-watching Descendants. I figured that this would be a good plot. Reader basically gives Daemon a love potion. It wears off. He's still in love. No beta we die like men. OC Daemon because of the love potion, but otherwise still him.

House Hendrik. In silence we persevere.

When the first lord of your house settled from Old Valyria, they did not bring dragons or swords - but they did bring magic. Magic that allowed the members of the house to hear the whispers of nature. But lately, nature has only answered with silence.

The lands were barren, and the sheep were dying of illness.

The gold in your coffers were nearing extinction. Correction, there wasn't anything left - your father has to work in the King's council to ensure that you and your children would live a comfortable life.

A prolonged sigh escapes your mouth. You stared at yourself through the reflection on the mirror. In silence we persevere.

You remind yourself of the words your father uttered before he left.

"My lady," the maid clears her throat. She was holding a sealed letter. "Thank you," you mumble while taking the paper from her hands.

You force a smile on your face.

My dearest daughter,

I am pleased announce that the King has agreed to an engagement, and your presence in the Red Keep is of utmost importance. It seems like the Seven Gods have answered our prayers. Do not think about the gold that we'll use to bring you here, your Aunt Jayne has agreed to sponsor the trip, with the promise that you won't forget her once you are a nobleman's wife. Take care.

All my love,

your father.

You finished reading the letter, inhaling the scent of vanilla. It was sadly a short letter, not detailing anything about your father's stay. He made sure that the letter was short and concise. He did not even have money for ink.

"My lady?" the maid inquires, curious about the contents of the letter.

"Lord Hendrik has invited me to join him in the Red Keep." you inform, watching as she poured you a glass of tea. "- will you promise to take care of the household in my absence?" you asked, and she presses a kiss to your forehead.

She stood as your mother, after Lady Hendrik died.

"I promise." she swore. "- have fun in the Capital." she smiled.

You could only nod.

"You told me that he agreed on a betrothal!" your eyebrows merged together. "You wouldn't have come here if the only purpose was finding a suitable match." your father insists.

"Our house has stood proud, looked down on others with lesser breeding. If word ever comes out that I am here to save a sinking ship, our reputation will be ruined." you argued.

"If there was another choice, I wouldn't ask." he says regretfully, his eyes cloudy with tears threatening to spill out. "- my position in the King's council is under threat. My health has fallen drastically, and only a husband can save you and our house." he breathes.

He knows that it shouldn't be that way, but it is.

"What you mean to say is..." you could not stomach to say the word.

"- this is my last gamble, child. If you do not wish to do it for our family, at least do it for yourself." he pleads.

Stupid family with their idiotic gambles. You cursed while continuing to concoct the potion. There was a hundred other ladies in this court, some more beautiful - some having bigger breasts - some having more melodious voices. And what were you stuck with?

This old gown that you inherited from your mother.

You weren't dealt the winning hand, so you must play with the cards that you were dealt with.

"Kesā sagon ñuhon." you whispered into the powder, feeling chills run up your spine as the magic takes effect. You will be mine.

You press a finger to your lips. Who will be mine?

Of course, they needed to be rich. You were in poverty and eating love for breakfast wasn't something you're looking forward to.

And of course, they needed to be handsome - because it will be a curse to stare at an ugly face everyday.

"Prince Daemon," you say out loud.

You fancied him when you were younger.

He had flowing silver-gold hair, and entrancing deep purple eyes. He was every maiden's dream. All everyone saw was a dangerous man - a shifting tide. He was quick to anger and slow to forgive.

But that wasn't going to be a problem.

If your love potion was going to take its full effect, he'd be a tamed dragon, and you'd be the most beautiful maiden in his eyes. He'd be loyal to you no matter what you did.

The thought of taming an untamable man was...alluring.

"Prince Daemon it is, then." you decide. Carefully storing the powder in the empty space of your locket.

The plan needed to work.

Daemon's eyes narrowed, seeing Lord Hendrik's daughter walk across the garden. His eyes were drawn towards her figure. He's heard stories about your great beauty - and now he's finally had the luxury of meeting you. "Lady Hendrik," he calls your name.

"My prince," you bowed, surprised that he knows you. "- it is a pleasure to be be in your presence." your gaze remained on the floor.

"I believe that I am the one who should be saying that," he tilted his head with a pensive smile. His eyes alternated between your eyes and your lips, engrossing himself in your features. "- it is not everyday that a maiden from Quid Isle visits the Red Keep." he added, offering his arm for you to take.

"It is a long journey." you were quick to answer, holding his arm as you both strolled down the gardens. Your father's castle used to have a garden exactly like this - but all the flowers have wilted now. Its beauty was forced to remain in your memory.

"I can only imagine," he hummed - still staring at your face.

There was a look in his eyes, telling you that he was interested.

He kept staring at you and you found yourself staring at him in return, waiting until he opened his mouth again. "You're very beautiful." he observed, moving a strand of hair away from your face.

"T-thank you." you surprise yourself by stuttering.

Gods, you've always been eloquent but what you were about to do was making you nervous.

You turned to look at the table behind you, sprinkling the secret powder on one of the lemon cakes.

"Lemon cake?" you offered, holding the pastry up with a smile.

"Sure," he agreed, not bothering to take the pastry from your hands - instead taking a small bite while you were still holding it.

The way he licked his lips made shivers run down your spine. You were indeed making the right choice. "Is it good?" you raised an eyebrow, waiting for that grumble on your stomach that told you that the spell was working.

"They taste different today." he admits, chewing at the sweet treat - surprised at the slight specks of saltiness. It brought the sweet flavor out, but it was the first time he's tasted lemon cakes like this.

"Good or bad?" you inquired.

Your stomach grumbles. His pupils dilate.

"Good," he says.

The love potion has indeed worked. He's looking at you the same way that the moon looks at the sun. There was a smile on his face, a soft and gentle smile only given to those feeling pure love. "You should try one, my lady." he offers, and you nod - doing exactly that.

"Is the court to your satisfaction?" he asked, unable to stare at anything other than you. "It is beautiful, my lord, especially the gardens. I've never seen anything quite like it." you smiled.

He admires the innocence in your eyes.

Your smile makes him want to smile too.

"Our gardens pale in comparison to Highgarden. Mayhaps, one day I shall take you there." he made a promise. You are slightly taken aback by the potency of your love potion.

"Take me there?" you repeated his last words.

"If it is your will, my lady." his hands rubbed circles on the back of your waist. "It is unbecoming, especially from an unmarried maiden. I wish not to impose, my prince." your mind returned to marriage.

Our last gamble.

"Oh yes, unmarried." he reminded himself. He takes a step backwards, a wave of clarity crashing through his features. You worried for a second that the love potion lost its effect, if it weren't for the look in his eyes - utterly dedicated and in love.

"I must leave to attend my business with the Gold Cloaks. Do not stray too far in the gardens, I shall talk to you later." he vows.

"Yes, my prince." was the only thing that you could say.

Daemon was fascinated but now he was sure that he was in love. Ever since he spoke to you in the gardens - you're the only thing that he thinks about. When he drinks wine, he wonders about the types of wine that you like. When he reads a book, he thinks about what your favorite books are.

Even a chore a simple as breathing makes him think about you.

As the months occurred, he's spent every living second beside you. Braiding your hair, reading books about his ancestry. He's even taught you a few things about sword-fighting.

He's defenseless against your love.

There was no escape.

"I intend to marry the Lady Hendrik." Daemon boldly announces in front of his brother. He was a million times sure that you were the woman he wanted to spend his eternity with. "I beg your pardon?" Viserys gazes up from his miniature version of Old Valyria.

"You've been pestering me about marriage ever since that Bronze Bitch died. I've finally made my choice. Lady Hendrik, the Master of Coin's daughter." Daemon emphasized.

Viserys' eyebrows merged together.

"Have you spoken to her?" Viserys inquired, surprised at his brother's sudden enthusiasm towards you. "I have." Daemon responds.

"How many conversations have you had with her?" Viserys follows up, a little skeptical but otherwise relieved that his brother has found love. "It matters not, she is the best choice. She is set to inherit her father's island. It shall keep me out of your way." Daemon argues.

"Lady Royce inherited the Runestone. What makes you think that this lady of yours is going to be different than the last?" Viserys queries, poking through his brother's resolve - trying to look for holes. He does not wish to grant annulment or mend Daemon's losses when the time comes that he falls out of love.

"I will wed the Lady Hendrik. We will live in Quid Isle." Daemon ignores his brother's question. His destiny already written in stone.

"There isn't anything that could stop you anyways." Viserys agrees, finding no other reason to disagree.

"Speak to her father. Make sure that he agrees." Viserys adds, returning his attention to his little Old Valyria.

"Your father has agreed to an engagement between us." Daemon announced from behind you, and suddenly your eyes light up. "Really?" happiness was leaking from your voice.

Your happiness, gives him happiness.

"I thought that what we had was merely friendship. You've really proved yourself, my prince." you smiled, as he presses your foreheads together. Your smile sinks to the floor, that feeling of guilt threatening to make your heart explode.

He doesn't actually love you. It's the potion.

"Is everything alright?" he inquired, his eyes flooding with worry.

I'm a horrible person for making him something that he is not.

All the nobles and maesters have fawned over his loyalty to me. The way he stares at me with love and adoration. He's not spoken to any other maiden except me. He refuses to dance with anyone but me.

When he realizes that this is all an enchantment, will he hate me?

"Darling," he repeats that term of endearment.

You snap out of the trance.

"I need a moment." you break free from the embrace. Sprinting towards the direction of your room. "Sure," you hear him mumble.

Once the doors to your chambers were shut - the tears flowed. "I'm sorry," you mumbled while laying on your bed, covering your body with the layers of blanket and furs. "I'm sorry," you kept repeating.

I'm a horrible person.

You've toyed with the very will of the gods, made Prince Daemon fall in love with you and act uncharacteristically - all for what? So you wouldn't starve when all the gold in your father's coffers runs out? There were thousands of small-folks starving everyday, their lives are lost to famine - all the while you worry about not living in luxury.

It was another day for you in paradise.

Even if your father died, you'd still live a comfortable life - as long as you didn't live above your means.

You shouldn't have done that to Daemon.

And the worst part was, you loved him - loved him with your entire heart. He was a constellation to you. You've never loved anyone as deeply as you've loved him.

But you betrayed him!

Betrayed the man that offered you jewelry and pretty dresses. Betrayed the man that looks at you with warmth.

You sniffle, slowly rising above the pile of blankets on your bed.

You march to your vanity, beginning to concoct a potion that will reverse your love spell.

You needed to make things right.

Daemon stares at the small hidden lake. It was something that his ancestors consecrated to have a piece of Old Valyria. The lake had magical powers, some say that it cures disease, but to him - it was the only thing that could convince him that gods were real.

"Ever since I was a little boy, I'd stare at this pond and feel peace." he explains, placing his hands inside of the lake - allowing that mystical feeling to wash over him. "They say that it is a piece of Valyria." he continues telling you the story.

These past few days, you've been avoiding him like a plague. When he meets your eyes - he sees nothing but sadness. He wishes that taking a bath in this lake would bring peace to you, or mayhaps cure the sadness that you've been feelings - you refuse to tell him what.

"Thank you for bringing me here. Dragonstone is beautiful." you were quick to thank, but your eyes were focused on the ground.

"Why do you evade my gaze?" he inquires, holding your chin with a finger - and lifting it so you'd meet his eyes. "We are going to be husband and wife soon." he announces, and that makes you flinch.

"I know," you hum.

"If you're scared of living Quid Isle - I promise you that we'll live there after the wedding." he points out one of the possible reasons as to why you were sad. "- I am much prepared to eat fish and chickens until I die." he smiles, and that sparkle returns to your eyes.

"Get in the water." he commands with a chuckle. "No," you shake your head - feeling his hand on your shoulder - threatening to pull you down. "Daemon," you warned, holding onto his forearm.

An involuntary giggle escapes your mouth, and you both plunge into the cold lake. That grumble in your stomach returns. Magic?

You hold onto him, unable to reach the bottom of the lake floor. "You are a cruel lord," you teased wrapping your arms around him.

He takes a second longer - still staring at your face. With that same lovestruck impression as the day you first met.

"Daemon," you say his name.

"I love you." he says out of the blue, burying his face on your nape.

For a second, his voice sounds deeper - his words more meaningful than usual. It almost made you doubt yourself.

You were about to lose everything.

Today is the day that you give him the reverse potion.

"Lemon cake?" you offer, holding the pastry with a forced smile. Daemon's hands found the small of your waist. "I don't want one." he shakes his head, instead choosing to take a sip of his wine.

"Are you sure?" your eyebrows merged together.

Why was he refusing your effort?

"I don't really like eating pastries, my love." he covers his smile with another sip of wine. He's been looking at you with more adoration, lately. He's been more dutiful than before. Always opening the door for you, always carrying your books, and of course, helping with the planning of your wedding.

"But I seem to remember that our love story began with a lemon cake?" you try to persuade him. A lemon cake is also how it ends.

"I've not had the stomach for anything as of the late. I'm sorry, dearest." he tries to say no as politely as he could. "But you have to eat it, please, for me?" you resorted to begging.

"No," he responds as petulantly as he could muster.

"Daemon," you say firmly this time.

Don't make it harder than it has to be. Eat it and hate me forever.

"Give me one good reason?" he says. His voice telling you that he knew something that you didn't. "Because your future wife wills it." you insist, and he sighs - taking a bite of the lemon cake.

He eats it with a smile, watching your features carefully.

"Does it taste good?" you found yourself asking the same questions as before. "Yes," he responds - chewing softly. "How do you feel?" you inquired, worried about his wellbeing.

"Why are you asking, little flower?" his grip is firm on your waist, ignoring the looks that you were both getting. It was a behavior unbecoming of unmarried people, even if you were engaged.

"Nothing," you shake your head. "Do you still love me?" you found yourself carefully asking, masking it with sweetness just in case the potion wasn't in full effect yet. "I think that the potion takes a while to settle, my lady." he smiles, saying those string of words in a whisper.

You nod your head involuntarily until his words sink in.

The potion takes a while to settle.

"What?" your voice suddenly turns an octave higher.

"You are adorable." he muses, laughing.

"How long have you known?" the words spill out of your mouth. "It wore off when we swam in the lake of Dragonstone." he explains.

"So you've been pretending to love me these past few days?" you ask, guilt eating you whole. "I've not been pretending." he confirms.

"I'm sorry, I didn't have a choice. Our family isn't as rich as we appear to be, I-my father... I mean I thought that marrying you was the only way my family would be secure. But I love you and my conscience will not allow you to live in lie." you apologized, the tears pooling.

"Hate me if you want to. Have me executed for treason if you must..." you rambled but he silences you with a finger to your lips.

"You didn't need that spell." he says tenderly. His eyes still held that warmth, the promise to love you for more than a lifetime.

"I was enamored with you even without it." he chuckles, wiping the tears away from your eyes. "What?" you were confused. "- you need not to go through with the wedding." you add.

"But I wish to marry you, my lady." he takes the upper hand.

Oh, he's been long aware of your house's financial problems - it was one of the few reasons that Viserys chose your father as Master of Coin. He couldn't bare to see a friend of his suffering. And Daemon, well he's been drawn to you since you first stepped inside the castle.

You were magnetic and you made good company.

"Adorable," he hummed - pulling your face closer to his and silencing you with a deep and long kiss.

[mimikyuno]

i was listening to imprisoned xii and it makes me ache and feel so sick fr my heart is broken 😭 uika put all her most intimate, unspeakable, forbidden feelings in those lyrics and she was about to delete them when nyamu quite literally outed her to the rest of the band by sending them. when she and nyamu went to sakiko’s place and nyamu told saki those lyrics are about her, uika looked away, and the only thing she could tell sakiko when they were left alone was “please don’t hate me.” and then sakiko went and reformed the band basically using wedding vows to tie the 5 of them together and wrote such a heart wrenching melody for uika’s lyrics so uika finally feels happy and accepted by the one she loves the most. who has ignored her for months and abandoned her with not so much as a small note she left on her kitchen table. she read her lyrics and understood her. bc that’s why she reformed the band and gave music to her feelings of desperate love and possession, right?? saki must have seen all that uika considers ugly, unsightly, sinful, shameful, and has accepted it all with love. so now of course uika feels like she can tell saki out loud “i’ll give my life to you” and “please move back in with me”. and she has no idea that saki has not accepted her out of love, but out of obligation and regret and guilt. she was the one who asked the other members to give her their lives and then gave up when mutsumi went dormant. she asked uika for her life knowing that uika loves her. she has ignored her for months. and she’s in pain. and nyamu is calling her out and umiri wants to reform and mutsumi is gone again and mortis wants ave mujica. what choice does saki have? she looks at tomori’s heartfelt messages on the post its she saved. and then writes lyrics for uika’s song. she looks at crychic with love and fondness, and at ave mujica and uika with what i’d say almost looks like resentment. she’s dead inside. life keeps being so cruel to her. she just keeps on losing everything, and her forming ave mujica has ultimately ended in more suffering for everyone. she feels guilty about mutsumi and mortis, about nyamu, about umiri, and about uika. she’s just a rich girl playing band and making messes for her abusive and controlling family to clean up, while her father succumbs to alcohol away from her. sakiko has given up on happiness. and she knows exactly what uika meant in those lyrics. and she recognises her responsibility, and feels chained, guilty. during the performance, uika looks to her hoping that sakiko will gaze back at her and acknowledge her. she does not. only looking at her with a furrowed brow when uika is not looking. i feel so sick. this is the evilest miscommunication. i feel for uika so much. she was forced to show her most intimate and vulnerable self whom she hates and hides in shame, just to be given the hope that she was fully and wholly accepted by the one for who these feelings run so deep. when that is not the case, not really.

[iheartmira]

Good day/night! If the request are still open, may I request something about your last fic of Shadow milk "Sweet words" ?

Basically Y/n with the same accent but this time they're singing like a whisper so not him or nobody could hear them

But Shadow milk was listening without Y/n noticing

Thank you so much! ★

"sweet melodies" - shadow milk cookie x reader

✧︎‬‪‪ ‪‪✧︎‬ ‪‪✧︎

shadow milk cookie wasn’t looking for you. not this time.

for once, he had no grand scheme, no elaborate trick to set into motion. he had simply been drifting through the spire of deceit, trailing his hands along the twisting walls, letting the shadows shift and coil in his wake. it was boredom, he told himself, just boredom that led him to your door.

and then he heard it.

soft. fragile. a breath of melody so delicate into the air that it almost slipped past him.

he stilled.

you were singing.

oh. ohhh.

his grip on his staff tightened, his fingers curling against its surface. a slow, wicked grin stretched across his lips as he pressed himself against the cold frame of the door, tilting his head just enough to drink in every note.

it was mesmerizing. you were mesmerizing.

that accent of yours, already so intoxicating, became something otherworldly in song. every syllable was dipped in honey, laced with a weight that sent shivers crawling down his spine. it was a sound that shouldn’t exist, something too lovely, too pure, too-

he swallowed hard, ignoring the way his heart clenched. no, no, he was the trickster here. the one who watched and laughed and spread chaos across the world. and yet…

here he was. entranced.

you had no idea he was listening. you must have thought yourself alone, unaware that every whispered note sank into his very soul, branding itself into him like an unforgiving flame.

he was utterly, hopelessly enthralled.

and then... your voice cut off. a moment of silence. then...

"…shadow milk cookie?"

ah. you had noticed.

for once in his long, long life, he was at a loss for words.

your eyes met his, wide with dawning horror, while his lips quirked into something smug, but... oh, his face were burning, wasn't it? his pupils had dilated, and he felt warm, too warm...

but he refused to let you see how much he had unraveled. so he did what he did best.

laughter spilled from his lips, his usual mockery, as he pushed off the wall with a slow clap. "well, well! what do we have here?" his grin was sharp, but his voice was breathless, still clinging to the remnants of your song.

"a performance so divine, and i wasn't even invited? truly, i am wounded!"

your face burned. you sputtered something that only made his grin stretch wider because, oh, there it was again, that accent. he leaned in, impossibly close, eyes glinting with something far too indulgent.

"you really should sing louder, my dear. why keep such a delightful little secret all to yourself?"

his voice dipped, teasing, knowing. "unless, of course… you were hoping i’d hear?~"

you shoved him away, flustered beyond reason, and fled before he could say another word.

but oh, it was too late. the melody was seared into his mind, looping, echoing, haunting him in the most delicious way.

and he would never let you live it down.

‪‪✧︎‬‪‪ ‪‪✧︎‬ ‪‪✧

‹𝟹 ‎ ⠀⠀ˑ˚₊ ·⠀interested in requesting? check out my pinned!

© 2025, iheartmira

[banquetwriter]

Johnnie xfem reader whos being really whiney and loud during sex. like he has to cover her mouth with his hand but he finds it really cute and hot at the same time

୨୧ proud ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ smut with tiny plot, hand over mouth, being loud, hooking up at a party

summary: ʚ your just so loud and it inflates Johnnie ego ʚ

Words: 1172

An: I'm back on my writing and i hope this lives up to your expectations :((

It's no secret thing that Johnnie isn't the most confident person alive. But god whenever he is with you feels like he must be the best person to walk this earth. Your constant praise of him. Your encouraging words regarding his music career sounded better to him than any Melody he could come up with.

But one thing, in particular, made him feel like he was on top of the world, that one thing was fucking you. Johnnie ALWAYS jokes about not getting bitches or being scared of women but in reality he was a sweet and funny guy.

And you fell hard and fast for him. It also helped that he was one of the hottest people you had ever seen. So finally a little into your situation you took it to the next level. Both were nervous and excited beyond words.

Johnnie's hands slowly started to make their way down your clothes body as his lips never left yours. When he puts his delicate hand on you at first you let out a mini gasp. He initially retracted his hand but you instantly put it back on you. He thought maybe his hand was too cold or something but he pressed on.

His hand slowly slid down as you pulled away slightly, you held up your head indicating he should continue on the delicate skin of your neck. He took a shaky breath in.

As embarrassing as it was, it had been a little while since he had done this. He tried to push those insecure muddled thoughts out of his head as he dipped down. As soon as he touched your skin with his lips you gasped again.

You had become so sensitive, your skin red hot but with goose bumps littering your skin. He joined his other hand on your body delicately rubbing up and down. He was basically on top of you.

And any insecure thought Johnnie was thinking at this moment was not necessary as you were so turned on you felt primal. Letting every small whine and gasp as Johnnie got more confident sucking, kissing, and nipping at your skin.

You decided that you simply couldn't wait anymore and you gently pushed him away, he cocked his head in confusion, worried he messed up somehow.

Oh, it was so the opposite. You sat up starting to undo your top and bra. “Take off your shirt,” you whispered breathlessly. He barely had time to nod before ripping the buttons off of his own garment. You discarded the fabric with ease as your bodies collided once more.

His cold necklaces mixed with your hot skin right between your breasts. It was a devilish feeling causing you to mewl out. Johnnie had been surprised at how much noise you were making and he hadn't even done much.

He chose not to think too hard about it and started to slide his hands up and down your bare torso, pointedly avoiding your breasts and teasing you. You whined as his thumb barely scraped the bottom of your breasts.

“You like that? I think that's the most noise I've heard you make tonight,” he said a lick of condescension in his tone. “Shut up and fuck me,” you begged, and suddenly all confidence in Johnnie's body left, and he froze.

He stared into your eyes trying to figure out if this was real or not. “Johnnie. I need you,” you whispered this time, slowly lifting your head up to meet his. His breath increased and in the second he was on you he was off.

Shimmed down the bed of this random house at this random party. He pulled his pants off at lightning speed. You fumbled with your bottoms but Johnnie was waiting no time with a request like yours. He bent down to grab hold of yours and the borderline ripped them off in a stroke of luck.

Neither Johnnie nor you acknowledge how he Hulked your clothes off of you but instead, he spread your legs apart and eagerly traced the inside of your thighs and just outside the place you needed it most. “Mm fuck please,” you begged as his boney finger traced upwards.

He took that as a sign to start. He bent down hovering over your most precious and exposed place. He started giving you small kisses which only drove your need more. “Johnnie,” you whined, almost bucking your hips into his face.

He couldn't help the grin that plastered on his face. You wanted him so bad it drove HIM crazy. Those little whines you seem to not be able to control only made him harder.

He took your desperation as consent and dipped his tongue into your precious spot causing another beautiful moan. He continued to go in and out of you which only made those moans louder and more frequent.

He reaches particularly deep inside you and your back arches off the bed. “Mm, Johnnie I need you.” you almost yell. He slowly pulls his tongue out of you, wiping his mouth off.

You whine at the loss of contact. “I know. I know,” he whispers, grabbing your hip with his left hand. He taps the inside of your thigh with his right hand. “Open up baby,” he says, grabbing his rock-hard cock. He lines up against your entrance and slowly pushes in.

You throw your head back in euphoria. “Oh god.” you moan gripping the sheets as he pulls out and pushes back in. Once he finds a comfortable rhythm he sneaks up next to you and starts to kiss right under your ear.

This was because he could feel the noises you made with your throat and hear them. Fuck you were so beautiful. He presses a particularly deep spot as you help out, pressing all of your body into his causing him to feel the pull in his power belly.

“Shhhh,” he whispers against your skin, making no effort to quiet you. As he starts to near the end he plunges his hands into your breasts massaging and tugging.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) you were just being too loud. His hand shakes up from your breasts and up your neck reaching your mouth and clamping down. His rings slightly pinched your slips but the pain added to the euphoria.

He approached his end and started snapping his hips against yours. Your fingernails scratched his tattooed back as he pounded into you. Every moan and help only reached his hand as your walls fluttered around him a wave of pleasure seizing your body.

Your beautiful body constricting around him brought him to the end of his pleasure as his legs shook. His white cum filling you up.

After a moment he moved his hand. He held your eye contact with a smirk as you bashfully stared back. “Someone really likes me huh? You are this loud for everyone else?” he asks, planting a kiss on your cheek before pulling out.

“Shut up.” you whisper feeling blood rush to your cheeks.

[deareverlasting]

BEAR WITH ME.

warning: spoilers for ep 75

i was just scrolling through tiktok and then the thought occurred to me that everyone grew up together (minus ben and aiden) and basically never interacted until the group project. yeah, duh, that's the whole premise of their strange group at first, but it just strikes a cord to think that these kids who have become so inseparable were so close to each other this whole time without even knowing it, without even knowing that they needed each other.

because why now, after all these years, would they? after all, they were just strangers who occasionally saw each other in the hall or during class, strangers that they could never understand, right? they were just too different.

i mean, just think about how taylor says she's always noticed ashlyn since they were kids and how she was always on her own. she didnt understand how ash could be content with that, isn't it lonely?

tyler is most likely, lets face it, pretty popular. when we're introduced to him and taylor they're in this huge group of typical jocks due to tyler being on the baseball team. ashlyn and logan must've known him before due to that, seen them parading through the halls. and seeing as how neither logan nor ash like loud noises or crowds very much they probably wrote him off as a loud jock and went about their day. maybe saw how cold and angry he was with everyone but his sister and thought he must be unpleasant to be around.

as for logan, he, like ash, is pretty obviously very much a background character in everyone else's lives. most likely a loner just like ashlyn, very shy. if the rest of the gang ever noticed him it was probably nothing more than a glance. because logan at the time was nothing more than barrons stereotypical nerd that does his homework because he's scared of what will happen if he doesn't.

it just makes me ILL that these people who would grow to care so much about each other were all so close without knowing it, hell, they probably passed each other in their towns grocery store multiple times before. maybe seen tyler play in one of his games with taylor yelling above everyone else because that's her brother, saw ashlyn perform and dance, saw logan reading in the astronomy section in the library.

and yet they didn't know they'd ever learn to trust these strangers with their lives every night. that they would learn that tyler is more than just a loud, angry jock. he loves and cares about his sister, took up being basically a parent from a very young age, and doesn't truly have any friends because they are just a distraction.

that taylor is every bit as friendly as she let's others believe, but if you mess with her brother or her friends that sun can cloud over so quick.

that ashlyn likes to be alone but given the time and patience, she would love to be alone with you. that she doesn't want to, but if she's needed, she will step up and be the leader you need. sure, she isn't good at "friends" and she'll make mistakes, but she owns up to them because she tries and she cares.

and finally, logan, who at first is so shy and unsure, yet is quick-witted and brave enough to make hard choices and learn where he fits in with a group. to stand up against someone who bullied him and threatened him daily and help someone else from going down the same path he did.

AND PLEASE don't even get me started on ben and aiden.

those two have been practically alone their whole lives until they met each other. all aiden had was the dark room that reeked of molding food and people he hung around just to pass the time because he knew they weren't permanent, nothing ever was with his parents.

and ben's only friend before aiden being the music he could create before it was taken away from him, and all he had left was the broken melodies that he tried to find in every punch he threw.

they were both so, so alone and seeking something that would stay, something that would last because everything else that made them happy seemed to fall just out of reach now.

but just one move away, one final move to a small town in georgia held everything that could hurt and heal them all in one. they were all what everyone needed, even if they didn't know it and it drives me insane that if these kids hadn't been put through hell, they never would have found each other.

and they're more than willing to claw their way out together, not because they have to to survive, but because they want to so that they can live.

red what have you dooone 😭/pos

[suugarbabe]

Could you make a fan fiction about like reader haveing a really really bad sleep schedule and either Theo, mattheo or Enzo like take care of them and help them fix it? (Fluff, comforting)

ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᴵ ᵃᵐ ʰᵃᵛᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʳᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵐʸ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ˢᶜʰᵉᵈᵘˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ, ˡᶦᵗᵉʳᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᵠᵘᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵃᵗ ⁴:⁴⁰ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᶜʳʸᶦⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᶦˡˡ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʷʰᶦˡᵉ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᶜʰᵃʳᵐᶦⁿᵍ ᵇᵒʸ ᶦⁿ ʳᵉᵃˡ ˡᶦᶠᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ᵐᵉ ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ᵐʸ ʳᵉᵠᵘᵉˢᵗ ᶦˢⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵉᶦʳᵈ ᵒʳ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ.

ᴾˢ. ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷʳᶦᵗᵉ ᶦᵗ ᶦᵗ'ˢ ᶠᶦⁿᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳʳʸ

of course I want to write it lovie, I apologize that it took me a minute to do so 😩

theo nott x gn!reader ; all fluff

An internal battle was happening inside your mind. On the one hand, Theo did say you could come and wake him if you had trouble sleeping again. The way his lashes laid so pretty while he slept had you debating the other hand of just letting him continue to sleep peacefully.

Your sleep schedule the last few weeks had been honestly horrid. If you weren’t falling asleep during lessons, you were nearly dozing during meal times. When it came time to wind down and everyone else nestled behind the curtains of their four posters you’d feel restless. Like your mind couldn’t steady.

Theo had taken notice. He seemed to notice everything about you.

“You know, Tesoro, you can always come and be snug in my bed. I’ll help you fall asleep,” his offer sincere.

So here you were, standing next to his bed, debating to take him up on it. Not sure exactly what ‘helping you fall asleep’ would even be, but you were feeling desperate. Several professors said you’d receive a Dreadful or even a Troll if you continued to not be awake in class.

A tentative hand reaches out, brushing fallen strands of hair behind his ear as you speak barely above a whisper, “Teddy..”

Theo stirs slightly, only burying his face deeper into his pillow.

“Teddy…it’s me,” you try again. One glacier blue eye peeks open groggily, so you continue, “I’m, erm, I’m sorry I just…can’t sleep.”

You expect him to ignore you, or tell you to leave him alone. Except he does basically the opposite, turning from his side on to his back and holding up his duvet like an invitation.

He must have sensed your hesitation, despite his obvious encouragement. “Salire sul letto,” he nodded towards the empty space, hand still holding open his covers.

You climb in next to him, leaving the room that you could between the two of you. Theo apparently was having none of that, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you half of top of him.

“We’re being snug, ricordare,” his voice was still thick with sleep. You allowed yourself to relax, an arm draping itself over his middle. Theo grabbed the back of your knee, hiking one of your legs across his waist before running traces along your back with his fingers.

That was how you laid for a little while, wrapped in one another. Theo must have noticed you were still awake, as the next thing you knew he was humming quietly, a melody that sounded akin to that of a lullaby before words fell softly from his lips.

“Ninna nanna, ninna oh

Questo bimbo a chi lo dò?

Ninna nanna, ninna oh

Questo bimbo a chi lo dò?”

You smiled to yourself, hugging him a little closer, “Singing me a lullaby, Teddy?” You could feel the slight rumble in his chest and his laughed softly.

“It is what my mother would sing to me, tesoro. It would always help sleep come to me. Too cheesy for you?” You could feel him place a kiss to the top of your head.

You sank deeper into his embrace, “No, not too cheesy. Your mother was right, Teddy. Sleep is coming to me, too.”

Teddy’s fingertips continued to trail up and down your spine. He starts to hum again, every now and then the words falling from his lips as well. And for the first time in weeks, you’re able to fall asleep soundly.

[snazzynacho]

In Common

Quinn Mossbacher x female oc

Read on ao3 Masterlist.

Chapter 1/?

Summary: Aleena notices a boy around her age stuck on a level in a game she's played. She offers her help, and a lovely friendship turned romance blossoms between them.

Fandom: The White Lotus (Season 1)

Tags: rated Y/A fanfic basically, romance, friendship, slowburn (I’ll try), clean romance, awkward flirting, Quinn is autistic.

Aleena and her grandad are staying at the White Lotus hotel.

For the past half an hour she’s been swimming in the pool while he’s probably off talking his head off with someone.

She’s thankful to get some piece and quiet. She loves her grandad but he’s always talking even when she has headphones on.

Twisting her body around to pick up her cup of apple juice she left on the poolside, she finishes her drink. As she does, her ears twitch at the sound of a familiar melody. She turns and her gaze falls on the boy her age, swwading in the water, holding up his phone in his right hand and a Nintwndo Switch in the other. The Switch plays an iconic Stardew Valley song which Aleena instantly recognises as the sound played in the mines.

He seems to be stuck on a level in the mines and she decides to offer help.

He veers around in the water at the sound of her voice giving him advice. His blue eyes look startled and Aleena feels a guilty churn in her stomach for scaring him.

He quickly turns back to his game and she drifts to the side of the pool to leave, deciding she’s embarrassed herself enough for today. Before she leaves, she hears a voice call out.

“Thanks, I’ve been struggling with this for a while…I kept dying and then losing all my shit in the mines! How did you beat it?” He looks at you as he puts his Switch down on the poolside which Alewna cringes at. Isn't he scared of getting it wet?!

“Uhh, by spending months screaming and trying not to throw the Switch across the room,” she chuckles, holding onto the onto the pool edge “but I eventually got there,”

He chuckles a little at her answer and glimpses at his Switch, remembering himself trying desperately all those times to finish the level for weeks. He smiles at her determination and then back at her.

“Well, you must be really good, because this level has been a nightmare. Those Crave Flies are horrible!”

“Right?! The noise they make makes my stomach churn…” she grimaces, swaying in the water closer to him.

He glances back at his Switch before turning to look at her with an intrigued look on his face.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,”

He looks at her for a moment but is slightly hesitant to ask for the question. Eventually he decides to ask anyway, not being sure how she is going to take it.

“How old are you?”

“That is what you’re asking?” Aleena can't help but snort a laugh. “You know you shouldn't ask a lady that-” she feigns offence but the look on his face tells her he doesn't know she is joking. “I'm kidding. I’m Seventeen. Why?”

He then looks down at the shimmering pool water, watching the ripples of sunlight dance on it, thinking for a few moments before he continues. “No reason…just wondering why someone like you would approach someone like me.“

“What do you mean?”

He thinks about it for a moment, before speaking. “It was just a little surprising. I wasn’t really expecting a complete stranger to help me at first. No one my age really wants anything to do with me,” he looks over at his Switch, cursing to himself for being so open and honest with a stranger.

She shrugs. “To be fair, it was bugging me how many times you were messing up,”

He laughs and it warms her heart for some reason. His eyes drift to her brown ones and back to the Nintendo Switch again. He then notices that he completely forgot to ask her name. “Wait-“ he says, looking back at her. “What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?”

He lets out a small laugh, at her counteract. “It’s Quinn. Yours?”

“Aleena,” she beams.

Quinn smiles, determining that her name is pretty and fitting. He looks back at his Switch again, still a little hesitant about asking a question that has been lingering on his mind for a while. “Can I ask you something else?”

“You know, you don’t have to ask that every time?”

Quinn laughs a little sheepishly at her statement, learning that he does have a habit of asking permission to ask a question. “I guess I do say that a lot, huh?”

“It’s fine,” Aleena giggles. “What were you gonna ask?”

Quinn lets out another small laugh, more of a nervous one this time, as he rubs the back of his neck, wondering how exactly to ask this question.

“Uh- well, I was wondering if…if you maybe wanted to go hang out together while we’re staying here…like, as friends?”

“Sure! It’s nice to finally find a gamer out in the wild,” she smiles. “What’s your Switch username by the way?” She asks as she leaves the pool to retrieve her switch from her bag, drying off first.

He seems to follow her lead, as he gets out the pool too, sitting on the empty lounge chair next to hers.

Quinn looks at Aleena with excitement at her willingness to hang out. He grabs his Switch to share his username with you. “It’s uh- Moss19. What’s yours?”

“Turtleena. T-U-R-T-L-E-E-N-A,”

He laughs at your username for a moment, amused by it, before looking back up at you with a smile. “Nice username. I’m gonna add you as a friend. I’m guessing you like Turtles?”Quinn clicks on the button to add her as a friend. His Switch makes an affirming sound when it obliges. He grins and looks back at Aleena. “There. We’re friends now.”

“Yay, thanks, I’m adding you too. And yeah, you could say that,” she chuckles, fiddling with the stitched corner of her purple towel. “Do you like Moss, then?” Aleena jokes but before either of them can say another word, her grandad calls for her from across the pool.

Quinn looks around when hearing her grandad hollering for her at the other end of the pool. He looks back at her and gives a sympathetic look as well as a shrug. “Guess you have to go?”

“Yeah, sorry.” she shoves her switch back into her bag, grabbing her pink towel to wrap herself with. “Well, I’ll see you around. Can you even message people on a switch? Or can you only text on a phone? Oh, here’s my number anyway,” she rambles on and uses a piece of her towel to wipe the chlorine water off his arm, and scribbles her number on his arm using a glittery pen she found in the bottom of her bag.

Quinn watches as she scribbles her number onto his arm, like etching a tattoo, completely endeared by her rambling. He admires her work of tattoo artistry on his arm, the sparkly red ink contrasts against his pale skin with every stroke.

“No worries, I’ll message you. And…yeah, you can message through the Switch. Can’t call or anything though,” he’s surprised he can keep his cool, at her touch.

“Oh right. Of course.” she stands in front of him kind of awkwardly, not wanting to leave. “Well, bye Quinn” she smiles once more, waves, and walks away.

Quinn smiles at Aleena, giving a small wave back, a bit surprised at her slight hesitation to leave, before watching her walk off to her grandad.

Sitting back in the chair where he was previously sitting, Quinn stares up at the blue sky with a small smile plastered on his face.

The smile quickly fades as he realises he never told her his age, and he might seem weird in not doing so after asking her how old she is. He sits back up and yells, “I’m sixteen by the way!”

Aleena whips her head around at the sound of Quinn’s voice from a few metres away, not quite registering why he has said that, at first.

“Oh, okay!” she shouts back, and laugh to yourself. These two are one awkward pair, and Aleena loves it.

YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS.

A/N: I headcanon that Quinn plays Minecraft, Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, and Mario Kart on his switch. (these are the only games I play either lol.) And I headcanon that he obviously has an Xbox at home.

[afsosville]

Listen, ik BingJiu is basically a breeding ground for dead doves but ISTFG that this fandom is just not seeing things the way I do. And so here I am spreading the soft BingJiu agenda coz they both need to be honestly and wholeheartedly loved so fuck canon just let them love each other PLEASE.

Anyways, does anyone have cute BingJiu recs? I can't seem to find anymore so I'm here now lol. Here's all the ones ik:

Lost my heart to you (there in the dark, under the stars) by Saccharinings

You are not alone, not anymore and Goodbye, my past reality by Elis98

Unconventional Baby Trapping and The Father-In-Law is Unknowingly the Bride? I Must Train Hard to Become Best Husband! by Munyusz

Bamboo, fire, and ink by Luobinghelover

Ghost SJ by Unknown103User

Once upon a winter morning by NazakiSama166

Do I really need to give you away...? by Ivy_Aishi

Have a nice day! by Ehann

An easy lie by Nythtak

Rustling leaves by Jeejaschocolate

Two lilies blackened, two lilies grey by Texturralize

Honestly, it's like you've never seen a man and his demon before by Anon

My little baozi and Shen Jiu's options by Airei

Puppy love need not be temporary by Myakachan

Finding home in you and A lifetime with you by Shorimochi

Responsibility by Anon

I have no time for confession | for I'm too busy committing sins by Space_Samurai

Being a girl is great by Anon

When does a ripple become a tidal wave? and Falling, Falling, Falling for You by The_Binding

Unfinished business by Kitsunealyc

The faces you forgot by Probablyaceok

Melodies of the Heart and The Innocence of Spring Blossoms by CrazyNekoChan

Spite my way to happiness by Misto713

How to keep my favourite beast alive by Tomyam

What once was by Revesdelimonade

What Could Have Been by Sleek4410

Sweet dreams by ari_sunshine

Blackened Metamorphosis and Black Lotus Binghe by tpfw01

The Peak Lord Who Didn't Want a Damn Dog by Silver999

Now Welcome to the New World by Anon

To be your Shizun is not my Destiny by SleepySsnail

A Kinder World by Thispe

Proud Immortal Demon's System by Queen_Buster

Bamboo Shoots by sailorstar165

[bell4donn4]

Getaway truck | a western road trip with Luke Castellan

Tags: established relationship,Luke and reader are basically the mom and dad of chb, reader’s godly parent is not specified.

Author’s note: tbh I’ve been lowkey obsessed w western Americana and road trips. I wanted this to be longer but whatever

The humid wind coming from the rolled down window gently messed up your hair.

You sat quietly on the passenger seat of the washed out green truck you and Luke rented. It must have been a Ford 1967, or some other kind of vintage model.

You couldn’t tell, and honestly, you didn’t bother to anyways, too busy looking out of the window admiring the desertic surroundings; sipping on your drugstore coca-cola.

<<you smudged your lipstick>> he glanced at you, taking his eyes off the road to send you a lopsided smile. One of his big and rough hands rested on your bare thigh, exposed by your jeans shorts.

It was mid summer, almost autumn time, yet the western country side never failed to drain you out with its scorching weather.

<<did I?>> you pulled down the visor, inspecting yourself in the small mirror; but you could tell he was right by the red stain on the metal can.

<<oh yeah, I did>>

Luke laughed lowly while he took a turn to the left, hand strong and firm on the steering wheel. You admired him in silence, a sort of pride filling your ego as you looked at your boyfriend.

That day, he wore a white linen shirt, which he (purposely) left unbuttoned on the chest, making his Hermes dog-tag visible. A pair of sunglass used to sit in the bridge of his nose, but were now long forgotten on the dashboard. It felt weird to see him without the bright orange shirt.

This little getaway from camp was going more than lovely. Finally free from all the responsibilities you both had to take on. You couldn’t even imagine how the camp must have looked like in that moment, with both of the two head counsolers gone.

<<do you think they set the cabins on fire?>>

<<for how long have we been away?>> Luke said

<< half a day?>> you nodded

<<yeah then, the woods are probably already burning as well. Along with the cabins and all>>

he hummed in approval at his own answer, earning a giggle from you.

He caressed your thigh with his thumb.

<<im joking, I’m sure the kids will be alright>>

<<you sound like an old dad>>

He shrugged his shoulders, grinning; but just as it started, the conversation slowly died down.

In the background of your comfortable silence, a low melody coming from the radio filled your ear.

With Luke, you didn’t need to talk. No many words need to be spoken with a man like him. You have been together enough to understand each other in silence. Plus— that should’ve been a sort of vacation from the chaos of camp.

So you preferred not to add anything else, simply allowing the worries to occupy the back of your mind.

You turned the music up as Molly Parton started playing.

You enjoyed the song, humming along the robotic notes coming from the radio.

Fortunately, by the time you arrived at your destination— a lake far far away from the one you had to see everyday— the worries were all gone. Replaced by that fuzzy feeling that only being with Luke could give you.

[sansculottides]

playing disco elysium for the first time felt so familiar because it was made by communists. i kept getting the feeling of - i see you! i know you! every time i came across encyclopedia worldbuilding checks and recognized the tools of historical materialism brilliantly used. i wince when i see people describe DE as just being ironic about communism or whatever - no! this is the most communist game ive ever played!

sometimes i see people point to the deserter's character as evidence that DE isn't truly a communist work, but i don't think the deserter is meant to be a paragon of communism in the game. he's a revolutionary stuck in the past and that is his grave error. "The material base for an uprising has ended," "The historical condition for a revolutionary opportunity has passed. It will not come back anymore. However hard I try, whatever I do." but everything you've seen the game proves his statement wrong. DE's world still has the objective conditions for revolution because the working masses are sick of all the ruling order's shit, and there are plentiful opportunities to develop the subjective forces as we see in the communist quest that young people are willing to continue the communist struggle. but the deserter cant see that from his position and his trauma - ultimately this is what makes him fail as a communist because he has let go of the basic principles: that world is always changing; that change is made by people, through class struggle; that a communist must always be grounded and alert of their own material context.

the scene in the communist quest where you get through to steban and it tells you that "you're witnessing his ironic armor melt before you" - i think that was the devs taking their ironic mask off, too. i believe that because steban's reasons for his communism are the same as mine. we have to struggle even if it's hard and even if they kill us because this is what keeps us human. to struggle for freedom is the next best thing to actually being free. to fight for communism is to fight for the future. it is not about being imprisoned by failures of the past. in fact it IS about failure - because the movement is the working class's school in the struggle for power and we need to learn from each failure and move forward.

i just know that if my comrades and i were somehow in a room with the devs and we had to sing the internationale, we would all know the words. in different languages, but we'll sing the same melody and when we get to the part, the word "international" will be sung in unison. do you get me? i think disco elysium is to some young game-savvy communists of the world today as "what is to be done" was to lenin's generation. something something international communist solidarity...

[jimblejamblewritings]

love letters and second sons | part 4.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes)

Warnings for this part: smut

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

The cloak wrapped around you felt like velvet. The softness between your fingers calmed you down significantly. Reynolds grabbed your hand after the fifth time you balled it up in your skirts. You looked up to see your three valets trying to hide the concern on their faces. You could have an incident or get caught or both. None of those three options were ideal or even good. 

“Do I look decent?” you asked as the carriage got closer and closer to the party. 

“You look perfect.” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t wear the mask?” 

“You don’t have to but keep it on you.” 

You agreed, exiting the carriage with a letter from the princess version of you — complete with a wax seal — that was basically a pass to enter any establishment no matter what. Spotting Penelope and Colin out of the corner of your eye, you breathed out a sigh of relief and ran over to them. Both of them wore wide smiles at your surprise arrival. They had been expecting a letter or something to signal your arrival back from Ireland. 

You were sad to hear about Marina not joining you all for this evening. It would have been nice to know her more than a little bit in between the courting of suitors. But there would be more times to meet and catch up later. Plus, hearing your friends’ stories of their daily lives proved to be a good enough distraction. You let them go after a while so Colin could escort Penelope to the dance floor like he promised to do after a run in with Cressida Cowper. 

Looking around, you failed to immediately locate the rest of the Bridgerton children. You grabbed a drink from the lemonade table and began to wander. The alcohol had looked appealing but you had never drank, afraid of the consequences if drink mixed with your illness. Someday you’d try some but not after an episode. Never right after one. 

On the outskirts of the party, still close enough to hear the music, you ran into Benedict. He gave you a smile and the same surprised look on his face as Penelope and Colin. You leaned in closer to hear him over the deafening melodies of the orchestra. Small talk that was mainly about your fictitious trip made up the first half of your conversation. After a while, you grew comfortable with each other as if you never left. 

“The lights are beautiful,” he commented, staring at the small lantern display that a scientist presented. 

You nodded. “We have some at the palace. They add more day by day but it would be nice if all of London, maybe all of the world, had these little lights. How has your art been?” 

“Not terribly well. Nothing seems to be good enough.” 

“Well, what are you drawing?” 

“Still life. I can’t expect my free drawings to be good if I can’t depict what is right in front of me.” 

“You are too hard on yourself, Benedict seriously,” you argued when he scoffed. “Sometimes we have a problem seeing our own greatness. You ju—” 

“Would you ever consider marriage to someone, me, perhaps?” 

You choked on your lemonade. “Pardon?” 

“Apologies.” He finally turned to look at you. “With Daphne out in society, people have started looking at Anthony and because my dear brother does not care to at least pretend to be a proper viscount, they have started to look at me. Ravenous mamas are eyeing me and it must be a matter of time before they talk to me.” 

You laughed. “You still call me Miss Beckett yet you want me to help you through a marriage?” 

“Wait, what is your name, actually? If you are to continue being a friend of the family then I am at liberty to refer to you by first name.” 

“Bergamot. My parents were a bit too keen on gardens. My second name is Sophie.” 

“Bergamot Sophie Beckett. That is a lovely name.” 

“Thank you… I still won’t marry you.”

Benedict scrunched up his face as he bent over to try and plead with you. “Please! I can’t be out here with the wolves.” 

You patted him on the shoulder. “Your whining, no matter how pathetic and cute, will not work. I will see you tomorrow, alright.” 

He muttered something that you didn’t hear while you took off into the gardens for a stroll. You’d have to leave soon, pressing your luck wasn’t the way to go. You put your cloak back on and closed it to hide your dress completely as you finally put your mask on. The gardens at night were very beautiful. Perhaps because you were alone. 

You chuckled at the thought of your interaction with Benedict. Even if it happened only a few moments ago, it was hysterical. It was only funnier because you were sure that when you finally introduced yourself to society, you’d get even stranger proposals. Only they wouldn’t be to avoid hungry mamas. And they wouldn’t be coming from one of your friends. 

Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too upset with you. Hyacinth would never but she was more like a little sister than a friend. Benedict would think the whole situation is funny, hopefully. Daphne might as well. Eloise and Penelope could go either way. Anthony would probably be mad that you let him attempt to woo the princess when you knew the truth which would make Colin and Gregory and Francesca mad at you as well. But maybe it would be fine after you explained everything. 

The sound of voices caught your attention. Spying was wrong but you couldn’t help yourself. You started to walk into the hedges, ignoring the twigs catching everywhere. The view wasn’t the best but you could see well enough. What could be a scandal between Daphne Bridgerton and Nigel Berbrooke seemed to be a very different scene to you because you knew the man from her letters. You tightened the mask around you just in case you needed to leave the bushes. 

Nigel kept coming close to Daphne. You began to run when he grabbed her, thinking of how to protect your friend. You’d have to hit him. That was the only option. There was nothing else you could do about it… You paused as Daphne pulled her hand back. There was Nigel Berbrooke on the ground. After being punched. 

You and Daphne looked up from Nigel to see the Duke of Hastings running into the garden clearing as well. The two of them seemed to realize that you were the princess and you were in the garden with them having witnessed everything. They bowed to you deeply, something you returned. 

“I will survey the area. If I do not return then you two may safely leave the garden.” 

“Thank you, Your Highness.” 

“It is no trouble really. I am so sorry for your distress, Miss Bridgerton, and I do hope your hand feels better in the morning.”  

You did a thorough check of the area to make sure that Daphne wasn’t compromised before fleeing to your carriage before anyone could spot the mask. Assuring your valets nothing went wrong, you closed the carriage door and let it drive back to Kew. 

“Thank you,” you said as you took off your mask and cloak and opened the carriage window since it was night. 

“For what?” 

“For making me go out tonight. I did need it. I feel better, immensely.” 

“That is good. We are glad to hear it. Will you be going out again tomorrow?” 

“Just to the Bridgertons.” 

“Oh, to home then.” 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue because they were right. Being at the Bridgertons felt like home more than your own at times. Maybe because your mother and father were the only ones who even tried to be a proper family. But there was no trying with the Bridgertons. They just were family. 

That much was true when you walked into the house a lot later than the early morning to see everyone but Eloise in the drawing room, talking about Daphne and the Duke. You said hello, greeted by hugs from everyone who didn’t see you yesterday. You took the plate of toast from Violet, who was trying to get her daughter to eat, and shoved the bread under Daphne’s nose. She took a bite before actually grabbing it from you. Relieved of your mother bird duties, you plopped down on the couch in between Benedict and Colin. 

“What are your plans for today?” 

“Fencing and then a gentlemen’s club and then preparing for a party tomorrow and, dreadfully, a picnic the next day,” Colin said as he handed you a chocolate from the box on the side table. 

“May I watch?” 

“Of course, Sophie. A beautiful lady will only encourage us.” 

“Since when did you learn to be a flirt?” 

He just shrugged, sitting back to listen to Daphne play the pianoforte and tease her about the duke. You clapped at the end of her piece and requested a second one that she obliged. Daphne would have to play at the palace some time or at least at Kew. She sounded lovely. Closing your eyes, you just listened for a moment. 

“How does a lady come to be with child?” 

Your eyes flew open to see Eloise standing in front of everyone. Violet jumped up from her brief moment of sitting on the couch across from you. 

“Eloise, what a question!” 

“I thought marriage was a requirement.” 

Daphne tilted her head. “What?” 

“Apparently, it’s not even a requirement.” 

“Eloise.” 

“Mama, the princess did say all young women nearing their debut should learn.” 

Violet stuttered as she took the tray of food out of the room, forcing Hyacinth and Gregory to go with her, stating she’d be back in a moment she just needed some water. She turned back for a moment. 

“Daphne, dear, do go on. I’d like to hear some calming music when we return.” 

Eloise trudged over to the couch, sitting on the other side of Benedict. She smacked her brothers’ knees but neither one of them wanted to answer her directly. Colin turned his head. 

“Have you ever visited a farm, El?” 

You laughed as Benedict smacked the back of Colin’s head but stopped when Eloise slumped down in her seat. You tapped her on the shoulder, making her perk up again. Your hand rested on Benedict’s thigh so you could prop yourself up as you leaned over him.

Covering your mouth and Eloise’s ear, you began whispering to your friend everything you thought she needed to know about sex. Unable to help himself, Benedict leaned in to spy, surprised that your information was actually correct. You weren’t lying, the Princess’ court really taught all the valets everything. Eloise sat back, finally satisfied and a lot less worried about a spontaneous pregnancy. Until she became curious again. 

“But why would anyone want to initiate it? Who wants to be with child?” 

You leaned over once again. “No one wants to be with child. Even those who want children. It’s about the pleasure. Sometimes the pleasure of actually liking someone and other times the pleasure being about nothing but you.” 

“What?” 

“The… think about when you start breathing a bit heavier, feeling warm when you touch each other, a… I’ll tell you the rest when your brothers aren’t here. It is a bit awkward. Oh, I’ll even draw you pictures. Only a certain amount of posit— mov— steps are important. The rest you should figure out with your husband.” 

“So you do truly know what you’re talking about?” Benedict interrupted the nearly finished meeting. 

“Did you doubt me?” 

“A bit,” he admitted. 

You sat back down. “Men aren’t the only ones that know what they are talking about.” 

“Sorry to offend.” 

“No offense. None at all. I expect even the kindest and smartest and prudest of men to think such things.” 

“Well, I am still sorry. If not because of offense then because of my ignorance.”

You squeezed his thigh in appreciation. Benedict laid his hand on top of yours. The two of you stayed like that for a moment until his hand held onto yours a bit tighter. He turned to look at you. There was an understanding shared between your eyes. There was no breathing heavy or loving eyes. It was for both of you but in purely selfish pleasurable ways. 

“Sophie, are you coming to watch our fencing match?” Benedict asked.

“Yes.” At that he moved your hand closer to his private. “A bit after the calling hour starts. I like to watch the men make fools of themselves.” 

“I am not surprised by that at all. Shall we wait for you?” 

You closed the gap and placed your hand over the top of Benedict’s pants. “No. You may start without me and I’ll just come when I find the time.” 

“Okay. We’ll play again soon, maybe even another game today. So don’t be too bothered if you miss us playing for your calling hour.” 

Giving an experimental squeeze, you watched the man next to you nod ever so slightly and swallow his spit before moving your hand himself. You both relaxed into the couch completely, satisfied with your understanding. The two men left when Violet came back — it was fairly obvious that calling hour was about to start. The calling hour was several hours but at some point you had just dropped the s and you weren’t sure why. 

You thought it would be only one or two men but the duke seemed to have lit a fire under the other men’s feet. The line became rather long rather quickly. You were happy for Daphne. The more men the better. Maybe she could get a love match.

You took the last bouquet of flowers for Daphne, thanked Lord Colfield, and went to go put the flowers in a vase on the fireplace mantle. You were about to tell Daphne that you were leaving to see her brothers’ fencing match when Anthony came storming in. A gasp escaped you when Nigel Berbrooke came up behind. You were completely over this little man and his obsession. 

Without thinking, you approached Anthony. “What do you think you ar— Anthony, you and Nigel need to either leave the drawing room as this is your sister’s calling hour or wait in line if he is here to call? These lords and gentlemen have waited a great deal to talk to her and they are very patient. It is not right nor just nor of any class to disrespect the patience they have shown.” 

“Nigel?” Berbrooke scoffed. “Who do think yo—” 

“The Young Princess’ valet. She’s become a family friend,” Anthony cut Nigel off. 

At least Berbrooke had the decency to be surprised and then give you a bow. Their tunes towards you changed completely as they almost looked like they were going to wait their turn or just leave. Nigel smiled. 

“Callers were unexpected as we have already been talking extensively.” 

“Lord Berbrooke is the only man who proposed and therefore the only person I consider.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” You looked at Anthony.

“He is the on—” 

“Everyone! I am very sorry but you must leave. Miss Bridgerton’s calling hour is currently closed. Please leave your name with Heroldt, starting with the order you have been waiting, and two days from now we will continue.” You turned to Anthony as everyone filed out without complaint since they thought the princess was the reason for calling hour being over. “There. Now, Lord Berbrooke, I must speak with the Bridgertons alone. I hope that speech staved off the wolves for you if only for two days while matters are discussed.” 

“Thank you, Lady…” 

“Miss Beckett,” Anthony answered. “Thank you, Sophie. Lord Berbrooke, do you need me to escort you?” 

“No, no. You have business. I can find the front door on my own.” 

The moment he left, you, Daphne, and Violet descended on Anthony. Every word that came out of Anthony’s mouth made you scoff. Violet looked between all three of you, very upset. Anthony was ruining both Daphne’s prospects as well as his own prospects with the princess. And you were there to witness it all.

You backed Daphne on everything. Even if she was wrong, Nigel was a foul man that you would never allow to marry. You approached Anthony, speaking lowly although your friend and her mother could still hear it. 

“I hope you survive whatever poison you are drinking. Whether the Duke is a serious man or not, there are plenty of serious men here. You will not sign away your sister to such a foul man that you barely know as well and pretend it is in her best interest. And you will not expect her to be understanding or appreciative when you don’t care an ounce for your sister’s happiness. And you still wish to draw up a marriage contract? Please, just think for a moment… Good day, Viscount Bridgerton.” 

You stormed out of the drawing room and straight into the backyard where Colin and Benedict were handing their fencing gear back to a servant. They noticed the furrow in your brow. Benedict clicked his tongue. 

“I will find out what is wrong. You, brother, instruct the kitchen to leave something out for us. If there is crying then we will be long.” 

Benedict practically dragged you to the far side of the backyard. He knew no one would think anything of it when you were very angry about something Anthony did — that part was loud enough for everyone to hear. He looked at you when the two of you finally stopped. 

“Was that a ploy to get away? Or are you genuinely mad at my brother?” 

“I don’t want to talk about why I’m mad at Anthony. There’s nothing you can do anyway. Not without a good scandal… Sorry, I came out here for a fencing match. Let us focus on it. On you.” 

He took your hand again, placing it over his trousers. You began to rub it back and forth, the fabric between you guys creating friction. You reached into his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking it a bit more freely. Benedict pulled you closer. His hand reached around your ass to squeeze it.

Every time you stroked him closer to finishing he would squeeze harder than before. You watched his face the entire time. If you got back exactly what you were giving him then you would be a very happy woman. It was truly going to be about selfish pleasure for both of you. 

You gasped when he all but ripped the top part of the dress as he tried to push it all down to expose your breasts. He wanted something else to stare at that would get him off even quicker. You tried to stifle any moans threatening to escape your lips as he groped you — some of the marks so hard you were sure they would be a bit red until tomorrow. This was his turn. Yours would be later. If you both tried to get pleasure at the same time... Well, that's how people fall in love. The two of you weren't stupid to test that.

Benedict moaned and for a moment both of you were worried someone would come see what was the matter. He laughed underneath your hand covering his mouth. 

A shudder went through him and he grabbed your wrist. “I’m going to come. I-if you let g-go… just in m-my britches.” 

You dropped to your knees, shocking your friend. He grabbed your head with one hand while he bit down on the other until he finished. A very gentle touch lifted you up. He wiped stray bits of lipstick from around your mouth, wiping the evidence away on the inside of his vest. 

“I have to say I did not expect you to sit down for the last round of fencing. We were done anyway.” 

“Well, I wanted to help put up the equipment so we could all relax later. Plus, if the princess does choose to invite you all to Kew then I would like you to help put up the equipment there too.” 

Benedict laughed. 

“I promise whether I win or lose. The next time we have a round of fencing, I will put up the equipment. All of it.”

He leaned down to whisper.

“Even if you are not a lover, I would never have you on the ground, sullying your pretty gowns and body..." He squeezed your breasts one last time before helping pull your dress back up. "with grass and dirt stains. I promise I’ll bring you your pleasure next time we are inside and alone. I will leave first and retire to my room. You stay out here and eat the sandwiches the cook left. I won’t be able to return for at least an hour.” 

“Okay. I have to go see the Featheringtons and Miss Thompson anyway.” 

You did just as Benedict suggested and no one even gave you a suspicious look. You took your own sweet time going across the street. You had moved the physician and all of Wednesdays special tutors to Tuesdays so you would have more time in the city. Despite not wanting any visitors, you were the obvious exception and could go upstairs to see Marina. She looked up from her writing desk when Penelope announced she was coming with a visitor. 

The three of you gathered on the bed to share a plate of sweets. You mainly listened to Marina and Penelope, not having much to add. You wanted to figure out a way to help her. Trying to meddle in daily affairs and save the lives of one subject at a time seemed almost ridiculous. But, that was what you should do as a royal. 

“Did you say Spain?” 

“Yes. That’s where all of George’s letters are coming from at the moment. They all say Spain.”

“If you ever need a letter to Spain or to anywhere else they send Sir George, just let me know. The princess wants to help her subjects, especially women, so give me a letter and I’ll give it to her. Whenever you need.” 

Marina flung herself at you. “Thank you. If there shall ever be a problem, I promise I will say such.” 

“Oh, the princess is going back to the palace for a few weeks because of something important so I won’t be so available for a little bit.” 

“What will she be there for?” 

“You will find out when it happens.” 

The two of them giggled. “You are so mysterious.” 

~~

You were tired after an exhausting day but a letter you received from a footman that same day made you get up. Anthony had given you a key to the front and back garden gates as well as the back door that led into the kitchen. You entered through the backyard so you could actually get inside the house without waking the entire house with your knocking. You only needed Violet and Daphne. And you had a letter to leave just in case you couldn’t wake a single person. 

Voices made you pause. You recognized Eloise and Benedict talking. Instead of going any further, you just listened. Eloise — like so many other women — wanted better for herself. It had never been a question of something you would plead to your brother… You sighed. You knew your brother. It was time to stop thinking of him as the heir. There was a reason everyone was going to support Younger Charlotte’s claim over her father. And Young Charlotte listened to you. She planned on making you her advisor. There would be no pleading. You would make better laws for women. 

You didn’t want to disturb them too much so you flung the letter at Benedict’s head. Running as fast as you could, you ignored their confused calling out for you once they recognized the letter coming from the princess. Hopefully, Benedict or Eloise would get the letter to their mother before Nigel could come back. 

Dear Dowager Viscountess, 

I am nothing but my mother’s daughter and therefore it is, in fact, my job to meddle in the lives of our precious subjects for a better and more peaceful United Kingdom. Miss Beckett has told me much of your troubles in regards to a man called Lord Nigel Berbrooke. I don’t have much information on him but I do have a request that I would ask you to aid your princess in. 

I recall an acquaintance of his. A maid. She used to work at the palace but asked for a job in the ton so she could be closer to her aging parents. I believe she was employed by a neighbor of the Berbrookes? Or a friend? Or maybe them, who knows. She was supposed to come back two years after they died but has yet to return. Nigel or one of his neighbors must know. Or perhaps, his mother, she’s very close to the maids. Knows every single one of them by name. I care terribly for this maid and would like her working back at the palace.  

Please meet with his mother. She loves crumpets with any sort of preserves or a chocolate dipping sauce. It was all she wanted when she requested a meeting with my second brother. 

That is all I have to say. I do look forward to seeing your family properly. 

Yours Truly, 

Princess Y/N Kew 

P.S. Please tell Anthony that it took him long enough but I am proud he finally came to his senses. If only he can learn to listen to a woman first then he might have less problems.

You smiled to yourself as you sat in the kitchens. The staff couldn’t stop talking about Nigel Berbrooke’s bastard that he doesn’t take care of and the mother he sent away before she even gave birth. You would feel bad but you had a very personal and up-close view of the man’s real personality. The morning only got better when Brimsley and Reynolds came in with Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers. It was on the front page of the pamphlets. Absolutely worth paying the two pounds per pamphlet for everyone in the Kew household. 

“Do you think he’ll ever show his face again?” 

“No,” the cook said as she handed you your breakfast. “You did a good thing for Miss Bridgerton, Your Grace.” 

“Your Grace?” 

“It is just a title we are trying out.” 

You hummed suspiciously. The cook ignored you. 

“You better pack if you don’t want to be late for the carriage coming today.” 

You nearly forgot. The reason you couldn’t hang out with the Featheringtons and the Bridgertons arrived. Your cousin Friedrich, the prince of Prussia, was coming for a visit. He agreed to marry a British girl to strengthen the alliances and prove that Prussia and Britain were still close family. It was neither a complete truth or a complete lie. The entire family was not close. But you, your cousin, your father, your mother, and your aunt were very close. 

Sneaking out wasn’t an option. You thought that much as the carriage neared Buckingham. It had been a while since you snuck out the palace — a completely different thing from simply leaving Kew. Pandora, Brimsley, or Reynolds would sneak you your letters and you would be satisfied. Besides, even though your family was coming for an indefinite amount of time, you only had to stay a week or two. 

The carriage hadn’t even stopped completely before you ran to hug your cousin. It had been years since you last saw each other. You could hear your mothers laughing in the background. They left to have tea inside while the two of you stayed out. 

Friedrich took your hand in the crook of his arm. “Come, cousin, let us take a promenade. Have you been well?” 

“I have been better. However, I am doing well.” 

“And your illness?” 

“Not better. But I haven’t had an episode that I couldn't recover from on my own.” 

“That is good. I suppose that is the best we can ask for. Especially since I have a surprise for you.” 

“A surprise?” 

“I asked Aunt Charlotte and she agreed to let the princess accompany me to events as she knows the ton better than the both of us. You have to wear your mask but it is still a good deal.” 

“It is a wonderful deal.”

“Good. The first event is a ball tonight.” 

“Tonight?! But I’m not prepared.” 

“I’ve already had everything arranged.” 

“You planned this?” 

“I figured it would do you good to get some fresh air and get out of the palace… or Kew, now.” 

“Thank you, Friedrich. Seriously, thank you.”

(part 5)

THIS FIC TAGLIST:

@fredsbetch @cherrylovers-world @chrystinaamanda @grassclippers @flyestvenustrap @spookystitchery @lovelyygirl8 @ben-has-arrived @tragically-hipp @cherrysxuya @alowint @jackierose902109 @boojaynaqueen @thesparkling-diamond27 @intothesoul

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

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[fruvittea]

late night jams

💌﹒→﹒roommate!vernon x reader ﹒ ﹒ ♪

— genre: slice of life, romance, fluff

— word count: 2.3k

— warnings? none

— synopsis: Vernon becomes your roommate after responding to an ad you posted. You quickly bond over your shared love of music, and late-night jam sessions turn into something more.

1:00 PM – Move-In Day

The apartment smells faintly of fresh paint and pine-scented cleaner when you unlock the door. Two suitcases rest by your side, and a backpack hangs off your shoulder, weighing you down as you step inside. The place is small but cozy—a combination of warm wooden floors and beige walls that will look less generic once you’ve hung up some posters. Your stomach flips with a mix of excitement and nerves. This is your first time living away from home, and though you’re ready for independence, the idea of sharing the space with a complete stranger makes your palms sweat.

You’ve only exchanged a few texts with Vernon, your new roommate. His messages were polite but sparse, like he wasn’t too keen on chatting beyond the basics. He mentioned he’d arrive a bit later, so you’ve got the apartment to yourself for now. You drag your suitcases into the room on the right, claiming it as your own. The window overlooks the street below, where cars hum by and people walk briskly, the late afternoon sun glinting off storefront windows.

By the time you’ve unpacked a few essentials and stacked your books on the desk, a knock sounds at the door. Heart thudding, you head to the living room and open it. There stands Vernon, a duffle bag slung over one shoulder and a guitar case in his other hand. His dark brown hair falls slightly over his eyes, and he gives you a small, lopsided smile.

“Hey, you must be…” he starts, trailing off as he glances down at the paper taped to the doorframe with your names on it. “Yeah, you. I’m Vernon.”

“And you must be Vernon,” you reply with a grin, stepping aside to let him in.

“Nice place,” he says, setting his things down and looking around. “Smells like a pine forest, though.”

You laugh, feeling some of the tension ease. “Yeah, I think they overdid it with the cleaning spray. It’ll wear off.”

He nods and gives you another small smile before heading to the room on the left. You’re not sure what to expect from him, but his quiet demeanor makes you think he’ll be easy to live with.

-

9:00 PM – The First Jam

Later that night, the apartment is quiet except for the low hum of your laptop. You’ve spent the evening settling in and scrolling through social media, and you’re just about to call it a night when a soft melody drifts through the walls. At first, you think it’s coming from outside, but then you realize it’s Vernon.

You press your ear to the door, curiosity getting the better of you. He’s playing the guitar, the notes soft and smooth, accompanied by a low voice humming a melody. It’s unpolished but soothing, like he’s just idly strumming to unwind.

Unable to resist, you knock on his door. The music stops abruptly. “Yeah?” comes his muffled voice.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” you say, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “But that sounded… really nice. Are you working on something?”

The door opens slightly, and Vernon’s face appears. He looks a bit sheepish, his guitar still in his hands. “Oh, uh, thanks. Just messing around.”

“Do you… mind if I listen?” you ask, surprising yourself.

He hesitates for a moment but then steps back, letting you in. His room is sparse, with only a few belongings scattered around—a stack of notebooks on the desk, a small speaker by the window, and a record player in the corner. He sits back on the edge of his bed, cradling the guitar.

“It’s nothing special,” he says, but when he starts playing again, the soft chords fill the room with warmth. You sit cross-legged on the floor, watching as his fingers move effortlessly over the strings.

“Do you write your own stuff?” you ask.

He nods. “Yeah, sometimes. It’s more of a hobby, though. Helps me clear my head.”

You find yourself mesmerized, not just by the music but by the way he seems completely at ease when he plays. It’s like the quiet, reserved Vernon you met earlier fades away, replaced by someone more open and free.

-

12:00 AM – Late-Night Confessions

What starts as one song turns into an impromptu jam session. Vernon hands you a notebook filled with lyrics, asking for your opinion. You’re surprised by how raw and honest his words are, a glimpse into a side of him you didn’t expect.

“These are really good,” you tell him, looking up from the page. “Why don’t you share them with anyone?”

He shrugs, fiddling with the tuning pegs on his guitar. “I don’t know. It’s personal, I guess. And, I mean, who’d want to hear this stuff anyway?”

“Are you kidding?” you say, incredulous. “People would love this. You’re really talented.”

His cheeks flush slightly, and he gives a small, embarrassed laugh. “Thanks. That… means a lot.”

The two of you end up talking well into the night, sharing stories and bits of your lives that you wouldn’t normally share with someone you’d just met. There’s something about the quiet intimacy of the moment that makes it easy to open up. By the time you finally head to bed, you’re struck by how comfortable you feel around him already.

-

Two Weeks Later

Living with Vernon quickly becomes easier than you’d imagined. He’s tidy, respects your space, and, most importantly, he’s just… good company. You find yourself looking forward to the evenings when the two of you sit in the living room, him with his guitar and you with whatever book or project you’re working on.

One night, you’re in the middle of cooking dinner when you hear Vernon humming in the kitchen. He’s scrolling through his phone, absently tapping a rhythm against the counter.

“That’s catchy,” you say, stirring the pot on the stove. “What is it?”

He looks up, startled. “Oh, just something I’ve been working on. It’s not done yet.”

“Can I hear it?”

He hesitates but then nods. Grabbing his guitar from the corner of the room, he plays the melody he’d been humming, adding a few lyrics. It’s rough, but you can hear the potential in it.

“You’ve got to do something with this,” you say. “Seriously, Vernon, this is too good to keep to yourself.”

He laughs softly. “Maybe someday.”

-

Late Night Breakthrough

Weeks turn into months, and your late-night jam sessions become a ritual. One night, Vernon asks you to help him come up with a chorus for a song he’s stuck on. You’re hesitant at first, but he insists, handing you the notebook and encouraging you to try.

“Just write whatever comes to mind,” he says, strumming a few chords. “There’s no wrong answer.”

You take a deep breath and scribble down a few lines, then hand it back to him. He reads them over, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “This is great,” he says, his tone sincere. “Really. Let’s try it.”

As he sings the lyrics you wrote, you can’t help but feel a swell of pride. It’s a small thing, but the fact that he values your input means more than you expected.

-

8:00 PM – The Apartment’s Atmosphere

The apartment feels alive tonight. Vernon’s guitar case leans against the couch, and the coffee table is strewn with lyric-filled notebooks and empty cups of tea. The faint scent of vanilla candles mingles with the cool breeze slipping through the slightly ajar window. It’s a typical scene for you and Vernon, but tonight, there’s a new energy.

After weeks of brainstorming, tweaking melodies, and scribbling down lyric ideas at odd hours, one of Vernon’s songs finally feels complete. It’s a quiet victory, marked by his satisfied grin as he strums the last chord. You’re sitting cross-legged on the rug, your fingers resting on a notebook, feeling like you’ve been part of something bigger than yourself.

“It’s done,” Vernon announces, his voice light with relief. “I can’t believe it.”

“You’ve been working on it for so long,” you say, your grin mirroring his. “It’s amazing, Vernon. Seriously.”

He leans back, running a hand through his hair, his expression softening. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All those late nights and random ideas you threw out? They made a difference.”

Your heart swells at the compliment. “I just threw out words. You’re the one who turned them into something magical.”

He shakes his head. “It’s a team effort.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence as the final chord lingers in the air. You both sit there for a moment, basking in the shared accomplishment.

-

9:30 PM – The Idea

“You should share it,” you blurt out, breaking the silence.

Vernon’s eyebrows lift slightly, and he sets his guitar down. “Share it? Like, online?”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning forward. “Or perform it. You’ve got talent, Vernon. People need to hear this.”

He hesitates, a shadow of doubt flickering across his face. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s personal. What if people don’t get it? Or worse, what if they hate it?”

“They won’t hate it,” you insist, your voice firm. “And even if some people don’t get it, so what? You wrote this for yourself, right? That’s what matters.”

He stares at you for a moment, his gaze searching. Then he nods slowly, a small smile playing at his lips. “Maybe you’re right.”

-

10:15 PM – Planning the Debut

You and Vernon brainstorm how to share his music with the world. He’s not one for grand gestures, so you settle on something intimate: a live stream. It’s low-pressure, just him and his guitar in the cozy apartment, playing for whoever stumbles upon the video.

“We could set up here,” you suggest, gesturing to the corner of the living room by the window. “The lighting’s nice, and it’ll feel authentic.”

Vernon nods, his confidence growing as the plan takes shape. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

You spend the next hour setting up. The coffee table gets cleared, fairy lights are strung along the windowsill, and Vernon’s guitar is tuned to perfection. You even dig out an old tripod for his phone, ensuring the angle captures him and the warm glow of the room.

As the clock ticks closer to showtime, Vernon’s nervous energy becomes palpable. He paces the room, muttering lyrics under his breath and shaking out his hands.

“You’re going to be great,” you reassure him, placing a hand on his arm. “Just play like it’s one of our late-night jams. No pressure.”

He takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

-

11:30 PM - The Performance

The live stream starts, and for the first few moments, it’s just Vernon sitting in front of the camera, his guitar resting on his lap. The viewer count is low at first, just a handful of usernames popping up in the corner of the screen. But as he begins to play, his voice steady and rich, more people join.

You watch from behind the camera, your heart swelling with pride. He’s in his element, completely absorbed in the music. The chat fills with comments, all variations of “Wow,” “This is amazing,” and “I needed this tonight.”

When he finishes the song, he looks up at the screen, his lips curving into a shy smile. “Thanks for listening, everyone,” he says, his voice soft. “This one’s been a long time coming.”

He plays a few more songs, the energy in the room shifting from nerves to something more celebratory. By the time he wraps up, the viewer count has climbed into the hundreds, and the chat is overflowing with messages of encouragement.

-

11:55 PM – Post-Show Glow

After the stream ends, Vernon leans back on the couch, letting out a long exhale. “That was… intense,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“You killed it,” you reply, plopping down beside him. “Seriously, Vernon, you were amazing. Did you see how many people tuned in?”

He grins, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Yeah, that was wild. I didn’t expect so many people to care.”

“Well, they do,” you say, nudging his shoulder. “And now they’re all going to be waiting for your next song.”

He laughs, the sound light and carefree. “No pressure, right?”

-

12:15 AM – Reflection

The apartment has settled into a comfortable quiet again, the adrenaline of the live stream fading into a warm afterglow. Vernon sits cross-legged on the floor, strumming his guitar idly, while you stretch out on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

“Thanks for pushing me to do this,” he says after a while, his voice breaking the silence. “I don’t think I would’ve done it without you.”

You turn your head to look at him, a soft smile on your lips. “You would’ve done it eventually. I just sped up the process.”

He shakes his head. “No, really. You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. That means more than you know.”

His words settle over you, warm and genuine, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The only sound is the soft strumming of his guitar and the distant hum of the city outside.

Vernon looks up from his guitar, his gaze meeting yours. His voice is soft but steady when he adds, “…And I don’t want to lose what we have.”

His words hang in the air, and you suddenly realize just how much these late-night moments have come to mean to both of you.

As the clock strikes midnight, you feel a quiet sense of contentment. This is what home feels like—a place where late-night jams turn into something magical, where shared dreams and quiet moments become the foundation of something bigger.

And as Vernon starts to hum a new melody, you can’t help but wonder what’s next for the two of you—as roommates, as friends, and maybe, just maybe, as something more.

✴︎🪷𓈒͏ུུ̑̑. ཉ — by @fruvittea