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buckys-wintersoldier · 3 months

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A little bit older, a whole lot nicer | Ari Levinson

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 -> (Ex-)BoyfriendsDad!Ari Levinson x Female!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> When your boyfriend breaks up his dad takes care of you. He will treat you right and even though he is older it doesn’t stop the feelings you have for one another.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 6.402

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) 18+, Minors DNI, shitty ex-boyfriend, angst, smut, age gap (reader in her early 20’s, Ari in his early 40’s), fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), unprotected p in v, multiple orgasm, cum eating, hint of Ari’s breeding kink, daddy kink, praises, aftercare, lots of kisses, insulting (ex boyfriend calling her a whore/bitch), fluff

𝐀/𝐍 -> I want to thank @little-miss-dilf-lover for helping me to come up with the ideas. @amathslutsguidetofandom for helping to decide a title. I also want to thank @imtryingbuck for proofreading.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The sun is beautiful, brightening the living room of the Levinsons. It's a big room with the most adorable windows you have ever seen; they reach the ground, and when the sun is shining into the house, the living room is the brightest room in the house. The furniture is white, but it still looks soft. In the middle is a large couch you're sitting on right now. It's comfortable and warm; behind your back are some cushions, and your legs are crossed while you let the sun shine on your face.

Noah, your boyfriend, and you have been dating for three years now. He introduced you to his dad pretty soon after you started to date, and since then, you've always been welcome at their house. His dad loved you from the first time he saw you, admiring the way you smile and when your nose is slightly scrunched when you find something disgusting.

"Ari, do you think he will be happy that I'm surprising him?" You ask, shifting slightly and looking around to face the older man.

Ari, who is sitting in the armchair, nods his head before he narrows his eyebrows. His middel long, brown hair falls into his face when he does so, and he wipes the strands with his big hand back behind his ear. His muscles are flexing, and you can see the veins poking out when he moves his arm. The t-shirt he is wearing only covers his shoulder, and you gasp slightly at this view. Even though you have seen it a lot, you always admire it, and your mouth is immediately watering.

"Is everything all right between the two of you?" Ari asks, his steel blue eyes piecring into yours.

You swallow hard, then you nod slightly. You're not sure if it's right or not because Noah acts weird when he is around you. He has less time for you, and when he avoids talks or dates, you only sit around; sometimes you cuddle, but most of the time he just convinces you to let him fuck you. It's not that you don't like it, but he doesn't pay attention to your feelings, and when he comes, he pulls out; he doesn't care if you have pleasure, and when it was him first loving you, it's now only fucking you. No aftercare; just a small kiss before he takes a shower, dresses himself, and lets you take a shower then too. When you watch movies, they are the only ones he likes, and when you ask for one to watch, he tells you the other movie is the one he prefers.

"What is it, princess? Did he hurt you?"

Ari leans forward and places his arms on his thighs, still looking at you. You shiver softly when he looks at you with such an intense stare. You don't know that your boyfriend's father knows you that well, but he does. He knows when you're not feeling well; he sees it in the way your eyes aren't shining as much as they are used to. Your smile is still beautiful, but it doesn't reach your eyes, at least not right now when you try to smile. You shake your head. You want to tell him about the things that aren't as great in yours and Noah's relationship anymore, but you're afraid that Ari will push you away then. Since you feel so welcome in this family, like you never were in your own, you feel safe and loved. But throw it away because you may just ask for too much in a relationship.

"He doesn't do anything. That's the problem, but I probably just ask for too much," you say with a sad smile on your lips before you sigh. "When we were just a few weeks together, he was always so cute; he paid attention when I liked something or when I didn't like it. But now-"

You interrupt yourself when you shake your head slightly. Tears form in your eyes, and you turn your face away so Ari won't see them. You hear him sighing and leaning back. Before you can say something, your phone is buzzing, and you take it to see that Noah sent you a message.

'Hi, I thought a while now about a way to tell you. Sorry, but I have to break up; things between us just don't work anymore.'

You gasp slighly, and when you go on his chat, you see that he changed his profile picture. Noah had the same picture as you — one where you wrapped your arms around his neck and he kissed your cheek. Now he has changed it to him kissing another girl. You feel the tears slowly rolling down your cheeks, and you try not to sob loudly. Your heart aches, your world is breaking down in just a short time, and you feel like there is nothing left but pain. You don't know what hurts more — that he obviously cheated on you or that you lost the only place where you felt really comfortable and safe.

Even though you loved Noah, you fell slowly for his dad. You wouldn't have broken up because you thought Ari was just like a dad for you, but whenever he touches you or the two of you are alone, you feel a tingling in your body. When he looks at you with his intense stare and starts smiling, it warms your heart. But you just thought it was because your father left when you were younger, but Ari would stay up all night with you when Noah would sleep, and you would have a nightmare — you know, because it happened and Ari was making sure you felt better when Noah was ignoring you and mad that you woke him up.

You woke up with sweat covering your whole body; your breath was heavy while you looked through the room with wide eyes. A nightmare woke you up, and you felt like someone was still looking at you. But you couldn't see anyone in the room; you heard your heart beating, the blood rushing through your veins, and you felt the tears all over your cheeks.

"Noah?" You asked quietly, looking for your boyfriend, who was sleeping next to you.

You softly grasped his shoulder and woke him up. The way he looked at you made you shiver; the usual expression full of love was just an annoyed and disappointed one. He didn't care what you wanted; he pushed you back and turned around. You were crying silently, sitting up to pull your knees up and wrap your arms around your legs. But after another groan from Noah and him telling you to be 'fucking quiet now or he will help you out with his dick' you decided to get up and go to the living room.

When you walked out of Noah's room, you already heard the television in the living room. Walking to the room quietly before you looked around to see Ari lying on his couch, his face turned to the television until you cleared your throat. His blue eyes were looking up and down your body for injuries or something. When he didn't see any, he smirked and sat up, showing you to sit down next to him, and you did. Ari was placing a blanket around your shoulders, his broad hand rubbing over your back, while your body was slightly trembling. Your legs bounced up and down, and Ari knew you always did that when you were nervous.

"What's wrong, princess?" He asked, and you felt the shiver along your spine, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body.

"Just a nightmare," you said, pulling the blanket closer around you.

Ari drew small circles on your back and offered you a cup of hot chocolate. You agreed, and he sat there with you, watching the most romantic movies, until you fell asleep in his arms. He laid together with you on the couch, pulling you with your back as close as possible against his rboad chest, and his arm was wrapped around your waist while he watched you half of the night. He had never seen someone more adorable, and he just couldn't bring himself to look away from you.

He can never get enough of you; his eyes are always on you when you're around. And his smirk grows when he hears you laughing. But right now, he just hears the quiet, muffled sobs leaving your pretty lips. Ari sighs, leaning back in his armchair, before he clears his throat, getting your attention.

"I-I'm sorry. I-I should leave now," you mumble quietly.

You want to get up, but your legs feel so weak that you just fall back down on the couch. He looks at you, wanting nothing more, but holds you close and makes sure that whatever caused you to feel that bad disappears. Ari wants to comfort you, but he doesn't want to force you to be close to him if you don't want to.

"Princess, come here," he says, tapping his thigh, and you look at him with red, widening eyes.

Ari almost hisses when he sees the trails of your tears down your cheeks, your red eyes, and the way your bottom lip is slightly wobbling. You swallow thickly and push yourself up from the couch. You make your way over to him slowly. The pain in your chest grows when you think about Noah and the way he was never there for you, but his dad is. Ari is sitting in front of you, his steel-blue eyes showing you so much love. The older man waits for you to sit down on his thigh, and you do, your legs dangling over one of his legs while you sit on the other. Aris' hand is sliding up and down your back, his fingers drawing circles on the fabric of your shirt. Your head is placed against his shoulder, and your tears are soaking the shirt slowly.

“What happened, princess?”

“N-Noah, h-he cheated. A-And he broke up. Am I not good-looking enough? I-I understand when you hate me now; I'm sorry,” you say, fisting his shirt and pulling it tight against you, inhaling his scent deeply.

“Princess, you’re beautiful — the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Looks like Noah just doesn’t know what he is going to lose when he prefers some girl he just hooked up with instead of the beautiful girl who is sitting in my lap right now,” Ari says, his hand sliding higher to your neck.

You lean more against him, his shirt still tightly in your hand, when you look up at him. Your teary eyes meet his ocean one, and you see something in them you have seen so often, but this time it feels different. It feels special. There is something that makes his eyes shine in a combination of lust and love, like the ocean blue has a small bit of darker blue in them. You get lost in his eyes — the way you can see deep into his soul — and he doesn’t stop you; he doesn’t turn away or push you away. Ari is looking into your eyes with such an intention that your legs are getting weak, and if you didn’t sit in his lap, you would probably fall down.

“Ari—" you whisper.

His other hand found its way to your thigh, but you didn’t realize until he squeezed it softly. He smirks and his eyes light up the moment his lips curl up and you bite your lip. The tension between the two of you changed suddenly. You want — you need Ari. The skin underneath his large hand tingles, and you want more of that feeling; you want to forget everything that Noah caused — the pain, the tears. You only want Ari, want to give in to the feeling you both tried to hide for so long.

“What is it, pretty girl?” He asks, pushing you softly away, causing you to sit straight in his lap.

His hands capture your cheeks, and he wipes your tears softly with his thumbs away. Ari’s lips are just a few inches away from yours, and you can feel his breath on your skin, warm and soft. His touches are soft, his thumbs moving lightly over your cheeks. You lean close, closing your eyes, but you don't break the distance, too afraid of what he could do or say when you would do so. Ari chuckles, pulling you even closer, and presses his pink, plump lips on yours. His lips move as softly as possible against yours; they're salty because of your tears, but it doesn't bother the two of you. You part your lips slightly, letting Ari slide his tongue into your mouth, playing with your tongue while his one hand is still holding you by your neck and his other is stroking over your thigh. You feel his fingers inching closer to your core before he moves his hand away.

“Ari, please—" you say, pulling away softly and looking at him through your lashes.

“Princess, we can’t. I’m way too old for you. I shouldn’t have kissed you; I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

He doesn’t think like that, not at all. But your boyfriend just broke up, and Ari would fuck you now — even if he would make love to you — it would be just to distract you from your ex-boyfriend. And as much as he loves you, he doesn’t want to be just a one-time thing for you. His dick is growing in his pants, the kiss was hot, and the thought of you moaning his name underneath him — it turns him on beyond belief, causing his dick to throb and to soak his boxer briefs.

“But I-I love you, and I need you. Ari, please,” you whimper, tears building in your eyes.

Your eyes slide over his broad chest, which is still covered with the shirt he is wearing, over his stomach, and over his pants. His cock is pressing against the fabric, and it’s already visible that he is hard. The bugle in his pants is huge, and you whimper, your eyes focused on it, when you place your hand on top of his pants and press it slightly down. Ari watches you, and he groans when you press your hand into his cock. You can feel him growing even more and smirk softly when you look into Ari’s face.

“Daddy, I need you,” you say, seeing the change in his expression when you call him ‘Daddy’.

“I love you too. But I don’t want to be a one-time thing for you.”

“But you won’t be a one-time thing for me. I've had feelings for you for a while. B-But I thought it was just because you’re like a dad I never had, but everything is tingling when you touch me. You’re so much more than someone like a dad. Please, Ari,” you say, your hand still in his cock.

“Are you sure? I don’t think I can hold back when I get a first taste of you.”

“I’m sure. Ari, please.”

“Good. But be daddy’s good girl, yeah?” He says, smirking when he presses his lips against yours.

His tongue slips immediately past your lips, causing you to moan. Ari has never heard someone as beautiful and attractive as you moan. The older man groans into your mouth, his hand inching closer to your core. The sounds coming out of your pretty mouth make him go crazy; your soft moans are like music for the brown-haired man. Your pussy is dripping, and with every inch he gets closer to your core, you wiggle more on his lap. Ari grasps your thigh tightly, squeezing it until you’re sitting still before he moves his hands further to your pussy.

Ari pulls softly away. Both of you catch your breath while you hold his shirt still in your hands, pulling him as close as possible. His other hand glides to your ass, smacking it softly, making you yelp. Your eyes widen, your lips are still parted, and your breath is heavy when his big hand captures your pussy. Even through the fabric, it feels so intense that you throw your head back and thrust your hips against his hand.

“Don't be so impatient, princess. Daddy needed to wait to get you for so long; now you can let him play with your pussy,” he groans into your ear, kissing down your jawline to your neck.

You whimper, tilting your head to give him more space, and his lips graze over your soft skin before he bites into your neck. Ari’s marking you as is, kissing the spot where he just bites you before he kisses your neck further down. Moan leaves your lips, muffled by you biting on your lip, to stay as quiet as possible.

“Let me hear you, pretty girl. Daddy wants to hear those sweet sounds when he makes you feel good,” Ari murmurs against your skin.

“But what when you don’t like it? Ari—" you interrupt yourself when you feel another wave of tears in your eyes and then down your cheeks.

Ari stops with his kisses and removes his hand from between your thighs. He takes your hand — which is still placed in his dick — in his big one. He then brings your hands to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly. The older man looks the whole time at you, searching for a change in your eyes or in your expression. When you smile softly at him, he still sees the uncertainty in your eyes. The way your lip is slightly wobbling and your leg is bouncing so softly, but he sees it. Ari smiles softly at you, kissing your cheek and the corner of your mouth. He then presses his lips softly against yours.

“I love to hear your pretty moans. So sweet and lovely, princess,” he mumbles against your lips, peppering some kisses along your jawline.

“And when you think I’m ugly when we have sex?”

“I won’t think that. You know why?” He asks, and you shake your head. “Because you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. And Daddy’s has seen a lot of girls, but none got his attention like you get it.”

You smile, pulling your hand out of his and taking his hand in yours, guiding them back to your pussy. Ari chuckles, placing his hand on your lower stomach and rubbing his fingers in small circles over your clit. You moan, throwing your head back while you grasp his arm to steady yourself. Ari slips his hand underneath your pants and panties, his fingers moving closer to your wet entrance. He groans when he feels your arousal coating his fingers. He gazes at some of the slick around his digits and smears it all over your pussy. He plays with your clit, twirling it between his fingers before he slides his fingers once again through your folds.

“You like that, pretty girl?”

You nod, earning a soft slap on your ass. You squeal, and your eyes widen when you look at him.

“I need you to use your words, princess.”

“I-I like it, daddy,” you mumble, blushing.

Ari chuckles, pulling his hand out of your pants and smirking even more when you groan, frustrated. He grasps your hips and lifts you up, getting up as well and walking into his bedroom. You wrap your legs around his waist, and his hands hold you firmly by your ass when he enters his bedroom and places you on the bed. It’s a big one, a comfortable one, and you sigh softly when you feel the plush sheet underneath you. Ari has a lot of pillows in his bed, which isn’t as interesting as him pulling off his shirt.

A soft moan escapes your lips when you see his high-defined abs and his brown, curly chest hair. Your mouth drops open, admiring him. Ari smirks, walking a step closer, while he unbuckles his pants and lets them slip down his legs. You sit up, reaching out to slide your hand over his chest, feeling the soft hair underneath your skin. When your gaze glides lower, you see the outline of his cock; his dick is pressing against the fabric of his boxers. Where his tip is, there is a small, dark spot, showing the pre-cum leaking from his cock.

“Like what you see, babygirl?” He asks with a grin on his pink lips.

You nod, and your hand moves smoothly down over his abs until you graze with your fingers the waistband of his boxer briefs. Ari follows your movement with his steel-blue eyes, smirking when you hesitate before you let go of the fabric and look up at him. He places his hand on your cheek, caressing your skin before he pushes you by your shoulders back. You crawl backwards, placing your head on the soft pillows, and rest your arms underneath your upper body, pushing yourself up. Ari gets on the bed as well, his hands gliding soothingly over your body. When he grasps your thighs with his small hands, he pushes your legs further apart, making space to place himself between them. The older man settles his large body between your spread legs, laning over and placing his hands on both sides of your shoulders. With a smirk, he leans further down, pressing his lips softly on yours, his tongue sliding over your lips.

“Ar— Daddy, please,” you moan, hands running along his muscular man up to his broad shoulders, where you dig your fingers softly into soft skin.

He smirks, kissing down your jawline, over your neck, until he reaches your collarbone, which is still covered by your shirt. You throw your head back, letting yourself fall deeper into the pillows, and sigh softly. Ari's hands grib the hem of your shirt, and he chuckles softly, thinking a moment to just rip it off. But he decides against it and pushes it higher, revealing your stomach. You arch your back, letting him shove the fabric over your breasts, then you sit up, and Ari takes your shirt completely off. He throws it to the side and unclasps your bra. Aris touches and movements are soft and slow. When he throws your bra away to your shirt, he pushes you back down.

“Fuck, look at you. Beautiful,” he mumbles, his hand sliding over your collarbone to one of your breasts.

He kneads your soft breast in his hand, and his thumb slides over your nipple. You moan softly, arching your back to get more of his soft touches. The older man leans down, sliding his tongue over your nipple, causing you to yelp in surprise. His touches and movements are so intense. He sucks softly at your nipple, his hand playing with your other breast. Ari moves his lips further down over your stomach, kissing every inch before he reaches your panties. His fingers hook up with the waistband of your pants, shoving them together with your panties down. The older man groans when he sees your pussy. He removes your pants, settling back between your legs, and admires your pussy. You try to close your legs; his intense stare causes you to feel slightly ashamed.

“Spread your legs for Daddy; he wants to see your pretty pussy,” he groans, grabbing your thighs and pushing them further apart.

Your folds are glistening, and he inches his face closer to your dripping pussy. Ari lays on his stomach, and when his eyes are focused on your pussy, he leans closer, kissing your folds softly. You arch your back, your hands flying into his hair, and you tug harshly at them. Ari's warm breath hits your wetness, and when he licks a strap along your folds, you moan loudly, your eyes closing, and you push yourself more against him.

“There she is, good girl,” he praises.

Ari dips his tongue into your entrance, groaning when you clench around it. He pulls it out of you, using one of his hands to guide it to your entrance. The brown-haired man coats his fingers in your arousal before he pushes one digit slowly into you. Ari moves his finger in and out of you, feeling your tight walls clench around his finger. You moan softly, arching your back, while you push yourself more against him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans.

The older man leans closer, capturing your clit with his lips, and sucks softly at your sensitive spot. Your eyes roll back while his tongue twirls around your clit. His long, thick finger is moving against your sweet spot. The brown-haired man pushes another finger into you, scissoring and curling them. Ari knows exactly what he is doing with his tongue and fingers, hitting all the right spots. You feel the knot building up in your lower stomach; your moans are breathless. You tug more on his hair, pulling him closer to your pussy. Ari groans against your clit, causing a vibration through your body. A shiver runs along your spine, tears forming in your eyes, slowly rolling down your cheeks while you whimper softly.

“Aww, pretty girl. Don’t cry. Daddy's gonna take care of you; do you wanna come, princess?” He asks, looking at you.

You nod, gripping his hair tighter. He places his lips back on your clit, sucking softly. The older man pumps his fingers at a steady pace into and out of you. Your slick is dripping out of you, coating his fingers. Ari hits your sweet spot a few more times, your walls clenching hard around him, sucking him deeper into your tight cunt. Your breath hitches when you come all over his fingers. Ari groans, pulling his fingers out of you and licking a strap down to your entrance. He laps at your pussy, taking all your juice. A deep groan leaves his lips, sucking softly while he tastes your sweet cum.

“You’re tasting so good, princess. Could eat you out the whole day,” he says and smirks.

Ari gives you a moment to come down from your high. He brings his fingers to your mouth, waiting until you part your lips for him to push his fingers into your mouth. Twirling your tongue around his fingers and slowly sucking at them causes him to groan. He leans closer, pulling his fingers out of your mouth to press his lips against yours. His lips move hard against yours, full of desperation. Your hands slide along his back, scratching slowly over his soft skin.

He lets go of you, pushing himself up before he removes his boxers. The brown-haired man’s dick springs free, slapping against his stomach. Ari’s cock is huge; a vein is running along the underside of his shaft; your mouth waters; and you swallow to not suddenly drool because of the sight of his cock. His tip is red and leaking with pre-cum. Ari crawls back on the bed, pushing your legs further apart and getting between them. He grasps the base of his cock, slapping his tip softly on your pussy, You yelp in surprise, wiggling your ass in anticipation.

“You’re sure you want that?” He asks softly, his other hand reaching out to caress your cheek softly.

When you nod your head softly, Ari slides his cock through your folds, coating his dick in your arousal. He then lines himself up with your entrance and pushes the tip of his huge length into your tight pussy. Ari enters you slowly, stretching you out around his cock. Your hands rest on his back, grasping into his shoulders to give you some hold while he pushes inch by inch into you. You moan, looking into his blue eyes through your lashes, while Ari leans closer to press his lips on yours.

“You’re feeling so good, pretty girl. So tight, just made for Daddy,” he says, smirking when you clench around him.

He pushes his dick balls deep into you, staying still to give you a moment to adjust around his length. Ari is huge, and you feel a soft pain in your pussy, but when he starts to thrust his hips softly, it turns into pleasure. The older man is pulling his cock out of you before he thrusts his hips against yours again. He moves at a slow pace into you, feeling your tight walls clench around him, squeezing him so well that he feels like he wants to push his cum into you immediately.

“Can’t get enough of that pretty pussy. My pretty pussy, my princess,” Ari mumbles, pressing his lips against yours.

Ari thrusts his cock at a harder and faster pace into your pussy. You moan loudly, and your eyes widen when he hits your sweet spot with every thrust. Your walls are squeezing his length; Ari’s cock is throbbing. His mind is running wild when he remembers that he is fucking you without a condom right now — the thought of him pushing his seeds deep into your sweet cunt and pumping you full with his cum.

“I’m gonna give you all my cum, pump you so full, and push it deep into your pussy, pretty girl,” he groans, throwing his head back when you suddenly squeeze him even tighter.

The tip of his cock is hitting your sweet spot. Ari’s thrusts are fast but still soft. His balls are slapping against your ass, and his hips crash against yours. Sweat is running over your forehead, and you can feel Ari sweating just as much underneath your hands on his back. His chest hair is scratching over your breasts while he pushes in and out of you.

“Daddy, please, I’m so close,” you whine, arching your back.

Pleasure in your stomach grows with every thrust of his dick into you. His tip hits your sweet spot every time he pushes into you. The feeling of your growing orgasm gets more intense, and when Ari slips his hand between your bodies to play with your clit you throw your head back. Your eyes roll back, your mouth drops open, and you squirt all over his dick. Your walls are clenching around Ari’s cock. He groans loudly and comes just a moment after you. He pushes his cum deep into your pussy, fucking you through your orgasm.

“Fuck, you squeeze me so well. You’re feeling so good, and you’re so beautiful, princess.”

You smirk, blushing at his words. Ari’s hand slides to your face, caressing your cheek before he runs his fingers through the strands that are in your face, and he swipes them softly out of your face, bringing them behind your ear. Ari kisses you softly, pulling his cock out of you. You hiss about the sudden emptiness, feeling his seeds throbbing out of you.

"Ari—" you whine, grasping his shoulder tighter.

“Let’s clean you, and then we cook your favorite food, oke?” Ari asks, and you nod with a shy smile on your lips.

Ari gets up, walking around the bed before he picks you up and carries you into the bathroom to go to the toilet, while he looks for boxers and a shirt for you. When you finish and wash your hands, he holds the clothes up, smirking when your eyes light up. Before you can grab it, he pulls it away, wrapping his arm around your waist, and lifts you up, walking further into the bathroom to let you sit on the edge of the bathroom.

"Need to clean you first,” he says, laughing softly when you pout.

He then takes a washcloth and puts it under water. Ari brings the washcloth to your thighs, spreads them softly, then washes your inner thighs and your pussy. His touches are soft, but the friction at your sensitive push is enough to make you moan. Ari smirks while cleaning you before he hands you a towel to dry yourself and take on the clothes while he cleans himself as well.

“Ari?”

“Mhm?” He asks, turning around to look at you with a worried expression.

“You know that you could have impregnated me now?”

Ari’s eyes widen when he looks at you; he definitely thought about it. But it just turned him on, and hearing it now, he isn’t sure what you’re thinking about it. He walks closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, and he pulls you against his chest.

“Would it be bad?”

You shake your head. It wouldn’t, not at all. You have seen Ari often with kids, and he is so soft and sweet. Ari grins, leaning closer to capture your lips before he cleans himself to get dressed as well.

Ari made the two of you your favorite food, letting you sit on the kitchen counter while he always kissed you when he passed you. So he kissed you a whole lot because he walked past you on purpose. When he was cooking, his hand was resting on your thigh, and you looked at him while he was all concentrating on cooking. He filled your food on two plates and told you to get into the living room and make it comfortable while he took the plates to bring them over.

When you’re eating, you watch a movie, but Ari is focused on you because of the way you look so adorable and sweet, especially when you laugh about a silly joke in the movie. After both of you finish eating, you’re curled up on his side. At least until you hear the keys in the door before it swings open and you hear footsteps, the closing of the door, and then your ex-boyfriend walks into the living room, looking at Ari before he sees you curled up at his side.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hisses, raising his eyebrow.

“I-“ you stutter, not sure what to say, but luckily Ari helps you out when he turns to face Noah.

“We watched a movie and had lunch together.”

“That’s why she is wearing your clothes?” Noah asks suspiciously. “You— Please tell me you didn’t fuck her, did you?”

Ari and you stay quiet; you just whimpe quietly, causing the older man to pull you even more against him. His hand draws small circles on your back when he almost pulls you onto his lap.

“That’s disgusting. You just fucked that little whore?” Noah shouts; his expression shows nothing but disgust.

The older man pushes you softly away before he gets up from the couch. His jaw is clenching, and you hear him inhaling deeply. Ari walks close to Noah, with a bit of distance between them. He sighs before inhaling deeply once again.

“Watch your mouth! I haven’t raised you like that. Cheating on her and now insulting her as a whore. Firstly, maybe we shouldn’t have had sex, but we did. And secondly, just because we had sex doesn’t mean she is a whore. You haven’t treated her the way she deserves while you were together; you pushed her away and hooked up with a girl, breaking up with Y/N for that other girl.” Ari says, his voice calm but stern, and you shiver slightly.

His words are causing some tears in your eyes. Is he thinking that it wasn’t good to have sex with you? Maybe he regrets having had sex with you. The tears slowly make their way over your cheeks, and you turn your face away.

“I broke up with her because I hooked up with a girl who let me fuck her like I want!”

“Noah! I thought I'd raised you well, not selfishly. A girl or a woman is not a toy, and sex is not only to please you. Go into your room. We can talk about it when you calm down, but before you're not, we are not going to talk about it. I don’t want you to shout or insult.” Ari says, shaking his head slightly.

“So you pick her over me? Why can’t she leave our house?”

“Because I say so!” Ari says, sternly.

Noah hums, annoyed, as he walks into his room. He slams the door, making you flinch and look with widened eyes at Ari, who immediately looks worried when he sees the tears on your cheeks. He walks to the couch, sitting down next to you and pulling you into his lap. His hands hold your hips tightly while he presses his soft lips on yours.

“What are those tears for?” He asks, bringing his hands to your cheeks, to wipe the tears with his thumbs away.

“I’m sorry. You had sex with me without really wanting it, didn't you?”

“No! I wouldn’t have had sex with you when I wouldn’t have wanted it just as much as you. I’m sorry it sounded like that. I love you, princess,” he mumbles, kissing you.

“I will sleep at my girl's house tonight. Don’t want to hear you fucking that bitch,” Noah says.

“I told you not to talk like that!” Ari says still in a calm voice, but you can hear the anger in his voice.

You slide your hands along his chest, drawing some small circles to calm him down. When Noah mumbles something and calls his girl to tell her, he comes over, and the brown-haired man sighs. Ari turns his face to you, tears glistening in his eyes, and you do the same as he did before and wipe them away with your thumbs. He smiles softly, leaning in to kiss you, his tongue sliding over your lips, and you part them softly.

“I love you, princess. So much, and I don’t regret that we had sex,” he mumbles against your lips.

“I love you too, Ari. Are we-“ you interrupt yourself, unsure what he is going to say when you ask him if you’re together.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Ari asks with a smirk, and you nod before pressing your lips against his once again.

“Yes!”

Ari laughs, pulling you even closer before he hands you the remote to let you decide which movie you want to watch next. His arms are wrapped around your waist, and he pulls you close while he kisses your neck, causing you to giggle and wiggle softly in his lap.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @capsbestgirl77 @princesscore-angel

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daceydeath · 6 days

Text

Her Knight

Pairing: Knight San x Princess Reader Word Count: 6.3k Genre: Fantasy AU, Romance, Smut Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Mentions of Alcohol, Explicit Activities

Another ball to attend another prince to meet but your Knight in shining armor is always there to save you.

Another god forsaken ball, with more god forsaken suitors that were either inbred or as exciting as drapery but your father insisted that you find a suitable match before your next name day celebration so that you would have time to plan an appropriate wedding for that of a future queen. Your only semblance of comfort was that this would be the last ball of the season and if no match was found you would be free for at least the winter months before the next ball season began so that you could spend another season mustering the courage to tell your father that you didn't want to marry a prince your heart belonged to someone else. Marriage to a man you barely knew was the last thing you wanted you had barely even seen your twentieth winter and you still had so much you wanted to do before your freedom was taken from you by an man, who would most likely spend his time demanding you remain demure and dull so that he could live out his fantasy of being a king to a mighty kingdom, regardless of the fact it would be your queendom not his. So you once again were being strapped into a corset so tight you would only be able to drink and not eat and a gown so heavy it would surely leave bruises on your hips from the weight.

Standing before the ornate mirror in your chambers your ladies in waiting scampered around collecting under skirts, ribbons, jewels and shoes to make the dressing process easier for you but all it ended up doing was giving you a headache as they argued whether the diamonds, pearls, gold looked better with your attire. As the princess royal you were expected to be dressed to a level of opulence that few could match dresses of the finest silks and velvets, covered in jewels and gold threads were common place for you and so the aristocrats and minor royals followed your lead having clothes tailored in whatever shades you wore. Normally you stuck to a pastel gowns that were covered in lightweight sheer layers that, while looking beautiful, allowed you to move a little more freely, tonight you had picked a black gown that was heavily embellished with gold, your corset whilst covered in not just gold but also pearls and small semi precious stones. It was excessive in every way and that was exactly what you wanted, two younger sons of the neighboring kingdom were set to be in attendance and you wanted very much to drive them away with your wasteful appearance so they would see being matched to you more of a burden than an asset.

"your highness?" Your handmaid interrupted your daydreaming to help you begin dressing "If you would be so kind as to hold the bed frame we can begin your lacings" she smiled meekly, being careful to speak respectfully.

"Of course Bessy" you smiled not caring if your ladies in waiting were listening, your handmaids were your friends and you wouldn't treat them poorly just because of their station in life. Moving to grasp the wood tightly Bessy and her assistance Clara pulled each lace viciously, knocking the air from your lungs each time until finally Bessy placed her knee against your back for one last tug to ensure you were properly cinched in, leaving you breathing as heavily as you could.

Your ladies in waiting sat you down to begin fussing with your hair and makeup, you could always style yourself but you found it easier to just sit and be preened within an inch of your life.

"Princess, I must tell you what I heard about Prince Heeseung!" Lady Lisbeth whispered excitedly pinning your hair up into an elegant updo "I heard he has rejected three other kingdoms invites to meet you tonight and that he has high hopes of securing your hand over his brother".

"I heard that his brother Prince Sunghoon has already found a paramour but is keeping her hidden so he is only playing the part of the competitive brother" Lady Hari interjected quickly before lowering her voice so that only you could hear her as she powdered your skin "But that would give you freedom if you allowed him to bring her with him".

"I wouldn't count on a match being made tonight though" Lady Sana smiled at you in the mirror giving you a sly wink "The knights of the realm have returned from your fathers conquest today so tonight will probably turn rowdy quite quickly with war stories and drunken antics".

"Anything to get me a few more months you couldn't help but mumble as Lady Sana moved to latch the Queen's Jewel around your throat, a large oval solitaire diamond that showed your rank and lineage, it hung heavily just below you collarbones shining brilliantly in the flickering light.

"Did they all return?" you asked almost indifferently hoping to look more concerned with their wellbeing for the kingdom's sake and not your own.

"Not all returned princess, but most have arrived back safely and triumphantly" Lady Hari answered, looking at you pleased with your appearance.

"Father must be very pleased then, I will make sure to congratulate both father and his loyal knights during the festivities then" you smiled with faux enthusiasm knowing that at least while congratulating the returned knights you would be free from your suitors advances, provided they were interested.

You bid you ladies farewell for the time being and waited until it was just you and your maids remaining within hearing range making sure your quarters were completely empty.

"Bessy how many did we lose?" you inquired trying to keep your voice even despite how nervous you were "and do you know who made it back safely?".

"Only two fell and five more were injured but made it back" Bessy smiled leaning in closer to you just to be safe from any prying ears "your favorite knights are all well though Ser San is expected to be rewarded for his bravery in rescuing Ser Yunho and Ser Mingi from enemy forces".

"Excellent, that's excellent" you breathed a sigh of relief "I have not got many friends Bessy, just you and the few maids that are purely my own and the knights who have to guard me. I don't want to lose any of you".

"You won't lose us your highness we will be with you until you decide otherwise" Bessy grinned, her and Clara, preparing your gown to finally be placed over all of your underskirts to complete your outfit and prepare you to go to the ballroom to greet your fathers guests.

Taking a final sip of wine you brushed the velvet of your skirt down one last time before opening the door to your quarters to find the guard who would take you to the ballroom. You prepared yourself for another night of dodging advances and hopefully leaving bad impressions on men who would marry you for a power play. Sansa and Hari stood at the top of the grand staircase waiting for you to make your entry. The minstrels were quietened and the beginning of your title announced before you stepped into view of the crowd of onlooking guests.

"May we present the Princess Royal, First of her Family and Heir to the Crown of Eastwood" he called loudly into the cavernous room as you felt all eyes fall on you and your attire. When you made the first landing the minstrels began to play and the buzz of the guests continuing their conversations filled the room once more leaving you free to make your way to your father and hopefully to begin the round of slow congratulations of his returned knights, who all looked resplendently dashing in their black and red military uniforms.

"My sweetest daughter" your father called to you clapping his hands loudly as you made your way through the crowd.

"Your only daughter father" you teased back grinning as he stretched his arms out to take your hands.

"You look particularly beautiful tonight my child" he smiled toothily before pulling you gently towards him to kiss your cheek.

"I heard your brave knights have returned, father and triumphantly at that" you beamed "you must be so pleased with their success I must congratulate them for honoring you".

"They did, and you should, they will be your knights one day and you should treat them with the respect their loyalty deserves." he nodded seriously as you tried your hardest to appear that you were focusing on his words with absolute concentration "You will make a fine ruler one day child, but first you must meet the Princes from Northwilds they have traveled far to attend this evening". You dutifully smiled and nodded letting your father escort you towards a group of men in deep blue and gold ensembles which you assumed to be military style uniforms from the Nothwilds kingdom. All ten of them bowed deeply when they noticed your father's and your presence.

"King Arin, we thank you for this generous invitation Eastwood is a most beautiful kingdom" A tall rather handsome man stepped forward taking your father's hand and bowing again to place his forehead against your father's ring which contained the royal seal.

"Prince Heeseung, I am most delighted you could make the trip, I realize that Northwilds is quite a journey from us. This is my daughter the Princess Royal" he introduced you, letting you curtsy despite you being of higher rank than either of the princes.

"We are most blessed to make your acquaintance" Prince Heeseung bowed, stretching out his hand to take yours and kiss the back of it softly. "This is my brother Prince Sunghoon" he gestured behind himself for his brother to step forward and greet your father and then yourself, also pressing a kiss to the back of your hand although so featherlight you almost didn't feel it.

"The pleasure is mine Prince Heeseung, Prince Sunghoon" you smiled demurely trying to remain as neutral as possible so you didn't garner too much interest from them.

"I will leave you to mingle, child, but you should remember to thank the knights before the evening is over" your father winked no doubt, noticing your not particularly keen interaction with the brothers.

"Of course father, I won't neglect my duties to the kingdom" you bowed your head as he stepped away no doubt looking for a drink. Sana made her way to your side instantly replacing your fathers place at your side, taking your hand she squeezed it once to let you know it was he as you continued to smile at the princes.

"Princess, you look exquisite tonight" Heeseung complimented softly as his brother stepped back to engage back into the conversation he was having with his entourage.

"You look quite dashing yourself Prince Heeseung" you smiled tightly not enjoying the awkwardness of first meetings "Tell me what is the Northwilds like? I have yet to travel that far yet, father doesn't let me travel too far from the kingdom" you explained hoping that he would bring up anything about his kingdom that you could find interesting and prompt some sort of discourse.

"I have heard it can snow there for months at a time, is that true?" Sana asked, hoping to help further the conversation.

"Please call me Heeseung, I am of lesser rank than you Princess" he smiled hopefully at you "Northwilds can be bitterly cold in winter. It is true it snows nearly all of winter but it is quite pleasant in the summer and early autumn. We have quite a few lakes and forests which makes for pleasant day trips" he continued.

"Oh I do like spending time near the water" Sana gushed beaming at him "Don't you your Highness?".

"Yes I do enjoy picnics by the waterfront and also horseback riding. Do you have good horses in Northwilds? I imagine they would be hardy creatures" you answered politely, noticing that Heeseung's eyes were firmly locked on Sana as she batted her eyelashes and giggled softly.

"Our horses are the most sturdy of all the kingdoms" Heeseung nodded, obviously enjoying the attention Sana was giving him.

"I should attend the greeting of our returned knights, Lady Sana, would you keep Prince Heeseung entertained until I return? and ensure both he and his brother are comfortable" you touched her shoulder gently in a gesture of thanks.

"Of course Princess, it would be my greatest honor" she gushed enthusiastically letting you make your exit without any protest from either of the princes.

Wandering towards the outer edge of the room you were sure you would find at least one knight trying to avoid an over eager dowager who wanted to thank him more than was warranted or wanted. Sure enough you found Ser Seonghwa desperately looking for a pillar to hide behind as an aristocrat made her way across the crowd towards him.

"Ser Seonghwa" You called, stepping into his line of vision and watching him visibly relax knowing you would give him an excuse to not speak to the older woman, who now looked quite put out that you had stolen the object of her desire.

"Princess Royal" he greeted bowing deeply to you.

"I had heard you had returned today and victorious" you grinned "I was hoping I could thank you all for honoring my father so valiantly".

"It is our honor honestly Princess" he smiled again, his handsome face lighting up "May I escort you to some of the other knights, your highness?"

"Yes please Ser Seonghwa, I would love to thank you all personally for your efforts" you continued taking his arm and allowing him to guide you towards the back of the ballroom where the large windows and open gilt doors spilt light out into the gardens. "I also thought I might be able to save you for a little while, Seonghwa" you whispered once you got closer to your destination.

"I cannot thank you enough," Seonghwa grinned. "It will help boost the others that you would wish to spend some time with us lowly knights rather than the Princes from Northwilds".

"Believe me you lot are much preferred company" you smirked as he led you onto the lit terrace, large glass containers filled with candles surrounding the entire area to keep it as well lit as possible despite it not being twilight yet.

"Look who I found in my travels" Seonghwa called to a cluster of men dressed in identical uniforms, they didn't even need to turn around for you to know exactly who each of them was having spent enough time milling around the training grounds in hoping one of them would take pity on you and give you some sword fighting lessons or teach you archery, which they eventually did. You had become friends over those years and you began to treat each other as equals rather than what your ranks demanded, even if it had to occur mainly in secret.

"If it's another kitchen girl I would say don't bother, you always strike out with the kitchen staff" Ser Hongjoong yelled cheekily before his eyes landed on you walking at Seonghwa's side. "Princess Royal, what are you doing out here?" they all instantly stood at attention facing you.

"At ease I'm alone" you laughed watching them all relax again "I wanted to see how you were I didn't know you were back until a few hours ago".

"We're mostly intact" Hongjoong admitted softly as you let go of your hold on Seonghwa's arm to touch Hongjoong's shoulder affectionately.

"What does mostly intact mean? I wanted you to come back whole" you pouted taking in each of their appearances "Yunho, Mingi you're hurt" you couldn’t help the way your voice raised an octave as you moved to look at them closer your large black gown swishing against all of their legs as you passed them. Your hands fluttering uselessly over Yunho's bandaged hand and arm which bulged under his dress coat and Mingi with obvious bruising to his face.

"War doesn't leave you intact Princess" Jongho sighed, his eyes meeting yours sadly.

"Sana told me that some of you fell. Who? Who did we lose?" you asked carefully knowing that such a tight knit group would be sensitive to the loss of a friend and comrade.

"Changbin and Seungmin are gone, Felix and Minho are pretty badly injured. Chan and a few of the others are staying with them around the clock in case the worse happens they can send for help faster" Wooyoung grimaced.

"Fuck" you breathed shakily lamenting the loss of good men “I’m so sorry”.

"Did you just say fuck?" Seonghwa blinked, unsure if he had heard you correctly.

"Yes? I swear all the time when you teach me how to fight, have you only just noticed?" you enquired confused.

"You say crap, quim womble and bollocks, once I heard you say shit but never fuck" Hongjoong roared laughing while Yeosang, San and Mingi all smirked.

"Well now you have heard me say fuck congratulations" you rolled your eyes quickly looking around San's broad shoulder to see if anyone was close enough to hear your profanity.

"It's just soldiers out here Princess" San smiled warmly looking down at you, you almost lost yourself in them but remembered yourself and decided to look at his dimple instead.

"Can't be too careful, I saved Seonghwa from a dowager but right now you are saving me from Prince Heeseung" you joked, nudging his chest with your shoulder.

“There is no way we can hide you though not in that dress at least" Mingi teased looking you up and down exaggeratedly.

"It is true you outshine every other woman here" Jongho whistled "must be looking to impress a prince tonight".

"More like hoping to horrify one" you smirked, poking your tongue out at him "I hope they will see me as frivolous and vapid so they don't want to stay". You were happy to admit your plan to them you knew they would never tell a soul.

“Why don’t you just tell your father you don’t want to marry?” Yunho shook his head clearly amused with your plan.

“Because unlike you Yunho I don’t get a lot of say in when I get married, father has decided it will be in the summer so I have that long to convince him to let me marry someone I actually like or he will pick for me”. You sighed trying to keep the sadness off of your face “I don’t really want to get stuck with some horrible man who just wants my throne”.

“Why haven’t you picked any of the others who have come then? Some of them were really quite nice or were they just not quite like the tales of knights who slay dragons from your silly books?” Wooyoung pressed as your cheeks began to flush pink at the implication of his question.

“You are never going to understand Wooyoung” you rolled your eyes before quickly putting more space between yourself and them as the sounds of Sana’s voice floated across the terrace. “Again brave knights I cannot express my gratitude for honoring my father” you smiled politely with your best formal voice back in place as they all tried not to snicker at your obvious change in demeanor.

“Princess Royal” Heeseung’s voice rang out loudly “I did wonder where you had gotten to, were you stolen away by these brutes?” he raised his eyebrow challengingly towards your friends and saviors.

“Of course not Prince Heeseung, these knights are my father’s best. They have just returned from their campaign. It is part of my duties to congratulate the brave men who honor my kingdom” your replied almost coldly, your eyes narrowing slightly at him.

“Still it is not proper that you be alone with men so far below your station” he continued, not really bothering to listen to your words making you frown.

“Your Highness, the prince may have had a little too much of your father’s favorite vintage” Sana stressed quickly, making you step back a fraction more from him “I thought some fresh air might help with that”.

“Perhaps it would” you smiled tightly, watching Sana carefully in case she needed help ridding herself from him “Where is prince Sunghoon?”.

“He has retired for the night, your Highness” Sana answered quickly, her voice quivering slightly.

“I see, I will accompany you then” you announced, making Prince Heesung grin at his perceived victory. “Ser San, Ser Jongho, would you join us please? There may be all sorts of wild beasts in the gardens at this time of night” you looked at them pleadingly.

“Of course your Royal Highness” San answered smoothly, bowing deeply as Jongho copied his actions, nodding.

“Thank you Sers I will feel much safer with you with us” you beamed noticing the twinkle of mischief in Jongho’s eyes and the laugh San was trying to hold in.

“I would be with you Princess Royal, you would need no further protection than that” Prince Heeseung started to protest, looking dissatisfied with your choice.

“I know Prince Heeseung but who would protect Lady Sana in the event of an attack surely you would be protecting me in that circumstance and Lady Sana is my closest confidant I would want her to be safe so why not bring a few more swords along” you explained flashing your best doe eyes at him.

“Of course you have thought this through far better than I have” he bowed in apology before San offered you his arm and Jongho took a torch from one of the wall sconces beside the very edge of he terrace to lead the way.

“Thank you Ser San” you graciously accepted, allowing him to lead you towards the cobblestone pathway that lay on the edge of the hedge maze. Prince Heeseung glowered as San but said nothing further as he fell into step behind you but you couldn’t help the silent giggle that passed your lips imagining him glaring at the wide expanse of San’s back as you walked. In the dimness that surrounded you now that dusk had properly fallen and the sun had long dropped behind the horizon you felt San’s fingers stroke small patterns into the back of your hand making butterflies dance in your belly. Prince Heeseung was muttering something to Sana that you couldn’t make out but when you turned your head to attempt to hear them better San squeezed your hand and met your eyes his endlessly deep brown eyes gesturing to Jongho in front of you before returning to your face as though he was studying you.

“Princess Royal” Jongho’s voice called back to you “Do you wish us to play another round of first to the middle? I know that it is one of your ladies in waiting’s favorite games to play when you have the time and it would be a good way to show Prince Heeseung the hedge maze” he asked in faux innocence making Sana agree enthusiastically and you nod.

“Oh yes please Ser Jongho, Sana and I both adore that game. Would you like to play Prince Heeseung? It is a very simple game but such fun” you turned to look at him excitedly “We all take turns entering the maze and the one that reaches the middle first wins a prize of their choosing”.

“Any prize they choose?” Heeseung asked with a sly smile on his face.

“Well obviously not anything I wouldn’t give you the kingdom or anything silly like that it is usually a token for example a piece of jewelry, a favor from me, a special dessert from the kitchens that sort of thing” you rationalized hoping that he would agree to play so that you could help Sana escape him for a little while.

“I would enjoy that,” he answered simply, looking between Sana and you.

“The Princess Royal shall go first, then it will be your turn and then mine” Sana volunteered, hoping that as long as she took a different start path to him it would be fine.

“Shall we start? Ser San, would you stay here and guard the entrance while we play?” you enquired watching San nod in silent agreement before you picked up your skirts slightly so they didn’t catch on the branches and made your way into the maze, you took the first right then second left which you knew led to a dead end then you waited quietly it didn’t take long before your heard heavy footsteps that passed by on the other side of the thick green wall that led deeper into the maze. You waited for a few moments prepared to count to twenty before you attempted to make your way back to the entrance hoping that San would be waiting for you when you heard more footsteps.

“Princess?” San whispered quietly rounding the corner to the deadend that you were waiting in “He’s long gone shall we head back?” his breathtaking smile lighting up his whole face.

“Yes,why not?” you stepped towards him “I’m so glad you came home San” you admitted taking his hand in yours “I would have been devastated if you had been lost”.

“It would take more than one campaign to stop me coming home to you Princess” you flushed quickly back tracking his words “I mean to your kingdom Princess, there is no other kingdom I would rather serve”. He met your eyes shyly.

“San…” you breathed, noticing the pretty color that now dusted his cheekbones. You were almost standing so close to him that if someone was to come across you it would have surely looked improper but you didnt care you were far too lost in the depths of his eyes that swam with such emotion that you could not bring yourself to look away.

“Princess, I…” San stumbled his words as he unconsciously pulled you slightly closer to him, your chest almost pressed against his and his hand still grasping yours firmly in the few moments of silence that followed. “Why haven’t you agreed to any of the suitors your father has invited to the kingdom?”.

“I already have someone I wish to be with, but he doesn’t know” you confessed without a shred of fear as the corners of his mouth twitched upwards “He’s someone my father trusts very much and once this ball season has ended I wanted to talk to him about it”. San’s other hand moved to grip your waist making your eyes widen slightly.

“Would the King allow you to be with this man?” he asked quietly, his voice deeper than it had been before making you feel a little light headed.

“I desperately hope so” you swallowed hard his hand letting go of yours leaving it to feel cool without the warmth of his palm enveloping yours, very slowly he moved so that it was now creeping up your arm leaving goosebumps wherever his calloused fingers brushed against you.

“May I?” he murmured his face close enough to yours that you could feel his breath fanning across your face, his hand finally stopping to cup your cheek.

“Please San” you mumbled closing your eyes the moment his lips brushed against yours tentatively pausing to allow you to stop him going further which gave you the opportunity to place your hand against his chest to feel his heart beating rapidly within his ribcage. You leaned in a little more, pressing your lips against his fully, finally feeling the warmth of his plush lips against yours, smiling against you he pulled you against his chest slowly sliding his lips against yours until you felt dizzy.

“I need to get you back to the castle my Princess” he breathed against you lips pecking them once more before stepping back from you the smirk on his face showing how pleased he was with your reciprocation of his actions.

“Yes, you should escort me back to my quarters” you agreed blinking a few times to shake the feeling that was lingering in your belly from his use of my princess. “I don’t want to return to the ballroom”.

“Your wish is my command” he teased taking your hand in his and leading you back out of the maze instead of returning the way you came San led you through the darker side of the gardens towards the entrance that the knights often used when they came and went from the castle leading your through empty passageways and hallways until you reached the wing your quarters were in, you entered letting San stop at your door to let the guard know he would be taking over and to go get some rest before he would be following you inside.

You sat at your vanity waiting, removing your jewelry and hair pins before wiping the makeup from your face. You had already slipped off your underskirts which made your dress considerably less dramatic but there was no way you would be able to get out of your corset without your maids help so you just watched your reflection until you heard your door close and the lock click shut.

“San?” you called watching his shadow appear in the room.

“I’m here my Princess” he smiled warmly.

“I…I…I don’t know where to start” you chewed on your lip softly, the trepidation you felt was obvious.

“Is the man you want me Princess?” he asked tenderly his voice sweet like honey making you feel warm as it surrounded you making you nod silently.

“I love you San, I always have” you admitted shyly, your face burning with blush.

“God’s I’ve dreamed you would say that to me one day” he groaned striding to you and pulling you into his arms his lips pressing against yours once more this time not hiding the emotions he felt for you, his tongue traced the seam of your lips encouraging you to let him deepen the kiss which your did his tongue slipping past your lips to slid against your own in a slow sensual dance. You couldn’t help the faint moan that escaped your throat as his hands moved to hold you as close to him as he could. When he finally broke away from you he pressed his forehead against yours as you panted for breath.

“I loved you from the first moment I came to this kingdom and I will love you until my last breath” he declared to you sincerely “If your father allows this I will worship you from this day forth if you let me”. You nodded as tears came to your eyes, you had never imagined that San would ever return your feeling he was a far more worldly man and could have any woman in the kingdom yet he had wanted to be yours just as desperately as you had wanted him. Your lips crashed back into him too lost in the joy of his love to think about anything else, hands buried in his hair to hold him close to you as his arms encircled you, picking you up and pressing you against the wall beside the vanity. Pressing himself fully against you.

You let your hands fall to his shoulders to hold him as he began kissing his way down your neck towards your chest, your corset giving him enough space to get well below your collarbone before finding your lips again his hands had bunched your skirt up around your hips allowing him to press against your core more easily making you wiggle against him and cause him to let a deep groan escape his throat.

“Easy Princess, I might not be able to stop if we go too far” San panted against your neck, mouthing at the junction of your shoulder as you shivered in his arms.

“I want to, please I think I’m on fire” you whined wrapping your legs tighter around his waist.

“Shit, my love, if I deflower you the king will kill me” he ground out between his clenched teeth as you rolled your hips experimentally against him.

“He would never harm the father of my child” you whimpered the feeling of his hardness grinding against your cotton covered core giving you the friction you desperately needed.

“Fuck don’t say things like that” growled his hands sliding between you and the wall to tug at your laces while he kissed you again making your need for him grow with each muffled sound that passed between your mouths. He flung the black top of your corsent to the side your under corset undone enough for him to get access to your breasts making you cry out as he took one of your hardened nipples between his kiss swollen lips teasing it and suckling at it until your head tipped back against the wall. Carefully lowering you to the fur rug on the floor he roughly tugged your undergarments away allowing you time to wiggle your corset off without undoing it completely leaving you bare to him.

“So beautiful” he whispered reverently his hand cupping your cheek again before slowly dragging it down your body making your skin erupt in a feeling of fire licking at your skin, he undid his uniform throwing the jacket and undershirt behind him before working on the laces of his pants allowing you to see him in all his glory, you couldn't help your fingers from reaching out and tracing the old scars that crossed his chest the silver skin standing out in the glow of the room his eyes boring into you watching your every expression as you took your time touching him before he slid his fingers from your hip to your center achingly slowly slipping them between your folds making your mouth fall open in surprise.

“San” you gasped, unsure of what he was doing.

“Let me pleasure you my love” he smiled reassuringly, moving to kiss you once more as one of his fingers began circling your bud causing you to begin mewling into his mouth “That’s it my love let me show you how much I love you”.

Subconsciously you spread your thighs apart wider to allow him to touch you more, another of his long fingers pressing against your entrance slightly before entering you, he sunk his digit deeper and deeper making your eyes roll back as you began to rock against his hand. Another finger began stretching your velvet walls, the feeling sending surges of pleasure through you as they massaged your walls.

“Saaan” you moaned the feeling building and building deep inside you like a coil waiting to snap.

“When it feels too good and you cannot hold it in, let go my love” he cooed, kissing your neck as he continued to pump his fingers inside of you.

“Oh San…agh..ngh” you cried out feeling the coil explode and white hot pleasure flood your veins.

“Good girl” San mumbled moving to slot himself between your thighs. “Tell me if this hurts you and I will stop”.

You nodded dazed from the floaty feeling that still filled your brain, only clearing when you felt a much larger stretch beginning as San cautiously entered you inch by inch until you were fully impaled on his cock the feeling almost painful as he stilled to let you adjust to the sensation of being completely full. Kissing you deeply he slowly dragged his cock almost completely out of you before thrusting back in his gentle pace to help you not feel anything but pain.

“Does it hurt my love?” he gasped against your lips, continuing to languidly move his hips.

“No feels good” you moaned quietly, no longer feeling unsure of the feeling of him moving inside you. He hissed in pleasure speeding up the rocking of his hips helping you to wrap one leg around him, each snap of his hips making the coil tighten again making you roll your hips to meet his thrust making him moan loudly and your walls flutter.

“Fuck just like that my love you feel like heaven” he grunted watching your face as your mouth dropped open again and your moans got louder “Good girl, let go when you want to alright, I want to feel you on my cock” he babbled making you start to see white again as fire spread through your veins again and you couldn’t he but scream as your second high hit you.

“San, San, San” you chanted before he rapidly pulled away from you his cock in his hand as he covered your tummy and breasts in thick white ropes of his release.

“Sorry My love let me clean you up" he panted, grabbing his undershirt from the floor and wiping you clean before collapsing beside you “Couldn’t risk letting go inside you at least not until your father lets me marry you”. You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you at the idea of him still needing to keep you safe even whilst deflowering you.

"Let me get you into bed so that you don’t catch a cold from being on the stone floor” he smiled bashfully, helping you to get into your bed still nude but at least warmer as he cleaned up the clothes that we strewn around the room and partially dressed himself.

“Are you leaving?” you whimpered panic rising in your throat.

“I will never leave you but I cannot stay here all night, your maids will find me” he smiled climbing onto the bed beside you we can’t have a scandal in the castle.

“Come with me tomorrow when I talk to my father?” you implored cuddling into his side, his fingers softly combing through your hair.

“Of course my love” He whispered kissing your head as your eyes fell closed

A/N: Thank you again for reading my darlings xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar @tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie , @krishastumblernow , @mrsseals16 , @fawnpeaks @leeknowinggg @uno7 @tanzen-ist-gold

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willownwisp · 5 months

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love like a love song

a love sung, is a love that is lived.

author's note: hi, i'm opening my requests now so feel free to send asks for me! just peek at my nuh-uh list in my pinned for the things i'm okay with and fandoms that i write. also i still suck at titles, and pardon if my format isn't set yet, and my writing style changes. i'm an indecisive air sign also pls befriend me </3 it's so lonely in tumbles w/o friends the fic isn't dialogue heavy as i want to focus on feelings. <3 cw: nsfw mdni pls, SOFT AND FLUFFY, reader is a hopeless romantic and leon is hopelessly in love, fem!reader x di!leon kennedy, p in v.

What once was a sneaky mission to ease your midnight munchies turns into embarrassment when Leon, ever the alert and seasoned agent, catches you leaving his side, and unfortunately thwarting your plans as he follows the sound of your soft footsteps towards the kitchen. Finding you and wrapping his arms around your waist, the height difference making you nuzzle up into his chest and you smile up at him. Sleepy blue eyes, looking at you like you were his life line, and he's never shy to admit that you are. So you look at him like he's the only man in the world, you hope your memory etches every detail of his face because you are so disgustingly in love with each other, sometimes words fall short, and you want to love him with all that your body can show. You never learned how to dance, skipping prom might have been the best idea you've ever struck in your high school mind occupied with thoughts of wanting to be different, coupled with your averseness to boys. Leon doesn't dance, never learned to, the only dance he knows is a tango with death most of his life. Perhaps dancing in the palms of top brass? You pick. Yet the two of you both find yourselves in the kitchen at midnight, you in one of his old shirts, faded with time, Leon in his sweats swaying with you to the beat of nothing but the thrumming in his chest as he cradles you close to him.

It's laughably corny how the moonlight illuminates your eyes, the argentine glow of that lone moon like a spotlight as it peeks through the opened kitchen window. No words are spoken when he sways your body along with his as you are caged in his arms, you face him, and he stops in his tracks. If you were a cartoon character, you'd have hearts for eyes by now. Tired blue eyes looking back at yours, and you swoon, because you know you're his life line, and you're proud to be his. Leon captures your lips in a sweet kiss, you sigh in his mouth before your hands reach up to cup his cheeks, the feeling of his stubble on your skin is one of your favorite sensations, second only to him kissing you. Leon kisses you like tomorrow doesn't exist for him, he savors the taste of your lips that murmur sweet nothings when you think he's asleep, yet only pretending to, just to hear you. You're the only tender thing in his life, so he worships the softness of your skin, the gentle youth you had in you, because that will never be him. Your soft sighs, pleasant moans, are adorable to him, especially when you try to reach him, standing on the tips of your toes because you're cute like that. "Leon? Lovey?" "Hm?" "I love you so much my heart almost always wants to explode." You confess to him, and he swears he could cry, but not now. Leon scoops you up in his arms and lays you down the kitchen table unceremoniously. He covers your body with his and he kisses you all over, while you're wide-eyed and sighing whenever his lips land on your skin, leaving a trail of heat. Calloused hands slowly pulling up his old shirt to expose your bare breasts as he rains kisses down on you. Worship and devotion, Leon kisses the valley between your breasts, thumbs massaging your nipples while his kisses trail south. His fingers hooked on your panties before he gently takes it off of you. His lips follow south, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs down to your calves. He grins at the glistening wetness on your pussy before he presses a chaste kiss on your clit, another one, and another one before lapping at your wetness like you're a goddess feeding him ambrosia. Because Leon is a starved man, but with your appearance in his life, his hankering for love, affection, company is quenched and more. So he loves you with his mouth until you cum on his tongue. Your fluids coating his stubble but he doesn't care. When his cock slips inside you, he doesn't move, not yet. He puts his weight on you, lacing his fingers with yours because he doesn't just have sex with you. He makes love, because you are the embodiment of love for him. You savor his fullness, and he delights in the way you clench around him. Sometimes he wonders if there is another way to be even closer to you, to be one with your very soul. His thrusts are slow, he doesn't focus on roughness. That was for when he's stressed, or when he has gotten home after an op and wants to feel you, to anchor himself in your warmth. You lazily wrap your legs around his waist and sigh, your hands bringing him down as you cup his cheeks to let his forehead rest on yours. Deep blue eyes that hold the deepest depths of his love for you, and you stare into that ocean and dive with him. When you cum, you cum together. Basking in that love with the beating of both your hearts and the syncing of both your breaths. After a moment of silence, Leon smiles and whispers: "I love you so much that my heart wants to explode."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon x you #leon x reader #leon scott kennedy

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erosia-rhodes · 6 months

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Speculation on Mizu’s heritage

Blue Eye Samurai on Netflix is one of the best things I’ve seen all year. As I’ve been rewatching it, I couldn’t help but speculate on Mizu’s heritage, and I wanted to share my theory so we can all laugh at how wrong I was in a few years. (I am notoriously bad at guessing plot twists. I was totally wrong about how Wandavision and Loki season 1 would end.)

Spoilers and speculation behind the jump.

Short version: Mizu’s mother was a white woman and her father was the Shogun. The Shogun’s wife, Lady Itoh, put the bounty on Mizu’s life because she was proof that the Shogun broke his own laws.

Who Would Want to Kill a Baby?

We know that there has been a bounty on Mizu’s head since she was a baby. There are only three reasons I can think of for putting a hit out on a child who’s just been born and couldn’t have personally wronged anyone yet:

1) To deny them an inheritance.

2) To eliminate proof of an affair.

3) To eliminate proof of a crime.

The woman that claims to be Mizu’s mother is Japanese, so Mizu assumes her father must be white. But once Fowler reveals that Mizu’s “mother” was actually her maid, it opens up the possibility that Mizu’s mother was white and her father was Japanese.

We know that someone is willing to a pay a lot of money to kill Mizu, but the maid also ran off with enough money to take care of Mizu for several years, so at least one person in this mess is wealthy. We also know that someone still wants Mizu dead when she's an adult because men come to kill her when her husband rats her out, so she’s still a threat to someone else’s interests at that time.

If the Shogun slept with a white woman and fathered a mix-raced child as a result, that would fulfill all three reasons to put a bounty on a baby. Killing her would remove any chance that a bastard might try to blackmail her way into an inheritance, it would remove proof that the Shogun had an affair, and most importantly, it would destroy evidence that he violated his own laws against Western influence by sleeping with a white woman.

But the True Culprit is…

But I don’t think the Shogun put the bounty on Mizu’s life. I think it was the Shogun’s wife, Lady Itoh, for several reasons:

1) Lady Itoh is willing to kill people who learn that her husband broke his own laws.

When the nobles are trying to escape the fire in the finale, Lady Itoh makes her sons lock the door behind them and sentence the other Lords to death because they witnessed the Shogun’s shame, the revelation that he broke his own laws by dealing with Fowler, a white man. She’s demonstrated that she’s willing to kill people to destroy proof of her husband’s violations, so she’d do the same to a mixed-race baby he fathered. It would also explain why Mizu’s maid never claimed the bounty herself; she would have been targeted for death too because she knew about the Shogun’s crime. She probably took whatever money was in the house when the killers came for Mizu, and went on the run as much to save her own life as Mizu's.

2) The woman’s a sadist.

Lady Itoh does everything she can to make Akemi’s life hell once she marries into the family. She saddles her with bitchy attendants and serves her disgusting food at the banquet, and finishes it off with the cooked remains of the bird Akemi tried to free. Then she sends her two more birds the next day, claiming they’re breakfast and lunch. I have no trouble believing this woman would put a hit on a baby!

3) She’s a hardliner against Western influence

After the fire, Lady Itoh orders her sons to destroy 2000 guns which they could have used in the future against their enemies because she’d so fiercely against Western influence. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one who came up with the law banning white people and talked her husband into enacting it. That would explain why the Shogun was willing to violate the law, because he didn’t completely believe in it and only enacted it to get his wife off his back.

It Fits a Common Theme of Revenge Stories

Another reason I think Lady Itoh is the ultimate villain is because it fits the common theme that revenge is futile. Revenge usually destroys the person seeking it just as much as anyone they go after. There is a famous quote from Confucius that says, "Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves." The implication is that the second one is for yourself.

If it turns out that Mizu has been going after the only four men in the country who couldn’t be her father, it would demonstrate how misguided revenge quests are. She’s spent her whole life pouring hatred into the wrong mission.

It would also be a painful twist to know that Mizu was in the same room with Lady Itoh in the finale, but she was focused on killing Fowler instead of realizing that her true enemy was fleeing out the back door with everyone else.

How It Will All Sort Out

I predict that Mizu will eventually learn the truth about her parentage and ultimately target Lady Itoh for death, not just for revenge, but so she can permanently remove the bounty on her head and live her life freely as a woman.

Akemi might end up assisting Mizu since Lady Itoh is also her enemy. Akemi will probably spend season two battling Lady Itoh for control of the household, and thus the country. If Akemi can put her husband in place as the Shogun, she could remove the bounty on Mizu's head.

If Taigan ends up working as a castle guard, this might put him in conflict with Mizu and Akemi if they target Lady Itoh since he would be honor bound to protect her.

It will be interesting to see how it all sorts out!

ETA: I misspelled Lady Itoh's name, sorry! (According to the subtitles it's Itoh, not Ito) I think I fixed every instance.

#blue eye samurai #netflix #blue eye samurai spoilers #mizu #taigen #akemi #mizu blue eye samurai #lady itoh

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earthtooz · 1 year

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BABE I HAD AN IDEA- Reo Mikage ANGST where he calls reader a gold digging whore in the middle of an argument, ultimately affirming all of her insecurities so he has to figure out a way to show that he didn't mean it and that he's sorry without using his disgustingly abundant wealth 💔 anyways ilysm hope you take care of yourself

NO YOU ARE LITERALLY DISGUSTING FOR THIS (affectionate) YOUR MIND >>> YOU ARE SOOOOO RIGHT. SHUT UP THIS WILL LITERALLY BE THE MOST SCRUMPTIOUS FIC EVER BECAUSE I AM LITERALLY ABOUT TO PUT MY WHOLE EARTHUSSY INTO INCORPORATING THIS IDEA SOMEWHERE !!! BUT FOR NOW, TAKE THIS SNIPPET I WHIPPED UP IN ONE SITTING.

girl feel free to come back into my inbox WHENEVER and giving me your juicy ideas bc holy shit i loved this.

CW: HURT/COMFORT - A LOT OF BOTH, SWEARING, UNEDITED - I WAS GOING THRU IT WHILST WRITING THIS DON'T LOOK AT ME!

IMAGINE THIS: it's been a rough night for both you and reo, he's been through a lot in the past weeks because his dad just had to during the middle of soccer season to lecture reo about how to run a big business. the transition process is beginning to happen since father mikage is about to retire and although your purple-haired boyfriend has been preparing for this his whole life, having gone to business school part-time and graduating with honours, there's still a little part of him that feels weary from all the responsibilities.

all this accumulated stress needs to have an outlet eventually, right? welp, you just happened to be there at the right (wrong) time. you were simply delivering a platter of apples to your boyfriend who had his head in his hands, hunched over an endless pile of paperwork that was beginning to irk him with each passing second. countless images of him shredding up the paper flowed into his mind, a fury that manifested into his reality, except the paper was you D,:

one thing evolved into another, reo's endless stream of venomous words didn't stop flowing out of him as he spat poison after poison, burning you with the intensity of it all.

"you're so overbearing, can't you see that i'm fine? unlike you i can handle myself when things get hard," he spits, eyeing you with fury in his eyes, one that makes you gulp thickly.

"reo-"

-but you wouldn't know the first thing about fighting for what you want right, you fucking gold-digger."

that stops you in your tracks, silences you effortlessly, causing you to let your hands drop limply back to your sides as you stare at your boyfriend blankly. you're sinking into an abyss of hurt and insecurity, it's getting harder to breathe because of the way your chest swells with anger.

reo only continues, not noticing the way you physically and emotionally drop. "even if you don't give me attention for one second of the day, i won't forget you exist, so stop being so clingy and unnecessary! my money isn't going anywhere either, you don't need to occupy majority of my day so leave me alone. go shop online or something."

that was it. was that all reo perceived you to be? a dent in his money, the expenses of his bank account?

"fine. goodbye," you simply mutter before slipping through his office door, out in the hallway.

"don't bother me whilst i'm in here," he says with finality, one last declaration before you shut the door behind you.

the luxurious walls of reo's penthouse look down at you mockingly, the spacious area caging you in, chanting 'gold-digger' over and over again until it's all you hear.

staying here feels wrong.

so, you grab your purse and leave, as quietly as possible. slipping down to the garage where your (second hand) car was parked, you start the engine up and begin reversing out of the parking lot.

you begin to reflect on your relationship with reo. you love him, you really do, you love him because he's reo, the man who was always capable of making you smile, laugh, and make you feel like you were on top of the world. his money and fame was an added bonus that you truly didn't care much about.

but ever since dating him, you've had your own insecurities that have been forced on you by other people. there were crowds calling you a 'gold digger' who was only with reo 'for the money', and although you were sure of yourself and your intentions, your armour breaks down sometimes.

what reo said tonight was the final jab that allowed it to fully disintegrate.

you had a stable job of your own and finances to your own name, money wasn't something you avidly chased, sure having a few zeroes in your bank account was nice but that was all you really needed. as long as you could buy necessities and spoil yourself, it was satisfactory, and you could provide that for yourself!

reo loved to spoil you, showering you in luxurious gifts that you never knew how to accept. it would take a great deal of convincing for you to take what he bought you, and when you promised him to stop buying them for you, he agreed before buying you more material stuff.

as you pull up to the parking lot of the apartment complex that you resided in, you get into the elevator with a heavy heart, pressing the button to your floor with a lot of emotions.

the ride is silent. everything is so silent.

your apartment is even more silent. it's unused, slightly barren. your furniture was still there, except some dust had gathered on the tables and cabinets from how long you've neglected it.

the only reason you were able to keep your apartment was because you had no expenses outflowing since reo took care of almost everything. anything you needed, he bought it, groceries, bills, whatever, were charged on his card. for a period of time, your bank account merely grew and never decreased.

and since you hadn't been here for a while, electricity and water bills never bothered you too much.

you flop onto your made bed with a sigh. it wasn't as soft as reo's but you didn't find it in you to care, you just needed some well-deserved shut eye.

well, 'shut eye' occurred for merely an hour before your phone started vibrating violently.

with a groan, you shove your face back into your pillows before blindly reaching for your phone.

you already knew who it would be without looking at the caller id. of course reo would be looking for you, noting your obvious absence in his penthouse.

"hello?" you mutter.

"y/n? where the hell are you?" comes reo's frantic voice from the other line. he sounds genuinely concerned.

"doesn't matter."

"i'm sorry for everything i said. please, come back."

"reo, i'm tired, i can't do this with you right now."

"i'm sorry, i'm really really sorry."

"i don't want to hear this right now."

"i love you."

you sigh and you're sure reo can hear it on his end. unsure of how to respond, you just hang up on him before throwing your phone away. normally, you would feel bad about the way you left him, but that wasn't the case this time. you just needed to sleep on this.

but, it was reo you were talking about, and the last thing he was going to let you do was sleep without him.

at 1:24am, there's a series of ferocious knocks on your door, followed by screams of your name.

oh my god it was so embarrassing, you literally shoot out of bed as soon as you register what was happening and dash for your door. you don't want to disturb your neighbours' sleep and let them hear that the pathetic grovelling of your boyfriend. the entire hallway could hear reo and his shouting.

you open the door, pull him in, and slam it shut behind you again, leaving the purple-haired to stare at you with a bewildered expression.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss.

he looks at you the same way a puppy does when its owner kicked it out of the house.

you should've known that merely telling reo 'i don't want to hear this right now' would not be enough to pacify his determination and the fact that you hung up on him only intensified his pettiness. the purple-haired always sought you out, pulling himself into your orbit like a magnet. where you went, reo followed, even if it was to the ends of the world.

he had the money to do whatever he wanted, you suppose.

"i wanted to make sure you were safe," he pouts. "i didn't know whether you'd be here or not."

"well, i'm safe, and i'm here. so."

"i can see that," he leans against the back of your couch. reo looks so out of place in your small apartment, awkwardly playing with his hands. "so... should we go to bed?"

the audacity. "what do you mean 'we'? go back home, reo, i'll see you some other time."

as you turn around to go back to your bedroom, reo's quick enough to round around you, blocking you from the hallway with his larger figure.

"but you are my home. please, i'm really sorry about what i said, i didn't mean it," he pleads, grabbing your face so you could look him square in the eye.

you step out of his grasp easily, shaking him off. if you were in your right mind, you would've seen the look of heartbreak on reo's face.

"sure, if you didn't mean it then you wouldn't have said it in the first place, mikage."

you swerve around him to reach your bedroom and he follows you the entire time, trailing behind you, desperate for an ounce of your attention.

"i know i fucked up, but i didn't mean to hurt you and project my frustrations like that onto you when you were just trying to care for me." you sit down on your bed with a sigh and reo takes a seat beside you. "you know i love you right? like, a lot."

that's right. if there's one thing about reo it's that he loves you to an endless degree.

"thank you for always caring for me. i know you don't do it because you're after my money or fame, but because you want to ensure that i'm healthy and not rotting in all that i have to do," his voice cracks. is he beginning to cry. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

you let a beat of silence pass by before dropping your walls. he was always going to smash through them no matter what.

"i've always felt insecure in our relationship," you confess, no louder than an exhale and if reo wasn't holding on to every action of yours, he wouldn't have heard you. "being called a gold digger became normal when i started dating you and i didn't really care. well- i tried not to care."

you continue. "i don't want to let these comments get to me, but then you said it and... i don't know, it just felt horrible."

you feel an arm sneak under your leg, and another hand come to your elbow, both of which simultaneously pull you to straddle reo's lap. you don't look him in the eye- something he frowns at.

"i love you for you. you're the best i'll ever have, reo, but sometimes i-"

"-please don't finish that sentence," he murmurs, breath fanning against your face.

you meet his gaze. he's crying freely. tears are running down his cheeks like streams and you instinctively bring use your thumbs to catch the drops. you hate it when he cries.

"i don't want it to be anyone else but you," confesses the purple-haired. "i hate it when we're separated, i can't stay away from you too long or i think i will go insane."

his statement causes you to giggle a little.

"you laugh but i'm telling the truth."

"i laugh because you make me happy."

his arms wound around your waist, keeping you pressed against him, leaving you with no room to escape or part from him. just what reo likes.

"i'm sorry for what i said," he says against your collarbone. "when i didn't see you in our home, i didn't know what to think. i got so scared for a second because i had no idea where you could've gone so i started spamming your number-"

"-yeah wait, was calling me 24 times necessary?"

"i was going to keep calling you until you picked up so it could've taken 24 or 1000 times or more. now let me speak." you nod wordlessly, smiling a little at how silly reo can be. "and when i realised that you went back to your apartment, i felt horrible that i drove you out."

he looks up at you with glossy eyes.

"you came here because you wanted to prove me wrong, right? because you bought all this by yourself and don't need me, right?"

"well, kind of, but i also didn't want to be around you so i came back here."

reo frowns before leaning in to press delicate kisses to your neck. "please don't leave me. i need you by my side," he inhales before whispering his next statement. "even if you don't need me."

a hand of yours go up to thread through his hair. "don't say that," you use your other hand to direct his face away from your neck, pressing a kiss against his puckered lips. "i absolutely adore you, my love. you're my favourite person ever."

he smiles before leaning in again, kissing you with more fervour and passion. you can feel another tear slide down his cheek.

"lets go to bed, reo," you say when you part and he simply nods, laying you on the side of the bed before laying beside you, arms naturally finding themselves around your waist as reo tugs you as humanely close as possible. "sorry if this mattress isn't as comfortable as your twelve grand one back home."

"i couldn't care less," he whispers whilst tracing patterns on your bare skin.

so long as it's you he's next to, reo doesn't have a lot to complain about.

#bro when i say i literally wrote this in one go #I WROTE THIS IN ONE GO #reo mikage x reader #reo x reader #mikage reo x reader #blue lock x reader

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13rurururi · 1 year

Text

Haganezuka Hotaru as Your Lover/Boyfriend (SFW & NSFW)

Pairing: Haganezuka x Fem!Reader

Warnings: size kink (hotaru is big, okay?), titty sucking, spanking, vaginal sex, teasing, dom!haganezuka, sub!reader

Requests are open!

SFW

He felt like the luckiest man alive when you agreed to have a romantic relationship with him.

Just imagine his stiff frame slowly relaxing itself due to relief and joy — his eyebrows would still be furrowed, yet his smile was undeniably the smile of a man in love.

Even after his rigid yet wholesome confession, he didn't want to make it seem like his attraction to you lessened, simply because he "won you over."

Haganezuka is a man of stubborn and fiery passion, dedicated to anything and anyone he loves. Each day with him makes you feel so warm, as if you're embraced by a powerful, secure love — his unwavering love for you.

Now, he's still our beloved hothead at the end of the day; please be patient with him whenever he becomes too engulfed in his craft as a swordsmith. Whenever it's time to call it a day, you await him outside his shack — Mitarashi Dango in hand — and greet him with a bright smile that melts all his tension and stress away.

He may seem like a gruff man who wouldn't ever show public affection, but ever since you'd started dating, he became more shameless in his display of affection.

He'd smile at you behind his Hyottoko mask (which you gradually learned to detect despite his face being hidden) and sling his strong, burly arm around your waist, nearly causing you to drop the dango.

No, he would not remove his arm around you. You two would be walking back to the village in such a position. Is it impractical and a little comical? Yes. Does it make you feel safe and warm? Absolutely, so you let him encase you in one arm as he eats a stick of dango with his free hand. What an endearing dork he is.

Even if some younger villagers snicker at Haganezuka being unashamedly enamored by you (especially Kotetsu, who keeps teasing Haganezuka whenever he blushes), he doesn't feel embarrassed enough to place a distance between you — you're his, after all, and he is yours; why be ashamed in letting the whole village know how wonderful you are for each other?

Okay, maybe you still need to calm him down by tickling his sides whenever he gets too heated by the relentless teasing (better call Kanamori for help if Hotaru gets his knives out).

However, for the most part, you just need to gently tug at his haori to deter his build-up of rage. Smile your ever-so-sweet smile, and Hotaru will have his whole attention on you, inevitably forgetting about the panicking Kotetsu running away from him.

Haganezuka has undeniable talent as a swordsmith, so he wanted to utilize his skill to make you a gift that was truly unique and memorable.

He actually began overthinking it a little too much, and he found himself going to Chief Tecchin for advice (his pride definitely faltered and shriveled a little, but you're more important).

He'd be pacing around the villager chief's headquarters, muttering to himself about the perfect gift for you. Tecchin would simply sigh and tell him,

"Hotaru, it's quite a sight to see you deep in love. For you to be this committed to someone, I am sure she'd adore whatever you can give her, as long as it shows her your heart."

Perhaps Hotaru took that a little too literally, for you woke up one day to a dainty box on your nightstand, wrapped roughly with slightly crumpled decorative paper. You opened the box in silent anticipation and gasped in wonder at your own reflection.

Inside the box was a well-polished, reflective metal carved into the shape of a heart. It emanated the pure skill of a seasoned swordsmith, judging by the undeniably quality. More importantly, it was the creation of a man who truly loves you, and you fought your tears from spilling when you read a small note placed at the bottom of the box:

"You have my heart, and my heart has you. Whenever you look at this pendant, remember that you're the one and only person who can make me feel so damn alive. — Hotaru"

At that point, you were so moved by his grand gesture that you threw yourself off your bedding and rushed to Haganezuka's work shack. You didn't mind that he didn't say such heartfelt words in person — he never was a talker — but you had a lot to say, and you wanted to show him the entirety of your feelings in person.

You barged into his working space, not caring if he was too engulfed by his duties. The pendant he gifted to you dangled gently across your chest, reflecting the mildly shocked disposition of Haganezuka, kneeling over a katana he was sharpening.

"What are you doing here?"

You knew he was flustered under his mask, attested by the slight waver in his gruff voice.

"I'm here to show you my heart, as well, Hotaru."

He raised himself from the ground and towered over your smaller figure,

"How so?"

NSFW

Haganezuka enjoys how much bigger he is compared to you; he has veiny, hard muscles all over his body, while you were simply so soft and tiny and cute.

Hotaru's body emitted an overwhelming warmth that seeped into your lightly shaking figure. He took bold yet cautious steps closer to your body, casting a looming shadow over you. Your instincts begged you to step away and exit the shack that was barely lit by the rising sun; however, you were here to return Hotaru's gesture of pure love — you forced your legs to steady themselves as you captured his masked gaze.

You were barely an inch away from each other, and you took the close proximity as permission to gently remove the mask that separated the union of your lips. His frazzled locks elegantly crashed against his face, as if they were ocean waves that engulfed the stony shores of a beach. His amber eyes were as warm as the soft glow of the peaking sun that outlined his bulky muscles under his thin clothing.

However, Hotaru's flustered face held more than romantic intent, and it was clear that he was hungering for an intimate moment with his lover.

Unable to hold himself back, he grabbed the back of your neck, urging you to tilt your head towards his own, initiating a languid, steamy kiss that made pulses of excitement flare between your legs. With his hand still firmly wrapped around your nape, he used his other arm to keep your torso against his, making you squirm at the sensation of his firm abdomen pressed onto yours.

Without giving you time to adjust to the position, Hotaru pressed his tongue into your mouth, shamelessly exploring your insides as you whimpered in frustration — this guy was such a tease, and the heat between your thighs only grew hotter and wetter.

He loves to manhandle you in all possible positions. You've seen how strong he is, right? The arduous training he underwent wasn't just for the sake of being a competent swordsmith; it was also for the sake of taking his beautiful lover as he pleases.

Sensing your impatience, Hotaru smirked against your face, ceasing his relentless attack on your puffy lips. He started to feel the growing strain on his pants; however, he is a disciplined and stubborn man — he'd have fun with his lovely girl first.

Sensing the mischief in his expression, you tried to scold him, "Hotaru, I swear to the heavens, just—" Your reprimand ended in a tiny yelp as Hotaru grabbed you on either sides of your waist and hoisted you across his broad shoulder.

"Hotaru! What are you doing!? Put me—Mmh!"

A muffled moan escaped you when Hotaru firmly slapped his large, calloused palm on your ass. He chuckled lowly and repeated the action, causing you to yelp louder than you deemed appropriate.

Oh, yes, Haganezuka Hotaru definitely loves your ass — plump, pliant, and soft — and he'd happily redden your cheeks all night, but his darling lover might only cry out in protest.

Still slung over his shoulder, you tried to glide your fingers across his sides, hoping to cease his unending teasing. Hotaru picked up on your plans, however, and steadily pressed your body against the wall of the hut, effortlessly carrying your weight. The sudden change of position led you to instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, lessening the gap between your aching pussy and his hardened cock.

Realizing that the two of you were still clad in thin garments, Hotaru hastily brought down the top of your yukata, setting free your breasts with red, erect nipples. He massaged one breast as he roughly bit and nipped at the other, and you moaned a sinful harmony that could even rival the peaceful ring of his favorite wind chimes. He did the same ministrations on your other bud before he set you down on the cold ground, making you look at him in hazy confusion and annoyance.

He is a very focused and meticulous lover. His concentration heightens when he wants to find the exact spots that make you squirm, cry, and scream his name until you're limp and fucked dumb.

"Hotaru, why'd you stop?" Your inquiry was left unanswered as he ripped off your yukata, leaving you vulnerable and bare against the cool morning air. "Hotaru!" Your discarded clothes were strewn to the side, and you felt rough palms under your thighs, hoisting you up against the cool wall once more.

This time, there wasn't any barrier that could separate him from you any longer. Holding you up with one arm, he guided his other hand towards the heat of your cunt, teasing you once more with touches that barely lingered. This made you whine his name over and over again, "Hotaru, please, please —"

He plunged in two of his thick, rough fingers into the heat of your pulsating pussy. Your mouth fell agape as you felt his thumb rub precisely at your puffy clit, tracing patterns that only a fine craftsman could decipher.

Your sinful caricature made Hotaru's cock painfully harden even more, but it'd always been his subconscious decision to please you before he could get his fill. There you were, back arching off the wall, arms dangling on his shoulders as he pumped his fingers in and out and in and out, resulting in your juices spilling into his palm and onto the floor. You yelped as you were met with your first orgasm, and Hotaru gripped you tightly as your legs shook in pure pleasure.

Haganezuka also loves, loves how you taste. This is a man who wouldn't mind spending the entire evening between your legs.

He watched your fucked-out expression with the same undivided concentration he showcases when he crafts swords. He tapped your tear-stained cheek to grab your attention, and once your half-lidded gaze met his, he licked his fingers stained by your cum and groaned in a low note. This only made your pussy squeeze at nothing but the anticipation of what was to come.

What he loves most, however, is being connected with you — sheathing and unsheathing himself inside you. Your warmth, your sound, and your visuals make him want to mark you everywhere.

Setting you down once again, he hastily removed his garmets, revealing to you the most gorgeous sight of his large, muscular body. His protruding muscles held veins that added an undeniable air of masculinity. Trailing your eyes down lower, you subconsciously closed your legs at the sight of his fully erect penis. Goodness, he was big. Despite the quiet hesitance at the back of your mind, you still wanted him inside you — to show him your heart.

Haganezuka chuckled at your cowering frame, licking his lips at the sight of your juices cascading down your plush legs. You looked so beautiful — your hair was disheveled, some strands stuck to your forehead; your skin so supple and sweet; lastly, you wore nothing but the metal pendant he gifted you that morning. You looked like a masterpiece that only he deserved to see.

He carried you, bridal style, to a small makeshift mattress he set on the corner of his workspace (he left it there for nights when he worked a little too hard, losing track of time). He set you down gently — an act so sweet and innocent, greatly contrasting the redness of the tip of his cock and the wetness of your pussy lips.

He caged you under his muscular arms, and his long, dark hair gently fell onto your face, making you smile in love and endearment. He smiled back and abruptly held the back of your knees, resting your legs on his shoulders.

He kissed you so gently, you wouldn't have guessed that he wanted to put the entirety of his thick cock inside you in one thrust.

You yelped and clawed at his biceps, trying your best to reprimand him — but no words would cohesively form, for his steady yet powerful thrusts made you lose all sense. Your shared noises would permeate the entire hut; it was a good thing that Haganezuka's workspace was hidden away deep into the forest, or everyone in the village would've had a front row seat to your lewd symphony.

Hotaru hands pinched and rubbed at your breasts, thighs, and nipped at your neck in alternating motions as he retained a steady pace in pounding your pussy. You could feel his tip hit your most sensitive spots, and his veiny dick provided a texture that sent your head above the clouds — oh, he was too good, too delicious.

You could only moan louder and limply grasp at his firm chest when you felt your second orgasm approaching. Haganezuka had to collect his willpower to prolong himself from coming before you — you were clenching and sucking him in so much, he heard himself growl your name. Not yet.

You felt like you were about to pass out when he snaked his thumb on your engorged clit; you clung onto your remaining senses by feeling the cold metal of your pendant bounce on your breasts, but your climax was inevitable. With a silent scream, you arched your back as much as you could, releasing your sweet cum all over Hotaru's twitching cock.

"I love you! Hotaru!" You managed to whisper in a high, airy tone your declaration of love — this was your heart, bare and ready to be offered to your dearest Hotaru.

At that point, Haganezuka felt his own climax come in bursts of unbelievable pleasure. Perhaps it was your genuine declaration of love or how you simply looked so serene and sexy under him, but his orgasm mimicked the excited sparks of metal being forged into the greatest swords. No, it's much better, he thought.

Panting lightly, he rested his forehead against yours, slowly pressing his heavy body onto your smaller one, making you moan in pleasure at the weight of his comforting presence.

In the end, Haganezuka Hotaru is a gentle lover, and if it's the best for you, he would gladly oblige.

Hotaru kissed you once again, languidly and softly on your plump lips, "I love you, too — so, so much."

He's definitely going to spend the rest of the day pampering you. For once — for you — his swordsmith duties could wait another day.

A/N: Your act of returning Hotaru's love wasn't the sexual deeds, but the trust and intimacy that you shared with one another in such a vulnerable moment.

Wow, this is my first attempt at actually concretizing my smut ideas. I hope you guys, well, enjoyed this! Hotaru is just too hot to not write about, though. If you have more prompts you want me to write about, my requests are still open!

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seiwas · 9 months

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₊˚⊹。4:59 a.m. | bakugo katsuki

wc: 682 summary: bakugo rises with the sun, and runs. contains: angst, swear word, there are cute moments at the start tho, lots of things are ambiguous and alluded to (you can make what you want out of it!), written with f!reader in mind but i don’t mention any pronouns, reader is shorter than him, aged up to when bakugo is pro. a/n: writing warm-up for bakugo! wanted to explore a side to him that touches on some deep issues (that are not explicitly stated, but hopefully hinted at enough!) and wanted to give a go at angst too!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

Bakugo rises with the sun, at the crack of dawn.

He slips out of bed quietly and lifts the arm you have draped over his stomach. You sleep on your side most nights, curled against him with your nose tucked into the crook of his neck, because he smells good. Or something.

He snorts at that, hardly believing it to be true; you both use the same body wash and shampoo.

There’s a small sliver of light—the early morning haze peeking through—draping over the bed, over the pillows and the comforter, highlighting the softest parts of you. It’s routine by now, that without fail, he always tucks you back in; he readjusts your pillow to fall right under your cheek and pulls the comforter back over you until you instinctively snuggle back into it.

His workout clothes are always laid out the night before: a vest with compression leggings and running shorts. So he dresses in it, puts on his training shoes by the door, and almost always, 30 minutes after waking up, goes out and runs.

The sun is barely shining yet, the sky a blend of purple and orange hues; the breeze is cool and Bakugo runs against it, passing by the still-closed bakery he knows he’ll visit later, after, on his way back home to you.

It feels good, getting the sweat out and the adrenaline in.

Step-after-step, breathing out, breathing in.

Running through a waking city, past buildings and parks, a river near the outskirts—there’s a mental clarity that comes with all of it.

To be sane.

For the people.

For the job.

His watch beeps—he just hit a new running pr.

On his way back, there’s an old lady by a fruit stall who always insists on giving fresh seasonal fruits, for being a handsome, young man protecting the peace. Or something.

(Whose peace?)

But he always buys two—of peaches, pears, bananas, anything, because that’s what you always do. One for him, one for you.

“We can’t just take it for free, Katsuki! We should buy something too…”

And when he gets back home, plastic bag full of fruits and your favorite bread on-hand, you greet him with his protein shake and his breakfast half-packed.

You smile, eyes lit up like the morning sun, and you tiptoe, hands reaching to clasp at the back of his neck as he tuts, “‘M sweaty,” but he’s grinning, and you don’t care.

So you kiss him, a small peck—the trademark of spending mornings with you.

He sits with you for a bit, eats the half-plated breakfast you made him as you ask him how his run went, and he grunts, answers with a few words, but that’s how you know it went well.

At the part he hates the most, by the door, half-packed breakfast in his hands, you say goodbye and kiss him again, to wipe the grump off his face. Or something.

It doesn’t work, but he pulls you in for a second one, deeper, with more longing, just so you know what he’s saying.

(I want to stay.)

Every morning, it’s like this.

Until it isn’t.

And when you’re gone, when you leave (when he makes you)—

He still runs.

At the crack of dawn, through a waking city—past the still-closed bakery he’ll visit later, for the bread he knows you love because it tastes like the day he met you. The breeze is cool when he goes past the park where you had your first date, and the sky is a blend of orange and blue by the river where you first said ‘i love you’.

He gets the sweat out and the adrenaline in, but there’s no fucking mental clarity in this.

Step-after-step, he runs, hoping for some way to reach you, for some semblance of you in all these places you’ve gone to.

And it’s all there, but it’s not you.

When he breathes in and breathes out, by the old lady at the fruit stall, she hands him her gift of seasonal fruits and he still buys two.

#bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo angst #bnha #katsu #shotorus.writes #writing this as an exercise !!#bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n

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thavron · 7 months

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So I think I've cracked this moment.

So this moment has bothered me. I've seen several people say this is Crowley breaking up with Aziraphale, but I think it has a different meaning. I think he's saying, "I understand."

Hear me out.

It was actually listening to the song Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy that caused me to have a little epiphany. I love how it's juxtaposed over Crowley rushing back to Aziraphale, indicating that he is the Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy, but there is more to it.

That song was released in 1976, which is a time when being gay or being queer of any kind was deeply frowned upon. Though laws in the UK banning same sex relationships had been lifted by this time, for consenting adults over the age of 21. Freddie explicitly coming out at this time was something that could have ended his career. Freddie danced with the media on this one, hinted but was never forthright and kept his romantic life largely under wraps. This is something that queer people did in general and had to do well into the 90s. They flirted in code, they romanced behind closed doors. They kept their love out of sight.

Much like our Ineffable Husbands.

Editing to add- that the reason this triggered something for me, is that despite the secrecy, Freddie Mercury got up on stage and sang a song about a man taking another man out on a date at the Ritz. Everyone knew. Just no one knew knew. And it wasn't enough to end his career. Much like our Ineffable Husbands. Everyone knows, including them. Just no one says a thing about it.

Which brings me back to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square.

This song is about one magical night. A couple meet, fall in love, feel the magic of their romance, and then as the sun comes up they go home. It is something like a dream that has to be let go with the harsh light of day. But there is hope, because sometimes they can hear the echo of the nightingale. A promise perhaps to meet again.

So I think it is widely assumed that there is more to the 1941 flashback. I tend to concur. I think we will see the origin of why this song is important to them. I suspect the song is about them. They have one magical night, where they are both brave and express their love for each other. But then the sun comes up and they realise that they have to go back to their lives. I think they will acknowledge that the incident with the zombies was a close call, and they need to cool off and stay away from each other. Slow down.

So 1967 is the first time they have seen each other since. They both know how they feel, they're just waiting for the right time. They shouldn't have met at all, except Aziraphale wants to give Crowley the holy water. I think that explains the awkwardness but also their softness toward each other. It's a meeting of lovers, but the time isn't right just yet. No nightingales are singing. That's what Aziraphale means by "You go too fast for me." Not yet, it's too soon. We're still under suspicion.

So the end of season one, the world is not over and our ineffable husbands are free. What do they do? They go for date at the Ritz. You can not tell me this is not a date. Sorry, don't believe you. "The Ritz is the most romantic hotel in the world." It's like their whole selling point. It's why it pops up in the lyrics of Berkley Square, and also in the lyrics of Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy. It's the place where magic happens. And for me, the playing of the song, and the reference from God herself, it's saying the time is right. They can finally be together again. This is their moment.

So Season Two. I've read reviews of season two where people liken it to fanfiction. Neil calls it is a bridge season. I think it's the dream. Not actually a dream, I don't think Neil is that unoriginal. But in the song they liken that one magical night to a dream. It's a fantasy that they get to live until the sun comes up. They get to live their dream for four years. They are together and they are in love but they are still living in secret. They still don't acknowledge it. They're still holding back. One of the themes in this series is timing is everything. Maggie and Nina's relationship doesn't work because timing. The magic trick worked the time it mattered. Timing is important, and the ineffable husbands are bad at it. They should have thrown themselves into this but they were too cautious and they missed their chance.

I think this conversation is when Crowley realises. Not that he is love with Aziraphale, that was established in 1941. But that everyone knows anyway. There is no reason to hide. No one cares that they're an item. Aziraphale has a similar epiphany after his chat with Shax. So they both decide to move the relationship along, but damn do they have bad timing.

Now I am as confused and heart broken as anyone about the final fifteen. And I am certain that there is something that we are not seeing, a trick that we've missed. There are six minutes unaccounted for. Neil says its a continuity error, but he's demon, he lies.

So here is what I think, and why this line "that's the point, no nightingales" is important. At some point during that conversation Crowley catches on. Whether they have a moment of stopped time, or the fact that Aziraphale is acting so utterly unhinged, there is something that happens that we don't see and it clues him in. He is hurt and angry yes, but he understands. What he is understanding is that the dawn came stealing up, and that the interlude is over. The nightingales stopped singing, and they have to go back to work. He gets it and that's how he lets Aziraphale know.

"You're an idiot, we could have been us." He doesn't like the plan, whatever it is. He thinks running would have been preferable, but he is resigned to it.

Then that kiss. One last goodbye just in case the world ends? Desperate longing and years of pent up frustration? I don't think the trick is here. I think this is misdirection. We're all looking at the kiss, we missed the coded message that came right before. I think "No nightingales" may also suggest that this isn't the kiss. The romantic kiss will come later, when the nightingales sing again. And they will, of that I'm certain now.

The song playing in the car, a message from Aziraphale or from the Bentley reminding him to have hope. Two things we know about Crowley. He is an optimist. He loves to rescue his angel. We also know that he is the trusted stooge with the steady hand. Aziraphale will perform the theatrics, he will do the rest. The fact that he waited and didn't just storm off like he did when he was rejected in series 1 tells Aziraphale that he is still here. He's still in this.

That's my interpretation anyway.

#good omens #good omens meta #yup i have way too much time on my hands #and i hate unhappy endings #and will live in denial about this

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loveinhawkins · 2 months

Note

for the one word ficlet prompt thing!!

I'd love to see something steddie with the word "sun". not picky about how you use it and im good with whatever season you'd like! 💕🌻💘☀️

pre season 3 crossing paths in high school, my beloved ☀️💕 ao3

There’s a blind spot just on the outskirts of the school grounds, before you get to the woods: a little hill that if you sit at just the right angle, back pressed up against the grass, no-one can see you. Eddie goes there whenever he needs some peace—like now, reading alone during lunch. He can still hear the distant laughter of students floating along on the breeze, but it’s far enough away that it doesn’t intrude as he reads.

The air smells like summer’s approaching. His fingers skim through drying blades of grass; they feel almost as delicate as pressed flowers.

Despite the calm solitude, the words aren’t going in—and he knows that with the right teacher, he kinda gets Tennessee Williams, but Mr Hauser’s gone, and he was the only one who allowed Eddie free reign to go wild when reading aloud in class, every other sub since then would say he was being disruptive and… okay, that was true some of the time, but most of the time it was because it helped, damn it, gave him at least some hope of scraping a pass—

A shadow falls across Eddie’s page—it doesn’t loom in the way a teacher’s stance would, but he still jumps at the suddenness of it.

“Jesus!”

Eddie tips his head back against the hill, cranes his neck to look upside down. Squints against the sun.

It’s Steve Harrington, and he must have gym straight after lunch because he’s already changed into a T-shirt and shorts, which is an odd decision in Eddie’s opinion as a perpetual gym-ditcher, but whatever, it’s a free country… and it’s not exactly like the guy’s an eyesore.

”You trying to give me a heart attack, Harrington?”

“No,” Steve says shortly; he looks a mixture of embarrassed and… annoyed? Which would be a new personal best for Eddie, considering he’s done nothing to piss him off save for just sitting on the ground. “I didn’t know you were here, dude.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the idea,” Eddie waves his hands in explanation, “welcome to my hiding spot.”

Steve scoffs. “Not much of a hiding spot if I found it.”

It comes out a little petty, sure, but nothing major, Eddie thinks; it’s not like Steve’s picking a fight.

“What’s up with you, man?” he asks lightly.

It’s something he’s pondered more than once over the last couple of years, in between the stress of failed tests and the same platitudes in school reports: Eddie must apply himself next year; Eddie must try harder; Eddie must…

In the background of it all was the enigma that was Steve Harrington. Eddie had found that you couldn’t not look at him, his eyes drawn to even the most fleeting impressions: walking past the lockers or driving in and out of the school parking lot. Seasons changed—whole damn years changed—and still the question remained: just what on earth is up with Steve Harrington these days?

At least now, asking the question is profoundly less upsetting than it had been last fall, when Eddie silently tracked the progression of bruises healing across Steve’s face—along with Billy Hargrove’s intimidating stare.

“Nothing, I’m just…” Steve sighs. “Didn’t wanna spend forever in the cafeteria when it’s so nice out, but… Honestly?”

“Nah, I’d prefer you lie to me,” Eddie says deadpan, and Steve snorts before sighing again; Eddie almost asks him to read some Tennessee Williams out loud, ‘cause he’s surprisingly got the dramatics for it.

Steve flops down onto the grass, lies right on his back with no concern for his precious hair. “I’m so damn bored, Munson.”

“Gosh, my heart bleeds,” Eddie says. “Puh-lease tell me how hard it is to have passed everything and literally not have a care in the world?”

Steve blinks up at him, frowning. “Shit, are you repeating again?”

He sounds earnest, and there’s something in his phrasing that means Eddie isn’t nearly as defensive as normal—maybe because it’s about repeating again rather than failing.

Eddie lifts up the script in demonstration. “Not exactly reading this for fun, dude.”

“God, I’d take that over gym right now.”

“Okay, you’re bullshitting me. You love gym, Harrington. You, like,” Eddie gestures at Steve’s get-up, “actually make an effort and everything.”

“Not when the semester’s almost over, man. We don’t even have a cover right now, so we’re just left to, like, do whatever, who gives a shit. I’m bored outta my mind.”

“Tragic,” Eddie says—gym without a teacher sounds like a dream; he’d literally just leave. “I’m weeping for you.”

Steve rolls his eyes. But it doesn’t feel like a dismissal, even when he doesn’t reply and just lies back in the grass with another sigh.

So… Eddie mulls it over. What the hell, Steve’s graduating; it’s not like they’ll cross paths after that.

“Bet you can’t run to the woods and back before the bell rings.”

Steve sits up, a gleam of interest in his eyes. He checks his watch. “The bell’s gonna ring in, like, two minutes, Munson.”

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were so bored. Well, if you’re not up to the challenge—”

“No, no,” Steve says, standing up. “I didn’t say that.” He actually gets into position like he’s on the running track, looks at Eddie expectantly.

Eddie covers his bemusement with theatrics; he mimes firing a starting pistol.

And… shit, Steve Harrington can run.

Objectively, it’s not like it’s a surprise; he wasn’t exactly bringing up the rear in the swim and basketball teams. Still, it’s one thing knowing it, another to see it up close like this.

Eddie puts his book back in his bag, watching as Steve disappears from view. Reluctantly, he edges away from the hill—if he doesn’t, he’ll risk being late for class again by the time he walks over, and… He thinks of ‘86, what has to be his third time lucky. Start as you mean to go on, and all that.

Eddie turns back to look. Sure enough, Steve comes sprinting out of the woods, racing up to the hill right as the bell rings.

“Still counts, Munson!” he calls, a little breathless.

And Eddie knows that he’s not really solved the mystery of what’s going on with Steve Harrington.

What he does know is that Steve is smiling as he raises a fist in victory, the sun turning his hair golden for just a moment; he looks utterly free—as he should be, graduation’s right around the corner.

And Eddie can’t begrudge him that.

”Inspirational,” he shouts, cupping a hand around his mouth as he walks backwards. “I’ll get John Hughes on the phone, stat.”

The bell stops. Eddie turns around before he can trip on his own feet.

He’s getting closer to the school building now, can feel the change in the air, cliques unwillingly disbanding as teachers move them on.

But as he heads to class, Eddie faintly hears evidence that the moment hasn’t been broken entirely: Steve Harrington’s laughter, drifting across on the wind.

#i’m so obsessed with the last days of school as a setting #pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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blossom-hwa · 10 days

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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. — this takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun story, if you'll have me :) feel free to check that out as well! When your father calls you home from the continent to join the London season, for the first time in your life, you nearly throw a fit. You are not just the daughter of a viscount—you’ve made a name for yourself in England and abroad with your prodigious talent at the piano, having since childhood performed for royal courts far and wide. You have traveled far and beyond most other ladies of your rank, and to have your career halted all for the sake of marriage to a man who will likely force you to quit your craft is unthinkable. But all your life you have lived without raising a hand to your father, and so when the letter comes, you return home for the season, hoping and praying to make it through without stirring the waters. Enter Taehyun Kang, Earl of Addiston—recently titled, in search of a wife, and as tired of the season already as you are. During a chance meeting at the season’s third ball you grow to know each other, and as time passes you grow to like each other, a mutual respect forming when you learn the depths of one another’s passions in the arts. In Taehyun you find a respite from the men who would clip your wings for the sake of finding a perfect wife. In you Taehyun finds a kindred spirit who would respect him for himself, and not the lands in his name. Together you navigate the grueling social activities of the London matchmaking project as acquaintances, then as friends, and maybe, just maybe— As lovers, too. Part 1 >> Part 2

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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 :)

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