#THEY LIKED DRAWING AND DOING EVERYTHING TOGETHER

[hoshinasblade]

second best | hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2

DISCLAIMER: this fic has a detail that hasn't been mentioned in the anime yet. it isn't a big give-away but if you are sensitive about that kind of thing, please do not proceed. pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 3K trigger warnings: author's note: this fic has two parts - part 2 will be posted a week from today :) likes, replies, and reblogs are always appreciated but please do not repost or steal my writings. this is quite long, but i gotta make you guys work for it. i have also set up a taglist for the second part and the other fics or drabbles, please sign up if you wanna be tagged! as always, feel free to let me know what you think or give me a prompt by sending me an ask here!

hoshina soshiro can claim with extreme conviction that he rarely regrets the decisions he has made so far in his life.

from the time he has set his sights on taking the aptitude exam necessary to be recruited in the anti-kaiju defense force, to following captain ashiro mina to support her as the vice-captain of the third division, to religiously adhering to his daily routine of working out even during his off days so he can stay in peak condition - everything he's done is driven by soshiro's lone motivation: to rise and come on top.  

unfortunately, as he sees you walking in the hallway of the training building with his brother, soshiro realises that this is one of those rare occurrences where he hopes he gets a do-over.

it was barely 6 in the afternoon so there was still light from outside; the rays of the setting sun penetrating the transparent windowpanes cast an orange glow to the furniture in soshiro's office. it made him remember how he used to always be assigned as the student to clean the classroom back in junior high school: he would sweep first then rearrange the chairs before closing the windows and drawing down the curtains. he would rush up to the rooftop, in time to watch the sun dip below the horizon. he would stay for a few precious minutes, dreaming of a chance to get out of their town. he was fifteen then.

soshiro shook his head a bit. he decided that today - of all days - will not be when he will have a trip down memory lane. yes, despite the number of times he would get reminded of his past today, he refuses to get sidetracked.

the floor is eerily silent, save for the momentary opening and closing of doors; soshiro is aware that almost everyone has left, flocking to the local izakaya not too far from the base to celebrate. he had half the mind to prompt himself to hurry up in order to make it to the get-together on time. the long and gruelling application process took three months before the vetting could begin, but finally, the third division of japan anti-kaiju defense force honoured its new officers that morning. as the nominated head of the selection committee, he oversaw the entire thing, and at the end, he could not help but to feel confident that their force would become stronger from here - this year their roster of applicants boasts high-profile names like that of the very daughter of jakdf's director general and the young master of the prestigious izumo family.

okonogi, sitting in front of him at his office, was sorting the personal forms of the recruits, a big stapler in her right hand. "i can take care of this, vice-captain", she said to him, "they cannot miss you there."

soshiro smupled to his swivel chair, obviously fatigued by the task he and okonogi had been trying to finish for half an hour already. fighting and defeating kaiju is the main part of the job, but handling the paperwork proves to be as challenging. "right, make sure the headquarters get this by the morning along with the report of all their numbers -" the sound of footsteps nearby interrupted soshiro's train of thought.

there were three loud knocks and the door opened, a man with the same eyes as soshiro peeping inside. even okonogi glanced over her shoulder to identify who the intruder is. soshiro stood up.

"just wanted ta drop by before i head back ta himeji", hoshina soichiro's undeniable accent dripped. spotting the huge pile of forms littering the desk, he commented, "seems like ya are a little preoccupied though."

"hoshina fuku taichou, good evening." your voice was firm yet jovial as you greeted him, the kansai inflection rolling off your tongue. you appeared beside soshiro's brother, still wearing the same standard-issue uniform you wore during the event several hours ago when you were sworn in as a new defense force officer. the outfit is snug on you - soshiro had noticed at the ceremony earlier, but up close the top looked almost skintight, the skirt coming up a little above your knees. soshiro can be a high-ranking official within the force, but he is also a man. if only briefly, he stared. "aren't ya going ta the party?"

taken aback that you would drop by his office, it was out of his mouth too fast he couldn't stop it - "how about ya? what are you still doing here with him?" soshiro responded pointedly at you, throwing you the same query but not answering what you asked him. it was too late to take it back; he sounded like he was interrogating you about your presence with the captain of the sixth division. soichiro winced; soshiro pretended not to see. "i- i was just thinking ya went with the officers on the way there", he added, calmer this time.

"oh, i was just catching up with hoshina-kun", you replied without missing a beat. soshiro doesn't know if the accidental force in his question just seconds prior did not intimidate you at all or you simply ignored his tone. "i mean with soichiro-kun. considering ya are hoshina too", you chuckled. soshiro stole a glance at the man at your side while maintaining an empty expression. he found his brother smirking at him; soshiro willed himself not to picture soichiro as an ugly kaiju with a butt for a face.

okonogi who is now attentively eavesdropping on your conversation caught your attention. "pardon for the bother, hoshina-san. we'll be off now."

for an instant, it looked like you were waiting for soshiro to say something in response. to say what, he doesn't know. the eye contact between you and him held up for a moment but broke as quick as it began. tension prickled in the air briefly then ebbed as you turned away from soshiro. "i'll see ya at the party, vice-captain", you gave him a bow before exiting the room. soshiro wanted to stop you; he didn't.

soichiro sighed. "it was nice seeing ya, 'lil bro", he addressed soshiro, his hand patting the latter's shoulder once, twice. "i have paperwork ta worry about too so as much as i'd like to, i won't be able ta attend your division's party. just in case ya want ta know." soshiro didn't look like he had a crumb of interest to know about his brother's occupational responsibilities; he shrugged soichiro's hand off.

soshiro saw you standing outside, leaning on the wall, when he ushered his brother out. "i'll be driving her to the izakaya though", soichiro informed him. "ya should visit our folks when ya have the time. ya should come home sometimes", soichiro continued, a hint of concern evident in his voice. when soshiro did not respond, surprisingly the older hoshina did not look a tiny bit disappointed. instead, soichiro put on a charming smile and waved at okonogi. "okonogi-chan, see ya around!" he tossed a playful wink at her.

soshiro merely watched as you and soichiro walked together, your pace matching his. a few meters away, he saw you listening intently to something soichiro was saying - he is too close - and although he is not within earshot to hear what is being said anymore, he knows it is another one of his brother's bad jokes. it looks like you were trying to suppress it, but a smile was about to dawn on your lips. soshiro felt sick to his stomach all of a sudden.

the party was already in full swing when soshiro arrived - everyone is hungrily feasting on the expensive wagyu beef, drinks flowing endlessly from the bar. everyone is enjoying themselves; even captain ashiro mina can be seen having small talk with the newly sworn-in officers who were eagerly taking notes from her.

you had easily made friends with the other rookies who are now sitting next to you; it was thanks to your group that this event was planned - after enduring long sessions of strenuous physical training every day of every week, you all deserved a night of everyone just gathering to have a good time. soshiro seems to be exempt from the festive atmosphere though.

he picked the seat next to his captain, who greeted him with a curt nod. he proceeded to grab the mug of beer served to him; the first sip registered a sharp bitterness through his mouth but soshiro relished on the flavor as it overtook his senses.

"everything alright?" captain ashiro from his side asked without lifting her gaze from her own drink. "you are being -" she paused, carefully searching to find the right words, “uncharacteristically quiet.”

soshiro picked the glass of beer again, and when he was about to put the lid on his lips, he could sense someone’s intense stare locked on him. years of being the vice-captain gifted him with equal parts instinct and paranoia so he could not help but scan the room, only to find you, sitting across the room, watching him with a curious expression.

a rowdy group of rookies surrounds you; they are high-fiving each other, laughing at their silly pranks, not minding that all of you are squeezed together at a crowded circle. soft music in the background swelled as everyone cheered and clinked glasses.

soshiro's eyes remained fixed on yours, lasting for what he felt like forever. the buzz of chatter dulled to a distant hum, fading into an almost white noise. his heart raced as he felt his breath catch and his mouth go dry. the corner of your lips curved into a smile and maybe it is the alcohol in his system, but he is certain his cheeks are flushed now.

"huh", captain ashiro lowly exclaimed. soshiro quickly snapped a glance at her. "you talked to her yet?" she asked him. ah, she caught his little moment with you.

soshiro was on the verge of playing it cool and putting on an act; he was about to outright lie to his captain by saying "talk to who?" as if he had no idea what she was referring to. he settled with silence. he was grateful his non-response only earned him a sigh from the captain who did not press the topic any further.

 "to you newbies, congratulations!" captain ashiro raised her glass, still half-filled with alcohol. her voice rang out over the place, everyone's conversations immediately falling quiet. "may the third division always be victorious in our battles to come", she recapped her speech.

the party showed no signs of slowing down. hibino kafka, a recruit in his thirties has been the centre of intrigue that has spanned for weeks now. hibino ossan - as what the others nicknamed him - had revealed in a bathroom conversation with other male rookies that he grew up with captain ashiro. ashiro mina likes dried squid; ashiro mina used to raise pets in grade school - everyone consumed any and every tidbit of trivia hibino disclosed about the usually stoic and serious third division commander. soshiro was among those invested in the rumor and you knew why. for a while, you also wondered how he would react once the rest of the troops learned about your own past with their vice-captain. would he deny it? or would he brush off any potential gossip that may arise from the revelation? if everyone discovered your shared history with hoshina soshiro, would it make him want to reconnect with you?

“you lot will start duty monday next week, but tomorrow will just be another workday for vice-captain hoshina and i”, captain ashiro said, having stood up from her seat, preparing to take off. “no, you can stay”, she said to some of the newbies who have started to get up too.

“nah, captain, why don’t we bring them along to help us file all the tedious paperwork?”, soshiro interjected in his familiar upbeat tone. the crew bursted into snickers; captain ashiro gave soshiro a perplexed look, obviously puzzled about the sudden shift in his mood. testing her theory, she looked at your direction.

captain ashiro couldn't make out why, but you were giggling at whatever your seatmate had said, elegant hand covering your mouth, eyes crinkled. she understood soshiro then - she was not foreign to feeling uneasy inside when she sees someone so physically near someone she cares about after all. "let's go, hoshina", she tucked her pity for the vice-captain away.

"do you guys think they are dating?" a particularly tactless rookie sitting at your table had asked immediately after captain ashiro and hoshina were out the sliding doors.

"i bet they're not", you blurted out a little too soon, a little too sure. you did not mind clipping your accent, your kansai-ben thick and heavy. your fellow officers looked at you, expecting an explanation for your outburst. "i mean -" you stuttered, "that would be awkward, i guess."

"you know to think of it, you're from himeji too, right?" a few more recruits have started to listen in on the exchange. these people can smell the truth off me, you thought. you wanted to smack yourself in the face.

"we went ta the same high school together, that's all", you admitted, feeling backed in a corner. tomorrow when you get questioned for this imprudent behavior, you can probably blame it all on the alcohol. "and grade school", you continued, loose-lipped now.

you still liked wearing pink bows in your hair when you met him. an only child of kind parents, you never experienced having to ask for something you like; you were doted on and spoiled so you were reasonably upset when a young hoshina soshiro did not give you the time of his day. your family has just moved to hyogo shortly before that, and you were anxious to make friends; since your early age, you had made it your mission to make soshiro acknowledge you.

"you dun wanna play with me, because ya are stupid", you told soshiro-kun once. "oka-san said all boys are stupid", you had the nerve to elaborate after he pouted at you, his unkempt bangs sticking on his sweaty forehead, his clothes dirty from training all day.

"yer pretty", he responded and you felt the blush crept up on your cheeks. "pretty annoying."

"come on, spill some tea!" someone's palm connected with the table, jolting you out of your trance. "we have another hibino-senpai situation on our hands!" they declared, grabbing you by the arm and shaking you a bit. if it was meant to encourage you to tell more childhood tales between you and the vice-captain, it worked really, really well.

"he's always had that haircut even as a kid", you said, misinterpreting the kind of story your companions wanted you to tell, judging by their disappointed looks. “i- i don’t know what else to tell you guys”, you held up your hand in surrender.

“do you have a crush on him?” you choked on your drink, caught off guard.

vexed at his absent-mindedness, soshiro was walking back to the izakaya place alone when he heard the commotion. he is going straight to bed once he gets back to the base, but he would have to retrieve his uniform jacket first from his seat earlier.

“you totally do, don’t you!” it stopped sounding like a question and more of an accusation you could not deny. “you like hoshina-san!”

“i -i do, yes... but what of it, huh?" he couldn’t see you but he would recognize the soft timbre of your voice anywhere. soshiro felt like a victorian gentleman getting a glimpse of a woman’s ankle for the first time listening in on the uproar of cheers after your confession.

“the three of us attended the same high school, soichiro-kun was a grade ahead”, you said. soshiro froze. you are talking about his brother. “he has always been good at everything, t'was hard not ta like him.”

soshiro closed his eyes, attempting to steady his breathing. he always had his suspicions - for the ceremony earlier his brother even took a day off his busy schedule as the commander of the sixth division to attend as a guest. he should have known.

last year, soshiro’s squad fought a lizard-type kaiju with a fortitude of above 8. like the reptile, a cut made on any of its limbs was useless due to advanced regeneration. a fractured rib, extremely bruised arms, and a dislocated shoulder were what it costed soshiro to win against the monster. his bitterness threatening to consume him, he cannot believe that you confirming his worst fears would hurt more than that fatal experience.

of course, he said to himself. it’s not like he can fault you for liking soichiro - everyone did. as the firstborn son, their father always had favored him. soichiro has been the more skilled swordsman between them; he was the golden child, charismatic and talented with an effortless charm - like moths to a flame he would attract people, and even in his silence he would overshadow soshiro.

soshiro didn’t stand a chance against his own flesh and blood.

he was a teenager when he dreamed of running away from the constant but inevitable competition he had with his brother. scouted for the third division, he relished on the freedom. but how do you escape the reality of the one you love loving the one person you could never measure up to?

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

toji teasing you with his dick/strap sucking skills.

he sits you down at the end of the bed while taking his place in front of you, his leg between your thighs. his navel is right at your eye-level and your mouth salivates. even though he's fully dressed, you can see his pants straining – he's so fucking hard and you just want to feel him. you want to push his shirt up, you want to drag your tongue over his happy trail, you want to listen to him hold back his little gasps and groans. teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you eagerly reach for his belt buckle but a hand on your jaw stops you.

"ya want it?"

gently, he guides your head up, forcing you to look at him in the eye. staring down at you, he does try to hold back a groan – you already look so fucked out and he hasn't even done anything. you nod at him, eyes blown wide and lips swollen from you biting down on them so hard.

toji's thumb draws a lazy circle over your cheek. "well, aren't ya sweet, hm?"

when he feels your hands trailing over his clothed muscles, your fingers digging into the material of his pants, he presses his thigh flush against your center, humming lowly as he watches your eyes fall shut at the contact.

"not today, though."

a small whine slips from your lips when you rest back on your hands, head dangling from your shoulders; perfectly displaying your neck and the few remaining marks from the nights from before. toji's eyes travel down from your throat and over your covered chest – of course, you're wearing one of his shirts. your collarbones peek from under the collar and a light sheen of sweat is already beginning to form all over your skin. toji licks his lips at the thought of running his tongue over the slopes of your body.

he puts some more pressure against the bulge in your own pants and watches your chest rise and fall with deep sharp breaths. "toji..."

he wants to ruin you so badly. he will never get sick of you saying his name like that, like a prayer, like a mantra – he's ready to give you all of him in return.

"look at ya..." he rumbles, his thigh slowly rocking back and forth against you. "s'desperate."

you can't stay still - your hips rolling against him, humping his leg like you're in heat but it's still not enough. "please..."

his low chuckle makes you loll your head forward. he looks sexy; standing tall between your legs, hair messy after a long day and a proud, hungry smile playing on his scarred lips.

"what do ya want, hm?"

"anything." he laughs at your needy answer, his chest rumbling like thunder as he nudges your thighs wider, fitting himself in the middle of them. he kneels down, so he's face level and you immediately push throw yourself over him. your hands snake around his neck, lips brushing over his. "everything...."

one of his own hands grabs at your waist, pulling you indefinitely closer while the other kneads your thigh. every time you try to kiss him, he pulls away just an inch; your breaths mingle together, lips grazing as his cologne fills your nostrils and his touch sets you ablaze. the need for him is growing and it's growing fast, the knot in your stomach tightening with every passing second.

"greedy little thing..." he whispers with a teasing tone and you nose at his cheek. your fingers play with the longer hair on the nape of his neck, combing through the locks, pushing his head closer to yours.

"please, toji..."

you feel him smirk against your cheek before he sits back on his legs.

"ya sound so cute like this." toji rests his elbows on your thighs, fingers tracing over the material of his shirt, over your abdomen and hips, until he reaches your waistband. "please, please, please..."

heat crawls on your body at his mocking, head dizzy from his touch. you don't have it in you to bark back at him, completely at his mercy – ready to take whatever he offers you.

he unbuttons your pants and taps on your thigh, telling you to stand up. and when you do, toji's nose brushes over your clothed belly button, making you buck into his face on instinct. your hands rest in his hair as he helps you out of the pants and underwear before letting you sit back down onto the bed.

you need him to touch you so badly that it's starting to hurt. your eyebrows furrow and you want to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the pain but the man in the middle stops you from doing that. he's just staring at you; taking you in – all of your little twitches, your hazy eyes, your heaving chest. oh, he's loving this.

"you're being so mean..."

he laughs. and you want to choke him. but before you can do that, or anything else for that matter – he leans forward, pressing a very faint kiss to your hip – so close and yet, so far from where you really need him. you mewl out and he pinches your waist. he's so close that his own abdomen is rubbing against your core and it's getting harder and harder to focus. you tug on his hair when he bites down into your soft flesh and pulls back with a mean grin. "yer so impatient..."

he grabs at the hem of your shirt and you raise your arms, letting him pull it off of your body. the scar on his lips finds the sensitive skin right below your jaw as he starts covering you in wet, open-mouthed kisses. he trails down from there, briefly licking and sucking your nipples, making your back arch up into him. he bites down to leave proud teethmarks on your skin as his big hands rest on your waist, kneading the soft flesh while you melt into him.

as he's getting closer and closer to where you actually need him, his hand slips from its place on your hip and you gasp when he starts rubbing at your inner thigh instead. with half-lidded eyes, you watch him lower himself back onto his legs and you buck into his hand again – your body has a mind of its own, you cannot think clearly anymore.

"this s'where you want me, yeah?"

his fingers trace around your crotch and you think you're going to explode from all of his teasing. hastily nodding, you beg with your eyes for him to finally touch you, to really touch you. he looks straight at you, flashing you a toothy smirk before cupping your balls, making your jaw fall slack. "soooo sensitive."

the eye-contact is making everything a thousand times better (worse) – his eyes bore into yours and it feels like he's planning on eating you alive.

"c'mon, gimme a kiss, sweetheart."

he doesn't need to say it twice because you're already lunging forward, pressing your mouth to his. he groans when you nip at his bottom lip – you want more, you need more. and he lets you have it.

your tongues dance together, swapping saliva like it's something you're supposed to do, all while his hand never stops massaging your sensitive skin. he's so warm and it feels so good and you want to forge the two of you together forever. you let your own hand slip between your bodies, desperately trying to guide him to your aching cock but he just grins into the kiss.

when you huff in disappointment and decide to wrap your own hand around yourself, he grabs your wrist and holds it down beside you. he presses another kiss to your lips and when he pulls away, a clear string of saliva keeps you connected.

he brings his free hand to your mouth and nods toward it. "spit."

toji lets out a hum as he watches it drip from your already wet lips and he twitches in his pants. without ever taking your eyes from you, he finally wraps his big fingers around your cock and devours the moan you reward him with.

your gaze flicks down to his hand, watching it slide up and down, the slick sound filling the room along with your quiet little whimpers and groans. every time he reaches the tip, he twists his wrist and tightens his fist, making you screw your eyes shut from the sensation. "ahh– fuck..."

"tell me how it feels."

"good, so fucking good. please– please, don't fucking stop." you stammer out. the words all slur together, the pleasure taking over your whole body. sweat dribbles from your temple and your fingers dig into the bedsheets under you.

you crack your eyes open just at the right time – when his pretty lips part and envelop the tip of your rock hard cock. he hums around you and you dig your fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots as a thank you. it's overwhelming – to let him take care of you like this. it feels special in a way, he doesn't do this with everyone.

he wants to make you feel good, he wants to show you his love.

he doesn't take his hand from you, keeping a firm grip on your base as he sucks on the tip. spit dribbles from the corners of his lips and he doesn't even try to hold it back – the messier the better. he pulls of with a little pop but dives right back in to drag his tongue all the way up from your balls. he does it a few times before getting sick of you trying to push his head closer to yourself (wonder who'd you learn that from).

taking your hands, he holds them against the bed. "no touching."

"bu- "

"touch me again and i'll stop."

his heart does a little flip in his chest at your little dumbfounded look – eyes wide and brows furrowed, hips twitching at the loss of contact.

"kiss me."

it's comes out like a demand and your own breath hitches, scared that he'll pull away completely now, but... he doesn't.

"ya want another kiss, hm? ya wanna taste yourself, is that it?"

the knot in your stomach tightens at his words and dumbly blink down at him, nodding your head. "yes, please..."

while still holding your hands to the bed, he lets you inch closer and press your swollen lips to his. a moan bubbles up from your throat and he swallows it with pride. toji pumps your cock with a steady pace, squeezing his fist every time he reaches the base. you taste so fucking good. and he tries to ignore the mess he's making in his pants purely from the act of getting you off. pre-cum stains the material of his boxers and he keeps twitching at every little sound you make.

this must be love, hm?

[spicygrilledscorpio]

Cat got her tongue - LN

Summary: Y/n is in heat and is too shy to ask for Lando’s help. While her lovely boyfriend decided to be a tease.

Warnings: SMUT, horny!shy!reader, teaser!Lando, fingering (f!receiving), pet names, penetrative sex, unprotected (don’t do that), orgasm denial (i think that’s it lemme know if missed any)

Notes: My first fic hit 1k i’m so happy, thank you for you guys support. Also still English is not my first language so sorry if anything sounds weird. Hopes you guys enjoy 💗

_________________________________________________

Y/n is probably the shyest person Lando ever met, and that’s also his favorite thing about her. However surprisingly, Y/n and Lando have a very high sex drive. Because of y/n’s shyness, she never says no to Lando, but he always makes sure she’s ok with it of course.

However, today was another case. They were chilling on the sofa in Lando’s apartment. Her boyfriend was sitting on the ground playing Fifa while she was lying on the sofa reading her new book. Everything was going alright, Y/n managed to focus and successfully finish 2 chapters until she reached the “spicy part” of the book.

“With a groan, he pushes into her while she gasps out loud, adjusting to his size…”

Y/n’s face starts burning as she squeezes her thighs together as she looks down at her boyfriend. As much as y/n wants to ask Lando, which she knows he will be willing to help her, she’s too shy. Normally, y/n never has to ask for an orgasm, she’s actually getting too much of it. Lando’s friends tease him saying that they’re like bunnies, always on top of each other. However, in this particular situation, she needs him. Y/n tries to shift her attention back to the book, but the words just fly through her head and she can’t help but imagine Lando on top of her. Y/n’s whole body was on fire and her face practically looked like a tomato and ready to explode at any given moment.

“Lan-” Y/n can’t help but call out for his help

“Hm?” Lando asks, eyes still glued to the screen

Y/n sat up and looked at him but didn’t reply

“What’s wrong baby?” Lando turns around to look at her red face

Y/n still doesn’t reply but looks at him with teary puppy eyes, hoping he’ll get it and help her out. Lando did indeed figure out what’s going on with his girlfriend but instead of helping her out, he decided to be a tease

“Can’t help you if you don’t tell me, hm?” He questions in a teasing tone, moving up to join her on the couch, face only inches away from hers. His hands were on her hip as he guided her to straddle him. Y/n had her arms wrapped around Lando’s shoulder as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, still struggling to get her words out because of her shyness and the overwhelming feeling of needing to be satisfied. Hip grinding down onto his crotch letting out some quiet whimpers.

“Use your words, princess,” Lando said in a stern voice, whispering in her ears.

“Need you” Y/n can’t help but let out a small whimper, given she’s almost half naked, only wearing panties and Lando’s sweater, sitting on her fully clothed boyfriend.

“At least use your manners, god,” Lando says mockingly. Watching her cute face getting flushed everytime she gets shy, Lando just can’t stop teasing his beloved girlfriend. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please?” She mumbled into his neck

“God, you’re so fucking cute” Lando chuckled. Their hands moved down to take off her panties. His fingers start going up and down her folds, collecting your wetness. “You’re soaked”

Y/n’s face gets even redder, looking like a chili at this point. She hates it when he says things like that, just because it makes her even more embarrassed than before, which is also why he loves dirty talk, he loves seeing her crumble for him. Lando’s fingers start rubbing her clit in a circular motion, drawing soft moans from her.

“I-I’m close” Y/n moans as Lando inserts two fingers inside of of her. Thrusting in and out at a brutal speed, he starts scissoring her, touching her G-spot in every thrust. But just when she was about to cum, he took his fingers out. She finally removed her face from his neck just to look at him in confusion.

“Not yet”

“I want you to ride me” Lando whispers in her ears, sending shivers down her spine. Y/n frowns and pouts looking at him, not happy from being denied her orgasm and being demanded to ride her boyfriend. Well, not that she had a problem with it, just that she is shy, and she’s pretty much a “pillow princess”, and Lando loves her since he prefers being on top anyways. However, since he’s in the mood for teasing her to her breaking point, Lando makes her ride him.

“That’s the only way you’re getting off, princess” Lando states looking at your pouting face, extremely unsatisfied with her boyfriend.

Y/n shuffles to unzip his pants and pull down his boxer, revealing his hard member, now leaking precum. She lowers herself slowly, having a hard time adjusting to his size. After taking in all of him, Y/n starts bouncing on his cock. She tries biting her lips to muffle her moans, throwing a tantrum since she’s still not happy from her orgasm denial earlier. However, her intentions fail miserably, as Lando's hands sneak down to stimulate her clit and she can’t help but let out a loud moan. His mouth covered her nipple and start sucking it, adding to the pleasure.

Y/n’s legs were shaking from the overstimulation and her speed slowed down. She can barely ride him at this point and just grinds on him, but it wasn’t enough. She knows she needs his help, but still finds it hard to speak up.

“All you have to is ask, bunny,” Lando said as he saw her slowing down

“Please,” Y/n says with tears welling in her eyes, on the brink of rolling down.

Lando holds her hips and starts moving her up and down on him, combined with his thrusts upward, he’s hitting all the right spots. The sounds of their skins slapping together with wet sounds of her arousal and his precum filling the room. Y/n’s pretty sure that their sofa is ruined for good but that’s not their focus right now.

“Lan I’m cumming” The overwhelming feeling took over her, pushing her to the edge.

“Cum for me princess”

Y/n squeezes her eyes shut as she’s about to cum “Eyes on me baby” Lando demands, always loving to see her face when she’s falling apart for him. Y/n keeps eye contact with him while she cums, just the way he likes it, and lets out a loud squeal, milking him as he spills inside her. Lando lays her down on the couch as he pulls out of her, parting her legs and staring at his cum leaking out of her hole. Lando takes his phone takes a picture and puts it in his hidden album.

“Do you have to stare?” Y/n asks, squeezing her thighs together to hide it.

Lando just chuckled and went to get a towel to clean her up.

“I love you so much, even though sometimes i think cat got your tongues, you’re so cute”

[sxcret-garden]

ღ Ateez Yunho x gn!reader ღ words: ~1k ღ genre: smut (sub!Yunho, he's blindfolded, temperature play (ice cubes), nipple play, oral, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (all idol receiving), dacryphilia) ღ reader: no description of reader’s anatomy, no pronouns used to refer to reader ღ warnings: none ღ prompt: “I can’t get enough of you.”

Author’s note: Idkkkk I just love the concept of letting service dom!Yunho lean back while you take care of him and repay him for all the times he’s done the same for you,,, and subsequently having him become a moaning, shaking mess underneath you,,,,,,,

Your boyfriend lets out a breathy moan at the cold sensation of the ice cube against his skin. Holding it between your lips, you drag it from his sternum all the way up to his throat, making him throw back his head instinctively to give you access, and then once you lift it off his skin, he lets out a shaky sigh. You cup his face with one hand, thumb brushing against his cheek and the silky fabric of the blindfold, placing the ice into your other hand, before you lean in for a kiss. His lips feel hot against yours for a moment, until you’ve adjusted to the temperature difference, and while you kiss him at an unhurried pace you don’t hesitate to part his lips with your tongue to lead him into an open mouthed kiss. He lets you take control as his hands find your hips on top of him, loosely holding onto them.

“I’ll take care of you today,” you mutter once you part. It’s been a while since you’ve last done this, switched roles, made him sprawl out on the bed for you to have your way with him - but oh, how you missed this. Of course you like it when he’s in control, doing everything in his might to make you feel nothing short of amazing. But sometimes the urge to give all of that back overcomes you, and in times like these you always find yourself baffled at how much more badly you could need him.

You roll your hips on top of him once, a teasing gesture, and yet - the deprivation of one of his senses heightens all others, and you don’t fail to draw another of those pretty moans from his lips.

“Shit, Yun… I can’t get enough of you.” It’s merely a whisper as you lean back in, pressing another impatient kiss against the corner of his mouth, and then you take the ice cube between your lips again, letting a drop of the cold water fall onto his chest. Mesmerized by the goose bumps forming on his skin and his nipples hardening without you needing to touch them, you eventually lean back in to take one of them into your mouth. The mixture of the cold ice and your hot tongue swirling around the sensitive bud has him arching his back underneath him, and the way he reacts so strongly has you moaning while you continue your ministrations. You move on eventually, scattering ice cold kisses down his stomach, leaving the remainder of the ice cube behind on his navel for it to melt there. Your hand finds Yunho’s cock, grown to its full size now, and you find yourself amused by how affected he is once again. Starting to give him a few slow strokes, you lick up the droplets of water running down his skin, and then you position yourself in between his thighs, aching to please him even more.

“You good, baby?” you ask, running your nails down the inside of his thigh, your lips hovering just above his tip.

“Y-yeah,” he gives you a strained answer, desperation in his voice and you grin to yourself.

“Gonna make you feel even better…” you say, before you press a kiss to his head and even at such a tiny gesture you can feel him shiver underneath you. “Fuck, you’re so sensitive, Yun…” Very slowly, you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, and when you finally reach the tip, you wrap your lips around it. Your boyfriend lets you hear a whine, one that you assume wasn’t supposed to slip out, as he immediately presses his lips tightly together, but you can’t help but want more of it. “Let me hear you, baby,” you say. “Sounds so pretty…” And as soon as you take him into your mouth, sinking down on him as you hollow your cheeks until you have as much of him inside of you as you can take, yet another of those sinful whines bursts out of him. His breathing heavy and his thighs attempting to close around your frame, he moans at your touches. You go at exactly the pace you know he likes the most, doing all the things that will be sure to drive him crazy in no time, and when you begin to moan in tune with him, a curse escapes him.

“Shit, Y/N… g-gonna cum…” His fingers grappling at the bedsheets until his knuckles turn white, you keep your pace steady, until finally you can feel his warm seed spilling into your mouth and you swallow without hesitation. Leaving not a drop of his cum behind, you sit up eventually, and before he can fully come down from his high, you continue stroking him until you can feel him getting hard again. “Sh-shit…” Yunho tries to hold back any more of those desperate whines as he bites his bottom lip, but it’s no use. You watch your boyfriend squirming underneath you, sometimes instinctively bucking his hips into your hand while he mewls at the overstimulation. His ears bright red and his muscles working underneath the skin in futile attempts to balance out the overwhelm - and still he doesn’t tell you to stop. Instead, there’s soon broken moans falling from his lips, your hand that’s moving up and down his pulsating cock picking up in speed, and the way he cries out as he cums again could’ve sent you over the edge as well.

“You did so well, baby,” you coo at him once you finally let him rest, hovering above him as you leave a trail of soothing kisses up his chest, and when you take off his blindfold, you can see the tears in the corner of his eyes. Running your fingers through his hair, you press a kiss to his temple, to his nose, and finally to his lips. “So, so well.”

[jmdbjk]

The Drama. It's Jimin.

We don't know yet how Jimin will tie together that sheet of music La Lettra (The Letter), containing the music of The Truth Untold and the Legend of the Smeraldo flower in this album but he's named the album MUSE.

The Truth Untold lyrics

You know that I can’t Show you ME Give you ME I can’t show you my miserable self, so, yet again, I wear a mask and go to meet you But I still want you

A flower that looks like you bloomed in the garden of loneliness I wanted to give it to you after taking off this silly mask But I know that I can’t never ever do so

And the story it is based on, The legend of 'Smeraldo' about a flower created just for the girl the man couldn't reveal himself to.

Here is an excerpt from this link:

The man wanted to help the girl. He wanted to teach her every method of growing flowers he knew, he wanted to teach her how to grow beautiful flowers. But he couldn’t come forward to the girl. She would be scared of him, she wouldn’t love his grotesque appearance. In the end, the only thing he could do was to grow and take care of the flowers so she could keep coming to his garden.

The vibe of The Truth Untold is yearning, desperation, unfulfilled and unrequited love due to one's own inner turmoil holding them back.

The gist of the Legend of the Smeraldo is that you cannot remain withdrawn if you are to achieve the thing you desire most. If you wait too long it will be too late. You must overcome the negative perceptions of yourself in order to reach for the thing you desire.

"Muse" can mean what Jimin is to others and what Army is to Jimin, but Jimin's muse is most likely an element of his inner persona that he keeps to himself, that he draws on for his creativity.

It could also be the stage, the desire to visually express his creativity. I have heard music artists claim their muse or mistress is the stage, they cannot stay away from it, their passion, their obsession, their life's blood and breath to the point everything else is secondary.

The definition for the word muse is:

a person or personified force who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist.

Muse is also related to Greek mythology. From wikipedia:

The Muses are the inspirational goddesses of literature, science, and the arts. They were considered the source of the knowledge embodied in the poetry, lyric songs, and myths that were related orally for centuries in ancient Greek culture.

Where have we seen this inspiration before in Jimin's creativity? I wrote about his Artemis/Apollo concept for his photo folio here.

I know too often Jimin is reduced down to his visuals and his singing...he is a walking melody-maker after all. But he's much deeper than that. He is well-read, he excels at math and science, he understands the human condition better than anyone else around him.

Perhaps in this project, he will explore something that expresses these concepts more deeply.

Motifs he's using in the album's concepts:

Blooming: ME

Serenade: US

A field of flowers, not just any flower, a simple small white flower. Thousands of them. Do the flowers represent us?

I wonder what the blurred out center image of the album covers will reveal.

In his Sept. 1 live last year, among the things he spoke about (besides his Jungkookie's birthday) Jimin told us he was doing things differently, like starting from scratch.

During this live, commenters kept asking about his beat up knuckles and he said just wait and we will find out. He also showed us his workout room in his house.

He also showed us his solar system mood light casting images across the ceiling of his bedroom. He says he falls asleep with it on.

Yet he's an expert at talking to us for a great length of time without really telling us anything. Masterful in fact. He rarely reveals anything personal. We were astonished when he walked through his own home and showed us various rooms in it.

But he wasn't always like this. Whatever circumstances, whether it be outside forces or his own inner growth and maturity, he's changed over the years. He's an expert at hiding parts of himself and his life from us.

How difficult is it for any of us to be our REAL selves in front of anyone? How many of us hide the fact we are Army from our friends, family and co-workers? How many of us behave a certain way in certain situations in order to hide what we perceive are our weaknesses? How many of us are reluctant to speak out, even about frivolous things or dress a certain way or avoid wearing certain colors because what people might think or perceive about us?

Now imagine that you make your living by putting yourself on stage and in front of cameras for millions of prying eyes.

I do think Jimin loves the drama of it all, the mystique. I believe Jimin loves sensuality and provocation. And I think he loves creating visual expressions of all of it.

Many of us share the same inner muse but few of us possess the tools like Jimin does to express these inner musings outwardly. But if we did too, could we? Do we have the fortitude to put ourselves out there? Sure, it's easy to say "if I had a body like Jimin's I would walk around naked all the time." Would you really? Would you really invite the eyes to look and pry and critique? Would you welcome the amount of judgement that would take place? Because it never stops at just one thing. Offering yourself up invites judgement about everything, even things you don't have any control over, from the shape of your fingers to the tone of your voice.

Over the years, Jimin has shown how self-critical he is, constantly wanting to improve himself, always seeming determined to take it to the next level. Determined to show us another side of himself. Brave enough to keep revealing what he draws from his own muse.

MusE... blooming... ME

mUSe... serenade... US

Jimin's blooming and in this record, he will serenade us with his love. He really didn't want to leave us. Perhaps he felt he was just hitting his stride. I felt it.

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 10

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, language, Soldier Boy gets hurt, PTSD, mention of drugs, mention of torture, reader gets hurt

Word Count: 4245

A/N: English is not my first language.

♩ This is the song of the chapter, 'Alone and Together' by No Clear Mind.

When Ben sat down on the bed and waited, neither of you said anything or did anything for a while. You hated how he still treated you, so you turned your back on him while closing your eyes and avoiding the heavy feeling in your heart. You wanted to let things go, but you also felt like you had a lot to say to him about how deeply his actions had wounded you and how much you still suffered. You stayed mute because you knew that talking about it would only make things worse and give him the impression that you still cared.

All you longed for was for him to see how much his acts had hurt and pained you and to realize just how selfish he was. But you eventually realized that Ben wasn't someone who would actually listen to you, even for a brief moment. Even if you decided to give him another chance and let him get close to you again, he would still hurt you without considering the consequences or your feelings; therefore, it was best to let the past die in the past and leave memories of both joy and sorrow behind. These blissful days would never return.

You were ruminating so much that you shifted on the bed until your chest reached the edge, making it obvious that you didn't want to come into contact with him. Ben seemed to pause due to your behavior. 

“I don't bite,” he said, annoyed that you were making every effort to avoid him. This ended the quiet that lingered between you. “You can come a little closer. Sleep comfortable.” 

“I am comfortable.”

He sighed with annoyance as he made his way to the bed. Ben considered drawing a little closer to you, but he quickly dismissed this idea. You would become upset based on your response to his touch and your fragile attitude. Even though he didn't know you were in his thoughts at all times, he felt extremely hungry and affectionate toward you ever since he woke up. And though every cell in his body was screaming to be near you, to touch you, and to hold you close to him, the realization that you didn't feel the same way made him feel a little insecure—a feeling he wasn't used to experiencing in his connection with you.

He whispered, “You'll fall there,” in an attempt to persuade you.” I'm not going to touch you.” Again.

“It won't hurt if I fall, though.” In an attempt to find some solace, you took the entire blanket from him and placed it between your thighs. “I'm a supe too, remember?” you exclaimed. 

Ben leaned down at the head of the bed, his veiny and powerful arms supporting his head while he stared at his bare chest and tried not to smile when you took the blanket away from him a little too firmly. 

He abruptly muttered, “I'm sorry,” in a dry voice, trying to start a conversation while he continued to glance at your back and listen to your quiet, gentle heartbeats. 

“For what?”

How should he respond? For shoving you into the bed, sucking your nipples, kissing you out of the blue, and attempting to fuck you like a wolf in heat? Taking a big breath, he folded his arms across his chest and scowled, not knowing quite what to say. He didn't used to talk to you like this since you weren't that far away from him before he screwed things up. 

You attempted to contain your rage and kept your eyes closed because you didn't want to get into another fight with Ben, and you knew how sensitive his nerves were. You were also feeling a little anxious about his new, unpredictable abilities.

“Just don't do it again,” you simply said, trying to sound calm but firm. “I am serious, Ben.”

He wanted to argue, but he was at a loss for words. He answered, “Of course,” in a low voice, knowing that he shouldn't have behaved in that manner before speaking with you in an appropriate way.

Ben knew you moved too much when you slept, so even though he wanted to be near you, he went to the edge of the bed to give you enough room to make you feel comfortable and sleep in peace. While he listened to your calm breathing and watched as you swiftly fell off to sleep, he reminisced on your shared memories and felt sorrow for all that had happened between you, including how much he had messed up. He realized it would be difficult to win back your trust, but he knew he would do everything in his power to do so. He just didn't know how.

This morning, just after changing into your new clothes in the restroom, you ate breakfast quietly as Butcher and his buddies talked about Vought and the Seven. When Annie began to dispute with Butcher and Hughie, you did not interrupt them—in contrast to Ben, who was also having arguments with Butcher—and instead concentrated on your meal. 

“I'm just saying consuming those Temp-V's doesn't sound safe, and you're forcing Hughie to inject it in himself too,” Annie pointed to Hughie's face as he attempted to eat breakfast quietly.

Hughie stated, “He's not pressuring me. I'm taking Temp-V on my own initiative, and I find it to be really helpful,” he said quietly. Annie shot him a cold stare, which instantly caused him to stop talking. 

“Why the fuck are you all attacking me?” Butcher spoke while lifting his arms. “Temp-V is absolutely secure. It only grants us superpowers for a full day. Is there any damage in this” 

“Oh my god,” Annie muttered, irritated with Butcher's impetuous behavior. “Don't you think it's a bit atypical to play with your DNA that fluently?” 

“So what?” Annie was cut off by Ben's stern voice. “Even if it harms their biology, it's not wrong to use it since it's better to die than to live like a weak pussy.”

Butcher instantly agreed with Ben: “Soldier Boy's got a point,” and he gave Hughie a tight squeeze. “Besides, we are just a bunch of annoying losers against the Seven and Vought. You have to find them more for us because we need to use all of this trash. I don't want to shatter your little heart, love, but all you do is consume up my electricity, and right now we are outnumbered against them.”

Annie's jaw tightened as she glanced at Butcher, her eyes suddenly brightening with a deep shade of yellow. 

“Maybe your electricity can be useful at some points; what do you say?”

“Hey,” Butcher grinned at her and added, “Let's not spoil our family meeting. Stay calm. That's not how you keep your man, right?”

Hughie put his hand Annie's and softly said, “Can we talk about this later?”

Annie sighed angrily, shoving Hughie's hand away from her and getting to her feet, adding, “You know, I need to go, and we'll definitely talk about this again.”

As Butcher said Annie farewell before leaving the house after their argument, you and Ben were observing their facial expressions. Hughie looked at Ben, irritated, as he took his phone from him and began to play with it. You weren't asking anything, but you were occasionally peering in,om him even though you were rather interested in what he was doing with the phone. 

“We need two phones just like this one.” Ben abruptly said, “One for her, one for me,” holding up the device to Butcher's face. 

“Are you a teenager obsessed with technology?” He was instantly teased by Butcher, who gave him one of his nasty smiles. 

Ben looked at Hughie, who was kindly asking for his phone back, and said, “If you are not going to give us two phones, I'm going to take this,” but Ben wasn't even paying attention to Hughie at all. 

“Alright, we'll get your phones. Could you please return mine to me?” 

With a quick motion, you grabbed the phone out of Ben's hand and delivered it to Hughie while smiling. With a look of graditude on his face, he returned your shy smile. 

Ben said, glaring at Butcher's face, “Today,” giving Hughie no attention. 

“Alright,” Butcher agreed. “We'll buy your phones today and make sure you two watch the best porn and make yourself busy, alright?”

“Ben is a man of actions; he likes to screw every kind of woman in real life,” you sarcastically remarked, grimaced at Butcher's remarks and folding your arms over your chest. 

Ben immediately asserted, “I don't,” and you asked Butcher, “Can we already move to the place we're going to stay in?” without giving him the chance to respond to you. 

“Sure, sweetie, but let me have my breakfast in peace, and then we can leave.”

You watched the TV and the news until Butcher and the others finished their meal, which was less than an hour ago. You looked for any updates regarding Earving, but there was nothing at all. Everything on every channel was Homelander and political crap. 

You could tell he was a dangerous man by the way he used language, his professionalism in interviews, and his controlled facial expression. It appeared that Vought had discovered the ideal obedient superhero that fit their preferences.

Ben quietly murmured, “Hey, we're leaving,” as you were lost in idleness. 

You nodded to him, got up, and watched him pick up his shield from where he'd put it yesterday on the corner. That was the moment you realized you had never really used your powers. Since you weren't safe at all and you weren't sure whether you were experiencing any hidden side effects like Ben, you realized you wanted to exercise as soon as possible.

After leaving Kimiko and Frenchie at home, Butcher and Hughie took you to the place where you and Ben will be living for a while. Hughie kindly assisted you in learning how to use the phones that Butcher had purchased for you and Ben. You learned how to make calls easily, at least. Ben had complained that you just required his number and that no one else's was needed, but you disregarded him and asked Hughie to record everyone's number on your phone.

While you were looking over the house, Ben placed his shield in a corner. Despite its small size, you felt safer there than you would in the city since it was isolated. The smell of this place, which was like a forest, finally helped you to relax after the sickeningly heavy and dirty air of the city center.

Butcher put his hand in his pocket and stated, “You're just going to stay here for a while until me and my boys sort things out with the Vought and until you are a bit forgotten by the angry people of America. I'm telling you, though, don't leave the house. If you do, I'll know. I will occasionally check on you.”

“Go suck a friend's balls and make sure he puts his jizz in your empty mouth.” Ben scowled in frustration, set down the closest coach, and put his hands behind his head. “All you do is talk for fucks sake.”

Cursing him back in a mocking manner, Butcher dragged you into a corner and said, “You seem like a more reasonable supe than him, don't you? You should

stay inside the house, dear. I mean it. You have all you need here, and it's a pretty safe location. I will come see how you're doing.”

“Alright, alright.” You nodded to him after glancing at Ben, who had already begun watching TV, but you knew that he was keeping his ears on Butcher and you. “But what will happen afterwards?”

“You hand that off to your teammate and me. There are a lot of things to do here, and you'll have time to think about your future.”

“I just don't want to get sucked into something dangerous; I'm not a bad person, and I've already gone through a lot.” It felt uncomfortable to share your anxieties with him, but you knew you had to be clear from the beginning and that they needed to understand you.

“I don't even know how to fix things between myself and this country,” you added, crossing your arms over your chest. “And no offense, but I don't trust you and your friends at all.”

Ben grimaced as he heard your intimate conversation with Butcher, during which you confided your anxieties to him. Given that you had known one another for a long time, had an extensive amount of memories, and experienced similar experiences, he ought to have been the one with whom you opened up about everything. The idea that you would trust a complete stranger—someone you had just met—irritated Ben. He should have been to one you opened yourself. It was something else Ben needed to solve with you. 

Ben also knew that, as long as you were with him, nobody could hurt you. He would never be tricked again, and that is the sole reason he was captured. He would ensure that no one, not even himself, could ever hurt you again. 

“You have no other chance but to trust me and my boys though, right? Why being so ungrateful? I'm taking of you two well enough,” said Butcher with a sly smirk and gave you squeeze to your shoulder shortly just before he left the house.

None of you spoke as Butcher left the house, but after a while, you felt his heavy eyes on you as he shifted postures on the couch and watched the TV in silence.

Ben listened to you while you were taking a shower when he grew tired of watching television. Although he wasn't intentionally focusing on you, his supe hearing was drawn to you while you were around. He was compelled to listen to every sound you made. He couldn't deny that your presence soothed him either. Ben didn't care what the reason was as long as you were with him at that particular moment, which might have been anything different, something deeper, or the fact that you were the only person he actually trusted. He knew what you had was special.

You returned to the room after a long shower, changed into clean, gratefully new clothes, and saw him pour whiskey into his glass. You wondered whether his body could withstand a day without drugs or alcohol. 

“Why are you looking in such a way?” Ben took a sip of his drink and asked in a lighthearted manner. “I'm curious about what you're thinking right now.”

“I was wondering if you could just give up drinking or using drugs for a single day,” you asked, getting annoyed that he seemed okay with everything. happening. 

“I survived for decades without using them, sweetie,” he murmured, instantly putting an evil grin on his face. 

You changed the topic and said in a low voice, “Do you think they'll trick us? They can easily fill this house with the same gas that made us sleep for ages.”

Ben instantly stiffened up and felt aggressive as he considered the idea of being betrayed by teammates once more and returning to the lab in Russia. When he considered the years he wasted and the treachery he had experienced—years without you—it was difficult to contain his rage. 

He filled his glass once more and remarked, “They might try.” His eyes remained fixed on yours. “I doubt they would dare do such a thing. They really want that Homelander guy dead and are most likely attempting to kill that man for a very long period, but it seems that they ultimately fall unsuccessful.”

You shivered and felt uneasy when he brought about Homelander, and you whispered, “There has to be a reason why they can't handle a single supe, Ben.”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “They are just some weak, useless piece of shitbags, that's it, and that's why they need me.” 

“I watched Homelander, that man, on TV. He is undoubtedly skilled at manipulating the public and the media, and in today's society, power seems to be much more significant.”

“Remember what Butcher said: People easily forget, and they'll forget him as well when they realize he's not the strongest supe at all.” 

You scowled in annoyance at seeing Ben had no longer cared about the world or how things were working at all. You didn't know if he was up to something or whether he simply didn't give a damn other than killing Homelander. 

“Ben, I don't believe that getting rid of Homelander will resolve anything from our side. Can't you see how everyone hates me and you at the moment? If you attack Homelander and Vought, things will only become worse.” You replied angrily, annoyed by Ben's careless demeanor, “Butcher and his crew just want to use you against him.”

As he argued with you, Ben let go of the empty glass he was holding and sighed as he observed your annoyance growing. He trusted your strength, but at some point, he became uneasy about your vulnerability.

Ben vowed to destroy Vought and all Seven members when he was set free that day and began searching for you. He understood that the only way to get things going right would be to resolve the issue between you, him, and Vought. He would take over the whole company and form his own new team, proving to the world that he was the strongest supe and that nobody could stop him. In that way, he would be protecting you most importantly. For the time being, though, it was better the less you knew.

Ben said in a determined voice, “I won't let anything happen to you,” as he came nearer to you. Despite being too close and yearning to touch you, he refrained from doing so. “I would never let someone hurt you ever again.”

With a heavy heart, you whispered, “The only one who hurt me was you, Ben,” stepping back and creating some distance. Everything you wanted to say to his face was eating you alive, and you felt like you would blow out at any moment. “It seems like you didn't take any lessons from your mistakes, and you're going to make me drown with you again.”

He said, “I made a deal with Butcher,” ignoring your comments as he saw the sorrowful, icy look on your face. “I promised him that I would help him kill Homelander, and he would help me save you. A deal is a deal.”

Ben wanted you to know that he wasn't just going to break his word; in fact, what he was doing was for you. He was so desperate to find you that day that he was willing to kill Vought's top supe and everyone in a heartbeat. 

“Since when are you so keen on keeping your word?” You asked in a bitter voice. 

Ben was ready to tell you not to think about the past, but he stopped himself because he knew it would hurt and infuriate you even more. Instead, he whispered, “Since right now,” softly, and he slowly stepped forward to confront you. He simply knew it was time to have some conversation. “Look, I know what happened between us in the past wasn't just right, and I wasn't fair to you, but let me fix things.”

Perplexed by his words, you said, “Let you fix things?” Remembering every horrible thing he had done to you, your heart began to rush with hurt and despair, and he was still unable to truly apologize. “Ben, you abandoned me after cheating on me with Crimson. How can you fix something like that? Talking things out can help clear up misunderstandings, but not that.” 

He muttered, “I was wrong about everything and about you,” not knowing how to express how he felt. He found it much more difficult to open up when he saw the disappointed and cold expression in your eyes. “I cared about you a lot; I've always had, and now too. I didn’t know back then, but now I do.”

Ben didn't make a single effort to even slightly touch you, but he was too close to touch you again. For an instant, Ben's gaze lingered on your hands, his heart shattered by the longing to embrace and caress you. He never imagined you would be this different, but here you were. 

This time, you spoke gently, understanding that Ben was simply too blind to really see the damage that he had caused. “I don't think you'll even understand your actions, Ben,” you murmured. 

He opened his lips to say something, but you cut him off right away. “I gave you everything I could, Ben: loyalty, friendship, love, innocence, understanding... I never asked for anything in return. I accepted and loved you as you were.” 

You spoke softly, focusing your attention on his deep emerald eyes and hoping he could understand you. “I gave you everything I had, but you kept what we had concealed from everyone, made me feel like I was a rat, and I never once complained—you already know that I supported the choice you made from the start. When you proposed that our connection be kept secret, I mistakenly assumed that you were protecting me from Vought and everyone else. This was foolish of me, and I held onto this belief all the way to the end.”

Ben listened to you with a pained expression as you talked about the things that hurt you the most, finally.

You continued after a little period of silence between you, stating, “You acted as though you cared for me when we first met, when we were by ourselves. You threw me aside when Countess showed up, kicked me from the squad, and then you tried to bring me back. I attempted to make amends for whatever I had done, despite the harm you had done to me, believing that my actions were the cause of your behavior. However, you continued to ignore me, failing to recognize the true colors of her.”

The image of Crimson's face struck Ben's heart with rage. If he had simply killed her on the first day, none of this would have happened.

He whispered, “I know I should have listened to you, I wish I could turn back time,” cutting you off. “But you must know I never loved her.”

Ben was unsure of his feelings for you, but he knew he had never loved Crimson and never felt anything at all for her. All he knew was that he needed you by his side and that he cared passionately for you. Your presence filled his body and soul with warmth and comfort. It didn't matter the name of whatever he felt about you and what you shared; it was something deeper and more special than anything someone could share with another. At least he knew that for sure.

You gently answered in an understanding tone, “I know, Ben,” knowing that he would never cease to love anyone including you.

You came to the realization after all those years that nothing, not even giving your life for him, could win his affection. You used to think that if you gave him everything you had, there would be a way to win his heart. Nevertheless, nothing would be sufficient to win his love.

His gloved fingers, a tiny glimmer of hope in his heart, only lightly touched yours to gauge how comfortable you were with it. “I know I caused you so much pain you never ever deserved, and I'm sorry for everything I have done to you,” in a sincere voice. “But give me a chance to fix everything. All I want is you and your trust.”

“And I forgive you, Ben. For everything you have done,” you sincerely said, giving a nod to him, understanding that there was no going back and that what was done was done. “But my love is gone.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: I don’t know how this is even going, but here we are. Kind of feeling insecure and hate writing nowadays to be honest. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. They keep me going. Take care. “-“

*Losing You series masterlist is here.

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeee @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @certifiedhaters @deans-spinster-witch @demodemo909 @stoneyggirl2 @cheynovak @libby99hb @moneyburner @jenn-777q @hey-there0-0

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. -`♡´-

[intimidating-fettuccine]

This idea randomly popped into my head and I just wanted to write it down.

Just imagining Helen if he didn’t become a creep. Helen growing up and doing everything he can to get away from his abusive parents. Helen buried himself in his art, trying to perfect and improve it and make something out of it. Helen goes on to become a very well-known artist, making a living off of his work, so much so that he starts to travel so that he can experience new things and further his creativity with all the different views he sees and people he meets. Helen who saw you one day in a park and knew immediately you were the most gorgeous person he’d ever seen. Helen keeps going back to that park hoping to see you again, and he does.

He walks up to where you’re sitting and politely asks to sit next to you, and he’s elated when you agree. He absentmindedly draws the landscape around you, catching your eyes as you compliment him on his work. He bashfully thanks you, explaining he’s an artist and does it by trade. You ask to see more of his pieces, and he shows you photos of them, explaining all of the details and inspirations that went into them. You talk for a few hours, and at the end of it, Helen asks if it would be alright to get your number. Despite fearing rejection more than when publishing any art piece, you accept again, and he feels elation flowing through him.

He decides to stay in your city for a much longer period of time than he originally intended, halting his travel plans. The two of you keep talking, and eventually, Helen asks for you to model for him. You’re unsure at first, not really convinced you’d be the best model for him, but he insists, citing his beliefs; that you’re a very attractive person and he’d love to capture you artistically. Though flustered, you agree to his request and begin casually modeling for him. Soon, all of his sketchbooks are filled with you. Once Helen draws you a few times it becomes muscle memory to him, and he finds himself absentmindedly sketching you whenever he’s distracted. The two of you continue to grow closer, meeting up for lunches and dinners, hanging out when the two of you are free, and occasionally with you modeling for him in between.

Helen knows a few weeks into talking to you that he’d like to ask you on a date, but it takes a few months in truth before he gets there. Months where he was supposed to be leaving your area, but instead he’s renting an apartment, buying furniture, creating a permanent space he never planned on doing, but he can’t force himself to leave. By the time he’s finally confident enough to ask you, you’re equally as interested in him, and soon one date becomes two, and then three, and then four, and then Helen is convinced he’s never going to be able to move away from you.

You’re the most charming and wonderful person he’s ever met, with all of your quirks and habits, and he just can’t help but fall deeper and deeper in love with you every day. Sketches of you become paintings, some of which are subtle enough to obscure your identity he publishes, but those that truly follow his work and online presence begin to recognize the silhouette in his pieces with the person he’s regularly taking photos with when the two of you are on excursions, although nobody has definitive proof of it being you, it’s obvious that you’ve enamored the once lonely artist.

Helen continues to grow, amassing a bigger audience and obtaining a much more stable financial income from his work, taking up commissions in his spare time that contribute heavily. He still travels on occasion but is no longer alone. He takes you with him, showing you his favorite places, all of the beautiful areas you’d never been to before, but can’t help but recognize from some of the photos he once showed you on that fateful day at the park. Months turn into years, a lonely apartment turns into one with warmth and two bodies to occupy it together, and Helen can’t help but relish in the fact that you are the best decision he’s ever made.

Eventually, of course, he asks you to marry him. He takes you to a spot he said he’d been planning on scouting for a painting, a gorgeous area, one of the most beautiful he’d ever taken you to. While you’re admiring the scenery, he kneels down behind you, and of course, when you turn to face him finally and he pops the question, you can’t help but say yes. The next piece he publishes is of a hand, adorned by a beautiful engagement ring in front of a gorgeous view. Then, it becomes two people in love on their wedding day, the same ring spotted in the painting, now accompanied by a wedding band. Through all his early trials and tribulations, Helen never thought he’d find someone to settle down with, but he’s never been more thankful for anything than he is for meeting you. His art started so dark, so moody, but after growing with you it’s become filled with so much warmth and expression. The once lonely artist found his muse that changed his life for the better, his muse that he’ll continue to paint for the rest of his days, so long as he is able.

[blossom-hwa]

melody of the heart [2] | k.th

pairing: Taehyun x fem!reader genre:  fluff, a pinch of angst, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: period typical misogyny word count: 14.4k notes:  — this is for all the bridgerton girlies who have been going insane just like me <3 highly inspired by francesca/john's burgeoning romance from the first half, so hope you all enjoy! — some of the dialogue has been lifted from the show—I do not claim any credit for it. — this takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun story, if you'll have me :) feel free to check that out as well! When your father calls you home from the continent to join the London season, for the first time in your life, you nearly throw a fit. You are not just the daughter of a viscount—you’ve made a name for yourself in England and abroad with your prodigious talent at the piano, having since childhood performed for royal courts far and wide. You have traveled far and beyond most other ladies of your rank, and to have your career halted all for the sake of marriage to a man who will likely force you to quit your craft is unthinkable. But all your life you have lived without raising a hand to your father, and so when the letter comes, you return home for the season, hoping and praying to make it through without stirring the waters.  Enter Taehyun Kang, Earl of Addiston—recently titled, in search of a wife, and as tired of the season already as you are. During a chance meeting at the season’s third ball you grow to know each other, and as time passes you grow to like each other, a mutual respect forming when you learn the depths of one another’s passions in the arts. In Taehyun you find a respite from the men who would clip your wings for the sake of finding a perfect wife. In you Taehyun finds a kindred spirit who would respect him for himself, and not the lands in his name. Together you navigate the grueling social activities of the London matchmaking project as acquaintances, then as friends, and maybe, just maybe— As lovers, too.  Part 1 >> Part 2

TXT Masterlist

When morning comes and you open your eyes, everything looks so normal that you decide last night wasn’t real. The sun is shining through the windows. The sky outside is blue. The queen did not happen upon you playing the piano last night, and she did not name you her diamond. 

Upon entering the drawing room, however, you begin to realize that the nightmare is in fact reality. 

Your aunt presides over a small army of servants arranging enormous bouquets of flowers, blooms of every color arraying the room. Your cousins hover over several piles of boxes, each tied with bright ribbon. Your father stands in the middle of it all, looking strangely pleased, and when he turns to you, one of his rare smiles is set against his face. 

You swallow. “What is going on?”

“You have done well for our family, my daughter,” he says, coming closer. For all the warmth in his voice you still almost shrink away—you’re not used to his kindness, and from the stilted edge to his words, he isn’t either. “The queen named you her diamond, and these are the gifts bestowed upon you for it.”

Against your will, last night comes rushing back. The Harlowe’s ball. All the noise, all the chatter. Lady Park striking up a conversation with you just when your head had started to hurt, and winking when she mentioned the Harlowe’s music room. Dark corridors and blessed silence and Mozart sonatas dancing beneath your fingers—

Then the queen herself appearing in the room, and with a smile on her face that only struck dread in your chest, naming you her diamond. 

She had accompanied you out of the room with her entourage following, Lady Park at her side. You couldn’t think of an excuse to get away. And so, when you entered the ballroom once more, you had no defense when the queen looked at you with a broad smile, and kissed your forehead in full view of everyone there. 

The diamond, you could practically hear everyone whisper. She’s been named the diamond. 

Head spinning, you swallow. “The queen does not give gifts to her diamonds,” you say dumbly. 

“These are not from the queen, silly girl,” your aunt says. “These are from your suitors, who hope to court your hand.” She smiles, oblivious to the dread pooling through your chest. “Come, my girl. See what gifts they have brought you.”

You let yourself be dragged to the center of the room where most of the gifts lie. Your cousins are definitely more eager to see them than you, so you let them open the boxes of jewelry and wow over the flowers, nodding and smiling perfunctorily as needed. You don’t really notice much of it, though, because you’re still trying to believe this isn’t happening. 

It is, though. And even though calling hour isn’t for a while yet, you have a sinking feeling that it’s going to be more crowded than it ever has been. If last night was anything to go by…

After the queen had kissed your forehead in full view of the room, there was a sort of pause. The orchestra kept playing, but even those on the dance floor stopped moving for a moment. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on you and you couldn’t even move, you were so frozen in place. Even when the room started shifting again, you couldn’t seem to unstick your feet from the floor until an outstretched hand had made its way into your line of vision, and you had to finally look up to see who it was. 

It was Lord Kang. And the relief you felt was—overwhelming. So overwhelming you almost started crying. In that moment, however cliché it sounds, you thought you could understand those scenes in fairy tales when the princess was saved by her prince, and while you may resent yourself for the fact that you needed saving, you’re endlessly thankful that he was there for it. 

“My lady,” he’d said like nothing just happened, kissing your hand. “I haven’t seen you all night. Congratulations on your new title.”

“Thank you, my lord.” If he noticed your voice shaking a little, he said nothing of it. “I apologize. I hid myself away for a while, for…some quiet.”

His eyes crinkled into one of his gentle smiles. “I heard,” he’d said, skillfully guiding you around the room. “The Mozart was wonderful. I would have said something earlier, but I didn’t want to interrupt you and then the queen arrived. I did not think either of us would want to be compromised, or stir rumors.”

“I should think not,” you had said, smiling a little. “I appreciate it.”

“Is your next dance taken?” he had asked, an abrupt change of subject. The music was dying away, the couples on the dance floor saying their goodbyes. You shook your head, and his eyes sparkled. “If not, would you mind if I stole it, then?”

This time, a real smile—your last of the evening—spread over your lips. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Lord Kang was a very good dancer—light on his feet with a good sense of rhythm, and a strong frame that guided you into each next step without you having to improperly initiate it yourself. A lovely respite from several of your earlier partners who seemed to have two left feet. In Lord Kang’s arms, you almost forgot the events of just some minutes ago, losing yourself in the easiness of his footsteps and conversation. Beyond his initial congratulations, he didn’t mention the queen’s designation once. Until the end of time you’ll be grateful for it.

But then the music ended, and reality came rushing back. 

Almost immediately after you’d made your curtsies and Lord Kang had taken his bow, you noticed several figures walking up to you. By the time you fully turned around, a small group had crowded in front of the dance floor, right where you would have stepped off. Men, all of them—all looking at you with varying degrees of interest, interest they never would have had if the queen had not made her declaration. 

For the second time that night, you froze. People were talking but you couldn’t hear what they were saying, the noise of the room a roaring buzz in your ears. Half of you had a mind to run out the nearest exit but your legs just wouldn’t move. 

You don’t know how long you stood there before Lord Kang’s voice finally cut through the din. “It seems your newfound title has caused some stir, my lady,” he had said quietly. You looked at him and he looked at you and there was a little smile on his face that helped ease your heart rate just slightly. Then his expression turned serious. “You need not do anything you do not like,” he said lowly. “If you would prefer, I can help you make some excuse.”

You would have taken him up on it. You’re not sure what he had in mind—fake a dizzy spell or headache, or just a need for some fresh air—but you would have done it. But then your aunt appeared in all her ill-timed glory and started filling the rest of your dance card with terrible efficiency, and all you could do was give Taehyun a small, sad little smile and whisper a thanks before some new gentleman ushered you onto the dance floor. 

Last night turned your mind into mush. Too many people, too many questions, too much dancing for your introverted self to handle. Gazing at the flowers and presents littered about the room now, you have the sinking feeling that calling hour is about to be even worse. 

Which it is. There are apparently men queueing in a line down the hall, waiting for a chance to speak with you. More flowers fill the drawing room, and your smile becomes increasingly fixed to your face with each new gentleman who enters the room. Most of them are pleasant enough and able to keep the conversation going even as your head begins to hurt more and more, but some of them are truly unpleasant people, and even your aunt’s face looks more pinched than usual when she ushers Mr. Yang-Tran out of the room. 

You don’t even get a respite at dinner. It’s all anyone can seem to talk about, and even your taciturn father puts forth several opinions on those who managed to call today. Those who didn’t make it during the designated hour left a plethora of flowers and gifts, and there’s a small mountain of calling cards sitting on one of the drawing room tables that you can’t really bring yourself to look through. Only one of them matters, anyway, and you stole that one away.

When the meal is over, you all return to the drawing room to continue the dinner chatter. They all seem to be so full of laughter and cheer that it makes you feel somewhat alien for not feeling the same, but it gives you more opportunity to sink into the corner of a couch fade into the background. With everyone’s attention diverted, you pull out Lord Kang’s card. It’s lovely, very elegant, but you don’t really care about how it looks. You flip the card around to see the words written on the back. 

My lady—

I hope you will not find it too forward of me to write, but I wanted to express my congratulations again on your well-earned title last night. I hope you will find some pleasure in it for I can think of no one more deserving of it this season than you. I apologize that I could not see you before calling hour ended, but I pray I will have better luck next time. 

You certainly hope so too. 

Swallowing hard, you look at the table, where an array of the most pleasing flowers and gifts have been laid out. Jewelry glitters in the candlelight, making the flowers almost seem to glow. But you only have eyes for the few books that lie beside them, their nondescript leather covers dark in the night. 

No one really notices when you stand. They don’t notice you picking up the books, then heading out of the room. No one follows you into the music room, where you shut the door firmly after lighting several candles to give the space a little light. 

For several hours you alternate between practicing and reading. The crease of paper beneath your fingers comforts you as you immerse yourself in sheet music and music history, and when a servant eventually comes to call you to bed, you feel well enough to go without complaint. 

On your nightstand rests a small bouquet of fresh flowers. Lord Kang left them with his card, and when you learned this you asked a servant to bring them to your room. You place the calling card next to the vase before blowing out the candle, crawling into bed, and falling into a dreamless sleep. 

. . . . .

The title of diamond is a coveted one, Taehyun knows, and it is an honor to receive it from the queen. So many debutantes each season have been vying for the designation and he can hardly fault them for it, not when it brings so much prestige. 

You are not undeserving of the name. Far from it. With your fame, quiet grace, and incomparable talent at the piano, Taehyun wonders why the queen didn’t choose you earlier. All of this talk about Her Majesty being bored, surrounded by ladies tripping over themselves to impress her in ways she’s already seen before, doesn’t quite make sense to him. Your honesty and genuine nature were obvious to him from the start. How could it not be to the queen?

Yet, for all Taehyun knows it is an honor, he still somewhat wishes the queen had given the title to someone else. 

For—well, selfish reasons. Taehyun privately resents the fact that all the men of the ton are now queueing at your door to shower you in empty compliments and vague flowers. He treasured the time the you spent together, the precious minutes he spent in your drawing room speaking with you or listening to you play the piano, and now all that time has been snatched away by the callers crowding your doorstep. Even at balls, between your aunt and the queen herself, he can only manage to catch you for moments at a time. A single dance. A snippet of conversation. Then your aunt has moved you on to someone else, or the queen would like to introduce you to another titled gentleman, and he has to bid you good night before they haplessly rush you off. 

Again, all very selfish reasons. Taehyun feels guilty every time he even thinks them. But in his defense—and Taehyun doesn’t like to presume—you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself nearly as much as someone named the incomparable of the season should. You haven’t said it to him directly, but Taehyun feels that you also would have preferred someone else to be the season’s incomparable instead of you. 

It doesn’t matter, though, because one does not refute the queen. She leads society and the season, and in this court of gossip and schemes, she reigns supreme. Which is the only reason why Taehyun hasn’t pretended not to notice her more than could be presumed polite, each time she comes around with a new marquess to introduce to you. He is not wealthy or important enough to save himself from her possible wrath. 

(The queen may be a kind woman, but the entire ton knows that she is a force to be reckoned with.)

With all this, the thought occurs to him to just propose sooner rather than later. It is becoming increasingly obvious that no other woman has and will capture his attentions quite the way you have, and you’re the only one to whom Taehyun would feel comfortable giving a betrothal ring. He doesn’t think you would say no. But at the same time, you’re a shy creature, and even he would prefer a little more time to court you. Couples have gotten married in far less time than the two of you have known each other, of course, but you deserve a proper courtship. And he would like for you to know one another better before he decides on a ring. 

All of which would be much more easily done if he could speak to you for more than a few short minutes at a time. 

And, perhaps, lady luck has decided to shine on him the night of the queen’s ball, only the most important event of the season. Taehyun counts himself lucky to have received an invitation, but more importantly, as the season’s diamond, he knows that you must be there too. He hops out of his carriage in front of the palace just in time to see you stepping out of yours a short distance away, moonlight glittering on your figure. 

For a moment, Taehyun forgets how to breathe. 

You look…beautiful. Not that you hadn’t been beautiful before, of course—you’ve been lovely since the moment Taehyun saw you that first night at the Tillings’ ball. But as Taehyun watches you settle on the ground, starlight sparkling over your dress, your headpiece, the elegant jewels around your neck and hands, he can see the delicate care you and your lady’s maids have certainly put into your appearance for tonight. 

And it was well worth it. 

Before he can stop himself, he’s walking in your direction. You don’t notice him immediately but when you meet his eyes, a smile seems to brighten your eyes as he bows. “My lady,” he greets, kissing your hand. “You look especially beautiful tonight.”

You duck your head shyly, but when you finally tip up your chin again, the smile has only grown. “Thank you, Lord Kang. I suppose the hours spent on my appearance were worth the time.”

“They certainly were.” He extends his arm. “May I walk you into the ballroom? I should appreciate this opportunity, having arrived so soon after one another, to speak with you. It seems we are always being interrupted, or that there simply isn’t enough time.”

“I would love that,” you reply sincerely. Inwardly, Taehyun preens a little when you don’t even look at your aunt before taking his arm. 

“I must apologize for all the interruptions,” you say as the two of you begin walking up to the palace. Your smile seems to drop a bit. “I…do not believe I was properly prepared to understand all that goes into being a diamond. I do not mean that I am not honored by the queen’s attentions,” you add quickly. “But I suppose I had not expected that so many would now ask for a piece of my time.”

“Your time was valuable even before you were made the diamond,” Taehyun replies. “I’m only honored that you shared it with me. But do know that you are deserving of this title.” He smiles, a little teasingly. “Though I must admit, it is nice to be able to see you now without the other gentlemen vying for your affections as well.”

You pause for a moment, as though picking your next words carefully. “If you must know, my lord,” you finally say, “they never posed much competition to you.”

Taehyun looks at you quickly. You look back at him, holding his gaze for a moment before you turn away, shoulders lifting shyly as though to shield you from…something. Anything. 

He lifts a hand to your chin and turns you gently his way again. “Thank you, my lady,” he says softly when you meet his eyes again. “Your words do me the greatest honor.”

“I only speak the truth,” you reply steadily, though Taehyun hears the tremor carefully hidden behind your words. It only endears you to him more. 

The two of you enter the ballroom together. Lights burst in Taehyun’s vision, crystal and glass glittering everywhere. Next to him, your breath seems to catch, and he feels much the same as he steps into the large, sparkling room. The fanciest place he’s ever been was the duke and duchess’s own ballroom. It was lovely, but this is something else altogether. 

Immediately upon your entrance, Taehyun already sees heads turning your way. Jealousy flares in his chest, but pride stamps it out—he’s the one who walked you into the room, after all, and you’re the one who said no one else was much competition compared to him. 

That doesn’t mean he’s going to let down his guard, though. 

He turns to you and your glittering ensemble, candlelight almost glowing around your figure. “Before we are surely interrupted again,” he says, smiling wryly, “may I have your first dance, my lady?”

You place your hand in his with a grin. “Of course, my lord.”

Taehyun loves dancing with you. You’re easily one of the best dancers in the ton, not even just among the season’s debutantes. For obvious reasons, you have a wonderful sense of rhythm and melody, and you clearly lean into that sort of sixth sense as you play with the timing of the choreographed steps and the unique twists of the music. You twirl under his hand, returning to his arms with a bright smile, and Taehyun is suddenly reminded of a flower opening its petals under the sun. 

Too soon, the music ends, and with it ends the magic of the dance you shared. Glancing at those who have gathered at the edge of the ballroom, Taehyun feels the jealousy flare again. How free he would feel if he could dance with you all night without worry of what the ton would think! But Taehyun has had the rules of society drummed into his head since he was old enough to comprehend language, and he knows he cannot share more than one dance with you in a row without stirring rumors of impropriety. So when you curtsy, he only bows, kissing your hand once more. 

“You are a wonderful dancer, my lady,” he compliments. The orchestra is in a lull now, waiting for dancers to find new partners, and everything he says will be clear to those who stand around him, so he chooses his next words carefully. Dancing with the same person twice means announcing a serious intention to court them to the entire ton, carrying more weight than even repeated weekly calls, but… “If you would be so inclined, I would be deeply honored if I could take one of your dances later this evening, as well.”

Your mouth parts. A strange, but not unwelcome expression passes over your face. He’d given his request quietly in case you refused, but a smile grows on your lips as you nod once, slowly, then again with more conviction. “I should like that very much,” you say, extending your dance card to him. 

Taehyun smiles broadly as he takes the small card. “Would it be all right if we danced the quadrille?” he asks. 

Your eyes sparkle. “Did someone tell you that was my favorite dance?”

He shakes his head in surprise. “A lucky guess.”

“Truly.” You smile, though it drops a little when you glance behind him at the crowd that has surely only grown larger since the last dance ended. “I will wait patiently for our quadrille, then, my lord.”

Taehyun gives you what he hopes is a comforting smile. “I will be counting the dances until then.”

. . . 

Unfortunately, Taehyun somewhat loses track of the dances somewhere along the way, mostly because he is also dealing with a consistently large group of people who insist on corralling him every time he so much as steps away from the dance floor. 

By a group of people, he really just means a group of debutantes and their mothers. They just…follow him. It’s a bit creepy. And when one disappears, another appears to take her place, so the group just never seems to fade away. Yeonjun was here earlier to help divert some of the attention but at some point he left to spend some time with his wife, which Taehyun can hardly fault him for. 

Taehyun is at his wit’s end by the time he finds himself near the table of drinks. He adopts a very concentrated look on his face—far more than is necessary when examining an array of lemonade and alcohol—but it seems to discourage some of the shyer girls, who start to hang back a little. 

He feels a little bad. It’s not like this is their fault, and if he wasn’t so damn tired, he wouldn’t mind engaging them in conversation either. But Taehyun has been dancing half the night and talking for the other half, and about topics he genuinely does not care about, so he takes his time selecting a whiskey before turning around, internally bracing himself for the onslaught. 

The onslaught comes in the form of a Mrs. Lim, here to present her first daughter, and a Mrs. Jung, with her second daughter. Taehyun smiles as best he can through brittle teeth and tries not to be too curt with his replies, but then other women start showing up to introduce and re-introduce their daughters and even when Taehyun says that he has already promised most of his dances away, they still won’t leave. He’s at his wits’ end, the glass in his hand now empty, when the group before him parts for a familiar face that fills him with relief. 

“Excuse me,” you murmur, edging politely past Mrs. Jung to stand in front of him. Instantly Taehyun feels himself begin to relax—he hadn’t realized he was so tense until you showed up. “My lord, the quadrille is next.” You look at him steadily even as the group breaks into whispers—Did he not take her first dance? Will they dance twice? What does this mean?“I believe I promised this dance to you, if you would still like to take it.”

Taehyun nearly sags with relief. “I should like nothing more,” he says, extending a hand. “Apologies, ladies, I must go.” He bows slightly, then heads off to the dance floor without a second glance back. 

“I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important,” you say lowly, turning to face him. 

“Not at all,” Taehyun replies, leading you into frame. “In fact, your interruption was…most welcome.”

A wry twinkle appears in your eye. “It seemed so, though I didn’t want to presume.”

Taehyun laughs. “I thank you, then, for your opportune timing.”

“There is no need for thanks.” You smile. “You saved me at the Bridgertons’ ball after the queen crowned me her diamond.” Your smile grows smaller, though no less sincere. “I didn’t have the chance to thank you for that.”

The orchestra picks up, signaling the end of the dance’s introduction, but Taehyun only looks at you carefully. “Forgive me for assuming,” he says quietly, “but my lady, you don’t seem to want the title much at all.”

You bite your lip even as you begin to move, instinctively stepping to the music. “It is an honor,” you reply lowly. “I will never be ungrateful for the queen’s approval. But I must confess…I wish she had chosen someone else instead.” You try to smile, but even Taehyun can see that it’s forced. “I am a quiet person, my lord. I never really wanted the attention that would come with being the season’s diamond. I believe others are far more suited to the role than I.”

Sympathy wells in Taehyun’s heart. No matter how tense he felt around the mamas and their daughters, he can’t imagine how this has all been for you. Granted, you have your aunt to field some of the gentlemen who come to you, but she seems more preoccupied with attracting more of them than shielding you from the onslaught. “I’m sorry,” he says simply, because he doesn’t know quite what else to say other than I understand, which would probably seem disingenuous. 

You seem to hear the words left unsaid, though, because you give him a little smile when you find your way back into his arms. “It is what it is,” you state bravely. “And, at the very least, I can look forward to dancing with you.”

Taehyun’s heart stutters a beat, though you don’t seem to notice it. “Believe me, Miss L/N, I look forward to it at least as much as you,” he says when he finds his voice again. 

In the last measures of the quadrille, you smile at each other softly. You curtsy, and Taehyun bows, and in a last stroke of desperation to keep you with him a little longer, he extends his arm again. “Would you like some refreshment?” he offers. “You have been dancing all night. Surely you must be parched.”

You open your mouth, about to respond. But then your eye catches on something behind him and your face grows still, a smile curving your lips that doesn’t reach your eyes. Taehyun turns to see the queen approaching the two of you, an elegantly dressed gentleman following closely behind her. 

“Your Majesty,” the two of you murmur at the same time. The queen gives Taehyun a perfunctory little smile before directing her attention to you. “Miss L/N,” she says warmly, gesturing for the other man to come forward. “My diamond. Allow me to introduce to you Marquess Yang. Marquess Yang, meet my incomparable of the season.”

Objectively, there’s nothing wrong with the marquess. He’s handsome and seems pleasant enough as he introduces himself and kisses your hand. Still, Taehyun’s heart flares with jealous dislike for the man, but there’s nothing he can do about it. At least, nothing that wouldn’t be improper. 

“Pleased to meet you,” you say, giving the marquess a quick curtsy. You turn to Taehyun, then, and there’s only resignation in your unsmiling eyes. “Forgive me, my lord.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he replies quickly, returning a short bow. “Perhaps we will catch each other later tonight, my lady.” He kisses your hand, holding your fingers for a touch longer than is strictly necessary. “Have a good evening.” 

With a bow to the queen and a parting smile to the marquess that he doesn’t mean at all, Taehyun heads back into the crowd, knowing that despite his words, he probably won’t get another moment with you all night.

. . . . .

When calling hour ends, you turn to your governess and say in a very quiet voice, “I will be ill tomorrow.”

She blinks once. Twice. “But, my lady—”

“I don’t care what my aunt says,” you state very, very calmly. “Or what my father says. I will be ill. Too ill to get out of bed.”

She glances at your aunt at the other side of the room, ordering rearrangements of some certain bouquets of flowers on the mantel. Then she nods. “As you wish, my lady.”

You breathe a long sigh of relief and stand up. “Thank you.”

No one says anything or tries to stop you when you leave the drawing room and make your way to your bedroom. You sit heavily on your bed and fall onto your back, staring at the ceiling but not really seeing anything. Your head hurts from calling hour and you can’t really process anything between the pounding of your temples. 

Another steady stream of callers came today, all with their colorful flowers and pretty words. Lord Kang wasn’t among them, not even those who were unable to see you before they had to leave and left their cards for you to peruse instead. You can’t blame him—no one calls every day, and you would never expect him to even if you perceive there is interest on his end—but the irrational part of you mumbles that you still would have liked to see him anyway. The flowers he left last week have dried so the servants removed them from your bedside, but you’ve kept his card hidden in one of the drawers of your nightstand. It might sound pathetic, but you’ve taken to tracing his careful handwriting on the creamy paper. It soothes you. Somewhat. 

You’re just so—tired. Of everything. Of the charade of being a debutante, of the title of diamond, of having to sit and be pretty and nod along to all of the men who suddenly see worth in you not for yourself but for the queen’s belated approval. They talk about their plans for the future like you are a guarantee in their lives, a guaranteed little mannequin who will stand there and agree with every decision they make, and worst of all, they’re not even good conversationalists. You’re the first to admit that you aren’t very good at conversing with near strangers, but one of them asked you what makes you tick today. 

What does that even mean?

The Marquess of Schannon, whom the queen introduced to you at the last ball, paid you a call today too. He is not a bad person. In fact, of all those you spoke to, he was the most pleasant. If you hadn’t met Lord Kang, you might have been interested in him—he was very polite, respectful, and seemed genuinely interested in your passion for music. Your conversation with him was pleasant and he didn’t further your headache, and the flowers he brought were very pretty.

But all the while you were speaking with him, you couldn’t help but compare him to Lord Kang. 

Which isn’t fair. You know you should shape your opinion on the marquess independently from anyone else. It’s just—every good thing you thought about the marquess, Lord Kang was either equal, or did it better. 

Speaking with Marquess Yang was pleasant. Speaking with Lord Kang brings you excitement. 

Marquess Yang respects your devotion to the piano. Lord Kang respects your devotion, and engages you in conversation about the topic. 

The marquess is a fine dancer. The quadrille you danced with Lord Kang was the best one you have ever danced yet. 

You breathe out a sigh. The queen means to matchmake you with the marquess, you’re sure. Lady Arina Park said about as much when she caught you at the queen’s ball, though she also cast a very knowing glance at Lord Kang, who was dancing with Mrs. Jung’s daughter. At the end of the conversation, as she turned away, you could have sworn she muttered something along the lines of not meddling in affairs of the heart, but over the low din of the party, you couldn’t be sure. 

On paper, the marquess might be a better match than Lord Kang. A higher title. More land. More riches. But even knowing this, even knowing that the queen approves, you can’t quite bring yourself to see him the way you see Lord Kang.

Affairs of the heart, indeed. You stare at a knot of wood in the ceiling without really seeing it. You’re not sure you love Lord Kang. You’re not sure he loves you either. But you certainly like him, and you don’t think you’re wallowing in delusion when you fancy he likes you as well. You’ve only known each other for a couple of months—you don’t think anyone could truly fall in love so soon, no matter what people say about love matches. But with Lord Kang, at least you can envision the love further along in the future. 

There isn’t even a chance of that with some of your other suitors. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. For all you love piano, you wish you hadn’t been playing the night the queen walked in on your performance. You would still have to sit through calling hour, would still have to make small talk in the ballroom, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much as it is now. Your aunt and father’s approval doesn’t make up for how much your head hurts after you return from social engagements every night. 

And you’d probably get to see Lord Kang more. 

You remember the queen’s ball, when Lord Kang asked if you’d like to get refreshment with him just before the queen introduced you to the marquess. If he’d asked a moment earlier, you wonder if you’d have managed to escape the queen’s notice and been able to spend just a few minutes more with him. Probably not—the queen has eyes like a hawk and would have caught you anyway. Still, though, you wonder. And a treacherous part of you likes to imagine what would have happened if the queen wasn’t there. If you and Lord Kang could have found yourselves by the tables of refreshments, laughing and talking with no one to take either of you away. 

Unlikely. But you wish for it all the same. 

A knock sounds at your door. You bolt upright and wince when your temples twinge in protest. It’s only one of the servants, though. 

“My lady.” She curtsies slightly. “Your aunt bids that the two of you leave soon for your appointment at the modiste.”

Ugh. You’d almost forgotten about that. You give her a tired nod. “Tell her I will be ready shortly.”

. . .

Dresses are nice. Clothes are nice. You don’t mind the modiste, not with its arrays of silks and satins and ribbons that dazzle the eye, not with how nice and how accommodating Madame Delacroix is to everyone in her shop. But today you’re tired and just want to be lying down at home, and you could very much do without your aunt hovering around your fittings and inserting her opinion every time Madame Delacroix so much as moves a pin. 

There are a number of other ladies and their mothers in the shop so you let your mind fade into their buzz of chatter and laughter. A few of the voices you recognize—Mrs. Jung and her shy second daughter looking for new ribbons, the soon-to-be Lady Julia Kingsley shopping for the fabric for her wedding gown—but even though the girls are nice you hope they don’t notice you’re there as you slip out of your nearly-finished gowns as quietly as you can. On any other day you would be happy to chat with them. Right now you just want to go home. 

But someone calls your name as you’re exiting the modiste. You have just enough sense not to curse out loud because your aunt is right next to you and you’re in public, but you’re not sure you manage to wipe the entire grimace off your face before you turn around. You pray that surprise replaced your previous expression before your caller saw it, and it seems it did, because the Duchess of Hastings only gives you a bright smile before walking quickly over to catch up with you. 

“Miss L/N!” she exclaims once she’s close enough. “Lady Taylor,” she then greets your aunt, with much more solemnity. “It is lovely to see the two of you in town today.”

“And you too,” you reply, and you’re only half lying. You’ve seen the duchess a few times since that first gathering, and each time you speak you leave the conversation smiling. If you were to have to speak to anyone at the tail end of this very exhausting day, you’re glad it was her. “Did you have business here? We just left the modiste.”

“Oh, His Grace and I came into town to meet with his solicitor for a few things,” she says. “I didn’t feel I was needed for the last few meetings, so I thought I would walk the streets for some time before meeting him at home.” You reach Gunter’s dessert shop and the duchess stops. “Shall we stop for some ices? They can be most refreshing after a long day.”

As the duchess leads you into the shop, you think wryly that you probably weren’t hiding your exhaustion as well as you thought. 

She’s right. Sitting in the shop with a small cup of dessert, flavored ice cooling your tongue, you feel a bit of the pressure easing away from your temples. If the duchess notices you relaxing, she doesn’t say anything of it—at least until she asks about your season, and if anyone has caught your eye just yet. She has a strange, somewhat knowing expression on her face, but you try to pay it no mind as you answer. 

“The dancing is nice,” you say truthfully, but meaningfully. 

The duchess snickers in a way that is distinctly unladylike but even though you can see your aunt’s face scrunching up in the corner, that snicker allows you to smile. “Is anything else about it nice?” she asks.

You pause before answering with a question. “You were the diamond of your season, were you not?” She nods. “How did you find it, may I ask?”

“I enjoyed it,” she replies, and your heart sinks. “I quite like meeting new people, and it is a great honor to be chosen by the queen. Though it perhaps made a difference that there wasn’t anybody…meddling, I suppose, in my options for marriage.” 

You blink. “The queen did not seek to introduce you to anybody?”

She shakes her head. “I was already being courted by one of the most eligible bachelors of the ton, not even the season. I don’t suppose Her Majesty found it her prerogative to try and find me someone else.”

Annoyance and anger, not at the duchess, but at the queen herself, rises in your throat so quickly it surprises you. Where did this come from? You stare into the melting remains of your ice, its syrup suddenly cloyingly sweet on your tongue. The duchess said the queen didn’t find it her prerogative to interfere in her courtship. So why does she find it necessary for you?

Because she doesn’t think Lord Kang is good enough. 

Ah. There it is. The anger—the annoyance that the queen would deem Lord Kang, one of the best men you’ve met this entire season, unworthy of you. That she would not trust you to make the decision on your own, and must prod you in different directions like a doll in her playhouse. Quite like your father and aunt. Quite like the other men who have been calling on you these past few weeks. 

You’re so damn tired of people thinking they know best for you. 

“I don’t think I should have been the diamond,” you say quietly, so that only the duchess hears you. “Not for my talent or hard work. The thing is, I’m a quiet person, Your Grace. I am not really a sociable person. I am not very good at conversing. I just don’t…enjoy the social season the way other people do.” You look up from your ice to see the duchess gazing back at you thoughtfully. “Many of the other ladies of the season are as talented and hardworking as I, only in other spheres, and would likely be far more receptive than I to the…maneuverings, if you will, of our queen.”

The duchess remains silent. 

You start to panic. “I do not mean that I am ungrateful for Her Majesty’s approval. It is an honor. I only—”

“Miss L/N. Y/N.” The duchess takes your hands across the table. “May I call you that?”

Dumbly, you nod. 

“Excellent. You must call me by my name, then.” She smiles and your heart, which had been beating a little too fast, starts to slow down. “As friends.”

Slowly you nod again. 

“The season is not enjoyable for everyone,” she states. “You are none the worse for feeling that way. I had moments in my season that I did not like. And I can fully understand how, for someone of a more introverted nature, it might be more of a chore than is usually expected.” She leans a little over the table, still holding your hands. “But I will say this to you. You are the diamond, Y/N. And while this means people are watching you, it also means that you have some measure of freedom to act as you like. Refuse dances from those with whom you don’t wish to dance. Only accept as many dances as you need. And if you can, try to ignore those who would meddle in your affairs for their own gain. You are the diamond. You can afford to do these things more than others can.” The duchess squeezes your hands. “You know yourself better than anyone, your wants and desires. You should be in control of those. No one else.”

Stupidly, you feel tears welling up in your eyes. You blink them away as much as you can. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Oh, come now.” The duchess laughs. “Call me by my name. We are friends, are we not?”

You give her a watery smile in return. “Yes, we are.” Taking a shaky breath, you brush away a tear as discreetly as you can. “Thank you. I’m not the most upfront person, even with myself. I…I needed that.”

“You’re most welcome,” she replies warmly. “If I may I ask…”

You blink. “Yes?”

“You have someone in mind, don’t you?”

Your cheeks suddenly feel hot. “…Yes.”

“Is it Lord Kang?”

Now you think you understand the knowing look the duchess had in her eye earlier. “How long have you known?”

“Known? Only since now.” Her eyes crinkle with teasing mischief. “But I suspected as much at my gathering. You two were so engrossed in conversation, I couldn’t help but notice.” Oblivious to your embarrassment, she continues. “And if I remember correctly, he danced with you twice at the queen’s ball, no?”

“He did.” And a wonderful two dances those were.

The duchess eyes you like she can hear your thoughts. Honestly, she very well might—she’s incredibly perceptive. “He’s a good man, Y/N. A very good one.” She pauses a moment, as though weighing her next words. “I was not the most receptive to him, not at first.” Her smile turns a little painful as she looks into cup. “My father died very suddenly and without an heir. When I found out the estate was to pass to Lord Kang—someone I had never known, inheriting the only home I had ever known—to be frank, I was very angry.” She shakes her head. “My whole life was in that estate. My best memories were there, in my father’s library.” 

You listen, rapt. 

“But Lord Kang is a kind man. He was a kind man even when I was angry with him, unjustifiably. After all, he was as confused and bewildered by the entire situation as I was. But when he learned of my love for literature, and my sorrow at having lost my father’s library to the estate he now owns, he offered me free use of the library. We send books back and forth now, and he takes my recommendations just as I take his.” The duchess raises her head, and the smile on her lips seems to bring joy to the entire shop. “He is a very good friend, and I think he would be very good with you.”

Your throat feels too tight to speak. “Thank you,” is all you manage to say in reply. 

“Of course.” She motions to your empty cups. “Shall we have these taken away?”

A worker whisks away your empty cups, and after you pay for your treats, the duchess walks you outside. Once on the street, she takes your hands again and smiles. “Be brave, Y/N,” she says, looking at you with such sincerity you almost want to cry again. “You deserve good things. But you must come to take them for yourself.”

. . . . .

Yeonjun has just poured everyone a drink when the duchess comes sweeping in with the wind, full of apologies for being late. “I deeply apologize,” she says again, kissing Yeonjun lightly on the cheek before sitting next to him. “I hope Yeonjun hasn’t already bored you all to death.”

Everyone except Yeonjun laughs, Beomgyu’s cackle the loudest of all. Taehyun smiles over his drink as the duke pouts deeply, regaining his smile only when his wife whispers something in his ear. “Is everything all right?” he asks as the laughter subsides. “You didn’t have any trouble in town, did you?”

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head. “I just ran into someone and we spent a little too long catching up, I suppose.” The duchess looks at Taehyun meaningfully, and he only has a second to wonder why before she continues. “Miss L/N was just leaving the modiste, and we went to Gunter’s for ices after. I lost track of time.”

Miss L/N?

“You look remarkably unruffled for one who is so late,” Beomgyu points out, and Taehyun forces all thoughts of you out of his brain to focus on the conversation. 

“Perhaps because I knew you would be here,” she shoots back, which sends everyone into laughter again. “Anyhow, I’m sure you all are curious as to why Yeonjun and I invited you here today.”

“You’re making me nervous,” Kai mutters.

Yeonjun laughs, though there’s a strange edge to it. Taehyun can’t quite tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. “Well…” he starts, then turns to his wife. “Do you want to say it?” he murmurs. 

“I can.” She takes a deep breath before a glowing smile spreads across her lips. “I am with child.”

For a moment, the room remains dead silent. Taehyun himself can hardly believe his ears. Then he’s grinning, and so is everyone else, and the silence explodes into cheers and cries of congratulations and he’s hugging first the duke, then the duchess, and in this moment, the whole world feels perfect. Nothing could be better right now—nothing could beat the happiness he feels right now for his two good friends. 

“Congratulations,” Taehyun says again when the celebration has died down. His voice feels thick—he can hardly speak through the emotion filling his throat. “How long have you two known?”

“The doctor confirmed last week,” Yeonjun says, smiling down at his wife with so much love in his eyes it almost hurts. “We told our mothers the day after.”

“Well, now I know why you only invited us tonight,” Lady Choi says, her eyes sparkling. Next to her, her husband, Soobin, can’t seem to keep his own grin off his face. “You don’t want the entire ton knowing too soon, do you?”

“Not just yet.” The duchess shakes her head. “We plan to keep it out of Whistledown for some time.”

Several more rounds of congratulations follow, and by then they’ve all finished their drinks and are heading into the dining room. It’s a small group—just him, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Kai, Soobin, and their wives—so they don’t observe the usual formalities, just sit down around the table laughing and chatting as one. The meal is filled with so much gaiety that he nearly forgets the duchess’s strange look earlier just before she mentioned your name. But as the dinner winds to a close, he remembers, and he can’t help but wonder what you and the duchess talked about. He won’t ask, of course, and he doesn’t even know if you talked about him, but the irrational part of him wants to know anyway.

Finally, after the meal, they all retire to the drawing room, where Lady Choi starts telling a story about Soobin that has his face turning red and the rest of them laughing. Partway through, Taehyun goes to pour himself a drink, only to look up and see the duchess standing next to him. 

He motions to the bottle. “Would you like a drink?” Then he remembers. “Oh, I don’t suppose you would.”

She smiles. “Not alcohol, though I would not say no to the lemonade. Thank you.” While a chorus of laughter sounds in the background, she and Taehyun raise their glasses with a smile. She takes a sip, then looks at him directly. “I saw Miss L/N earlier, you know.”

His heart, cliché as it sounds, skips a beat. “You mentioned, yes.”

For a moment, the duchess remains silent, her lips pursed as though contemplating her next words carefully. “Can we be honest, Taehyun?” she finally asks. 

He blinks. “Of course.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t proposed to her yet?”

Taehyun almost chokes on his drink. “What—” 

“I’m not trying to interrogate you,” the duchess says wryly. “Don’t look so frightened.”

“I’m not frightened.” Taehyun clears his throat, praying he doesn’t look too embarrassed. “But…why do you ask?”

“The season is almost halfway over,” she states matter-of-factly. “She is the diamond, and she clearly likes you. You danced with her twice at the queen’s ball, which is tantamount to declaring your intentions to the entire ton. What, now, is stopping you from asking for her hand?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. He can already feel an excuse on the tip of his tongue—it has still only been three months, I’m not sure how she feels, I don’t know if she even wants me—but those would all be lies. Distractions, at least, from the full truth. The duchess bade him to be honest, and he won’t disrespect her by acting otherwise. 

“She is a quiet woman,” he says slowly. “And I do not want to come onto her too strongly. I know that people have married in less time than we’ve known each other, but while we get along very well, I suppose I wanted to…make certain that she would do well with me, and that I would do well with her, should we be married.”

The duchess nods slowly. “I understand this,” she says, “but you are a man who knows what he wants, and when you want something, you seek it out.” She pauses. “Why do you wait so long to seek her?”

His first response is I do. But even though that is true, over the past weeks… “The queen does not approve of me.” He says this with certainty, a bitter taste filling his mouth. “You must know this. She believes her diamond to be fit for a marquess, not an earl like I. And, truth be told…” Taehyun sighs. “I would like to at least allow her to make the decision. The Marquess of Schannon has a higher title, owns more land and has much greater wealth than I. He could provide for her much better than I.”

“But you are not the one who should make that decision for her.”

Taehyun gapes at the duchess’s sharp tone. Her eyes soften, but her voice remains as steady as before. “My marriage to Yeonjun did not thrive only because he could provide for me,” she says quietly. “It became what it is now because we got along, because we could laugh with and at one another, because we can be free with each other. I do not think that Miss L/N is the type of woman to value wealth and security over her own freedom, and I implore you not to dishonor her by thinking otherwise.”

“Of course not!” Taehyun snaps. “I just…” He swallows, and his entire throat tastes bitter. “I want to be enough for her.”

“I understand.” The duchess smiles. “You want to be the best man to her that you can be. But trust me when I say that your worth in her life—or in anyone’s life—is not defined by the gold you bring to the table. You and your character are what she will fall in love with. Not your money.”

Taehyun’s cheeks burn.

From the twinkle in the duchess’s eye, she definitely notices, but thankfully she says nothing of it. “Talk to her, Taehyun,” she says softly. “I think you will find she likes you far more than even you expect.”

. . . . .

When you wake up the next morning, you don’t bother to stifle a groan when you remember you’re to be entertaining callers again today. Then you remember that your governess is supposed to tell your aunt that you are horrifically ill, and your earlier dread quickly turns into relief as you pull your covers over your head again, rumpling your sheets and pillows. Your aunt will probably poke into your room to check if you’re actually ill, and you need to look the part. 

The servants come to dress you for the day. When they can’t get you to roll out of bed, they send for your governess, who gives you a rather anxious look before calling for your aunt, as you expected. You hear them coming back to your room together, just as you expected, but perhaps the prospect of speaking to near-strangers for an entire afternoon has you looking grimmer than you thought because she backs out of the room rather quickly without much need for explanation. 

Under your covers, you breathe a sigh of relief. Yesterday, the duchess said to be brave, and not force yourself to endure or take anything you don’t want. You plan to take her up on her advice, but not now. Being brave can wait another day. 

You spend the morning in a blissful haze, drifting in and out of sleep without anyone coming to bother you. Your governess comes in for a moment to tell you all your engagements for the day have been cancelled, which puts you in an even better mood. The day is marred somewhat by the arrival of a truly vile-looking tonic from the cook along with your lunch that she swears will have you feeling better in no time, but you manage to dump it out of your window before the servants return to take your tray away. You settle back into bed with one of the books Taehyun lent you and happily resign yourself to a quiet, uninterrupted afternoon. 

A few hours later, rapid footsteps sound in the hall just outside your room and you quickly put the book away, sliding under your covers and shutting your eyes. Several frantic knocks sound at your door. You wait a moment before groaning, “Come in.”

Maybe you should’ve taken up a career in acting instead of music. 

To your relief, it’s only your governess, who looks oddly excited. You push yourself up in bed with a questioning frown. “What is it?” Then you see she’s holding something, too. “What is that?”

She hands you a card, then places a lovely bouquet of flowers on your nightstand. “Read it,” she says, but your eyes have already latched onto the name etched elegantly into the center of the calling card, and the familiar handwriting on the back. 

Miss L/N—

I apologize for having to write this simple card instead of calling on you in person—I have had sudden business to take care of that kept me busy all of calling hour, or I would have come earlier. In the absence of being able to speak today, I wonder if you would promenade with me in Hyde Park tomorrow? I should like to see you again, and I have some things I would like to ask you, if I may. 

And then, an addendum in a script considerably messier than the rest, indicating some haste with which it was written—

Your governess has just informed me that you are ill. If you are still feeling ill tomorrow, please do not feel obligated to join me—we will simply find another time and place, should you be willing. Do feel better soon, my lady. I pray for your rapid recovery.

You look at your governess. “I will be recovered tomorrow,” you say, trying and failing to hide your growing smile. “In the morning, please send a note to Lord Kang informing him of my intention to join him at the park.”

Your governess smiles back, just as brightly. “As you wish, my lady.”

. . . . .

The afternoon is lovely, the sun golden and warm and only a few clouds drifting lazily across the sky, but everything seems to become a little brighter when Taehyun catches your eye across the park. He speeds up his steps, trying to rein in his own smile as he walks up to you over the green. “Miss L/N,” he greets, holding out his arm. “How are you? I hope you are not still feeling ill.”

“Not at all, thankfully.” You smile with all the warmth of the sun. “I can’t imagine what overtook me yesterday, but I am feeling much better today. In any case, it is good to see you too.” 

The two of you make small chatter as you start on the winding path around the park. Many people are out today, and between you, the sunlight, and their infectious cheer, Taehyun stops trying to rein in his smile and just lets it spread wide across his lips. When you reach a small grove of trees, though, you turn to him with a somewhat more serious expression upon your face. “In your note, you mentioned you had some things about which you wanted to discuss with me, my lord,” you say. “Might I ask what you wanted to say?”

“And if I just wanted to speak to you again after not having seen you for a good number of days?” he teases, heart melting with fondness when you turn away, clearly shy. “I jest, though it is true that I very much wanted to see you,” he continues more seriously. “I suppose I wanted to...” He swallows, then just decides to say it before he gets too scared to. “What are your thoughts on marriage?”

For a long moment, you don’t reply. For all Taehyun tries not to show his anxiety he’s not too certain he’s succeeding, especially when you look back at him. “To anyone?” you finally ask. 

The forthrightness of your question stuns him for a moment. In the time he’s known you, you’ve always been quiet, somewhat shy—he would not have expected such a question from you. But then he remembers you are also honest and very much in control of your own mind, and suddenly the question is not so surprising. 

You are honest with him. Taehyun will not disrespect you with a dishonest response. “To anyone,” he says truthfully, heart pounding. “But I would not mind a response specific to me.”

Your little laugh settles some of the anxiety threatening to burst from his chest. “To you, I would view marriage quite favorably.” You smile, and between your words and the light dappling through the trees onto your face and figure, Taehyun has to catch his breath. “Though to anyone else, the answer would be the opposite.”

Relief threatens to choke up his throat before he can reply. He truly hadn’t realized he was so nervous until you answered him favorably. “Might I ask why?” he asks quietly. 

You look up at the trees, at the sunlight peeking through the leaves. “When I returned to London, I didn’t know if I wanted to marry. I spent so long abroad, alone with only the piano as any real constant in my life, and the way everyone spoke of marriage, it seemed like it was a given that I should give up my passion for music in exchange for the hand of someone I didn’t even know yet.” Your lips turn up in a wry little smile. “I considered just trying to reach the age of a spinster, you know. In that case my father might send me back to the continent, and without the pressure of being a young lady of marriageable age, I might earn some money performing again, and at least I might see my dowry then.”

Taehyun frowns. “Your dowry?”

Your expression twists somewhat bitterly. “My father took my performance earnings for my dowry.”

“That…” Taehyun shakes his head, at a loss for words. “You earned that income yourself, so it should be yours, no?”

“That is what I thought as well,” you reply, your dry tone hardly managing to disguise the annoyance of your words. “So you see, then, why I did not quite view marriage through a favorable lens at first.”

Taehyun swallows. “What made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath. “Not much, at first,” you say lowly. “I wanted respect in marriage. It does not seem like it should be such a difficult thing for which to ask. But as I went through the season, I realized…apparently it is quite a task.” You shake your head. “There were so many with whom I spoke—so many who had already planned a future out for them and their unknown wives. It was so strange. They would just talk at me, saying all these things, and never even asked what I wanted.” 

Inwardly, Taehyun feels a little sick. He knows many of the young men in the ton, and likely some of them are included in those who spoke to you this way. The season is difficult for debutantes—that’s no secret—but even though he knows that…he didn’t really. Not until you just said it out loud. To be dehumanized in this way, and spoken to like an object. “I’m sorry,” he says lamely. 

“Don’t apologize.” You wave his words away. “You are one of the few who never condescended to me in such a fashion, you have nothing to apologize for.” You look up at him with a small smile. It eases some of his guilt. “I also do not doubt I wasn’t a stunning conversationalist, given that I do not quite enjoy speaking with strangers, though I will not take all the blame for that. I mean, I was once asked what makes me tick.” You laugh helplessly. “I don’t even know what that means.” 

Taehyun makes a face. Tick? “I don’t either.” 

“The season is what it is.” You’ve reached the edge of the trees, stepping back into the full sunshine. “I gather that all the men and women are used to this sort of thing. And, well—perhaps if I had been raised to believe I would one day command an entire estate and everyone in it, I might think the same way as many of those who wished to ask for my suit. Most of them weren’t unkind, after all.” You cast your eyes downward, fidgeting with your dress. “Just…”

“You give them too much credit,” Taehyun says quietly. “None of the things you’ve mentioned would give anyone the privilege not to extend respect to others.”

You nod slightly, still looking down. “I think,” you finally say, “from the beginning, I decided that if I was to marry anyone, I would need my own freedom to play the piano, and in general to have my own passions. I will not give up music for anything, my lord. It has kept me sane all these years. My cousins will tease that I am married to the piano and while it is an overwrought joke, there is some truth to it.” You look up again, meeting his eyes directly. “Very few people have truly respected my passions for what they are to me. In marriage, I will not bring yet another person into my life to clip my wings.”

Taehyun considers his next words carefully. “If you were guaranteed your freedom, then, would you still marry someone?”

“Yes,” you reply immediately. “Because if that person would guarantee my freedom, I would know that they cared for me enough that they wouldn’t clip my wings in a way that would hurt me.”

For a few moments the two of you walk in silence. You’ve been at the park for some time, now—the sun is beginning to sink a little lower, the edges of the sky fading from blue to a pale pink. Taehyun looks at you and, against his will, doubt wells in his chest. He respects you, respects you so much—as a musician, as a woman, as a person who has come into his life and for whom he’s grown to care very much. But will that be enough? You deserve only the best of the things in the world. While well-off, Taehyun isn’t the wealthiest in town. Others, materially, could provide for you better. Could give you all the lovely things you deserve. 

But you are not the one who should make that decision for her.

The voice of the duchess rings through Taehyun’s mind and he swallows hard. Right. He will not cut his own suit short for fear that he may not be enough. If you have seen something in him to love, all he can do is strive every day to provide you with happiness. 

It is the least you deserve.

“I plan to call on your father in the next few days,” he says quietly. “To ask for his permission to propose to you.” Out of the corner of his eye you turn to look at him, and even though his heart is beating faster than it ever has before, he forces himself to meet your gaze. “Would you be amenable—”

“Yes!” The word bursts from your lips, cutting off his question. You look supremely embarrassed for a moment and Taehyun can’t hide his own smile at your adorable expression, but you don’t back down. “Yes, Lord Kang,” you repeat, considerably more calmly. “I would be.”

Taehyun takes a deep breath and tries not to show all the butterflies fluttering about in his own stomach. “Thank goodness,” he says, praying his voice isn’t trembling. He laughs a little. “You don’t know how nervous I was to ask that.”

Your eyes crinkle into a smile brighter than the setting sun. “You did a wonderful job of hiding it.”

Taehyun doesn’t really know how he gets through the rest of your walk. He says many things and so do you, but by the time the sun has finally sunk too low to ignore and you’ve circled the park at least three times, his mind is still just a blur of she said yes she said yes she said yes. “I will leave you here tonight, my lady,” he says when it comes time to part ways. “I do hope I will see you soon.”

“You will,” you reply. And as Taehyun is parsing your bold response, in full view of the ton, you take a deep breath of your own, looking him straight in the eye with a little smile. “After all, my lord, you must still call on me so that I might return your books, no?”

Half of the ton looks at you. Half of the ton looks at him. Taehyun himself has to take a moment to grapple with the implications of your deceptively innocent question—the public declaration that you have seen each other often enough to speak like this, that you have exchanged gifts beyond the typical flowers and jewels, that you are close enough to demand that he come to see you and not the other way around. 

That he has not just chosen to court him, but that you have chosen him as your suitor, as well.

All of this has his head spinning though not necessarily in a bad way, and throughout all this your eyes have remained steadily on his, twinkling in the remnants of sunlight. Taehyun’s cheeks are warm with the attention but, he decides, two can play this game. “Taehyun,” he says, smiling when you cock your head in confusion. “If I am to see you again, you must call me by my name. Not ‘my lord.’ Not ‘Lord Kang.’” He takes your hand. “Taehyun.”

You look down at your joined hands, then up at him. And in that moment, with the pink light of sunset glowing around your figure and the shy smile curving your lips as comprehension dawns on your face, Taehyun really wants to kiss you. He abstains because kissing in full view of the ton when you’re not even married is probably a step too far for both of you, but nonetheless, he still wishes. “Taehyun,” he murmurs. “None of the ‘my lord’ nonsense.”

Your laugh carries on the wind, a warm, sweet melody to his ears. “If you are Taehyun, then I am Y/N.” Your eyes sparkle, either oblivious or far too discerning as to how much he enjoyed hearing his name from your lips. “A fair trade, no?”

“Very fair, Miss—” He catches himself, smiling. “Y/N.” Lifting your hand to his lips, he kisses it softly, just as he always has before. “Take care, Y/N. I will see you soon.”

. . . . .

The next morning, you’re at your piano, squinting at a new piece of music when a knock sounds at the door. “Come in,” you say absently, still eyeing the difficult passage your fingers just can’t seem to get right.

“Miss L/N.” One of the servants steps in. “Your father would like to see you.”

Your hand freezes in the air. “My father?”

The servant leads you down the halls in silence, leaving your mind to wonder about all manner of things that your father could have called you for. He rarely summons you for—well, anything. Most of the time you barely catch a glimpse of him before the day is over. The only thing you can think of is Lord Kang—Taehyun— coming to propose his suit, and he said that he would come in the next few days, not—

You come to a stop in front of your father’s office, eyes wide. Would he truly have come so soon?

The servant knocks for you. When your father’s voice bids you come in, you’re still rattled enough by the thought that it takes you a moment to step through the door. 

You curtsy, if a little lamely. “Father.”

“Y/N.” He gestures to the seat in front of his desk. “Sit down.”

You sit. 

The time you sit in silence cannot have been more than a few seconds. Half a minute, at most. But with every tick of the clock you find it harder and harder not to fidget in this seat until your finger catches on a loose string of your dress and you give in to the urge to fiddle with it. Anything to keep you occupied as the silence stretches longer and longer. 

Finally, your father opens his mouth to speak. “Lord Kang came by just now. The Earl of Addiston.”

Your heart skips at least three beats and you feel a warmth emanating from your chest, spreading slowly through the rest of your body. “I see.”

“He asked for my permission to propose to you.”

Giddy excitement threatens to show itself on your face. You force your expression to remain still. “Did you consent?”

Your father looks at you long and hard. “Do you wish to marry him?”

Frustration and annoyance threaten to color your features, but you’ve remained quiet and placid for so many years that you manage to stop it from showing. What exactly does he want from you? Did he say yes, or did he say no? Why does he want to know if you would accept Taehyun’s suit? What does it matter to him? Then a terrible thought occurs to you. 

What if he already said no? 

Breathe. You force yourself to inhale. Exhale. You let go of the stray thread on your dress. “Did you consent?”

Your father’s eyes grow hard. “I asked you a question.”

“As did I.” You swallow hard. “And might I remind you, I asked it first.”

Your father is looking at you like he doesn’t quite know you. Which, you suppose, is true. He never really did. Never really cared to in the first place. But to be fair, you’ve never acted this way to him—or to anyone in the household, really—until today. 

Unfortunately, you are still a quiet person, cowed in your father’s presence, so after too many seconds of silence pass you finally reply. “But if you must know, yes. If he proposed, I would marry him.” 

Tension slowly fills the air the longer you look at your father. He must have realized what you said—or what you didn’tsay, really. If he proposed, I would marry him. Not if you consented, I would marry him. 

Subtle differences. But while you don’t necessarily enjoy the social season, you’ve been around enough to pick up on just how much subtlety can convey. 

“I asked if you wanted to marry him,” your father finally says. “Not if you would.”

You grit your teeth. What exactly is he playing at? “The answer to that is yes as well.”

He folds his hands. Leans back in his chair. Looks at you unflinchingly. You try to do the same even though it’s getting harder to control your expression. “I gave my consent,” he finally says, apparently oblivious to you doing your absolute best not to slump over in relief. “But he is an earl, daughter. Your Aunt Taylor tells me you have other suitors. Would you not want a marquess?”

It takes everything in you not to laugh. To not even scoff. “Father,” you say slowly, “trust me when I say I will not be receiving a proposal from a marquess this season.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not the Marquess of Schannon?”

“Marquess Yang is a good man,” you say. “But I do not believe I am what he is looking for in a wife.”

“You are the diamond,” your father presses. “What else could he want in a wife?”

Good lord. How did your mother marry this man? “A connection, perhaps.” You try not to sound too sarcastic. “Someone he could care about and be a good partner to.”

He shakes his head. “You do not want a marquess?”

You sigh. “Father, if Lord Kang was a marquess, I would want a marquess. If he was a viscount, I would want a viscount.” Finally, you let some of your annoyance bleed through your tone. “I would marry Lord Kang, whatever title he had. I like him, Father, and if he wishes to have me, I will have him.”

Your father sighs. “Well, his estate is certainly large, and he is of good lineage.” As if those were the reasons you want to marry him. “I will approve this match, daughter, if it makes you happy.”

If it makes you happy. You almost snort, but instead you school features into neutrality. “Thank you, Father.” And as soon as you can after that, you leave the room. 

You run into your governess just down the corridor. But while you have to skid to a stop to avoid her, it looks like she’s been expecting you. “My lady,” she says breathlessly. “Lord Kang is in the drawing room, waiting for you.”

Your mind goes blank. Your governess takes the opportunity to start pushing you toward the stairs. 

Just outside the drawing room, you have to stop in order to take a few breaths. For some reason, even though you know what’s going to happen, your heart is beating like no tomorrow. Steadying yourself, you look up to the ceiling and say a quick prayer before stepping into the room. 

Lord Kang—Taehyun—turns around the moment you walk in and immediately his smile spreads wide across his face, more welcome and beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen. “My lady,” he says, bowing to your curtsy. There is a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “How are you this morning?”

“I thought I told you to call me by my name,” you say, not bothering to hide your own smile. “Oh, thank you.” You take the flowers he’s extending to you, suddenly feeling very shy. 

“Forgive me. Y/N.” His eyes grow softer, a sweet laugh escaping his lips. “I spoke to your father earlier.”

“I know.” You sit on the couch and he follows suit. Your governess makes to take the flowers, probably to put them in a vase somewhere, but you wave her off. You need something to hold or you’ll get too nervous and start fidgeting, and besides, they’re pretty. “He spoke to me just now. Though I must confess, I did not expect you to come so soon.” 

“Why wait?” Taehyun’s quips back, the corners of his lips quirking up. “I suppose, then, that you know what I came here to do.” He takes a deep breath, and out of the corner of your eye, you see your governess slipping out of the room. 

“You said you would need respect in marriage,” Taehyun says quietly. “Freedom, to pursue your own passions. I know you already said that you would view marriage favorably with me, but I wanted to make it known that I have always had, and always will have, an incredible amount of respect for you and your work, and that I would never deliberately endeavor to wrench you from it.” He tilts his head slightly. “And if I ever do so unintentionally, I beg that you tell me immediately so that I might rectify my mistake.”

You nod slowly, your heart full to bursting already. 

“In return, I only ask that you allow me the same respect. Not that you have ever given me a reason to assume you would otherwise.” His eyes crinkle with his smile. “And, if I may, Y/N…I do not know much of the love that which poets speak of, but even if I do not love you know given it has only been a few months since our meeting, I do believe that love will come very easily with you.”

Throat full of emotion, all you can do is nod. “And I, you,” you whisper, hardly able to breathe.

Taehyun pulls a small box out of his pocket. Eyes never leaving yours, he opens it, revealing a lovely ring inside. 

The breaths you couldn’t take lodges in your throat. You almost choke. Despite your ungainly behavior, the ring sparkles cheerfully in the morning sunshine, a simple band of gold set with a pearl, surrounded by tiny diamonds that throw light onto your face. “It’s beautiful,” you get out when you finally regain your voice. 

“There are several betrothal rings in my family’s collection, but I thought this one would suit you best,” Taehyun says. He looks at you so very softly, so very gently. “It’s yours if you would like to have it.”

There might be tears in your eyes, but you force them back as you nod once, twice. “I would,” you barely manage to whisper. 

You aren’t wearing gloves, so when Taehyun takes your hand this time, you almost jolt with the sensation of his warm skin against yours. He slides the ring onto your finger but doesn’t let go of your hand, even as the two of you admire it in the sunlight. “It’s lovely,” you breathe. 

Taehyun smiles. “I would say the hand,” he replies gently. 

You have the sudden realization that if you are to live the rest of your life with quiet compliments such as this, you might not survive more than few more years before you melt into a puddle on the ground. 

“I will call the banns for us,” Taehyun continues, as if he hadn’t just floored you with five simple words. “We can be married as soon as is comfortable. And as for your dowry, it’s yours to spend as you wish.” He laughs at your dumbfounded state. “I won’t touch a penny—” 

Before even you know what you’re doing, you’ve cut Taehyun off by wrapping your arms around him, pulling him to you in a warm embrace. The tears you tried to hold back have begun to fall and you’re well aware of how improper this is, but you couldn’t help it. “Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you, Taehyun.”

His own arms settle around you, warmly, gently. “Of course, Y/N,” he murmurs, his words ghosting softly past your ear. “For you, always.”

. . . . .

epilogue.

Since you were young, you’ve grown used to rising early. Reading or practicing as the sun peeks over the horizon is incredibly calming, and it always sets the tone well for what you must do the rest of the day. 

The first few days after your wedding, though, every morning you remain in bed long after your usual waking time. Not least because the night’s exertions exhaust you, but it’s so wonderful to wake up in your husband’s arms, soft rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains and falling onto his face. Taehyun has always been handsome, but you think that he looks best in the morning light, his eyes softly closed, all the worries drained away from his face in slumber. 

After a week, though, you find yourself awake at your typical time, mind itching to return to your routine. You lie in bed for a few minutes longer with your eyes closed, but when sleep doesn’t overtake you again, you give in to the restless urge and slip out of the sheets as quietly as you can. Taehyun shifts a little in his sleep and you waver in your decision, but he eventually stills, breaths evening again. After kissing his forehead softly, you pad out of the room.

In the music room, you pull out a quiet sonata with which to accompany the rising sun. And as your fingers slowly dance over the keys, grey light turning pink through the window, your mind settles and so does your heart, an unconscious smile drifting over your lips. 

The door opens after some time. You look up at the creaking sound, letting the music fade away. In the doorway stands your husband dressed somewhat haphazardly, his hair still half a mess, sleep still evident in his eyes. He looks rather adorable. 

“Good morning,” you say, not even trying to hide your smile. “Is something wrong?”

“I woke up,” he mumbles back. “You weren’t there.” His eyes open a little more, a small, wry smile playing on his lips. “You’re an early riser.”

“I have been since I was young.” You make to rise but Taehyun waves you back down, instead coming to sit next to you on the piano bench. “I tried not to wake you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He lets his head fall onto your shoulder and his nose pokes right into the crook of your neck, right where you remember seeing a small red bruise from last night. You make a small noise but instead of moving away he just turns his head and kisses it. 

Heat floods your body. “Taehyun,” you hiss. 

“Y/N,” he says back, and even though you can’t really see his face you know he must be smiling. “Come back to bed. We’re still on our honeymoon.”

You laugh softly. “I won’t be able to sleep.”

“We don’t have to sleep,” he murmurs in reply, nipping lightly at the bruise. You hiss and swat at him but he easily dodges with a laugh. “Please, Y/N. Just a few hours more.”

You have known this man for just five months, been married to him barely a week, but already you’re completely weak to him and his large eyes. Though you try to suppress it, your smile grows wider as you finally acquiesce. “Let me finish playing through this,” you compromise, gesturing to the piano, “and then we can go.”

“Perfect.” Taehyun kisses you softly. “I love you.”

Your breath catches, just as it has every time he’s said those three words since the first night of your marriage. And as pink sunlight settles in the room, lighting on his face and yours, you give in to the melody singing in your heart and kiss him back. “I love you too.”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

[avelera]

What if Louis/Armand in AMC IWTV is meant to be torture... for Lestat?

Basically... what if the whole relationship between Louis and Armand, going back to when Armand first encountered him, is a deliberate "fuck you" to Lestat by Armand, and that is his chief motive for having the relationship at all? For keeping Louis in a gilded prison, for making Louis his love at all, for allowing the interview, and for little things like telling Lestat that Louis was injured, but not telling him where or how to help or passing on the "I love you" to Louis, and perhaps effectively keeping Louis away from Lestat ever since in a game of keep-away, as the most effective way to torture Lestat that Armand has in his possession.

I want to preface this theory by saying it's probably a bridge too far. That's a lot of premeditated malice to ascribe to Armand. I do think there was and is love there between Armand and Louis as seen in the show.

But at the same time... this might surprise some show watchers, but book Armand is an ancient creature of malice who uses his boyish looks to appear soft and gentle when he is anything but. He's over 500 years old and he spent 200 of those years running the Paris Children of Darkness, a Satanic organization that gave his life meaning and purpose during those years.

And even with show Armand, we've seen him capable of playing the long game, pretending to be someone else in Season 1 as he played Fake Rashid, with motives for doing so that are still inscrutable.

We've already seen as of ep 2.6 that Lestat broke up Armand's Paris Coven, the Children of Darkness. But I want to get into why Armand might have been lying about how he was fine with it, that he saw it coming for years, that Lestat was just the instrument of his own desire to move on from that squalid situation.

What if he wasn't fine with it? What if he still isn't fine with it? What if the long game, ever since, is to take everything away from Lestat that Armand can get his hands on, including Claudia, but especially Louis?

Well, to give my evidence for this I'll have to delve into the books a bit, so proceed at your own risk for spoilers.

Here's an excerpt from The Vampire Lestat, with Armand speaking to Lestat after the events in Paris, when he forced Lestat to testify in the trial against Louis and Claudia, because it was always Armand's plan to put Claudia on trial so he could get rid of her and have Louis for himself. For Louis to be buried alive in punishment so that Armand could save him and they could depart together:

"[Armand] leaned forward, and his face transformed itself as it had done years and years ago, as if his rage were melting it from within. 

“You, who destroyed all of us, you who took everything. Whatever made you think that I would help you!” He came closer, the face all but collapsed upon itself. “You who put us on the lurid posters in the boulevard du Temple, you who made us the subject of cheap stories and drawing room talk!” ...

...“We had our Eden under that ancient cemetery,” he hissed. “We had our faith and our purpose. And it was you who drove us out of it with a flaming sword. What do we have now! Answer me! Nothing but the love of each other and what can that mean to creatures like us!”"

Armand plays the long game. Armand is a creature of spite and malice, at least through Lestat's eyes in his own autobiography.

Armand was not fine with the Paris Coven being dispelled. He was not fine with Lestat's generosity or the new purpose given to him by Lestat by establishing the Theatre des Vampires. He loathed it.

And after this above exchange with Lestat, Armand picked up Lestat and flew him up high above Paris and dropped him. Armand did that to Lestat in the books, it wasn't Lestat to Louis (though that could simply be a change for the show, or perhaps even reinvented as a deliberate act of revenge on Louis' behalf for what Lestat did to him, and not some sort of mind alteration by Armand but... we'll see.)

It would be a hell of a twist to end the season on. Arguably, a twist akin to the reveal of Rashid-is-actually-Armand at the end of the first season. That this has all, all of it, since the 1940s been one long revenge play against Lestat.

Again, I think it's probably a bridge too far, too cartoonishly evil, but...man, there is that but lingering in my mind. Because this is the sort of thing Armand would do. He's done it before in the books with the trial of Louis and Claudia being one elaborate pantomime to punish Lestat and Claudia and get Louis to himself.

And it's been bothering me ever since the reveal at the end of S1 that we're in an AU where Louis/Armand stayed together instead of breaking up right after Paris like they did in the book. And if I was writing this canon divergence AU, it would be a hell of a thing to make the pivot point be, "No, Louis and Armand didn't break up because Armand wouldn't let Louis go because all of this has been one long elaborate fuck you to Lestat for destroying the Children of Darkness and robbing Armand of the purpose he'd had in life for over 200 years." 70 years of revenge by comparison? That's nothing.

[rebuke-me]

hiii bmc girls being friends headcanons bc canon won't do it so i have to

they absolutely love playing mario kart. chloe claims peach every time, brooke goes for rosalina, jenna exclusively plays bowser jr and christine swaps it up, but usually picks toad. chloe and christine are the most competitive (but jenna's the best). brookes just there to color code her car and cause chaos.

all of them adore watching dorky romcoms. their favorites are grease and mamma mia, because its the perfect intersection between their interests.

they have a groupchat together, and its full of the most batshit unhinged memes you've ever seen in your life. (christine is the least active, she lurks and then likes everything in a huge spree so everyone gets like 20 notifications at once)

jenna's house is the favorite hangout spot, because its kind of in the middle of all of theirs, and all of them ADORE her little brother. they usually let him play video games with them.

one time christine made chloe cackle so hard that she laughed soda out her nose. they do not let her live that down and now she can never drink pepsi zero ever again.

jenna and christine begged brooke to let them dye her hair, and she finally caved as long as it was temporary. they were partway through putting bright green on the ends when chloe point out that the dye they were using was permanent. (brookes tips were mountain dew neon green for a solid month after that)

brooke loves drawing on her friends skin with glitter gel pens, and she can usually be found doodling on their hands.

christine made them all friendship bracelets (and kept them in her bag for like two weeks because she wasn't sure if they would like them, but chloe did in fact cry a little when christine gave her a bracelet.)

chloe makes them all learn tiktok dances and they fuck them up SO many times, which means that theres like 9 drafts of them cracking up

one time they tried to start a prank war with the boys but it failed miserably because not a single one of them ever fell for the bait, so their prank war died in the water before it even started.

jenna and christine have been trying to do a powerpoint night for months, but they havent found anything that their friends havent let them ramble about for ages already.

chloes bad at showing affection, but will hand her friends gifts (that she clearly bought FOR them) and be like "uh this is something that my aunt/uncle/grandma got me but its not my style maybe you would like it or something idk whatever." they all know she got them especially for them. none of them will mention it but they think its sweet

[kimberbohwrites]

I HC Rolan being a bit of a brat tamer like his partner says make me while getting intimate and it just flips a switch for him of oh that's how we're playing tonight. He may be our bratty wizard but that's why he'd be an excellent brat tamer

Thanks for the ask anon (and your patience as I work to clear out my inbox while work is very busy for me) – I am a switch Rolan truther so I really love where your head is at here.

Rolan Tames a Brat

18+ NSFW MDNI

>For brats it absolutely takes one to know one and our man is about as bratty as they come. Even after claiming the tower and beginning his healing journey from everything that has happened to him, I think he’ll always maintain that sassy streak in him. >He’s certainly a romantic for his person and their relationship is a very loving one. However, they love to get a rise out of him after all this time together. He’s a workaholic and they need to occasionally refocus his attention on other pursuits. They’re masterful at finding ways to push his buttons, not it’s hard – he’s particular about his surroundings.

>Rolan works to maintain his calm as they continue to irritate him while he works – clearing their throat every few minutes but then looking away innocently, walking into the room and walking out again every few minutes, “accidentally” knocking stacks of paper over. He’s doing pretty well at maintaining his cool and focusing on his work until a seemingly simple act pushes him over the line. >They had approached him at his desk from behind to be out of his line of sight. He could still tell they were there but wasn’t paying attention to what would surely be another attempt to goad him into paying attention to them when he felt their lips on the tip of their ear and the lightest nibble of teeth. A bite just firm enough to surprise – but not enough to hurt him. >His reaction leaves him feeling humiliated – the unexpected tactic draws a needy whine from him as he arches his back slightly at the heady sensation. They move away as if to escape after getting their reaction, but they aren’t quick enough. Rolan’s tail coils around their thighs, stopping their hasty retreat as he stands to draw them close to him in a firm grasp. >”Is this what you wanted?” he breathes into their ear. They whine and nod slightly as Rolan tightens his grip on them. “You’re such a brat,” he says before leaving a bite of his own on their neck. >It’s not long before he forces them up against his desk and bends them over with their pants around their ankles. His tail stays tightly coiled around their legs as he administers a spanking to his brat. They love it and it’s not too long before Rolan gives in and takes them roughly against his desk, sneaking in sweet kisses to counter the absolute railing he gives his brat. >Did they learn their lesson? Absolutely not, dear reader.

[evansedmundo]

i just want a buddie kiss that starts off as a hug. they’re hugging each other, and it’s like nothing else exists in that moment except for them and the warmth enveloping them through this strong, firm embrace. they’re hugging each other so tightly, and they’re hugging each other for so long, as if they’re afraid to let go. it’s as if something bad will happen if they let go too soon. so they’re holding on. one of eddie’s arms is wrapped tightly around buck’s waist while his other arm is hooked over buck’s shoulder, his hand splayed over buck’s back; buck is his mirror, holding eddie just the same with faces pressed against the other’s shoulder, breathing, inhaling the familiar scent of one another. it’s almost like their typical hug, big and quick, except it’s not quick; no one seems willing to break it this time. it’s not punctuated with a pat or two on the back before they break away. they’re just… holding on.

and once they DO start drawing back, it’s not far. not far at all. in fact, they’re still holding onto one another, having drawn back just enough to look at each other. it feels like the air between them is practically nonexistent, like a vacuum sucked it all out, and they’re staring at each other with eyes full of love, heat, desire, and just want. they want. it’s all that’s reflected back at each other, and it’s intoxicating, swaying them both in until their foreheads are pressed together. words don’t need to be said because their eyes are already telling a story.

it’s eddie who slots their noses together and buck releases a breath that warms their lips, only centimeters apart, and that would cause eddie’s hand to grip buck’s shirt at his lower back, both of them trying to anchor themselves. it’s already so much that they need to make sure they don’t just… float away. then, it’s buck, after his tongue darts out momentarily to wet his lips, who moves to finally, finally close the space between their lips in a soft press. it’s like the spark of a lighter. a meteoric impact. opening floodgates. it’s the chemical reaction that can’t be stopped once it’s started.

it starts off slow and relishing, joy in just being able to press their lips together as one, and then it’s a bit like an avalanche, slowly gaining momentum - buck tilts his head and deepens their connection, something that eddie is all too eager to meet. their kiss is warm, it’s wet, it’s insistent, it’s rhythmic, it’s exploratory, but there’s also this hint of desperation in the brushing of their tongues. the hug suddenly turns into clinging, buck’s arms now looped tightly around eddie’s neck with a hand buried in the back of eddie’s hair, and eddie’s hands are scrambling for purchase on buck wherever they can reach. they want. they want. it’s too much! it’s not enough! it’s everything and it’s not enough all at the same time.

when they draw back to breathe, it’s not far. not far at all. their gazes are darkened, still full of love, heat, desire and want. they’re panting, breathless, having sucked all of the air and life essence from one another and making it theirs. words don’t need to be said because their eyes are already telling a story.

there’s no pause or hesitation when they close the distance between their lips again, the same intensity present but lacking the desperation. they’ll get to do this over and over again, for the rest of their lives.

[kykyonthemoon]

Behind him

Behind him was everything you had ever known.

ಇ. Caleb x F!Reader/MC

ಇ. Tags & warnings: angst with a little fluff, major character death, mention of Chapter 4, hurt no comfort in the end, motorbike riding.

ಇ. Word count: 1k

ಇ. Based on a request by Wytchie Pie

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

Behind him was everything you had ever known.

You grew up under his care and protection. Every time something happened, you would always look for his mighty back first, as if this was a habit. That was something he had taught you since you were little.

For, on the first day of school, you were bullied by older kids. They pulled your hair and mocked your bewildered appearance. You were about to throw a punch that would destroy their already loose front teeth, when he arrived out of nowhere. He spread his arms wide, covering you behind his back.

“Don't mess with my sister!”

He declared loudly as you attempted to draw him away. “I can handle them, Caleb!” 

As a result, that day, Caleb suffered a nosebleed, while  the other children had broken teeth and some had swollen faces. 

You were safe and sound. Caleb had shielded you like a wall that never swayed.

Caleb grew up fast, so when other children saw him as greater than them, they were afraid and stayed away. They dared not to make trouble with you since they knew you were his adoptive sister. Perhaps you had noticed his back and how it would cast a shadow on you as you went home together.

He would constantly stroll ahead of you in busy areas. But he never abandoned you. He would hold your hand and make use of his shoulder to cut through the crowds to secure a place for you. If you got lost, fear not, simply look around and you would see his towering figure amid the crowd, anxious and hurrying toward you. When your legs weary, he would lift you onto his enormous back and carry you. When you were disrespectful and made Grandma furious, he would hide you and take all the blame on himself. Just seeing his back, holding his hand, and you were home.

You adored Caleb's back, when it was soaked in sweat on hot days as he took you to school on a little bicycle. You adored Caleb's back on sudden rainy days, when he would tell you:

“Pip-squeak, hide behind me. You won't get wet in the rain.”

And you would obediently crouch behind his back, entrusting him to keep you safe from every raindrop and every wind. Caleb never complained, but rather seemed proud when you relied on him.

Rainy days, sunny days, every day was peaceful when you were behind him.

Then, he left home to the academy, and your days in high school stretched so long. On the day you graduated, he suddenly appeared at the school gate on a brand new black motorbike. He drew all the admiring eyes of the students, while you were both surprised and embarrassed to catch his words, out loud:

"Congratulations on your graduation, pip-squeak!"

He must have purposefully pronounced those tiny syllables, pip-squeak, aloud and then grinned warmly at you. You rushed to his side.

"Get on."

"Where are we going?"

Caleb placed a helmet on your head and said, "Just get on and you'll see."

Sitting at the back of his motorbike, the wind blew your hair and your uniform skirt. Yet simply by sheltering behind Caleb's sturdy back, the world seemed to slow down, the sunshine was brighter and the breeze became much kinder.

Caleb took you out of town into the outlying areas to view the sights. Sunset dropped on his back on the hill where wildflowers danced in the wind. You sat back to back with him, head tilted and rested on his shoulder.

“When did you buy the motorbike?” You asked. Before making any major decision, he would at least inform Grandma and you first. However, this was kept concealed. 

"Yesterday." Caleb replied, smiling. “And I rode it back here to pick you up.”

"What?" You were astonished. “You rode it all the way back here from Skyhaven?”

"Yup. Do you like it?" 

You got up and turned to look at him. "I do."

Caleb also turned to look at you. “Then every time I have a break, I'll come back and take you out, okay?”

Since then, you started to be more interested in motorbikes. Caleb's important missions prevented him from returning home frequently, while you were accepted into the Hunter training program and had your trips delayed over and over again. Nonetheless, you still counted every single day to holidays, when Caleb would take you out on his motorbike again.

When you became an official Hunter, you chose a motorbike as your personal means of transportation. You enjoyed driving at fast speeds across long distances. You appreciated how the wind whispered in your ears memories of sitting on the back of Caleb's, having his back defend you. Now that you had grown up, you could let him stay behind you. You could protect him.

Even though you kept insisting, "I'm not a kid anymore!" you would like sitting behind Caleb and being pampered and protected in that way. You could put your arms around him, rub your face against the back that smelled of wind and grass where he preferred to lie down, and whisper: "If only I could stay like this for the rest of my life!"

The last time you saw that back was on a bright sunny afternoon.

He entered the house, and never left again.

*

* *

You clutched the necklace you had given him years ago. So tight that it left a mark on your palm. Your tears flowed, soaking the pillow on the hospital bed. Powerless. Hopeless. You stared up at the dark room ceiling. 

One hand reached up high, as if to keep him back.

Come back, Caleb!

Don't go in there!

Wait for me! 

Just a little… Slow down a little…

Please…

But Caleb did not listen to you. He could not hear you. He grinned and opened the door to death. The crimson flames engulfed him, taking away from you the back that had always shielded you throughout his existence. 

And then, you were all alone, forever left behind him.

[nykuna]

THE IRONY OF FATE

Chapter 2 : Prey.

pairing : Ryomen Sukuna x fem reader

cw : angst, mention of drugs and alcohol, slow burn, romance

summary : After a long night's work, you've met a man whose name you don't yet know, but the threads of fate seem to be drawing you together.

jjk alternate universe : no jujutsu sorcerers, everyone is human.

The music feels louder than ever, the bass seems to vibrate every organ in your body, the lights flicker and you feel your mind slowly getting intoxicated by the alcohol you've consumed.

Lily's not back yet, she's been gone for a while. Already intoxicated by the alcohol in your veins, you decide it's time to have some fun. You get up, pushing aside the stranger still sitting next to you whom you've been trying hard to ignore, and walk over to the rest of the group who are playing a game of poker it seems.

The table is covered with piles of bills and empty glasses. Around the table, about 5 people are concentrating, but you notice that their eyes are red and slightly hooded, now you wonder how they can bet such large sums of money while under the influence. The rich really do have funny ways of entertaining themselves, and you can't help but judge them silently.

Lost in your thoughts again, you feel a hand come to rest on your waist causing you to shiver in surprise, you hurriedly turn around to find out who it belongs to and stumble backwards in your panic.

"Careful, I know I'm hot but you could still try to keep your balance." Damn, that's a pretty voice. You look up to see who's addressing you. Your gaze is greeted by a piercing green stare. You continue to explore his face as you come to your senses and realize that he's probably a boxer too, given the scar that adorns his lips.

"Sorry, I think I might be a little drunk," you murmur. "But would you mind taking your hand away? As far as I remember, we've never met." You say, holding his gaze.

"I just wanted to get closer to the table to watch the game, I bet quite a bit of money on Naoya. But I have to admit, you're not too bad to look at after all." He says, stepping back. Everything about this man screams red flag, the way he talks, the way he grabs a perfect stranger by the waist or his visible interest in gambling. Yet you can’t deny that he’s extremely attractive. "Im Toji, what’s your name pretty drunk girl i’ve never met before ?" he smirks.

"O-oh sorry," you apologize, shifting away from the table to guarantee him a better view. "My name is-"

Before you can finish introducing yourself to the handsome stranger, the atmosphere that had become so light, becomes heavy and intoxicating again.

Unsurprisingly, you realize that the tattooed man from earlier is now standing next to Toji. How is it that the universe seems to collapse in on itself when he arrives in your space? His crimson red gaze sends a shiver down your spine, and he taps Toji on the shoulder, looking you straight in the eye and smiling sideways as always. Your drunken mind is playing tricks on you again, but you can't help thinking that, his expression mixed with heady music and reddish lights, he looks particularly charismatic, attractive yet disturbing, almost demonic.

"You really ignored me all night to go hit on that guy?" he raises his eyebrow and sits behind you.

"We can understand why, maybe she doesn't like tattoos too much, gotta admit you're scary dude." Toji retorts, still facing you.

They continue to spar but you couldn't care less. At this point, all you can think about is the fact that you're caught between two particularly attractive and imposing men, bickering for your attention. And to be honest, you don't mind in the least.

It's time for you to order a new drink, you can enjoy yourself freely tonight as you look forward to spending the day in bed tomorrow. Completely ignoring the two men, you jostle them to make your way to the stairs.

With every step you take, you realize that you should surely have eaten something before feasting. Each step requires unwavering concentration, and the music pounding in your ears doesn't help you in the least. When you reach the steps, you take a breath to prepare yourself to go down, which in your current state seems almost impossible.

Finally breathing, you open your eyes and look at what's going on downstairs, despite the time, everyone seems to be enjoying their evening, and that's one of the things you love the most about your job, even if it wasn't uncommon to serve jaded or depressed customers at the bar, the dancefloor was always filled with groups of friends laughing out loud, couples seducing each other tenderly in the dim lights, their eyes always brimming with joy, love or envy.

Contemplating the scene, you feel a hand rest on your shoulder, the warmth of that hand against your skin brings you unprecedented comfort, you don't even bother to look at who it belongs to and you feel a breath close to your ear.

"Look, I know I've behaved like shit tonight, but at least let me help you down, you're in no condition." His low voice sounds divine in your ears, you must really have been drunk, but the mix of the touch of his hand, his presence so close enveloping you in his bewitching perfume, his voice so deep and yet surprisingly soft... Fuck, you can't fantasize about a complete stranger, especially not this one.

"I guess I could use the help…What's your name? Might as well introduce ourselves since you can't go 5minutes without me" you straighten up and give him a playful smile. You don't have the strength to fight him anymore, besides, he's far too hot for that.

"Everyone calls me Sukuna, but you, lucky girl, can call me Ryomen" he leans over to put his arm under your shoulder and supports you to make sure you don't collapse down the stairs, his gestures surprisingly gentle and considerate.

"Even though you didn’t ask, my name is y/n" you smile gently.

With that, you've finally arrived downstairs, and you spot Lily sitting at the bar laughing out loud with Suguru, which warms your heart as they seem to be getting along really well.

Ryomen asks you what you'd like to drink as you approach the bar, but you grab him by the arm and pull him towards Lily and Satoru.

He raises an eyebrow at the sudden contact, given that you've been avoiding him all evening, but he's happy to oblige.

"Oh my gosh y/n you're just in time, I was just telling Toru that you made me a cocktail so strong one day that I had to run to the bathroom after just one sip!" Toru huh? The evening seemed fruitful for Lily, more so than for you, that's for sure.

"Fuck yeah, I remember! I've got to say, no one could drink that without flinching..." You laugh with her. "Do you like challenges?" You turn to Ryomen and Satoru with a hint of mischief in your eyes.

"You looked at us? Bring it on, baby." Ryomen says as she sits down next to Satoru and Lily.

You call Shoko with a wave of your hand, and when she arrives at your level, you ask her if you can go behind the bar to prepare your « drink ».

"Oh my God, you're going to do it again..." she sighs with a smile, then opens the door for you to pass through.

Determined to make them regret the bet, you get out shot glasses and start mixing all the strongest alcohols you have on hand. Your condition no doubt makes the drink even more undrinkable than before, but you couldn't care less this was your way of getting back at Ryomen.

~

10AM, you're woken by the sounds of Lily, who has somehow found the strength to get ready for school despite last night's hectic pace. As you get up, a terrible headache takes hold of you, and you start to regret having partied so hard yesterday, especially as you have no memory of what happened after the cursed shot.

The sun shines brightly through your window and you hasten to close the curtain to avoid aggravating the dull pain in your skull. You finally decide to go to the kitchen to take some medicine and lots and lots of water.

Lily is already in the kitchen preparing her lunch.

"Damn y/n, you really look like shit today!" she laughs happily, you shoo her away and hastily ask her what happened at the end of the night.

"Honestly, I have no memory of it either, I just know we took the horrible shots too, so no wonder we don't remember a thing!" She finishes wrapping up her meal "Toru texted me that he'd ordered us an uber so we could get home safely."

"What a gentleman, you'll have to tell me all about it when you get home tonight!" you chirp before greeting her as she heads for the entrance to exit.

~

After a hot shower and several liters of water, you decide to go back to bed and enjoy your day off.

One thing's for sure: your brain isn't resting. Your thoughts can't help but revolve around him, Ryomen.

Everything about him intrigues you; if only you'd had less to drink yesterday, you'd know more about him. Now all you can do is imagine. But you do remember that he seemed to be friends with Satoru... maybe he was a famous athlete as well? Without further ado, you grab your phone to look up his name and hopefully some information about him, knowing that you won't be able to sleep until your curiosity is satisfied anyway.

When you unlock your phone, a notification catches your eye: an unknown number has sent you a picture, and you click on the mysterious message with a bit of anxiety, considering it was very unusual.

The photo is a picture of you taking a mysterious shot with Shoko and Lily...That bad huh? You can't help smiling, you look really silly, but you send it to Shoko to have a laugh with her.

When it's done, you go back to the unknown conversation and write a message, because deep down, you knew very well that only one very specific person could send you an unflattering photo without even introducing themselves.

[y/n] : Let me guess…

No less than 30 seconds later, you get a reply.

[Unknown]: Were you waiting for my text ?

[y/n]: Not rlly tbh :// How did you get my number anyway?

[Unknown]: I honestly don't even know anymore.

[y/n]: Wtv, you can delete it, yesterday night was fun but don't expect more.

[Unknown] : Come on i know you were thinking abt me all day long.

Of course you did, but you couldn't let it go any further, you still weren't mentally ready to commit to a relationship of any kind. Besides, everything about Ryomen screamed danger, from his profession to his looks to his behavior, you'd had enough with men like him.

[Unknown] : Wanna come over ? :)

Straightforward, isn’t he ? You know you shouldn't answer, but despite yourself, you feel this sensation in the pit of your stomach, begging for more. After him, you'd never spoken to the same man for more than one evening, choosing to protect yourself from all the dangers that come with feelings and relationships.

[y/n] : hell no, i was drunk last night, i must’ve confused you for a good guy :) wtv gotta go.

[Unknown] : Ah well we’ll see abt that :)

The fuck does he mean "we’ll see about that?" He's upset you again, but maybe that's a good thing, maybe now you'll finally be able to enjoy your day without having your thoughts polluted by him.

Despite all the good will in the world, you can't help but save his contact, "just in case".

~

After this brief conversation, your unfortunate fears about your own mind proved legitimate.

Even though you only spoke for 5 minutes, and not to say much of anything interesting, this little game of seduction had already gone to your head. Sure, it's a dangerous game, but you can't lie, feeling "wanted" again was particularly pleasurable. You knew that if you got back in touch with him, someone would end up getting hurt, because it seemed like fate was mocking you and had a nasty tendency to ruin all your relationships.

It was a mistake, and a big one. You should never have drunk yesterday, or even accepted his advances. It was a mistake you were paying for today by reminiscing about all your past mistakes, as painful as they were. All this without even having engaged anything with Ryomen, so you can't imagine the catastrophe if you decided to ignore the curse hanging over your head and follow your instincts.

No, you should protect yourself, you have to protect yourself, you can't afford another tragedy, you don't have the shoulders for it.

If you run away, you’ll never know.

More updates on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/56234707/chapters/142859620

Nyc <3

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Sebastian Stan characters finding out you’re pregnant » Chris Beck

Pairings: Chris Beck x Female Reader

Summary: Chris finds out you’re pregnant.

Warnings: Fluff, language, pet names

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

You and Chris found out you were pregnant shortly after you two got home from space.

You two have been dating for a while and got engaged while you guys were in space. You two talked about the future together and kids are in that future.

Chris was beyond excited when he found out he’s going to be a dad. Just as long as you’re the woman pregnant with his baby, that’s all he wants.

The crew congratulating the two of you when they find out.

Chris would go all doctor on you just to make sure everything is fine.

You jokingly saying “Babe, you’re a space doctor, not a baby doctor.”

Chris would buy a plain onesie and get creative and write “Space Baby” with drawings of a bunch of stars, planets, and moons on it.

He would want the baby’s nursery to be space themed and you would want it to be zoo animal themed.

You would buy a plain white t-shirt and creatively write “Space Daddy” on it.

You and Chris coming up with baby names that have something to do with space.

Chris would spend most nights rubbing your baby bump and telling the baby about space.

Chris saying “I love you to the moon and back.” to you and the baby all the time.

You complaining about how fat you look cause of how big your stomach is so Chris says something cute like “Just imagine your belly is a moon and our little star is growing inside of you.” while rubbing his hand against your baby bump.

You not getting much sleep at night sometimes, because the baby is a little too active and Chris has to talk the baby down so you can sleep.

You cry when you feel like you’re bossing Chris around when you ask him for something and he assures you that you’re not being boss.

You sitting in a rocking chair in the corner of the nursery and watching Chris build the crib.

Chris taking time off of work towards the end of your pregnancy and after the baby is born.

Over all, you and Chris can’t wait to hold that little bundle of joy in your arms when he or she is born.

[remidyal]

Game Changer Season 6 episodes, ranked by my personal enjoyment

Because I also enjoy arbitrarily ranking things! If you disagree... I mean, that's fine? I liked every episode this season, just.. I liked some episodes better than others. I'm grouping the Ratfish episodes together, so we've got eight entries. Spoilers for, um, every game changer episode this season, obviously.

#8 Pencils Down:

I'm not as into drawings and all as I am a lot of the other stuff, though this was probably the most wholesome episode of this season. I'm, naturally, opposed to wholesomeness too.

Favorite bit:

The proposed tattoos were a lot of fun.

#7 Ratfish (parts 1 and 2):

I think this one got hurt for me by a couple things - I know absolutely nothing about the show they're mimicking, unlike Survivor or the Bachelor, and I did not particularly enjoy anything directly to do with the Ratfish or understand why I should care about his opinions and arbitrary decisions. I assumed that the cast would recognize who this person was and we'd get some kind of payoff there, but nope. Everything just between the cast was great, though.

Favorite bit:

Honestly there's a ton of quick moments to choose from here, but I think my favorite is Brennan incorrectly going for the seat marked Brennan Lee Mulligan at the end.

#6 The Newlyweb Game:

This one was gentle good fun, I enjoyed everyone involved, there were just more standout moments in some of the later episodes on this list. This is fighting with Pencils Down for the most wholesome episode, or at least the one that would least fit into a saw trap. In spite of that this would be the episode all time of Game Changer I would least be willing to be on, even in the world where I'm not firmly aroace and have a partner - I think I would sooner light myself on fire than let someone I know have full access to my phone.

Favorite bit:

Revealing how many unread emails people had and the shock and judgement at totally reasonable numbers, as someone with around forty thousand unread emails in my primary gmail account dating back to 2004.

#5 Bingo

We're really into tough competition now! I loved this episode, and that it somehow turned into a tormenting Brennan episode even though he wasn't even supposed to be there. This was obviously slightly rigged so that the players in the third set of Bingo were most likely to win (and it was actually impossible for the people on stage) but honestly pulling it off was so good.

Favorite Bit:

I mean, it's the reveal to Trapp and everyone of the existence of the third group of course.

#4 Second Place

First, I know that for meta reasons this should be second, but it's not. Oh well. Sam alleges that this episode wasn't intentionally meant to torment Brennan; I do not believe Sam's lies. Everyone in the world saw the twist at the end coming and it's still funny.

Favorite bit:

Ally declaring that Brennan can ring the gong the loudest and Brennan's brain breaking harder than anything that Sam had actually planned.

#3 Sam Says 3

I can't believe this one's only third. If this is how Sam Says ends - and I have a hard time seeing how a fourth edition can escalate, even outside of the BTS claiming that they see three times as the limit for the same premise most of the time - then what an ending. I'm not sure any other game concept has managed to make the players so consistently tricked. My only critique of it is that I think I like the first couple times at this well just a little bit more, with nothing in this quite matching Ally flying to New York or the Something We'll Have To Bleep energy for me.

Favorite Bit:

It's hard to top the fake Sam body dropping from the ceiling.

#2 Beat the Buzzer

Every episode with the Seven cast is always incredible, and production-wise this seems like the craziest thing they've ever pulled off. Any episode where they break out of just the stage is always good, and I think this is the most extensive use of that they've ever done. Incredible variety, great cameos from Aabria and Persephone, complete manic energy from all three contestants. A+ episode.

Favorite Bit:

There's so much here, but I think mine as someone who worked as a pizza delivery driver was the entire exchange where Rehka just ends up getting the bag with the buzzer and a bunch of loose oreos. Was production prepared with everything that was on that menu or would they have actually ordered breadsticks somewhere to use as a prop?

#1 Deja Vu

Time loop stuff is always a favorite of mine, and pulling one off as an episode is ALREADY a great premise before you even get into all of the other cast and the editing. (Shout out to Siobhan Thompson for being in exactly two Game Changer episodes and them being this one and Escape the Green Room; guess we know what pepper rating she puts down.) Great chemistry between the cast, a truly deranged display from Sam, and of course the Wenis. Genuinely the WEIRDEST episode of the season, too, always a good sign.

It's a shame they already repeated the premise too much to do a follow up to this one...

Favorite Bit(s):

I'm doing two for this one because it's my list and I can.

"This isn't fucking Um, Actually!" with sincere righteous anger.

Everything to do with Zac as Grant, most of all how easy it would have been to just make that Zac as Zac.