#and I still have over 3 seasons to go through

[thebearer]

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up. 

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home. 

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him. 

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before. 

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind. 

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively. 

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-” 

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum. 

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach. 

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.” 

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?” 

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-” 

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!” 

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you  now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-” 

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”  

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-” 

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you. 

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest. 

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!” 

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible. 

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one. 

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for. 

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing. 

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat. 

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth. 

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear. 

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed. 

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt. 

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-” 

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in. 

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted. 

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger. 

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door. 

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again. 

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick. 

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber. 

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits. 

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance. 

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open. 

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him. 

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?” 

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question. 

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-” 

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it. 

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you. 

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left. 

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?” 

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony. 

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left. 

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him. 

And he’d driven you away. 

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete. 

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went. 

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything. 

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you. 

[smok3r7]

They Always Come Back

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

Can It Work?

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a decade you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.

Chapter Summary: Your first case doesn’t go as planned or at least not how you wanted it to go. Are you fit for this?

Word count: 4.3k

Season 8, Ep. 8 “The Wheels on the Bus” is incorporated in this chapter, I hope you guys enjoy, I had a fun time with this one<3

—

As you sit in the black leather office chair, staring at Aaron with pure intentions, your hands grip the armrests tightly to conceal their shaking. The cold air in the room makes you shiver, but you will not let him see your vulnerability. Aaron's piercing gaze meets yours, and you feel the nerves inside you threatening to unravel.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, pleading your facade will hold. Despite the icy chill running through your veins, a fire burns within you, a fierce determination to face whatever challenge lies ahead. You square your shoulders, meeting Aaron's gaze head-on, a silent battle of yearning unraveling between you.

You refuse to let fear control you or take over, ready to confront whatever obstacles you’ll face.

But when Aaron's gaze wanders from your eyes to the glinting gold chain peeking out from beneath your button-up shirt, a rush of anticipation courses through you. With bated breath, you observe the subtle shift in his demeanor as his pupils dilate upon catching sight of the golden heart pendant that he gave you so many years ago.

In that moment, a strong sense of satisfaction wraps around you, knowing that he has noticed the intimate piece of jewelry nestled against your skin. You can almost feel the invisible thread of connection tightening between you, a silent acknowledgement passing between the stares to one another.

"So how've ya been?" you ask into the cold office.

He takes a moment before replying, moving his amber orbs back to yours, "I’ve been fine, just trying to stay on top of everything. You?"

You're hesitant to tell Aaron, so you give a quick response. "I've been busy, but good." Despite the smile on your face, Aaron senses something off. He looks at you intently, waiting for more. You can feel the weight of your secret pressing on your chest, threatening to spill out at any moment. But you push it down, putting on the facade of normalcy.

The truth is, things have been far from good. You've been struggling with something that you're not ready to share yet. There are just some things that shouldn’t be shared immediately, and the fact that you still have feelings for him, is one of them. But you almost feel compelled to tell him, but the need to keep this job fights that feeling.

"We can’t let…whatever this is-” You point your finger to yourself, back to him, and to yourself again, “Get in between the job. It just can’t.” You express it mainly to Aaron but also as a reminder to yourself. “People are counting on us to help them and their community. Our problems are minuscule to theirs.”

Aaron nods in agreement, his determination matching yours. "I agree," he nods, "We both can be professional, right? As long as that happens, you will be a perfect fit to the team."

“I can keep things professional. It’s my forte,” you chime as you stand up and soothe your button up. “It was nice to meet you, Aaron Hotchner.” You figure this is a chance for you both to start over again, you reach your hand over his desk, waiting for him in return. The unexpected warmth in his smile caught you off guard as he reciprocated your handshake.

“It’s nice to meet you, dear.” In that moment, the icy facade of Aaron Hotchner melts away, revealing a glimpse of the person behind the stern exterior. The person who once used to be your person. The person who you used to love.

As you walk out of his office, you can’t shake the feeling that something is going to happen. And little did you know - this encounter marks the beginning of an unexpected connection that unfolds in the weeks to come.

—

“Abducting a bus, a form of transportation, gas masks, shock collars, dividing people into teams. This sounds a lot like Gods of Combat." Rossi announces, but the room stares at him in pure disbelief that the older Italian man knows something about video games. “This is a video game.” He backs himself up, shrugging his shoulders just a bit.

“These guys are replicating a video game?” Derek asks, almost jokingly folding his arms in front of his broad chest as he leans against a desk.

Rossi nods his head and moves towards the big round table, pointing at crime scene photos, “In the game, you take over a form of public transportation. Subway, train, bus. That's how you get your players.”

“Wait a minute. You've played this game before?” You blurt out, you truly are taken aback by Rossi knowing so much about this so-called game. You lean back in the office chair and stretch your legs out in front of you, folding your arms against your chest.

“Well, I may have played it once or twice. But, with how similar it is… it seems like they definitely pre-selected these kids.” Rossi moves his eyes between the whole team.

“I’m sure they got all the kids' personal information from social media sites and they knew when the kids would be most vulnerable. And which bus route they’d be on.” JJ bounces her thoughts to everyone, with which you all agree.

“How do you win this game?” You and Hotch ask at the same time, even though you’re on opposite sides of the table. The whole room goes quiet and the awkward stares between you and Aaron begin, but you try to stay focused on Rossi who apparently knows it all.

You can’t help yourself from looking over to Aaron once more, you instantly see him looking at you but not at your face. You calmly raise your right hand to the golden heart that lays high on your chest. His eyes move off of you faster than the speed of light, almost too fast to catch, but you do.

You’ve caught him staring at it a dozen times since the first day you saw him after so many years, it’s like he can’t stop because he can’t believe after a decade you still have it, let alone wear it.

Two peas in a pod, Derek mumbles to himself as he turns around and fills his second cup of coffee of the morning. You can’t help the small smirk that quickly appears, but you pull it down before too many people notice. But still playing with the small heart.

“Well… That’s why we gotta hurry up and find them. Because the player with the highest body count wins.”

Your stomach drops instantly. You weren’t expecting that information, because now if you are too late to find these kids, they could all end up dead. That responsibility alone, terrifying.

—

The FBI vest clings to your sweaty body as you carefully make your way through the dimly lit building. Your arms feel like stone and jello at the same time, the weight of responsibility heavy on your shoulders.

Despite the physical strain, your mind remains sharp and focused. You have a mission to accomplish - to save the innocent children trapped in this nightmare.

As you navigate through the dark abandoned corridors, you hear faint cries echoing in the distance, urging you to move faster. These kids don’t deserve the horrors that await them.

With each step, you draw closer to the source of the cries, and your heart pounds in anticipation. You prepare yourself for what lay ahead, ready to confront whatever challenges stood in the way of rescuing the children and bringing them to safety.

Continuing to navigate the dark abandoned factory with your team, you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, with Derek leading the way and Aaron covering the rear.

Your heart races as you watch Derek check a hallway to his left, prompting you to swiftly move towards the doorway on the right. With your gun raised, you enter the room and release a silent breath as you find it empty. The tension is high as you three press on, each step echoing in the empty space.

“Just shut up!” Echoes through the cement hallways, in the direction Derek’s heading towards. The three of you quicken your pace, still checking rooms that appear here and there. The arguing becomes louder and louder, until Derek tells you and Hotch to stop along the wall while he slowly moves into the open room, where you can only assume are the unsubs.

“FBI, drop your weapon!” he yells out, “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, I'm here to help you.” You glance at Hotch to make sure he’s thinking the same thing as you. Which he must because he nods once, allowing you to slowly follow Morgan and he follows you.

As the tension hangs in the air, you announce your credentials and last name, followed by Hotch doing the same. The three of you spread out cautiously, not wanting to startle the unsub and trigger a dangerous or harmful reaction. A group of a dozen or more kids are behind a chain link fence with a padlock on the door portion, and two of them have dog shock collars on.

Each step you take feels deliberate, every movement calculated to maintain control of the situation. But from the look of things, you can tell this isn’t going to go smoothly. Your gut instinct is in overtime.

Knowing that one wrong move could escalate the already precarious situation. The stakes are high, and as you brace yourself for whatever might unfold, the weight of the moment is nearly suffocating. But yet, you are calm, cool, and collected.

The brown haired boy looks no older than seventeen, this must be the younger brother, the least dangerous of the two. “C’mon kid, we don’t wanna hurt you,” you firmly plead with him, his gun still aimed at Morgan but his eyes on you. You’re not sure what convinces him to do it, but he lowers the gun to the ground and puts his hands behind his head.

Go, Hotch tells Derek to cuff the kid. But before he gets to the seventeen year old, his older brother comes around the corner with his gun aimed directly at you. Instinctively, you shoot, hitting him dead center in his chest.

A deafening shot echoes in the narrow space. Shock and disbelief mingles with the smell of gunpowder as the reality of the irreversible act sinks in. You watch as the dark brown haired man hits the wall behind him and quickly sinks down to the dirty cold floor, motionless.

You stand frozen in disbelief, a faint screaming from the kids going in one ear and out the other. Your hands tremble, but your grip on the gun remains steady, pointed at the fallen figure before you. In that moment, time seems to stand still as the weight of what you just did settles in. It wasn't just any man you had shot – it was the slick unsub you had been hunting down for days.

The gravity of the situation hits you like a ton of bricks. Your first case on the job, and you have taken a life. The scenes of your own life play out in your mind, a blur of memories and emotions. If you hadn’t taken action, you would be the one on the floor…not him.

You acted on pure instinct, driven by adrenaline and the need to protect the victims, your team, and yourself. But now, as you stare down at the consequences of your actions, you know that this moment will change you.

“A-are you okay?” Aaron’s voice is faint as he asks repeatedly, which shakes you awake from your panic. His right hand on the top of your gun, where your fingers are still tightly wrapped around the handle. You let him take it from your hands, but you still stand there motionless as you stare at the body no more than five feet away from you.

“I will be.”

—

As the sun sets over the horizon, creating this painting-like sky with the brightest oranges and pinks melting into each other, Emily and Derek sit across from you at the jet table, waiting to hear your thoughts about the job. You take a deep breath, trying to gather the many thoughts you have as you begin to debrief them.

You tell them about the adrenaline rush of cracking the case, the satisfaction of bringing justice to the victims. But you also fired your weapon for the first time and ended up killing him, and even though he was your unsub and an evil person - you still took a life.

You’re battling inside if you want to share these thoughts, but this is the time to be truthful about how you’re dealing with something so heavy. It’s the moment you have to decide if this job works for you or not, because if it doesn’t then you have to move on to something else for work, which is okay to do.

“I think I’m just… Still in shock? I’m not sure…” You state but it comes out as more of a question than anything. “I know this guy was the worst, but having to kill him still doesn’t sit right with me.” Leaning back just enough in your seat where your lower back releases some tension in your sore body, “But at the same time… It- it does.”

Morgan and Emily both chuckle to themselves, but in a sympathetic rather than mocking manner. “You may feel that way for a while, or a little bit. First time, it took me two days to get back to myself again. I just didn’t feel real or good about myself, I guess, is the best way to explain it,” Emily truthfully tells you, taking a sip of water to follow as she glances to her right, where Morgan sits.

“It took me a day, but that day felt like months. I almost didn’t come to work the next day… But when I woke up, I told myself that it was me or him. I ultimately had to do it.” Morgan admits, “That’s all you can do.”

You give a forced smile as you play with your fingers and he stands up with his headphones and phone in hand as he moves towards the long couch behind you. But before he passes you, he gently lays his hand on your shoulder. Take your time, he sincerely tells you.

It finally hits you, the importance of having a team that truly cares about each other can make all the difference in the world. Emily and Morgan's unwavering support is your anchor in this weird time in your life.

However, a part of you yearns for Aaron's reassuring presence; his comforting words and warm embrace are sorely missed. A simple, I’m glad you’re safe, would bring you back to solid ground immediately.

—

“Can we talk?”

As you reach your desk the voice you’ve been wanting to hear so bad, finally it’s here. Even though you just wanna go home and escape from this nightmare of a case, you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity of being with Aaron.

“I’ll meet you in your office, gotta use the ladies room.”

Aaron nods his head and turns back towards his office, speaking with Morgan about something, it turns to mumbles as you get farther. As you walk down the hallway towards the bathrooms, you hear the distant sounds of chatter and laughter from the bustling office. You’re surprised how many people are still at work, considering it’s close to midnight.

You quicken your pace, eager to get back to Aaron's office. As you enter the empty corporate bathroom, you take a deep breath and try to calm your racing thoughts.

I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.

After a few moments of deep breathing and building yourself up, you splash some water on your face and stare at your reflection in the mirror. Everything from these past few days replay in your mind, each detail vivid and haunting. Sticking to you like leather seats on a hot day, ripping your skin. You shake your head, willing yourself to focus on one thing at a time.

With a determined look, you straighten your shoulders and head back towards Aaron's office. Quantico may never sleep, but neither do you when there’s work to be done - since you fired your weapon, paperwork is necessary.

On your way back to his office you spot Reid, Emily, and JJ waiting for the elevator, looking ready to go home and sleep. I wish that was me.

JJ calls you over with her arms open, waiting for you. Your face warm with a smile, you go to her and welcome her warm embrace that’s full of love and worry. Her motherly traits have become a huge part of JJ’s personality that it pours out of her at this point. And you’re glad she’s here.

“You’ll be okay.”

“Thank you… You guys get some sleep.” You tell them, wanting to say you’ll see them tomorrow, but you’re not sure if you will.

“You too,” Reid tells you with a small smile on his face, one you haven’t seen much of yet, but you’d like to.

The elevator dings and opens, you step back with a small wave as they walk in and return one to you as the metal doors close. Inhaling deeply, you start your journey back to his office over again with the only intent to listen.

“What’re you still doin’ here?” you question Derek, who’s at his desk busy with what looks to be paperwork of some kind.

“Gotta tell the director it was a good shooting,” he responds, putting his pen down on his desk, he takes in the sight of you standing across from him for a moment, “You’re doin’ well, I can tell you’ll be a good part of the team already.”

You smile and tell him thank you, and to have a good night, which he reciprocates with a playful wink. You like Derek a lot, he’s a great guy all around and he can lighten the mood quickly when things get too serious or he asks the hard questions - the ones that need to be asked.

Walking to what almost feels like the lion's den, you’re nervous. Even though you trust this man with your life, it’s impressive and intimidating he made it as far as the Unit Chief. The relationship now being a boss and employee one, it scares you just enough - your career is in the palm of his hands, he can do whatever he wants.

Without really preparing yourself you knock on the door that’s slightly ajar, come in, and you do without a second thought. Swiftly taking a seat in the same black leather chair as when you first joined the team. You swear you see Aaron wipe his eyes so the tears won’t show, but you don’t say anything.

"I'm sorry you had to do that today," Aaron confesses with a tone you haven’t heard in forever, his amber eyes filled with regret and worry. "I should've been on top of it, that's my fault." His words hang heavy in the air, laden with genuine remorse.

You can see that he means every word he's telling you as he reaches out to comfort you and make sure you’re dealing with this situation the best you can. As you look into his sincere eyes, a wave of gratitude washes over you, knowing that his support is unwavering and is still in him.

Even after a decade, this man still looks out for you and honestly, really cares about you and your well-being. That’s something you don’t find too often anymore… A bond like this one is sacred and holds a lot of meaning

“Don’t be… I had to learn one way or another,” you naturally bicker back, “So now it’s done and out the way.” Shrugging your shoulders, but your right leg bounces rapidly from your anxiety of today. It’s starting to catch up to you and you’re not the only one to notice it.

Aaron doesn’t need to move his eyes to know what’s going on, he just knows. “Well, I’m gonna do your paperwork for you because you need to get home and sleep.” He leans forward with his hands folded together on his desk full of papers and folders. You try to protest but he’s not having any of it, he barks your name to stop your rambling protests - which works like always.

He stands up and moves to your right side, putting his hand out in front of you for you to take. You hesitantly place your hand in his, feeling a jolt of electricity run through you as he gently pulls you up from the seat. As you rise to your feet, there's an undeniable spark between the two of you, like there was back in college.

In that moment, time seems to stand still as you both lock eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. And in that fleeting moment, you kiss him passionately, like you’ve been wanting to since you first laid eyes on him. Your hands naturally find their place on the back of his head, lightly scratching his scalp with your nails.

Aarons body reacting like yours; his hands finding their home on your hips and his tongue gliding its way to yours, itching to take over. It seems like he missed you just as much as you missed him, which you thought was virtually impossible.

But just like that, you stop. What am I doing? He’s my boss…I can’t be doin’ this. What the fuck?

You pull away hesitantly, Aaron sighing but doing the same as he takes one step backwards to give you space. At least he understands, even without words yet again. You open your mouth to say that you’re sorry and that you should’ve known better, but nothing comes out - practically speechless.

As Aaron's voice whispers, "Goodnight," the office feels heavy with unspoken emotions. His words are filled with both sincerity and sorrow, a reflection of the lingering sadness in his heart. You hesitate to walk away, feeling the weight of his feelings and the depth of his longing. It was clear that he struggled to hold back his emotions, for he had missed you the same as you did him.

Before leaving, you give him a smile you haven’t made since that last year in college and you know that he recognizes it. In that moment, you realized the depth of his feelings and the strength of his unspoken love. And as you leave his office, a mix of emotions wash over you, leaving you both yearning for a connection that seemed just out of reach.

—

As you sit in the comfort of your home, a couple hours after you got home and showered as much of the scum off of you as you could, and you still feel sick. Now you’re wrapped up in a soft blanket while Golden Girls plays on your tv in front of you, and a bottle of vodka that you take shots of here and there.

The weight of the case crushes down on you, just as Emily and Morgan had warned.

The image of the kids behind the fence, some with shock collars on, and the man slumped on the ground from your gun burns your retinas, you can’t escape it. The tears finally flow freely, a release long overdue. Something you haven’t been able to do and you thought you wouldn’t, but you are.

The first night back is always the toughest, Emily’s voice reminds you that this is normal, the silence echoing the chaos left behind.

The weight of the case you carry is supposed to hit you hard in the beginning - a reminder that you're only human. But you can’t grasp the idea of being able to kill a person without a second thought… Even though your life and others were in danger, it still seems invalid.

Setting down the glass bottle on the floor, you lay on your side with tears pooling on your pillow. The images on tv are all a blur, you can only hear the sounds of Dorthy and Sophia bickering about Stan. Your stomach twisting itself inside out and back again, your temples pounding, and your heart confused.

For multiple reasons.

Your brain flips from the indescribable memories from the case, to the unforgettable memories with Aaron in his office. The two things couldn’t be more different, it’s like comparing apples to bananas, it just can’t be done.

Emotions swirl within you, trying to find their place in the chaos. It’s hard to distinguish the good feelings from the bad ones right now, the line between them blurred by the weight of the situations. It feels like you should be more upset, more focused on the bad, but somewhere deep inside, a small spark of hope refuses to be extinguished.

As you lay your head down, exhaustion seeping through your bones, fighting the liquor that runs through your blood, a glimmer of hope flickers within you. Despite the battle within, you hold on to that fragile shard of optimism.

Maybe there can be a fix to the wound you have from him, maybe not. But what you do know is this; You are fit for this job and you will continue to be a part of the BAU.

[savagewildnerness]

The Score of S2E5/E12 Don't be afraid, just start the tape.

OK, Someone was asking about the repeated piano notes that recur in S2E5 so I thought I’d have a quick go through the episode.

Please bear in mind that I have not listened to the soundtrack for season 2.  In S2E1 I was so profoundly moved by the exquisite violin music in the first 15 minutes that I was totally overwhelmed and I had to watch the first part of the episode several times to take it all in and be composed enough to continue watching.  

The way the music impacted me there, hearing it for the first time alongside the drama, as intended, made me realise I absolutely do not want to listen to the score before watching the whole of S2 and so not feel the emotion from it as intended, alongside the drama the first time I watch the show!  

I’ll spoil myself by analysing every trailer to the millisecond and reading your analyses… but the music: NO.  I even regretted knowing the Come to Me reprise before it was in the show.  

And even the S1 score… I know it well, but I listen to it on CD in the car, so I’m not familiar with the track titles as I’ve never really looked at most of them…. So, that said - this will not be referencing tracks on the score.  Perhaps I’ll return to this in more depth - analysing the music more thoroughly and with reference to the score after the series is over, but for now…

Piano pedal:

The piano pedal and theme recurs 5 times in the episode, and looking at when, I realised it is all related to Louis uncovering his suicide attempt as it culminates (on the fourth occurrence) in the full theme…

I transcribed just the first bit of slow notes, which isn’t very interesting, but here it is:

Musically the theme is just 5, slow pedal C’s the first and last occurrence - bookmarking the delve into the uncovering of memory.

The second occurrence adds an Eb, suggesting it has somewhere it is starting to head towards… but is still just 5 slow pedal notes.

The third occurrence starts the theme for a fair amount the theme and the fourth occurrence is the full theme.

1 - 5 slow pedal C’s. This occurs in Dubai at this point:

Daniel: How often has Armand spared a life?

Louis: Armand could see I was partial to you

I.e. When Daniel first opens up the concept of exploring his and Louis’ memories of San Francisco, we first hear the pedal C’s

2 - 3 C’s, an Eb and a C - 5 slow notes.  This occurs in Dubai

Daniel: I want to know, for me, what happened between us

So, the first two occurrences are Daniel opening Louis up to the idea of exploring what really happened at the first interview in San Francisco.

3 - Slow pedal C’s and Eb’s into the start of a longer piano theme.  This occurs in San Francisco

This is when Louis is talking about Claudia leaving on the train and him staying behind with Lestat and then…

Daniel: And then what?

The theme starts as Louis talks about this first contemplation of suicide and continues through Daniel’s plea to be made a vampire

4 - Full theme in San Francisco

This begins after Louis and Armand’s argument; after:

Louis: I loved her (Claudia)

Armand: But she didn’t love you.  Not like he did.  Not like I have.

Louis: I know

I don’t know if this is on the season 2 soundtrack, but I’ll presume it is, and it’ll be this, full version that continues now in its full form, through Louis going into the sun.

5 - 5 slow pedal C’s in Dubai, as at the start

This occurs when Armand returns, at the end of the episode

Armand: I could see you were partial to him.  I preserve your happiness even when you don’t or can’t.

Louis and Armand: I had a hunch

Armand: Daniel might prove fruitful in later times

The other, creepy soundscape with distorted horror/electronic sounds (YUM!) happens for the first time after Louis’ suicide attempt when Daniel is mentioned and it scores all the horror elements with Daniel and Armand, where Armand is basically torturing Daniel, trying to find out what makes Daniel fascinating to Louis and Daniel is terrified he is going to die.

The first occurrence:

Louis: He’s alive?

Armand: The boy? The fascinating boy.  He’s fine.  He’s just fine.  Oh, he’s fine.  You’re fine.  We’re all fine.

It continues as Daniel recounts what he can remember - the corpse, etc. and develops as Armand seeks what makes Daniel fascinating

I didn’t really delve into this part, but - violins/strings and a more familiar to most episodes, though sparser, predominantly piano and violin score with lots of high and thinner notes than usual return when Lestat is mentioned between Louis and Armand and Armand talks about listening to the tapes and why Louis did the interview.  It’s very pared back, but the “The drum was my heart” theme (Ahh… is that the origin track for the theme?  Anyway - you know the theme dooo doooooo, do doooo dooooooo one!) is there with high pedal strings as Lestat speaks to Louis and it suddenly drops away as Lestat vanishes…

Armand’s “easeful death” talk with Daniel as he eases him to his death also has a more musically full (and  beautiful) theme.  It reminds me a bit of Moonlight sonata and has Armand-romance-theme vibes in its gentleness - beautiful, delicate and simple.  Then a violin comes in and it becomes increasingly poignant and emotional and eventually (I feel) it has a romance to it too, especially from when Armand says “It’s the comfort we all long for” - it sort of resolves to a musical home.

Again, there is more resolved piano & strings music at the end with Daniel and Louis.

OK, so only a little analysis.  I just watched the episode once and made a few notes.  I basically did it to work out if those repeated piano pedal notes had a specific connection.  And they do - it is specifically tied into (at least as I understood it, from my listening) the uncovering of Louis’ suicide attempt.

Let me know if you’d like me to look at the music ever in the future.  I dunno… part of me feels like killing a fairy to analyse stuff like this rather than just experience the magic, but also I find it very interesting.  This is only a first little touch on stuff.  I could analyse and actually think about it…

Gosh, I adore Daniel Hart’s score!  And I love how unusual and differently this episode was scored compared to other episodes…

Let me know if this was daft of me or if you’d ever like me to look into the music at all.

[dollypopup]

bridgerton season 3 part 2 spoilers

I want to preface this with saying that I have loved Polin for two years. Two years, hundreds of thousands of words, and almost 50 stories. I have loved this couple through fan edits, through fics, through rereads, through songs. I have loved this couple so deeply and earnestly and endlessly

And so my disappointment in Part 2 stems, predominately, from the fact that I just wish it had been better.

I wish it hadn't been as cut through with plotlines that went, ultimately, nowhere. Will and Alice with the tension of 'I don't want to give up the club' 'Well, you should to suit the status quo' 'Oh, okay'. Benedict with his 'I love being free. Let's shag freely!' 'I may have feelings for you' 'I still just want to shag freely, but now I'm opening up more options' (tho, congrats on the bisexuality!) Violet and Marcus who are just being set up for the final season. Cressida, who's story tugged my heartstrings so much, and ended up in the dirt.

But more than anything, I wish Colin had gotten more. There were so many moments where he could have been expanded upon, where his character could have shined, and I truly want to commend Luke Newton, he did a phenomenal job with the crumbs he was given, but was ultimately shoved to the wayside for the Lady Whistledown plot.

In truth, this is a writing problem. The actors are phenomenal. They have chemistry, they have passion, and they are all believable, but the writing fell flat. They gave too much time to side plots and, frankly, to Debling, who was such a nothingburger and didn't even return that it was evident he only existed because the series was afraid to lean fully into Colin's complexities. You know what is more compelling and more worthwhile to explore than 'Oh, I could lose her to someone else?'

Losing her to herself.

Colin spent part 2 ultimately SAD. And he had every right to be. But instead of fully exploring that, he was relegated to the sidelines to support Penelope's storyline. And I understand completely that this season was for the Pen stans, but damn, I wish he got SOMETHING. Kanthony's advice to him was useless, Colin started the series knowing he couldn't open up to his brothers and still not doing so by the end. Colin saying that his ultimate purpose was to support and love Pen was a horrific cop out and a disservice of his character. It's a bad plotline when a woman says so for a man, and it's a bad plotline when a man says so for a woman.

I love these two so much, and I feel like they could have had so much better. Penelope now writing the same gossip, tying herself to Mayfair, but under her name now, thus ensuring that people are aware and being different around her for the sake of her publication is bad. To imply that her dreams are Lady Whistledown is lazy- Lady Whistledown is a plot device the writers are unable to let go, not Penelope's ultimate dreams.

You want me to believe that this woman's biggest dreams are to continue writing gossip? Not novels? Not stories? Not an autobiography? Not to travel? Not to make more friends? But to have a baby and write about parties? They tried giving legitimacy to gossip as if Penelope ever had any peer review, as if she is the be all end all of what is and is not true- she cannot possibly know fully.

I wanted more for her than to be a teenage mum tied to a gossip blog. I wanted more for Colin than to publish a book offscreen and take over an estate until his son comes of age. I wanted more for POLIN. Their beautiful moments were truly BEAUTIFUL. That first time scene was lovely- but how much lovelier would it be after he knew who she was in full and accepted all of it? Their reconciliation felt hollow because he was not truly given the time to process it. The pain of separation, sleeping on the couch as she took the bed, was hardly explored outside of a few quick scenes.

No montage of their letters, no Colin standing beside her, and that Lady Whistledown reveal where everyone clapped? I don't understand it. I wish so much that this show took a good story and made it better, and that's where my bitterness lies. Not because I'm a hater, but because I'm a lover. I wanted to love it so, so much.

And I know it could have been better. My couple is better than this. My couple is better than Penelope's ultimate goal being independence and Colin's ultimate goal being an accessory. My couple is a pair of equals. My couple is a pairing of two people who love one another so damn much they can't even stand it. Where is my Penelope who fights for him? Where is my Colin who announces to the world he loves her?

I guess that Polin ended up on the cutting room floor in the edits, because what we got wasn't enough for me

[blossom-hwa]

melody of the heart [1] | k.th

pairing: Taehyun x fem!reader genre:  fluff, a pinch of angst, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: period typical misogyny word count: 17.8k 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. 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

As the white double doors begin creaking open, only one thought rings clear in the mess of your mind. 

I cannot be the diamond. 

Cannot. Will not. Your father wishes it, as does your governess and the entire unfamiliar extended family crowding your home for the season, but you can’t. Not least because you can’t handle the attention—just the idea of being presented to the queen makes you want the earth to swallow you whole—but also because the longer you can delay finding a husband, the longer you might still find a shred of freedom lingering on your fingertips. 

It's not fair. Late at night you lie in bed, staring at the dark ceiling as angry tears prick the corners of your eyes. Why is it that men should have the freedom to do as they wish, but women must be pushed into the confines of the household, meant to marry up just to add or promote a title for the family name? All you ever wanted to do was play the piano, and even though your father only saw your life’s passion as a way to make money, at least you could do it. You were good at it, too—you’ve played for the royal houses of Europe, met queens and kings and nobles of so many courts, and while you never quite loved being the spectacle of a child prodigy that your family painted you as, at least you were allowed to play. 

But now your father, who rarely contacted you since your mother died five years ago, suddenly breaks his frosty silence to demand that you come home, because the royal checks you’ve been receiving have now begun to dwindle and the only purpose you can now fulfill for your family is to become some rich gentleman’s meek wife. And to make matters worse, you won’t see a penny of the money you made yourself. It’s going to your dowry.

It won’t even be yours. 

What is most upsetting is that he’s not even entirely wrong. Not about the dowry—you’re still smarting over your hard-earned money being turned over to some nameless, faceless gentleman of the ton—but about your musical escapades on the continent. People were eager to watch a child prodigy perform. They cooed and smiled over you like the zoo attraction you were. But as you grew older, you also noticed the invitations dwindling, the interested courts growing smaller, the payments decreasing. All because you were a woman nearing marriageable age, and to be such a prodigy was no longer suitable for your gender. 

For all your usual mild-mannered shyness, this knowledge makes you want to break dishes against the wall. 

But since you’ve returned to England, you’ve kept your mouth shut as you are wont to do. You’re not the type to scream and rage when things don’t go your way. Silence comes more naturally to your lips than shouting and you find yourself nodding quietly to your father’s demands more often than not. Still, though, you can have this. You can have the fact that you will not be the diamond. 

You were worried about it at first. Your name is not unknown by the people of the ton and judging by what little you’ve heard of Lady Whistledown’s papers, your return has stirred some gossip around town. Enough gossip that people speculated the queen might crown you her diamond on the sole basis of your celebrity—and as self-centered as it is, you were anxious about that. But it turned out you actually didn’t have to worry, because as it turned out, you are terrible at being a debutante.

Everything about it hurts. The feathers on your head, the slim, constricting dress, the jewelry choking your neck and wrists and the pale, slippery gloves that slide against your fingers—you certainly don’t wear gloves when you play the piano. The headdress only accentuates your terrible balance and when your governess had you practice your walk for the first time, you’d tripped every other time you went down the hallway.

Which was not ideal, not for you or for your family. Because even though you don’t want to be the queen’s diamond, you also don’t want to be the one girl to trip on her face in front of dozens of people and the queen herself. Only instead of motivating you to be better, the thought of tripping kept making you more and more anxious to the point that you felt like you’d throw up each time you saw your debutante gown.

“Why don’t you treat it like a performance?” your governess had finally suggested, wringing her hands at your latest miserable attempt to walk down the hallway with those godawful feathers on your head. “As though you were to play for the queen.”

The thing is, you have performed for the queen. Not recently, given that you’ve been on the continent for a good many years and only returned a few months ago, but you did perform for her when you were much younger. But that’s—different. Somehow. Your governess and certainly your father might see both situations as the same, but for some reason the idea of parading down an aisle amid dozens of prying eyes, all the while wearing a tuft of white feathers on your head, is terrifying to you in a way that playing the piano for hundreds or more isn’t. 

It doesn’t make sense. Which is why you didn’t bother trying to explain to your governess why exactly her well-meaning advice wouldn’t work, just gave her half a smile and an empty nod as you prepared to try once more. And it had gotten better the more you practiced. Over time you got used to the swaying of the feathers above you, the tiny steps you must take to avoid the headpiece falling to the floor, and all the other millions of tiny things you never thought you’d have to pay attention to. Now, though, as the doors swing fully open, revealing the queen and her entourage at the end of the aisle, framed by every single eye in the room trained on you—

You freeze.

Time stretches and dilates all at once. Opulent ornaments blend with the walls, gold almost seeming to drip onto the white in a way that, to your spiraling mind, looks like blood. The sea of faces before you blurs into a mass and your heart is pounding, your breath coming out in shallow gasps that can’t be doing anything flattering for you in this stupidly tight gown. 

“Y/N.”

Your aunt hisses your name with her unfamiliar voice and suddenly the room comes back into focus. Too much focus. Now everything is too bright and too defined and the gold of the decorations seems to be blinding your eyes. You accidentally lock eyes with the queen at the end of the aisle and all you can feel is the need to throw up. 

But you can’t. 

Slowly, slowly, you take the first step. Then the next. Feathers sway and your head is starting to spin uncomfortably, but you keep your eyes trained on the end of the aisle, something akin to a smile (or at least a grimace) pasted upon your lips. 

You halt after what you think is the right number of steps, just a short distance in front of the queen. The same muscle memory that lets your fingers fly over piano keys helps you into your low curtsy, head dipping just enough to be respectful, not so much that the awful headdress tips over. Wait a moment, your governess’s voice echoes through your muddled mind. Count five seconds, then rise. 

Slowly, you stand, meeting the queen’s appraising eyes once more. Her expression doesn’t change. Relief prickles your chest—maybe she doesn’t recognize you, which means she won’t crown you the diamond for the sole purpose of your fame, or maybe she’s just disappointed and unimpressed—and that relief continues to spread as you stumble out of the room, dimly aware of your aunt following just behind you. 

“Well, you weren’t the diamond,” your aunt sighs. “But at least you didn’t fall. “

Yes, you think fervently as you accept a glass of water from a footman. And thank the heavens on both accounts. 

. . . . .

It’s only the second ball, and Taehyun is already not enjoying the season. 

Ugh. He slips into a darkened corridor and finally allows himself to take a deep breath, the sounds of the party muffled behind the walls. “How did you do this so easily?” he mutters to the phantom of his brother in his mind. 

Taemin’s casual grin smiles back at him from behind his mind’s eye and despite himself, Taehyun almost laughs. He knows the answer already. Taemin enjoys this—the socializing, the talking, all of it. His brother’s easy grace and pleasant manners are easily employed in the ballroom, where he can spread charm at will and revel in the attention he receives in reciprocation. It’s not that Taehyun can’t find his way around a conversation or take an easy turn around the dance floor. He can. It’s just that he doesn’t enjoy it the way Taemin does.

But even then, Taehyun still doesn’t understand how Taemin navigated the marriage mart so seamlessly. Surely he must have at some point grown fed up with the shiny veneer of the debutante season, the incessant pestering of the mamas when they found out the heir to one of London’s earldoms was newly seeking a wife. None of that seemed to bother Taemin that much, though. Two months he went through it with only the barest complaints, and by the third month he was happily married to a woman of a similar temperament. While they might not have been a love match at first, they were certainly an amicable and good one. 

Meanwhile, it’s been barely two weeks since the season started and Taehyun already wants it to be over.

He’s pushed it off enough, though. For three years he’s been allowed the excuse of first finishing his studies, then having to put the estate’s affairs in order—the news of the inheritance was rather abrupt, after all, and completely unexpected. He’s only related to the Addiston line distantly through his mother, not even his father—which is why he was able to inherit even as a second son—and they’d had no idea of the connection until the solicitor had shown up to their door with the news. But it’s been three years. With the weight of an estate on his unexperienced shoulders, the next logical step, to society, would be to find a capable wife to share the burden. His parents agree. So does his brother. 

And so does Taehyun. He just wishes the process of doing so wasn’t so…performative. So obviously meant for matches of rank instead of people. Taehyun knows that if he hadn’t gotten that chance inheritance, hardly anyone would look twice at him. He might be the son of an earl, but he’s only a second son, and the son of a second wife at that. While he’s certainly not at the bottom of the barrel of potential husbands, without his inheritance, he’d be garnering far fewer glances than he does now. 

Far fewer. 

In another better world, maybe it would be easier to find someone with whom he has a genuine connection without having to wade through all the social climbers in this one. Because that’s what he wants. A connection. Not someone who will simply look at his title and inheritance and pursue those instead of him.

But in this world, that might just be an elusive dream.

Taehyun sighs. It’s worse now that he lives alone and has grown used to his solitude. Sure, he has friends who come to barge in on him at different times of day—Kai and Beomgyu maintain little sense of decorum around him, in contrast to the Duke and Duchess of Hastings who, though good friends of his by now, do not come outside of calling hour without prior notice. They keep away the lonely spells in an estate that still doesn’t quite feel like his. But the silence isn’t unwelcome for a quieter person like he, and it remains a sharp contrast to the gaiety of the ton during the season. 

Which brings him back to here. Now. In some empty corridor of his host’s home, away from the staged smiles and bright lights of the ballroom. Somewhere he certainly shouldn’t be, but as long as he doesn’t get caught, Taehyun has little intention of returning to the fray until he can get his thoughts back in order. The muffled chatter of the party is still too loud here so he continues down the hallway, following the echoes of silence and…

Music?

He halts. Sure enough, now that he’s far enough from the noise of the ballroom, he can hear a soft, sweet melody coming from somewhere ahead of him. It’s haunting, lovely, and as he leans toward the sound he begins to recognize the notes of one of Beethoven’s sonatas. Part of the Tempest sonata, actually. One of the most difficult, and one of Taehyun’s personal favorites. 

Taehyun’s feet begin to move, the spell of the sonata carrying him to the end of the hallway. One of the doors has been opened just a crack and it’s easy to tell that’s where the secret pianist must be playing from, the melodies spinning into the air beyond the sliver of an open door.

Common sense tells him he should walk away. The musician seems to be alone—perhaps tired of the party, just like he—but nonetheless, that can’t spell good fortune for him, especially if they are a woman. Being caught alone with an unmarried debutante would only spell trouble for both of them, more her than he, and for her sake, at least, he can’t ruin her prospects just because he couldn’t turn away from her music. 

But something deeper keeps him rooted in place, breaths quiet and shallow, eyes half shut as he leans toward the door as much as he can without tripping over his feet. He enjoys fairy tales, though he is wont to admit it, loves stories of fantasy and magic, and he can’t help but compare these melodies to the spells he used to read about. For surely the pianist must be weaving a spell into the air, into every accent and crescendo, every passage of the sonata effortlessly magical to his ears. 

Taehyun loves music. He loves it almost as much as he loves literature. He took lessons and can play the piano as well as, if not better than many of his peers, but even he is nothing compared to the musician in that room. Nothing compared to the spell of their fingers dancing across the piano keys. 

Too soon, the music ends. And with its conclusion comes the realization that Taehyun needs to return to the party soon, or his absence will be noted—he’s already spent too much time away, if the two movements of the sonata he’s listened to are anything to go by. 

Taehyun forces himself to step away from the open door, from the lovely melodies and mysterious musician within. He doesn’t turn back even when a new piece begins, though soft notes follow him down the hall, all the way back to the party.

. . . . .

“Lady Taylor. Miss L/N.” The smile in front of you is sparkling in a way that leaves you dizzy. Or maybe that’s just the bright lights overhead. Either way, it is doing nothing to soothe the ache beginning to pulse between your temples. “I do not believe we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced.”

No, you haven’t. You don’t recognize this face or its too-bright smile. “I don’t believe we have,” you return, curving your lips as much as you can. “To what do I owe the pleasure…?”

“Mr. Haynesworth,” he says, angular eyes narrowing into what could be a pleasant expression if you weren’t so tired. “I noticed you were quite a fine dancer, and wanted to ask if you had a spot on your dance card that I could perhaps take.”

Without really meaning to, you glance at your aunt. She looks back, mostly impassive, but gives you a small nod. Yes, allow him. 

Your tongue tastes bitter even as you smile at Mr. Haynesworth. “Yes, I do. In fact, my next dance is free, should you like to dance the quadrille.” 

“An excellent choice,” he replies, and you have to try hard not to roll your eyes as he begins to sign his name on the card. What wouldn’t you give to be at home, in bed, purposely thinking about everything and anything but the season and your daughterly duty to find a husband? Lady Arina Park isn’t here to subtly nudge you in the direction of a music room and as far as you know, none of the Tillings play an instrument, so you can’t even snatch a quarter of an hour alone with your thoughts and music like you did at the last ball. Besides, your aunt would certainly scold you if she noticed you were gone, just like last time. 

It's not like it matters, though, because the orchestra music is fading, which means the next dance is about to begin, and you won’t be getting a chance to take a break. Mr. Haynesworth looks up from your card with a little smile and offers a hand. “Just in time,” he says genially. You do your best to feign enthusiasm as you take it. 

I hate this, you can’t help thinking, watching other couples take to the floor. You like to dance—honestly, you enjoy almost anything that has to do with music—but right here, right now, with all the eyes trying to discern who will win Her Majesty’s seasonal title of diamond of the first water (because of all the girls presented this season she still hasn’t picked one, and you harbor a nasty hope that she never will), it’s too much. The bright lights of the ballroom. The slippery silk of your gloves against your hands. Mr. Haynesworth’s pleasant smile as he asks you questions against the background of the orchestra’s new tune, each of them polite, noncommittal, and as meaningless as the last. 

“How are you finding the party tonight?”

I think the candles are trying to burn right through my eyes into my brain. “Quite lovely indeed.”

“How are you finding London in general? It must be a change from abroad, no?”

Boring. Stifling. Rainy. “It is very different, Mr. Haynesworth, though not unpleasant. I imagine that with time, I will grow used to it too.”

“So you do intend to find a husband this season, if you say you will be here for some time?”

If my father didn’t want me husband hunting, I wouldn’t be here. “Yes, that would be my intention.”

“I hope you will come to enjoy London then, Miss L/N. It is an old city, and it certainly has its charms.”

Of course. “Of course.”

He spins you under his arm and you come to face to face, his nice smile suddenly very close to your eyes. You almost stumble—muscle memory had been leading this dance as you tried to answer his questions through your growing headache, and in the midst of that you’d forgotten this part. “I read Whistledown,” he says, completely oblivious to the brief spike in your heart rate. 

Inwardly, you sigh. Ah, so you’re either going to ask me about piano, or ask me about the fact that the queen still has not chosen her diamond of the season.

“She says you are quite the pianist, Miss L/N.”

…You would have preferred questions about piano over the nonexistent diamond, it’s true, but what exactly are you supposed to say to that? “I have been playing since I was young.”

“A true prodigy, then. I wonder why the queen has not yet chosen a diamond, though there is clearly one right here.” Despite the compliment, his thin eyes suddenly seem too narrow, the planes of his face too sharp as he leans in ever so slightly. “I hear you spent quite some time with other royal courts during your…little tour. How were your travels?”

You nearly pause. Your head still hurts and between the dancing and conversation, your mind is being split onto two different tracks, so it takes you a moment to realize why Mr. Haynesworth’s words offended you.

Little tour.

You do not like how he said the words little tour.

It sounds like how your father talks about your performances abroad. It sounds like when your aunt tells you to stop practicing, it’s time for your French lesson. It sounds like when your cousin sticks her head into the music room and asks you to play more softly since it’s distracting from the conversation downstairs. 

Dismissal. Accidental or intentional, it doesn’t matter. It’s dismissal of you, your talent, your work, your passion.

Maybe you would have preferred questions about the nonexistent diamond instead.

“I enjoyed traveling and meeting new people during my tour, though it would have meant little without the music,” you reply, unable to rein in some of the bite to your words. “Music is my passion, Mr. Haynesworth, and the piano my medium. I’m afraid without either, my life would retain little meaning.” And for the first time that evening, it seems that the higher powers are on your side, because the tune of the quadrille is fading, which means the dance is ending. Keeping your current smile plastered firmly to your face, you sweep into a brief curtsy. “I must see to my aunt, Mr. Haynesworth, and so I take my leave. It was good to meet you.”

Lies, all lies, but it gets you off the dance floor without another word from him. Weaving blindly through the crowd, you follow the paths of fewest people until the chatter of the ballroom is just a faint buzz in your ears and blissful silence fills the air instead. 

A rush of air leaves your lips all at once and you put a hand to your chest, where your heart is beating just a little too uncomfortably fast. You’re outside the house, in the gardens, but in almost full view of the front of the home where carriages are lined up, their footmen at the ready. It would be lovely to just be alone, but in public that cannot be for fear of compromise, so you take solace in what little solitude you have now under the moon and stars.

You close your eyes for a long moment. You hadn’t realized earlier how hot the ballroom felt, but you certainly know it now as cool night air breezes across your face turned up to the sky. The stars twinkle overhead, comforting pinpricks of light so unlike the burning intensity of the candles and chandeliers within, and all at once you’re hit with the overwhelming thought that you absolutely do not want to go back inside. 

“I’m not going to survive this season,” you mutter, then quickly glance around—no one should have heard that, it sounds so whiney and childish. But in the moment it feels so true. And for two terrible seconds, you feel an overwhelming lump in your throat, a tightening in your chest—

No. You will not cry. Not here, not now. You bite back the tears, suddenly feeling so alone even in the solitude you sought. No one is on your side. Not your father, your own flesh and blood. Not the aunt who accompanied you here. Not even your governess, who is sweet and kind but ultimately bows to the whims of your father. Only your mother ever understood your calling to music and she’s dead, five years buried underground, and for all you have healed since that dark time, you still miss her. 

You miss her so, so much. 

One deep, shaky breath. Then another. Slowly, your heart rate calms into something that feels more normal, and you tilt your head back up to the sky, letting the midnight blue wash across your vision like a soft blanket. It comforts you enough that you almost don’t hear the footsteps against the stone path until they’re just a few feet away from you.

“Good evening,” a quiet, unfamiliar voice says. 

Conversation. Exactly what you wanted to avoid in the ballroom. Somehow, though, it doesn’t seem so daunting out here. Maybe it’s the silence. Maybe it’s the sky. Maybe it’s the gentle quality of this man’s quiet voice that makes it seem like he seeks the same solace from the night that you do, and nothing more.

“Good evening,” you reply, not quite looking at him as you dip a small curtsy. “Forgive me. I was only—”

“In need of some quiet?” He turns around and between the dark hair and half smile and large eyes, your breath lodges in your throat. But any nervousness at this man’s handsome face fades away when you see the softness hidden in his expression, the gentle uncertainty caught between his broad shoulders. “I have been in search of it all night.”

For all your previous mood, this man’s small smile makes you want to smile too. And so you let your lips curve slightly, more than you thought you could without forcing it, and as you do they begin to curve more. “It seems we are of the same spirit,” you say, and the night seems to laugh quietly with you both. “Miss Y/N L/N, good sir.”

“Taehyun Kang, Earl of Addiston.” He bows slightly. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

. . . . .

A comfortable silence has fallen, and Taehyun has little desire to disturb it, but your name keeps rolling around his head, a little too familiar for someone he’s only met today. There’s something about your face, too. He’s certain the two of you have never been introduced—he’s fairly sure he would have remembered your smile, which seems to complement the night sky perfectly—but at the same time…

Someone opens the door to the mansion and a few orchestral notes follow them outside. Orchestra. Music. 

Oh. 

“Might I ask…” he begins slowly. He almost wishes he could take back his words when you turn to him, but he’s already started, so he continues. “You are Miss Y/N L/N, the celebrated pianist?”

You lips part, like you didn’t expect the question. Embarrassment starts to crawl up his cheeks—it would be mortifying if you said no, even more so if you had no idea who he was talking about—but then you nod, surprise still coating your features. “Yes, my lord. I am.”

Oh. Oh. This is—maybe worse than if you’d said no. Because this means Taehyun is in the presence of someone famous, someone with celebrity, someone he admires and respects even though they’ve never met face to face before—

Calm down. “I saw one of your performances a few years ago,” he says, forcing his voice to remain level. You open your mouth to say something but Taehyun barrels on because if he doesn’t say it now he’ll never say it again. “I was in Germany to visit a friend. We went together. I, um—” and this is when he stutters, because of course it is—“I found your performance most impressive. Particularly Beethoven’s Appassionata. Your interpretation…it was perfect to me. There was a delicacy to it that made it uniquely beautiful.” He coughs and prays the night hides the warmth that has crept into his cheeks. “I suppose I just wanted to say that you are a very talented musician, and you must have worked very hard to come so far.” 

You look away, and in that moment Taehyun does fear that he said too much. He might have presumed a level of familiarity you weren’t comfortable with, or maybe you don’t appreciate being complimented in public, or maybe he just said the wrong thing—but then you look back at him, and even with only the moon and stars to light your face, it’s plain to see the smile curving across your lips, pleased and proud and limited only by the shyness and humility of your nature, evident as you give him a small curtsy again. “Thank you very much, my lord,” you say, and if your smile was complemented by the night before, now it sparkles at brightly as any of the stars. “It means…so much to me that you would say such a thing. Truly.”

Taehyun smiles. A little more shyly than he’d like, but no matter. “It is not a difficult thing to say these things,” he replies. “Your performance then was impeccable, as I’m sure it is now.” And now that the connection has been made, a memory from the second ball of the season suddenly returns, of a dark corridor and a beautiful sonata. Were you—? “If I may ask, were you the one playing the piano at the Kims’ ball just a week ago?” 

You blink. “You…heard that?”

All of a sudden Taehyun realizes the implications of his words—that he was at the ball, that he decided to leave to wander the dark corridors, that he heard you playing and not only didn’t hasten away at once but stayed to listen for long enough to make this connection. None of them paint him in the best light, and one of them is far worse than the others, if taken the wrong way. “I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, and if his face wasn’t warm before, it certainly is now. “I happened upon it by accident. I was only trying to find some quiet away from the ball—” 

“Much as you were just now,” you interrupt, and Taehyun almost flushes even more before he sees the small, amused smile on your lips. 

“Yes,” he agrees sheepishly. “I heard music coming from one of the rooms and it was…beautiful. The Tempest is one of my favorite of Beethoven’s works. You played it wonderfully, and I couldn’t help but stay and listen for some time.” He bows his head. “I hope I have not been too forward or made you uncomfortable. If I have, I do apologize.”

“Do not apologize,” you say, a bashful hint returning to your own voice that Taehyun finds very endearing, especially when you duck your head slightly. “Please, my lord. I am only…deeply honored that you hold me in such high regard.”

Taehyun relaxes, his own smile growing wider. “Earning that regard was not difficult,” he says. “Even my friend, who has much less knowledge of music than I do, was fairly blown away, and almost inspired to take piano lessons because of you.”

You laugh. “You must jest, my lord.” 

“I do not,” he replies, laughing as well. “He is not here tonight, but perhaps someday you two will meet, and his praise will be even more effusive than mine.” 

“In that case, I eagerly await that day.” You look at him, a question in your eyes. “Might I ask, my lord—you mentioned that you have some knowledge of music? Are you a musician yourself?”

“Oh, I…dabble.” Taehyun laughs a little. “With the piano. I quite enjoy it, but I am nowhere near as good as you.”

“But you have a musician’s ear and heart,” you say, conviction in your tone, and Taehyun finds himself rooted under the strength of your gaze, under the stars, under the night sky. “You appreciate the art and the work that goes into it, which is more than I can say for most.”

Taehyun opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “I suppose you are right.”

You duck your head a bit, shoulders suddenly hunching. “I apologize, if I was too forward—”

“Not at all!” he says quickly. “No, not at all. Forgive me, it has simply been a long night and my conversing skills are somewhat frayed at the moment. I appreciate your words, Miss L/N. Very much.”

For a moment, you seem to search his face, like you’re looking for something. Whatever it is, you seem to find it, and when you do, your shoulders thankfully relax. “I was only speaking what I felt to be the truth, my lord. And, for what it is worth…” You pause, your expression somewhat strange before it settles into a genuine smile. “This conversation is one of only a few that I have truly enjoyed tonight.”

He laughs, your quip unexpected but welcome. “It must have been a long night for you too, then?”

“You have no idea.” This time, you two laugh together. “Actually, I’m sure you do. There are only so many times you can be asked the same questions and give the same answers, or hear the same topics and remain sane.” You shake your head. “If the queen plans to choose a diamond this season, I wish she would just hurry up and do so. It seems to be all anyone can talk about nowadays.”

Taehyun raises an eyebrow. “She has not yet chosen one?”

“Apparently not.” You shrug. “My cousins say Lady Whistledown writes about it in every issue. I suppose it is a source of gossip, but…to be quite frank, I do not understand why the queen’s opinion on one woman reigns so supreme in the marriage mart. Should not the couple choose each other based on their own perceived merits, and not solely because the queen approves of one but not the other?” A short pause, and then your shoulders slump. “Though perhaps I only do not understand because I have been away for so long.”

“Well, I quite agree with you,” Taehyun says frankly. “I do agree that the queen’s approval would be a feather in anyone’s cap, but anyone who only sees the title of diamond and nothing else, I believe, would not make a happy marriage, even if the diamond agreed to the match. I don’t believe a title alone is any sort of solid foundation upon which to make a partnership.” 

You look up, meeting his eyes, and a moment of understanding seems to pass between the two of you. A smile that looks much like relief curves your lips. “I agree, my lord,” you say softly. “It is a relief to know that I am not the only one of these opinions.”

Taehyun came outside for fresh air, for a respite from the chaotic buzz of the party inside. He came outside for solitude. But though he found conversation instead, he finds himself feeling better than he perhaps would have, had he immediately gained the silence he sought. Your quiet, frank honesty is as refreshing to Taehyun as the night air itself and he realizes he would love to continue your conversation, if not for—

“Y/N!”

Both of you start at the sudden shout of your name from the mansion doors. An older woman comes striding out, a stranger to Taehyun but evidently more familiar to you. Not altogether welcome, though, it seems—your shoulders tense and immediately your gaze shutters somewhat as the woman draws closer. “Lady Taylor,” you say quietly, turning back to Taehyun with a smile significantly more strained than before. “My aunt, and my chaperone tonight.”

He nods once. “I see.”

“Y/N, I’ve been looking for you for half the night,” Lady Taylor scolds as soon as she is near enough, which does little to endear her to Taehyun after she interrupted his time with you. “Why do you insist on disappearing so?”

“My apologies, Aunt Taylor,” you say. Taehyun doesn’t miss the brief clench of your fingers at your sides. “I went to find some fresh air, and then found myself caught up in conversation with Lord Kang.” You gesture to him. “Lord Kang, please meet my aunt, Lady Taylor, Viscountess of Wentworth.”

Taehyun bows politely as your aunt curtsies. “A pleasure, my lady. I am Lord Kang, Earl of Addiston.”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly at the mention of his title, and he bites back a sigh. So she knows of his estate and inheritance, too. “Charmed, my lord,” is all she says, though, before turning back to you. “Please forgive my interruption. Y/N, you must come back inside. The ball is not yet over, and several gentlemen are still waiting to dance with you.”

You glance down at your dance card, then back up at him, your face twisted in apology. “I must do as my aunt says,” you say quietly. “Though it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord.”

“And the same to you.” He smiles as easily as he can, and maybe he’s just hoping, but your smile seems to become a little less forced too. “It is getting late and I’m sure your dance card must be full, so I will not keep you further. However…” He inclines his head slightly, respectfully. “Perhaps if we meet again, I hope you will indulge me if I ask you to save a dance for me, so that we might continue our conversation where it left off?”

This time, he’s sure he’s not imagining the softening of your face and the return of some sparkle to your eyes. “I would be honored to, my lord,” you say, curtsying. “Have a good night.”

He bows. “I wish the same to you.”

. . . . .

The last few days since the Tillings’ ball have been dreary and wet, full of gray clouds and rain. Today, though, when you wake, the clouds have cleared to reveal the bright sun set against a shimmering blue sky. When your cousins come bursting into the music room to take you on a walk, you don’t even argue—the afternoon looks beautiful, and even you are itching to go outside. 

“You spend so much time cooped up in that little room,” your oldest cousin scolds when you meet everyone in the entryway, though there’s a smile on her face so you try not to take her words the wrong way. “You need some fresh air.”

You smile back as best as you can. “I appreciate the concern, Lilly, but worry not. I’m as eager to see the sun as you are.”

It is pleasant, feeling the sun on your skin after days of grey skies and intermittent rainfall pattering on your windows as you tried to practice. Truth be told, by yesterday you were feeling restless, too, so you can’t even blame the children of your family for wanting to run around as they do now, leaping happily under the blue sky. 

You stick to the back of the group, quietly watching Lilly and your other cousins try to corral their children under the watchful eye of Aunt Taylor. Jieun looks particularly frazzled as she tries to chase down her youngest and you take pity on her, scooping up the child the next time she runs past and giving her little forehead a small tap that makes her giggle. “Be careful,” you warn gently, handing her to a grateful Jieun. “Don’t get hurt, or your mother will worry, yes?”

It's not just your family. It seems as though the entirety of London has come out to enjoy the wonderful weather. The park is green and bright and almost seems to shimmer under the sun, and laughter and chatter fill the air with faint birdsong. You may enjoy spending your time cooped up in that little room, as your cousin says, but you are glad you came out today for the sun on your skin and the joy in the air.

“You are good with the children,” Lilly says beside your ear. You start—you hadn’t realized she was so close until she spoke. “Won’t it be wonderful when you have children of your own, and they can all play together?”

Please, Lilly. “Maybe.” 

“Sound more excited, will you?” she laughs. “You can’t mean to not have children. Or are you already married to your music?”

Your smile is wavering, but you heave it back up with the teeth-gritting reminder that she doesn’t mean it badly, she doesn’t mean it badly, she doesn’t mean it badly. “I’m not married to my music, insofar as I cannot marry an intangible thing,” you respond as dryly as you can. “I’m not sure even the priests at Gretna Green would agree to perform such a ceremony.”

“You know what I mean,” Lilly says, scooping up one of her children. Both of them seem to eye you in a way that makes you feel defensive. “When will you emerge from your music room, Y/N, to see the rest of the world around you?”

That’s not fair, you want to say. I have emerged from my music room. I just find that I don’t necessarily enjoy what—or who—awaits me outside.

Like the incessant demand that you marry and produce children for an unnamed man who will control you for the rest of your life. 

“I see the world as much as I like to,” is all you say instead, but Lilly has already been distracted by her toddler trying to wiggle out of her arms. You leave her to it, and drift behind everyone once more. 

It’s not that you don’t want to have children. It’s not even that you don’t want to get married. It’s just that you resent the fact that it is your only option. You don’t even think you’d mind marriage and children if you could still live with your music, but the way everyone else talks about it, it’s always one or the other. Give up marriage for the piano. Give up the piano for marriage.

Not that the first option is even a choice. 

You take a deep breath. Breathe in the fresh air, the scent of flowers and grass. The sky doesn’t seem as blue as before, nor does the sunshine feel as welcoming, but it’s still there, and it’s still pleasant enough. Lilly means well, and she doesn’t mean to be dismissive. You’re still unmarried and still not the diamond. The world isn’t ending.

Jieun’s youngest finds her way behind your skirts once more, giggling when you turn around to chase her down. A smile finds its way to your face that isn’t forced because she really is adorable, and her little laughs soften your expression when you swing her up and warn her again not to hurt herself.

“Miss L/N?”

You whirl around. As does the rest of your family. 

“…Lord Kang?”

There he is standing just a few feet away, looking as surprised to see you as you are to see him. “Miss L/N,” he says again, a smile spreading across his face. “I didn’t expect to see you, though I suppose you and your family are here to enjoy the weather as well?”

“Yes, we are.” You smile back, trying not to cringe when the toddler still in your arms tries to grab at your hair. Thankfully, Jieun appears to relieve you of her child in that moment, whispering hurried apologies into your ear as she whisks past. “My family thought it would be good for the children to see the sun.”

“And for you!” Lilly whirls into the conversation with a beatific smile and the outward countenance of nothing but an angel. You grit your teeth as she continues. “My cousin spends far too much time indoors at that piano of hers, she hardly sees the sunlight.”

Lord have mercy. 

“Well, I have heard she is quite accomplished at it,” Lord Kang replies easily, that smile never wavering on his face. “Something has clearly come of all those hours she has dedicated to practicing.” He turns to you with that lovely smile and those dark eyes, and while he was handsome under the night sky, it can’t compare to what he looks like now, under the sun. “It seems good fortune has brought us together before the next ball of the season, Miss L/N. Would you mind if I joined your walk, so that we might continue our conversation from the other night?”

Well. You blink once or twice, casting a glance at your aunt, who seems about as confused as you are. In the absence of her input, you choose to assent. “Of course, my lord. We would be honored.”

And so the walk continues, though Lilly and Jieun continue to shoot you confused and excited glances every so often. You ignore them as you best you can, which isn’t hard when Lord Kang is beside you. 

“It’s good to see you, my lord,” you say. “How have you been since the Tillings’ ball?”

“Well enough, though the rain has been somewhat dragging on my mood over the past few days.” He shrugs. “Such is London, though.”

“It is a bit dreadful to think of, if this is what it’s always like,” you say, only half joking. “More time for me to practice, I suppose, though I must admit I am very happy to see the sun.”

“And to be with your family?”

“…Of course,” you respond quickly, though you’re sure he can see exactly how you feel about the group you’re walking with, judging by his half smile. 

“I understand,” he says quietly. “It is not always easy when one’s kin doesn’t quite appreciate the depths of one’s interests.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You have experience with it too, my lord?”

“With music, somewhat,” he admits. “But more so reading. My family is well-read, of course, but many of them cannot fathom that I would usually rather be in my library than socializing with the ton.”

“I would agree with your sentiment.” The two of you laugh. “What do you like to read?”

It takes a little prodding, but your question eventually launches Lord Kang into a spiel about classics, about authors old and new, novels and philosophy and literature of times so far in the past that you almost can’t fathom it. Truth be told, you don’t know much about what he speaks of—you enjoy reading, but your books of choice tend to be the popular novels of today, and while you recognize some of the classic titles he mentions you can’t say you particularly enjoyed them. But listening to him talk about them, hearing the passion behind his every word, is captivating in a way that you’d never have thought possible when speaking of Plato and Aristotle. And in the midst of this, he never makes you feel out of place or stupid. He answers each of your questions with enthusiastic verve no matter how basic they are, and by the time his friends are calling for him from the end of the park, you’re both so wrapped in your conversation that you almost don’t hear them. 

“I’m afraid I must go,” Lord Kang apologizes when you finally point out the two men making their way towards you. “I promised I would meet them later.” He suddenly looks a little shy, which is a more endearing expression than you’d have expected on his handsome face. “I hope I did not bore you with my talk. I know this subject is not the most interesting to everyone and I can get…carried away with it.”

“Not at all,” you respond immediately. “Truly, not at all. I love hearing about the interests that others have, and clearly this is a deep one of yours. I enjoyed our conversation immensely.” You draw a short breath. “In truth, it was…very good to speak with someone other than my family today.” Your smile, though not forced, feels considerably smaller than it was before. “I do not have many friends in the ton, as I was abroad for so long. Thank you for taking pity on a poor soul such as I, and speaking to me as one.”

Lord Kang steps forward and takes your hand gently, so gently. When he looks into your eyes it is as though he sees all of your soul and your breath catches at the warmth of his palm against yours. “It was never pity,” he says sincerely. “You are a wonderful person with whom to speak, and if I may presume, the beginnings of a very good friend. I look forward to the next time I may see you.” 

You fight to keep your voice steady against the rush of heat in your cheeks. “And I you, my lord. Have a wonderful evening.”

The setting sun perfectly frames his lovely smile. “Until next time, then.” 

The pressure of his lips against your skin lingers long after he has disappeared, long after you have returned home, and long after you have retired for the night.

. . . . .

Beomgyu pounces the moment they’re all seated at the club. “So who was that?”

Taehyun really should have expected this. Even with that knowledge, though, he still has to roll his eyes. “Who are you talking about?” he can’t resist asking. Beomgyu is annoying. He has to be annoying back, sometimes. 

“The girl you were with. The debutante.” Beomgyu grins, undeterred. “Who is she?”

Taehyun gives up. He’ll never win against Beomgyu. “Miss Y/N L/N,” he says, conceding defeat. “We met at the Tillings’ ball a few days ago.”

Kai’s eyes widen. “The pianist?” 

“That’s the one.” Taehyun grins. “I told her you were almost inspired to take lessons because of her.” Kai groans, and Taehyun’s smile only widens. “She was flattered.”

“And I bet she laughed,” Beomgyu adds. 

“She did.”

Kai just screams into his hands. 

“I don’t believe that you didn’t make a fool out of yourself either,” Beomgyu accuses amidst Kai’s muffled screaming. “You admired her at least as much as he did, probably more for your love of music. How much of an idiot did you look when you realized it was her?”

Taehyun is an honest man, but only to a point. “Not much at all.”

Beomgyu snorts, but that’s when their drinks arrive, so Taehyun thanks the higher powers for intervening before he was forced into revealing the truth of warm cheeks and night air. “And how goes you and your lady friend?” Taehyun asks before Beomgyu can pick up his line of questioning again. “Last I remember, she was threatening to slit your throat with your own letter opener. Have there been any recent developments?”

It’s Kai’s turn to laugh while Beomgyu scowls. “Oh, are there,” Kai snickers. “It’s only the most interesting thing in Whistledown right now, second only to the continued absence of a diamond in the field of this season’s debutantes.”

Taehyun raises an eyebrow. “It’s made it into Whistledown?”

“An entire paragraph on the row they had at the last party in the country, right before the season started.” Kai grins. “I know you aren’t a fan of the gossip papers, Taehyun, but you have to read this one. I’ll send you a copy tomorrow. I can only wonder why Whistledown decided to wait until this issue to write about it, though perhaps such a sensational story needed several weeks to perfect.” 

Beomgyu scowls even harder as Taehyun laughs. “I don’t know why that woman Whistledown can’t mind her own business,” he complains. “It was a private argument.”

“A private argument in the gardens outside the host’s home, loud enough that we heard it from inside,” Taehyun says dryly.

“Yes, well, she’s irritating,” Beomgyu snaps, taking a gulp of his drink like he needs it to clear his memory. “Why do you keep asking me about her? I don’t want to talk about it, she’s infuriating.”

“You sure talk about her a lot for someone who says he doesn’t want to talk about her,” Taehyun smirks. “Also, you’re the one who tried to embarrass me first.”

Beomgyu growls. “It’s just ridiculous that she’s still angry over something from when we were children!”

“I don’t know, Beomgyu.” Taehyun shakes his head, hiding a smile. “I was there, and that was a lot of cake. And it washer birthday.”

“Yes, well, she threw dirt at me after that!”

“It sounds to me like you’re still pretty hung up over something from when you were children, too.” Kai sips at his drink, eyes glittering amusedly over the glass. 

Beomgyu just glares at both of them. 

“Alright, we’ll stop.” Taehyun snickers. “At least until I read the copy that Kai’s going to give me.”

“Read all you want.” Beomgyu rolls your eyes. “It’s one paragraph. And from the look you were giving the L/N girl earlier, that’s not even going to be the most interesting part of the paper to you.”

Taehyun blinks. “What?”

“She’s been in the papers,” Kai says. “She’s famous, remember? Whistledown gave her a whole half paragraph when she returned to town and her father announced her debut.”

Taehyun resists the urge to hit himself over the head. If he’d been in the habit of reading the gossip papers, maybe he wouldn’t have been so damn blindsided when he spoke to you at the Tillings’ ball the first time. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“I always make sense,” Kai sniffs, pointedly ignoring both Taehyun and Beomgyu’s snorts. “But how is she, as a person and as a debutante? I’m quite curious as to the persona behind the world-famous pianist.”

Taehyun opens his mouth, then closes it. Takes a sip of his drink. How exactly should he describe you to people you haven’t even met? You’ve only spoken twice—does he even have the right to say anything? “She’s very sweet,” he eventually says. “A bit shy, I think. It’s interesting—she doesn’t seem to enjoy being in the spotlight, though she clearly enjoys piano and performance. But she’s very humble, and I think she’s a very bright young lady.”

“Not without her own sort of wit and charm, then?” 

Beomgyu’s looking at Taehyun in a way he isn’t quite sure what to make of, but he answers anyway. “Very much so. You would probably enjoy a conversation with her.” He smirks at Beomgyu over his glass. “She’d probably like you, against her better judgment.”

Beomgyu cackles. “Of course she would, I’m a joy to be around.”

“You’re certainly something to be around, though I’m not sure I’d use the word ‘joy,’” Kai intones, taking a sip of his drink. “Is she adjusting to London well? She was abroad for a good many years.”

A snippet of your conversation from earlier comes to Taehyun’s mind. Your admission that after spending so much time away from London, you don’t have many people with whom to have a simple conversation with, just as simple friends. “She seems to be fine,” Taehyun replies slowly. “Though she mentioned it was a bit difficult to make friends after so long abroad.” He can’t imagine how hard the season must be for you, with a family who doesn’t respect your passion and no one to really confide in. For all he teases Kai and Beomgyu, he can’t imagine navigating life without them.

“The Duchess of Hastings was in a similar situation before she married Yeonjun,” Beomgyu says, and he’s giving Taehyun that strange, discerning look that he couldn’t decipher before. “Why don’t you introduce the two? Her Grace also quite enjoys music, I think they would get along quite well.”

“Invite her to the Hastings’ gathering next week,” Kai adds. “Of course ask the duchess first, but I’m sure she’d be happy to extend the invite.”

That’s actually brilliant, and Taehyun is privately put out that he didn’t think of the idea first. The more he thinks of it, the more he’s certain that you and his cousin could be good friends. “Yes, I’ll do that,” he says, half-rising out of his chair. “I’ll write to the duchess as soon as I can.”

“Surely not now?” Kai raises an eyebrow at Taehyun’s half-standing position. “You still have the whole night, there’s no reason to leave your drink unfinished.”

Taehyun flushes and sits back down. Kai’s comment makes complete sense—why was he standing up so urgently, anyway? “Of course,” he says, taking a sip to hide his embarrassment even though it’s definitely not fooling anyone. “By the way, Kai, how are your family affairs going? Surely your uncle still isn’t trying to lay claim to any part of your inheritance.”

It’s an obvious ploy to distract from his own embarrassment but Kai thankfully takes the bait, immediately putting forth an impassioned spiel about his arguments with his uncle’s idiotic solicitor that would put any of Shakespeare’s soliloquies to shame. It’s easy enough to laugh along and commiserate with Kai’s troubles that Taehyun allows his mind to wander a little, to the thought of you and the duchess meeting, to the beautiful music that is sure to follow, to the smile that will hopefully adorn your lips when you meet another woman who appreciates music as much as you. 

“You’re smiling an awful lot, Taehyun,” Beomgyu says, bringing Taehyun’s attention back to the present. He’s smirking a little and so is Kai, but Taehyun for the life of him cannot understand why. “Did you find Kai’s story really that funny?”

“No, I’m sorry.” He sips his drink, gesturing for Kai to continue. “I just got a little lost in thought.”

Kai keeps talking, and Taehyun goes back to listening. In the back of his mind, though, he’s hearing soft melodies in the darkened corridor of a mansion, and seeing the night sky twinkling above. 

. . . . .

Maybe someday receiving callers will no longer make you feel like flying to pieces. 

Today, however, is not that day. 

Four gentlemen callers—one of them Mr. Haynesworth, with whom you almost couldn’t hide your displeasure at seeing. The other three were pleasant enough and mostly inoffensive, but by the time the fourth caller came, you were running out of ways to begin small talk and based on your aunt’s subtle glare in your direction, it had probably started to show. 

It’s somewhat amusing, if not also somewhat depressing, how bad you are at speaking with strangers. You’ve performed for royal courts and houses of nobility for years, but when it comes to carrying a conversation, you can only bumble your way through inane small talk for so long before you run out of the headspace for it. Though privately, you think that’s a little unfair—it seems only right that it would be the caller’s job to ensure the conversation kept going, since they were the one who made the call, so you shouldn’t have to put in all the effort. But based on every glare or sniff or cough your aunt sent in your direction whenever the conversation faltered, that apparently is not the case.

It’s over, though. At least you think it is—it’s nearly five and no one has showed up since the last caller left. And if it isover, that means you have no one to entertain for the rest of the day. Your governess has already promised to bring your dinner to your room, and you plan on locking yourself in your music room for the rest of the night after that.

It’s like a reward.

“The biscuits are almost gone,” Aunt Taylor says, standing up from the settee. “I will have a servant bring more.” She fixes you with a stern stare. “Don’t slouch. It is not quite five, and you may still receive another caller yet.” She then sweeps out of the room, and once she’s gone, you slump into the cushions a little more, ignoring your governess’s fretful eyes. 

As if anyone would come calling now, really. Ten minutes to five, which means hardly enough time to begin a conversation once the initial pleasantries were dished out even if someone arrived right at this second. You sink a little further into the couch. Aunt Taylor won’t be back for another couple of minutes at least. You can take at least that long to be comfortable. 

Sooner than you’d like, footsteps sound in the hall outside. You quickly pull yourself up, smoothing out your dress, and await the renewed presence of your aunt. 

Only it isn’t your aunt. You blink when a footman enters instead, a card held in his hand. “A caller, my lady,” he says, squinting at the card. “Lord Kang, Earl of Addiston.”

What?

Of course, it is then that your aunt decides to sweep back into the room. “Another caller?” she asks sharply as a trailing servant places a refilled plate of biscuits on the table. “Who?”

Thankfully, your governess has recovered from the surprise more quickly than you have. “A Lord Kang, my lady,” she says. “Earl of Addiston.”

Your aunt throws you a sharp glance. Inwardly, you wilt a little—she’ll be sure to interrogate you after this, asking you to recount every last detail of your and the earl’s conversation yesterday in the park even though you already told her everything you could remember last night during dinner—but for now she says nothing as she nods to the footman. “Bring him in, please.”

For some reason, when you stand, your heart begins to race. You force yourself to take slow, deep breaths. It may be Lord Kang, but he called with only five minutes—now less—left on the clock. Surely he can’t have much to say. 

Though, a little voice in the back of your mind says, you’d much rather talk to him than any of the four who came earlier today.

Footsteps sound lightly in the hall, thankfully keeping you from pursuing that train of thought down unsavory paths. But then Lord Kang appears in the doorway, looking as handsome and gentle and polite as he has every time you’ve spoken to him, and it’s all you can do to keep your voice steady as you welcome him to your home. 

“Lord Kang.” You curtsy, your smile widening in a way that comes more easily now than it has all day. “Welcome. I hope you have been well since we last spoke.”

“I have been, and it is a pleasure to see you all again,” he replies, bowing politely. His eyes meet yours and, in the sunlight streaming softly through the window, they almost seem to sparkle. “I apologize for calling so late in the hour, but I had some business I had to attend to before I delivered this to you.” He produces a small envelope from a pocket and extends it to you.

You look at your aunt, who seems equally bemused as you. “If I may ask, my lord, what is this?” you ask, feeling the smooth paper between your fingers. 

“My cousin, the Duchess of Hastings, is hosting a small party next weekend,” he says, either ignoring or not hearing the collective half-gasp in the room at the mention of the duchess. “She and the duke have just come in from the country for the season, and she is holding a gathering for some friends and family. I mentioned that I had met you, and she was quite excited to extend you an invite—she is also an avid enjoyer of music and wonderful pianist, so I am sure you two will get along very well.”

You feel a little lightheaded. Sure, you’ve performed for royalty, but you’ve never been on close terms with any of them. You were very clearly the entertainer and they the entertained, with very little chance to cross that line even if you were of a mind to. But now Lord Kang is offering you the chance to become acquainted to a duchess, just a step below royalty, and who loves music and is a pianist at that—

One corner of the envelope digs into your finger. Just a slight pain, but enough to remind you that this is real and not a dream.

A quick glance at your aunt earns you a subtle but very emphatic nod, so you look back to Lord Kang with a smile wider than it has been all day. “Please tell the duchess that I would be delighted to come,” you say. “Thank you for the invite, my lord. I do look forward to this event.”

“It is my pleasure.” Lord Kang smiles, and you don’t think it’s your imagination when you muse that it might be a little brighter than it was before. It’s certainly not your imagination when you briefly think you might like to look at that smile for a lot longer. But then the clock chimes and the smile falls, replaced by a sheepish expression. “Apologies again for calling so late, my lady.”

You shake your head. “It was no inconvenience at all.”

“Be that as it may, I will not keep you longer than the calling hour lasts,” he says, sweeping a bow. “Good day, Miss L/N, Lady Taylor. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

. . . . .

“Taehyun!”

Taehyun turns to the sound of his name, not bothering to hide the wide smile spreading across his face when he sees who called for him. “Your Grace,” he greets as his cousin comes closer, her eyes sparkling. “It’s good to see you.”

She waves a hand. “Dispense with the formalities,” she sniffs, and then they both laugh. “How have you been? Oh—remind me before you leave, but my footman will help bring some of the books I need to return to your carriage.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” he says sincerely. “I also brought some of my own books to recommend, as well as the ones you asked for. And I’ve been well, though I’ve learned that the season is rather more…daunting, than I would have expected.”

The duchess nods sympathetically. “I don’t honestly believe it’s fun for anyone,” she admits. “Except maybe the dancing. But there are plenty of young ladies this season who would be a good match for anyone, if Whistledown is to be believed. Speaking of.” Her gaze wanders to the entrance. “Is that her? The debutante you asked to invite?”

Taehyun turns around, catching sight of a familiar face, and smiles. “Yes, that is.”

You step into the room with a sort of trepidation that Taehyun sorely understands. In the moments before you see him, you look somewhat lost, your own eyes wide as you take in the whole room. Your expression seems a bit overwhelmed so Taehyun wastes no time in catching your eye, and when you recognize him something like relief seems to pass over your face. Somehow, you two meet in the middle of the fray and for one strange moment Taehyun finds himself almost breathless. “Lady Taylor. Miss L/N,” he greets, pressing a soft kiss to your gloved hand. “I’m so glad you were able to come. Please allow me to introduce you to Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings.”

Lady Taylor curtsies, as do you. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace,” she says, her strong voice carrying just a hint of awe. “I am Lady Taylor, Viscountess of Wentworth, and this is my niece, Y/N L/N, daughter of the Viscount L/N.”

“It is wonderful to meet you both,” his cousin says, beaming widely. “And especially an honor to have met you, Miss L/N. You’ve caused quite a stir in town with your own fame here and abroad.”

Surprise flutters across your expression, replaced with a sort of embarrassed pride that Taehyun finds very endearing. “Your words do honor me, Your Grace,” you say, voice soft and shy, something of a far cry from the animation you displayed during the Tillings’ ball, or during your brief promenade in the park. You don’t look frightened, though, just somewhat in awe, so Taehyun brushes off his initial concern. “Particularly since the earl has mentioned that you are a lover of music, too. You give me high praise.”

Taehyun watches his cousin laugh and blush a little, and happiness bursts in a small bubble in his chest. She’s settled beautifully into her role as duchess and into her life with Yeonjun, but she’s still looking to widen her own circle of friends after spending so long abroad. The two of you begin to converse, your own shy face animating the more you speak, and with a smile and quick excuse, Taehyun ducks out of the conversation, heading toward the other end of the room. 

Yeonjun catches his eye first. “Taehyun!” he calls, beaming wide. 

“Your Grace,” Taehyun replies, settling into the circle that includes the duke, Beomgyu, Soobin, and Kai. “How have you all been?” 

Yeonjun pulls an exaggerated frown. “Hasn’t my wife told you to dispense with the pleasantries when we are among friends?” he asks, and Taehyun laughs because yes, she did exactly that. “Come, have a drink.”

Taehyun accepts the proffered glass and takes a sip. “You really pulled out all the stops for this,” he says approvingly, swirling the amber liquid inside. 

“What can I say?” Yeonjun shrugs airily. “My wife organized this. The least I could do is help make the event a success.”

“With expensive alcohol,” Soobin deadpans. 

“Exactly.”

Next to Taehyun, Beomgyu coughs very strangely. It almost sounds like he’s saying something like head over heels, actually. Then he yelps and Taehyun looks down just quickly enough to see Soobin’s foot pressing hard onto Beomgyu’s. 

Kai and Taehyun exchange glances. Taehyun has to look away to avoid bursting into laughter. 

“Don’t worry, Beomgyu.” Yeonjun beams beatifically over his own glass of expensive alcohol, sharp eyes glinting at his cousin. “Someday you’ll find a lady who will send you into fits of apoplexy with her beauty and wit, and on that day you’ll understand. Or maybe you’ve already found her.” He adopts a thinking expression. “Who was it that Whistledown mentioned? The lady from your childhood, Miss—”

Beomgyu lets out an incomprehensible noise somewhere between a screech and a snarl, and if they weren’t in Yeonjun’s own home, Taehyun thinks Beomgyu might have jumped the duke. As it stands, though, they begin bickering, which leaves Kai, Soobin, and himself to look at each other with raised eyebrows and exasperated smiles. 

“Let’s step away from the rabble,” Soobin suggests, and the three of them drift a short distance away. “I don’t understand how I’m related to them, sometimes.”

“Well, every family has its own set of strange relations,” Kai mutters. 

“You would know,” Taehyun says, and they all snort. 

“Do the inheritance squabbles still show no sign of ending?” Soobin asks curiously. “I would have thought by now that it’s become abundantly clear your uncle has no real claim to anything your grandfather left.”

Kai rolls his eyes. “Unfortunately not. But let us not speak of it now, please. Not in polite company,” he says, indicating the rest of the room. “Join me at the club sometime, and I will update you on all of it.”

“Of course,” Soobin says, dipping his head in apology. “How about you, Taehyun? How goes the season? I know you intended to find a wife by the end of it.”

Without really meaning to, Taehyun’s gaze wanders to the other end of the room, where you are still engaged in lively conversation with the duchess. “It is tiring in a way I did not really expect,” he replies. “Taemin didn’t complain much when he went through it, at least. But…” He pauses, wondering how much to tell. “I have met some very interesting young ladies.”

Kai snorts. Taehyun flashes him a short glare. “What?”

His friend doesn’t back down, just raises one mischievous eyebrow over his drink. “Well, I just think that I would say there’s one young lady that you find more interesting than all of the others.” 

Taehyun’s ears burn. He very purposely avoids looking in your direction again. 

“Well, do tell.” Soobin cocks his head, his own eyes glinting. “And don’t spare details.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Taehyun snaps, ignoring Kai’s snicker. “I’ve been speaking to Miss L/N, is all. The pianist,” he clarifies, and Soobin’s eyes widen in recognition. “She’s a very lovely young woman. Accomplished, not just with the piano, and very kind.”

“So lovely, actually, that he asked Her Grace to invite her today,” Kai adds. 

“Which one is she?” Soobin asks, ignoring Taehyun’s hiss of you suggested inviting her first! “Is she the lady speaking to the duchess now, with the rather dour-faced woman behind her?”

Taehyun sighs in defeat and nods. “Yes, she is.”

They all turn together, and almost at the same moment, the duchess turns in his direction as well. She catches his eye and immediately starts to head his way, bringing a small group with her. Kai glances at him with an eyebrow raised, but all Taehyun can do is shrug with similar confusion.

“Lord Kang,” she says as soon as they’re near enough to speak. “Mr. Huening. I understand that the two of you have seen Miss L/N perform before in Germany?”

They nod. “It was a most impressive performance,” Taehyun says earnestly. “A lovely program, played beautifully and wonderfully well.”

“Incredibly so,” Kai chimes in. “In fact, I was almost inspired to take music lessons because of it.”

You look supremely embarrassed, but the smile on your lips is still sparkling in your eyes in a way Taehyun hasn’t seen yet. “So you are the friend Lord Kang mentioned when we first met,” you say, and Taehyun has to laugh even as Kai flushes in embarrassment. “Oh—please do not be embarrassed, Mr. Huening. Your words do me a great honor, truly.”

“You are far too modest, my lady,” Taehyun replies, and while everyone’s attention turns to him, he keeps his eyes fixed on yours. “The praise is well earned, I hope you know that.”

“Which only means that the lady should honor our humble request,” Lord Jung says, a twinkle in his eye. “We were just asking that she take a turn on the pianoforte for us. A private performance, if you will, from one of the most accomplished musicians in our society. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for many of us, after all.”

A chorus of agreement sounds from your little group and begins to ripple outwards to the rest of the room as well. People begin to turn, expectation and excitement bright in their faces, but Taehyun glances at you only to find your expression somewhat frozen. 

All at once he remembers the dark night at the Tillings’ ball, the exhaustion clear in your face and your voice when you admitted you were searching for quiet, too. Are you tired now in the same way? He subtly inches a little closer to you and whispers lowly, “You do not have to if you do not wish to.”

You look up at him and your expression clears, eyes turning soft as you smile at him. “Worry not, my lord,” you reply. “I would love to perform. I was just momentarily overwhelmed—I wasn’t expecting quite so much enthusiasm. I do thank you for your concern, though.”

Taehyun smiles, shaking his head. “You are too modest,” he repeats. “The enthusiasm is only to be expected with a name such as yours. I am excited to hear what you play for us, too.”

You don’t have the chance to refute his praise because his cousin is taking your arm and leading you to the empty piano, the rest of the room excitedly whispering behind you. Taehyun watches you sit down at the keys, running your fingers over them with an almost reverent touch, your head bowed slightly over the sea of black and white as though in prayer.

And maybe it is a prayer, Taehyun thinks. Reverence paid to your love, music—like one paying thanks to their god. The thought is beautiful, and as you straighten slightly, positioning your hands at the instrument, he can’t help but admire you more. 

He doesn’t recognize the piece you play. It’s a lovely work, the quiet melody evocative of the night and dark while short, bright stanzas bring to mind the stars, and as your fingers waltz softly across the keys, Taehyun loses himself in the beauty of the music and the beauty of you. It is not that you weren’t beautiful before—far from it, actually—but seeing you in your element, with people who clearly appreciate your work and talent, is a spectacle Taehyun knows he will never tire of watching. It isn’t just the music. It’s the way you play it, the way you move with the melody—it’s the way you embody the music with your whole being that adds to the beauty of the moment, and the loveliness that is you. 

You finish the piece to silence, everyone’s collective breath hushed as you coax the last note from the piano strings. For a long moment, even after the final echoes of music have faded away, you remain bowed over the keys, eyes closed, hands suspended in the air before they drop softly to your lap. 

The first clap hardly breaks you from your reverie. Even as the applause grows, even as you curtsy to the shouts of Brava filling the room, you still seem like you are being pulled from the loveliest dream. Briefly, Taehyun wonders what it would be like to be in that dream with you—would it be like floating among the stars, letting their soft light wash over his body, or would it be like lying on a field of green grass at night, staring up at the moonlit sky?

You meet Taehyun’s eyes and in a moment you seem to jerk awake—your smile widens, your expression brightens, and he can’t help but do the same as you curtsy again and again. All the time his eyes never leave your face, his mind never leaving the beauty of your performance. 

Kai sidles up to his ear and snorts when Taehyun barely notices him. “You are going to court her, aren’t you?” he asks without preamble. 

“Yes.” Taehyun doesn’t even turn his eyes away from you to reply. “Yes, I am.”

. . . . .

At the start of the season, you’d hoped that the daily parade of balls, gatherings, promenades, and callers would die down a bit as the weeks went on. The season itself is six months, already half a year—you really thought there would be no way that the steady stream of events could continue for so long. 

This, apparently, is not the case. 

It’s been a month and there is no sign of the flow ebbing even slightly. Even when there aren’t massive balls that the entire ton is invited to, there are still the smaller gatherings—small parties, invites to dinner, promenades in the park—and even during the events where only the women are present, the talk always seems to turn to the season, to the debutantes, to engagements and marriage, and most of all, the fact that the queen has still not chosen a diamond. 

You’ve heard all manner of stupidity about this last topic of gossip, and it honestly annoys you more than anything else you’ve seen during the season. If the queen hasn’t chosen a diamond by now, you’d like to say, perhaps that means she simply does not plan to. But apparently the idea of a diamond being absent for the entire season is simply unthinkable to the mamas of the ton, and so after the separation of the sexes at every dinner party you attend, you’re forced to listen to them run the topic into the ground. 

The duchess’s gathering last weekend was a lovely respite from such talk. It was a much smaller gathering, mostly friends and family of the duchy who no longer have much of a stake in the season or who have lived long enough for them not to care. You were very lucky to have gotten an invitation to it at all. It was the first event you attended that you truly enjoyed from start to finish and you walked away from it with both a lingering happiness, a possible good friend in the duchess, and a promise of a call from the lord who invited you to the gathering in the first place. 

Even now, you can’t stop the rush of heat to your face when you remember his sincere compliments after your performance at the duchess’s. The way his large eyes sparkled so earnestly, his words sweet but respectful—it is true that you have only known him for a few weeks, but in that moment, you remember thinking that with every meeting your estimation of his character only seems to improve. And it isn’t just because he is effusive in paying you compliments for your performances. Lord Kang…he sees the person behind the performer, the hard work behind the talent. Of course it helps that he is somewhat of a musician himself—you’d love to hear him play sometime—but he clearly respects the work anyone puts into their own craft, from what you gathered in the conversations you shared with others at the party. 

Before you left, he had found you again and asked, somewhat shyly, if you enjoyed reading about music history or theory. When you responded yes to both, he told you he had several volumes on the subjects in his library, and would be happy to lend them to you if you wished. 

Aunt Taylor was not pleased by your stammering reply. Neither were you. But it was such a kind gesture that it took you aback for a good few moments, and by the time you had finally managed to convey that you would love that, you felt a true mess. Lord Kang didn’t seem perturbed by it at all, though. His smile only widened, and he said that then he would have to call sometime the next week, to see you and bring them to you. 

Your governess is certain he means to court you. So do your cousins, though Aunt Taylor has forbidden them from gossiping about it as it isn’t a sure thing yet. You aren’t quite as certain as they are, but deep inside, battling with the part of you that fears marriage and its shackles of responsibility, another part of you hopes that she is right.

The prospect of Lord Kang’s call is really what keeps you going through the seemingly endless nights of dinner parties and mindless chatter, small talk made with family friends you hardly remember and debutantes who either talk about topics you don’t know or care little about, or who look like they want to be there about as much as you do. You find a few kindred spirits among those who are bold enough to whisper their disdain aloud, though, and they make the time more worth it. 

Still, when the morning of Lord Kang’s call comes, you can’t help but feel as though a new light shines on the day. Cousin Lilly slyly remarks that you look more excited than usual as she removes her toddlers from the drawing room in anticipation of calling hour, and even Aunt Taylor’s hissed instructions to sit straight or you’ll turn a perfectly good suitor away doesn’t dampen your mood much as you settle into the couch, watching servants flit about with last minute preparations. 

Just a few minutes after the clock strikes three, a footman enters the room. “Lord Kang has come to call, my lady,” he says. 

You force yourself to breathe properly as your aunt tells him to bring Lord Kang in. For once, you thank the heavens for your aunt’s beady-eyed attention to detail. While her sharp critiques may sting more than they help when directed at you, it means that the room is clean and bright. Lord Kang should find himself most comfortable when he comes in. Or so you hope. 

Lord Kang enters the room with little fanfare, but with an abundance of quiet grace that, for all your earlier nervousness, immediately calms your nerves. After the initial greetings, he remarks on the careful décor of the room and pays compliment to your aunt, who actually looks briefly stunned before she accepts his praise. You’re smiling widely by the time he turns to you—maybe too widely for your aunt’s liking, but you can’t help it—and dare you say it? His eyes seem to sparkle a little more when he looks at you. 

“My lady,” he says, kissing your hand. “I trust you have been well since we last saw each other.”

“Quite so, and I hope I might say the same for you,” you reply. Honestly, you’re quite proud of yourself for keeping your voice so steady when your heart leapt so wildly the moment his lips touched your knuckles. 

“You may,” he says, eyes crinkling with a little mischief. “And as promised, I have brought you the books I mentioned when we spoke last time. I do hope you enjoy them.”

“I’m sure I will,” you say, taking the small stack of books with delight. Their worn covers speak of frequent and fond use, you note, scanning the titles embossed on their spines. “Oh!” you exclaim, sliding one of them out of the stack. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to read this for quite some time.” You beam up at Lord Kang. “Thank you so much, my lord.”

“It is my pleasure,” he replies, a lovely soft smile on his lips. “And, please, take your time reading them. Do not endeavor to return them sooner than you’d like—I’ve read them all, so you need not rush.”

“You are most kind,” you reply sincerely. “Oh, which reminds me.” Placing the books on a nearby table, you pick up a few sheets of music from the drawing room piano. “You mentioned last time that you had not heard the piece I played, and that you found it quite beautiful,” you say, extending the music to him. “I thought…I thought you might like to have the music. If you wanted to learn it yourself.”

Lord Kang takes a moment before he accepts the music from your hand, which makes you a little nervous—what if he doesn’t care for your gift? There’s no way it really compares to the volumes he’s lent you, you think miserably, but it’s all you could think of to give in return. But then he looks up from the black notes inked on the page, and that lovely smile of his has widened along with his bright eyes. “Thank you so much,” he breathes. “This is…the most perfect gift, my lady. I hope you will not mind me borrowing it for a time.”

“Oh, do not worry about returning it,” you say, smiling. “This is a new copy—I have my own for myself. This one is for you.”

“Well, in that case, I know what I will be doing when I return home,” Lord Kang replies, and the two of you laugh. “I can only hope to learn this piece half as well as you have.”

You laugh again, hiding a shy smile behind your hand. “Again, my lord, you flatter me too much.”

“No, I fear the world does not flatter you enough.” His words are so sincere, so earnest that you momentarily find yourself at a loss for words. And it’s then, of course, that you notice you’re both still standing. You haven’t even offered him a seat yet. 

“You really are too kind,” you reply, internally screaming. “Please my lord, do sit. We have some refreshments if you should like any, and our cook can prepare others if you are feeling particular.”

Lord Kang truly does have perfect manners, you note as you sit down together. He compliments the chef, your aunt, your governess, all so quickly and smoothly you barely have a moment to bat an eye. And then, when you’re floundering a little for a way to begin a conversation, he again takes the lead and engages you easily with a question about the composer of the music you gave him. 

It’s so easy to talk to him. Not just because he’s a wonderful conversationalist, which he is, but you feel comfortable around him in a way that you haven’t felt with any of the other suitors you’ve entertained over the past couple of weeks. Part of it is your shared interests, of course, but he listens to you with an attentive and respectful air that makes talking to him so much easier. It doesn’t feel fake, the way it does with some of the other men. It feels as though he really cares about you, your interests, and what makes you happy. 

And because of this, it’s not difficult to reciprocate in kind. As he mentioned during your promenade, Lord Kang clearly loves literature. When you ask about his library, his enthusiasm about the subject is infectious. At some point you land on the topic of an author that you both have read, one that he enjoyed and you didn’t, and it sparks a lively back-and-forth that has both of you laughing in the end. You’re nowhere near as well-read as he is, and in this conversation it unfortunately shows—his opinions on the author are deep and nuanced while you struggle to articulate what it is about the writing that made you dislike it so—but he remains patient and respectful, and despite your lack of knowledge, just like when you spoke during your promenade, you never feel out of place or embarrassed. 

“You are so well-read, my lord,” you say at the end of your little debate. Your throat rasps a little from speaking so much but you hardly notice, you’re smiling so hard. “How did you come into possession of so many books, and how do you have the time to read them all?”

“Well, both my mother and father enjoy collecting books, so I grew up surrounded by them,” he replies. Of course, you think—such a love for literature must have been cultivated from a young age, just as your love for music. “I took it upon myself to read as many as I could when I was a child, and so when I went to school I quite enjoyed my classics lessons. Upon inheriting the earldom, I was pleased to learn that the estate came with a very large library that the previous lord had left.” At that, Lord Kang’s smile softens. “I’ve been spending all the free time that I can reading as much as possible. The late lord must have been collecting books for a very long time, though—sometimes I wonder if I will be able to finish them all before I pass on.”

You nod in sympathy. “I feel the same about all the sheet music I have collected over the years. I always want to add more to my repertoire, but there’s just so much in the world. I could certainly never hope to finish it all, though perhaps that is the beauty in it. The beauty in creation, I mean.” You glance at the music you gifted him, lying on the table beside you two. “I believe art is a tribute to humanity, to human emotion and empathy. People will be composing and writing throughout my life and long after my death, and to know that this beauty continues on even though I will not be there to share it…I think that is beautiful. It is a wonderful tradition, passed on through the ages, and I will always be honored to have been a part of it.”

A short silence falls after your declaration. Suddenly self-conscious, you look up to find Lord Kang’s eyes riveted to yours. “That is a lovely way of seeing things,” he says softly. “I had never thought about art before in such a manner.”

You duck your head, heat crawling up your cheeks. “Many perspectives exist when it comes to the philosophy of the arts, my lord. This is only mine.”

He cocks his head, meeting your eyes again. “And a lovely philosophy it is, my lady.”

Thankfully—or unthankfully, really—you’re saved from having to come up with a response by the entrance of your footman. “Another caller has arrived,” he says, glancing at you, then Lord Kang, then at your aunt. “Shall I send him in?”

You glance up at the clock. Already half an hour has passed, though to your mind it feels like only seconds have slipped away—certainly not thirty minutes, already ten minutes over what a normal call would be. Inwardly you curse the next caller for having come too soon—actually, for having come at all—because while you may not know him well, you’re quite certain Lord Kang’s impeccable manners will have him clearing out before the next caller comes in. 

To your chagrin, you’re right. Lord Kang quickly stands and you follow suit, still cursing the clock and the caller. “I will not intrude upon your next call, my lady,” he says, and maybe it is delusion but you fancy he sounds somewhat put out when he says this. “I have already taken too much of your time.”

“Not too much at all, my lord.” You curtsy to his short bow. “I did not realize so much time had passed, but I quite enjoyed our conversation. And thank you kindly for lending me your books. I will be sure to enjoy them.”

“Of course.” He inclines his head with an enchanting smile. “And I must thank you again for your kind gift, my lady. Perhaps by the next time we meet, I will have learned to play it.”

You grin. “I do hope so. It would be so lovely to hear you perform sometime.”

With that, Lord Kang makes his goodbyes, and you’re left to welcome the next caller. He is thankfully not Mr. Haynesworth, as you had privately been dreading, but really, you feel that any caller would have paled in comparison to Lord Kang. Lord Kim, whom you met at the last ball you attended, isn’t rude or vile or even awkward. He’s a gentleman, all things considered. But after the requisite greetings, he begins the call with an outright statement about his plans for the future, which leaves you half-floundering for a response after your previous lively conversation with Lord Kang. 

Lord Kim doesn’t share any of your interests. He barely feigns interest in your music, and though he doesn’t say it outright, you’re almost certain he would want you to give up the piano if you were to marry. Though that’s not even what bothers you the most, you realize only when he’s about to leave—it’s the fact that he didn’t even ask you about it. It’s the expectation that he seems to have that you would do what he says without question, without the respect of even considering your passions and interests when planning out the rest of your possible life together. 

Later that night you lie awake in your bed, staring at the dark ceiling as you run through the events of the day. In an ideal world, you ask yourself, if you were to be married, what would make it a perfect marriage?

No conflict. Perfect understanding of one another, and perfect respect. But really, those are impossible demands. You’re not sure any marriage would be perfect without conflict, anyway—such a relationship sounds awfully like a domineering husband and submissive wife, which you hope to fully steer clear of. 

But understanding and respect, even if not perfect, doesn’t seem like it should be so unattainable. Marriage, you think, should be a partnership. And a partnership implies a mutual respect for one another, no? And maybe the definition of respect varies from one person to another, but for you, it involves a consideration of your interests and how deeply they play a role in your life. Because for you, before now, almost your entire life was music. You can’t—won’t—give it up just to play a role in society. So is there anyone who might give you that respect?

The answer is obvious already. 

You sigh, rubbing a thumb over where Lord Kang kissed your hand earlier in greeting. He certainly seems to be the ideal, at least for you. Your mind returns to your avid conversation, and his complete attentiveness to you. 

Few people have listened to you like he did today. Your mother did before she died, and sometimes your governess does, but not many others. You need that, you realize. You need someone, or something, to hear you—it’s partly why you poured so much of yourself into the piano when your mother passed, because it felt like only the instrument could hear you and understand your pain, your grief. That is what you need in marriage. In partnership. 

And, you think, remembering large eyes and a soft, wide smile, there’s only one person you know who seems to fit this ideal. 

. . . . .

“You look like you’re having quite a lot of fun.”

Taehyun turns from where he’s been staring at the drink table for probably a little too long. “Yeonjun? I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

The duke picks up two glasses and hands one to him. “We weren’t certain if we were going to come either. The duchess decided last night that she wanted to get out of the house for some time, so here we are. ”

Taehyun nods. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen the two of you out much since you returned to town.”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks since we returned,” Yeonjun defends. “There was and still is much to sort out, and unfortunately I have to return to the country next weekend to supervise the removal and fixing of some of the farmers’ equipment.” He sighs. “I hate responsibility.”

“It will all be fine, I’m sure,” Taehyun comforts. Yeonjun and his wife are two of the most capable people he knows; he’s certain they will be alright no matter what challenges they face. “Join us at the club tomorrow afternoon,” he offers. “Kai, Beomgyu, and Soobin will be there too.”

Yeonjun brightens immediately. “I will be there.” Then he squints his eyes into a mock frown. “Are you all now meeting without me? Is it because I’m old, and married, and jaded now?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Taehyun snickers into his drink as Yeonjun’s pout deepens exaggeratedly. “No, we just met up a few times when you were still in the country. You’ll be included in every invite now, I promise.” He pauses. “Though of course if you are busy, you are under no obligation to come.”

“Thank you very much.” Yeonjun grins, that eye smile that drove so many debutantes insane appearing on his face. “But enough about me. Now about you.” He fixes Taehyun with a stern eye. “I thought you were looking for a wife? You won’t have much luck with that, staring at this array of drinks.”

Taehyun makes a face. “I think many of these mamas want to find their daughters husbands more than I want to find myself a wife,” he mutters. 

Yeonjun nearly chokes into his drink. “That’s certainly one way to put the issue,” he coughs out, recovering. “Though I heard from Beomgyu that there is already a lady you have decided to court?”

“…Yes.” Taehyun narrows his eyes. “How did you know that? I only told Kai.”

“He says he heard it from Kai, so I think we know what happened there.” Yeonjun shrugs as Taehyun sighs. “Apparently you didn’t say it was a secret.”

He didn’t. But all the same… “He’ll be the death of me, someday,” Taehyun mutters. “But yes, I have someone in mind. Miss L/N. You met her a couple of weeks ago, at the gathering.” He pauses, then decides he may as well just be out with it. “I’ve been calling on her since.”

“That is wonderful to hear,” Yeonjun replies sincerely. “Is she here tonight?”

“She said she would be.” Taehyun glances around the room. “I specifically asked, because we keep seeming to miss each other at all the other balls. If I’m there, she isn’t, and if I’m not, she is.” They share a little laugh. “I haven’t been able to find her here since I arrived, though.” He gestures helplessly at the drink table. “Hence…”

Yeonjun makes a little ‘o’ of understanding. “I see. And you do not want to dance with any of the other debutantes?”

“I already have,” Taehyun says, glancing at the bustling dance floor. “I’m just…tired, I suppose.” He tries to smile. “You know how it is.”

He doesn’t, not really. In the year since Taehyun gotten to know the duke, he’s come to the conclusion that Yeonjun is like Taemin when it comes to things like this—ever social, ever happy to entertain and be entertained. But also like Taemin, he understands that Taehyun is different, and tires of these things much more easily than he does. “I understand,” Yeonjun replies sympathetically. A little glint enters his eye when he sees something just behind Taehyun. “If you’d like, I can cover you for a bit. So you can find some quiet.”

Taehyun casts a glance back. Sure enough, a small group of mamas and their daughters seem to be eyeing him and the duke. “That would be most appreciated,” he says gratefully. 

Within moments, Yeonjun has skillfully engaged the group of ladies in conversation and has also managed to snag a hapless Wooyoung into joining him, leaving Taehyun to slip past the throng. As the rooms grow less crowded and the corridors quieter, he takes a deep breath, reveling in the silence. 

Only it isn’t completely silent, even in this empty room. If Taehyun listens carefully, he can catch a hint of a melody that isn’t just the remnants of the orchestra fading in from a nearby corridor. 

Within moments, he’s heading down the corridor, a smile curving his lips as he searches for the source of the music. 

He finds the room with a little difficulty, following the sound of your performance down corridor after corridor. When he finally stumbles upon the slightly cracked open door, Taehyun is reminded of the second ball of the season, where he heard you that first time. He didn’t know it was you then, but he certainly knows it is you now. It helps that this is a piece he’s heard you play before—it’s a lovely Mozart sonata you performed when he called on you a few days ago—but your style is also so distinctive that even though Taehyun has only heard you play a handful of times, even not knowing the piece, he’s almost certain he would still know it was you. 

Taehyun smiles just beyond the room, leaning closer towards the open door. He won’t disturb you—even though he aims to court you, he would never trap you into a proposal by having someone catch the two of you alone together. He just wants to listen. And perhaps, when you’re finished, he’ll be able to catch you when you return back to the party, and you two can share a dance. 

It’s strange that in all the times you’ve met, the two of you have not yet danced together once. Taehyun aims to rectify that as soon as he can, if you will allow it. 

And allow it you will, he thinks. He’s certain he’s not the only one who has noticed how well you two get along. You must have felt it too, just as you must also have seen by now that he is quite interested in you.  And he’s almost sure that you are interested in him too, if your shy smiles and sweet words are anything to go by. 

Closing his eyes, he leans closer to the music. A brilliant sparkle of notes swirl under your fingers, the melody leaping with a joy that lingers in his ears and widens his smile. Cheerful and sweet, though there’s a noise that doesn’t sound right entering the piece. It’s strange—it sounds something like—

Footsteps?

Taehyun quickly ducks into a nearby empty room, praying no one saw him. The low conversation of the small group continues without interruption and he breathes a sigh of relief. They keep coming closer, though, and he thinks he can hear the voice of Lady Arina Park telling Her Majesty—she brought the queen?—that she must see the Gérard painting in this room, it’s quite famous and apparently not a fake—

Holding his breath, Taehyun watches them enter the room where you’re playing. But the music doesn’t stop, not just yet. He almost smiles—it’s not hard to believe you would be so lost in the melody that you wouldn’t notice a small group of people entering the room—but that smile freezes in place when the queen makes an exclamation and the music ends abruptly. 

Taehyun swallows. This might not be good. The queen can’t be pleased that you would avoid a ball to play the pianoforte—maybe he can help, just enter the room and act surprised to see everyone. He could easily claim he was curious about the music. 

He edges into the hallway just in time to hear you apologizing profusely. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, I was only taking a small pause from the ball—”

“Because you delight in your endeavors.” Taehyun stops short when he hears the smile in Her Majesty’s voice. He should leave—from her tone, you are probably not in trouble, which means it’s better for him not to be here. He wouldn’t want to be accused of eavesdropping on Her Majesty. Still, though he can’t help but hear the queen’s words as he takes soundless steps down the hallway. “Someone who performs not for me, but for themselves. Brava.”

That, Taehyun can agree with. Yet while part of his heart leaps in happiness for you—it is, after all, no small feat to impress the queen—another part of him remembers your desire for quiet at the Tillings’ ball and wonders what the queen’s attention might mean for an introverted woman like you. 

You mumble something that he doesn’t quite catch. And as Taehyun steps down the corridor, he hears the queen speak again, pleasure clear in her tone. 

“A performance that sparkles,” she declares. “Just like a diamond.”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :) Note: part 2 will be posted in three days, on June 17 at 8pm EST :)

[stranger-stevieee]

Chapter 3: Holly, Jolly

Summary: As Will Byers' older sister, you have a responsibility to protect him. When you fail, you have to go through the process of getting him back safely. Between fighting inter-dimensional monsters, a girl with superpowers, and getting your brother back, you might just end up falling in love along the way.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Byers!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings (entire series): cursing, angst, gore/violence (in the later seasons), fem!reader, enemies to lover (sorta), switching between past and present tense because I can’t keep up with myself, any other warnings from the show

—

It isn’t rare for you to wake up in Will’s room some mornings. 

When he was younger he used to get scared a lot, whether it was because of something in the dark or a nightmare, he would sit up in his bed and wait until the morning to get out of bed. 

There would be occasions when he would feel comfortable enough to get out of bed and go into your room in search of safety, but most times you would find him sitting in his bed, wide awake, staring into the darkness.

You were his safe place. The person he could go to when he felt scared, sad, or even unsafe.

But this time, you were waking up in Will’s room for a completely different reason. 

You weren’t here because he needed you. You were here because Will was gone, and you were up almost all night trying to figure out where he was.

You wake up to the same view you fell asleep to last night. Joyce is sitting on the edge of the bed, in front of the lights you had helped her set up last night. 

“Will? Sweetheart, can you hear me?” you hear her whisper to the lights, “It’s me. It’s me, talk to me”

You sit up in bed, now wide awake, push the covers off of you, and crawl over to the end of the bed to sit with her.

“Have you been up all night?” 

You know she has but you still felt the need to ask. There was no way she would’ve been able to fall asleep after what happened last night. You weren’t sure how you were able to sleep after that.

Before she could answer you, Jonathan walked in and looked around the room with a confused look on his face.

You knew how he felt about Joyce entertaining this idea that Will is trying to talk to her, so him seeing this must have hurt him because he never wants to see her that way.

“Mom, what are you doing?”

Joyce perked up at the sound of his voice and she turned around to look at him, “Come here, come here!” her voice was shaking and you could tell she had been crying for a while

“What’s going on?” You know he was asking her but he was looking at you.

You knew he wouldn’t believe whatever she said, he would just listen and try to convince her that she was going crazy, but you saw the same thing she did. She’s not losing it, something weird is happening. You know it.

“It’s Will. He… he’s trying to talk to me,”

You look at Jonathan’s face to try and gauge his reaction, “He’s trying to talk to you?”

“Yes! Through the lights,”

“Mom-”

Yeah he totally thinks she’s out of her mind, you thought

“I know. I know. Just… look,” she turns to face one of the lights sitting in front of her and says, “Will… your brother’s here. Could you show him what you showed me and your sister?” 

At the mention of you, Jonathan looks at you with furrowed brows and a look but you shrug your shoulders knowing that if he didn’t believe her, he wouldn’t believe you

Both of you direct your attention away from each other and back to the lights. Looking around the room, your eyes land on the lightbulb sitting directly in front of you three, and you watch as it flickers on for a split second before shutting off just as quickly.

You and Joyce let out a collective gasp and jumped forward in sync, which startled Jonathan. Joyce turned towards Jonathan in shock and excitement. “Did you see that?!”

Jonathan immediately shuts her down, “It’s just the electricity, Mom. It’s acting up.”

“No! It is not the electricity, Jonathan.” She argues, but you interrupt her before she can continue, wanting to talk to Jonathan before she gets even more frustrated. “Jonathan, can I talk to you?” 

“Yeah…”

You walked outside of the room with Jonathan following closely behind. He knew you were going to try to talk him into believing all of this craziness, but he just couldn’t. In his mind, Will is just missing and when you guys find him, all will be right again.

“Okay, I know she sounds… crazy, but everything she’s saying is true. I saw everything she saw last night and I know it’s hard to believe but you have to trust me.”

His eyes flicker between you and the bedroom door a couple of times before he responds, “I just don’t want her getting so worked up about all of this. If it really is just the electricity…”

You couldn’t help but sigh, “What I saw last night was not the electricity acting up. Something weird is going on.” You repeat his words from earlier, desperate for him to hear you out, to believe you.

He stepped forward and placed his hands on your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. “Hey, I can’t have you spinning out on me too, okay?”

You look up at your brother, who, even though he’s a year younger, is almost a foot taller than you, considering you haven’t grown in over a year and this is the height you’re stuck at.

“Okay…” You know how hard he’s trying to keep it together for you and your mom, and can’t help thinking it should be you comforting him and Joyce not the other way around.

“I’m going to talk to Mom about… all this, try and calm her down. Why don’t you go get ready for the day? Do you still want to go to school today? I have to go develop some pictures so I'll be there anyway,”

He was right. You need to calm yourself down, maybe take a shower, and get ready.

“Yeah, I probably have a lot of work to catch up on. I’ll make breakfast too, give you a little break,” you said, trying to give him a reassuring smile 

He turns and walks back into the room, while you head off to your room.

It only takes you about 20 minutes to shower, get dressed, and get in the kitchen to get started on breakfast for the three of you.

Usually, you would add a touch of makeup into your routine but with what’s happened in the past few days, you were good with just getting dressed for the day.

Before you could finish breakfast, Jonathan walked in and asked what he could help with. You put him on toast duty which was the easiest and suddenly, things started to feel normal for a second.

You and Jonathan in the kitchen making breakfast before school, working together, even laughing for the first time in a while when you started to crack some jokes.

It felt normal except there was one thing or person missing, Will.

—

Walking down the halls, you made your way toward your locker to put away the books you wouldn’t need for a while. 

You found yourself standing next to Nancy whose locker had been placed next to yours ever since she started high school last year. 

Your first period of the day was English, which you just so happened to share with Nancy.

Taking a closer look at her, you could tell she looked a bit nervous “Hey, are you okay?” you asked out of concern

“Yeah…it’s just-”

She was cut off by the sound of her locker slamming into another. The sound was caused by none other than her boyfriend, Steve Harrington. 

“Hey!” he said, showing her his obnoxious smile before she replied shyly, “Hey…”

You roll your eyes, turn back to your locker, and continue to shove your books inside, knowing that with him there, your conversation with Nancy wouldn’t resume for a while or ever.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Steve, you just…well, you didn’t like him. In all honesty, it had less to do with him and more to do with his “friends”. 

The ones who bullied you during freshman year for absolutely no reason other than you having less than them and while he rarely participated, he never stopped them either.

You contemplated waiting for Nancy to finish her conversation so you could walk to class together, but you decided to leave before you could witness them kissing and gave her some space.

You made it to class with just enough time, sitting down as soon as the bell rang and watching Nancy walk in with seconds to spare. She made her way to her seat right behind you.

It was a few seconds later when she tapped your shoulder to ask you a question, “Hey, Y/N. Where’s Barb?”

You turned around in your seat and looked at her confused. While Barb could be considered a friend of yours, you don’t speak to her that often. “Um…shouldn’t you know?” 

“You haven’t seen her anywhere?” She, once again, had this nervous look on her face that had you worried

“No. Maybe she stayed home today?” Shaking your head, you offered an excuse

“Yeah, maybe”

—

When school let out, you made your way to Jonathan’s car to wait for him. 

Sitting on the hood, you take your sketchbook and continue the drawing you’ve been working on. You would consider yourself a good artist, after all, it is what you want to go to school for.

You were the one who “taught” Will to draw. He had taken an interest when he saw you at the kitchen table, drawing a portrait of your Mom as a gift for her birthday a year ago.

You had a picture of her in front of you and were using it as a sort of guide when he came to join you at the table and simply asked, “How are you so good at it?”

“I don’t know, I just think of what I want to draw and then I just… do it” you had said, taking your eyes off the piece of paper and looking over at him, “Do you wanna try?”

“Can I?” he asked excitedly

You let out a little giggle at his excitement and slid the paper across the table towards him. He immediately snatched it, took one look at the picture of Joyce, and started drawing.

At the rate he was going, he would finish the whole thing before you could take it back but you were happy to let him take the reins, even if it wouldn’t look the best in the end.

However, when he gave the drawing back, it looked way better than what you had started. Turned out he was a natural and didn’t need your help at all, “Will! This looks amazing! What the heck?”

He blushed at your words, thinking you wouldn’t think it was as good, but he should’ve known you would never put him down like that, “You really think so?”

“Duh! Will you should draw more often… I mean it.” And he did.

After that day, he started drawing more and more, sometimes asking for your help. You were happy to help him and over time it became something the two of you would do together, to bond and get closer as siblings.

You really miss him.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled you out of your daydream. Looking up from your sketchbook, you see Steve, Tommy, Carol, and Nicole stop in front of you.

Sighing, you shut your book and shove it back into your bag, “Can I help you?” you ask the group but direct your attention to Steve who is standing in the forefront while the other three are behind him.

He looked at you with his infamous smirk, “Not at all. We’ll just wait here” and with that, he leaned back onto Jonathan’s car and started a conversation with the others.

Rolling your eyes, you hopped off the hood and went to step in front of the group. “Wait for what?”

The four got quiet before Tommy stepped forward and asked, “Byers,” he said sarcastically,  “...do you know what your brother was doing last night?”

“I don’t, Tommy,” you spit out his name like he’s the last person you want to be talking to right now, “...why don’t you enlighten me?”

Before he could answer you, Steve, who had been watching your interaction, noticed Jonathan walking towards the car. He saw his opportunity and, boy, did he take it.

“Why don’t you let him answer your question, Byers” You turned around and saw that Jonathan was now standing directly behind you. “Hey, man.” Steve continued.

“What’s going on?” Jonathan asked while placing his hands on your shoulders to move you behind him.

“Nicole here,” Steve turned to point over at the redhead behind him, “...was, uh, telling us about your work. And we'd just love to take a look. You know, as... connoisseurs of art”

You looked up at Jonathan and saw what looked like guilt on his face, you furrowed your brows but kept quiet, allowing them to continue.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Jonathan took a step towards the driver's side of the car and reached for the handle but Tommy stepped up and snatched the bag out of his arms just as quickly.

“What the fuck, Tommy?!” You’re not that much of a fighter but when it comes to your brothers, you’re not one to mess with.

At this point, Tommy had already tossed the bag to Steve who had proceeded to dig through it until he found what he was looking for.

“Man, he is totally trembling. He must really have something to hide,” Steve looked at you with his brows raised, “Ah… here we go,” he said, pulling a stack of pictures out of the bag 

You didn’t know what the pictures were of, but you did know that it couldn’t be good based on the reaction of the group. “Jonathan…” you tried to get him to look at you but he kept his eyes on the others who were going through the pictures.

“I was looking for my brother,” Jonathan said, trying to defend himself but this was brand new information to you. 

You backed away from his side for a split second, allowing you to take a better look at him, “You went looking for Will without me?”

You were hurt knowing he went out into the woods without you, by himself. Who knows what could have happened to him? You wouldn’t be able to handle yourself if anything did happen. You would be a mess.

“No, this is called stalking,” Steve said while pointing down at the pictures that Carol was now holding.

You went to take a look at the photos, wanting to know what all the commotion was about. Before you did, you felt Jonathan’s hand around your wrist, holding you back.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he whispered which made this whole situation a lot more serious.

Walking forward, you took the prints out of Steve’s hand but didn’t look down at them just yet. You felt the need to mentally prepare yourself if the pictures were as bad as they were saying.

Finally looking at them, you were in shock. The first picture was of Steve and Nancy in what looks to be his backyard, standing out by the pool, which looks to be innocent but shouldn’t have been taken in the first place. 

The last picture was probably the most shocking of all. The photo was zoomed in on Steve’s bedroom window and in it was the silhouette of, who you're assuming is Nancy, taking her top off.

You don’t look at the picture for long before handing it back to Carol, who gave it to you in the first place, and looking up Jonathan who looked at you with guilt in his eyes.

Before you could say anything, Nancy had appeared. “Here's the starring lady,” Carol said in response.

“What?” Nancy stood there with an awkward smile on her face, still not understanding what was happening.

“This creep was spying on us last night,” Carol handed Nancy the incriminating photo of herself, “He was probably gonna save this one for later,”

As Nancy stood there, staring down at the picture, you stood staring at your brother, wondering what on earth he was thinking when he decided to take these photos.

You weren’t going to defend his actions because you know what he did was wrong, and he knows it too, but you also weren’t going to let them push him around.

“See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but… man, that's the thing about perverts…” Steve said as he made his way over to Jonathan, “It's hardwired into 'em, you know, they just can't help themselves.” He then proceeds to rip up all the pictures and toss them to the ground. “So… we'll just have to take away his toy,”

He walks back to the car and grabs Jonathan’s bag, and you immediately know what he’s going for. The camera.

“Steve…” you call out, hoping that for once he would empathize with you and not destroy the one thing that brings your brother joy.

Jonathan launches forward, trying to get to his bag before Steve does, “No, please, not the camera,” but before he can reach it, Tommy holds him back, seemingly ready to take matters into his own hands.

“No, no, wait, wait… Tommy, it's okay,” Steve says causing Tommy to back off. He holds the camera out for Jonathan to take as you watch him carefully, “Here you go, man,” and for a second you think he’s being genuine, that just maybe he was playing around and he thought it would be a funny joke.

You should’ve known better because the second Jonathan reached out for the camera, Steve let it slip from his grip and it audibly shattered onto the concrete.

You let out a gasp at his action, immediately bending down to inspect the broken camera while Jonathan stood, watching them walk away. 

You tuned out your surroundings, not even noticing Nancy picking up some stray pieces of the ripped photos or when Jonathan bent down to help you pick up what was left of the shattered device.

The camera might not have been yours but you had helped Joyce save money for months just to buy it for Jonathan as a Christmas present, so it meant just as much to you.

A sudden wave of anger came over you. Not at Jonathan but at Steve. You chose to ignore it for the time being. Choosing to focus on Jonathan and the problem at hand.

“What were you thinking, Jonny?” you asked, trying not to sound too angry although that proved to be harder than it seemed.

“I wasn’t. It’s as plain and simple as that, I wasn’t thinking.”

“So how did you end up in Harrington’s backyard last night?” You just wanted to understand where he was coming from and clear up any confusion you had before you jumped to any conclusions.

“I was out looking for Will and I brought my camera in case I found any clues, I guess. Then I heard this really loud scream and for some reason, my first instinct was to run towards it.”

You look up at him and say, “Well, that was your first mistake,”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “...anyway, I followed the sound and ended up at Steve’s house. I couldn’t tell you why I decided to take pictures, but I promise I’m not…”

You had cut him off, knowing what he was going to say next, “I know, I believe you,”

He looked up from his camera to look at you, “You do”

“Do you really think I’d believe anything that comes out of their mouths, over you?” you say with a playful smile, the conversation dying down and your anger coming back up.

You were not going to let Steve get away with this.

“Fuck it,” you whisper, getting up from your crouched position, not paying attention to Jonathan as he calls your name, you made your way inside in search of Steve, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

Walking towards the school, you see Nancy exit through the pair of double doors. “Nancy, is Steve in there?” You know she’s probably still angry about everything that happened a few minutes ago but despite that, she nods her head and continues walking. That’s all you needed.

Sure enough, as soon as you walked through the doors, Steve stood there. He already had this annoyed look on his face and here you were, about to make it worse.

“Byers, did you finally realize what a perv your brother is?” he called out while you were still a ways away from him, laughing along with Tommy and Carol who were sitting on the bench behind him.

Once you finally caught up to him and stood face to face, “What the hell is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem, sweetheart,” he said giving you a smirk

“So, what, you think what you did out there was okay? That destroying another person's property is okay? News flash, Harrington, not everyone can afford all the fancy shit you have. Some people actually have to work in order to get things. I know that concept might seem foreign to you but it's true.”

He stared at you with a smirk on his face before he spoke up, “Did you really expect me to let him get away with that?”

“Of course not, Steve, but did you have to break his camera? That’s his only prized possession. Wasn’t all the taunting, bullying, and ripping up the pictures enough?”

“Listen,” he said stepping closer to you, “... he needed to be taught a lesson, and I gave him one. Now he won’t ever do anything like this again,” he ended his sentence with a smile, seemingly proud of himself

Furrowing your brows, you continue, “You couldn’t have handled it any other way?”

“How would you suggest I handled it?”

Your voice rose in order to prove a point but you weren’t yelling just yet, “I don’t know, maybe talk it out like a normal person.” you said shrugging your shoulders 

“Talking it out won’t stop him. Who’s to say he won’t go out and do it again? To more innocent people?” He paused for a second before he said “Who knows, maybe you could be next?”

“You’re disgusting! What is wrong with you?”

“Hey, I’m just saying. Once a perv, always a perv”

“Maybe don’t judge someone before actually getting to know them” You don’t give him the opportunity to answer before you turn around and walk away.

—

The road was dark, with nothing but the headlights of the car illuminating the road.

You and Jonathan were driving in silence. You didn’t expect to find your mom running down the street towards you both. 

As soon as the car is stopped, you jump out of the passenger seat and meet Joyce in the middle of the road with Jonathan following right after you.

Jonathan was the first to speak, “Mom?”

“Mom, what happened? Did you see that thing again?”

She said nothing. Instead, she burst into tears right there in the middle of the road. You both hugged her and started to comfort her.

You had no clue the shock that would hit you within the next hour.

—

a/n: Um… so I kinda hate how I wrote this chapter. I feel like k could’ve done better but I just wanted to get it out. Anyways hope you enjoyed and as always please let me know what I can do better (kindly)

Tags: @torntaltos @xprloki

[bridgertonandchocolate]

Finished Bridgerton season 3 part 2 this morning and I have some initial thoughts after only one viewing. So I may forget something along the way. I have mixed feelings as a fan of the books. Overall if I didn’t have any book knowledge I would say it’s stellar but as a book fan there were parts I was certainly disappointed with. I’m sure the more I watch it I will get more used to it just as I did with part one but for now here’s some things I liked and probably some things I didn’t like.

Spoilers abound so if you haven’t seen it don’t continue reading.

My favorite episodes for part 2 were 5 and 7. While episode 5 was jam packed it was a good mix of things we love from the book.

I don’t think Pens family should have found out about her engagement in LW but that’s slim pickings to some other things that happened in this part. I loved Colin telling Portia off. I love how he was very much putting his love out there unabashedly. Whereas in the book the boy still didn’t have a clue. Everything that happened in their home from the mirror to everything else I thought was exquisite and well done. They packed it full of dialogue and book references so much so that I felt like they’d have nothing left for the other episodes. Loved the scene overall.

While I love the intimacy scenes with Polin I wish there was more. They promised so much steaminess and sexiness and it wasn’t there. There were many of missed opportunities throughout the other episodes too that I felt like they could’ve focused more on Polin than they did and more intimacy scenes definitely wouldn’t have hurt.

I hated how Colin responded once he discovered her. His arguments for being so angry felt so disingenuous to me. In the first two seasons he really didn’t pay much attention to LW at all and in fact I think at one point he even suspected Eloise so I don’t understand where this sudden hatred came from because it never really came about before. And then he just continued to be so angry about it. I hated that he wouldn’t even sleep in their room with Pen because he knows he still loves her. He still wanted a life with her. I think in the book he was still able to do that and he was much less angry and more concerned with her well-being. It’s just a difference I’ll have to get used to for the sake of my Polin heart. It just didn’t make sense to me. I also felt like this led to not much development for Colin. We see him feeling not so worthy and even not sure if Pen reciprocated feelings for him. All we really see is that he kind of gets over his hero complex and he realizes he was just jealous of her. They seemed to give a lot of his character development to Benedict in this part particularly about purpose and I felt this was a wasted opportunity. There was growth but nothing like we see with Pens growth. I loved this change from the book. That through Colin she used her new confidence to “save herself”. She was proud of that part of her and seeing her want to expose herself as LW was fabulous.

The Polin wedding was so beautiful and I nearly cried. I think Penelope’s wedding ring which is a claddagh ring is definitely a nod to Nicola Coughlan which I thought was amazing for them to do.

My favorite line from RMB didn’t even make it into the show. I was so disappointed about that and was yelling at my screen at times. I don’t know if I’ll get over it. The whole bit about him loving her with everything he is, had been and hopes to be and his past and future. And the future children and the smiles. All just gone. I wanted to cry.

I’m sure there will be more Polin thoughts. Overall I was mostly pleased but wished there would have been more spicy things and more character development for Colin. I want a Polin spinoff. I know they’re going to be in season 4 but if they end up doing to them what they did to Daphne and Kanthony I won’t watch anymore.

Here’s some other thoughts:

Benedict. Good grief. The first part his story was so nonexistent and then BAM it became nearly the main story in part 2. Stealing Polins thunder. Benedict seems so aimless in this season that I didn’t find anything about his storyline intriguing at all. It felt frivolous. I’m definitely thinking Benedict is season 4 now after episode 8 but it seems like Benny just wants to explore his sexuality and have fun more than anything else. I was so disappointed with the number of spicy scenes they put in. One would’ve sufficed since he wasn’t the season lead.

Francesca. They have ruined Francesca’s whole story now. Everything that made Francesca who she is is gone. Everything I loved about her book will probably not exist. I think changing the gender of Michael was not a good idea at all. I know that representation is important and I’m not opposed to people being gay. For me her whole story and basis for her character won’t exist and I’m not liking it.

Eloise. Girl. I hated you until about episode 7. I really was going into it thinking I needed mama bridgerton to get some sense into Eloise but I’m really glad she got there on her own. I was really pleased with where they took her in the last episode and that she’s going after something she wants and is actively trying to change her life instead of sticking around where she doesn’t feel she fits at the moment.

Kanthony. I thought part 1 was bad. Part 2 was worse. Some of their stuff was fine but it just felt overdone. Like they brought them back to play a key part and then they’re like just kidding now we’re going to India. Anthony was so cute in wanting their child to be born there and everything but I felt like then they could’ve explained their absence in part 1 differently. I am sure that Jonathan Bailey filming and preparing for multiple projects was a factor. Not sure if it was originally planned for them to play a bigger role but it definitely felt like the same dialogue between them and I hated it. I also didn’t like that they didn’t use Anthony more with Colin. It was mostly Kate and her newfound wisdom about marriage and zero from Anthony. He’s like raw eggs in the morning bro. Like come on. That did nothing for me.

I’m sure there will be more to come but for now these are my initial thoughts. As a thing separate from the book it’s fantastic as a fan of the book just wish there were certain things different.

[sleepyfireball]

I loved Season 3 so much (Violet Bridgerton Edition)

If you haven't guessed (God help you) Violet is my favourite character and I have a lot of thoughts about her storyline in Part 2.

First her storyline with John and Francesca. Something I really enjoy about Violet is that she is not perfect, and she actively learns from her past mistakes and tries to do better. That being said, she does still make mistakes. While she is significantly better this season at not pushing her children too hard in the marriage mart, she still does push Francesca a bit. I think she recognises that Francesca loves John, but she is not sure if she is in love with John. She is hesitant to speak to the Queen on their behalf, mostly because Agatha point blank tells her that the Queen will sniff out her doubts, even though Violet said her doubts do not matter in the face of Francesca's happiness. However, I do think Violet benefited from hearing that falling in love can look different, it does not always have to sudden and instantaneous and loud. Violet has a habit of expecting her children to experience love the way she did and it is important for her to recognise that her loved experience is not the only experience of true love. Also, Francesca forgave Violet, which I think was really important as well. An important part of growing up is realising that your parents are people too and as such, make mistakes. The scene of the two of them playing the piano together will live happily in my heart forever, as will John's acknowledgement of Violet's role in her children's lives.

I also found it quietly funny that Violet told Francesca she stumbled over her words the first time she met Edmund, then, not 5 minutes later, was stumbling over her words when speaking to Marcus. Not to mention that in part one, Violet had stumbled through her disastrous introduction to Marcus in the first place.

I love love loved seeing Violet and Marcus's story play out. Daniel Francis and Ruth Gemmell have amazing chemistry together and honestly were amazing in their scenes together. The way that he was constantly seeking her out at social events and he came to call on her was so sweet; even if Violet was so horny watching him eat that little dessert. I think Marcus should definitely be the one to tend her garden and I loved seeing them dance together. A romantic dance for the first time in 12 years for Violet. I enjoyed that she looked nervous but also excited to get to dance again. I also enjoyed that they put their relationship on the backburner to sort out their own issues. That's a really healthy outlook and I love that their communication is strong enough that they were comfortably able to talk about it. If I had my way, before season 4 we would get a prequel series about Young Violet and Edmund, paralleled with Violet and Marcus's proper courtship.

Marcus's scenes with Agatha were also top tier. Daniel Francis and Adjoa Andoh blew it out of the water, particularly in the scene where they both want to go after Violet when she's upset at the Mondrich ball. I feel like that scene hit really hard after watching QC:ABS and seeing just how miserable Agatha was in her arranged marriage. Also, seeing Agatha desperately trying to throw widows who are not Violet at her brother in the hopes that he would get distracted was hilarious, but I did appreciate that he did not waver in his feelings for Violet once. That is exactly what Violet deserves, not some wishy washy man who can't commit, like we were worried he would be, due to the rake comments from Part 1. I really appreciated that Marcus went and apologised, to resolve the matter almost as soon as he found out why Agatha was so angry at him. (her holding a grudge against a 10 year old is mildly hilarious, even if it leads to some pretty bad consequences) and that Agatha was willing to accept his apology and looked most pleased seeing him and Violet together after they had made up.

Now, Violet and Agatha's scenes. Oh my god, Ruth Gemmell and Adjoa Andoh give a master-class in acting because the two scenes they share, in Ep7 and Ep8 respectively are truly some of my favourite from across the whole show and spin off. This friendship between Violet and Agatha means so much and it is clear that neither of them want to jeopardise that friendship. The scene is Ep7 where Violet assures Agatha that their friendship is non-transactional is so important because all her life, Agatha has been told that in order to receive love, she has to provide something in return. Violet tells her, in no uncertain terms, that they will remain friends even after there are no more matches to make. For me as someone who struggled to make true friends for the longest time, seeing this relationship onscreen made me cry. And the scene in Ep8 where they finally actually talk about the discoveries made in QC:ABS is amazing as well. The cinematography in particular for this scene, I adored. The moment Agatha acknowledges that she loved Violet's dad, the camera hides away, behind the couch. When looking at Agatha, the camera is hidden away behind Violet's head. It feels like we are barely supposed to see that scene, because the two ladies are barely supposed to be talking about it. The filmography made the scene feel voyeuristic in a way, like the audience was not supposed to see it. This isn't even to mention the insane acting. I genuinely feel like I am just watching a conversation occur naturally between two people, not a scripted scene that is being acted out. The fact that they finally acknowledged everything from QC:ABS is also monumentsl as it means that Violet and Agatha are willing to move past that and continue their friendship, no matter what. Having Agatha say she will choose Violet over Marcus should he handle things wrong felt so wonderful as well, especially when you have the juxtaposition with Penelope and Eloise and Colin. And panning over to the hat at the end of that scene was wonderful. Not to mention the whole rest of that scene focused on Agatha reassuring Violet about Francesca and John as she had been doing all season.

If I could change anything about this I would add in two scenes. 1. Agatha consoling Violet after she runs out of the Mondrich Ball and 2. Getting Violet and Colin talking about the Whistledown reveal, because we were robbed of Ruth Gemmell's wonderful acting for that scene. I also want to know what was in that letter. I also would have liked to see Violet helping out a little more for Colin and Penelope, but I understand why she brought in Kate and Anthony to help him out.i would have loved more bonding scenes between Penelope and Violet and also Penelope and Agatha, but I was just glad we got the small crumbs of those relationships that we did. Three things I loved, when The Queen told everyone who was not a Bridgerton to leave, Agatha stayed right there and the Queen did not dare question her. And Anthony being overprotective over Violet and Kate telling him to chill. I do wanna see his reaction if we get Violet and Marcus seriously courting through. And the rest of her kids reactions to cluing onto Marcus was basically good for her, which I was very happy about and felt really healthy for their family dynamic.

I could talk about these three actors and these plot lines until the sun burns up, but that'll do for now

[youkaiyume]

Alright, I have finally gotten through the rest of Bridgerton Season 3 Part 2 (twice) now, and I do have some thoughts. I am going to be splitting what I liked and what I didn't into different posts.

This one will be all the things I did not love.

Spoilers below.

--

Overally I'm not quite sure how to feel? While I'm happy with where they ended, I thought how they got there was extremely rough. And it's not as if I don't like a bit of drama, but the amount of stress and heartbreak in between was too much. Perhaps I should have kept away from the Bridgerton interviews because they really set my expectations high, for certain things.

From the delirious high of Episode 5 that really gave us everything, to the lows of the Whistledown reveal hanging over us in the rest of the season, I truly was befuddled on my couch at 2 AM. I expected Colin to be angry with Pen about Whistledown, but I truly did not expect for them to go into their wedding and then well into their marriage not having hashed out these wounds or accepting one another fully.

When Colin accused her of entrapment it was truly crushing, especially when he had so passionately denied to her mother before of this very accusation. Only now to throw it in her face and confirm all of her deepest fears and regrets. Even if he could not have reconciled her alter ego with Penelope I had hoped that he would assure her that he still loved her so that she could go into the chapel the next morning without feeling that he was only there out of obligation. When he said these things I was surprised that Penelope did not offer to withdraw from the engagement. Not only if he was so clearly unhappy but also I couldn't believe that she would marry him knowing this is what he thought of her. This would have been great for the official reveal when she is up on stage making her speech to the ton, where he was standing by her side to speak. Not literally, I understand the importance of wanting her to step into her power by herself in the spotlight, but it would have been nice to see her doing it knowing she had the full support and love of her husband.

Instead, she went up there believing that he would want to annul the marriage, and that she had done this in a way to secure her and her family's future without him--because she--and WE have been told this entire season that a woman has to look out for herself. How wonderful it would have been to be proven wrong--that she is not alone.

Don't get me wrong, I did feel in the way he looked at her during the wedding and when they danced that there is a clear longing and love for her despite their rift. And when he said their vows I genuinely felt that he meant them and wanted nothing more to be hers. It's clear despite everything, deep down he still wants that happy ending with her, but the show sure spent the entire time having them not talk about their feelings.

Again, I had fully thought that by the time they were married he accepted her, and the the entire plot revolving Cressida's blackmail would be him fully trying to protect and support his wife because he loved all of her and feared for her safety. Instead, it came off like he was protecting Penelope because she was a Bridgerton now and he didn't want this to sully their good name. Not even the line about him being mad about someone blackmailing his wife was enough for me. I will temper this once again with it was clear that of course he still loved and was beginning to understand her, especially when he made his plea to Cressida to spare Penelope.

Don't get me wrong, I love angst but I did not think it would drag on until the last moments of the series. And it's the kind of marriage that I also did not like for Season 1, where Daphne and Simon spent most of their time married apart. My stomach really dropped when I realized 'oh, we're doing this again...' And yes we did get a brief "honeymoon" period tho this is misleading when the actors promoted it because it took place during their engagement before the reveal. But even then we could not fully enjoy the moments when they were blissfully happy because Penelope's secret hung so heavily over them.

It is certainly complex all of the feels he's having--loving her, angry and betrayed by her, feeling deep sympathy for her while also envying her success. Penelope feeling like he can't love all these parts of her even if they're not perfect, her constant regret, not wanting to give up her voice--it's all too much for them and it was clear they did not have time to unpack all of this in the time they had. I feel like we needed at least one extra episode or two.

And to add insult to injury, we took up so much time panning back to Benedict's sexcapades. And look, don't get me wrong I was giggling like a schoolgirl when we got confirmed bi-benedict. But also I felt like the times we flashed back to him in the bedroom was too much. In fact I was slightly confused because the way it was shot/the same location made me think they were just returning to the same sex scene over and over again. As if the entire plot was happening over days and Ben hasn't been able to take off his shirt yet! Trapped forever in an endless night instead of it reading like 'this is several trysts that he's had.' I don't need these many scenes to understand that he's enjoying his newfound sexuality. Especially by comparison we got so little of Polin in their own season--both as a couple and promised spicy moments--they spent so much of it apart!

And then!! There is Eloise!! There's a lot I can say about Eloise, but the main one for right now is just how much her self absorption continues to shine through. The way she just treats her supposed friends like convenient audiences to talk to, and immediately ignores them when they have problems of their own. They way she cannot be bothered to truly learn or care about a single thing about them unless it affects her in some way.

Truly my flabber was gasted when she told Pen it was a good thing Cressida should take the fall, only to turn around and deny Cressida any help in her fake Whistledown paper when it would have solved all of their problems. Like, you know Cress is lying! Just help her out, you know she's desperate to save herself and it would also save Pen! Even if Cress took the mantle briefly and then retired by saying she quit because she is now unmasked that would have been ideal.

Instead she walked away and is now shocked when Cressida decides to talk shit about everyone including the Bridgerton family. Prompting Pen to come out of hiding (at your behest!!!) to save your ass AGAIN with Whistledown--which by the way Eloise was so very pleased and grateful for the next morning. And then truly said thanks for that sis, sorry that blew up your engagement tho lol sorry I won't try to help out with that or support you at all. Like. WTF. I could write essays on how Eloise continues to disappoint me despite my best hopes for her but you can tell I get a little ranty about her.

A little minor thing I am not sure how to feel now also is how Polin's son is now the Featherington heir. Like I know that's overall a good thing and I am pleased she won the baby race--it means Pen and Colin can now move into Featherington house and just live across the square and she's saved her mother and family. but also Pen knows that is a fortune she is claiming to be from her Whistledown earnings is actually stolen money--A crime that her now husband tried in Season 2 to return to the rightful members of the ton. I can't imagine he'd feel completely okay with that... unless this is another secret she is keeping from him? I dunno, it's very messy. But also! I would have liked for Colin and Pen to have spent some time actually traveling child free together on an actual honeymoon. (Did they even get to honeymoon????) But Colin immediately knocked her up their first time together he's too powerful I guess.

Anyway, I have good things to say too, I'll probably post about them later.

[bisexualfemalemess]

BRIDGERTON SEASON 3 PART TWO SPOILERS

Episode 7: I’m only 20 seconds in and i already can not handle the drama 😭😭😭 He followed her because he was worried because the last time she left she was having a panic attack and fainted and now he finds out she’s his worst enemy :(( somebody take that pen away from shonda, there is no need for this much angst :(((

I’m actually gonna scream like i fully can’t handle this, it’s the equivalent to hearing your parents fighting when you’re little and covering your ears :(

As angsty as this scene is i have to commend Luke Netwon’s acting because that tear rolling down his face, colin’s just a sensitive baby boy and it shows. Also kudos to Nicola coughlan’s acting because i can just feel how distraught penelope is over the whole situation.

Not baby boy saying he will never forgive her and then just sulking in bed :( I‘m not sure i‘ll survive this episode.

The fake whistledown is so ooc i‘m glad Penelope shut that shit down fast.

PENELOISE!!!!! It is so important to me that Eloise said she feels stuck between the two of them because that still shows she still genuinely loved penelope and doesn’t just hold some lingering affection from how close they used to be. We’re so back.

THE REASSURANCE AND HEART TO HEART, PENELOPE HOLDING HER HAND. GUYS WE SURVIVED THE GREAT WAR IMMA JUMP OUT A WINDOW, POLIN NEXT!

Damn colin! What happened to hello? How are you? He’s just over her demanding answers from eloise, lmaoooo. Eloise, babe, i love you but were you not the one suggesting that pen just keeps her husband in the dark and drops the lw persona? Don’t back track now. Not them having a bitch-off about who was hurt the most by penelope like guys maybe you should focus your energy on trying to understand her instead of going at each other’s throats. But also Eloise defending pen to colin, they’re truly so back. SHE SAID SHE WANTS TO FORGIVE HER SHE LOVES HER SO BAD MY BESTIES ARE ACTUALLY COMING BACK 😭😭😭😭😭 i actually feel so bad for el, colin and penelope. Like they’re all valid with their feelings and i need them to officially make-up so bad.

That entrapment comment? Like i get that he’s lashing out because he’s upset after finding out that his best friend and love of his life is also his worst enemy but let’s not forget that he was the one chasing the carriage, begging on his knees for a chance, finger-banged her into near-orgasm, and made the first move in the mirror scene because the poor girl was a virgin who didn’t know shit about sex. ARGUMENT NULL AND VOID BABY BOY.

Poor pen :(((((( She loves him y’all. WHAT DO YOU MEAN “let us get through this wedding then we will decide what this marriage will be.”??? Like i hope he comes to terms with whistledown because it’s such an essential part of penelope, they can’t just sweep it under the rug. I love how the mom’s are so concerned about them but they don’t stop to think about maybe, i don’t know, asking them what’s going on? Like they won’t get an answer but at least they would’ve tried. Right now they’re either too wrapped up in the planning or lady danbury’s brother to even try and figure out what’s going on, like, of course you’re not gonna know the reason then. Colin stress-drinking being canon is like the worst thing that could ever happen to me. It’s literally the night before their wedding and shit’s not resolved yet, i’m gonna scream into a pillow.

Aww i hate that penelope’s so understanding about colin’s anger but like i also love that about her because she will admit her mistakes and admit that she’s wrong and that’s so hard to find in a character sometimes. I also love her friendship with Genevieve like she’s the only one that truly understands her.

Lmaoo not penelope stepping onto that platform thingy or step or whatever it was to be taller like baby you’re still just three apples tall. DAMN, Penelope really said, “i am not standing for this slander anymore” and threw his words back at him. Does this fight count as talking things out? Personally i would say yes but 🤷‍♀️

“you should’ve told me to my face.” Like??? Did she not…try? Did she not utter the words marina’s in love with another and you just brushed her off??? Like sir don’t throw that at her when you damn well know she tried to do everything she could’ve before resorting to her gossip column.

The acting is so insanely good oh my god like i get both of them here but i’m a little bit biased and slightly more on pen’s side, whistledown is a good thing, it protects the bridgertons and helps them.(sometimes without them even realizing it.)

I love how penelope just has to drop the l-word and colin pushes her up against a wall, making out with her in the middle of a street. Like are We sure LW is gonna be a problem, colin? At least he made sure she got into the carriage this time.

Not Violet calling in the big guns with Kanthony like they’re so sickeningly in love with each other what marital advice can they give colin??? Kate’s so pretty and her bump is so cute. “You think our marriage is perfect?” “Is it not?” Anthony’s not helping at all lmaooo. Poor woman is truly working overtime trying to get everyone out of their slump while pregnant first el, then gregory, now colin. Just let her rest??? And anthony’s little comments lmaoo he was not having any of it.

Kanthony reminiscing about their wedding??? And you expect me to say they’re not sickening??? SHUT UP NOT YELLOW BEING PLAYED FOR POLINS WEDDING IM ACTUALLY GONNA JUMP OF A BRIDGE THIS IS SO PERFECT. Can we take a moment to appreciate penelope’s wedding gown??? She looks so fucking ethereal oh my god. Like one thing about bridgerton, the women always look ethereal.

I know we haven’t resolved the LW issue yet but colin looks so genuinely in love and happy during the wedding scene. It’s sad to know that will probably not last :( Eloise And prudence both crying of happiness, so true. Aww penelope’s sister being nice to her, she’s so not used to it.

PEN AND ELOISE EYE CONTACT EYE CONTACT EYE CONTACT LIKE YOU GIRLS ARE ALREADY SO BACK.

Not Benedict fucking off from his own brother’s wedding for what??? The threesome or what??

Awww Anthony wants a birth in india 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 he’s such a looser for her. I love kanthony so much 🥺🥺🥺

Portia is actually so??? i don’t know, nurturing??? Like she truly shows she cares for pen.

Also POLIN DANCING TO YOU BELONG WITH ME I REPEAT POLIN DANCING TO YOU BELONG WITH ME. They’re the cutest oh my god. The way the entire room just disappeared and colin was this 🤏 close to throwing all sense out the window and folding, like he would’ve full on made out with her if the queen hadn’t entered. LMAOO NOT PENELOPE LEAVING WHEN THE QUEEN SAID BRIDGERTONS ONLY AND COLIN LITERALLY HAD TO PULL HER BACK???

I’m 100% certain penelope would’ve full on confessed she was whistledown if Francesca hadn’t stepped up with her kilmartin thing. She’s so cute. The queen clocked their tea and anthony seriously was like no you’re wrong.

THAT FUCK ASS WIG I HATE THAT FUCK ASS WIG FOR THE RESHOOTS, I THOUGHT I’D NEVER HAVE TO SEE IT AGAIN 🙄🙄🙄 On another note i love that pen is delivering with her speech here, like yes queen pop off my little feminist. The queen just had to ruin the wedding, did she?

AWW WAR IS SO TRULY OVER WE GOT A SCENE OF ELOISE COMFORTING AND HUGGING PENELOPE AS SHES CRYING INTO HER SHOULDER! PENELOISE BACK SO TRUE SO REAL

WOAH HAPPY PRIDE MONTH TO BENEDICT BRIDGERTON I GUESS. A WIN FOR THE GAYS, BI’S, WHATEVER YOU IDENTIFY AS. ELOISE NEXT!

[whamgram]

Your fic is killing me ITS KILLING ME. Please just let them kiss already I’m begging you. This slow burn hurts so good but I can’t take it anymore and I don’t think they can either. I’m going to explode like alastor if they don’t kiss soon.

But seriously under my skin is everything to me. I drop everything I’m doing to read it the second I get the notification. The writing is so good I’m in awe how much it feels like a season of the show. I love the way you write alastor. He’s goofy and charming like in the show but still has a threatening aura. His slow realization of his feelings for charlie is so believable too. As a demi person myself, I really love that it was a gradual thing and he wasn’t all of a sudden lusting after her. I love how the moments of attraction slowly intensified and each chapter he got bolder until he was literally crawling into her lap. Poor guy was desperate and he didn’t know what to do about it until the next chapter.

On that topic THAT scene from last chapter was so flipping hot. I love how you described alastor’s half made fantasies. He has a mental block because of his shame but also he’s never been interested in sex so he doesn’t even know what to imagine. And then he wants her so bad that he’s finally able to imagine something. Him clawing at the armrest and pretending it’s her boob was so hot gahhhhh.

Thank you thank youuuu please never abandon this fic I might die <3

I'm sorry. 😅 I promise there will be some payoff to the slow burn soon!

Thank you so much! ❤️ I love how Alastor is such a goofy guy while still having this underlying cunning and sadistic personality. And yesss, I wanted to sprinkle in the moments of attraction while he's working through his feelings for Charlie. Staring at her boobs, appreciating her smile, feeling a prickle on his neck, little things like that before he has a full body reaction and realizes he's sexually attractive to her. He starts craving physical contact with her so badly, I don't think he realizes half the time when he's all over her.

You're exactly right regarding the spicy scene! Previous to giving into his desires, Alastor very much had a mental block about his Charlie fantasies. Part of that was self-inflicted because he felt so much shame about having these thoughts/urges in the first place. And part of that was because he just straight up didn't know what to imagine. Not that he's totally clueless about sex, but a lack of experience and interest would mean that he doesn't really have a catalog of fantasies to pull from. But after all the close encounters that he and Charlie had that night - her squirming in his lap, him pinning her to the bed, etc. - that combined with his utter desperation gave him enough in the spank bank to imagine his fantasies to completion. 😈

And don't worry! There are no plans to abandon this fic. The Charlastor parasite has permanently fixated itself to my frontal lobe. ❤️‍🔥

[justsomemusingsandthoughts]

Now about season 3 of Bridgerton....some thought from a Greys Anatomy fan of the first hour cause I need to get it off my chest :)

I was really excited to see Polins story unfold even though I didn't watch Bridgerton before or read the books but I was swept up by the excitement on tiktok and got invested in their story.

But as soon as I heard Shona was involved I was like okayyyyyy, I gotta keep my expectations in check cause the women is not one to write healthy and lasting relationships and reasonable men who communicate well😬

Looking at how the season played out, I completely understand why so many people are disappointed cause there was so much potential wasted, so many scenes that could have made clear to the viewer what was going on in Colins head. I think I filled in the gaps in my mind but there are still some moments, some things he said and did that were almost character destroying, specially the comment about the entrapment, cause dude, she didn't even know what sex was🙄 Also, not even trying to have a converation with her about why LW started and has such significance to her was not sth Colin would do.

And that's the crux of why I think for many die hard fans, the season was a let down. They didn't show any true discussions or enough moments of passion alongside the argument cause in truth, there was no time with all the unnecessary side plots and so few episodes. If you saw the season you know, I won't list them all but I will say they better put a proper Polin side story and spicy scene in Ben's season cause the amount of pointless threesomes I had to skip through is almost offensive, especially cause it should be clear people want intimate scenes of the main couple😮‍💨

But looking at all of it considering this show is part of Shondaland, I am not the least bit surprised. The number of downright character assasinations I watched on Grey's (and other shows of hers) after over a decade watching the development of some of them is kinda ridiculous. The number of ruined relationships and the horrible ways most of them were ruined (I almost cannot believe I'm saying this now but thank god they killed off Derek before completely undoing who he actually was and what Meredith meant to him😭).

Untimately, Shonda loves the drama and the angst and very clearly doesn't think there is much entertainment value in showing happy couples resolving their issues in a healthy way. If you watch a project she's involved in, you gotta be prepared for the couple to not make it and in that way, Bridgerton fans are rather lucky considering no matter how the seasons play out, it's gonna end with a happy couple that's not gonna split up again.

She also was never gonna just take books and keep to the narrative cause I don't believe that would be any fun to her. Especially this season, since she has said that Pen is her favorite character. I was immediately thinking Colin will be taking a back seat and have moments viewers will hate him for to have Pen in the forefront individually.

I guess I'm gonna take away and rewatch the beautiful moments, even some of the angsty ones and wait for what little side plots Polin will have in future seasons. I don't believe I will watch the entirety of future seasons cause I'm not interested to be disappointed by Shonda Rhimes' story telling anymore. Been there done that😂

But my little obsession with Polin was still worth it cause they're just an amazing fictional couple and I might just read their book now☺️

And I have definitely found a new actress to follow along for her future roles cause Nicola is just amazing as an actress and as a person🥰

(Also find it deeply offensive to make an audience wait for 2 years (!!!) for 8 episodes but that's for another day😅)

[antimony-medusa]

MCYT on Ao3 - June '24

It's that time again, looking at the stats on Ao3! My life is a little on fire but at least I still have SPREADSHEETS.

Some Notes:

No new fandoms this month that I found! If you know of any, let me know. We are sitting at 54 fandoms I'd consider MCYT, and also Video Blogging!

Fics are still primarily in english, but we have three exceptions with significant spanish fics. Karmaland (797 of 906 are in spanish, from 779 last month), Tortillaland (113 of 119 are in spanish, same as last month), and QSMP (1031 of 9,723 are in spanish, from 992 last month.)

I'm probably going to stop checking all the fics in the QSMP tag, but for a final hurrah, I went through all the languages! 1 work in Bahasa Malaysia, 1 fic in Dansk (Danish), 2 fics in Deutsch (German), 1 work in Esperanto, 1 work in Filipino, 51 works in French (up from 48 last month), 1 in Lingua latina (Latin!), 2 fics in Polski (Polish), 569 in Brazilian Portuguese (from 519 last month), 5 in European Portuguese, 9 fics in Русский (Russian), 1 fic in Suomi (Finnish), 1 fic in Svenska (Swedish), 1 fic in Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese), 3 fics in Türkçe (Turkish), 1 fic in Українська (Ukrainian), 5 fics in 中文-普通话 國語 (Mandarin Chinese, I believe), up from 4 last month.

In the small and micro fandoms, we saw a general output of less than last month, but Kaboodle was still our standout at 14 fics! This is down from SOS's standout of 19 fics last month (they posted 11 this month).

In the mid-size fandoms, MyStree and Evolution SMP continued to jockey for the lead, but in contrast to last month, Evolution took it this month, with 36 fics.

In the large fandoms, we were kind of all over the map. Hermitcraft is back to posting more than the previous month (700 to 648, as their season is still going strong), and traffic's 494 was higher than last month's 471, but QSMP's 396 was down from last month's 421, potentially impacted by their season ending. Empires posted almost exactly the same as last month (145 to last month's 144), Dream SMP's 352 was up from last month's 224, and Lifesteal's 92 was down from last month's 107.

Minecraft FINALLY pulled itself out of the negatives, posting an increase of 204, and Video Blogging's 2,452 was comparable both to last month's 2,511, but much reduced from last year's 3,921. With that holding strong in that range I would theorize that with the significant drop from this time last year in DSMP, (1,357 a year ago, 352 this month), we saw that some of the folks no longer posting DSMP have left MCYT as a fandom and gone to other fandoms, not just relocated within MCYT.

[ilsafaaust]

.

[bellamygateoldblog]

maddy and rue should slowly become unlikely besties and then eventually eachother's favourite person over time sort of like malorie and kate in cruel summer as the dynamics shift and different characters grow apart from the relationships they started in and branch out to other people

[perfectharmonyloveschaos]

The fact that in the year 2022 we still have people venemously hating on Luther for how he acts in Season 1 because he triggered Vanya's trauma and made her anger over her abuse worse which causes her to lash out because of said abuse... despite in the same breath downplaying and insulting Luther's own trauma for impacting his rational thinking and making him react and lash out because of his own abuse.

You can be crying over one abuse victim's trauma being disregarded while also disregarding another abuse victim's trauma. Trauma explains actions but doesn't excuse it how many times do people have to explain that??