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godmadeaterribleerror · 3 months ago

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I Never Want It To Be Enough

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, pre-established relationship, smut (fingering, p in v sex), light fluff, humor.

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have a date night, and it ends exactly how you wanted it to.

Author's Note: Request from @redwinexsupernova! I love requests where I can just be horny and it's not weird.

Word Count: 2.5k

It’s rare, that you get to go out for a good reason. Most of the time it’s your losses being drowned, or a fight being ignored, or making yourself feel a little less after a hunt.

But this is just for fun. This is because Sam’s visiting Eileen, so you and Dean were left alone with orders not to burn anything down please.

And you never get date nights. Real date nights. You sit on the roof of the Impala together, and eat at a diners with Sam back at the motel, and watch movies in the Dean Cave, but those don’t count. You love doing them, but they’re not date nights. Those are things you did with Dean before you started dating. The only change is that now you’re curled into Dean’s side on the roof, your knee is pressed against his in the diner, and you’re in his lap during the movie.

And you wanted a date night. A real one.

Dean tried to convince you to do dinner at a fancy restaurant.

You told him that was stupid.

“No, it’s not.” He’d frowned at you from across the kitchen. “That like, what normal people do, sweetheart. They wear fancy clothes and get drunk on bad wine, then go home and fuck.”

You’d raised your brows. “You planning on fucking me tonight, Winchester?”

He’d rolled his eyes. “You know I am, smartass. That’s the whole reason people do these things, to fuck.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is-“

“People go on dates because they want to have fun. With the person they love.” You’d given him a pointed look. “Are you going to have fun wearing a suit and eating food you can’t pronounce?”

Dean had given you a slightly pouting frown. “I can pronounce it. Sound it out. Look it up and watch a freakin’ video.”

“I know you can, baby. Good job.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Answer my question. Will you have fun?”

Dean had sighed, and shaken his head. “No. It’ll be fucking stupid. Not you.” His eyes had widened slightly. “You’re fucking awesome-“

“Yeah, I know.” You’d given him a sweet smile, and his hair was still a little mussed from sleep, and he was wearing his dumb, adorable hotdog pants, and you’d kind of wanted to jump his bones right there. “How about a bar?”

He’d wrinkled his nose. “We always go to bars.”

“But I don’t always dress slutty at bars.”

Dean had coughed. “Oh?”

You’d been able to see his grip tighten around his mug, and from there all it had taken was a humming agreement and flutter of your lashes for you to win. You’d just go to a bar for your date.

But you are a little worried about Dean. You don’t think he’s blinked since you showed him the promised outfit, and he’s barely even touching his food.

“We should go home.” He grunts suddenly, and you frown at him.

“We’ve been here for like, thirty minutes-“

“And that’s a good amount of time. Solid. Thirty’s a strong number, right? Let’s go-“

“Dean-“

“C’mon,” Dean almost whines your name leaning over the table until you can see the entirety of his lust-blow expression. “Don’t make me beg, babygirl. I gotta skip to the fucking part-“

“You do not get to skip to the fucking part.” You shrug, swapping your beer bottle with Dean’s. “You’ll like this one better.”

“But-“

“Earn it, Dean.” You give him a soft smile, just so he knows that if he does beg—or even just picks you up and carries you back to the car—you’ll go without a fight, because you love him, and he’s not wrong.

The fucking part is the best part of the evening.

But Dean’s eyes narrow, and he takes the challenge.

He really earns it.

Sex isn’t even brought up for the rest of the night. Dean orders all your favorite foods, and jokes and talks and keeps his hand securely over yours the whole night. Even when you move onto a game of darts you know you’re going to lose, Dean keeps his hand tangled with yours.

It’s bad form, to play darts holding someone’s hand.

You don’t really care.

And he beats you. You knew he was going to beat you.

You’d been counting on it.

Because Dean spins you around in his arms, pinning you to his chest and grinning down at you with a smug look, topped only by the pure hunger you can see in his eyes.

“What’d I win, sweetheart?” He drawls near your ear, and you give him the same sweet smile from before.

“You wanna go home?”

Something flashes over Dean’s face, and you’re moving before you’re even fully sure what’s happening. He’s almost carrying you back to the Impala, your food and drinks left on the table, your-

“Dean, the bill-“

“Don’t care.” He grunts, digging his keys out of his pocket as he herds you across the parking lot. “Their fries were shit anyway. Need to get you somewhere with doors-“

“Doors-“

“And walls.” Dean seems to be mostly talking to himself at this point. “Maybe- Yeah. That’s- C’mon.”

You only stare at him, trying to find a will to tell him to calm down.

You don’t succeed.

He’s maneuvering you so carefully into the passenger’s seat, and you can see the bulge in his jeans, and you want it inside of you. It’s taking all of that same will to stop yourself from making him pull over, so you can climb into his lap and ride him until your legs don’t work anymore and he has to carry you to bed.

It doesn’t help that he’s keeping a big, firm hand planted on your thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb on your bare skin. And there’s the clenched jaw and set look of determination that usually comes with a hunt, but it’s all focused on you, and you can feel the ache between your legs becomes unbearable when he starts to squeeze-

“Dean.” Your voice is barely a breath, and his jaw tics. “Please.”

“Hold on.” He grunts, and the Impala is being pushed to limits that are usually reserved for someone’s about to die.

But Dean takes good care of his things. Baby’s engine doesn’t even whine, and you get soothing, low promises and strong touches that are driving you right out of your mind. Teasing fingers up your inner thigh and one knuckle brushing right over your clit, just as two broad fingers trace over the outline of you pussy through your panties-

“Dean.” You gasp, shooting him a glare, and he’s just grinning like he won the fucking lottery.

“So wet for me.” He hums your name, his fingers pressing a little harder until your back is arching off the bench. “Think I’ll even need to prep you, sweetheart? Or is this tight little pussy going to just fucking take me?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You mutter, squeezing your eyes shut. The combination of Dean’s amazing, handsome insufferable face in the low light of the street, mixed with his gravely, taunting voice is going to make you cum before anything even happens. “You- God-“

“I know, babygirl.” He mutters, landing one quick slap on your pussy before moving away, why is he moving away- “Don’t move.”

You nod a little dumbly, and you only realize that you’ve parked when you hear doors opening and closing, and oh, God, here it comes-

Dean hauls you out of the Impala, pulling you up into a long, rough kiss as he closes the door behind you, groping at your ass while his tongue pushes between your lips and you open for him with a moan.

“Fuck- Let’s go-“

Dean start to pull you into the bunker, and you’re eyes blink open as you follow without question.

“Sammy’ll be home soon.” He’s mostly talking to himself again, as you move down the stairs. “Can’t fuck you where he’s gonna see, sweetheart. Nobody but me gets to hear all those pretty fucking sounds you make, when I fuck you stupid and good on my cock-“

You trip a little. Dean steadies you without breaking pace, all but carrying you down the hall to your room.

“Need you,” he mutters, and you’re a little worried he’s reverting to caveman brain. “You’re so fucking hot, baby, I need to- C’mon-“

The door is kicked open, Dean’s mouth crashes down to yours in a sloppy, open-mouth kiss, and you’ve barely had a chance to moan or plead before Dean’s walking you backwards into the wall.

“This,” he mutters against your lips, tracing his fingers up your thigh until he’s playing with the hem of your too-short date-night skirt. “Has been driving me fucking insane. Kept seeing those lace panties flashing me, begging me to rip them off, shit-“

You drop your mouth to Dean’s neck, kissing and sucking over his stubble and moaning against his skin, and Dean’s fingers push aside your underwear and shove into your cunt without warning.

“Son of a bitch,” he groans your name as you start to grind onto his hand, his fingers pumping and scissoring so fucking slowly. “That desperate for it, sweetheart?”

You nod, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses over his jaw. “You’re the one who was begging earlier,” you mumble in his ear, and Dean chuckles.

“Guess I was, yeah. But,” his thumb presses on your clit, setting you on fucking fire as the speed of his fingers picks up, and you start to scratch at his back.

“Dean-“

“It sounds like someone else is begging now.” He drawls, and you moan again when his free hand snakes under your shirt, palming at your breasts until you’re mostly seeing stars. “Feel good, baby? Want some more?”

“Yes.” You gasp. “Yes, please.”

Dean almost growls, ripping off your shirt and starting to kiss and bite a line down your throat, and you barely manage to stop him before his lips wander onto your tits.

“Door.”

He frowns at you. “Wha-“

“The door, Dea- Fuck-“ He won’t stop fingering you as you talk, and he’s starting to crook and rub against the deep, spongey spot inside of you. “Close the door-“

You hear it slam, Dean’s pace faltering for only a second, and then his mouth is on your nipple. Licking and sucking and nipping as his thumb works your clit, and you’re barely able to stand up straight as he moans against you, and all those stars are drawing closer-

“Dean, I’m-“ You take a sharp breath as his thumb starts to flick. “Shit, baby, I’m gonna cum-“

Then he’s gone, and your arousal is starting to drip down your thigh as his fingers leave you, and you’re a little dizzy so you’re not fully sure what’s happening. You can’t manage to swallow your protesting whine as you linger right on the edge without release, and then you hear Dean’s voice, rough and deep in your ear.

“Want you cumming on my cock, sweetheart. Need to feel it. Think you can do that for me?”

You nod, your breathing still heavy and vision a little blurry with pleasure, and when you blink at Dean through your daze, you realize he’s keep you pressed carefully against the wall as he strips, and it’s the only reason you don’t fall over.

“Dean,” you mumble, watching his cock bounce a little against his leg as he shuffles out of his jeans. “The bed’s behind you.”

“Don’t care.” He grunts, letting his free hand rubs from circles on your hip as he stroke himself, scanning over you with a dark gaze. “You need to hold on.”

Your brows raise, a teasing smile creeping over your face. “Do I now, Mr. Winchester?”

Dean’s lips twitch, but you could swear you feel his cock jump as he starts to rub it between your pussy lips. “Yeah, baby. If I do my fuckin’ job right, you’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow, so hold on.”

You swallow, and your arms are barely around his neck before you’re letting out a high scream of Dean, his cock slamming right into you in on movement.

This is the caveman. This is raw and primal and fucking desperate, Dean’s cock slamming in and out of you at an almost uneven pace, his mouth sloppy and hungry over yours. One of your legs his pulled up to wrap around his waist so he can hit you impossible fucking deeper, and he’d been right. If you hadn’t been holding, you would’ve collapsed on the floor just from the sheer force of how he’s fucking you, and combined with the way his dick is making lewd, beautiful sounds with every thrust and the head of him in pressing so deep into you that you’re seeing the fucking galaxy, you might have melted into a puddle.

He’s eats all your sounds like a man starved, drawing an embarrassing combination of pleas and whines from your chest as you scratch at his neck, grunting and moaning himself as your cunt squeezes and flutters around him.

“Jesus, baby girl,” Dean groans as you start to desperately grind against him, trying to time it with when he’s hitting that sensitive spot that makes the world all color and Dean. “Feel so fucking good, taking my cock so well, made for me to fuck you all pretty and happy-“

“Dean,” you moan as he angles you a little further, your clit starting to rub against the base his cock whenever he bottoms out. “So full, feels so fucking good, you’re- Wanna cum on your cock, please-“

He pulls your tongue between his teeth as he rolls his hips in a circle, his movements starting to grow uneven and feral as his dick twitches inside of you.

“God-“

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” He growls down your throat, and that’s all it takes.

Your back arches off the wall as your body shakes with your orgasm, your pussy pulsing and tightening around Dean as he fucks your through it, moaning your name in your ear as you tug at his hair.

“Son of a- You feel so fucking good, baby, I gotta- Where do you-“

You nod, kissing him softly, still a little lightheaded from your own orgasm. “Inside, Dean.” You mumble against him, and he groans, his pace hitting a new, unforgiving speed that sends another, smaller orgasm rolling through your body.

It seems to send him over the edge, your body shivering from the pleasure as your head falls onto his shoulder, and a needy whine escaping your lips. Dean slams home with a shout of your name, a few more jerked movements coming as he empties himself into your cunt.

He’s dripping down your thighs and onto the floor as you both catch your breath, but you don’t really care. You’re still full, still stuffed with Dean’s cock while he pants against you, resting his chin against your head as you breathe him in.

“We should do more date nights.” You mumble, and Dean chuckles.

“Whatever you want, baby.” His presses a soft kiss to your brow, hauling you a little further up his chest so he can carry you to bed. “Long as it ends with us here.”

“Fucking?”

“Together.”

End Note: Men are so hot I wish they were real.

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ogviceversa · 6 months ago

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Carter’s Body Is A Party

Dan:

Ahhh shit! I think I fucked up. The crazy thing is— this isn’t even my body. It belongs to this 21 year old kid name Carter. Kinda a long story but I basically talked him into switching bodies with me. Well okay, I know how that sounds! Let me correct myself we mutually agreed to the swap but I initiated it. You see I’m 39 years old, single, handsome I might add. But when I met Carter, I felt like I had a chance to really live carefree again.

We were in a bar when I first laid my eyes on Carter a couple weeks back. I was sitting alone, I frequent this bar a lot since it’s in walking distance to my place and he was sitting by himself as well… l kept noticing that he was staring at me which felt good. He’s a good looking young guy. He looked liked the kinda guy I’d beg for attention from at his age.

Eventually he came up to me and offered to get me a drink. I tried to turn him down but he was so persistent. After a while of him flirting with me really hard, I decided to let my guard down.

We talked for hours at that bar, taking shot after shot. I eventually invited him to come back to my place.

That is where I had the bright drunken idea of us swapping bodies.

“Carter, you are sooooo fine,” I said to him drunkenly. “I think I want to be you…let’s swap bodies!! It would be sooo hot!”

He didn’t believe me at first but then I pulled out a magical ring that’s been passed down through my family.

We started to make out a bit and we both ended up stripping off all of our clothes down to our underwear.

I look at Carter’s young face… he said to me, “fuck, I hope this is real. I wanna be able to touch your body every morning.”

My dick got hard at the thought of being able to do the same in his. Carter ran his fingers through my chest hair and says, “you’re such a fine ass man Dan. I’d do anything…”

“Fuck well I’m about to make both of our dreams come true. You ready?,” I say putting on the ring.

“Fuck yeah!”

As I slid on the ring, I said his name aloud. I just a split second both of us passed out.

As I started to come too, I immediately knew I was Carter. I sat up and saw Carter filling up my chest.

I thought he would be freaked out. Instead he seemed so amazed.

I watch him navigate slowly with my hands… touching my chest, my nipples…

He worked his way down until eyes met my dick which was about to pop out of my underwear at any moment

“can I?,” he said with the softest tone.

“It’s your body right now.”

Carter pulled out my dick and began to fondle it in front of me.

I was so turned by his excitement about having my body. I got up and immediately started sucking my body off.

Carter watched me work my own cock for him. I felt my bigger hands run through Carter’s hair.

And I felt him pull back and grab his chin.

“Dan, let’s get in bed.”

I pull off his underwear and saw all of Carter’s naked body for the first time. His cock was long and eager. His pubes were trimmed down (unlike mine) and he had these cute tight balls.

Carter felt up and down his junk for me.

“Does your hands feel good on my cock?,” he says to me with a grin.

“Yeah it does,” I say back to him.

I look down at Carter’s legs and then at his sexy boyish feet.

That’s when Carter began to run my tongue up and down his shaft. I could feel my stubble glide across his ballsack.

“Fuck, I can tell this is going to be a long night!,” I say to him.

Carter and I fucked around for hours. We would take turns edging each other and showing one another how each other’s bodies respond. Neither one of us wanted to cum.

But I was the first one to blow my load. And he came shortly after me.

Both of us laid in bed licking cum off of each other. Shortly after I felt my naked body wrap its arms around me and we cuddled off to sleep.

By morning, we made an agreement. We keep each other’s bodies until one of us says we’re ready to swap back.

Listen, I knew I was going to go back to my life and my body at some point. I was just not prepared for the wild ride of Carter’s life.

I soon found out that was a college student who parties a lot!

I mean the schedule was already made for me. I’d go to his class which was a surprisingly easy for me. And then his friend sends in a text…

“A total rager is going down tonight boys!”

“Who wants to go out and hit the bars?”

“House party at my place tonight!”

It was nonstop and I couldn’t get enough of it.

It took me no time to get to know his friends but I do think it’s because I’m the best looking in the crew and I’m confident several want to get into my pants.

Which I may have let a few of them do so…

Although, they have noticed a difference in me. Which is that I have zero fear of showing off myself, especially this body.

Most nights I’d even refuse to wear a shirt!

I went from constant hook ups, hard core clubbing…

But then we went to a concert and I may have taken it too far…

All of us were having a good time when I came across this handsome guy.

“Sup! My names Carter,” I said to him with a grin.

“Hey, you’re cute. You wanna make out?,” said the handsome stranger.

“Fuck yeah!”

This guy and I made out for a while at the concert. Neither of us gave a fuck about anyone around us.

That’s when I felt him unbuckle my pants…

All I could think of in the back of my head was… am I really about to get my dick sucked out in the open at a concert???

Before I could even think, Carter’s dick was out of his pants and this guy was on his knees.

“Holy shit Carter!” I hear one of his friends say in the background.

The guy sucking me off was sooo good at it. I couldn’t even think straight.

“Dude! Carter!! The police!!!”

The second I came down this guy’s throat, the police came up and caught us red handed.

Luckily, I didn’t get charged with anything. But they did take me to jail along with the other guy.

We both sat quietly the entire ride.

And when they put us in a cell both of us sat awkwardly.

All I could say in that moment was, “man I messed up.”

The guy looked over at me nervously, “I did too Dan.”

It took me a second to register him using my real name.

“Carter?”

“Yeah it’s me…”

“What the fuck??!? Where is my body???”

“Well with this guy… I don’t know. It was a really dumb idea. He came over to your place. I showed him the ring and then the next morning I couldn’t find him in your body. Plus he stole your ring!”

“CARTER!!!”

“I’m sorry!!!”

I watched as the other handsome 20 something, cried his eyes out. I wanted to be so mad at him. But then I remembered just how foolish I’ve been in his body.

Shortly after one of Carter’s friends posted my bail and I ended up doing the same for the actual Carter.

Weeks passed while Carter and I tried our hardest to find my body. But unfortunately we had no luck. Carter and I eventually grew a fondness for each other.

I graduated college the following spring and Carter got a nice job with his body. It helped that the stranger that took my body was already somewhat successful in life.

Both of managed to get a nice place together. Although life seems kind of boring now, we do frequent a club on an occasion.

#body swap #male body swap #body theft #male tf

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innerfare · 9 months ago

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Smutty Shanks Headcanons

Summary: a collection of NSFW Shanks headcanons

Genre: pure smut

CW: oral sex, penetrative sex, slutty Shanks

———

Has a habit of asking people to join his crew when he wants to sleep with them. Beckman no longer wastes his breath trying to stop it, has simply resigned himself to the reality that his captain is a whore because… well, he is a whore.

More than happy to share with others.

Has so much game, it’s unreal. Nobody had to teach this man how to pick people up at a bar, he was just born that way. And he has perhaps the most colorful body count of anyone in any of the seas, a list of past lovers that include pirates, marines, aristocrats, bureaucrats, and many a bar maid (there’s a green-haired one in the East Blue whom he is particularly sweet on and often finds himself reminiscing about). Gender, appearance, profession- none of this matters. If Red Hair Shanks has you in his sights, he’ll have you in his bed soon enough.

Not the biggest dick, but above average and on the thicker side; definitely has a nice curve in it. Has never manscaped in his life, would be deeply offended if you suggested he should. He’d probably be offended if you shave, too. This man likes it natural and nasty.

Kisses like he’s trying to swallow your tongue. Seriously, the messiest, sloppiest kisser, aims to swap as much saliva as possible with you; the type to share chewing gum with you. This holds true for when he goes down on you, too.

Speaking of going down on you, he’s religious about it. He swears your pussy is a hangover cure and he’ll have a headache all day if he doesn’t get to taste you. You’ll end up with a rash on your inner thighs from his stubble, but if that’s the case, he’ll just bend you over and lick your cunt from behind to give your inner thighs a break. As much as the stubble bothers you at first, you quickly reach a point where you don’t think you’d be able to cum if a clean-shaven man put his face between your legs.

Sometimes gets a case of whiskey dick (happens far more often than he’d ever admit), but he always makes it up to you come morning- to the point you’ve assured him repeatedly there’s no need (help, you’re so sore), but he feels he has something to prove. His whiskey dick isn’t even straight up dysfunction because he can still get hard, he just can’t cum, so even though he’ll fuck you good and make you cum, he feels like you haven’t been fucked properly until he’s finished inside you.

Has a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde thing going on in that there are two versions of him in bed: 1) the easygoing drunk who is more than happy to lay back and let you do all the work while he watches your tits bounce (Shanks is a titties man, it’s practically canon), and 2) the pirate emperor who will pound mercilessly into you from behind, hands digging into your hips so hard they leave bruises.

You always know when the pirate emperor is going to be the man waiting for you in bed that night based on how many jokes he cracks over dinner/drinks. If he’s in rare form, making even more jokes than usual, leaving the entire crew keeled over in laughter, he’ll be bending you over and snapping his hips against yours for a solid hour; basically, if Lucky Roux laughs until he cries, you are about to get fucked. Once you notice this pattern, you realize he makes eye contact with you while the crew is distracted by whatever joke he just told, and he always has a wicked gleam in his eye, as if his Conqueror’s Haki might just rear its powerful head.

Pirate emperor Shanks is willing to risk it all, too. He’s not going to wait until his cabin door is shut to start tearing your clothes off. He’s not going to tell you to keep it down in case the crew overhears. He’s not going to double check you took your birth control that morning. He’s just going to fuck you, and you’re just going to take it.

That being said, he’s never rough with you when you blow him. Blowjobs actually bring out the sweetest version of Shanks there is, the version who tells you to pace yourself and smiles brightly when he cums. He’ll hold your hair back for you, being very careful not to tangle it, and be sure not to thrust his hips forward; not into face fucking.

Has the most ridiculous nicknames for you outside the bedroom, and these carry over into the bedroom, too. His favorite is to call you his red panda. Sometimes uses these silly nicknames to break some of the tension.

Your most common position is with you on top, but his favorite position is prone bone. He likes your body flat against the mattress with his on top of you while he bottoms out inside. He’ll make you cross your ankles, too, so he can get even deeper.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece smut #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #red hair shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks smut #shanks headcanons

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mysteryshoptls · 11 months ago

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SSR Floyd Leech - Mermaid Fin Voice Lines

Mermaid Fin Floyd does not have a vignette.

When Summoned: If the dream world's that great... Then I'll make sure to put you to sleep gently...

Summon Line: Aww, poor things... Sucks that your boat flipped over. I feel sooo bad.

Groooovy!!: If the real Jade ever ends up sayin' those weird things... That time for sure I'll drown him at the bottom of the ocean.

Home: Yup, this form's way easier to move around in!

Swap Looks: Should I give ya a good squeeeeeeeze?

Home Idle 1: I wonder what kinda stuff other guys're dreaming? I bet some of 'em are dreaming up real bangers. Ahah!

Home Idle 2: Lookin' at it next to you all, I can see just how looong my tailfin is. ...Or maybe it's more like your human legs are way too short?

Home Idle 3: Man, I guess I wanna get back to school already. I miss my clothes and shoes and hats... 'Cause surface fashion's just what I'm into right now.

Home Idle - Login: Crazy things can happen in dreams, so they can get pretty exciting, don'tcha think? There's no way they'd ever be lamer than the real world.

Home Idle - Groovy: I get so pissed off just thinkin' 'bout that version of me in Jade's dream. That was the worst. Wish I coulda pummeled him, too.

Home Tap 1: What if I had never come to land? I mean, there's a ton of fun stuff to do under the sea. Don't think I woulda been bored or nothin'.

Home Tap 2: Your guys's timing sure sucked, Shrimpy. If you'd come earlier, I totally coulda taken you around to all the different places I went.

Home Tap 3: 'Cause I got so bored in my dream, it made me realize how fun the school is. Bein' around so many hilarious guys is pretty awesome.

Home Tap 4: The troubled mer was given a trial to complete, huh... See, that's why the Sea Witch's so great. It ain't fun if all your wishes come true that easily.

Home Tap 5: Why're ya just starin' at me? Huh, my earfins're catchin' your eye? I mean, I guess you surface folk don't have 'em, but are they that weird?

Home Tap - Groovy: What, I was all lethargic and not scary at all in my dream? Uh-huh, well, sorry 'bout that. How about I play with ya niiice and hard to make up for that?

Duo: [FLOYD]: Might not be anythin' for you to do, Azul. [AZUL]: I don't mind one bit, Floyd.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #twst floyd #twst azul #twst translation #mention: jade

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elliesngirl · 7 months ago

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Assigned to you

Nerd! Loser! Ellie Williams x Fem! Popular! Reader

WC: 1.6k (sorry it’s short, I’ll make the next ones longer)

Warnings: None

Part 1: Prev/Next

Let me know it you wanna be in the taglist!

—

The school buzzed with its usual chaotic energy—students laughing, lockers slamming, and shoes squeaking against polished floors.

For Ellie Williams, it was sensory overload, a daily reminder of how much she despised high school. She kept her head down as she weaved through the bustling hallway, her headphones perched securely on her head, though no music played.

They weren’t for entertainment; they were for survival, a barrier between her and the world she tried so hard to avoid.

Ellie stopped at her locker, tugging at the handle with her hoodie-covered hands.

Her textbooks were lined up like soldiers, each black cover marked with a tiny sticker: red for maths, blue for physics, green for history.

Ellie loved organization, and she hated bright colors, so this system was her perfect balance. She grabbed the books she needed, carefully closed her locker, and slipped her hands back into her pockets.

Maths, physics, and history made up the start of her day, and while most people would find that lineup miserable,

Ellie didn’t mind. She liked the logic of it, the predictability. There was no guessing, no group work, just numbers, facts, and dates. That didn’t mean she didn’t feel the pressure, though.

An upcoming maths exam loomed over her, and the constant chatter from her classmates made it hard to concentrate.

Ellie clenched her jaw, her pencil tapping rhythmically against the desk as she tried to block out the noise. She had to focus—she couldn’t afford to miss anything if she wanted to get into a good university.

Art was her true escape, though. Later in the day, when she could finally swap equations and historical timelines for her sketchbook, Ellie felt the tension ease from her shoulders.

She loved sketching more than anything else. It was her way of expressing what she couldn’t say, of creating worlds far removed from her own.

Meanwhile, across the school, your day was starting very differently. You strolled into the building a full thirty minutes late, your heels clicking confidently against the tile floor. You were the complete opposite of Ellie—where she avoided attention, you thrived in it. Ellie dressed in dull, baggy clothes, while you dressed in pinks and mini skirts.

Walking next to your best friend, Olivia, you laughed loudly, drawing the stares and whispers of your peers as if you didn’t notice. But you noticed. You always noticed.

“I don’t understand why Jake even tried hitting on you,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I mean, you’re so out of his league it’s embarrassing.”

You giggled, brushing her comment off with a playful shrug. “Oh, don’t be mean. He’s sweet… in his own way.”

“Sweet doesn’t make him your type,” Olivia said, raising an eyebrow.

You just smiled, dodging the conversation as you reached your locker. Unlike Ellie’s, yours was a chaotic mess of papers, pens, and random odds and ends. You grabbed whatever notebook and pen were closest, not bothering to check if they were the right ones for your next class. Organization wasn’t exactly your strong suit.

“Anyway, I’ll see you later,” you said, waving Olivia off as you made your way to the gym for PE. You didn’t bother changing; your teacher had long given up trying to get you to participate.

Instead, you sat on the bleachers, scrolling through TikTok, sending snaps, and texting your friends about weekend plans.

The attention didn’t faze you. You were used to the way people’s heads turned at the sound of your heels, the way their conversations paused briefly as you passed by.

Back in maths, Ellie was growing more agitated by the minute. The constant chatter of her classmates made it nearly impossible to focus on the teacher’s explanations.

Her hands clenched into fists under the desk, her mind racing with formulas and deadlines. The bell rang, and Ellie shot out of her seat, meticulously gathering her things and heading straight to her next class.

You walked out of the gym and your head quickly shot to the side quickly when you saw Ellie rushing to get to class, it made you giggle as you shook your head, mumbling “Nerd.”

The two of you had passed each other in the hallway before, maybe even brushed shoulders once or twice, but neither of you had ever really noticed the other.

Your next class went by really quickly, now you have history, you slowly walked to history because you really didn’t feel like showing up, but you knew you had to.

When you walked into the classroom, your eyes went straight to Ellie, she was sitting at the front of the classroom, she was sitting up straight and listening carefully to what the teacher was saying, you rolled your eyes and shoved past her and sat at the back of the room, putting your headphones in and ignoring the teacher.

“For the next 3 months, you will be working on a project with a partner, the two of you will choose an historical event and make a physical poster and a presentation,” The teacher exclaims, the students roll their eyes and already plan who they want to be with.

The teacher interrupted them with something all students hated hearing, “I will be assigning your partners.”

Louder groans were heard, and everyone rolled their eyes as the teacher began to list out names. “Dina and James, Vanessa and Lily, Emma and Olivie, Kai and Mike, Ellie and Y/n.” The teacher announced and everyone started moving to be with their partner.

Ellie slowly walks towards you, and sits next to you, but your head doesn’t move, she coughs to try and get your attention but you still don’t move, so she slowly moves your hand to tap your hand on the shoulder.

You take your airpod out and roll your eyes, when you make eye contact with ellie. “Umm, what?” you ask, Ellie fiddles with her thumb and index finger, looking down shyly, “we are partners for our project..”

You take your other airpod out and put it in the case, not saying anything to Ellie, she sighs saying, “look, I really need a good mark, I can do all the work if you want me to.”

You look at Ellie with an annoyed expression, “You think I can’t do it?” You ask, Ellie quickly shakes her head, scratching the back of her neck, “No! No! That’s not what Ii said!” She exclaims in a panic, making you huff and roll your eyes, “It’s what you meant.”

“No!” Ellie yells, catching the attention of everyone in the classroom, as they stare at her, her cheeks go red from embarrassment and she tries to hide her face with her hoodie. “Chill out, I’m messing with you, but I still want to do the work, my parents would kill me if I get another bad grade.” You say, Ellie’s eyes go wide with excitement.

“Great!” She says loudly, but then gets embarrassed again, “I mean great as in- I’m glad you’d join me! not great as in your parents killing you..” Ellie quickly confirms. You giggle, which makes Ellies cheeks grow more red.

“Anyway, Let me give you my info so we can plan when to do this project.” Ellie nods her head, taking out her notebook and pen to write it down. “Do you have snap?” You ask, Ellie quickly shakes her head.

“Insta.” Ellie nods her head, “What’s your username?” You ask, already having your phone out, ready to put her username in. “Umm..Lemme just type it.” Ellie tries to reach out for your phone but you move your arms away and wait for her to say her username.

Ellie looks down at her hands and quietly says “Ellie_theDino” You look back at her confused, not hearing her, “What?” Ellie sighs, saying it louder so you can hear her “Ellie_theDino..”

You type in the username and it’s the first page that pops up, a private account with 43 followers, a profile picture of sharks and a bio that says all her favourite things. Sharks, Dinosaurs, Spiderman and women

The bell rings and you quickly get up, saying to Ellie quickly “I requested you.” Ellie nods, “I’ll follow you when I get home, and I will message you about the details.” Ellie says and you nod quickly and exit the classroom.

Taglist

@vahnilla

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fayes-fics · 1 month ago

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To Know You… [Benophie]

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Baek/Beckett

Summary: Benedict knows Sophie, perhaps better than anyone. But does he know himself well enough to know what he truly wants, before it’s too late?

Warnings: none really… fluffy fluff. Childhood friends, class differences, masquerade balls (yes, plural), marriage mart shenanigans, proposals, Benedict being adorable while also a complete dumbass.

Word Count: 10.4k

Authors Note: Benophie remix of this fluff fic to celebrate both @benophieweek and @benophiefest happening this month. Regency AU story, as Sophie's background is different. She was abandoned by her stepmother as a young child, left on a kindly woman's doorstep who raised her with love, nobody aware of her true background/lineage. She has also been a Bridgerton family friend since childhood. POV swaps between Sophie & Benedict. Enjoy <3

I: To Know You….

“I would rather not, Miss Baek,” the young man clips, walking away at a brusque pace.

Sophie sighs and looks down at her feet. Mrs Parsons will be so very disappointed, is all she can think.

—

Benedict may not have heard the words spoken, but even from his vantage point at the other end of the ballroom, he could see the disdainful way the man uttered his parting words to Sophie. It makes anger flare hot in his chest, his fists forming reflexively at his side.

He watches as she casts her gaze downwards, shoulders hunching, folding in on herself physically, as if the rejection for a dance has manifested in a body blow. He feels a pang in his gut—of sympathy, indignance on her behalf and mainly at the injustice of it all. To him, she is a wonderful, intelligent, caring person worthy of a good match. Still, the circumstances of her upbringing seem to stymie her attempts to join so-called ‘polite’ society at every turn…

—

Sophie looks up with a defeated mien until her eyes land on one person who has always been able to ameliorate any of her more morose moods—Benedict Bridgerton. Instantly, she feels lighter. She gives him a polite nod across the crowded room, and, to her delight, he returns it, a hint of a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. It is just so very characteristic of him to offer silent support, to understand, from witnessing a moment of interaction, precisely what she is feeling. A large part of her so wistful that there is no other man quite as nice as him. She has an overwhelming need to leave the stuffy ballroom and catch some air.

Miss Sophie Baek grew up under the tutelage of the kindly, well-heeled doctor’s widow, Mrs Parsons, the third daughter of an Earl, whose house was not far from the vast Bridgerton estate in Kent. The naturally born daughter of nobody quite knows whom, Sophie was taken in as a ward when abandoned upon Mrs Parsons’ doorstep at a mere two years old, just a tag around her neck with that name upon it and a modest case of clothing. The widow’s reputation for kindness towards young waifs and strays is likely why poor little Sophie was left there. Fortunately, it was an event too early in Sophie’s life for her to recall. All she has known her whole life is the woman’s generosity and compassion, raising Sophie as if she were her own.

And now she is of age, Mrs Parsons takes her to events around Kent in the hopes of securing Sophie a respectable husband, the most prestigious of which being tonight’s Hearts and Flowers Ball at Aubrey Hall. The Bridgertons have always been gracious enough to invite local families, those without the means to partake in the London season, to events at their country estate—a benevolence that allows for Sophie’s attendance tonight. It’s just such a pity that the one bachelor Mrs Parsons was so very keen for her to meet, one Mr Reeves, just rebuffed her so thoroughly.

She glances down at the remaining empty slots on the dance card tied to her wrist and sighs again. Now that she is out on the terrace in the fresh evening air, the light breeze is at least a partial balm, allowing her to recover from the sting of rejection away from the hubbub of the ballroom.

“I will never understand how the men of this county can consider themselves anything approaching mannered.”

Sophie would know that refined voice anywhere. It haunts her dreams. Just the sound of it making her ribs tighten. She turns to see Benedict sauntering towards her, two drinks in hand, that sympathetic smile still in place.

“You are far better off without such rudeness,” he attests wryly as he pulls up beside her, arching an eyebrow for her entertainment.

“You are far too kind, Mr Bridgerton,” she answers, taking the glass he offers with a meek smile, trying not to let her ardent admiration for him be too evident.

“Mr Bridgerton?!? What happened to BenBen?” he teases gently, recalling her childhood name for him when she was a mere four and he was nine.

“We are at a formal event; I should address you properly, should I not?” she replies playfully, a warmth spreading inside as it always does when she gets the chance to have a witty, convivial exchange with him.

By gosh, if there is one man to whom Sophie would pledge herself without hesitation, it is him. But, of course, he is the second son of an illustrious family. To think she would have any chance to win his heart would be as likely as a future king to marry a commoner. Still, a girl can dream…

“At least call me Benedict, Skylark,” he winks over his wine glass as he takes a sip.

Butterflies erupt in her tummy at the affectionate nickname he has used since she was small, having to avert her eyes to avoid blushing deeply.

Just as Benedict goes to speak again, his brother, the Viscount, materialises at his side. Looking to all intents and purposes as if he is trying to escape the ball as much as Sophie is.

“Mother is best avoided tonight, brother,” Anthony warns sagely, taking a large gulp of his champagne. “She is under the erroneous impression I am suddenly in want of a wife.”

Sophie can't stop the giggle that bubbles up from within at his wry observation of his predicament.

“Hello, Sophie,” he greets warmly, just noticing she is also there, his face morphing into a youthful, playful grin.

If Benedict is the husband she has always dreamed of, Anthony is the elder brother she has always yearned for. In fact, that is always how he has treated her, akin to Eloise and Daphne, who she sometimes grew up playing with, being of similar age.

“Hello, Anthony,” she chimes back. “How was the hunt earlier? Did the infamous Bridgerton brothers kill another prized stag?” she inquires, keen to engage both of them for as long as they will entertain her. Just being around them always lifts her spirits to no end.

—

Benedict observes Sophie as she listens intently to Anthony’s recounting of the earlier hunt, impressed by her resilience. He has no doubts any other woman would feign an attack of the vapours had a man rejected her so harshly. But here she is, politely listening to his brother’s boasting, even though he can tell she is hurting inside.

Perhaps it helps that the snub went primarily unnoticed. Sophie is unknown to the Ton; any witnesses likely dismissing it as the business of ‘country folk’ unworthy of note. Which, frankly, he could scoff at, seeing as he holds her in higher regard than all of the other attendees combined.

“How about you?” Anthony ends his story with a question to Sophie, interrupting Benedict’s train of thought. “How has your experience been at our fine event this evening?”

“Oh, the house is splendidly decorated and the music wonderful,” she obfuscates behind flattery. Anthony appears to buy it, but Benedict sees behind the facade, the flame behind her usually bright gaze dimming a little, making something ache in him to see it.

Damn that idiot for ruining her evening! This just won’t do…

—

Sophie can feel Benedict’s eyes upon her as she responds abstractly to Anthony.

“Miss Baek here is too polite to say it, but she was treated harshly by that young Reeves chap from Tenterden,” Benedict edifies as she bows her head, embarrassed. “Let’s be sure to rescind his invitation to future events, brother,” he appends with a surly tone.

“Duly noted,” Anthony nods sincerely, a brush of confusion flitting over his face regarding his brother's vehemence.

“No, there is no need…” Sophie begins to protest weakly but halts mid-sentence under the intensity of Benedict’s gaze.

“I bore witness. Believe me, He shall not darken our door again,” he states firmly.

It appears the matter is very much decided, and she doesn’t want to put up much of a fight, seeing as it ultimately benefits her. She does, however, want to bathe in the warm glow inside whenever Benedict defends her. It's wonderful to have someone looking out for her, especially one so handsome and kind.

—

Two days later, Sophie is taking afternoon tea with Mrs Parsons at the local tearoom when Benedict breezes in, looking so majestic dressed in Bridgerton blues that she grinds to a halt. Luckily, he has not seen her as he makes a beeline for the counter.

“‘Tis rude to stare, my dear,” Mrs Parsons lectures sotto voce, nodding to her teacup, frozen in mid-air.

Sophie shakes her head a touch and places said item back in its saucer as Mrs Parsons turns briefly to look at what or who caught her attention. Then she reaches out, her lace-gloved hand gently patting Sophie’s.

“It would be prudent to set your sights a little more realistic…” she advises with a sympathetic air. “Not that I fault your choice,” she adds, so quietly at first Sophie is not sure she heard her correctly, but there is a tiny playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Sophie’s mouth falls open fractionally, and she stares as the old lady shrugs. “I may be old, my dear, but I am not blind.”

Well, I never, Mrs Parsons!

Just then, Benedict twists around from speaking to the proprietor, and he sees Sophie. There’s a jolt down her spine as he breaks into a huge smile that claims his whole face. And she almost chokes on her bite of scone as he makes his way to them rather than the exit.

“Good afternoon, Miss Baek, Mrs Parsons!” he greets effusively. “Would it be terribly impolite to ask to join you briefly?”

Mrs Parsons' face is a picture of surprise. “Not at all; the pleasure is ours, Mr Bridgerton,” she responds affably, gesturing to the spare chair at the small round table.

As Benedict sits, Mrs Parsons shoots her ward an incredulous look. It's Sophie’s turn to shrug fractionally.

“Mrs Parsons, I feel it necessary to tell you Mr Reeves was excessively rude to Miss Baek here at the ball, and I wanted to assure you that he will not be welcome at Aubrey Hall again,” he divulges sincerely.

Mrs Parsons looks taken aback and turns to Sophie. “Why did you not tell me, my dear?”

“I-I did not think it necessary…” she twists her mouth into a bashful pout, biting her lip.

“Mr Bridgerton, thank you for bringing this to my attention, and I thank you for your generous offer, but that sort of action does not seem warranted,” Mrs Parsons replies accommodatingly.

“That is what I said…” “That is what she said…”

Sophie and Benedict speak in unison at the exact same moment, and their eyes ping to each other, both laughing then bowing their heads immediately. Sophie just knows her cheeks are flushed.

—

Benedict loves the look in her eye sometimes. That spirited sparkle with glowing cheeks. In his opinion, that is the only look Sophie should ever wear; no one, especially one as unworthy as Mr Reeves, should be allowed to rob her of it. He feels a strong compulsion to do everything in his power to keep her looking like that—carefree, happy, stunning. It’s what motivates his subsequent words.

“If it is not considered too impudent for me to do so, I have a suggestion for Miss Baek’s introduction into society,” Benedict offers sincerely. “I believe you should be able to find her an excellent, worthy match by casting a wider net.”

“What are you proposing, Mr Bridgerton?” Mrs Parsons inquiries, almost warily.

“That Miss Baek come to London and partake in the remainder of the season as a guest of my family. My mother seems to think it an excellent idea, and I know my younger sister Eloise is already a good friend. I do not see why they could not attend events together,” he shrugs genially.

“You have already spoken to the Dowager Viscountess of this matter?!” Mrs Parsons checks, unable to modulate the astonishment in her tone.

“Of course,” he confirms with a nod. “I made such a suggestion this morning when your names came up. She heartily concurs. Miss Baek here is too bright and good of a person to have her marital choice limited by geography or circumstance.”

His eyes flit to Sophie, and his heart gallops at the searing look she gives him.

—

Sophie doesn't even try to temper her doe-eyed expression as she looks upon Benedict, him extolling her virtues to the audience of the tea room.

Even distracted by all the wondrous things he has to say, she can detect the noise level on the surrounding tables has reduced; everyone in town always keen to eavesdrop on a Bridgerton conversation. Especially one that contains such noteworthy gossip as a local young lady being invited to the London season at the family’s behest.

“My dear, I trust that Lady Bridgerton will look after you well,” Mrs Parsons professes. “I have no objections should you desire to seize this opportunity.” Her tone pointed, very much encouraging.

“That would be just wonderful, Mr Bridgerton,” Sophie exhales with a grateful smile. “I cannot thank you enough for even thinking to raise such a petition.”

“Think nothing of it, Miss Baek,” he smiles, standing up and giving both a brief, shallow bow. “I shall see you anon, no doubt.”

And with that, he sweeps out of the tearoom, Sophie’s eye line tracking his concave outline through the curved glass as he rounds the corner out of sight.

“Well, well,” Mrs Parsons puffs out her cheeks. “I am not sure what you did to inspire such actions in a gentleman. But bravo, my dear, bravo,” she holds her teacup aloft in a toast.

Sophie is a jumble of emotions and could not even begin to answer about what she could possibly have done. Mostly, she is just elated by the prospect of the chance to attend the whirl of the London season, even if there is also a slight pang of regret that Benedict seems so keen to see her matched.

II: …Is To Love You

The following Tuesday, as the carriage pulls up outside the grandeur of Bridgerton House, Sophie has nothing but butterflies. And as the dowager Viscountess and her lady’s maid show her to a charming guest room, she cannot temper her excitement.

“Get yourself freshened up, my dear. There is a masquerade ball this evening at the Queen’s new residence, no less, and there is no time like the present to begin your introductions,” Violet warmly counsels.

Sophie nods her thank yous, and after they take their leave, twirls excitedly around the room. Basking in the airy sunlight flooding in, admiring the elegant furnishings as she goes. She pulls up in front of a large sash window and is delighted to see bounteous gardens beneath. The rear of the property is very much an oasis of calm in the heart of the city. But one sight in particular draws her eye: a majestic oak with two swings attached to a stately arm. It looks like a place of refuge, and she feels oddly compelled to take a seat there.

Three hours later, walking into the palatial Buckingham House, she is in a different world from the one she knows in Kent. Candlelit crystal chandeliers glint like towering clusters of jewels, spraying thousands of shards of light around the room. Every railing is bedecked in hundreds of drooping flower garlands, and the walls groan with enormous portraits of royalty. The melodic strains of a chamber orchestra fill the air. She tries not to look too agog at all the surrounding opulence, glad for the mask to hide her wonder behind.

“And I thought Aubrey Hall was grand,” she murmurs, and beside her, Eloise just guffaws.

—

Benedict arrives late to the ball from his bachelor lodgings across town, bustling in as stealthily as possible, hurriedly tugging on his simple black mask as he does, knowing he will likely catch his mother’s ire for his tardiness.

But then he sees a sight that makes him temporarily stop dead in his tracks.

There surveying the room utterly lost in reverie at its grandeur—is Sophie.

He has not seen her dressed up as she is now, made over with the full attention of the Bridgerton staff. And he isn't afraid to admit to himself, at least, that it catches his breath. Even with a silver lace mask concealing half her face, how they have styled her emphasises her already evident beauty. And the dress they have chosen… well, he is almost ashamed of the heat pooling low in his gut; he has never seen Sophie in such tailored, refined, shimmering fabric. She looks positively ethereal.

Whosoever marries her shall be quite the luckiest man indeed.

He doesn't miss the way she inhales sharply when her eyes finally land on him, his chest swelling slightly with pride as her lips part in surprise before breaking into that winning smile which always seems to brighten every room, tonight being no exception.

When he finally joins his family, after needing to dodge a seemingly endless array of enthused mamas, he hears his own mother advising Sophie about the men in attendance.

“I would like to introduce you to Lord Shelton, my dear. He is a fine young man with many interests, and he has a lovely estate near Hove,” Violet recounts as Sophie listens intently.

“Oh god, no,” Benedict immediately intervenes, “Shelton has amassed significant debt at the Pudding Lane gaming hell.”

Violet looks up surprised, then raises an eyebrow at him.

“Pray tell dear son, how do you know such? Benedict Bridgerton, you had better not be frequenting the hells of the East End!” She threatens hushedly, in that stern maternal manner that would have any grown man quaking in their polished shoes.

“No, of course not, mother,” he bristles, his eyes cutting briefly to Sophie, not wanting her to think such things of him. “It is an open secret at Whites, and why he is currently banned from the card room there.”

—

Sophie cannot tear her eyes off Benedict as his mother side-eyes him.

Violet hums sceptically before declaring. “Well, not to worry, there are plenty of other options available for Miss Baek…” She steers attention towards another crowd of young men, all talking and sipping champagne. “Baron Corning, Lord Jennings, Viscount Tewkesbury,” she recounts, nodding subtly to each one. “Any would make a fine addition to your dance card, my dear.”

“We can do much better than any of them,” Benedict chides.

Sophie is slightly taken aback at how very much he sounds like Anthony tonight; apparently very invested in curating who she should dance with. The problem is, with each additional suggestion his mother makes, he roundly dismisses them out of hand.

Is no one in attendance up to his standard?

“Benedict, dear, a word?” Violet states pointedly after a third round of his withering opinions. “Get yourself another lemonade,” she smiles at Sophie, patting her hand before looping an arm in her son’s and dragging him away.

—

His mother’s arm is surprisingly strong when she needs it to be.

“Darling, may I remind you, while Miss Baek is indeed a wonderful person, I do not think we can afford to be too picky for her prospects. Her background is rather… unestablished,” Violet points out diplomatically as soon as they are out of Sophie’s earshot.

“We can do better than braggards, bores and philanderers,” Benedict shoots back, raising a pointed eyebrow.

She looks up at him and sighs. “Well, that is true.”

“As I thought, mother,” he winks as she affectionately swats his forearm. “Why not benefit from my knowledge? In fact, perhaps it is prudent I assist in your search for a suitor.”

“Oh, is it now?” Her tone suddenly filled with intrigue, her face entirely too scrutinising for his liking. “And does my second son wish to join their ranks?” She adds entirely unsubtly.

“I have no time for romance; I have my art. I am most preoccupied.” He waves a dismissive hand, but even he knows his answer is tellingly brusque.

“And yet, you do not seem too busy to assist with the search, dear…” she points out archly.

Benedict has no response to that.

—

The day after the ball, Sophie is sat in the dappled shade in the gardens of Bridgerton House, attempting needlework. It's never been a strength, frankly. She would much rather be allowed to partake in more physical pursuits, like archery or fencing, a want to burn off nervous energy as she awaits the arrival of any suitors. She did end up dancing with a couple of gentlemen, both of whom were... fine… in her estimation.

After messing up yet another stitch, she throws down the embroidery hoop and emits a deep sigh when a familiar chuckle rings out behind her.

“Not your favourite pastime?” Benedict correctly guesses.

“You can say that again,” she grumbles, twisting to smile at him, a little frisson in her belly at his mere presence.

He rounds the table to take a seat opposite.

“So let me guess,” his face charmingly skewed into a thoughtful mien. “You would prefer to be doing something, hmmmm, more athletic?”

Sophie giggles, abashed he knows her so well. “Correct again.”

“I remember you being a crack shot in archery,” he smiles nostalgically before continuing with genuine curiosity. “Why did you not continue it?”

“I was informed ‘tis unbecoming for a lady,” she rues, the mental image of Mrs Parsons deeming such things ‘unladylike’ flitting through her mind.

He scoffs. “Since when did fearsome little Skylark care one jot for societal expectations?” He teases gently, with a wink, as again he invokes that nickname he bestowed upon her a long time hence.

Sophie smiles briefly before she becomes more sanguine. “Since I have been informed I must find a husband…” she sighs.

He frowns a touch. “Any man would be lucky to have a wife who can keep him company on the archery field. I know I, for one, would greatly appreciate a spouse with whom I could share such a pastime.”

“I would venture that you are not like most gentlemen in that regard…” she counters, a bittersweet twinge in her heart that one day, he will indeed be married to some deserving, no doubt elegant, lady, and she shall barely see him.

“Perhaps not,” he agrees, looking thoughtful, “but then you are not like most ladies, Skylark.”

“I am not a lady…” her counterpoint is softly-spoken, almost ashamed.

“You are more lady than any other member of the Ton,” he asserts, his gaze suddenly intense, as if he is willing her to believe his point. “And you should be free to pursue any pastime you wish.”

Sophie says nothing, just smiles wanly, wishing she could believe it were true.

—

How Sophie constantly doubts herself causes a little stab behind Benedict’s ribs. A sudden burning need to prove that she should do as she pleases. He slaps his thighs and stands up swiftly.

“In fact, I am going to go set up the archery targets right now,” he nods decisively, headed for the far corner of the garden where he knows the targets are kept, hoping she will follow.

“Coming?” he calls, twisting to look back at Sophie. “I won't tell anyone…” he adds with a conspiratorial wink, seeing from the involuntary bounce of her leg how much she wishes to join in.

He cannot help the smile that engulfs his face as Sophie jumps to her feet with a mischievous giggle. Nor can he help deliberately aiming badly, letting her roundly defeat him at target practice, basking in the victorious glint in her eye as she teases him gently for losing.

He also pretends not to notice his mother watching from a high window, her expression riveted and so very telling.

—

Later that day, Sophie is reading quietly with Eloise when Violet sweeps into the drawing room with her lady's maid.

“Sophie dearest, Sir Denton is here to see you,” she smiles brightly.

“Oh, I…” Sophie stutters, sitting upright, surprised.

“I can send him away, Miss?” The maid offers, intuiting her disquiet.

“No, no, it is fine… I am just surprised, that is all. ‘Tis almost 4pm. I was not expecting that anyone would be calling, given the late hour.”

Benedict suddenly materialises in the doorway. As ever, there’s that trademark flutter in Sophie’s chest.

“Any reason Denton is lingering in the hallway?” he inquires airily, grabbing a teacup and pouring himself some.

“He is here for Miss Baek,” Violet breezes as his eyes cut to Sophie, a wave of irritation seeming to cloud his face.

“Well, we should dismiss him,” Benedict sniffs, pausing in his action, his face souring.

“Why?” Violet frowns.

“I had a chance to look into his past since I acquiesced to his dance with Miss Baek last night…”

“Acquiesced?!” Violet scoffs, but Benedict ignores her interjection, save for a curt eyebrow raise.

“I have subsequently discovered he has vastly overstated his assets,” Benedict bristles imperiously.

“Who woke up and made you Anthony?” Eloise pipes up witheringly.

Benedict shoots his sister a look of irritation. “Anthony has deputised me to run family matters while he is away on business this week, sister,” he reminds pointedly.

“Yes, but you did not have to adopt his personality as well,” Eloise shoots back, disgust evident on her face.

“I take finding Miss Baek here, a suitable match, seriously,” he volleys. “Do you wish to see your good friend married to someone unworthy of her?”

“Well, no…”

“Then kindly permit me to handle matters,” Benedict orders with finality, uncharacteristically forthright in his opinions.

“I do not wish to see her married at all…” Eloise mutters under her breath as he stalks away to dispatch Denton before anyone can argue.

Sophie just sits there mildly dumbfounded, unsure what to make of it all.

—

The following evening, Sophie attends a music recital with the Bridgertons; Benedict is notably absent, which makes her a touch melancholic in a way she doesn’t want to dwell on.

However, the evening turns for the better while she is taking refreshments at the interval. A friendly-faced young man strikes up a conversation with her after an introduction from Violet.

“Are you enjoying the music tonight, Miss Baek?” he asks genially.

“It is very nice, Lord Glassborough,” she offers politely, trying to stifle her slight boredom.

Sophie enjoys music, but a two-hour concert is a little too much. She much prefers a short set of songs, as they play at balls.

“I find it rather dull myself,” he opines quietly, leaning in. “I much prefer a lively song one may dance to.”

She cannot temper her surprise that his opinion is an exact mirror of her own.

“Have I offended you so?” he checks, looking mildly contrite.

“Not at all, my lord. I was actually just thinking the same myself,” she chuckles quietly.

He looks inordinately pleased and breaks into a friendly, toothy grin. He seems like a nice, agreeable sort. A pleasant, if not particularly handsome, face. Over his shoulder, Sophie sees Violet looking inordinately pleased that all appears to be going so well.

—

“I am not sure I can do this...” Sophie sighs as Ms West genially taps the metronome.

“You can, dear; just remember your finger placement.”

And so she begins again. Attempting to master this tricky piece, her eyes trace the lines of music as her fingers glide over the cool ivory keys of the pianoforte. Violet is keen for her to brush up on her skills, given Lord Glassborough’s interest yesterday. Sophie could not find an adequate excuse fast enough, so here she is, in a slightly reluctant music lesson, trying her best to recall what Mrs Parsons taught her a few years ago.

“Men do so appreciate a lady who can entertain them with exquisite music,” Ms West nods approvingly as she plays.

Mostly, Sophie is relieved when she makes it to the end with no mistakes, at least none glaringly obvious.

“I much prefer to sing…” she admits tacitly as Ms West shuffles the sheet music.

The teacher looks at her surprised, then shoos her from the piano stool. “Sing for me then, my dear…” taking a seat and beginning the opening bars to a song that, fortunately, Sophie knows well.

She begins to sing along, growing more confident with every note, allowing herself to get lost in the words, the story of a lady awaiting her true love.

“Exceptional!” Mrs West peals delightedly over the sound, and Sophie feels bolstered to continue, the piano a the perfect accompaniment.

—

Benedict stops short as soon as he enters the house. The most lilting, beautiful sound echoes gently down the marble hall.

“Who is that Jenkins?” he asks of the butler who takes his coat.

“I believe it is Miss Baek, sir.”

He draws inexorably closer, finding himself watching Sophie through the crack in the doorway, listening to her sing a touching tale of love that sounds so hauntingly hypnotic in her mellifluous tones. Her eyes are closed, and she sways to the melody, lost in reverie, in the narrative being woven.

The piano stops abruptly.

“Can we help you, sir?” an elder lady calls crisply.

Benedict realises the door has crept open slightly before him, enough for him to be clocked by the music teacher. He watches as Sophie swings around and looks horrified that she may have an audience. It makes him take a resolute step forward into the room.

“Do you need us to desist? Is it perhaps too loud?” The lady checks deferentially, likely assuming him to be the head of the household.

“No!” His reply is a touch too forceful. “Please continue,” he modifies. “I was merely drawn by the splendid sound I heard. I am not sure I have ever heard such a wondrous voice,” he adds, keeping his gaze steadfastly upon the lady, not able to look Sophie in the eye as he confesses such.

—

Sophie is mortified when she realises Benedict heard her singing; she has always managed to keep it private, until now at least. But now her heart is suddenly pounding at his extolling words.

“She does indeed have a most excellent voice,” Ms West concurs with his sentiment, looking at Sophie expectantly as Benedict walks further into the room, his face with the same hopeful expression.

“I am not sure I can…” she stumbles, nervous for an audience, most especially him. His is the opinion that would matter to her the most—she would be crestfallen should he not like it.

“Sing more for me, please, Skylark?” His ask is gentle, beseeching as if it were just the two of them alone.

“Skylark?” Ms West sounds enchanted.

“My childhood nickname for Miss Baek,” Benedict explains as he takes a seat.

“Skylarks have a wonderful song,” the lady sighs wistfully.

“Indeed,” Benedict chimes, his eyes still upon Sophie. “I never knew how appropriate it was until this very moment.”

Something warm cracks in Sophie’s chest at his sweet words, making her courageous. At least enough to nod when Ms West looks to her again from the piano. And so she restarts the song for this very special audience, heart in her mouth. The words coming easily to her, an extra layer of meaning he will never know as Sophie sings words of unrequited devotion, looking to him in her braver moments. His face is enrapt, leaning forward, his eyes soft and expressive.

As she reaches a high note at the end of the song, holding it, Benedict bursts into applause, jumping up from his seat and taking her by surprise, grabbing her gloved hands in his.

“You should always be singing Skylark…” he pronounces. “Truly beautiful. Please promise me, no matter what happens, that you will always, always sing…”

Sophie ducks her head briefly, unsure how to deal with his effusive praise. Ms West’s face is a picture, watching them stand with hands held tight, Sophie feeling a tingle where the warmth of his skin seeps through the layers to hers.

“I-I-I promise,” she replies meekly, a touch dazed as her eyes again meet his, the intensity making her lungs restrict.

“Thank you.”

Two words have never sounded so sincere or loaded with significance.

III: … And I Do.

A few days later, it is the Trowbridge Ball, a regular fixture on the London social calendar and a decadent affair that is usually the most talked about of the season. As it turns out, another masquerade ball. Apparently, Lady Trowbridge is still somewhat piqued that the Queen ‘borrowed’ her idea and usurped the occasion by hurriedly arranging her own for the week before. Eloise recounts this as they get ready, and Sophie can only chuckle. The Ton seems such an oddly cutthroat place under its veneer of civility.

They share a carriage ride to the ball with Benedict. Sophie tries her best not to stare at him - so handsomely dressed in a white cravat and black velvet cropped jacket that clings to his tapered shape - but mostly, she fails. In rather spectacular fashion, really, her skin flushing hot the more she looks at him, glad the majority of her blushes are hidden behind her mask. But she could almost swear that his gaze dwells on her, too, subtly sweeping the fine silk Madam Delacroix has expertly tailored.

—

“You look beautiful this evening, ladies,” he offers politely to both, but really, it is just for one of his carriagemates.

“What do you want?” Eloise cuts across any reply Sophie could give, narrowing her eyes at him, instantly suspicious of his flattery.

“Can I not compliment without an ulterior motive?” he ripostes, unable to stop their usual sibling dynamic from flaring.

“Not usually,” Eloise sniffs, with another suspicious glance, before looking out the carriage window.

He beams happily as Sophie takes the opportunity to thank him quietly. She seems truly radiant, so much that he cannot prevent his gaze from lingering longer than it probably should, grateful Eloise’s attentions are drawn elsewhere in this confined space.

Same as a few minutes later, even though he knows he probably shouldn't, he allows his hand to remain upon Sophie’s a few seconds longer than is necessary when he assists her in alighting from the carriage.

—

Around an hour into the ball, as Sophie goes to partake in a refreshment, a sneering Lady Cowper utters something cruel under her breath, her sour-looking daughter smirking beside her. Sophie does not hear all of the words but does not need to. One sideways glance tells her all she needs to know. It seem so unnecessarily cruel to be judged so harshly, having never even exchanged so much as a word with the woman. A sticky lump in her throat, even as, thankfully, their attention is pulled elsewhere.

“Ah! Mr Bridgerton!” Lady Cowper’s entire demeanour changing to oleaginous charm, “my daughter looks particularly stunning tonight, does she not? I do believe you should secure a place upon her dance card before there are none left!”

Even with his face partially disguised behind his mask, Sophie sees Benedict blanch at the very words.

“I do not dance, Lady Cowper, but I bid you ladies a good evening,” he responds, polite but firm.

Sophie tries her hardest not to smile at the disdained sneer on their lips and feels light as air as, instead, he sweeps by them, drawing up to her and winking privately.

“That woman does not realise she is doing her daughter’s prospects more harm than good with her brashness,” he comments dryly as he grabs a glass of champagne from the adjacent stand.

“I am not so sure the daughter would do much better without her; she seems perpetually furious about her own hairstyle,” Sophie opines sardonically, making Benedict snort loudly into his drink. A lightness fizzles in her being as he shoots her a look of unmistakable admiration for that remark.

“I daresay you are a much better dancer than her,” he contends, not breaking eye contact, placing aside his refreshment before leaning in and continuing in a hushed voice. “Perhaps you would do me the honour of a dance to confirm my suspicion?”

There is a vault in Sophie’s chest as he is offering her a dance when, just a moment ago, he declared publicly that he would not. Sophie can only nod, heart hammering, as he breaks out into the most handsome smile, offering his arm and leading her to the centre of the room as a ripple goes through the nearby crowd. Apparently the sight of one Benedict Bridgerton taking to the dancefloor is a rare occasion indeed.

—

As he takes Sophie’s gloved hand in his and curls an arm around her shoulder, he realises this was perhaps a mistake. An impromptu offer, the hollow thrill of petty revenge for the insult that he observed the Cowpers sling at her. But now he realises it has somewhat backfired… upon him. He cares not a jot for the gossiping, people whispering behind their hands as they begin to dance. No, the problem is much more concerning than that.

It is how discombobulated he feels having Sophie in his arms.

How her body seems to fit and move perfectly with his. How, when she dares to look up at him, his mouth goes a little parched. He has never truly noticed how striking her eyes are until seeing them now this close. Indeed, the evident beauty of her face, the way she seems to glow from within, more tonight than ever. It makes his chest - and somewhere else on his body - feel entirely too tight.

—

Nothing could have prepared Sophie for this.

The feeling of literally being swept off her feet. With Benedict's handsome face smiling down upon her as she floats around the dancefloor.

Surely, this is what dreams are made of?

She knows it is a flight of fancy, but it seems as though the floor beneath her feet is a shower of diamonds rather than candlelight refracted through chandeliers. The warmth and strength of Benedict’s embrace caged around her, respectful but so close it makes her lungs feel too small to gasp the air she needs to keep moving. But she never wants to stop. A whirlwind of sensation as she twirls, carried away by the music, the man, the moment.

“Thank you, Benedict,” she breathes, knowing she is likely looking up at him far too adoringly but unable to hide it, a burning need for him to know how grateful she is for this dance, not even noting her slight faux pas of employing his first name at a society event.

His eyes flash and she could swear they dilate a fraction before she must turn her back to him, following the steps.

“I was right,” he rumbles cryptically from behind her now, his large hands wrapped around hers as they hold them aloft together, following the moves of the dance. “It is indeed an honour to dance with you.”

They turn in perfect sync, and they are now dancing directly in front of Cressida, her expression murderous even hidden beneath her demi-mask. It makes Sophie bolder than she has ever been, tilting her head sideways a fraction so her cheek almost brushes Benedict’s, fuelled by the envy she feels seething from within the odious girl.

Sophie could swear he sighs ‘Skylark’, his hot breath tickling her ear. It has her chest pounding, a flavour in the air she could taste, a powerful stirring low in her belly.

—

Benedict knows this is a dangerous path and yet is powerless to do anything but walk it. Even while knowing his ever-vigilant mother is watching, an inscrutable expression upon her face. Breathing that nickname into Sophie’s hair as he inhales her scent, heightened by the movement of her dancing. A light, sweet floral perfume but underneath the smell of her, familiar from many years of friendship but altered now, more decadent, an undercurrent of tart berries that thrills and stirs deep within him.

He is almost grateful when the music ends before he does something foolish. But then Sophie is staring up into his face, all doe-eyed expectancy and his tongue feels unexpectedly tied. He is almost grateful when an interrupting hand wraps around his shoulder.

—

Sophie watches what she believes is Will Mondrich whisper in her dance partner’s ear. Before she knows it, Benedict is offering apologies with a shallow, polite bow and hurrying away. Coming back to reality with a bump, she drifts awkwardly from the dance floor, feeling judgy eyes, suddenly flooded with concern her behaviour may have been entirely too wanton.

Before her thoughts can spiral too far, however, someone materialises at her side.

“I do so hope your dance card is not full tonight, Miss Baek,” a newly familiar, chipper voice cuts in.

“Lord Glassborough,” she greets, recognising his cheery demeanour despite his mask; the relief at having someone familiar to distract her is palpable. “I am available to dance right now.”

Sophie takes his proffered arm and lets him lead her back out to the spot she and Benedict had just vacated. But as the music begins and they move together, the difference for Sophie is noticeable. Gone is the frisson over her limbs, that excitement as if her skin could vibrate off her very bones. Instead, she feels comforted, almost a brotherly presence as the man leads her in the dance. He is technically proficient, but it feels lacking—that tension, a heat burning in the space between them. It makes her yearn for Benedict even though he was just there. Her stomach settles with a leaden weight as she realises she will have to settle for less than what she truly desires.

Still distracted by the mental comparison, Sophie absently acquiesces to his suggestion to take some air upon the terrace as the dance ends. She senses Violet, ever the vigilant chaperone, follow not far behind as he leads her into the cooler air outside.

“Miss Baek…” he begins cautiously. Sophie senses a nervousness in his being, pulling her focus back to him. “I think us most compatible, would you not agree?”

“We make most excellent friends, indeed, Lord Glassborough,” she hedges, not wanting to appear overzealous.

“And friendship is the most appropriate foundation to build something more… tender,” he argues with a smile. “I do believe I could offer you a most agreeable life.”

There is a strange twinge in her chest as suddenly, Sophie realises what this is. The moment everyone, except perhaps her, has been awaiting all season.

“I would be honoured if you would consent to be my wife, Miss Baek,” he humbly offers a sincere kindness shining in his eyes.

And there it is—an offer of marriage from a perfectly nice, respectable gentleman done in an appropriate manner.

To one side, Sophie sees Violet clutch a hand over her chest, face delighted, even as her own fists clench within her delicate gloves. Wishing this moment were not happening so soon after a truly breathtaking dance with the man of her dreams. Who is not the same man as the one before her, nervously shuffling from foot to foot, awaiting her reply.

“I am honoured, Lord Glassborough,” she answers cautiously, bowing her head demurely. “This is a big decision to make. Please allow me time to give you my proper, considered answer?”

“Of course,” he bows chivalrously, his accommodating nature making this moment all the more bittersweet. He is indeed a lovely man.

He is just not the one Sophie wants with every fibre of her being.

—

That night, Sophie cannot sleep—the most significant decision of her life to make. So, in the small hours, she finds herself drifting to the deserted kitchen of Bridgerton House to do what she does best when she needs to think calmly—baking.

A pastime she has grown up enjoying with Mrs Parsons. Many hours spent happily with flour dusting her hands, sun streaming into the large but homely kitchen of the house she grew up in. Perhaps a slightly maverick pastime for a woman of Mrs Parsons’ social standing, with a modest staff to do such things for her, should she wish it, but so very enjoyable for them both nonetheless.

Throwing a large, heavy baking apron over her nightdress and robe, Sophie potters around. The flagstone of the basement floor is cold underfoot, a grounding feeling that stops her mind from racing too much.

She has no idea how to respond to Lord Glassborough’s proposal. On one hand, he is a seemingly nice man, of a good family. She is sure he would be a perfectly acceptable husband, unlikely to be mean or untoward. It is just… a nagging voice is telling her to turn him down despite him being an imminently sensible choice, her heart wanting, well, the impossible. A man that excites her, not just a safe, practical option.

She is onto the second batch of lemon and rosemary biscuits when a voice makes her jump out of her skin.

“What on earth…?”

There in the doorway is Benedict, looking confounded to find her there. The very man who makes her heart skip, always. He is dressed the most undone Sophie has ever seen him—a white frilled shirt open a few too many buttons revealing a smooth plane of lightly freckled chest, brocade braces slung casually around his hips as he pads in, also barefoot. She swears she may have to grab the bench before her to stay upright.

“Skylark, we have cooks you can call upon at any time should you need food!” he fusses, instantly concerned, moving to ring a bell on the wall.

“No! Please do not!” She exclaims, rushing to stop him, grabbing his sleeve in her haste. “I-I enjoy baking. It is relaxing; it helps me to think.”

His brow knits, and his eyes flick down to her hold on his sleeve, a warm vein pulsing under her fingertips. She snatches her hand away quickly, a blush staining her cheeks, mumbling an apology as she scurries back to her biscuit-making.

“Alright,” he concedes slowly, still appearing confused. “When I saw the sconces lit from the rear stairwell, I assumed one of the staff was still down here.”

Sophie finds it amusing that he seems at pains to justify why he might also be in the kitchen, especially to her, a guest of his family. This is Bridgerton House, and he is a Bridgerton. He may go wherever he pleases, surely? And yet here he is, doing so.

“I was rather hoping for some hot cocoa,” he explains with that soft, crooked smile that always has her heart aflutter.

“Oh! Well, umm, I could make you some cocoa?” She wipes her hands upon her apron and moves to do so.

—

That Sophie would make such an offer, as if seeing herself as household staff, spurs Benedict into action.

“No, you certainly will not!” He decries, moving swiftly towards the larder before she can. “I am perfectly fine with some cold milk,” he assures, re-emerges with a bottle and pouring himself a glass, leaning back against the sink to take a sip.

Despite the lateness of the hour, he finds Sophie’s heretofore secret pastime fascinating. A lady who bakes. By choice. So he watches as she returns to making biscuits, entertained, as she begins to beat the mixture quite furiously with a wooden spatula.

“Have those ingredients caused you some sort of personal offence….?” he jests lightly, nodding to the bowl.

He observes a flit of contrition across her face.

“I, umm, have a decision that I must make; baking helps me think,” she explains vaguely, then appears to change the subject rapidly. “I am, however, sure of one fact - some biscuits are a must to accompany milk. There is a completed batch over there.”

“Genius,” he opines with a wink, enthusiastically moving to grab one from the cooling rack she signalled to, delighting in the blush that darkens her cheeks.

He decides to gently push the topic she abruptly avoided. Concerned there could be a topic she is genuinely wrestling with. If his opinion on the matter can ameliorate her burdens, he would be most honoured to assist.

“What sort of decision must you make?” he inquires… before temporarily losing the power of speech.

There is an explosion of tart lemon and earthy herb on his tongue that melts into a buttery sweetness—utterly divine.

“Lord alive, these are delicious!!!” He exclaims around the mouthful.

“Thank you,” she answers softly.

Sophie is always so modest about her talents; it sometimes makes him want to grab her shoulders and shake her gently. To make her see what he does.

“To answer your question, it is a perplexing matter that needs serious consideration,” she continues but stops short of detail, looking at him with a sudden intensity.

He is saddened it appears she is not yet ready to share the information with him. But he also does not want to pry if she is reluctant to divulge.

—

Benedict swallows a bite, and Sophie finds herself staring at the movement of his throat. Knowing one thing to be true—if it were his proposal, she would not even hesitate for a split second.

That wistful thought makes her suddenly melancholic, sighing, pushing aside her mixing bowl, realising this may be an issue baking will not fix.

“I do so hate to see you doubt yourself, Skylark,” he offers quietly after a beat, mien so earnest. “Trust yourself. You will find the right answer for your dilemma; I am certain of it.”

He is so remarkably supportive that, ironically, she almost wants to scream at him.

“I should leave you to your thoughts,” his tone is gentle, reluctant.

“Please, there is no need, Benedict,” Sophie tries to assure. “To be honest, in all of this world, yours is the company I enjoy the very most…”

That truth is out of her mouth before she can censor it.

She sheepishly glances over to be met by a surprised look on his face. He takes a few steps towards her, probably without realising it. Suddenly, he is very close, faint wisps of his woodsy, citrus cologne tickling her nose.

“And I, yours, Skylark…” he rumbles, his gaze falling to her lips.

Time seems to stop, and Sophie feels pinned under glass, staring up into his handsome face as he breathes slightly ragged, her body rioting as he engulfs her senses, definitely too close to be considered gentlemanly, polite…

…But then, he takes a sharp inhale and steps back as if coming to his senses. He turns heel with a hastily muttered goodbye, and before she knows it, he is gone. Leaving her bewildered, thoughts scattered.

—

The following day, Benedict is idly reading the paper, partaking in a leisurely lunch of tea and cake, when his mother swans in, reeling off a set of instructions for her lady's maid.

“Oh, and lastly, do not forget, we should secure an appointment with the modiste, in case Miss Baek should know her answer today…” Violet concludes breezily as she takes a seat.

“Yet another ball we must suffer, mother?” Benedict drawls, folding down his paper and taking a hearty bite of zesty lemon drizzle.

She shoots her son an exasperated look before neatly smoothing a serviette into her lap as she is served her usual afternoon Earl Grey by the butler. “Miss Baek will be in need of a wedding dress, Benedict, dear.”

He spits an array of crumbs onto his newspaper, coughing in shock. “She will need what?!?” he wheezes, barely recovering.

“Lord Glassborough proposed to Miss Baek last night at the ball. She has yet to give her answer, but I am confident she will accept. They are a fine match,” Violet declares, taking a sip of tea.

“Why did she not mention it to me?” he mutters, more to himself than anyone, his forehead creasing heavily in a frown as he swallows the rest of his mouthful.

“Why would she have?”

“We talked last night…” letting slip perhaps too much in his perplexed state, lost in his tumbling thoughts.

“When last night? We returned from the ball very late,” a suspicious tone in his mother’s voice, belatedly releasing he should know better than to think aloud; she is sharp as a tack.

“I-I found Miss Baek baking last night in the kitchen when I went for cocoa. She told me she had a dilemma she was wrestling with…” he admits, looking down at the paper, the words now a jumble before his eyes. “....Mother do you think it is possible she will say yes??” Benedict's head snaps up, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears.

“She would be a fool not to,” Violet points out, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow at him. “Unless there was another, perhaps more wanted, proposal she could consider? Do you possibly know of one? Son?”

Even he can read between those lines.

“I-I am late,” he abruptly changes tack. “I promised to meet Anthony today to discuss the soil at Aubrey,” he bustles rapidly, standing and fleeing the room before he can allow his mother to see how much of a complete lie that is.

—

Benedict spends the afternoon at Whites, downing perhaps one too many whiskeys as he grills his fellow patrons about the Glassborough family. Looking for any reason he can find to object to the betrothal while steadfastly refusing to examine why he feels so passionately about the subject. He also spends time checking the hefty tomes of Debrett’s the club holds.

He returns to Bridgerton House just as dusk settles in, the sky streaking red and pink as he enters.

“Where have you been, dear?” Violet asks as he rounds into the parlour.

“Researching,” he gruffs economically.

“What? Or rather whom?” Violet inquires, revealing she already has a firm idea of what she asks.

“I can find nothing wrong with him!”

Benedict paces, an energy emanating from his being as if that very fact rattles him.

“That is a good thing, is it not, son?” Violet reminds pointedly. “We want Miss Baek married to a good gentleman.”

Benedict shoots her an exasperated look but relents. “I suppose…”

“Is not your reluctance perhaps for another reason, my dear?” Her question is gentle, if not particularly subtle.

He slumps into a wingback chair with a defeated sigh. “Go ahead. Say your piece, mother.”

“I have watched you, darling,” she begins softly, watching him tip his head back and screw his eyes shut. “I do not know exactly when, but your regard of Miss Baek has altered, and I am not the only one to observe it.”

Benedict's eyes fly open, and he tips his head down with a frown as his mother continues.

“Even Colin has marked a change in you. If you feel anything, my dear, then Miss Baek, Sophie, has the right to know. Before it is too late. The right to make an informed choice if you are bold enough to give her one. Son, I have only ever wanted my children’s happiness. And if your happiness lies somewhere that perhaps even you have not realised until now…. well then I encourage you to follow it. Follow your heart.”

Her impassioned speech suddenly makes the pieces of a jumbled jigsaw before his eyes arrange into a pattern, a way forward that is suddenly clear and sharply in focus.

It makes him leap to his feet, an urgency thronging in his being.

“Where is Miss Baek?” he almost barks.

“I do not know,” Violet confesses, “but I do know she has not yet seen or written to Lord Glassborough,” she adds.

“Good…” he rasps, headed determined out of the room to find Sophie.

—

The verdant lush grass is cool between her toes as Sophie curls them over, sighing heavily, the night now dark, a twinkle of silver stars among the navy sky, soon to be black. The swing under the big oak, a refuge she has sought many times since staying at Bridgerton House, feels a particularly poignant place to be tonight as an internal war rages within, her decision swinging back and forth as much as the wooden seat she is perched upon, the rope digging into her cheekbone as she slumps against it, flummoxed.

She knows what her answer to Lord Glassborough should be. Indeed, what it should have been from the moment he asked.

A resounding yes.

In every practical measure, this is the best possible outcome of her London season. A proposal from a thoroughly decent, acceptable gentleman, way above the station anyone was expecting, given her complete lack of certainty around any prestigious lineage.

And yet.

There is a large part of her, her heart, that wants to turn down the proposal, foolhardy as that may be—wanting to feel something akin to what she felt when she danced with Benedict that night.

She is not so foolish as to believe he would ever propose, but perhaps there is someone else out there for her that may evoke something similar. Even if only half, it would be enough. Enough for her to build a future around and feel contentment in her heart, to not just settle for what her head knows to be a sensible choice.

—

Having searched the house, Benedict rounds into the garden and stops short, heart leaping into his throat as he spies her, swaying gently upon the swing, looking thoroughly lost in thought.

It makes his chest ache that Sophie is so melancholic about a decision that should indeed be joyous. The selfish part of him celebrating, hoping that perhaps she is not. His memory recalls with perfect clarity how she had looked as lost as he now feels every time she has been close. The unbearable lightness of hope seizes his legs and draws him inexorably closer.

—

Sophie whips around as she senses company and has to take a deep breath as her eyes fall upon Benedict. His face pinched with a restless intensity.

“I was hoping I would find you…”

“You have,” she shrugs, still confused by his crackling energy, him seeming in a rush to say something.

“Sophie, you deserve the very best of everything. Sincerely. And part of that includes being privy to the truth in the hearts of those lucky enough to know you…” a slight quake in his voice as he takes a step closer.

“Alright…” Sophie responds cautiously, her brow creasing as she senses the nerves emanating from him.

She gasps as he rapidly drops to one knee before her, a hand clutched to his chest.

“I have been a fool not to see it before now. My own ardent admiration for you. For your talents, for your beauty. I realise now, perhaps too late, that you are truly the most wondrous, precious being in this world. You may not always see it, but it would be my greatest honour to show you, every day, if you will permit me, what I see when I look upon you, what I have always seen if I am honest with myself. A light that shines brighter than any other, a bird that soars higher and sings more sweetly than any other. A soul that it would be a privilege to be bound to. I know it is perhaps the worst possible timing, seeing as you already have a proposal from a perfectly acceptable gentleman. Still, I could not let you get married without knowing the true contents of my heart.”

Sophie is stunned. Speechless.

Her heart pounds in her ribcage as she sits there stupified for what must be an age, Benedict looking upon her expectantly, breath slightly ragged from his long speech. Somehow, convincing herself this could only be a dream. That the man she has adored since before she can remember has just made the most beautiful poetic confession of love she has ever heard. And it’s to her.

So, she does the only logical thing that comes to mind. Pinches her own leg. Hard.

—

Benedict is momentarily confounded at Sophie’s actions.

“Owwww!” she yelps. “Not dreaming then…” is her muttered follow-up, rubbing her knee as his face morphs into an enormous grin, a lightning bolt of joy tearing through him as he realises what she is doing, that she can scarcely believe this is happening any more than he can.

“It is really me, Skylark,” he chuckles softly, seeing the way her eyes dilate rapidly as he can't help a lopsided grin claiming his face, a warmth behind his ribs, just for her.

“I realise that now,” Sophie sasses back, and there is a distinct stirring in his trousers at the tone she employs.

“I love you.”

It's a reflex; he doesn't even realise he says it. But as soon as it's out of his mouth, it's like an invisible burden has been lifted from his entire being.

His truth. Plain. Simple. Honest.

—

Sophie knows her face is aflame as she snaps back at him, entirely without meaning to, but then he says three little words that tilt her whole world even more.

“I-I love you too.”

She is bewildered when she says the same aloud.

Her truth. Plain. Simple. Honest.

Benedict’s bare hands grab hers, tingles shooting over her as their skin touches.

“Marry me? Please. My darling, wonderful friend,” he implores.

“Yes!! I will!!!” She answers breathlessly, not even a second of hesitation.

He leans in and captures her lips. They are warm and soft as they move gently with hers. And when he opens her mouth, and his tongue rolls delicately over hers, it feels as if all the fireworks she has seen in the sky live now inside her, popping and exploding in a riot of colour. A whole new world of sensual pleasure is promised in that one move.

“Are you certain?” Sophie murmurs as they break apart for air, a flash of insecurity that it is happening so fast, even as there is a strong pull inside, a want to keep kissing him over and over.

Benedict smiles, tilting his forehead to hers, a wistful look in his light eyes.

“To know you, truly know you, is to love you, my beautiful Skylark,” he sighs, his words a comforting blanket settling over her quaking heart. “And I do. I truly do.”

Benophie Masterlist • Taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

Benophie taglist: @makaylan @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @carol20034 @a-road-less-travelled-by

#benophie #benophie fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict x sophie #benedict bridgerton #sophie baek #benedict bridgerton x sophie baek #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x sophie beckett #sophie beckett #bridgerton fluff #BenophieDay #benophieweek

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morose-melodies · 10 months ago

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Before Pantalone became a harbinger, he was a servant. Before breaking his way into the gates of wealth, he was nothing more than just another face. But to noble-born you, he was the love of your life. You two would even sneak kisses behind the tall doors of your manor, and the windows to your room had always been left open for him.

Ultimately though, you could not stay together. The bourgeoisie loving the proletariat? Unheard of. The mere thought of it could bring a bitter taste to an aristocrat’s tongue. And that’s exactly what happened with your father once he found out. He immediately fired young Pantalone, and due to your father’s status, he was able to make sure Pantalone would never find a job within nobility again. And you too were thoroughly punished.

The last time you saw him, he was shivering due to the Snezhnayan frost, and you were cozied up in your huge fur coat within the walls of your carriage. You wished for nothing more than to swap places with him.

It’s been years since then, your family’s gone bankrupt, and you’ve all been shunned from nobility. But the Northland bank business has been booming, and there’s a familiar face within the snow that surrounds the bank. You would’ve never thought that it was your Pantalone.

The next time you’d see him, was when you had been shivering because of the cold. All your furs, jewelry, and clothes had been stripped from you to pay for your father’s debt. But now, Pantalone had been wearing a stylish fur coat, seemingly commissioned just for him. You two could only stare at each other. You were in disbelief, whilst he seemed less shocked, more pitying than anything.

You couldn’t believe that the once young, naive, doe-eyed boy that used to stare at you like you’d hung the stars has now aged into the older, cynical, slit-eyed man that now stares at you and your family like you’re a bunch of wild dogs. He offers to help you out of your.. predicament; his hand stuck out for you to grab. And like the ever-trusting person you are, still believing that the boy you once knew was the same, had hopped at the opportunity to take his hand. Unfortunately for you though, he’d only offered to help you. (Didn't expect this to be so long T_T rushed towards the end tho cus i got eepy)

I AM SO IN LOVE W UR WRITING

THIS IS SUch a good scenario tyty

things have gotten better since then.

well, that's how it seemed anyway. you could understand why he didn't want to help your family, and though you wanted them to be just as happy as you were, there was nothing you could do about it.

you had begged him to help your family for a while but he never budged - he didn't see the problem with not helping them. they had never done anything for him, they did nothing to deserve his help, but you deserved it.

things seemed too good to be true with pantalone - his manor was beautiful, the house staff were nice and he had a beautiful garden that conveniently had your favorite flowers.

things seemed too good to be true.

your closet was filled with clothing that seemed oddly familiar, oddly reminiscent of the old clothing you once wore, clothes that fit oddly well. your shampoo smelt just like the one you once had. rings pantalone had bought you without any prior knowledge of your measurements fit very well. and each night, just before falling asleep, you could hear your favorite song playing throughout the manor.

things seemed too good to be true.

and things were too good to be true. it had never crossed your mind that pantalone had been overly kind, it never crossed your mind that perhaps pantalone had an ulterior motive.

because why would you ever assume such a thing of him?? he had only ever been a sweetheart to you, in the past and present but... it had been a lingering thought in your mind these past few days due to a few... odd encounters with pantalone.

you would catch pantalone staring or he would stare a few seconds too long, his touches lingered longer than they ought to, and sometimes odd things would slip, such as him mumbling about how 'he couldn't imagine being without you again' and how serious he sounded or when he asked about your relationship with the gardener, saying the two of you had been oddly close and how he'd 'hate to have to fire him' since he was such a diligent worker.

pantalone had changed.

but, perhaps, from the beginning, he was different; perhaps from the beginning, he had an ulterior motive in mind.

#yandere drabble #yandere x reader #pantalone #yandere pantalone #yandere pantalone x reader #genshin drabbles

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ajmasch · 7 months ago

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@here4hualian kissmas day 18: playful kiss

Xie Lian’s husband was a shapeshifter. He had a myriad of different faces and he swapped them out as easily as changing clothes depending on the occasion or his mood. His xiao-Hua form for when they visited Puqi village or when he wanted to emphasize his youthful, mischievous nature, an older form when he wanted to command attention and respect, his true form for more vulnerable moments, moments with just the two of them and close companions.

Some days, Hua Cheng preferred a female form, and Xie Lian would spend the day with his wife in a form that she had confessed drew on whatever small features she could remember of a mother who died so long ago.

Some days, Hua Cheng didn’t feel particularly human at all. On those days, Xie Lian would wake up to the feeling of a wet nose and a brush of fur against his face. He opened his eyes to the sight of a one-eyed fox, sniffing his face and wagging his tail excitedly.

“Good morning, San Lang,” Xie Lian greeted. The fox licked his face excitedly, bouncing up and down on the bed.

“Alright, alright, let me make breakfast first, then we’ll play. Okay?”

Hua Cheng yipped his agreement and scrambled down off the bed before racing towards the kitchen. Xie Lian laughed and ran after him, bare feet comfortable against the carpeted floors.

After a quick breakfast, which Hua Cheng devoured just as excitedly as he did in his human form, they made their way outside to a garden. They had a lot of games they liked to play on these types of days. If Xie Lian was more tired, he would throw objects for Hua Cheng to fetch, or watch as his husband performed wild tricks, but Hua Cheng’s favorite was when Xie Lian would wrestle with him.

They chased and tackled and rolled around, trying to pin each other down. Whoever was successful celebrated their victory with a flurry of kisses to the other, whether it was Xie Lian showering Hua Cheng’s fluffy face with kisses or Hua Cheng covering Xie Lian with nuzzles and licks.

At the end of the day, when they were all worn out, they retreated back to their bedroom. Hua Cheng curled up against Xie Lian’s side and relaxed as fingers stroked through his soft fur, lulling him to sleep.

#tgcf #merryhualiankissmas #hualian #hua cheng #xie lian #tgcf fanfic #fox hua cheng

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m-jelly · 1 year ago

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Ulterior Motive - Chapter 3

Levi x reader

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, mafia, Gangs, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Gangsters, Yakuza, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, True Love, First Love, Yandere aspects, Protective Levi Ackerman, Possessive Levi Ackerman, Tattooed Levi Ackerman, Blood and Violence, Eventual Smut, Childhood Friends

In this chapter: You spend with friends in different ways this chapter. You face your feelings and open up to Levi as you try to end the fake engagement, but Levi also confesses leading to the engagement becoming real.

Ao3

Part 4

The softness of the sofa in the hotel was incredible. Your back and head were against the seats while your legs hung over the arm. The top of your head was touching Lucas’s as he lay in the same position as you with his legs over the other arm of the sofa. It’d been a few days since you’d moved into the hotel room and you hadn’t seen Levi much, so you were lonely and wanted your friend. Lucas and Shino came over to spend time with you. Shino was sitting nicely in the armchair while you and Lucas lay on the sofa.

Shino eyed his crossword and hummed. “Bob Marley song and the second word is soldier?”

You looked over at Shino. “Buffalo soldier.”

Lucas smirked and started singing a few lines before speaking. “Damn good song.”

You wiggled your toes. “It is.”

Shino wrote down an answer to another question. “Peach is missed a lot at the club.”

Lucas groaned. “So many horny men asking us about you. It’s a bit annoying.”

You hummed a bit. “I’m sorry.”

Shino put his crossword down. “Don’t be sorry. Lucas is being an ass.” He glanced over to the front door and saw Levi enter. “Good afternoon, Mr Ackerman.”

Levi pulled his jacket off. “Afternoon. I wasn’t expecting you both here.” He walked right up to you and pressed his pelvis against the arm of the sofa, put your legs on either side of his hips and massaged your ankles. “Hello, bunny.”

You smiled at Levi. “Hello, you here for a bit again?”

He leaned over and placed his hands on either side of your head making your heart race. “I’m staying this time.” He eyed you as you panted a little from arousal. “I want to play.”

Lucas had rolled over and was smirking a bit as he gazed at Levi. “You talking about sex or something else?”

Levi looked up and locked eyes with Lucas. “How about I talk about cutting pieces of your skin off instead of you being nosey?”

You poked Levi’s squishy cheek. “Don’t threaten my friend.”

Levi looked back down at you. “Forgive me.”

Shino walked over to Lucas, grabbed him by his belt and lifted. “Come on.”

You looked upside down at Shino and Lucas. “Wow, so strong.”

Shino placed Lucas on his feet and noticed the dark look in Levi’s eyes. “I’m strong, but Mr Ackerman beats me with raw strength and power. He’s impressive.”

You looked into Levi’s eyes. “Really?”

Levi kissed your cheek. “I’m the strongest in my group.” He pulled back and turned to your friends. “I need a word with you both.”

You shifted on the sofa, sat up and grabbed the arm of the sofa. “Be nice, please?”

Levi caressed your cheek. “Don’t worry. It’s all work.”

You slipped off the sofa and hurried over to your friends. “Wait.” You hugged Lucas tightly. “Thank you for coming over.” You released Lucas and hugged Shino. “I really appreciate it. I missed you both.”

Shino smiled and hugged you back. “We missed you a lot too.”

Lucas grinned. “We missed you big time. We’ll visit again.”

You stepped back and whined a bit. “I’m glad. We’ll do something fun next time.”

Levi ruffled your hair. “I’ll set anything up you need. I’ll be right back, okay?”

You smiled. “Sure thing.” You waited for Levi to leave with your friends before going to the bedroom. You swapped your nice clothes for very comfy ones. “Better.” After dressing you moved to the sofa, put the TV on and watched a few Youtubers you liked.

Levi entered the room again and approached you. He stood behind you before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and held you. “It’s just you and me now.”

You reached up and held his arms. “Is there something you want to do?” You turned your head and smiled. “Maybe watch a movie?”

He pressed his lips against the top of your head and sighed. “Mm.”

You turned around in his arms making him release you. You cupped his face and looked into his eyes. “You seem sad.”

He smiled a little. “You know, you’re the only person who has ever been able to read all my emotions.”

“Maybe because I care and I pay attention.”

Levi wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “I just have a lot of thoughts going on. I feel like a monster.”

You rubbed his back. “You’re not a monster.”

He assessed his thoughts and your comments, he felt like a monster. Seeing you lying around with Lucas, giving them hugs, smiling at them and cuddling too. All Levi wanted to do was pick you up, run away with you and then lock you up in a comfy soft room. He’d make sure you were looked after, but you could never leave him, ever. He felt terrible that he had such dark thoughts because you were so adorable and sweet, but that was part of the problem and he was sure some man would want to take you away from him.

Levi sighed and mumbled. “I just want to lock you up and keep you as mine.”

You pulled back and gazed at him. “You want to lock me up?”

He blushed hard. “I ah…I…that was meant to be said in my head.” He lowered his head as he felt ashamed. “I told you I’m a monster.”

You gripped the back of the sofa. “Would it be a comfy soft room you lock me up in?”

He gazed at you. “What?”

You hummed a laugh. “Well, if you’re going to lock me up, you could at least give me a nice comfy room.”

Levi growled a bit before looking away. “Careful what you say.”

You climbed over the sofa and walked right up to Levi causing him to hold his breath. You leaned up towards him, your lips dangerously close. Levi didn’t know that you loved the idea of him running off with you and locking you up. You wanted Levi. You kissed the corner of his mouth before moving over to the mini-fridge.

Levi raced up to you, he grabbed you making you squeak before lifting you and sitting you on the counter. He slammed his hands on the counter on either side of your hips. He panted as he gazed into your eyes, a deep possessive desire in his eyes. He tilted his head a moment. “You’re playing with me on purpose, aren’t you? You know, it’s dangerous to play with me.”

You giggled. “Is the big bad wolf getting hungry?”

“Well, there is a delicious bunny in front of me.”

You tilted your head to the side and hummed in thought. “I might be disappointing.”

Levi massaged your hips. “Who would dare make you feel this way?”

“Just how the world is.” You hummed a laugh. “Thanks for getting angry for me.” You slung your arms over his shoulders. “So, umm…”

He placed his hands on your thighs. “Yes?”

“Have you ever thought about maybe dating and finding a serious girlfriend?”

The look he gave you was as if you had just said the most offensive word in the world. After a few beats, the look was gone and it was back to his normal stony look. He huffed. “Why would I need a girlfriend when I have you?”

You slipped from his touch. “But I’m just for pretend.” You stretched and clicked your joints. “Mm.”

Levi watched you closely and admired your body. A pretend lover is not what he wanted from you, he wanted it to be real and he was working hard on changing that. He was going to charm and woo you so you’d fall for him. Levi was going to have you, he wouldn’t dare let anyone else have you.

He softly called your name. “Are you free tomorrow?”

You tapped on your phone. “Ah, no. Do you need me for a thing?”

He stared at you. “Not really, nothing urgently. What plans do you have?”

You sat on the sofa and sighed. “The other hostesses are going to a mixer. I’m not interested, but I’m going to support the other ladies.”

He walked around the sofa and sat down as he held back his anger. “You’re going to a mixer? Even if you’re there to support your friends, there will be men after you.” He reached over and played with your hair. “How could they not want you?”

You nibbled your lip. “Mm.” You thought about his words and read his expression, he was clearly unhappy about the idea of someone else taking you from him. “Well, I was planning on keeping my engagement ring on anyway. I’m not looking for some random weird guy. I have high standards.” You smiled when you saw how happy Levi was. “I won’t let anyone near me. I’m Levi Ackerman’s fiancée.”

Levi pulled you against him. “Damn fucking right you are.”

You hummed a laugh. “You know, if you ever do meet a woman you love please don’t resist her. Let me know and I’m happy to walk away.” You reached up and touched his cheek. “I want you to be happy and in love. So, be honest with me and let me know, okay?”

He hugged you tightly. “Mm, no more talk of women or men coming into our lives.”

“Okay. Deal.”

You adjusted your dress and felt pretty, but you made sure that you appeared normal and not trying for a man. The look you were going for was a supportive friend and not looking for a date, but with the way Levi was looking at you from the doorway, you had things a bit wrong. You fixed your hair and gazed at him. “Something wrong?”

Levi pouted. “Too pretty.”

You walked over to him. “You said the other ones were too petty.”

He turned his head. “You’re too pretty.”

You poked his cheek. “You’re cute when you’re stroppy. It’s hard to leave you.”

“Then don’t.”

You hugged him. “I promised my friends.”

He hugged you back. “You’re a good person.”

You pulled back. “I try to be.”

He released a long sigh. “Do you need a lift?”

You shook your head and grabbed your bag. “No, I’m getting a lift. Thank you though.”

He followed you like he was a lost puppy. “You’ll message, right? To make sure you’re okay?”

“Of course, I’ll keep you updated.” You let Levi guide you outside to your meeting spot. “I don’t think you need to worry. It’s you I’m worried about. You haven’t been without me in the hotel room for weeks. Are you going to be okay?”

He whined a little. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to cancel?”

He shook his head. “You promised your friends. Don’t let me come between you and your friends.”

You rubbed his back as you gently smiled. “I’ll try and come home early.” You looked up as a car pulled up. “Oh, there she is. Hey Pop.”

The window rolled down and a beautiful blonde grinned brightly at you. “Sup, Peach. You ready?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

She eyed Levi. “That your fiancé? Hot stuff.”

You leaned over and kissed Levi’s cheek before whispering. “I told everyone I’m taken at work, hope that’s okay.”

Levi purred. “I was made for the role. Enjoy your time with your friends.”

You waved to him before getting in. “Ready.”

Pop drove off and smirked. “Fuck, Peach, that man is a fucking God. I bet it’s hard to keep your hands to yourself.”

You thought about how you and Levi were with each other, it was almost like you were a couple even though you were supposed to be pretending. “He’s very attentive and cuddly. He’s always touching me.”

“Lucky girl.” She sighed. “He obsessed?”

“Deeply.”

She groaned. “You’re so lucky!” Pop whined. “I wish I had that.”

You smiled at her. “You’ll find a nice man and if you don’t, that’s okay you can love and spoil yourself.”

She pulled up and winked at you. “You’re damn fucking right!” She got out and towered over you, she was such a beautiful tall blonde beauty with confidence rolling off her. “Maybe there will be a nice guy here.”

“I think there will be.”

She strutted to the BBQ place and entered first. “Looks like there are people here already. And counting the people, it looks like we’re one man down which means…” She smiled at you. “You are safe.”

You let out a long sigh. “Good.”

She led you to the sitting area and ensured you sat on the end away from everyone. She smiled as she chatted to your friends and the men that had come along. In total, there were four girls including you and three guys. While Pop seemed to gain all the attention, you nursed your drink and enjoyed your meat cooking on the hotplate on the table.

“Hey.”

You turned your head and stared at one of the men who decided to sit next to you. “Uh…hello?”

He smirked and put his arm around the back of your seat. “You looked lonely.”

“Oh, I’m here just to support my friends and keep an eye on them. Like the mum.”

He looked you up and down. “A hot mum.”

You laughed awkwardly. “Ah, right.”

“So, why are you not trying to get with a guy?”

You showed him your left hand. “I’m engaged.”

He laughed. “But you came to a mixer.”

You frowned a bit because you’d already explained why you were there. “Well, as I said before, I’m here to keep an eye on everyone as the mum of the group. Just pretend I’m not here.”

“That’s impossible because you’re hot.”

“Umm, I’m engaged. I’m not looking for someone.”

He shuffled closer. “But I am.” He yelped in pain when someone bent back his hand. “The fuck!?”

You looked up and felt your heart race. “Levi.”

Levi was in a tight white shirt and smart trousers, though he was dressed down he still looked like he meant business and commanded respect. “Tch, she’s taken, asshole.” He released his hand. “These the type of men you invited to your mixer?”

Pop pouted. “Damn loser hitting on a taken woman! Sorry, Levi.”

Levi wiped his hands clean. “I brought friends who are better than these men.”

As he cleaned up and the three men ran off, the room began to fill with attractive young and old men from Levi’s gang. All were respectful and charming to your friends. It made you think that you should have gotten Levi to organise the mixer so your friends could meet decent men. You knew that these men would be kind and good because Levi was their boss and he taught them well.

Levi sat next to you and sighed. “Damn scum.” He looked over at you to see you were staring with a cute smile. Blood rushed to Levi’s cheeks making them a cute pink. “Tch, what?”

“You missed me so much you had to crash my mixer?”

He pouted and looked away as he put his arm over the back of your chair. “I was in the area.”

“Uh-huh.” It was a lie, you knew it but he wouldn’t fully admit it yet that he missed you. “You know, if you wanted to come you could have asked.”

His eyes widened as he contemplated your words. “I didn’t think it was an option. Huh…” He ruffled his hair as he felt slightly silly. “Well, I’m here now so you don’t have to be sad anymore and miss me.”

“Sure, sure.”

He picked up a menu and pretended to scan it with his eyes. “Hmm, not bad.”

You smirked. “You own this place, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

You bumped your body against his. “Knew it. All the best places are owned by you. You set a good standard and target for them to meet.”

He tossed the menu on the table. “I want families to have a good time at my restaurants, just like I did as a kid.”

“Well, I was having an okay time, but it became great after a while.”

His steel blue eyes sparkled as they captured you, he had no idea what you were on about but he was excited to learn where this was going. “What made it better? I would like to know so I could put that in place elsewhere.”

You giggled. “Well, that might be hard.”

“Why?” Confusion was etched on his face, he was cute like this.”

“Well, it got better when you arrived.”

The cute crimson colour returned to his biteable cheeks. “Oh…well…thank you. You also make everything better.”

You hummed a laugh and began cooking some meat on the hotplate. You placed everything on some rice and scooted up to Levi. “Let me feed you.”

Levi whined a little. “S-Sure.”

You smiled as you fed him some meat. “Is it cooked to your liking?”

“Mm, yes.” He licked his lips. “You know, you don’t have to do this. I don’t think people are looking.”

You frowned at his comment before it clicked. “Oh, well I wasn’t thinking about making a show for others. I was just wanting to do this for you.”

Levi grabbed the bowl and leaned closer to your lips. “And what about you?” His gaze was so alluring and intense. “You should eat something.”

You gulped hard as a strong feeling and desire bubbled up. No matter how much you fought this feeling, you knew you wanted to kiss Levi. Your heart throbbed for Levi. The feelings you had for this man were screaming at you, you were in deep and you had loved this man since you were a kid. It stung your heart because you were sure a man as wonderful as him wouldn’t want a woman like you.

“Hey.” The softness of Levi’s voice snapped you out of your dark thoughts. He gently caressed your cheek. “Is everything okay? You look really sad, almost broken.”

You tapped your head against his shoulder as you fought tears. “I umm…can we go somewhere to talk?”

He peered at your face and knew this was serious and needed to be said in private. “Of course. We’re close to my place. Will that be okay?”

You hummed and nodded weakly. “Yes.”

He slipped out of his seat, took your hand and softly spoke to Pop about why you were leaving. It seemed your friends were very understanding, you were sure they had seen your tears. After speaking to them Levi guided you out of the restaurant. You were surprised that you weren’t ushered into a car but instead led down the street to a large apartment block. The lift smoothly took you both up to the very top floor, the penthouse, which was very spacious and modern. Everything was spotless and clean within it, which most would assume was done by a maid but you knew Levi had cleaned the place. All the latest gadgets were there to aid Levi in his cleaning and busy life.

Levi walked past you. “Do you want something to drink? Change of clothes?”

You clenched up tightly as your emotions burst out of you. “I can’t be your fake fiancée anymore.”

He froze on the spot as his stomach dropped. As he slowly turned to you he saw the emotions running through him and darkness seeped inside him, you couldn’t leave him, he wouldn’t allow it, you were his and he deeply loved you. However, he needed to stay in control. You were in pain and he had to care for you. He couldn’t overreact.

He released a long sigh. “Explain.”

You rubbed your tears away. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t.”

He walked closer and sternly said your name. “Why?”

You shook on the spot, you didn’t want to admit your feelings but you knew you had no choice. Once you uttered the next few words, you knew your friendship was over. “Because I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I can’t pretend to be your fiancée anymore, I just can’t because I so badly want it to be real.”

All of Levi’s hopes for the two of you were real, you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. It was a dream come true for me. Compelled by his emotions, Levi wrapped his arm around you with his hand on your lower back. He tugged you against him as his other hand tangled in your hair. His lips crashed against yours in a passionate but messy kiss due to emotions being raw and out in the open. The two of you clung together as your tongues moved together, you were both greedy for each other and it was clear by the way you were kissing and touching each other.

Levi pulled from your lips and panted. “Be my real fiancée.”

Your heart raced. “Wh-what?”

He cupped your face and moaned your name as a lovesick look took over his eyes. “I’ve been in love with you ever since we were kids. I will admit that making you my fake fiancée was a ploy to keep you close.” He gripped your upper arms. “I refuse to let you go. I wanted you as mine.” He gazed at you. “I just loved you so much and so deeply. I didn’t want another man to have you.” He lowered his head. “It’s why I get possessive and jealous when men touch you and get close to you.” He released you and put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m just crazy about you. I love you. I just love you.”

“Levi, look at me.”

He looked up at you. “Yes?”

You smiled at him. “Do you really love me?”

“Fuck, yes.”

You threw yourself at Levi and held him tightly. “Mm. Good.”

Levi held you as he said your name. “I will warn you, if you say you are mine and we’re together I will be possessive, protective and deeply loving. I’ll want to be with you all the time. I’ll want to spoil you. I’ll want to give you all my love. It might be too much, so please tell me if it is too much.”

You gazed at him with a sparkle in your eyes, if only he knew that you would be the same. You smiled. “You know, I’m just as crazy.”

Levi felt a rush of excitement. “I knew it. You’re my soulmate.” He held your hands and showered them with kisses. “So, what do you say? Will you be my fiancée? Will you marry me? Will you be mine for life and beyond?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

His lips crashed against yours again. “Mine.” He kissed you again and sighed. “You’ll move in with me, right?”

You pressed your face against his chest and hummed. “Yes.”

Levi hugged you. “Mine.” He released you. “I need to get you moved in!”

You watched in awe as he started making calls. “Umm…”

Levi smiled at you. “All under control. Why don’t you get changed and relax my little bunny.”

You nodded and felt like you were in a daze. You patted your cheeks as your heart fluttered. You came to a stop before his wardrobe and then chose some comfy clothes of his and changed. After feeling comfy and surrounded by Levi’s perfect scent made you happy. You shuffled out of the bedroom and watched Levi as he gave people orders as they moved your things.

Levi stormed over to you causing you to giggle. “Come here.” He picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. “Naughty bunny.”

You squealed in delight. “Levi.”

He threw you on the bed before crawling over you. “Stay here. I don’t want anyone to see how adorable you look.” His lips met yours again. “You’re so pretty.”

You covered your mouth with your hands as you felt flustered. “Thank you, handsome.”

He leaned down and gently pressed his lips against your chest where your racing heart lay. “I hope my love seeps into your heart.”

“It does.”

Levi climbed off you and put a blanket over you. “Rest easy, okay?”

You curled up a bit. “I will.”

He handed you a remote. “Watch anything you want. I’ll be back.” After dealing with moving your things into his home, he made sure your clothes were left in boxes by the bedroom door. Levi refused to disturb you while you were resting. When the chaos was over, he went in and checked on you to find you softly sleeping. “Adorable.” Levi changed into comfy clothes and ruffled his hair before lying on his bed next to you. He smiled knowing that he had succeeded in getting you as his. He wrapped his arms around you as he said your name. “I love you.”