#everyone did excellent and i am proud of them

[uniquexusposts]

A false music degree | L. Hamilton

Summary: Lewis, Y/n and friends were having a game night. Lewis and Y/n didn't know they are in love, but their friends knew.

The living room was alive with noise, half-empty snack bowls scattered across the table, and a pile of game cards thrown haphazardly to the side. It was the kind of chaos that made the evening feel like a scene straight out of a sitcom, everyone laughing, chatting, and trying to beat each other at a game of Hitster. There were six of them in total, and once again, Lewis and Y/n found themselves ‘accidentally’ teamed up.

“This is a terrible idea,” one of their friends muttered as they shuffled the cards, clearly not impressed by the duo’s earlier antics.

“Why? We make an excellent team,” Lewis said confidently, nudging Y/n’s knee with his own under the table, a casual gesture that had somehow become their default.

Y/n rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed but secretly enjoying the camaraderie. “We lost the last two rounds,” she reminded him, trying to focus on the game rather than the persistent, annoying warmth she felt from his touch.

“Yeah, but we lost with style,” he shot back, his grin so wide and easy that it was almost impossible to resist.

Their friends exchanged knowing glances but remained quiet. Everyone in the room had witnessed it; the constant, subtle way Lewis and Y/n acted as if they weren’t fully aware of the chemistry between them. Like they did for the past two years. It was impossible to ignore how they seemed to end up next to each other in every game, every conversation, and how they always exchanged those little looks that spoke volumes.

“Alright, next song,” their friend finally announced, pulling a card from the deck. The music immediately started, an old-school R&B hit that no one could resist grooving to.

Lewis snapped his fingers, instantly recognising the tune. “Oh, oh, I know this one!” He turned to Y/n, as if this was the moment they’d been waiting for. “C’mon, tell me you know this.”

Y/n squinted at the phone playing the song, her brow furrowed. “I do, but… oh my god, I have no clue when it came out.” She wasn’t even sure what year this song belonged to, but there was no way she was admitting that. “I mean, was I even born? And how old would I be then?”

“You’re killing me, Y/n,” Lewis groaned dramatically, throwing himself back in his chair with exaggerated frustration.

“Hey, I thought you were the music expert!” she retorted, giving him a playful shove.

“I am, but I need teamwork, woman,” Lewis said, laughing.

The whole room seemed to stop as they leaned in closer to one another. Heads bent together, whispering possible years back and forth, exchanging guesses like they were solving a world-class mystery. It was a moment of absolute focus. Their knees, pressed against each other, a shared space that neither of them seemed inclined to move away from. Lewis’s hand rested on Y/n’s arm, his fingers absentmindedly tapping on her skin as they tried to figure out the song.

The rest of the group exchanged another round of looks, eyes widening at the pair’s unspoken connection. It wasn’t lost on anyone that their friends were now sitting at a front-row seat to what felt like the most painfully obvious romantic chemistry.

“You two done flirting or?” one of them finally muttered under their breath, the teasing tone clear, but neither Lewis nor Y/n heard it.

“2004,” Y/n blurted out, proud of herself for making a guess. “I think.”

Lewis gasped dramatically. “That’s so wrong.” He shook his head as though it was the most absurd guess possible.

“Well, what’s your guess, genius?” she challenged, already preparing for him to overestimate his own musical prowess.

“2002,” he said confidently.

Their friend flipped the card over. 2003.

The entire group erupted into laughter as Lewis and Y/n stared at each other in horror.

“I hate us,” Y/n groaned, slumping into the couch, her face burning from the embarrassment.

“I love us,” Lewis corrected, his arm casually draping over her shoulders without a second thought.

The room went eerily quiet at that, the playful atmosphere evaporating like water under the sun. The words were out there, hanging in the air like an unexpected confession. It was the kind of thing that people noticed, and yet Lewis and Y/n just stared at each other, unable to break the sudden weight that filled the space.

It took Y/n exactly three seconds to notice the heavy weight of Lewis’s arm around her. It wasn’t like it was the first time, but this time felt different. Her throat went dry, and she cleared it, eyes darting to the others in the room as she tried to find her voice.

“Uh,” she said, fidgeting awkwardly, suddenly too aware of how close they were.

Lewis blinked, glancing at his hand like he had no idea how it ended up there. His eyes flickered back to hers, his lips twitching as if he were about to say something, but nothing came out. He was equally speechless.

And then, like the complete idiots they were, they just… moved on. Pretended nothing happened. The awkward silence was quickly covered by a forced chuckle, and they picked up the next card as if nothing had shifted between them.

The game continued, but the atmosphere had undeniably changed. It wasn’t just about the playful banter anymore; it was about the unspoken tension that hung in the air, thick and undeniable. Every word between them felt charged, every glance seemed heavier, and every touch lingered just a little too long.

“So, uh, next round?” one of their friends said, clearly trying to steer the group back to normalcy.

Y/n forced a grin, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had suddenly settled over her. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s do this.”

But even as she reached for the next card, she couldn’t help but notice the small thrill that ran through her when Lewis’s knee bumped hers under the table. It was a casual gesture, something he’d done a hundred times without thinking, but this time, it felt like electricity. She quickly looked up at him from the corner of her eye. His expression was unreadable, but there was something about it that made her heart beat faster.

Another song played, and this time, their friend shot them a pointed look. “You two better get this one right. If not, I’m kicking you off the team.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me,” their friend teased, clearly not taking them seriously.

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, the sound escaping before she could stop it. “Alright, alright. No pressure.”

The familiar energy of the game took over again, but this time, something was different. They both leaned in closer than they probably should have. Every instinct told them they were being ridiculous, but the way they were so easily in sync, even when they were wrong, kept pulling them closer.

“I got this,” Lewis muttered, tapping his fingers on the table, clearly pleased with his guess.

Y/n smirked. “Are you sure? You were so confident last time.”

His grin widened. “Trust me. 2010.”

Y/n paused for a moment. “2010?” She shook her head. “No way. It’s older than that.”

Lewis leaned back in his chair, watching her with that same knowing look he always had. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” Y/n insisted, voice laced with mock seriousness. “I’m saying 2009.”

Their friend flipped the card over. “2008.”

“You are sacked,” Y/n emotionlessly said. “Contract not extended.”

A collective groan echoed around the room, and the laughter that followed was inevitable. But this time, it was different. It wasn’t just about the game anymore. It was about them; about the way they were constantly in sync, even when they didn’t want to be.

“I’m starting to think we’re just here for the comedy,” Y/n muttered, burying her face in her hands.

Lewis, on the other hand, looked entirely too pleased with himself. “Well, we’re a great team, whether we win or lose.”

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? The way they worked so well together, how they were constantly in sync without even trying. They had always joked about it, pretending it didn’t matter, pretending they weren’t the slightest bit affected by it. But now, in the quiet aftermath of their last game, it felt like they were lying to themselves.

Their friends, of course, weren’t fooled for a second.

“You know, we’re not blind,” one of them finally said, breaking the silence with a teasing tone. “You two are, like, a walking rom-com at this point.”

Y/n’s face turned bright red, and she quickly glanced over at Lewis, who suddenly found the table to be incredibly interesting.

“Shut up,” she mumbled, trying to hide her embarrassment behind a laugh.

Lewis shrugged innocently, his grin widening. “Hey, we’ve got chemistry. That’s all that matters, right?”

And as much as Y/n wanted to protest, as much as she wanted to deny that anything was happening, she couldn’t help but feel a flutter in her chest at the way he said it. Maybe they were just two idiots playing a game. Maybe they were just a couple of people who liked each other in their own messed-up way.

But deep down, she knew it was more than that.

And so did he.

The problem was, neither of them was brave enough to admit it yet.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @ironmaiden1313 @sltwins @heart-trees @npcmia @llando4norris

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

What do you think about the finale? Anything you wanna change/add? Not just in the finale ep but in the show in general.

So, my thoughts on Episode 12…And let me preface this by saying that the actors all did a fantastic job. This isn't about their acting or portrayals. I love them and they deserve all the praise.

But as for the finale...

It was just…ok. 

There were cute moments that I really liked and moments that I really loved. But there were a lot of things that I didn’t like at all. (And this doesn’t mean I hate the show! I still enjoyed watching it. It has been such a fun time, you guys!!! But I still have my issues with it)

Good things I loved. Style and his unending love/lust for Fadel. That man worked his ass off so he could BUY FADEL HIS RESTAURANT BACK!!! That is true love right there!!! And he looked hot AF the whole episode. That outfit he was wearing when he was lamenting to the captain about how much he missed Fadel and his dick was just…perfection lol 

I also loved how Fadel kept trying to keep a straight face and be serious. (because he’s in jail and it’s SERIOUS) but he couldn’t, because he loves Style so much that he can’t help but give into his ridiculous demands and smile every time he sees his face. 

I loved their bed scene at the end, where they bring back the 100%...and the making out. All the making out….

I liked Kant’s plan this time. I mean, they could have held out a little longer….but like…in the grand scheme of things, sneaking in as a teacher isn’t terrible. And they were actually teaching. (even though Fadel says he didn’t learn anything, I think that is a lie lol) So they were helping other inmates alongside just seeing and sneaking some make out session with their boyfriends. 

I liked Kant and Bison going to see the northern lights. 

I liked Style’s dad being ok with Fadel being a hitman. Like that man didn’t even sweat it. In fact, he was like…no…this makes sense. My son is friends with car thieves and people that forge ID’s…why not add a hitman to the list? Maybe he’ll calm his ass down. And he is so real for that. 

So, yeah. I liked some things, but I also have some gripes. 

Number one being, bringing Khun Lilly back for ten minutes at the end to stir up unnecessary drama. There was literally zero need for her to come back. It didn’t add anything to the narrative at all. Other than showing that Fadel and Bison are, in fact, willing to kill her. (but again, we didn’t actually see her die…so what was the point???) And who cleaned that whole thing up? How did they get away with poisoning her??? Because if it was that easy, they should have done that in episode 11, since her ass wasn’t going to go to jail for very long anyways. And why bring in Jay and Babe?? Just to show them the truth about Fadel and Bison?? But even then, neither of them care so it doesn’t matter anyways???? It was just really dumb to shove that in there. 

AND I don’t believe for a second that they came out of jail penniless. It makes sense for the police or someone to have seized their property, ie the house and restaurant, but before they got accosted by Cap Chris, they were already on their way to running. They had fake passports and had their shit packed. They had MONEY. They had stuff set up for them to live their lives on the run. So, you can’t tell me that they just…handed over everything. Fadel and Style in particular would have set something up for Fadel to have access to anything he squirreled away. 

Ok, So gripe number two: The whole prison thing. It was set up so fucking weird. Like, I don’t mind prison stories or shows when they are done correctly and show/talk about the hard AF things that happen in prison and what inmates go through and how it changes/affects their lives going forward, (they make my stomach twist when watching them but If done right I tend to do ok with them) but this show was NOT that kind of show. 

They did try to show it a little bit with Bison being sexually harassed, but then it just…goes away. No one bothers them. They aren’t really that distraught about being there either. There’s no internal or external struggle for control or fear or anything. There’s never any authority figures harassing them. They are pretty much left to their own devices. And then their boyfriends show up and it’s like…they get to cook and take classes and make out with their boyfriends. Which, yeah, FEELS good in the moment because we don’t actually want them to be a sad, suffering mess, but that is the WHOLE point of them going to JAIL. That was why the emotions were so fucking HIGH in episode 11, because they knew they were going to have a BAD time in jail and Kant and Style were going to MISS them. 

So, again, what was the point???

And the weird timeline things. Like, you mean to tell me that Bison never saw anyone fucking until year 3??? When he and KANT were fucking the first day Kant showed up as a teacher?? I know they were trying to do a birthday thing, but it fell so flat because it didn’t make sense. AND the whole Fadel being upset thing. That would have worked so much better in year one or two. When he is still feeling a bit raw and maybe still thinking that Style should go on and live his life without him. That Style deserves better and should focus on himself and not Fadel. Because Style has his whole life ahead of him and Fadel is just going to be a felon. 

If they had done this in year one or two it would have hit JUST right. And if they had expanded on it and made it more about Fadel wanting Style to be free of him, and not about Fadel getting his hopes up or his expectations crushed, it would have been so GOOD, but they slid it sometime into year FOUR!!! He had a little more than a year left. At that point it doesn’t make sense for Fadel to say those things or push Style away. He’s literally months away from freedom. So, that was a HUGE gripe from me. 

The emotions also felt pretty flat this episode, and maybe that’s because episode 11 was such a rollercoaster, but even the happy feelings that we were probably supposed to feel, just didn’t land for me. They really didn’t. Like I was happy that they got to be together and not miss each other but it didn’t feel realistic. And I LOVED that Style got the restaurant. But I felt like Fadel’s reaction to that was a little too chill. Like Fadel still doesn’t show his emotions outwardly too often, but he DOES to STYLE. So, I think he would have shown more emotion there and would have had a deeper talk about how much that gesture meant to him. 

KantBison felt flat to me too. And i DIDN’T want them to. Because I love those two, especially FirstKhao, but yeah, they still didn’t draw me in. (Loved watching them make out though. The chemistry is chemistrying lol)

Anyways, those are the things I can think of off the top of my head about the finale, and since this is so long, I may make a different post later about things I would have changed and things that were done super well.

[yuujispinkhair]

its time for single dad!kuna and his albino kiddo, uraume x elementary teacher!y/n

OMGGG THAT SOUNDS SO COMFORTING AND SWEET 💗😭 Okay I had to write this! I hope you like it!

Single Dad!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. 800 words. Divider @/chilumitos

When you start your job at the new school, everyone warns you about a certain pink-haired, tattooed dad.

"Oh you have Uraume in your class? Well, good luck then."

"Why?"

"Oh, it's not the child that is the problem. It's the dad!"

Your coworkers tell you about this huge, grumpy man who always barks out orders and complains left and right the whole time because he thinks his child isn't getting treated correctly.

When you first meet Sukuna, you really are intimidated by him. He is tall and muscular, almost filling out the whole doorway and towering over you. A very attractive man, but scary with those tattoos that tell you he must lead a life in crime or at least must have been involved in something like that at some point. He sneers at you while his eyes sparkle threateningly,

"A new teacher, huh? I sure hope you will do a better job than the ones before you. I won't accept any carelessness when it comes to looking after my child!"

Sukuna's voice is harsh, and his gaze is full of anger. But you listen patiently to him and realize that this is just a man who is worried about his child. A child who doesn't really have any friends and is sick all the time and gets bullied for it.

You can understand Sukuna. Can understand the helpless anger you see in those maroon eyes. Like a tiger who is ready to kill for his cub but doesn't know how to handle the everyday tragedy of his child being an outcast in school.

You smile warmly at him and tell him in a soft voice,

"I understand that, Mr Itadori. You are worried about Uraume. I promise you that I will have a close eye on them. I won't look away when someone bullies them. Uraume is a lovely child and amazing the way they are. I will do my best to guide them on their way to becoming a confident and happy person. Thank you for coming to me with your worries."

And you see this big, bad, angry man falter and blink at you in confusion because, apparently, none of the other teachers ever reacted the way you did. But he catches himself after a moment and tells you he will watch you closely before he leaves without a farewell.

You keep your word and look after Uraume, praising the child for the exercises they excel in and sitting the whole class down to discuss with them that it's not okay to make fun of others for the way they look, etc. Teaching them that everyone is different and that this is okay. You even assign group projects, where you pair Uraume up with some kids who you know are sweet and won't be cruel to them.

Three weeks later, you walk out of the school in the afternoon when all the kids have already left, jumping when a low voice speaks up next to you. Sukuna is leaning against the wall of the building, smirking at you, maroon eyes wandering curiously over you,

"I came to thank you, Miss. Uraume told me about how much fun they are having at school now and that they even found two little friends. They told me you are the best teacher in the world."

You break out into a big smile, eyes filled with happiness,

"I am so happy to hear that! Uraume is doing so well! I am so proud of them and so happy that they enjoy coming to school now!"

And Sukuna pushes himself off the wall, taking a step closer to you. So tall and broad, but he doesn't seem all that intimidating anymore. There's a little smile tugging at his lips, and his intelligent eyes are warm when he tells you in a low, velvety voice,

"All the other teachers ignored my complaints or refused to talk to me anymore and sent me to the principal, who was just as incompetent. You are the first one who took my words into account and let actions follow. I thought this school was a hellhole, but you changed my mind."

You chuckle softly, feeling a bit flustered at the intense gaze out of those beautiful maroon eyes and the praise coming from this attractive man.

"Thank you, Mr Itadori. I am glad."

"Sukuna."

"Hm?"

"Call me Sukuna, please. It will sound nicer if you call me by my first name while we have coffee together."

And with that, his grin grows broader, and he jerks his tattooed chin toward the little café down the road, making your heart flutter excitedly as you smile back at him and nod softly,

"Yes, that sounds really nice, Sukuna."

[kirbmey]

— teacher!jayce headcanons ( • ̀ω•́ )✧

synopsis: where jayce becomes a teacher after the arcane exploded and you play around with his head <3

tw: not canon, jayce (and viktor obviously) live after the arcane explosion, he’s 32 and reader is 20, inspired by lana del rey idk if that makes sense, suggestive, power abuse if you squint, trauma mentions, etc.

teacher!jayce who you met in your first class of rune knowledge, finding his broad shoulders and tall frame attractive since minute one.

teacher!jayce who never bothered to cut his hair or even shave after the incident, too busy studying ways to understand what happened that day.

teacher!jayce who happens to be very messy when it comes to anything. his desk is covered in exams and projects ready to correct, coffee stains on the table.

teacher!jayce who gives you back your hextech project with one of said stains, giving you an apologetic look, almost resembling a stray puppy.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“that’s okay, professor, don’t you worry.” you reassured the man with a manicured hand covering his shoulder, giving him a little squeeze that he ended up noticing.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“you did an excellent job with this one, i’m proud of you.” he answered with a tender voice, smiling wide enough to see the gap between his teeth.

teacher!jayce who you’ve heard never been the same ever since the incident. he used to be always excited, bright as the sun itself, lighting up every room he stepped in. the man of progress, the golden boy.

teacher!jayce who’s a lot more mature now, more muted but still a warm presence. people attach this to some traumas he might’ve developed in the past.

teacher!jayce who’s not oblivious on how you manage to wear the stoic academy uniform in the cutest way possible, having it sewed so the skirt is way shorter and the shirt way tighter.

teacher!jayce who’s just a man, at the end of the day.

teacher!jayce who gives you an special treatment; you’re his favorite, teacher’s pet, and he’s not really good at hiding it.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“but it’s pouring outside! can’t you just make an exception, professor?” a classmate yelled from the back of the room, you rolled your eyes at his tone.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i am really sorry, but the council made clear that the classrooms must be empty during breaks.” he stated, brushing his long hair back while siting on the edge of his desk. “you may leave now, you should get going to the cafeteria.” he ended with a tender smile as he pointed the big exit.

everyone left the classroom annoyed by the teacher’s orders, and you were no different. while packing your things and making your way to the big wooden doors he stopped you by holding your hand, still sat down.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“I didn’t say anything about you, did I?” he inquires, gaining a small chuckle in response from you. he pulled your hand so you stood closer to him, almost feeling his breath fanning against your forehead.

you locked gazes with him, starring at his honey-like eyes before pulling away. he smirked at your actions, bending around to grab the back of his seat and pulling it close to you.

you took note on how his biceps flexed at the force he made and how his thighs became bigger against the wood, siting down when he looked at you again.

during brake, you would be siting on his chair while munching on your breakfast as he looked at you sipping on his coffee, rubbing momentarily his leg against your arm as you both talked about banal things.

teacher!jayce who doesn’t deny you anything, not a good grade, he doesn’t deny when you ask to do the group project alone or when you request his help after class.

a/n: first arcane writing yay! ( ੭ ･ᴗ･ )੭ I’ve been a victim of the jayvik brainroot since s2, I can’t get them out of my head lawrd.

— masterlist.

[lurkingshan]

Hey Shan!! IDK if you're planning to do a BL wrap up or superlatives or anything like that this year so this question might be a bit too early but um...what has been a few of your favorite first watches for 2024 bls?

Hi Eboni! This is actually pretty good timing for a list because most of the shows that will end within 2024 are already over! The only two I could see maybe making my list that have not ended yet are Love is Like a Poison (Japan) and Blue Canvas of Youthful Days (China), so I'll mention them here (fingers crossed they end well and stay favs).

That said, here are my favorite completed BLs of 2024 (alpha order)!

At 25:00 in Akasaka (Japan, Gaga)

Two actors who first met in college are cast in a bl together, old feelings resurface, and the lines between their professional and private lives start to blur. This show is super beautiful and moody.

Cooking Crush (Thailand, YouTube or WeTV for uncut)

Ten and Prem are my favorite of OffGun's many couples. Ten is a med student with food issues who wants to learn how to cook, and Prem is a chef in training. Their romance is super sweet and I also really like the side couple and friend groups in this one.

Cherry Magic Thailand (Thailand, YouTube or Viu, requires VPN)

I still can't believe this show happened. How on earth did GMMTV manage to make a superior version of Cherry Magic?? Tay Tawan had a lot to do with it, along with a very smart adaptation. It's so sweet and funny and perfect (if you just pretend ep 8 doesn't exist).

City of Stars (Thailand, iQIYI)

I was surprised by how much I liked this charming little Thai pulp. It had an interesting story with strong writing and the pair was very good together. More people should watch it!

I Became the Main Role of a BL Drama (Japan, Gaga)

This is a short and sweet and note perfect BL comedy about two actors falling for each other while making a BL. Loaded with meta jokes about the industry and stan culture and very loving about it.

Knock Knock Boys (Thailand, Gaga)

I am obsessed with this excellent Thai BL that not nearly enough people watched. Two couples, both compelling and sexy and fun, and amazing friendship dynamics. I want everyone to watch it!

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (S Korea, iQIYI)

My top BL of the year. It's a second chance romance, you see the characters both in high school and later as adults and I don't really want to spoil anything else about it. It's beautiful, the characters are so compelling, and the story is masterfully told.

Love for Love's Sake (S Korea, iQIYI)

This one is special and quite unique, and I also don't want to spoil much about it! It begins with a basic isekai set up that then goes to some unexpected places. Really, really beautiful show.

Love Sea (Thailand, iQIYI)

Definitely my favorite spicy romance of the year. I really loved a lot about the story for this one, in particular the class dynamics that defined the characters and their relationship, and Mahasamut (played by Fort) is on my list of favorite drama characters this year.

Marahuyo Project (Philippines, YouTube)

We didn't get much from the Philippines this year, but they did drop one absolute banger in this show about a fierce and proud gay kid who gets booted out of school in Manila and sent to live with his grandma and mother on a small island. He makes friends and enemies and starts an LGBTQ+ club, and falls in love along the way.

Mr Mitsuya's Planned Feeding (Japan, fansub)

An excellent age gap romance about a young editor and the chef who writes for his magazine making food together and falling in love. Lots of fun side characters, too. I loved every minute of this show.

Perfect Propose (Japan, Gaga)

Two old friends meet when one of them is in need of housing and one is on the verge of a nervous breakdown from a soul-sucking corporate job, and help each other heal. This one is short and sweet.

Ossan's Love Returns (Japan, Gaga)

This one is technically a sequel, but you can enjoy it without having seen the original (and might like it better that way, tbh). One of the funniest shows of the year and featuring a main couple that is a personal fav and are now on my ride or die list.

Takara's Treasure (Japan, Gaga)

This one is a simple story but so, so sweet. A cute little bean follows his mysterious idol to university and joins the hiking club to get to know him better. They get to know each other slowly and fall in love.

Unknown (Taiwan, Viki)

ALMOST my favorite bl of the year, but we had a few issues on the back end. Despite that, I still loved it a whole lot. A family drama and a love story about two chosen brothers whose relationship changes over time. Easily the best BL Taiwan made this year.

Looking at this list, I am realizing how absolutely invaluable my Gaga and iQIYI subscriptions have become; it's where nearly all my favorite BL is airing.

[bengiyo]

Ben's Big BL Blurb

I was traveling for a few weeks, and there's no way I'm doing individual posts for every show I've been watching, so here's my thoughts on all of the shows I'm currently enjoying, in the order I'm most enjoying them.

Twilight Out of Focus

This show is fucking excellent. I'm not that keen on taking a break from our leads to see other couples, but I do like that BL continues to be the way that these guys are figuring out they're attracted to each other. Mao moving so smoothly into his boyfriend era, and knowing how he's feeling, has been excellent. I also really loved Hisashi knowing they needed to not be together all the time.

The Trainee

Jane is so attractive, and I'm so happy for Off. This latest episode was a lot of fun to watch for Ryan, because it's nice seeing him be more actively engaged in things happening around him. Pai seems far more settled now that she knows she has a place. Pah is clearly still a mess. Tae seems like he's good at what he does. Ba-Mhee falling for Judy is NOT IDEAL, and Judy is over the line.

Overall, I'm actually interested in seeing them mirror interns crushing on their mentors with two different pairings as a point of comparison. I also like how every week feels like the work goals make sense.

The Miracle of Teddy Bear

Besties, so much is happening in this show. There is daddy drama, wife drama, dead son drama, and so much more! These episodes are so long, but I'm really engaged with everything happening on this show. Job and Inn are really fucking good in this.

I Hear the Sunspot

I'm so glad that Kohei made his feelings clear, and I'm enjoying seeing Taichi figure out how to respond to them. We once again had a camping trip that did not give me what I wanted, but I did like Kohei being clear that he's still interested in Taichi. Finally, I liked the little confirmations that Kohei is taking to sign, and that Taichi is interested in that journey.

Knock Knock, Boys!

I'm so proud of Best! He has played Peak in this restrained way for so long, and it paid off in this most recent episode. I love that this story started with a gay man running from himself and his feelings, who then realizes that he can't run away from people who care about him anymore because they won't let him. I love that everyone being patient with him gave him what he needed to finally accept himself and say what he needed. I've really loved the way Thanwa tries to support Peak.

I'm also overjoyed for Almond and Latte, and I need them to fuck nasty before this show ends or I will be so disappointed. Latte is quietly one of my blorbos of the year with the way he is always clear about who he is and what he wants even as he is okay with where Almond is in the moment. They're an excellent pair.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

RISA IS OFF THE BESTIE LIST FOREVER! I will never forgive her for outing Hiroko to Ayaka just so she could ask Ayaka to choose her instead. Also, fuck those Bettys at the bar, who definitely know Hiroko's business, and that she's not out at work. Why talk about her to a stranger who called her senpai?? I'm relieved that Hiroko knows that Ayaka likes women now, and am curious how we move forward at this point.

I also need to know who this woman was who hurt Hiroko, because nothing makes me sadder than when we have to hide from other queers.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

Thanks to @isaksbestpillow I was actually able to start this on my trip. I didn't want to start a show on a trip, but I could not resist. I really love that Ishida is in his late 20s and struggling with direction and purpose after his initial plan blew up in his face. I love that he's recognized so quickly that he's developed feelings for Mitsuya-sensei, and I love that Mitsuya-sensei is open about who he is. It's about goddamned time that we saw an age gap story of this kind, because so many meaningful relationships I've had are with gay men older than me.

Takara's Treasure

This quiet little show makes me so happy every week. I just desperately need for Taishin to figure out what he's feeling, and for people to help him realize what he's feeling. Takara's my favorite kind of pretty boy: the ones who are obviously and poorly masking incredibly turmoil. I love that Taishin sees through this and wants to help Takara. Excited for him to get to take care of him when Takara gets sick.

Century of Love

I've been having a lot of fun with this show, but episode 8 felt like a huge wobble. I love that San was so committed to Vee the whole time, but the back and forth about the stone was tedious. San giving up the stone as a way to signify that he was over the memory of Vad was nice, but we didn't reconcile Vee's theft and the emotional cost of that.

Love Sea

MAHASAMUT!! WE FINALLY BEAT THAT NASTY OLD MAN'S ASS!! Mut trampling over a bullshit breakup and kicking Rak's dad's ass instead was so satisfying that it almost makes up for Mut having little identity outside of his relationship to Rake, or the terrible arc that Mook and Vie are having, over the last few weeks. I have been playing Stomp for the last few hours because I needed them to kick that man. Mut did not hit him enough.

New Shows

There's a bunch of stuff I have to sort out over the next few days. I'm not going back to My Love Mix Up TH, but I do plan to start 4 Minutes. There's also another J-BL in the grey I got some help finding called Sugar Dog Life.

Shout out to @lurkingshan for helping me watch a few things while I was gone, and also @twig-tea for keeping me apprised of which new shows I probably need to pick up.

[forzarma]

world’s best teacher

lewis hamilton x fem! Reader x students

A/N: i couldn’t stop thinking about this so i had to do it😭(not proofread)

10 years ago, you found out you were pregnant. You were buzzing, but your happiness unfortunately didn’t last long as you discovered you had a miscarriage. Your life was miserable, but thank God, Lewis was with you through your ups and downs. After 12 years of marriage, you’re still together, stronger than ever.

After 3 years of your miscarriage, you decided to go back to work as a school teacher. After you got pregnant with twins in 2017, it lightened up your life.

You can’t say being a teacher is an easy thing, if you’re being honest, but you love your students to the moon and back. You even treat them as your kids.

Of course, they know that their teacher is married to one of the best F1 drivers in history, if not the best, and they love it. They don’t go a day without mentioning how you are their favorite.

They even met your kids multiple times before, during school events where you brought them with you.

“Good morning, everyone,” you say as you enter the classroom.

“Good morning, Ms.,” they say back.

You greet them as you wait for the others to enter the class.

“So, I want to discuss something with you guys,” you’ve said.

“As we all know, last exam, you guys really disappointed me with the results,” you continued.

“Hmm,” they hummed.

“And we all know the next exam is in one month, so I want you to prepare as best as you can. And I have a surprise for you: if you score above 90, you can pick any reward you want. It could be anything, for example, a concert ticket of your favorite artist, a paddock pass that comes with meeting the drivers, etc. Which means you’re going with me, or a football game ticket to watch your favorite team.”

Your students buzz with excitement.

“Really, miss?”

The room erupts with chatter, feeling their energy and determination.

A month later, you’ve already graded the exams. You stand in front of the class with a stack of papers.

“I’m really proud of all of you,” you begin. “You’ve worked really hard, and you guys did not disappoint this time, so let’s see the results.”

“First, Livvy, you’ve got a 92. What would you like as your reward?”

Livvy beams. “I want to go to a Raye concert.”

“Done,” you replied, making a note. “Jason, you’ve got a 95. What about you?”

Jason grins. “I want the paddock pass.”

“Excellent choice,” you wink at him. You always knew he was a die-hard F1 fan.

You continued down the list. “Olivia, 89, so close but still great job.”

Olivia nods, smiling. “Thank you, miss.”

“Finally, Nick, 91. What’s your pick?”

Nick thinks for a moment. “I think I’d pick the football match.”

“Alright,” you agree. ���We’ll make it happen.”

After everyone has chosen their rewards, you gather them together.

“I want you all to know how proud I am of each one of you. You’ve worked incredibly hard, and you deserve these rewards. Remember, this is just the beginning. Keep striving for excellence, and you’ll achieve great things.”

After saying goodbye to your students, you head home, still feeling excited. When you walk in, you see Lewis, and you can't wait to tell him about your day.

You give him a big hug and say, "Lewis, today was amazing!"

Lewis smiles and asks, "What happened?"

You tell him all about it, from the rewards you gave to the happy faces of your students. Lewis listens carefully, proud of you the whole time.

"Wow, that's awesome!" Lewis says, giving you a kiss on the forehead. "I'm really proud of you."

You feel warm inside, knowing he's there for you. You spend the evening talking and enjoying each other's company. As you go to bed, you feel grateful for your life together with Lewis and the twins.

theycallmelivvy has posted

Liked by yn,lewishamilton and 3,268 others.

theycallmelivvy: MS y/n appreciation post🙏🏼

See 350 comments

jasonthecoolest: hail my glorious queen

whatthesigma: oh how i love her

yn: i love you guys🥹💕

f1.wags has posted

liked by f1.paddock,ynupdates and 350,679 others

f1.wags: apparently yn hamilton. Lewis Hamiltons wife has made some incredible promises to her students sources say she said if they got above 90 she’d reward them with whatever they like and some of her students chose the f1 race choice what an incredible teacher💕

view 78,572 comments

ibelieveinlestappen: oh my teacher could never

ilovelewishamilton: how i love her omgg

F1updates: god bless my queen

theylovejackey: THATS MY FREAKING TEACHER EVERYBODY

f1fantasy: that’s why there were some people we’ve never seen makes sense now!

[the-hopeless-haze]

I Do Bad Things With You

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: smut. nsfw mdni

Summary: You don't feel like you're a good agent. Aaron assures you that you are. And then he fucks you. or inn other words, I think I need someone to study my brain because I did cry in my boss' office for very similar reasons to this and I am very much attracted to her but we did not fuck in her office and she has no idea I want her I just have breakdowns at work because 1) it sucks and 2) I am mentally unwell. I just truly don't know if this fic was birthed from the worst compulsory heterosexuality of all time or if I'm truly just an insane bisexual (I think it's the latter) but when I tell you I have not thought about Hotchner in years I MEAN years. I haven't watched Criminal Minds in like five years until today to write this fic. But like. He is FINE. y'all know. you're here. come for my unhinged summary stay for the smut idk

--------

“I can’t do this anymore,” you mutter under your breath, hating how the tears fall anyway, how you can’t stop them. “I’m not doing a good enough job. I need to leave.”

“What are you talking about?” Aaron asks you. “Why do you feel that way?”

“It’s just… it’s just I feel like I can never get a grip. Like I can’t ever get everything done that needs to get done. Like I’m not good enough.”

“You’re good enough. You’re a good agent. You come in and you do your job,” he says gently. “I don’t need anything else from you.”

You were usually so put together, so stoic, even, so sure of yourself. He can’t quite believe you’re in his office like this, past the verge of tears, sitting across from him weeping.

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” you ask, lifting your head to look at him.

“For the effort you put in. How you’re a new agent and you still proved yourself to my team. You’re living up to your potential and then some. We appreciate you. I appreciate you.”

“You just have to say that.”

“No. I don’t have to say anything. I’m telling you what I see and what I believe. And I’m not letting you quit.”

“But, sir, I—“

“I won’t accept it,” he says firmly but quietly. “You’re too good of an agent to lose. You know this. You know your grades were stellar and your psychology background is enviable. You know you passed every test with flying colors. The adjustment to being a full-fledged agent in the first year is tough, to say the least. It’s grueling. Getting accustomed and used to death, danger and just the pressure of the job is something that not everyone can handle. But you can. I know you can. If I lost you, I’d lose an asset. You’re an excellent profiler. It’s intuitive for you.”

There it is, though, that behavior analyst part of your brain and you noticed how he said “I” and not “we” and how his eyes softened, how he wasn’t looking at you sternly and stoically but there was more of a tenderness in his dark eyes.

He likes you. He means what he says. You know he does.

But that isn’t enough. You don’t believe what he says. You don’t believe you’re worthy. This job takes up so much of your waking hours but when you’re outside of it you have next to nothing. You’re not close to family here in Virginia. You don’t have a significant other. You’re not home enough to have a dog. And you just feel like you’ve been letting yourself go since you only seem to have time to eat, sleep and work.

You’ve always been an anxious person. You’ve managed to quell the thoughts wracking your brain with years of practice and medications to a point where you can function, to a point where you made it through school and made it into the FBI. Impostor syndrome dies hard, though. You keep trying to swallow down your tears but it’s fucking impossible when you’re like this. You dry them on the sleeves of your blazer, biting your lip nervously.

“Don’t cry. It’s okay,” Aaron says, breaking through your thoughts.

“It’s not okay,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I shouldn’t be breaking down crying.”

“You’re human,” he says gently. “This job is overwhelming.”

“It doesn’t seem to get to you.”

“It does. It still does. I… I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”

“I just don’t think I can do this, Hotchner. With all due respect, I need to put my two weeks in,” you say, strengthening your weakened resolve.

“No,” he refuses, shaking his head. “What do I have to do to get you to see what I see?”

You sigh, leaning forward and bracing your head in your hands. “I don’t know.”

You feel him before you see him, refusing to lift your head up as the tears started streaming down your face. He kneels in front of you, taking your hands gently from your cheeks, but your eyes are still squeezing shut. “Look at me,” he orders.

“Hotchner, I—“

“It’s Hotch. You know that. Or… you can call me Aaron. Just call me Aaron. Look at me.”

Finally, you blink your eyes open, tears spilling over, and he squeezes both your hands gingerly.

“Good. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go home for the night. You’re going to take your mind off of the job. And you’re going to come back tomorrow morning and everyone in here is going to talk about how much you’re missed when you’re gone. Because we all value you. But you need to take the time for yourself. You’re burnt out. You’re not a bad agent. You’re just mean to yourself and you shouldn’t be.”

It’s not lost on you, the way he’s still touching you when you don’t think you’ve seen him so much as brush against anyone else on the team. Is he…?

You squeeze his hands back, forcing yourself to smile.

“There we go,” he smiles back. “See? Do you feel better?”

“A little. Thank you, Hotch.”

“Please. You can call me Aaron in private,” he reiterates. He would have, could have, should have let you go by now. But he hasn’t.

“In private?”

“I don’t let just anyone use my first name. There’d be questions if you started using it especially since you called me SSA Hotchner for months before I got you to just say Hotchner at least. You’re a rule stickler, hm? I think that’s part of your problem.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to think rules are made to be broken,” you counter. Sure. You were a stickler. You were. Deferential to authority - that deserved it. You spoke out, and you would speak out of turn if anything felt wrong or uncomfortable. Rules made things feel safer. Still. You’d call out the unjust. And you think Aaron is the same way.

“Some of them are,” he muses.

“You yelled at me,” you say suddenly. “My third week.”

He furrows his brow, trying to recall the incident you were talking about and then he nods. “You were reckless. You put yourself and Morgan in danger. You walked straight into an ambush. It was a mistake. A rookie mistake. A mistake you learned from. You never did it again.”

“But I—“

“It’s been almost a year since then,” he says, gently. “I don’t hold it against you. I’ve had to pull everyone who works here aside for something. And I’ve been pulled aside myself. No one’s perfect. I… I raised my voice because I was worried about you. Not because I was angry with you.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, nodding. “Okay.”

“I wish you could see what I see,” he says.

“Hm?”

“I see a strong, capable, intelligent young woman who’s an amazing profiler — you can glean someone’s familial background in record time. I see a woman who holds her ground and then some in interrogations.”

“I’m crying in my boss’ office right now,” you titter awkwardly.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still all of those things. I see a beautiful woman who’s passionate about her career, who wants to do the best she can…”

He trails off. You wonder if he realizes the weight of what he said.

Always walking the line of professionalism. Making any comments regarding your appearance was crossing it, even if it was as benign and modest as “beautiful”. It was still a step too far.

But you, you’re depressed and anxious, and you’ll take whatever you can get.

He’s still kneeling in front of you.

You know it would be stupid, especially when he’s a broken man himself, even if he denies it to everybody. His wife cheated on him. It was hard, with the job, to have a stable relationship with anyone outside of it. You know this. You’re living it.

He’s still touching you and your skin is on fire now.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but he makes no effort to move, no effort to stop staring through your eyes to your soul. Is he profiling you? Trying to see if your breath hitched when he let the compliment slip?

“Don’t be,” you say breathily.

“It was inappropriate,” he says, and he does get up then, wincing at the stiffness in his knees from crouching in front of you for so long. You miss the warmth of his hands already. “You’re dismissed, agent. Go home and take care of yourself.”

Your emotions flip like a switch, it’s just how it’s always been, and you use it to your advantage in a room full of profilers. It’s good to be unpredictable, a wild card. You don’t even mean to. You just are. You can’t help the words that come out of your mouth next. He stood up, so he’s towering over you as you sit in the seat across from his desk, but he’s looking down at you, waiting on your next sentence. And what you say is, “Agent? I thought we were on first-name basis, Aaron?”

It’s the first time you’ve said his first name, and it goes right through him. He wasn’t lying. Not many people do have the privilege to use it. None of his subordinates would be brave enough, maybe not even if he gave them explicit permission like he gave to you. It’s intimate, all these walls up in this bureaucracy that even something as simple as a woman using his first name could drive him up the wall like it would an upstanding Christian man in Regency England. Rules. Rules to be broken.

Aaron whispers your first name, and it’s barely audible, but you hear it in his low, soft baritone. Not the first time, but the only time he’s said it without your last name tacked on the end of it. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Aaron?”

You’re teasing, now, and he wonders if it’s just a reflex, trying to gain back some of the power you lost by coming in here crying, or if you genuinely want something from him besides reassurance and a couple of hours off from work. It was maddening at first, trying to figure you out. He still doesn’t know exactly who you are and he’s resigned himself to the fact that maybe he’d never be able to nail you down.

“Don’t,” Aaron says again, looking at you sternly as you stand up.

“What is it that you don’t want me to do, Aaron?” you ask, and you’re still not eye to eye but you’re closer now, and his eyes never left your face throughout the whole conversation anyway.

He says your name again like it’s a curse under his breath. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Stop it.”

“Use your words, Aaron.”

“Stop teasing me,” he murmurs, looking away from you for the first time, down at the floor. You never expected him to be so… shy.

“I’m teasing you?” you ask, feigning innocence. You didn’t have to be a profiler to see how he was getting tenser as you continue this conversation.

“Yes,” he says, looking back up at you, an edge to his voice you hadn’t heard before. “And I suggest you stop.”

“Or else?” you say before your brain can catch up. You’re playing with fire. You know you are.

But you like him. Tall, dark, handsome, nothing like the men you’ve been with before. Other men were intimidated when he walked into the room. And you being you… you always wanted to break him down into a crying, blubbering mess, and be the only one who got to see him like that. Break the stoic wall and get to see him. Human.

And if he was this reactive to you just saying his name?

Lord help both of you.

“Please,” he murmurs. “Go home for the day.”

“Is that to help me, or you?”

He shakes his head, smiling a little. “Perhaps both of us.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t jump at the chance to get my resignation if I make things so… hard… for you, Aaron,” you say, and you move a little closer, his breath hitching audibly in his throat.

Again. He says your name like it’s the worst curse in the book, hissing it like it physically hurts him, and you know, maybe you are.

“A little selfish, maybe. I’d miss you too much,” he admits. “And I meant what I said. I’d lose an asset. You’re a stellar agent.”

You don’t really know what to say, now, but he continues.

“Profile me,” he whispers. “In this moment. What am I thinking?”

“So you don’t have to say it out loud?”

“Mm.”

“You want me, Aaron,” you say shakily, losing your resolve almost as quickly as you gained it back. “I don’t think you’d have to be a profiler to figure that out.”

“Is it that obvious?” he asks.

“Right now… yes.”

“You need me. You need me to show you how valued you really are,” Aaron says, searching your eyes for confirmation that you want this, too. As always, though, you’re unreadable. “Say it. Let me show you my appreciation.”

God. What in the world? Your brain is fuzzy with lust, and never in a million years would you have thought this is how today would’ve gone. Mondays back in the office are always the worst, piles of paperwork from the cases prior to sift through and file and the anticipation of when you’d be on the road or up in the air next always gnawed at your stomach. You fully expected to give your notice and come home crying. You didn’t foresee the prospect of being utterly fucked by your boss who very much did not want you to resign.

You know why the rules are in place. Dating coworkers was messy anyway, never mind dating someone in this line of work. Still… you thought it made sense in a way. The only person who was really going to understand your crazy schedule was someone who was working the same hours.

So you nod, giving him full permission to do as he pleases.

His lips meet yours, surprisingly soft and gentle, akin to the way his hands squeezed yours before. “I can’t believe I held myself back from doing this for this long,” he mumbles against your mouth, then he pulls you in an embrace, leaving hot open-mouthed kisses on the side of your neck where he can reach. “I need you here. I need you to promise me you’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay, Aaron.”

“I’ve wanted your body since the second you walked into this building. I need you. You ground me. Make me feel better, human. Like maybe I could exist outside of the field and outside of this office.”

“Did you know I was struggling?”

“You hide it well. I knew you were frustrated, but the last case was tough and we all are a little on edge. I’m sorry. I should’ve been there for you to lean on, honey,” Aaron says, moving his head back to face you, eyes meeting yours earnestly. “I want you to always come to me if you need anything. Anything.”

You don’t say anything, just hum contently, pressing your mouth back to his for a kiss that starts off chaste and quickly becomes heated, his hands cupping the curve of your ass.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. “Promise me you’ll always come to me.”

“I promise,” you agree.

“Good girl,” he affirms. “You’re such a good girl. Never have to worry about you doing your job. You always get your reports to me on time, you always make brilliant deductions when we’re going over cases, you always make sure the rest of the team doesn’t need anything… such a good girl.”

You kiss him fiercely, the voice in your head screaming he was your boss and both of your careers are on the line if this goes south long silenced. His large hands on your ass pull you closer to him, and you feel his hardening cock against you as he does. “Aaron,” you choke out breathily.

“Feel me? That’s what you do to me, honey.”

You snake a hand between your bodies and palm him through his dress pants, and you can tell he wasn’t expecting that to be your next move from the way his cheeks flush and he groans heavily. “This is about you,” he manages to say, taking your hand away from his clothed cock. “All about you. Go sit on my desk, honey.”

You do as he says, squeezing your thighs together as he follows you and takes his suit jacket off, revealing his tasteful button-down underneath. “Good girl,” he whispers, spreading your legs with hands, kneading the flesh of your thighs as he does so, letting the fabric of your skirt ride up.

And then he digs his nails under the thin sheer of your tights and rips them. “Aaron!” you hiss in surprise.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he responds almost dismissively, easing the torn fabric down the length of your legs, kissing the swell of your calves as he takes your heels off and places them on the floor underneath the desk.

“I’m more worried about how I’m going to walk out of here,” you say, smiling.

“I sent them all out on different tasks and told them to get lunch first. They’ll be gone for a while.”

“Did you plan this?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Not exactly,” he smirks. “But now you can be as loud as you need to be.”

“Aaron,” you say, almost scolding, but whatever you were going to say after that is lost in the recesses of your mind as you feel his mouth on yours again, hot and ready, tongue gliding against yours with ease. He shrugs your blazer off, too, leaving you in just a black tank top and your skirt that was hiked up to your waist.

“I believe regulations are to wear long sleeve button-downs underneath blazers,” he says lowly. You know it’s a lie. If Garcia can dress the way she does there are certainly not strict restrictions on what you can wear, even if you’re a field agent. But you’ll play along.

“I believe regulations are not to have your subordinate spread out on your desk in front of you, sir,” you retort.

Aaron chuckles deeply at that. This is how you usually were, sarcastic and snippy, even with him at times. Funny. “Rules and regulations,” he muses. “I think I’m alright with those two being broken.”

And with that his fingers of his right hand start ghosting your cunt, pressing the thin cotton of your panties, groaning lowly at how wet you are. “You’re soaked, honey,” he says. “Can I feel you? Please.”

“Yes, Aaron, please touch me,” you nod.

He pushes aside your panties, slipping his index finger in slowly, catching your lips with his in the process.

“Want to make you feel so good, so much better,” he murmurs, starting slow and building up pressure before he inserts another finger, stretching you out, making you impossibly wetter, reaching depths of you that you couldn’t reach yourself with your much shorter and thinner fingers. “Lift your hips,” he instructs, and in one swift motion, he slips your panties off, pocketing them in his dress pants. “Good girl.”

“Not fair, Aaron,” you say.

“What’s not fair, honey?”

“You’re still fully dressed,” you point out, reaching for his tie to loosen it. You were absolutely soaked, you could feel it, and you wonder if his desk will stain from your slick. You untuck his shirt from his pants and run your hands over his stomach, scars under the pads of your fingers, God, you want to lick every inch of him.

“Mm. I can help you remedy that,” he agrees, meeting your hands when you were halfway through the buttons on his pristine white shirt, pulling it over his head along with his undershirt. You reach for his belt buckle and he stops you. “Not yet. Let me do something first.”

And before you know it his tongue is on you, swirling incessant circles around your swollen clit, and you can tell he’s not taking his time now. He wants to bring you over the edge and fast, and you wonder how long it will be before the rest of the team do return from their extended lunch breaks. You’ve been eaten out before, sure, but to use a cliched metaphor for the umpteenth time in human history, you finally figured out what women meant when they said their man ate them like it was their last meal on death row. You clamp your legs against his head, and he moans, sending vibrations through your cunt, damn near sending you over the edge as you pant and whimper.

“Am I not making you feel good?” Aaron looks up in worry.

“What? Why would you say that?”

“You’re not screaming. I suppose I should try harder,” he says, furrowing his brow and then he adds his fingers back, fucking deep into you. His tongue focuses on your clit and your thighs are shaking and you gasp, no longer able to hold yourself up seated, leaning back and bracing yourself on your elbows.

“Aaron, I’m so close,” you moan, trying to fight the urge to push him away as the pressure builds. You squeeze your thighs tighter and the sudden force of it drags Aaron’s tongue flat against your clit, and that’s what sends you over the edge, whining his name over and over again.

He doesn’t stop.

“Aaron,” you choke out, trying to back away from him due to the overstimulation. “Aaron. Please.”

“You can be louder than that,” he says, not bothering to lift his head, voice muffled by your wet cunt. “I’m not stopping until you reach a decibel level I’m satisfied with. And I will know if you’re faking.”

You’ve never had anyone go down on you for multiple rounds. You were lucky if you came once with previous partners. Part of the reason you never wanted to make a move with Aaron was that you figured he would ruin you for other men.

And God. Were you right.

You only hope you’re ruining him for other women.

You know you’re next orgasm will be embarrassingly close as he never gave you a chance to come down from the first one. You didn’t expect it to come on like it did though, your right hand carded in his jet black hair, just again, him flattening his tongue against your clit as his fingers continued to scissor you open and you can’t help it, gasping for air, shouting, yelling, keening his name. “Aaron,” you plead. “I can’t give you another one. Please.”

“Shh. Good girl. You can and you will. For me,” he commands authoritatively.

And you can. And you do.

The next time, mercifully, Aaron stands up, and leaves you alone to breathe. He kisses you and you taste yourself on his tongue. He’s achingly hard now, a quite visible tent noticeable in his dress pants, cheeks red from exertion, everything from his nose to his chin wet with your slick.

What a vision.

How were you ever going to get this out of your head?

“Can I be inside you? Please?” he asks.

“Yes,” you affirm.

Aaron lets you unbuckle his pants and lets them pool to the floor, helping you out of your tank top and bra, sucking and biting on your nipples and the flesh of your breasts for a few moments before he steps out of his shoes and boxers, completely bare in front of you.

“God, Aaron,” you breathe. “You’ve really been holding out on me.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and his cheeks flush redder. “I could say the same for you, sweetheart.”

“How long?”

“I told you,” he says lowly, lining his cock with your entrance. “Since the second you walked in this building.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you ask, but it’s a loaded question if not a stupid one. There’s a myriad of reasons why you don’t tell someone who works under you that you want to fuck them stupid. That you like them. That you love them?

You frown slightly. You don’t think you could handle it if this was the only time you got to be with him like this.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, lifting your chin with his thumb. “You promised you would tell me.”

“Is this… is this a one-time thing, Aaron?” You ask tentatively.

“I don’t want it to be,” he answers quickly. “It’d be a daily occurrence if I had my way.”

With that, he grabs your hips, and looks at you for consent, then slams all the way in when you nod in affirmation. Neither of you can help the moans and groans escaping your mouths at that, you from feeling completely full and him being fully sheathed in you.

“I… I love you,” he says, pressing his sweat-sheened forehead to yours. “You don’t have to say it back. I know how dangerous and inappropriate and difficult this situation is never mind adding emotions to it. And I… I’m not good at them in the first place. I just… I just need you to know that. I want to be with you. All the time.”

“Again, Aaron, why did you never… fuck,” you trail off as he starts moving his hips, setting a slow and languid pace.

“I don’t know. I was afraid,” he chuckles.

“Of me?”

“You’re intimidating. You’re beautiful, smart, and capable. To tell you I wanted you…”

“You’re calling me intimidating?” you ask. “You? Of all people?”

“I’ve seen you interrogate. Baby-faced assassin, hm? You’ve shaken some grown men in their boots.”

“Including you?”

“Including me,” he chuckles, then softens. “Seeing you cry like that today… I… it broke my heart, honey. I never thought I’d see you break. I’d do anything to make you never feel like that again. You need to stay.”

“I already promised you, Aaron,” you say, biting your lip as he somehow angles his cock deeper in you. “I love you.”

Kissing you fiercely, he squeezes your hips, and you can’t wait to see if there’ll be bruises there tomorrow in the shape of his fingertips. “God, you’re fucking squeezing my cock, honey,” he grunts, and you feel yourself clench more at his words. You’ve never heard him swear. Ever. “I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that.”

“I’m surprised you lasted this long, old man,” you tease.

“You’d be surprised how much stamina I do have,” he threatens, rolling his eyes at you. “You’ll see tonight when I have more time with you.”

“How presumptuous.”

He scoffs, doesn’t say anything, but starts running over your clit with his thumb, kissing you deeply, fucking you faster and harder, setting a much more brutal pace.

“You just need me that bad, Aaron?” you ask, hellbent on seeing him break. “You need to fuck me all the time now that you’ve had me?”

“Yes,” he pants. “Need you all the time. Every day. Need to fuck this pretty cunt. Make you know you’re appreciated. Valued. Loved. Never want to hear you talk about yourself like that ever again. Not…I’ll worship you. Kiss the ground you walk on. Fuck you until you can’t stand. Whatever it takes.”

“What about you, Aaron? How do you feel right now?”

“So fucking good,” he groans. “So fucking good. Such a good girl. You keep sucking my cock back in every thrust, you feel that, honey? So wet, so warm, fuck, I’d stay inside you forever.”

“Yeah, Aaron? Hmm? I—“ your teasing backfired on you, and before you can think of anything else to say, you come on his cock, your nails dragging down his back stalling his motions to stutters and he’s asking you, begging you, “Please let me cum inside you,” he begs. “Please, honey.”

You nod breathlessly, unable to speak, and you don’t think he’d be able to make it out of you in time completely if you’d said no because you feel his seed fill you as you’re still riding out the aftershocks of your own orgasm and he’s moaning your name in choked sobs and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever fucking seen or heard.

“I love you,” he whispers, dark eyes looking up at you from where his face now rested in the swell of your breasts. “I love you. And we’re going to make this work come hell or high water.”

“I love you,” you say back once you catch your breath. “Are you still sending me home?”

He laughs. “You look and smell like sex.”

“Do you think you look or smell any different? You did this to me,” you say, messing up his sweat-streaked hair more with your fingers. “I think your boss should send you home, too.”

“Hm. Perhaps I could convince him,” he says, giving you a wide smile.

He helps you get dressed, kissing you wherever he can reach in between and it takes much longer than it would have had you dressed yourself. You’re not complaining. But there’s no fixing your hair or your tattered tights. No fixing Aaron’s disheveled hair, either, or the sweat stains around his armpits from when you teased him for so long.

“Follow me home, honey,” he instructs. “Round two.”

Maybe you should have mental breakdowns at work more often.

[wcnderlnds]

──★ eye of the tiger / peter maximoff

short drabble in which peter takes you to karaoke. some slight swearing! requested by anon <3

“Look, all I’m sayin’ is a lil karaoke might cheer you up and help you forget all about that loser,” Peter chewed on his gum, the nonchalant expression on his face showing that he really did not know a single thing about heart break. He wasn’t trying to be insensitive— this just wasn’t his area of expertise. He had accepted his role of dorky best friend with excellent taste in music years ago. It was fine. It was totally fine.

“I doubt it but… we can go,” you wiped at your eyes with the tissues Peter had zoomed out mere seconds ago to grab for you.

That was all Peter needed to hear. Swiftly, he cradled the back of your head then in a thwip, you were standing outside the karaoke bar. It wasn’t your usual hang out. Arcades and diners were where you and Peter usually spent your time but he figured this time he had to pull out the big guns. If he had to flex his rarely used vocal cords to put a smile on his best pals face then so be it. Peter would do anything to make you feel better. He wouldn’t call himself an empath - in fact, he’d probably make fun of anyone who did - but when it came to you he was always in tune with how you felt. He led the way inside, holding the door open like the perfect gentleman. Nobody needed to know he accidentally closed it in the young man’s face that was walking in behind the two of you.

“Okay, you ready to see me blow everyone out of the water? Not to brag or anything but I’m pretty sure after this someone will be offering me a record deal. I’ll remember you when I’m touring with AC/DC.” Peter shot a wink your way, heading to the microphone.

You hadn’t even realised the drink that was on the table in front of you — Peter must have used that mutation of his to grab you one without realising. You cradled the glass in your hands as the familiar tone of ‘Eye of The Tiger’ sounded through the speakers. Peter instantly began to belt out the lyrics not even needing to look at the words; he knew them by heart, of course. In true Peter fashion, he made a show of it by adding in his own jumps and dramatic flairs. At one point you were sure he was about to split those damn leather pants of his but thankfully he ended the song without exposing his ass to everyone. He bowed to the crowd (consisting of you and maybe three other people) with obnoxious comments like ‘I’ll be here all night’ and ‘I charge ten dollars for an autograph’.

As much as you hated to admit it, he had brought a smile to your face. Your cheeks were even aching with how big you were smiling. It was almost like you hadn’t just gone through a break up. Peter’s arm was thrown over your shoulder, the cool material of his jacket against the skin of your neck making you shiver. His cheesy grin letting you know he was damn proud of himself. “So, what’d you think?”

“I think I’m lucky to have a best friend like you.”

“Don’t go getting all soft on me now. Might start thinking you’re fond of me.”

“I am,” you spoke softly, arms sliding into his open jacket to wrap around him. He was warm, soft. It was exactly what you needed. Peter hesitated for a moment, hands hovering in the air while he wondered what to do with them before he mumbled a ‘screw it’ and wrapped them around you, holding you tight against his chest.

Maybe one day he’d tell you this meant more to him than you knew but for now he’d take what he could.

[mrsarcherofinfamy]

●Kenny Omega x Reader●

Summary: You are his wife and it is everyone's first time seeing you because you don't like to be on camera.

________________________________________

Standing outside of Kenny's room, I hear him talking about how he got hit with a bike during a match before. I knock on the door waiting for a response.

"Honey, do you need anything?"

I slightly open the door popping my head in as he turns around to look at me with a big smile on his face.

"No thank you baby. I am good."

He turns around back to his computer as I shut the door heading back to the kitchen.

_________________________________________

*Kenny's POV*

My chat, all of a sudden, is blowing up asking me about who I was talking to, who I called baby, why I've been hiding someone and more.

"Everyone in the chat. I can see you all asking about who I was talking to. I think it is time I introduce you all to her. Give me one minute."

I get up, take my headset off and walk out of my room.

_________________________________________

*Y/N's POV*

"Honey!"

I turn around seeing Kenny walking into the kitchen as I just finished washing dishes.

"What's up babe?"

"I want you to come be on my livestream for a couple minutes. Everyone is asking about you."

"Oh...ummm sure."

"I promise it will be okay. They just want to meet you and it will be just a few minutes."

I shake my head yes, he puts out his hand and I grab it following him to his room. We walk into the room and he sits back down on the chair putting his headphones on.

"Everyone, meet my wife, Y/N."

I stand behind him, wrap my arms around his neck and chest area and lay my head against his, smiling.

"Not only is she my wife but, she is one of the brilliant minds that writes for AEW. Lots of storylines that everyone loves are written by my beautiful, brilliant wife."

"Thank you honey."

I turn my head and kiss his cheek. He smiles and looks at the comments in the chat.

"Someone asked how long we have been together. We have been together for almost five years now. We just liked to keep things private and not have negative stuff said about our relationship."

I shake my head agreeing and rub his chest also looking at the comments. I see a lot of people calling me beautiful and thanking me for all the storylines I've written. Kenny looks over at me smiling.

"Someone asked what your favorite storyline you have written and produced is."

"Oh that's a good question.... ummm... I would have to go with a recent one that everyone loved a lot.... Swerve and Hangman. I am really proud of that one because they took my ideas and made them way better than how I had them written out."

Kenny looks at me smiling and I look at him feeling my face get red. He looks back at the camera smiling.

"She normally hates talking infront of people. Especially on camera. I think she is doing an excellent job."

"Thank you honey. I'm gonna go start making dinner. You have fun finishing up your stream."

I lean down as he looks up and we kiss lightly. I smile, wave bye to the camera than head out of the room to the kitchen. I hear him go back to talking to them and I smile to myself.

"I can't believe I just did that."

[libraford]

Have you shared the story of you joining the track team with us? I feel like you have but I can't remember any details.

I SHALL TELL YOU A TALE OF PURE FOLLY!

The year us 1999, I am in seventh grade. Like most seventh-graders, I hate everything that I am forced to do but I especially hate Pep Rallies. They are hell for my tiny little social outcast ADHD brain: loud noises, forced enjoyment of an activity, sports, pointless interaction with people I can't stand, and the potential for relentless bullying afterwards.

So we had a pep rally.

And I, for the first time in my rules-following life, decided to skip.

My class filed into the gym, I ducked into the bathroom, and waited for the sound of the doors closing.

Problem was that I didn't think I'd get this far and I've never been in the habit of delinquency, so I had no idea what to do next. I started wandering the halls just a little bit, testing out the freedom of having broken the rules, going down hallways that weren't part of my routine...

...when I heard dogs barking.

You see...

...the pep rallies weren't exactly about basketball. The pep rallies were an excuse to make lots of noise so no one heard the police dogs when they came looking for drugs in people's lockers.

And I am not where I'm supposed to be. I am where NO ONE is supposed to be. And I panic, because if I show up to the pep rally late they are going to notice.

I did not think this through.

So I start looking for somewhere to be while the police are searching for worse criminals than myself and I see a bunch of students in the cafeteria. One of them is a friend of mine, so I wouldn't be completely out of place in this location, so I came in and sat down next to her. A roster is being passed around and I sign it so that I can say that I was accounted for during the pep rally in some way.

The teacher who is heading whatever this is stands up in front of this group and says:

"Thank you for coming to the track and field tryouts. You've all made it in."

Uh...

...woops.

I think I'll just sit through this one meet and then quit. People do it all the time, I don't think anyone would notice.

Except that this is a small town and everyone knows everyone- so the teacher/coach helpfully informed my father that I'd joined the track team voluntarily and in no way was it a mistake of any kind.

My whole family is sports nuts. My dad was in charge of the sports page at the news paper, my mom will talk excitedly about college football, and my brother has excelled in every sport he's ever been in.

I'm a textbook case of Not That. Art student, lead violist, and the most exercise I get is dodging projectile rocks on my way home from school.

But my dad is SO proud of me when he hears about it. Lee is doing a Sport? A Sport that's physical? A Sport with a team? A SPORT!

Like... he bought me new shoes and stuff to clean the shoes with and all kinds of first aid stuff for my muscle pains and oh my god for the first time in his life I was in a SPORT!

(Just to emphasize- he has always been PROUD of me. He thought I was a genius because I showed him how to make chocolate dipped strawberries at home without a fondue pot like... he's pretty sure I'm going to save the world somehow. But this was the first time that I had ever shown even the smallest bit of interest in doing a Sport, which is HIS special interest and now we can BOND!)

So I try.

You know... I hate running.

I actually have a condition caused by a childhood illness that impacts cartilage development as well as asthma from a bronchial infection when I was in 5th grade.

But my dad came to all of the track meets that he could and I was so deep into the lie that quitting now would break him.

So I try my hand at non-running events: shot put and discus. I'd still have to run during practice, but I was allowed to go off and do Not Running for a little bit.

I can't remember the actual numbers or anything, but I remember that when I first did shot put with proper form, the coach kind of turned her head sideways and said 'damn.'

So turned out that being at the roly-poly stage of my larval development meant that I was still learning how my personal body chemistry affects the build of muscle. The answer is 'very quickly.'

It starts getting hard to find shirts that will fit my biceps and now I'm in trouble for wearing non-standard issue tank tops to school from practicing shot and discus.

If this were a movie, it would mean that suddenly being a jock meant that I had been accepted by my peers and something something Mean Girls something something. But no, because having incredible muscle as a thirteen year old did not do anything to disspell the rumors that I was a lesbian and unfortunately I was still bullied relentlessly. Nor did I ever throw a punch because I don't like hurting people and no one ever taught me how to fight. But it did mean that I had a handful of girls ready to use teeth and nails to defend the shot put champion.

Which is important because I was the ONLY shot put and discus thrower in the school.

And as I found out- the district.

I went almost an entire season without competing against a single person, winning the event by default.

Until the semi-finals.

And I did have to compete against an assortment of other thirteen year olds that were just now learning that they had upper body strength. But because they ALSO were the only ones competing in those events they had never competed against another person either.

So we all sucked.

I got gold in shot put. Bronze in discus. But to their credit there were only three competitors.

Huge fucking deal for my dad.

Not a huge deal for the rest of the track team, who all did really poorly in most events BUT throwing events, which meant that this was our last game of the season.

And so ended my short, accidental career as the middle school shot put champion.

"Did you try out again in 8th grade?"

Fuck no. I hate running.

[noirandchocolate]

After a longer silence, the girl asked: 'Would you go back? If you could?' 'You mean, without the wave?' 'Yes. Without the wave.' 'Then I'd have gone home, and everyone would have been alive, and I would be a man.' 'Would you rather be that man? Would you change places with him?' asked the ghost girl. 'And not be me? Not know about the globe? Not have met you?' 'Yes!' Mau opened his mouth to reply and found it choked with words. He had to wait until he could see a path through them. 'How can I answer you? There is no language. There was a boy called Mau. i see him in my memory, so proud of himself because he was going to be a man. He cried for his family and turned the tears into rage. And if he could, he would say "Did not happen!" and the wave would roll backward and never have been. But there is another boy, and he is called Mau, too, and his head is on fire with new things. What does he say? He was born in the wave, and he knows that the world is round, and he met a ghost girl who is sorry she shot at him. He called himself the little blue hermit crab, scuttling across the sand in search of a new shell, but now he looks at the sky and knows that no shell will ever be big enough, ever. Will you ask him not to be? Any answer will be the wrong one. All I can be is who I am. But sometimes I hear the boy inside crying for his family.' 'Does he cry now?' asked Daphne, looking down at the ground. 'Every day. But very softly. You won't hear him.'

--Terry Pratchett, "Nation"

(Hey, if you're a Discworld fan and haven't read this book may I recommend it? Also: hey, if you've heard of this Terry Pratchett guy and how great he is, but think Discworld wouldn't be your thing for one reason or another? May I recommend this excellent book as a gateway to Pratchett's writing? It's about upheaval, and grief, and healing. It is beautifully written, and I swear it'll rip out your heart and then put it back in but different. Or, if your heart has already been stricken, it might offer some solace or hope.)

[satansapostle6]

Everything But Time | Fred Weasley

Fred Weasley never thought he’d fall for a Slytherin girl. Nathalie Adams never thought she’d fall for the class clown.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter One: Wrapped Around Her Finger

She was everything. The way she walked, and the way she talked, and the way her hair fell effortlessly over her shoulders was something of a marvel. Only, Fred Weasley didn’t think so, or so he said.

Fred Weasley was a proud Gryffindor; he never in a million years would have betrayed the honor of his House by consorting with a rival Slytherin. It was just out of the question. No matter what all the other boys in his year said, and no matter how short her skirts got, he remained vigilant and kept his unspoken promise to himself never to give her the time of day, even if he had no reason to suspect Nathalie Adams even wanted it.

“Look at her,” Fred’s younger sister, Ginny Weasley, said almost spitefully at dinner one night early on in his sixth year. “You can’t even tell her apart from one of the Beauxbatons girls. With her shiny hair, and perfect nails, and rosy cheeks…”

Everyone sitting with them at the Gryffindor table gave her a strange look as she blushed aggressively and redirected her focus to her plate in silence.

“She is quite the vision,” George Weasley, Fred’s twin, remarked dreamily. “Isn’t she, Ronniekins?”

Ron Weasley, who was a year older than Ginny, also grew a bright shade of pink, scowling at his brother.

“Why are you asking me?” he muttered defensively.

“Because you’re the one who drooled into your soup staring at her,” Fred replied, completely matter-of-fact.

“I did not!”

“Did too,” Harry Potter checked him.

“What about you, Harry?” Fred cocked his head at Ron’s best friend. “What are your thoughts on the topic of Nathalie Adams?” he said her name with a mocking lilt to it.

“I… hardly know her,” Harry responded reasonably.

Ginny just rolled her eyes at his innocence.

“Whether you know her isn’t the question, it’s whether you’d like to,” George explained with a mischievous grin.

“You boys are gross,” Ginny said disapprovingly.

“So gross,” Hermione Granger, Ron and Harry’s other respective best friend, agreed.

“Well…”

Harry thought for a minute.

“She’s two grades above us,” he concluded.

“Cho’s one grade above us,” Ron teased him.

Once again, Ginny rolled her eyes at the mention of Cho Chang, the girl Harry was too afraid to openly ask out.

“It’s alright, you know, Harry,” Fred told him wisely, “Liking older women. They’re usually more experienced, and that’s never a bad thing. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Hermione shook her head, mortified as Ginny looked at the two of them sharply. “You know, people are trying to eat here?”

“Trust me, so am I,” Fred quipped, earning a clap on the back from George and laughs from Harry and Ron, as well as Lee Jordan.

“So, Harry,” Ron wondered. “What are your thoughts on the blonde Slytherin?”

“Erm…”

He tried to collect his thoughts as he glanced over at the Slytherin table, searching for Nathalie Adams. He eventually found her, sitting with her friends not too far from Pansy Parkinson and the other popular Slytherin girls in their year at Hogwarts. He definitely saw her appeal; she had long whitish hair, and porcelain skin that might as well have been made of clouds, and not to mention, she was tall and graceful. She truly did look just like one of the French girls from Beauxbatons.

“She’s… nice,” Harry tried to compliment her chivalrously, knowing that Ginny Weasley was listening expectantly.

“Nice, indeed,” George agreed, much to his twin’s disappointment. “She could slap me across the face, and I’d thank her.”

“I think that’s just a ‘you’ problem, Georgie,” Lee stated, earning hearty laughs from the group.

*****

Nathalie Addams had everything a sixteen year-old girl could want; she came from a reputable family and maintained excellent grades. She was beautiful, and it certainly did not go unnoticed. To the Slytherin boys, she was the epitome of beauty, and class. Draco Malfoy, for one, had made plenty of jokes to his fellow Slytherin boys about telling his father that he wanted her for his birthday.

As a sixth-year, Nathalie Adams had become easily one of the most talked-about girls at Hogwarts, even amongst the other Houses. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, even Gryffindor. It didn’t matter; they all believed her to be the standard.

Equally popular among Hogwarts students was a seventh-year Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, Hogwarts’ resident pretty boy. Cedric was very much a Hufflepuff; although he had his talents, he was most easily recognized for his good looks and his excellent performance as Seeker on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

He was quite popular amongst the boys and girls alike, and although he could have chosen just about any of the girls at Hogwarts, which wasn’t really an understatement, he didn’t find himself particularly in the mood to play the field in his last year at Hogwarts. Cedric Diggory was much more the kind of person to seek out one girl in particular, and in the first few weeks of his seventh year, he was beginning to feel that Nathalie Adams could very well be that girl.

Of course, he had never spoken to her before. He had never actually met Nathalie Adams, and only knew her from watching long successions of people in the halls. He hadn’t even known her name until he had asked a friend of his the year before. From then on, Cedric was determined to speak to her, and get to know her. Cedric Diggory was a very driven young man, the kind of person who knew where he saw himself in five, ten, fifteen years.

Fifteen or so years in the future, Cedric saw himself comfortable and successful with a stable career, and having at least one child to love and nurture. And in this dream of his, he could see the mother of that child being Nathalie Adams.

“Are you going to talk to her, mate?” William Albert snapped him out of his trance as they completed their Transfiguration worksheets.

“Yeah, soon,” Cedric said in a hushed voice, mortified as he looked around them to make sure no one had heard.

In the past half hour, he had only written his name and the answers to two questions on his piece of parchment; he was too distracted by Nathalie and her long blonde hair on the other side of the aisle.

“Well, you’d better get on with it, then” his friend advised him. “Before Weasley beats you to it.”

Cedric looked across the room in a panic. Sure enough, there was his friend Fred Weasley, talking to Nathalie as he sat behind her. He muttered a curse under his breath, unable to hear or make out what they were saying.

“Can you stop?” Nathalie stared back at the long-haired Weasley twins. “You’re getting my parchment wet.”

Due to the disruption that the three of them had been causing, Professor McGonall had sat Lee Jordan in front of Nathalie, separating him from the twins. Naturally, this did not stop the twins from firing the Water-Making spell at him every time the professor’s back was turned. And naturally, their aim was a bit hit or miss.

“My apologies,” Fred Weasley said smoothly, offering a cocky smile as his eyes started to wander. “Perhaps I could make it up to you?”

“You could make it up to me by shutting the fuck up,” she stared angrily.

“That’s not very nice,” Fred pouted, turning to his brother. “Was it, George?”

“Indeed, it wasn’t,” George Weasley instigated.

“And why would I be worried about being nice to you?” she raised an eyebrow.

“I could make it worth your while,” Fred said softly, his flirting obscenely obvious.

“In your dreams, Weasley.”

“Oh, if only you knew,” he whispered with a playful smile.

Nathalie just rolled her eyes, turning back around in her seat as the twins just grinned at one another. Nathalie’s unmatched looks put her at the very top of the social hierarchy, and she knew how to take advantage of it. Everyone wanted her, whether it was as a friend, or more. Speaking to her was a privilege in high demand, and she knew not to oversaturate the market.

Even Cedric Diggory, who was one of the few boys at school who was actually in her league, was reduced to a hopeful nobody when it came to her.

“Ced. You need to ask Nathalie out before someone beats you to it,” William urged his best friend as they walked through the halls, approaching the courtyard where Nathalie and her friends were.

“I’m sure three people have already asked her out since class ended,” Cedric remarked.

“Before she says yes to someone,” William corrected himself.

“Well, what do you suggest I say to her, then?” Cedric questioned.

“I don’t know,” William admitted. “Just walk up to her, and ask her out.”

“Oh, is that all?”

Cedric’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re a Triwizard Champion,” William rationalized, “There’s no way she’ll say no.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Cedric sighted.

“To a Slytherin girl?” William pointed out. “Yes, it does.”

“I don’t know, Will. She seems hard to talk to.”

“Isn’t that a challenge you’re willing to take on?” William asked.

Cedric sighed, just standing at the edge of the courtyard as the other two girls sitting by Nathalie got up to leave, leaving her alone on the bench. She seemed perfectly content, pulling a book out of her bag. One of the first things Cedric had ever noticed about her was that she actually liked to read.

“Look; she’s alone,” William pointed out. “Now’s your chance.”

“I don’t know,” Cedric murmured, “Are you sure I won’t make her uncomfortable?”

“Go,” William urged him, emphasizing his point by giving him a little shove.

Cedric looked back at him, embarrassed as he slowly walked toward the center the courtyard. Nathalie certainly looked beautiful as she read her book in peace, closed off to the world. She was beautiful, but also quite intimidating. Cedric very slowly and timidly approached her, lightly clearing his throat before announcing himself.

“Hi,” he said, as she slowly looked up.

She seemed indifferent in her reaction, marking her page in the book with her finger as she spoke.

“Hey,” she said, not sure as to what he wanted.

“I’m Cedric,” he introduced himself, politely offering his hand.

Nathalie glanced down at his hand with a smirk, looking back up at him knowingly. She accepted his hand, and he gave hers a gentle shake.

“Hi, Cedric,” she remarked.

“You’re Nathalie, right?” he asked her.

She nodded, a stoic expression on her face as she insisted upon maintaining an advantageous status over him. “That’s right.”

“How are you, Nathalie?” Cedric Diggory asked chivalrously.

“Well,” she replied.

Cedric felt himself getting hot. Making small talk was becoming increasingly difficult.

“We have Transfiguration together, right?” Nathalie recalled.

He was relieved to hear that she was at least aware of his existence.

“And Potions, and History of Magic,” Cedric nodded with a charming smile.

Nathalie’s mouth curled into a smirk that she, for the most part, hid. His attempt at making conversation with her was adorable. Nathalie had to admit, Cedric Diggory was probably the best-looking boy at Hogwarts by far, with his auburn curls, and rosy cheeks. Not to mention, he towered over her, which not many boys could do as she was rather tall for a girl.

“Yeah…” she remembered, beginning to see an angle. “You’ve got pretty good marks in History of Magic, right?” she asked him, slyly running her fingers through her blonde hair.

Cedric had to clear his throat as he forced himself not to be distracted by her perfect waves, which framed her pale, heart-shaped face in the most beautiful way.

“Erm, yeah, yeah, I got an O last term,” he confirmed, reminding himself to appear confident.

Nathalie smiled, her demeanor gradually softening as she crossed her feet in front of her, tilting her head playfully as she spoke to him.

“You know, I can never understand a thing that Professor Binns says. He’s so dull, and lifeless. He’s practically asleep half the time he talks,” she commented.

“Yeah, he’s so boring,” Cedric agreed immediately, chuckling as he realized he might actually stand a chance here.

“Say, Cedric,” Nathalie looked up at him with the most enticing feigned and exaggerated doe eyes, “Would you like to get together and study some time?”

Cedric nearly gasped, shocked that it was this easy.

“Yeah! Yeah, I would,” he nodded. “I’d like that.”

Nathalie nodded appreciatively. “Yeah, it’s just… We have that essay coming up, and I hardly know what to write.”

“Well, we could definitely figure something out,” he promised her, his kind brown eyes locked onto her hazel ones.

Her eyes had this strange magnetic quality to him, as if they were two chasms of greens and browns, sucking him in and consuming him. Nathalie’s beauty was unlike anything he’d ever seen. The most comparable thing to it that he’d seen in nature was probably the Black Lake, bottomless and dangerous.

“Sounds good,” Nathalie beamed, allowing him to believe that he knew the game they were playing. “When are you free next?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon? After classes,” Cedric suggested.

“Works for me,” she said softly. “The library?”

“Yes,” he answered, glad they had come to an arrangement.

Nathalie knew she had Cedric wrapped around her finger. He watched as she walked away, unable to ignore the elegant figure she cut beneath her school uniform. The green and silver would look good alongside his yellow and black, he thought. Cedric’s thoughts were eventually interrupted by the curiosity of his casual friends, the Weasley twins.

“Was that Nathalie Adams you were talking to?” Fred inquired.

George looked over at him knowingly, fully aware that he already knew this.

“Yeah,” Cedric responded with a delighted smile. “We have a study date in the library tomorrow.”

“Study date, you say?” George echoed, glancing at his brother.

“Well. We’re meeting to study,” Cedric said nonchalantly.

“Good luck with that, mate,” Fred offered, which was naturally met with confusion.

Cedric frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“I dunno,” Fred replied coolly. “Just… Nathalie’s a slippery one. Tricky little minx, she is.”

“She seemed perfectly nice to me,” Cedric shrugged.

“Because that’s what she wanted,” Fred told him, fully intending to instigate. “She’s a smart one. Likes to play games; takes a special kind of bloke to keep up with a girl like that,” Fred stated, hinting to him.

“You think?” Cedric asked him.

This thought hadn’t necessarily crossed his mind yet.

“Just be careful with her, is all,” George Weasley advised him. “It’s like handling a snake; you don’t know if it’s poisonous, but even if it’s not you could still lose a finger.”

“Might be best to leave this one to someone a bit more experienced,” Fred offered with a shrug, giving him a supportive pat on the back before the twins disappeared, leaving Cedric alone with his thoughts.

-

Chapter Two

[silver-hwaberry]

A mini preview of an upcoming fic I am going to start working on.

I Can See You

Pairing: Idol!Yunho x Idol!FemOC

Genre: romance, smut, angst, forbidden love,

Preview:

--2016--

Yeonghwa let out a heavy sigh as she plopped into her usual seat at the back of the classroom. The School of Performing Arts Seoul was both a blessing and a curse for Yeonghwa, being the youngest member of the popular K-pop girl group Moonlight. As she gazes around the room, she could feel the weight of the judgemental stares and harsh whispers following her every move which was a daily occurrence when she attended school. Despite her fame, high school was still a daily struggle for Yeonghwa.

Even though she had debuted two years earlier and found success, she was still only 17 years old and had to attend high school in Korea. Her hectic schedule often kept her from attending class and made it difficult for her to keep up with her studies compared to her peers. She was also the only member of her group who was still in school. The pressure of being a popular idol while also trying to maintain her education was overwhelming. However, it was a requirement set by her parents when they allowed her to move from Yeosu-si to Seoul at the age of 13 to become a trainee. "Don't forget about your education," they told her, and she was determined to make them proud by excelling in both areas.

As she pulls out her textbooks, she feels the weight of dozens of eyes on her.

"Did you see her performance last night?" “What was she even wearing? It was hideous!” “Her ass is way too big to be wearing that skirt last night! It would have looked much better on Jinni instead.” “No way, Haneul would have rocked that outfit! Don’t know why they give it to her!” “Probably because she would have had a tantrum at someone else being centre of attention. Little Miss Attention Seeking once again!” "They need to kick her out of the band, Areum is a much better dancer and she can actually rap too.”

The murmurs swirl around her, a constant reminder that she didn't belong here. Yeonghwa keeps her head down, trying to focus on the lesson ahead. Just as the teacher was about to begin, the classroom door swung open.

"Sorry I'm late!" A tall boy with a kind smile rushes in, bowing apologetically to the teacher.

“You must be the new transfer student to my class!” The teacher says

“That’s me!” he grins

“Everyone…. this young man…” the teacher says awkwardly, clearly not knowing the young mans name, “will be joining our class. Be nice to him!”

“He is so handsome!” Yeonghwa hears from the girl infront of her

“You can sit over there, beside Aria!” the teacher points at the empty seat beside her

Yeonghwa feels her chest tighten as some quiet laughs are heard around the room. She hated people calling her by her stage name. As he makes his way to his seat, his eyes meet Yeonghwas. Instead of the usual judgement or disdain she was used to, she saw warmth.

The boy slides into the empty desk beside her. "Hi," he whispers, offering a friendly grin. "You're Yeonghwa, right?"

Yeonghwa nods cautiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But his smile only widens. "It is nice to meet you! I'm Yunho!"

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Let's call it Fate | Part 11

(A/N) Couldn't leave it with just angst in this chapter. Ugh, I just love their relationship.

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: google translate translations, abusive parents (especially mother), arranged marriage, age gap, bullying, talk of grandparents and death of a grandparent, mistreatment of Ghouls, threats, angst, fluff, kissis

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

With Primo still holding your hand - he had by then sunken down on the chair Copia had prepared for you - you glanced into the office and watched as Copia greeted your parents and asked them to sit down on the other side of his desk. They did and you couldn’t help but wince when you saw your mother’s attire - as if she was meeting the pope.

“So, Cardinal Copia, I hope you don’t mind us going straight to the point, why did you summon us?”

Your father’s voice was warm and tinged with a hint of confusion and concern. Your mother’s on the other hand was as cold and sharp as always.

“Surely it’s because our daughter is failing all of her classes, is it not? Can’t even get that right, that little-”

Copia cut her off with a raised hand as you felt Primo’s eyes bore into your back. And you knew what you would find in them if you decided to turn and look, but you couldn’t take the pity that would surely fill them. Not in that moment.

“No, that is not the reason. In fact, your daughter is one of our best pupils. She excels even in subjects she struggles in and is beloved here in the Ministry.”

You wished you could’ve seen your parents’ faces at that moment. And if you did, you would have noticed that while your mother seemed genuinely surprised, your father looked proud.

“Well, why have you summoned us then?”

“Because of the arrangement you have with the Warren family. I assume you had hoped no one would find out about the fact that you practically sold your daughter because you ran out of money. Now, I usually wouldn’t interfere with the private lives of the students, but nothing about this situation is usual and I have come to care a great deal about your daughter.”

His eyes flickered to yours for but a split second.

“So, the reason I summoned you here is because I want to ask you to call off the arrangement.”

Silence hung in the air as your parents slowly took in what had just been said and what felt like hours, were only seconds before your mother started cackling.

“With all due respect, Cardinal-” the title sounded sarcastic coming from her lips. “there is no way we would break that deal off, just because you asked for it. Do you even know who we-”

This time it was your father who silenced her as she turned to look at him. From where you were standing, you could see the shock and rage in her eyes.

“You…said that you care about our daughter. In what way?”

Once again Copia’s eyes flickered to yours, but this time, they lingered, asking a silent question. Should he tell them? You hesitated, unsure how they would take it, or if they would even care. But in the end, you nodded, and Copia’s eyes returned to your parents, flickering from your father to your mother and back again.

“I’m in love with your daughter.”

He didn’t elaborate, knowing that his words would have to sink in for a moment. And they did. For what felt like hours, silence filled the room. The air felt thick and your breaths got caught in your throat multiple times as you waited for your parent’s reaction.

“You’re not serious.”

Copia turned and looked at your mother, a deep frown on his face.

“I can assure you I am.”

Then your father spoke up.

“With all due respect, Cardinal, I am not sure I feel comfortable with your statement. You are much older than her and are currently in a position of authority. I don’t want to accuse you of anything, but-”

“Then don’t.”

You had let go of Primo’s hand and stepped out of your hiding place. Everyone looked at you, as you walked to Copia’s side, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He immediately covered it with his, smiling up at you.

“I know neither of you could in any way shape or form understand that anyone could love me for me, after all not even you can do that.”

You glared at your parents, eyes lingering on your mother, who just huffed and turned her face away, looking at the wallpaper to her right.

“But he does. And…and I love him…so very much.”

While finishing your sentence, your eyes found Copia’s, relief flowing through you when you found them already on you, determination and adoration reflected in them. Then your eyes flickered to your father.

“He is kind and gentle. He protects me, while all Noah has done so far is threaten and hurt me.”

As soon as you mentioned Noah, your father averted his eyes, staring at the edge of the table instead of at you. And something about that broke your heart.

“I…”, you took a deep breath, as your hands began to tremble from both anger and sadness. “I don’t know what I have done to you both, for you to feel so indifferent toward me, to hate me the way you do. To not care about me and only use me, but I will not give up on this…on him.”

Tears gathered in your eyes as they flickered from your, by now enraged mother, to your ashamed-looking father. You gathered that there was nothing you could say, that would convince your mom to take action, but your father…

“Dad?”

His eyes returned to you, sadness reflected in them.

“Okay, that’s enough. You-” Your mother jumped up and pointed at you. “-are coming home with us right now. Sending you here was a mistake.”

She turned around and stalked toward the door, turning back to face you when she realized that neither of you were moving. Just as she was about to yell something, your father rose to his feet but didn’t move. Instead, he looked you in the eyes, conviction in his.

“We will talk to them. The Warrens. And we will cancel the contract.”

A relieved gasp escaped you as your legs almost gave up from underneath you. Catching on in time, Copia rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you upright while he carefully guided you to sit down in his chair. Then he turned to your father.

“I appreciate that.”

Copia nodded at your dad, a hand on your shoulder. Your father returned the nod and turned around, walking toward your baffled mother. But Copia called out his name, and he stopped, turning back to look at the Cardinal.

“I would like to talk to you in private if that’s okay?”

Your father nodded, waiting for Copia to lead the way to a private room, but before he did so, Copia turned to you, silently asking if it was also okay for you. You nodded with a smile and watched him lead your father out the door. Only then did you realize that your mother would stay with you, and silent dread began to fill you, but before the door closed, all of the Ghouls entered and stepped up to the desk, basically creating a barrier between the woman who birthed you and you.

A smile spread on your lips, as you watched the wall of black in front of you, knowing that they were here for you. And in that moment, the tears you had been holding back ever since your parents entered the room, welled up in your eyes as you quickly wiped at your eyes, not wanting to give your mother the satisfaction in case she could see you even a little bit. Even though the tears were out of relief and happiness, she would just see them as confirmation that you were weak. And now you knew that weak was the last thing you were.

After about ten minutes, the door opened again and Copia and your father stepped inside. Through the cracks in the Ghoul wall, you could see them shake hands before your father ushered your mother outside, Swiss and Dew following.

“Thank you everyone.”

The Ghouls nodded, sending you a few smiles before they grabbed Primo and left. Copia seemed confused when he saw his brother, but didn’t bring it up. Instead, he rushed to your side, especially when he saw the tears, that by then had started flowing down your cheeks, sinking to his knees in front of you.

“Are you okay, amore?”

You nodded, a smile on your face as you hugged him.

“I’m just relieved.”

Copia nodded, holding you tightly. And while you were content with just staying in his arms for the next few hours, curiosity was nagging at you and you slowly pulled back.

“What did you talk to my father about?”

He smiled as he got to his feet, helping you up as well, and leading you to the couch, where he pulled you down, into his lap. Bianca immediately scattered out from behind your hair and jumped onto the couch, making her way to the pillows, where she curled up. Both you and Copia watched with a smile before you turned back to look at each other.

“I just assured him that I have the means to take care of you, as well as of him and your mother. Financially that is. I also informed him, that my position within the Ministry allowed me to finalize divorces.”

Your eyes widened at the last piece of information.

“Do you think they will…?”

Copia shrugged, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I recommended it. I know it’s hard to believe after the way you have been treated your whole life, but your padre…he loves you. When you’re ready…maybe you can talk to him.”

You didn’t react, not sure what to think. Yes, your father had always been kind to you, or at least kinder than your mother. But he had also stayed silent while she abused you, didn’t interject when she insulted you, and just stood by when she sold you. Could someone like that really love you?

“Hey…come back to me.”

You looked up at Copia. There was a frown on his face, his brows pulled together in concern. But you just smiled.

“I’m here.”

That also made him smile as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, mumbling a quiet ‘bene’ against it. You stayed like that for a few more minutes, until the grandfather clock in the corner of the office chimed. Copia sighed, shifting underneath you.

“Time for breakfast, amore.”

His words registered, but the only one you cared about was the last one. Now that it was semi-official and you no longer had to worry about Noah or his family, it finally sunk in. You and Copia…were together. Before you could stop yourself, you spoke.

“Say that again.”

Copia frowned for a second.

“Time for breakfast?”

You chuckled but shook your head.

“The other part.”

His lips formed a silent ‘o’ as he realized what you were talking about, before he leaned down, ghosting his lips over yours.

“Amore.”

Your lips connected in a soft peck, and you couldn’t help but giggle when he pulled back.

“Again.”

“Amore.”

Another kiss, this one a little longer, a little more intense.

“Amore.”

He barely lifted his lips, before connecting them to yours again, moving them in tandem with yours. His tongue peeked out, swiping against your lower lip, and you were about to open your mouth when a sharp knock sounded from the door. You quickly pulled away from each other, both glancing toward the set of double doors.

“Who is it?”

There was silence for a second before you heard a familiar voice on the other side.

“Your fratello, fratello.”

Copia grumbled something under his breath before he gently set you down on the couch and got to his feet, crossing the room to open the door for Papa Terzo. During the few seconds, it took Copia to walk to the doors, you quickly rubbed a hand over your lips, trying to get rid of the paint that must’ve transferred there earlier. As soon as there was enough space for Papa Terzo to squeeze through, he made his way into the room, not noticing you immediately.

“Do you want to tell me why I just saw two of the most influential people walk out of here, looking less than happy?”

Terzo turned and glared at his brother, as Copia quickly shut the door and turned to look at the Papa. You watched as he hesitated for a second, unsure of what to say.

“Because Copia helped me.”

As soon as you spoke up, two pairs of eyes landed on you and you knew you had their full attention. Papa Terzo fully turned to face you, a confused frown on his face, while Copia joined you on the couch, before gesturing for Terzo to sit down.

“What do you mean?”

Copia quickly reached for your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“You don’t have to tell him, amore.”

You watched as Papa Terzo’s eyes widened at the nickname, a knowing smile forming on his lips, while Copia stayed oblivious to his brother’s realization.

“He will find out eventually, it’s okay.”

After taking a deep breath, you turned to the Papa, and started to explain.

“Those were my parents. They…they sold me into an arranged marriage with one of my peers. Copia, he…he found out and talked to them, asking them to cancel the arrangement, because…because…”

“Because you’re in love. Both of you.”

Copia’s head swiveled around to look at his brother, eyes wide and surprise clear on his face.

“How…?”

Papa Terzo chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, a genuine smile on his face.

“Oh fratello, you have been colpito by her since the very first day. The way you grew defensive whenever I tried to flirt with her and how you whined all day long, about how you missed her, last week. You’re easy to read, fratellino. Plus, you just called her amore.”

The last part seemed to genuinely surprise Copia, as he continued to stare at his brother, his eyes widening even further in realization. Then he started to quietly chuckle to himself, as his cheeks grew pink.

“I guess I’ll have to learn to be more discreet.”

You smiled and squeezed his hand, catching his attention again. He leaned in, still smiling, and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. Laughing, you pulled back and rubbed a hand over your forehead, trying to get rid of the paint you knew was there.

“Us both.”

The clearing of a throat caught your attention again and the two of you looked back toward Papa Terzo. He was still smiling, seeming genuinely happy that his brother was happy.

“Anyway, we should go get breakfast for now. However, we will be having a meeting about this with the rest of the leading members, si? Perhaps, we can take action against that kind of behavior.”

The last comment gave you hope. Even though your father said that he’d take care of the arrangement, you were still scared, because you knew the Warrens and they didn’t like it when they didn’t get what they were promised. But if the Papa and the clergy took action, then they wouldn’t have a choice.

A relieved sigh escaped you, as you watched Papa Terzo rise to his feet, Copia and you quickly following suit. Before he could take a step, you called out to the current Papa.

“Thank you, Papa. It…it means a lot.”

Papa Terzo looked back at you, a soft smile on his lips.

“Please, it’s Terzo for you. You’re family now.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Copia mirroring your expression before a relieved smile took over. And before you could respond, Terzo turned and walked toward the doors, turning around once he reached them.

“Are you coming?”

You glanced at Copia, only to find him already looking at you, and with a soft nod, the two of you joined Terzo, and made your way to breakfast.

Translations: amore...love padre...father bene...good fratello...brother colpito...smitten fratellino...little brother

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Tags: @antoniamarie1989

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[eleanor-bradstreet]

Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 17: The Country Visit

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer from a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: G Word count: 9.5k

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Author's note: Thank you for your incredible patience, dear readers. I am still alive. Life has been life-ing me pretty hard but I think about finishing this fic every damn day. This chapter and the next one are the two big exposition bois that I hadn't written, hence the long wait for them but after that, several chapters are fully completed. I hope you enjoy the family shenanigans in this one. Also, I fully recognize that every time I mention Kate I simp for her ethereal beauty, for which I shall not apologize because she is a goddess and should be described as such. 😜 Enjoy! 💙

The endless procession of carriages marking the arrival of the Bridgerton family at Aubrey Hall brought with it an array of feelings for Benedict. An anxiety and sadness that his family would serve as a wedge between him and Sophie, and an undeniable eagerness to embrace them all, having been apart for so long. A familiar warmth flooded his heart as their voices began echoing in the entry hall and he dashed to meet them.

Anthony was the first to reach him, smirking. “Ah! Our invalid.” He hugged his brother tightly, leaving a possessive hand cupped behind his ear as he looked him over. “Are you alright?” The concern in his eyes betrayed how deeply the steely-faced Viscount truly cared.

“Never better,” Benedict grinned.

“Good,” Anthony clapped him on the shoulder and began to drift toward his study. “I’m pleased to see you haven’t burned the place down. I’m off to meet with Dewitt.”

His sister-in-law Kate glided along behind her husband, resplendent even in traveling clothes. Flashing Benedict a warm smile, she squeezed his arm as she passed. 

Daphne and Simon had joined the throng and Benedict paused a moment to observe everyone. There was comfort in the chaos of the reunion. Seeing them felt like snapping back into reality, as if he had been living in a fantasy world tucked away with Sophie and her faerie-like enchantment over him. He wondered if anyone would be able to detect something amiss. Though he had managed to be discreet about all manner of outrageous activity in the past, he had never attempted to hide something so close to home. 

“Benedict, dear.” His mother extricated herself and approached him with open arms.

“Mother,” He folded into her embrace.

“I have missed you.” She rested a hand on his cheek. “You are feeling quite well again?”

“Perfectly,” he smiled. “I’m the picture of health.”

She pulled back and appraised him, her eyes brightening. “I should say so. You wrote that you had hired a nurse to help you? We owe her our thanks, no doubt.” 

Benedict felt the color rise in his cheeks. “Yes, well, not a nurse exactly. She is a very skilled maid and…”

“Well how serendipitous!” His mother exclaimed. “I must ask you, do you know if she has experience as a lady’s maid?” His stomach clenched, already apprehensive of where this may lead. “I don’t know. Possibly?”

“Oh, I do hope she does.” Taking him by the elbow, Violet moved to a corner of the hall and dropped her voice to the exasperated tone Benedict knew was reserved for bemoaning his siblings’ misdeeds. “Just before we left, Eloise’s lady’s maid took ill and stayed behind. Though in truth I wonder if she did not bow out so as to avoid your sister’s moods.”

Benedict couldn’t help but snicker, unabashedly proud of his sister’s obstinance. 

“What is her name again?” Violet asked.

“Sophie,” Benedict tried to keep his voice from wavering. “Sophie Beckett.”

His mother’s face lit with a smile. “Excellent. I shall call for her during tea.”

“Oh…um…perhaps…” A dozen half baked protests swirled in his mind and he stuttered as he tried to land on one. 

Her plan already happily cemented, his mother began to shoo him down the hall. “You should go and help Anthony, dearest. Oh, and make sure Colin stays away from the kitchen as best you can. We’ll need to have some biscuits saved for our guests. Plenty to do, dear. Off you go.”

Anxiety spiking through his every nerve, Benedict stumbled away blindly. He fought to find composure, reminding himself that if he and Sophie were to remain undiscovered, he must not get flustered over the details of her employment. He must act as if she were any other maid, though of course she was anything but.

___

The Bridgertons had only just arrived and Sophie was already second-guessing her decision to remain at Aubrey Hall. She had been so wholly focused on Benedict that she had failed to consider what risks there were in being seen by his family. When all of the servants had formed their customary lineup at the front doors to welcome them home, she had tucked herself behind Lizzie and admired each well appointed carriage and each handsome brunette Bridgerton that stepped out of it. Then he appeared and her blood ran cold.

Colin Bridgerton. The only other person with whom she had interacted at the masquerade ball. Living on gauzy dreams of Benedict for years, she had forgotten about it entirely. What if he had a keener eye than his brother? What if he remembered her voice? Would he be able to recognize her from that brief, masked encounter in a shadowed garden so long ago? Reason told her it was highly unlikely but she resolved to avoid him nonetheless. She turned her face as he jogged up the steps and he took no notice of her. Once everyone had gathered inside Sophie was introduced to the housekeeper Mrs. Wilson, an older woman of stern stature but kind eyes. Accepting Mr. Dewitt’s explanation of her employment, Mrs. Wilson’s first task for Sophie was to iron more linens for the guest bedrooms. 

Hard at work in the belly of the house, Sophie’s mind raced. While in proximity to the Bridgertons she was at twofold risk of discovery. Discovery not only of her scandalous relationship with Benedict, but of her trespassing into their London home years ago. How would Benedict react if either came to light? Surely it would be the end of their trysts, the end of her employment, perhaps the end of her freedom if they chose to prosecute her. Perhaps she should remain in the servant’s level for the entirety of the country visit which effectively ended their dalliance anyway. She began to wonder if she had already shared her last encounter with Benedict. Had already felt his caress for the final time, had already tasted their last kiss…

“Staying on then, are you?”

Anne suddenly appeared in the doorway and startled Sophie out of her thoughts. Even after weeks of working alongside one another while Sophie extended every kindness, the fellow maid had never warmed to her. She wore a perpetual grimace and seemed immune to any kind of cheer.

“Yes,” Sophie swallowed and turned back to her ironing. “The family has permitted me to stay and assist with the visit.”

Anne smirked. “You mean Mr. Benedict has permitted you to stay.”

Sophie ignored the flutter in her stomach and answered matter-of-factly. “Yes, it was his decision initially.”

Blocking the exit, Anne crossed her arms, leering. “He seems quite taken with you. I’ve never seen any member of the family so invested in a maid before. Kindnesses exceeding what is customary.”

Sophie knew the steam from the iron was not the reason she felt flushed. But she had a lifetime of experience dealing with manipulation. She wouldn’t be shaken so easily. The trick was to answer with ruthless exactitude; never lying, but never giving her tormentor what she knew they wanted. “Well, my hiring was anything but customary. He was in need and I was available to assist. I believe he is only trying to express gratitude.”

“Gratitude, yes.” Anne arched a brow. “You spend a lot of time upstairs…accepting his gratitude.”

Stiffening, Sophie forced a breezy tone. “I am on hand if he should require anything. He often requests that I read to him.”

“I know how to read and in all these years he’s never once asked me.” Anne’s pout and petulant tone assured Sophie that she was none the wiser to the actual truth. She may have been ready to brandish threats but had no proof. This line of accusation was fueled purely by jealousy which she had been riddled with from the day they met.

Sophie pursed her lips. “Well, it does require a degree of wit and character to truly make the passages come to life.”

Before Anne could respond, Mrs. Wilson appeared at her side.

“Miss Beckett, if you would follow me.”

With a nod of assent Sophie brushed passed Anne, flashing her a warning look that dared another challenge.

Sophie’s nerves rose steadily as she walked silently behind Mrs. Wilson, the both of them winding their way through staircases and halls until they reached the closed doors of the drawing room. Sophie swallowed hard, wondering what awaited her inside. An array of accusatory scowls and a note of dismissal? A fuming Viscount shaking a piece of her waylaid clothing at a shame-faced Benedict? The sins they had committed in that room…

But when Mrs. Wilson pushed open the door she was met with the lovely tableau of ladies at tea. The Viscountess and Lady Bridgerton sat in all their finery on opposite sofas, sipping lightly from china cups. Miss Francesca played a flowery tune on the piano in a far corner. The youngest Bridgerton, Miss Hyacinth, was practicing her penmanship with a governess at a table. The room was sunlit and nothing but welcoming.

Mrs. Wilson ushered Sophie to stand before the sofas and she curtsied deeply.

The elder Lady Bridgerton rested her saucer and looked up.

“Ah, you must be Miss Bennett.”

“Beckett, ma’am.” Sophie dropped her eyes respectfully. “Sophie Beckett.”

“Oh yes, I’m sorry.” Lady Bridgerton chuckled and Sophie could not help but notice how the blue shade of her eyes matched Benedict’s exactly. “Miss Beckett. I must thank you for caring for my son during his illness. How fortunate that you were at hand in his time of need. Our family is indebted to you.”

Once again, Sophie was struck by the kindness that seemed inherent to the Bridgertons. She had never been treated so well by any employer. “No, I am indebted to him, ma’am. Your son…saved me from a most unpleasant fate, then gave me employment here while I am between positions. He has been more than generous and I have very much enjoyed the hospitality of your home.” 

There was a world of story hidden behind her words, but she was confident it would remain there. Discretion was one of the many skills she had learned through the hardships of her life.

Then the Viscountess addressed her. “It sounds as if your debts have been mutually paid then.” She was so impossibly beautiful, Sophie found it difficult to hold her gaze despite her warm smile. “Miss Beckett, have you secured a new position yet?”

“Not yet, my lady.”

“Would it be your wish to remain in our employment?”

Benedict’s mother jumped in to explain. “My second daughter Eloise is without a lady’s maid at the moment. I’m afraid we are short-staffed to prepare her for the ball we are hosting. Have you any experience upstairs?”

Sophie’s thoughts began to race. She had intended to remain for the country visit, but as a housemaid relegated to the servant’s level. To work upstairs would complicate her plans to stay out of sight. And yet when she tried to dredge up the white lies she used to deceive the Cowpers, she found that she could not. The gentleness in both women’s eyes compelled her to tell the truth. “Yes, ma’am. It has been some years but I have dressed young ladies for the season.”

Lady Bridgerton beamed. “Excellent. I thought you might. You speak very well. You seem to be precisely what our family needs at every turn, don’t you? A blessing indeed.”

“If you should like to remain as a lady’s maid for Miss Eloise, we will increase your wages and keep you on during our visit,” said the Viscountess.

Lady Bridgerton nodded. “Yes, and we will provide a letter of the highest recommendation for your next position.”

Sophie paused a moment, considering their offer. Clearly Benedict had not told them of his own offer to refer her and pay her handsomely once she found a new position. An offer of employment had never materialized from the Stirling household in Scotland, something she had been quietly celebrating since mending things with Benedict. A recommendation from a Viscountess would carry more weight than that of a second son, and raised wages from a higher position could set her up nicely for the future when and if she ever needed to leave the family’s employ. Weighing the benefits against the risks, she reasoned that Colin Bridgerton and any other member of the ton were unlikely to recognize her for the same reason Benedict could not. Their own bias against her lowly position. If anyone questioned her, she had only to point at her servant’s uniform to undermine their suspicions. Who would truly believe the trajectory of her life? From faux debutante at a Bridgerton ball long ago, to a servant in the very same household. It beggared belief, sometimes even from herself.

Working upstairs also afforded her more opportunity to see Benedict, if not speak with him directly. She knew they were enforcing distance but her heart already ached to at least see him from afar. To see how he interacted with his family and how he navigated society. At Eloise’s side she could safely observe him without seeming out of place. She was resolved.

“Thank you, Lady Bridgerton.” She curtsied to the Viscountess and then her mother-in-law. “Lady Bridgerton…both of you. I should very much like to stay.”

Next she knew, she had been outfitted with a smarter uniform and marched back upstairs to the family wing by Mrs. Wilson.

The housekeeper bustled along in front of her, all business. “Mrs. Wiggin tells me that you have been of great help around the house. There will be no more cleaning and tea service duties for you now that you are to attend Miss Eloise. You will be responsible for waking her, dressing her, chaperoning her on outings and tending to her needs.” 

“Yes, I understand.”

They moved past Benedict’s bedroom and rounded down another hall before stopping in front of a door. Mrs. Wilson turned to her with a serious look.

“I should warn you. Miss Eloise is…spirited. She has had four lady’s maids since her debut, if you take my meaning.” She raised her eyebrows pointedly. “Perhaps you should count yourself lucky that you are only standing in for the visit.”

Sophie felt a pang of apprehension. Benedict had not spoken much about his siblings during their time together, and certainly not in any way that would indicate they were anything but kind and playful. She had noted Eloise’s curious absence from teatime and had also begun to recall hearing her name in the Cowper household years ago. Cressida held a very poor opinion of her but then, that did not make Eloise more notable than any other young lady of the ton. There was certainly no way Eloise could be worse than Cressida.

After a quick rap on the door, Mrs. Wilson pushed it open and they stepped inside. Seated at a large and cluttered writing desk in the middle of her well-appointed bedroom, Eloise startled at their appearance and quickly shuffled papers over whatever it was that held her focus. She stood, trying to obscure the desk behind herself. Instantly Sophie understood why Eloise may be regarded as ‘difficult’. Prim and proper young debutante she was not. She had the stance and smirk of one who did not much care for etiquette and tradition. Her hair was unfashionably short and fringed and the jacket she wore over her pale sage dress had a rather masculine crop. The room was untidy and filled with the kind of ornaments one would expect in a man’s study -  piles of books, ink stains on parchment, busts of authors, and a large telescope facing a window. 

Mrs. Wilson regarded her with exasperation. “Miss Eloise, this is Sophie Beckett. She will be serving as your lady’s maid while we are in the country.”

Sophie curtsied and smiled.

“Excellent. Pleasure to meet you.” The sarcasm was thick in her voice. She forced a grin as Mrs. Wilson bowed out of the room. Her affectation continued as she rolled her eyes. “I am so delighted that a stand-in was found to assist me with the crucial undertaking of buttoning my frocks.”

Sophie quirked her lips, entertained rather than daunted by Benedict’s rebellious sister. “I am certain you would be capable of managing such a task yourself, Miss. But is there not some pleasure to be found in conversation with a confidante throughout your day?”

The young woman cocked her head, assessing Sophie carefully. “Confidante? I’ve never had a lady’s maid describe herself as such before.”

“What are we for but safeguarding the secrets of our ladies?” From the smell of tobacco in the air, she deduced what Eloise had been doing at her desk. She jutted her chin knowingly at the mess of papers. 

A wry smile began to spread across Eloise’s face as she sat and uncovered the tobacco pouch and collection of rolling papers. Sophie felt a surge of victory at already winning a degree of trust.

Eloise toyed with the half-rolled cigarette she had been making. “I know ladies should not smoke, but if I will not be allowed more privacy while we are in the country, at least you could spare me a little indulgence.”

Sophie moved to her side and delicately plucked the cigarette from her grasp. “I believe you should roll them more tightly. Like this.” Carefully, she worked at the paper until it was shaped securely.

Eloise’s eyes boggled. “Do you enjoy them yourself?”

Sophie shook her head. “Not me, no. But I have worked with many people who do.” She handed the token back.

“Thank you.” Eloise could not seem to look away from her remarkable new lady’s maid who not only failed to chastise her for unladylike behavior, but even assisted her with it. She tucked the cigarette safely into a case on her desk. Her posture eased and she leaned back to get a better look at this rare woman. “Where do you come from?”

“North of London originally, but I have lived many places and worked in many houses.” 

Eloise’s eyes lit with recognition. “Are you the one my brother hired recently?”

Sophie tried not to blush at the mere mention of Benedict. “Yes. Mr. Bridgerton assisted me in a difficult situation then fell ill. I was able to return the favor by ensuring he recovered here.” Considering what a rulebreaker Eloise appeared to be, Sophie wondered what such a woman would think of her brother’s salacious dalliance with a maid. She would never reveal it of course, but she got the impression that Eloise may not be scandalized by the concept.

“And now I am your problem in place of him.” Eloise smirked.

Sophie chuckled. “I would not use that word, Miss. I have enjoyed his company and look forward to getting to know you and your family better.”

To demonstrate her readiness she began tidying, brushing loose tobacco dust from the desk and dropping it into the fireplace. She moved to the vanity and began straightening the hairbrushes and tincture bottles which were woefully disarrayed.

“Well I doubt there will be much time for chatter with the guests inbound in two days. This Hearts and Flowers ball always brings chaos to the house.” Eloise groaned from her seat.

Sophie already anticipated her answer but asked. “It sounds as if you are not looking forward to it?”

Eloise shrugged. “There are some acquaintances I am eager to see, but plenty that I would rather avoid. I’m not even sure I know who is on the guest list this year.” 

“Could you ask the Viscountess?”

“I fear she would misinterpret my intentions and believe I was searching for an eligible suitor, which is a conversation I’d like to avoid entirely, thank you very much.” 

Sophie had to keep from laughing at how utterly dejected Eloise looked, arms crossed and posture slumped. Then she had an idea, a way of both solving the conundrum and earning more trust.

“Copies of the list are provided to the staff so that we might prepare rooms and meals. Would you like me to secure one for you?”

Eloise brightened, once again agog at her new companion. “That would be helpful, thank you Sophie.”

“You’re very welcome, Miss.”

The smile they shared was filled with affinity. Here was another woman who kept secrets, who broke rules. A woman not unlike herself, Sophie thought, yet also similar to Benedict in her ease and good humor. Working for Eloise was a world away from working for Cressida. Sophie could not imagine two young ladies at further ends of the spectrum regarding propriety and appearances. Like her brother, Eloise’s disposition was rare within society and Sophie began to wonder if every last Bridgerton was so uniquely charming.

Sophie spent the evening acquainting herself with Eloise’s wardrobe and toilette, straightening her room as she went. She had half a mind to call Anne upstairs for the task so that she might acknowledge Sophie’s promotion, but it seemed too spiteful. She still aimed to keep a low profile among the staff and family both. She was able to procure a copy of the ball guest list from Mrs. Wiggin and on her way to deliver it to Eloise, she made sure to scan the names herself.

The Cavenders had not been invited, which she suspected Benedict had a hand in. The Cowpers were also noted as sending their regrets. Just seeing their name in print made Sophie break into a cold sweat, but she remembered that they often visited Penwood at this time of year which likely explained their absence. Fortune seemed to be on her side for avoiding any risky encounters, and there was a spring in her step as she returned to Eloise’s room to prepare her for bed.

The next day was for the Bridgertons to enjoy the estate before guests arrived. Eloise proved difficult to rouse but quick to dress in the morning. Caring very little for ostentation, she was satisfied by the simple frock and hairband which Sophie supplied. After breakfast Eloise requested her company for a walk through the grounds. Sophie took the gesture as one of generosity and trust. As they walked through the gardens where she and Benedict had shared so many passionate moments, she fought to concentrate on what was being said. Eloise was an effortless companion in that she never left a lull in the conversation. Indeed, Sophie spoke very little except to express her general support of Eloise’s many plans for reforming society and her own path in life. She longed for an education, for adventure, for advocacy. She fretted for the plight of women, though Sophie suspected she had little understanding of the tribulations faced by the working class. Nonetheless, she was impressed with the young woman’s drive and eager to have further conversations on all Eloise had read and experienced. The spirited nature she had been warned of was proving to be nothing but charming.

The highlight of the day was the family’s annual pall mall game, which Eloise explained the rules of as Sophie accompanied her to the back lawn. They arrived at the site of the game before anyone else and Eloise unabashedly outlined her devious plans. Grabbing the fifth wicket from a stack, she hitched her dress and began marching across the grass to place it in the most inconvenient location possible, somewhere between a dense thicket of bushes and the infamous ball-pit of the lake. She assigned Sophie to stand guard several paces away and then disappeared into the brambles, wicket in hand.

Sophie kept her back to Aubrey Hall, snickering to herself as she enjoyed the cool breeze. She remembered Benedict’s retelling of last year’s game and now had a clearer picture of Eloise’s ruthless, even deceptive competitiveness. She also wondered when the last time was that she assisted in any task purely for the sake of fun. It was a light, sunny feeling. Which all came crashing down when a man’s voice rang out behind her.

“You there!”

She spun and saw Colin Bridgerton striding toward her, eyes stern. Oh god, he had recognized her. She could already hear the anger in his voice, could already feel his grip on her arm as he dragged her to the Viscount to expose her. She had been a fool to think she could stay hidden. She felt as paralyzed as a deer in the sights of a stalker.

All she could do was blanch, voice wavering. “Sir?”

He stopped short in front of her, eyes scrutinizing her face. “You…”

This was it. The end of her silly dreams…

“You’re not the lady’s maid from London,” he said at last.

Sophie nearly swayed on her feet as the wave of nausea halted. He didn’t recognize her. She was nothing but another nameless maid to him, just one he hadn’t seen before. Her assumptions had been correct. He was as blinded by her class as his brother. 

“No, sir,” she affirmed, finding her voice again. “I am newly retained to see to your sister while you are in residence.”

“Ah.” A smirk crossed his face and she could see he held his hands behind his back, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He scanned the lawn around them, quipping. “Can you see her now?”

Sophie felt certain that this was all a ploy in the great pall mall rivalry. Well, her allegiance was set. Pursing her lips, she answered. “She is placing the fifth wicket, sir.”

“And she asked you to stand guard.”

“Yes.” Sophie sensed the budding good humor of their conversation. “Do you suspect me of underhanded behavior?”

Colin grinned. “I am accusing my sister of it. I’m sure you are innocent and have been lured into her deceitful enterprise unknowingly.” Once again he searched the horizon. “If you could just tell me where she is…”

“A lady is entitled to her privacy, wouldn’t you agree?”

Colin’s eyes snapped back to her, surprised at her direct tone. 

“Do you believe I am so dimwitted as to allow myself to become embroiled in a scheme against my will?”

He bowed his head in apology. “I meant no offense. Most maids are unused to dealing with Eloise’s…spirited manner.”

There was that phrase again. Now it was Sophie’s turn to smirk.

“I have dealt with far worse than Miss Eloise, I assure you.”

Colin assessed her again carefully. “Well, you are clearly strong of spirit and quick of wit. What about sweet of tooth?”

Finally revealing what was behind his back, he held out a pastry. Something covered in chocolate and delectable looking. “Have you ever had an eclair?”

In truth, she had not, but her loyalty was not so easily bought.

She arched a brow at him. “A bribe? Is pall mall victory really so viciously contended for?”

He chuckled. “You have no idea.”

Their stalemate was broken by the reappearance of Eloise.

“What are you doing here?” Shaking leaves from the hem of her dress, she scowled at her brother. “Looking for the wicket? Well, you’ll have to find it during the game, along with everyone else.”

Nose in the air, she swiped the eclair from his outstretched palm, shoved it whole into her mouth and marched onward to the house. “Come on!” She ordered, her words muffled.

Barely containing her laughter, Sophie followed her mistress, leaving Colin gaping by the waterside.

Everyone had gathered in the sprawling back garden and were buzzing with the anticipation of play. Lady Bridgerton and a contingent of nursemaids were bouncing the grandchildren in their laps on a covered dais while the Viscount, his siblings and their spouses gathered to select their mallets. Eloise dashed into the crowd and secured the orange while Anthony and his wife seemed to bicker over the imposing black mallet. Sophie skirted the scene and started back up the large stone steps into the building but paused to find Benedict among the gathered chestnut heads. He stood slightly off to one side, hip cocked and hands rested on his lavender mallet as his eyes trailed up to hers.

It was the first time they had seen each other in two days and their shared gaze was heavy with yearning. In that moment, the noise and bustle of the Bridgertons fell away and they felt like the only two people on earth. As tenuous as their arrangement was, Sophie couldn’t help but feel magnetized to him; the only constant in her ever-changing circumstances. 

Benedict stared at her as a man transfixed, his chest tightening in that indescribable way. She looked happy, light-hearted, and it made her glow from within. He wanted to capture that light, to infuse it into her portrait…

“Brother!” Anthony barked in his ear, startling him out of his reverie.

“Are you playing or lollygagging?” Eyes burning with signature intensity, the Viscount bade him follow and Benedict forced himself to plod across the grass and away from the captivating woman on the stairs. No one seemed any the wiser as to what had caught his attention, but he wondered how long he could try to ignore Sophie when a single glimpse of her caused such turmoil within.

Darting into Aubrey Hall, Sophie stationed herself by a window to watch the game unfold. Though she could not hear any of the exclamations from the field, it was evident how much joy and fierce competition it stirred. Taunts, encouragement, cheers, laughter. The grounds were alive with the fun of it all. Every sibling and spouse demonstrated their skillset, some adept at the technical approach and others more determined to settle grudges by disrupting their opponents’ efforts. They moved numerically from wicket to wicket, varying in pace, sometimes disappearing from view to find the far-flung goals. Sophie could only imagine where Eloise had hidden hers. Colin was disqualified early but seemed entirely content to join his mother for cakes and tea while wiggling his fingers at his nephew Edmund.

After nearly two hours, the finalists lined up at a hoop approximately five feet off the ground, which Sophie understood from Eloise was the last goalpost. To be deemed the victor, one had to shoot their ball through the hoop by any means other than their hands. The Viscount’s shot went wide. The Duchess’ did not achieve sufficient height. The Viscountess was prowling with anticipation for her shot but Benedict was before her in turn order. Sophie watched in delight as he took the unconventional tack of balancing his ball between his feet then jumping like a frog to launch it through the hoop. To everyone’s amazement - including his - it worked and he crowed with victory, running about and whooping in the faces of his siblings.

Sophie clapped from her spot at the window, laughing with glee. Of course she had been rooting for him and fate once again proved to be on their side. In the midst of her laughter she found that tears had begun rolling down her cheeks. Her joy was echoed by longing. Longing for siblings, longing for a family, longing for the kind of happy life enjoyed by the Bridgertons. But she wiped them away, recognizing that though she was still in the uniform of a maid, she was the happiest she had ever been. She still got to enjoy the beauty and comfort of Aubrey Hall even if she was not an esteemed guest from the ton. She still got to laugh at the shenanigans of the Bridgerton siblings even if she could not join in. And she still got to lay claim to Benedict as a lover, a man who pleasured and protected her, even in their odd arrangement. It was a happier life than she could ever have imagined while wretchedly scrubbing floors for the Cowpers. Tomorrow didn’t bear worrying about, because today she was happy.

___

At last the day of the Hearts and Flowers ball arrived. Carriages loaded with the top tier of society descended upon the house in waves. Aubrey Hall erupted with noise and movement as the guest rooms filled and the common areas became dotted with simpering debutantes, weary bachelors, drunken fathers and scheming mamas. The flower arrangements chosen by the Bridgerton women were dazzling. Garlands and swags of roses, lilacs and lilies. As she made her way to Eloise’s room, Sophie felt as if she were walking through both a verdant garden and a fine parfumerie.

As she picked out a shawl to match Eloise’s dress, trying to skillfully combat the young lady’s protestations against joining in lawn games, there came a knock at the door. When she opened it to find Benedict, her breath caught in her throat. He too seemed taken aback, stumbling over his words about lending his sister a book which he held out in explanation. Eloise sat at her vanity, thanked him and blithely waved him away. Turning to Sophie, Benedict pressed the small volume into her hands, his touch lingering too long on her bare fingers, eyes burning. Then as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

Examining the book, Sophie saw a sheet of parchment jutting from the back cover. Clearing her throat, she slipped it quickly into an apron pocket and carried the gift to Eloise. As she finished dressing her for the day, it was all she could do to keep her fingers from trembling with anticipation.

The day passed in a blur, with the Bridgertons and guests mingling in every corner of the house and grounds. Sophie joined the cadre of ladies maids who bustled between the bedrooms, stitching loose threads, buffing shoes, polishing jewelry and trading rose water as they coordinated for the evening ball. Stealing the occasional glance out the windows, Sophie eyed Eloise chatting in an animated fashion with a young lady in yellow. She also heard through the servants’ chatter that the men had returned from a hunt with a stag and two does felled. She wondered if Benedict had made any of the killing shots. If only she could catch a glimpse of him in his hunting ensemble, with a long coat and top hat astride Danae. The mental image gave her an undeniably carnal thrill.

In what seemed no time at all, she and Eloise were stationed back at the vanity, dusk falling purple and soft outside as Sophie lit candles and proceeded to pin the young lady’s hair into a stylish coiffure. In a cluttered drawer she had found a bejeweled hairpiece in the shape of a geranium and nestled it gently within her upswept tresses. For her gown, Eloise had chosen one in a modest style, mint-toned and glimmering with silver accents. Sophie thought it suited her perfectly - beautiful but understated. Style with wit rather than ostentation.

As she dotted rouge onto her cheeks, she asked an amiable question to which she already suspected the answer.

“Are you excited for the ball, Miss?”

“Not particularly.” Eloise’s voice was tight.

“You’re not one for dancing?” Sophie wondered if Eloise was also cursed with two left feet like her brother.

The young lady rolled her eyes. “I’m not one for listening to stodgy men prattle on about how many carriages they own as if that will enamor me enough to marry them.”

Sophie grinned. Eloise’s frankness was unfailingly refreshing. But she knew better than most the discomfort of feeling out of place, and she disliked the thought of sending her off into an evening of drudgery. However, this was Eloise’s role; to attend balls and interview suitors, the same way her role was to primp her to do so, and they had to proceed no matter how much they both longed for something different. All she could offer was her own commiserating perspective. 

“If I may be honest, in my experience it is rare to find gentlemen among the ton who are both kind and interesting.” Then she caught herself. “Of course, I am counting your brothers as the exceptions.”

Eloise scoffed. “Well, I’m not certain about that. You don’t really know them.”

Sophie felt the blush rise up her neck and turned to hide it, busying herself with the face powders. But it was too late, Eloise had noticed.

“Though I suppose you’ve come to know Benedict.” She smiled wryly, now even more curious about her new lady’s maid. “I will say, it’s not a secret that he is my favorite brother.”

Sophie continued to fiddle with the contents of the vanity. “Oh? And why is that?”

“I suppose of anyone in my family I can be my true self around him without fear of judgment or reprimand. He is supportive. Since our father died it’s as if he has been the eldest brother to us all, while Anthony became our father more or less.”

At last Sophie turned and met her gaze, impressed by the first genuine show of emotion she had seen. She moved to affix Eloise’s earrings, smiling wistfully. “It is wonderful that they have been there for you.”

Eloise nodded. “Mmm. And we are quite similar. Benedict also disdains balls and playing the marriage mart.”

As she worked at the small fasteners, Sophie pondered for the first time how odd it was that Benedict remained unmarried. Considering he had been deemed the most eligible bachelor in London years ago when they first met, he must have gone to great pains to avoid the throng of ladies throwing themselves at his feet. But why?

“So the two of you do not wish to marry?”

“Well, I don’t think Benedict is opposed to marriage. But he’s a romantic.” Eloise explained. “The only thing that motivates him are his passions. So he is waiting for a love match, I’m sure. Which is even harder to find than a good dance partner.”

She snorted in laughter which Sophie half-heartedly imitated. It was no revelation to her that Benedict had a romantic soul. He was an artist after all. But the thought of him marrying for love rather than duty, of being blissfully happy with a woman of society who would carry his children and walk on his arm, it made her stomach turn. It was everything she wanted and precisely what she could not have. It was why she would eventually have to leave.

Eloise carried on, completely oblivious. “I certainly do not want to get married or bear children. Though I am struggling to determine what kind of life is available to a woman otherwise.”

With this comment compounding the sting, Sophie could not help but make a sour face and look away.

That was enough to draw Eloise’s attention. “I’m sorry Sophie, that was insensitive of me. Of course there are plenty of unmarried women who work, and working for a livelihood is…”

“It’s just that you are not of the class that is required or even allowed to do so.” After a steadying breath, Sophie turned back. Her woes were not of Eloise’s making. If anything, they made her see how they were similarly caged at either end of the social spectrum. Perhaps in the world the young woman envisioned, they would both have been able to break free.

“You have not offended me. I understand. I understand very well how the circumstances of our birth can restrict our path in life and I do not think that applies only to the lower classes.” Bending over her shoulder to meet her eyes in the looking glass, Sophie gave her a reassuring smile. “There are a great many injustices in our society, Miss Eloise. It seems like you may be of a mind to help resolve some of them.”

Tears sparkling in her eyes, Eloise’s voice was raspy but sincere. “Thank you, Sophie.”

With continued words of encouragement Sophie gave her a handkerchief, helped her to pull on her gloves and sent her down to the ballroom looking as polished as an emerald. She would wait eagerly to hear how the evening progressed, wondering if she would return as dejected as she set out. As she straightened the bedroom, the murmurs of the gathered guests grew louder downstairs, followed by the first strings of music. It was joyful, romantic, and she was instantly transported back to the night of the masquerade ball. The first and only time she had been able to experience such magic firsthand. A night where she held Benedict’s undivided attention, twirling in his arms despite not knowing how to dance. With a moment of privacy at last, she fished the parchment out of her pocket and unfolded it. It was a painting, a simple watercolor of delicate blue flowers with their name written neatly in a corner - Forget Me Not.

Clasping the paper to her chest, she fell back onto Eloise’s bed, beaming. Her mind flooded with images of Benedict and the hope that his love match would continue to elude him that night. He was only downstairs and yet he felt worlds away. But no matter the distance, she was incapable of forgetting him.

____

In the rose colored ballroom below, everything was progressing with the signature elegance of a Bridgerton event. Candles twinkled from every sconce and surface, reflecting the crystal of the champagne flutes and the embellishments of the ladies’ attire. Flowers trailed along every railing and entryway, lending a sweet fragrance to the air. Dancers twirled expertly in the center of the room while guests in all their finery moved between clusters of conversation and towers of brightly colored confections. The Viscountess, dowager Lady Bridgerton and Duchess of Hastings stood regally near the double staircase, surveying the scene with pride.

The Viscount found himself among a group of gentlemen listening to the details of a business proposition laid out by Lord Fife. It was unlike Fife to have anything worthwhile to say, but his latest venture sounded promising. Even Simon was showing interest, as he elbowed his way in and they sipped their brandies together.

“Where is my brother?” Anthony muttered, scanning the faces of the men gathered. “God knows what he’s been up to these days. He should hear this.”

Simon sighed. “You should know by now that you need to be more specific than that. Which brother?”

“Benedict.”

The Duke’s brows shot up. “Ah. I haven’t seen him tonight. Though I have some idea where he might be.”

Anthony knew to be wary of that smug tone. Tapping his eldest friend on the arm, they steered away from the crowd. “What do you mean?”

Simon kept his voice low, turning his back to the room. “It’s none of my business but…in his convalescence he seems to have taken up with one of your maids.”

“Oh god,” Anthony groaned, eyes rolling. “How do you know this?”

“We have seen it, Daphne and I. I’ve seen his eyes follow her out of a room and Daphne said she has seen…”

The Duke paused, trying to tread lightly. He knew how easy his friend was to anger.

“What has she seen?” Anthony pressed him, teeth clenched.

Simon took a deep breath. “She has seen them touching. More than would be appropriate. On more than one occasion.”

Anthony’s eyes went wide, his nostrils flared. “Unbelievable.”

Hoping to avoid a public outburst, Simon tried to calm him. “Come now, Bridgerton. He’s a man. Let him have his fun.”

Anthony’s jaw locked, telegraphing his aggravation. “True, we all have our fun wherever we find it. But it remains unbecoming of a gentleman to flaunt it in one’s own house.” His eyes darted to ensure no one could overhear them. He leaned closer, hissing. “I knew he was…eccentric, but I didn’t think his tastes would extend to the help.”

Simon rolled his eyes, knowing this was a far lesser scandal than many they had faced together. Such as the one where they found themselves on opposite ends of dueling pistols. “I didn’t mean to sour your mood, I only wanted to keep you informed.”

Hands on his hips, Anthony steamed for a moment before acknowledging that it was neither the time nor place to address the matter. In their new chapter as relations, Simon had developed a knack for dissipating the Viscount’s untimely frustrations.

Anthony clapped him on the shoulder. “And I’m grateful that you did. You are a true friend. Although, should I call you brother now?” He smirked.

The Duke pointed a wry but warning finger. “Don’t push your luck, Bridgerton.”

___ After three glasses of champagne, two hours of inane conversation, and one good-natured turn with his mother across the dance floor, Benedict had endured about all he could take of the ball. While he has happy for his family that everyone was enjoying themselves, his heart was not in the event. Indeed, it felt somewhere else entirely. As he mumbled pleasantries with the same tired acquaintances and ducked around corners to avoid the fawning advances of Miss Dolores Stowell, he began to wonder what exactly the point of his attendance at such events was anymore. His peers were all there to ostensibly find their spouses and their elders were there to supervise the chase. But he would not find his wife in that ballroom or any other. 

The lady in silver was long vanished and even the memory of her was starting to feel as insubstantial as gossamer. For how long could he keep searching in vain? For how long could he pin all hope on an imagined future with her? One full of the passion, happiness and companionship he longed for? Then Sophie flashed in his mind and he wondered if he was truly longing anymore. Thoughts swimming, he snuck unnoticed out of the ballroom and made his way to a secluded spot where he could think undisturbed. The portico roof over the front doors of Aubrey Hall rested just beneath an array of windows that one could easily climb through and drop out of sight as they sat with a panoramic view of the grounds. It had become a secret, almost sacred place for both heartfelt conversation and mischief which he had only shared with Colin and Eloise, the latter of whom he was surprised to see had beat him to the punch and was sat on a corner of the roof, smoking.

She looked up in alarm as he clambered out of the window and dropped beside her, but on recognition she smiled and wordlessly offered him her cigarette. He took a drag, settling beside her, the two of them staring out at the parade of carriages in the drive and the shadowed hills of the lawn beyond. The stars were bright and the air was peaceful, a stillness in sharp contrast to what Benedict felt within.

Eloise smirked at him. “No one catching your eye, brother?”

He handed back the cigarette and took note of her appearance. It was still odd for him to see his little sister grown and out in society. In his mind she would always be stubborn little El, smudged in dirt and tromping around with a slingshot in hand and one of Colin’s hand-me-down caps. But here in her gown and jewels with her hair pinned beautifully, she rivaled the elegance of every young lady within. 

“I should ask you the same. I’m surprised the men aren’t falling all over themselves to dance with you. You look very lovely tonight.”

She smiled, straightening a bit. “It’s all thanks to the new maid, Miss Beckett. I like her very much.”

He felt the heat rise to his cheeks and the grin that broke across his face was entirely too large and entirely uncontrollable. Perhaps his sister wouldn’t see it in the low light, but his hopes were dashed.

“Benedict?” She studied him, cajoling. “You apparently like her too.”

He swallowed, speaking the truth aloud for the first time. “I do.”

He was surprised to find that he was not nervous about dropping his ruse. Not around Eloise. If there was anyone in the family he could be honest with, it was her. While they had always been close throughout their childhoods, it was when they confessed their shared disdain for the confines of society that the bedrock of their adult relationship had been formed. Whether on the swings in the garden of Bridgerton House or here on the portico roof of Aubrey Hall, they confided in one another about their desires and their struggles. Sometimes explicitly but more often simply through a silent, innate sense for when the other needed support and they never failed to provide it, in blanket sentiments or merely in physical presence. Benedict had escorted Eloise to many a ball she did not wish to attend and had pulled her briskly from the orbit of unsavory suitors. He had sat outside her bedroom door to stave off reprimands after Lady Whistledown had exposed her unsanctioned visits to political rallies and brought scandal down upon her head. After he had left the Royal Academy in shame, fresh sketchbooks, charcoals and paints continued to appear on the desk of his bedroom though he had not purchased them. And when he sulked in heartbreak and frustration for months after losing the lady in silver, Eloise would prod him for walks in the sunshine or games of chess, anything to keep his mind off of his pain without ever ridiculing his behavior, while the rest of his family were convinced he had gone mad. If anyone would champion his pursuit of happiness despite the risks it incurred, it would be Eloise.

True to her character, she did not blink at his confessing attraction to a servant, but she did keep his feet rooted on the ground. “Be careful there. I can only imagine what the family would say about a dalliance with a maid.”

She was right, of course. If his family were to find out and reproach him, it would be easy enough to terminate a frolic that was just for the fun of it all. And yet, as he quested through his feelings, the odd sensation in his chest affirmed that he could not walk away from Sophie so easily. He was approaching something. Something he knew the name of but could not yet admit, not even to himself. But he knew it would rise to the surface soon enough.

“I don’t know if it’s a dalliance, El.”

“What?”

He twisted his fingers as he sought for the words. “A part of me feels…I don’t know. Happier than I have felt in years.”

Eloise was quiet for a moment and then bluntly asked him the question he could not pose to himself. “You’re finally ready to give up on your lady in silver, then? For a servant?”

Her shimmering image rose in his mind, smiling coyly. He’d spent the last two years with one eye on every door, always waiting for her to enter the room. He felt silly sometimes, even stupid, but he’d never been able to erase her from his thoughts. Or purge the dream - the one in which he pledged his troth to her, and they lived happily ever after. It was a silly fantasy for a man of his reputation, sickly sweet and sentimental, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. That’s what came from growing up in a large and loving family - one tended to want the same for oneself. But the woman from the masquerade had become barely more than a mirage. Hell, he didn’t even know her name. 

“Maybe,” he exhaled, feeling a barrier begin to crumble. “She is at least here. I can see her and talk to her and I know who she is. But I also know what a scandal it would all cause.”

Then he tried to envision a future with Sophie. A life with her would be different from the picture of familial bliss he had imagined, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t forge their own kind of happiness. He couldn’t marry her, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be together. It would mean compromise, but they could do it. And they’d certainly be happier than if they remained apart.

“So what are you going to do?” Eloise asked.

Benedict’s eyes darted over the horizon, dozens of possibilities tumbling through his mind. Anxious, joyful, heartbreaking, ecstatic.

“I don’t know yet.”

His sister rested a hand on his shoulder and gave him a light squeeze before she stood, dropped her cigarette and stubbed it out with her toe. She brushed off her dress and smoothed her hair, then looked down at him. 

“A word of advice. Don’t fear what others may think. When you find someone, whoever that person is and wherever they come from, if you feel drawn to them, hold onto that feeling. Nurture it. You are a man, and I dare say it would be easier for you to get away with than me. So do it. Live your life and don’t give a damn about society.” 

Then the fire drained from her voice as it became shaky with emotion. “It’s something I wish I had done long ago.”

Turning on her heel, she pulled herself back into the house through the open window and left Benedict alone in the night air, contending with his thoughts.

Marching back through the halls, Eloise wiped a tear from her cheek as her mind replayed her own flirtation with a different life. One that would have been harder, but also simpler than the one she was born into. A life of action and activism. A life of work but fulfillment. A life as the wife of a printer, filled with literature and love.

Any chance at that life had been dashed not only by her own fear of pursuing it, but by the acid pen of Lady Whistledown who had exposed her unchaperoned excursions and scandalized her family. That had been the hammerblow of certainty that if a young lady were to step one toe out of line from society’s expectations, woe would befall her. So ever since, Eloise had done her best to content herself within her gilded cage, waiting for the day when she would either be old enough to break free without censure or meet the man who miraculously defied her abysmal appraisal of his sex.

This was her destiny, one that must find her. But with Benedict able to navigate society more freely due both to his charismatic nature and his gender, surely he had a much greater chance of defining destiny on his terms. She would never forget how dejected he had been after the masquerade ball where he alleged to have met the love of his life. As he quested for her in the months that followed, Eloise watched the light of humor and charm that she so loved in him grow dimmer and dimmer until it almost seemed extinguished. But in recent days it had undeniably returned and she felt as if she had the old Benedict back. If Sophie was the cause of this change, then she would do everything in her power to support their secret romance.

Stopping in front of a mirror she dabbed her eyes, set her resolve, and returned to the ballroom.

“Kate!” 

The Viscountess stood near a throng of mamas, graciously accepting their compliments for the hostess. Wrapped in a shimmering sari of ombre blue and purple, she matched both the colors and grandeur of the decor perfectly. 

“Are you enjoying the evening, Eloise?” She smiled as she turned to her sister-in-law.

Adopting a cheery tone, the younger exaggerated a smile. “Oh yes, my dance card is full.” She shook the card on her wrist rapidly, trying to obscure the fact that she herself had penciled in all the names, including Robert Burns and George Washington. Clasping her hands behind her back, she continued. 

“I’ve met so, so many wonderful bachelors tonight, thank you. I am here to ask you a favor.”

“Yes?”

“My temporary lady’s maid, Miss Sophie Beckett. I have grown quite fond of her and she is very skilled, as you can see.” She pointed proudly to her bejeweled coiffure. “Can I ask that she accompany us back to London? I know that the other maid will return, but she can take care of Francesca and Hyacinth.”

The Viscountess balked, stunned to hear Eloise express any praise for a lady’s maid, let alone the request to retain one permanently. Her sister-in-law was single-handedly the cause of the majority of staff turnover for the Bridgerton household. Whatever magic Sophie Beckett possessed, she was now determined to secure it for as long as possible. 

“If you both desire it, yes, we can take her on in London.”

Eloise beamed with excitement. “Thank you!”

Returning her smile, Kate wondered how far she could push her luck. “Now, would you like to meet Lord Gloucester? He is…”

“No!” Eloise nearly leapt away from her like a cornered animal. “Sorry, I’m incredibly parched. I must get a glass of lemonade.” Waving her off, she nodded her thanks once again and then disappeared into the crowd.

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