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munsonsmixtapes · 3 months

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Paint Me

Benedict Bridgerton x inexperienced!american!fem!reader

summary: After a brutal critique of a newly displayed art piece in a museum, newly debuted reader finds herself apologizing to the artist who heard her. After multiple meetings, the time they spend together becomes precious to her. One slip up causes Benedict Bridgerton, a know “Rake” amongst the ton, to be left with the decision to marry the young woman or a duel.

part two part three part four part five part six part seven

cw: suggestive language

word count: 4k

January 28th, 1817

Your parents sat across from you in the carriage, both sets of eyes on you as you watched all of the scenery pass by in the window. You didn’t want to leave your old life behind, but you felt like you had no choice since you just wanted to please your parents. That was your biggest problem; wanting to please everyone around you so badly that you’d sacrifice your own happiness.

You were set to be debuted the night you had arrived and were a nervous wreck. You had no interest in being married off to a perfect stranger, but you felt like you didn’t have any other choice. Maybe if you played your cards right, though, you’d be Queen’s Charlotte’s diamond of the season.

But that wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want everyone’s eyes on you and honestly couldn’t bear to be the talk of the town or worse, a victim of Lady Whistledown’s latest gossip. You wanted absolutely no part in that.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” your mother told you, almost in a mocking tone. She never cared for how reserved you were and was always trying her best to push you into friendships with people you wouldn’t have touched with a ten foot pole.

“Oh, leave her alone, Vivian,” your father nudged her. “She’s allowed to be nervous, this is her debut.”

“Well, I’m not nervous,” your sister, Lilith piped up. Of course she wasn’t. Because Lilith was perfect. The perfect eldest child that your parents seemed to favor over you no matter how close you were to your father.

You didn’t like the feeling, but you envied your sister. She was very outgoing and not to mention beautiful, two things you didn’t think you were even close to being. At least, the outgoing part. You were more reserved and had been laughed at for it your whole life.

I’m sorry, could you speak up? No one can hear you.

You’re not very talkative, are you?

Why don’t you say something?

Those words always lived in your head, and no matter how hard you tried, you always found yourself either speaking too loudly about things you were passionate about or not speaking loud enough. That would have meant that you had to take authority and you knew absolutely nothing about that.

The carriage rolled to a stop and you turned away from the window, rubbing your hands together to remove the sweat from them. You then reached up and subconsciously fiddled with the diamond necklace that your father gave you before you left America. You always wore it and it was something you messed with when you were particular nervous or needed something to stimulate your mind.

The carriage door opened and you were the first to step out, your eyes widening as they took in your new home. It was far bigger than the one you lived in back home and you wondered why that much space was needed for your family of four. The place could have easily fit many families of your size and still have room for more.

You headed inside and briefly took in the main level before making a beeline for the upstairs, desperate to see your new room since that was definitely going to be where you spent most of your time. You had a lot of new books to read and were just looking forward to it having to share with Lilith anymore.

You claimed the first room you walked into which had to be about three times the size of your old one. It was already set up with your new furniture that looked much better than your old stuff. Maybe living there wouldn’t have been so bad.

You collapsed onto your bed and felt your eyes get heavy from the very long journey you had just taken, finding yourself quickly falling asleep right there and not even fighting it. It was what you had deserved for sitting through all of your mother and sister’s comments without a single complaint.

A knock on your door woke you from your nap and you opened your eyes to see your mother standing in the doorway. She had a stern look on her face and you wondered what you had done to upset her now. It seemed like you were always doing that despite your need to please her. She never agreed with the way you spoke or the words you liked to use. She just didn’t like that you were smarter than her.

“Y/n, what are you doing in bed, you’re supposed to be getting ready.” Her voice was more angry than it should have been and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her dramatics. You had plenty of time to get ready since the ball didn’t start for a few hours.

Just then your apparently new lady’s maid hurried into the room with your dress for the evening which you hadn’t even seen yet since your mother had picked it out, but you knew that you were going to hate it since you never saw eye to eye on anything, especially clothing. Your mother stepped into the room and closed to door with every intention of making sure that you actually wore the dress since you always seemed to want to change last minute.

The dress was a shade of green that wasn’t flattering on you in the slightest. Your mother fluffed up the sleeves as she looked at you in the mirror. If you were honest, you hadn’t even wanted to go to the ball, but you felt like you had to. You just wanted to make her happy even if you had to sacrifice your own happiness to do it. She had been so excited for you, but you knew that was just because she was interested in finally getting rid of you for good.

“Well, don’t you look absolutely beautiful,” your father complimented as you descended the stairs. He looked at your mother and gave her a slight glare when she hadn’t said anything to you. Your mother honestly didn’t like the way you looked at all and didn’t feel like she should have lied to you, so she just directed her attention to Lilith like always.

“Y/n, doesn’t your sister look beautiful?” You felt your heart break at hearing those words. How could she say that? Your sister did look beautiful but didn’t you as well? Why were you always second to her? Why did it always feel like it wouldn’t have mattered if you were there or not? Sure, your father cared for you like a parent should have, but it almost felt like he was only behaving that way because he felt bad for you. At least, that was what you were telling yourself.

“You do look beautiful, Lilith,” you practically whispered, staring down at the floor. You found it hard to maintain eye contact so you always settled for something else, whether it was the floor or the wall. Just as long as it wasn’t other people’s eyes, it was safe.

“Thank you, y/n,” she nodded. “I suppose you look beautiful too.” Her tone sounded annoyed, almost as if she was forcing herself to say the words. You almost wished she had said nothing, but Lilith always found an excuse to speak, no matter what came out of her mouth. You were convinced that she just loved hearing her own voice.

You said nothing and turned on your heel, keeping your eyes on your feet at you did so. You wiped a tear that had fallen down your cheek and headed towards the carriage that had been waiting for you and your family. You got inside and moved closer to the window, covering your face with your hand so no one could see you crying. Your mother and Lilith would have just told you that you were being dramatic and your father would baby you and you weren’t in the mood for either of those things. You just wanted to get the night over with so you could go to your room and paint. That was the only way you were able to deal with your feelings. You surely couldn’t take them out on your family, so you had to deal with them in healthy way and painting was the only thing that seemed to relax you.

The carriage door opened once again and your father slipped inside, taking the seat next to you. He silently wrapped his arm around you and you rested your head on his shoulder, suddenly having a flashback to crying into that very spot when your mother had said something you hadn’t particularly liked. He was always there when you needed him, the only person in that damn family that even bothered to understand you. He rubbed up and down your arm and you sniffled, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said. That was all he always said when the cycle would repeat itself and even though it was nice that he was making an effort to make you feel better, you didn’t appreciate that he never stood up to your mother or your sister even. He didn’t defend them, but he definitely didn’t put a stop to their behavior either. Because to his core, your father was nothing but a coward. He’d rather just comfort you in secret instead of actually doing something useful. His words were becoming pointless and you were beginning to not believe them anymore. After all, they were only said to stop your tears, not because they had any actual meaning.

“It’s okay,” you nodded, leaning up to look up at him. The look on his face seemed apologetic at first glance, but you knew it was nothing but fake. Just a way to stop the waterworks so you could all be a “happy” family again.

Your mother and Lilith sat on the other side of the carriage and it rolled onto the path to take you all to the ball. The silence between the four of you was deafening and despite you looking out the window, you could feel your mother’s eyes on you. You could tell she was glaring at you, but you honestly couldn’t have cared less. She could be mad at you all she wanted, it was always going to be because you were just being yourself and not an exact replica of her like your sister was. You had tried so hard to be like her, but eventually you got tired of it and your mother couldn’t stand having a daughter that liked things that she didn’t. God forbid you had your own interests.

You swore that she was going to make a snide comment, but she kept quiet. You kind of preferred her speaking over the quiet, because at least then, you’d have something to focus on so all of your thoughts in your brain would mute a little bit. Anytime there was any silence or when you were alone, all of your anxieties would amplify to the point where you could barely think. You always needed some sort of distraction to keep you sane.

The four of you planted your fakest smiles onto your faces and entered the ball that Lady Bridgerton happened to be hosting, trying your best to look like you hadn’t just had the most tense carriage ride in history. That was all going to be left behind and you all had to act like you actually loved each other. Easier said than done.

You slowly distanced yourself from your family before placing yourself by the nearest wall. You definitely weren’t going to speak to any suitors and most definitely weren’t going to dance with any of them either. That was all Lilith. You were sure she was going to end up engaged by the end of the night and you’d be alone just like always, but that was how you liked it.

“That is a lovely dress.” You turned to your left to see the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on. She had lovely brown skin and her pink dress complimented it beautifully. Her hair was put up in an elegant updo and you hoped that someday, you’d look half as pretty as she did. You looked around to see who she was speaking to and realized that you were the only one around.

“My apologies,” she smiled. “Viscountess Bridgerton, but you can call me Kate. And who might you be?” Bridgerton? So that must have been Anthony’s wife that Francesca had told you about in her letters when the two had tied the knot a few years ago. She was even more beautiful than she was described. You turned back to the woman in front of you and remembered that she had asked you a question. What was it? Oh right, your name. What was that again?

“I’m y/n,” you told her as your eyes moved to decorations that were on the wall a few feet behind her. Kate nodded, a smile on her face, thinking that you were nothing but adorable and found that you reminded her of her little sister, Edwina. And because of that, she felt the need to help you out. To protect you. She didn’t know you, but she wanted to help you find the perfect match.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Miss y/n,” she smiled wide and for whatever reason, it made you feel better. For once, talking to someone didn’t feel like a chore and it seemed like Kate was genuinely interested in having a conversation with you and not doing it just because she had to. She could see the anxiety and nervousness in your eyes and just wanted to help you out, to let you know that you had a friend. Someone who would make you feel less alone.

“You too,” you nodded and she gestured to the refreshment table with her hand.

“Would you like to get a drink?” All you could do was nod and she led you in that direction, greeting people on her way as she did so. Kate carried herself with such confidence that you were mesmerized by. You had confidence, but not in that way. You could have never just walked up to a stranger like she did and introduced yourself. That was a terrifying thought to you and the way she did it without a second thought was fascinating.

Kate grabbed a cup filled with lemonade and handed it to you before taking one for herself. You took a sip then looked around the room, your eyes catching on a familiar face. The gentleman made his way over to you, a wide smile on his face as he engulfed you in a hug.

“I see you’ve met the troublemaker,” Anthony winked at you and you felt yourself blush. It was a nickname the boys had created for you since you had been anything but a troublemaker. They just always liked to tease you as if they were your own brothers.

“Oh, have I?” Kate let out a laugh as Anthony draped an arm over her shoulder. They seemed to be just as in love as Francesca had said.

“It’s what we used to call her when she was little because she’s the exact opposite of trouble.” He was laughing a little too hard and your cheeks were flushing in embarrassment. Kate nudged Anthony once she caught sight of the embarrassed look in your face.

Looking at Anthony, all of the memories you had of him came flooding back. He was always there for you when you got hurt, acting as an honorary big brother when something went wrong. You honestly missed him and hated that you had been from him and his family for so long.

Benedict stood by the entrance of the building with his mother, Violet. He honestly had no interest in being there, but he couldn’t say no to his mother. Other than Gregory, he was the only Bridgerton son who hadn’t been married and even though he had expressed no interest in it, he still wanted to keep his mother happy by attending the balls.

If he had it his way, he’d be at the studio with one of the women he had been sleeping with or working on his piece for the gallery that was supposed to happen in a few weeks. He had barely even started it and probably would have been at least halfway through it if he hadn’t agreed to come to the ball that night That was his priority at the moment, not finding a wife like his mother had so desperately wanted him to do.

He locked eyes on you talking with Kate and Anthony and figured that you must have been one of the new debutants since he hadn’t seen you before. At least, he didn’t think he had. He would have remembered a beautiful woman like you. His brother seemed to be talking you like you were old friends so he wondered just who you were.

“Why don’t you ask her to dance?” Violet leaned over to him as she noticed Benedict watching you. Had he been staring? He swore he had only just glanced.

“Mother-“ He agreed to showing up, but he never said anything about dancing. He just liked to observe. And he wanted to observe you.

“Benedict.” Her voice was filled with warning and even at his age, he was still kind of afraid to disappoint her, even though he had done that enough already. He couldn’t do it again.

“Alright,” he sighed. “I’ll dance with her.” He turned to his smiling mother then made his way towards you, putting on his signature smile that always made women fall to his feet. He absolutely loved seeing the way they would do whatever he asked as soon as he gave them a flash of his teeth. He wondered if you would do the same.

The conversation halted as Benedict stood behind you. You turned around and your eyes widened as you caught sight of the man. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You wondered what he wanted from you and began to fiddle with your necklace again, assuming that he was possibly going to ask you to dance. You were going to say no, of course. You couldn’t dance with anyone. You would just look weird and awkward and be too aware of your movements. You honestly weren’t even sure if you knew the correct steps.

“Benedict,” Anthony greeted his brother. That was Benedict? You supposed it made sense since you hadn’t seen him in eight years. He had gotten so much taller than you now, the top of your head coming to his chin. And he was attractive. Much more so than you remembered.

“Anthony, Kate,” he nodded in their direction then averted his gaze to you, a smirk kicking up at the corner of his lips. Anthony knew exactly what his brother was doing. He could see the flirty look in his eyes and was going to shut whatever was going on down as soon as possible.

He had seen to many women hurt by Benedict and he wasn’t going to let you be one of them. Anthony didn’t know you, but what he did know was that you were definitely out of his league. You were sweet and kind and Benedict was nothing but a jackass. Anthony wasn’t going to let your heart get broken by his stupid brother who never seemed to be able to keep his dick in his pants.

“And you are?” He didn’t remember you? You supposed that eight years was enough time to forget about someone, but you honestly thought he would have remembered you just like Anthony had. And you had spent much more time with Benedict when you were children so you didn’t know why the memories of your weren’t clicking in his brain.

“Benedict, this is y/n,” Anthony reminded him as if it was something that Benedict should have known, but that name was not ringing any bells whatsoever.

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss y/n,” he greeted, his tone more professional but still a little flirty. “Would you like to dance?” He held his hand out to you and you stared at it, knowing that if you didn’t, your mother would find out and give you a lecture, but if you did, all of three steps would mix together in your head and you’d fall flat on the floor and everyone would laugh at you.

You nodded and hesitantly put your hand in his, letting him lead you out onto the floor, looking back to Kate and Anthony, hoping that they would save you, but they just gave you warm smiles as you got further and further away from him.

Benedict stopped to the far left of the floor and rested a hand on your shoulder blade while the other took your hand. You turned your head to the side, looking around the room and he looked down at you, realizing that you had no idea what you were doing and decided that he was going to have to teach you how to do the dance.

He took your other hand and placed it on his shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile even though you weren’t paying attention. You were still looking around the room, nervousness obvious in your eyes. Weren’t you just a shy, little thing. He could have taught you so many things, but tonight, he’d stick with the waltz.

He leaned down so his lips were right by your ear and your breath hitched at his closeness. His hot breath on your skin as he whispered to you. No man had ever been that close to you and it was making you nervous.

“Just follow my lead, I’ve got you.” He leaned back up and watched you turn your face back to him, giving him a small nod. He smiled down at you as the dance began. You moved around the floor, Benedict taking the lead, looking down at you to make sure that you were okay as he did so. All he was focused on was you. It was as if nothing else in the room mattered and he had no idea why he was so captivated by you.

He didn’t know why you were so nervous. You were a natural when it came to the waltz. And he liked watching you move along with him, seeing your dress move back and forth, wanting to run his hands up your thighs as he spread them apart, watching you come undone as he buried his head between them, licking and sucking as you grabbed onto his hair. And he’d make sure he could see your head being thrown back, hearing the delicious moans fall from your lips.

He wanted so badly to remove your dress so slowly, hearing you beg for him because he wasn’t moving fast enough. Whining his name as he took off your under garments as slowly as possible, kissing every single inch of your body as he bent you over the nearest surface he could find, pounding into you as he told you what a good little slut you were.

You both continued to move around the room gracefully and you were avoiding his eye contact still, his hazel ones boring into you, a smirk kicking up at the corner of his lips as he watched you. Benedict knew he’d have to dance with you more than once to hopefully bring you out of his shell. You’d definitely be a different person by the time he was done with you.

The dance finished and Benedict brought you back over to Anthony and Kate, not wanting your time together to end, but knowing that he had to dance with the other debutants to please Violet. He bowed before you and you gave him a curtesy as he bid you a goodbye.

“It was a pleasure, Miss l/n,” he said once he stood back up.

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr, Bridgerton,” you smiled shyly and the man swore he was going to melt. Benedict knew that you had meant the words in the most innocent sense, but his cock, definitely didn’t. There was no hint of flirting in your tone, but he was going to pretend that there was. That the attraction wasn’t one sided.

And you had to be attracted to him, right? He knew when a woman had fancied him, but for some reason, he couldn’t get a read on you. You were going to be a tough one to crack. He’d have to spend more time with you to figure you out.

Even after he had moved on to other debutants, his mind wouldn’t leave you. He wanted to do the most filthiest things to you and knowing that you were most likely a virgin made it even more exciting. Knowing that he could have been your first sent a rush up his spine.

But he couldn’t do that to you. He just couldn’t. Considering how protective Anthony had been of you, Benedict wasn’t looking to get killed, especially not over a woman. So, after he finished the dance, he left the ball, on the hunt for someone to hook up with since anything with you was definitely off the table.

You spent practically the entire night with Anthony and Kate and for the first time, you felt like you had real friends. They both seemed interested in what you had to say and didn’t treat you like a child just because you were young. And they were respectful of your soft spoken voice, neither of them asking you to speak up or telling you that they couldn’t hear you.

You entered your bedroom with a smile on your face and got ready for bed, thinking about the new friends you had made and that you actually had a good time at the ball despite not thinking that you would. You laid down thinking that maybe, just maybe you’d actually like it there.

#Bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton fluff

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amourane · 4 months

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cheers to youth

pairing: yoon jeonghan x gn!reader

genre: angst? hurt and comfort, a lot of comfort, fluff

w/c: 1.1k

summary: in which you and yoon jeonghan reunite after years and find comfort in each other.

warnings: none

a/n: in honour of the cty mv releasing and me crying to it every single time i watched it. i hope this makes your day feel better if you're having a hard time <3 remember to always love yourself!

Jeonghan didn’t know where he was going.

The rain poured down relentlessly, each droplet soaking him to the bone. He had no umbrella, but he didn't notice or care. Even when the winds were rough and the trees were being pushed around he continued to walk.

Walk to nowhere.

Part of him knew he should be getting rest or at least try to. Jeonghan hadn’t slept for many days now and if he even managed to, it would only last for an hour or two before he was woken up. There were bags that shadowed his eyes and he silently trudged along the path.

It was bad enough he was having a bad day then he came home to have his girlfriend of two years break up with him. Yujin was bound to leave him sooner or later, everyone else did. And yet, even when he knew this, it still hurt. The feeling still left a hole in his heart just like it did the first time. It still seemed to tear his consciousness apart, leaving him a hollow shell.

Jeonghan couldn’t decide what hurt more: her leaving or his letting her go. He could have begged her to stay, could have gotten down on his knees and pleaded, but he didn't. He let her slip away. Perhaps it was because he knew he had fallen out of love with her.

The two had only found solace and comfort when times were rough and back then, Jeonghan

had been at a better place. When he looked at her he used to be filled with the softest of love and admiration. He didn’t do that anymore. The couple fought and screamed and in the end, it always ended in tears. So like he said, inevitable.

There was a figure at the park, hunched over on a bench. Jeonghan's eyes were blurry, partly from the tears so when he approached you he didn't recognise the familiar warm eyes. The eyes that once sparkled with happiness and joy. It was you who was crying silently in the rain and you didn’t notice Jeonghan until he sat down next to you.

You looked up sniffling, red eyes dripping with tears. It took a moment for you to register who was in front of you before you let out a gasp.

"Jeonghan!" Your voice was croaky and he suspected it was because you've been crying for a long time. "Long time no see."

It truly had been long. The last time he remembered seeing you was at the graduation party. The two of you were never closely acquainted. There was only a small project when the both of you were paired together. Even then, he loved the way your voice sounded like honey and no matter what, you were always smiling. It made him forget about the tough moments in life for just a small period of time whenever you were with him.

"I didn't think you'd recognise me." He chuckled.

"Nonsense." You wiped away your tears, as you took a shaky breath. "I'd remember that face anywhere."

There was a silence between the two of you. It wasn’t awkward though. He let you weep and you let him stay. It was mutual understanding.

"Why are you in the rain then? If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind." Jeonghan sighed. "Girlfriend broke up with me and my life's been shitty." You nodded and it wasn’t in pity, he was glad for that. "What about you?"

"Found him in the bed with my best friend." You scoffed, bringing your hand up to his face. "We were meant to get married four months from now."

Jeonghan noticed the small diamond ring you had on your finger. He sat next to you, letting you ramble to him. You apologised a lot and he barely recognised you from the years back. Back then you were the happiest person in the room, loud and cheerful. Now you were meek and timid, saying sorry for the littlest of things.

"You probably hate me talking so much." You nibbled your bottom lip. "It's nice to see you again though Jeonghan. Nice to see a familiar face."

There was a brief silence and Jeonghan took in what you had just said. The two of you had changed a lot since you last saw each other but that was expected. No one can really stay the same after so many years.

"I don't think I could hate anything about you Y/n." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "It's nice to see you as well. I've always wondered how you've been doing post-graduation."

Even though the rain had stopped, the clouds covered the sun. The weather was better than before, still cold no doubt. You were shivering a bit and Jeonghan noticed. He reckoned you were in a rush to get out of wherever you were because you were only wearing a t-shirt and that was soaked though. He took off his jacket and handed it to you.

"It won't do much since it's already wet. But it'll stop you from freezing to death." When you met his gaze you could see his eyes, filled with something you couldn't describe and yet it made your stomach warm and a surge of comfort washed over you.

"Are you sure? I remember you being quite sensitive to the cold, I don’t want you to freeze." The thought you had recalled such an insignificant detail about him made Jeonghan’s heart skip a beat.

“It’s fine honestly, I’m wearing a hoodie underneath anyway.”

You hesitantly took the jacket and put it on. "Thank you."

Jeonghan was about to get up and head home when you grabbed his hoodie. He turned around to see you, drowning in the significantly larger than you jacket and he couldn’t help but think you looked cute. You were fumbling around in your bag, taking out your phone.

"Can I get your number?"

Jeonghan stared at you and tried to comprehend what you had just asked.

He blinked a few times before taking out his phone. A small smile tugged at your lips as the two of you exchanged numbers. A warm feeling filled both of your chests. The both of you hadn’t felt that in such a long time.

When you told him goodbye Jeonghan smiled at you and for the first time it was a smile that he didn’t have to force. It was a smile that he knew was true, he knew it was because he was happy.

That night when he got home he received a text.

21:04 - from Y/n: hi, it's y/n! i forgot to tell you before you left but thank you for being there for me today <3 wanna go get some coffee tomorrow, my treat?

Jeonghan bit back a grin.

21:06 - to Y/n: coffee tomorrow sounds good :)

And when he went to bed that night, it was the most peaceful sleep he ever had.

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mari-the-bimbo · 11 months

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Gojo’s Satoru’s obsession

A/N: Some yummy content for our glorious king 🙏👑

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, unprotected sex, age gap implied

Gojo Satoru was obsessed with you from the moment he laid his icy blue eyes on you. He knew he needed you, in a way he couldn’t explain, you were made for him, he could feel it. Fantasies of spoiling you, kissing you and touching you forever played on his mind.

So once you finally gave the business tycoon a chance, he wasted no time making his admiration known. You haven’t been dating for long but you sure knew how he felt about you through his touchy ways.

“So how was college today princess?” He says casually, as if his tall 6’3 figure isn’t towering over you, making you hyper aware of the size difference.

You both sat on his leather sofa in his large monochromatic living room. A dim light from the crystal lamp that glowed amber.

“Oh it was okay” you manage to say with a smile. His long pale finger twirling strands of your hair, “oh yeah?” He purrs with a devious smile, as he watches your poor attempt to keep your composure, he knew his sweet girl wouldn’t last long though. Not when you’re already blushing and squirming in your seat.

He leans in closer and takes off his sunglasses as if to create more tension, before asking “you didn’t miss me too much did you?”

Trick question, he was setting you up, either answer leads to a dangerous territory.

However you couldn’t deny his scheming flirty ways and the authority he had over you didn’t turn you on. You tear your gaze away from his entrancing eyes and fiddle with his shirt, “um well..”

“Y/n~” he sings your name out when you don’t answer.

His bulge now pressing against you, you gasp from the sudden contact but that doesn’t stop him from grinding against your clothed pussy painfully slow. You feel the hardness cause friction between your sensitive area until you had a wet patch exposing your desire. You hear a stifled laugh from Gojo as he reaches down to play with the wet material. Pervert.

Suddenly you find yourself dry humping him too, chasing that delicious feeling it gave you. He smiles widely at your contorted face, eyes closed, gosh you’re so cute when he has you like this.

“Oh Gojo…” you sigh

“Say it”

“I missed you too much!” You gasp as your hands weakly attempt to pull his grey sweatpants down.

“Hey hey slow down princess, I’ll take them off for you okay? You know I’d never deny you anything right?” He says, with a soft chuckle. You nod your head in agreement.

And so as you hold eye contact with his intense gaze on you, his hands travel down, pulling down his sweatpants and boxers at once, exposing his girthy cock, pre cum glistening at his pink tip.

He gives it a few pumps with his own hand, and all you could do is stare in awe before he placed his cock into your own trembling hand, much to your surprise.

“Your turn” he says with a flirty wink, and you blink a few times, before getting to work. You knew the drill, if you wanted him inside you, you need to work for it.

Your much smaller hands pumped his now wet cock, smearing more wetness along the length, the cold feeling of the diamond bracelet he bought you touches his skin, causing him to shiver in pleasure. His hands were still entangled in your head as he let out a strangled moan. “Oh you’re so good to me y/n, such a good girl for me” he whispered.

“You deserve it don’t you?” He asks. And you know what he’s referring to. “Yeah”

“Take it off then”

Upon command, you waste no time leaving his length to undress yourself, taking off your panties to welcome him. He has a content smile as he watches you adoringly, hands behind his head.

Once you’re finally undressed, Gojo grabs you by the hips and pulls you to him to line his tip up with your folds.

Now it was a harmonious team effort of moans between you and Gojo, both immediately lost in pleasure as he pushes his length into you after promising to only ‘start with the tip’’ liar, he knew he didn’t have such self control when it came to you.

The power of his thrusts rocks your hips back and forth. At some point your screams of his name overtakes his loud moans from when you grab the white strands of his hair in desperation. Your back arches in pleasure but Gojo is quick to press you back down with just one hand.

“Can’t miss me when I’m buried inside you yeah?” He rasps as his pace quickens and you knew you were close.

You’re unable to respond as you become a whimpering mess, responding with nothing but another scream as your vision blurs. He moans as he feels his own high too, “yes yes yes that’s it, yes!” pressing himself closer to you into a mating press as you both cum, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he releases his hot white cream into you with a lewd moan.

Your chest heaves from the aftermath. But your strong, older boyfriend holds you in his warm embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, letting him press flat against you as you both catch your breath.

Once you finally escape the euphoria, you look up from Gojo’s chest to see him already staring at you with a lovesick smile. How could someone hold so much love for you after only knowing you for a while?

“Such a sweet girl” he praises as he strokes your cheek with his thumb, jokingly booping your nose just after to make you laugh.

“Forget college tomorrow, spend some time with me instead okay?“ he says pressing a kiss to your cheek as you scoff knowing damn well you won’t be able to walk tomorrow anyways.

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thesimpsbasement · 11 months

Text

Little things they do for you...[twst NRC+RSA]

(Ortho and Lilia are platonic)

•Riddle Rosehearts who always makes sure to help you however he can when it comes to academics.He knows how much you struggle so study dates are his way of showing his love for you. Don't worry about the rules,he tends to overlook them when it comes to you,in his eyes you can do no wrong.

•Ace Trappola who always gives you great advice.He may be blunt but he means well.He makes it clear that he's always there is you need it.Hr may not admit it but his chest swells with pride everytime you come to him and always rubs it in Deuce's face.He may be snarky on the outside but he MELTS on the inside.

•Deuce Spade who will do anything for you.He wants to be an honours student, but he also wants to be the best boyfriend you could ever have. You're his first partner and he treats you like royalty to the best of his abilities because in his eyes you deserve all of it and so much more.

•Trey Clover who always "accidentally" makes too many sweets and always gives them to you.You know he does it on purpose but you don't complain, after all Trey's pastries are always so delicious.

•Cater Diamond who let's you be vulnerable in front of it.He will never shame you for your pain.He can tell when your smiles are strained and fake,he knows the feeling all too well so in these situations he'd take you somewhere private so you can let out all your emotions.

•Leona Kingscholar who always makes sure to appreciate your efforts.He knows what it's like to be cast aside and all your hard work to be ignored. He never wants you to feel that kind of pain,never.Even if it's something little he makes sure to praise you,to let you know your efforts are acknowledged and that you are worthy.

•Jack Howl who likes to involve you in his activities.You're an important part of his life and he wants to spend every second of it with you.Morning runs,SpellDrive matches,club activities anything really.He doesn't mind if you aren't as physically capable as he is,just having you by his side is enough.

•Ruggie Bucchi who shares his food with you.Ruggie never shares unless there's some sort of benefit...well...seeing your smile and thr way your eyes light up as you eat the food he brought you is enough of a reward in his eyes but when he's feeling greedy he will ask for a kiss in return for his good deed.

•Azul Ashengrotto who makes sure you're not getting bullied.He gets protective of you real fast and is willing to do anything for your well being.And if you are getting bullied...oh boy he's fumming but he isn't going to show it ,as much as he wants to destroy your bullies he has other matters to attend to aka making sure his precious Angelfish is alright.Don't worry, those bullies aren't leaving unharmed,afterall he has Jade and Floyd to deal with them.

•Jade Leech who always let's you ramble about your interests.He stares lovingly at you eith heart eyes as you talk and talk about whatever your passionate about.The ways your eyes sparkle,the way you fumble on your words due to how excited you are,the way your hands move.He'd kill for moments like these.

•Floyd Leech who let's you use him as a stress ball.He finds it adorable when you squeeze his hand,always reassuring you that you can squeeze as hard as you like, that it doesn't hurt.He also likes pulling you into tight hugs,feeling you squeeze him as tightly as you can as you try to ground yourself.

•Kalim Al-Asim who loves spoiling you.There's no way out of this.Even when you tell him he doesn't have to buy anything, he simply can't. Buying gifts is his love language and he loves seeing you in the clothes he bought or enjoying the meal he payed for.

•Jamil Viper who always finds time to spend with you.No matter how busy he is with his duties he will always find ways to be with you.Usually asks you to come to Scarabia to keep him company, he insists you don't have to help him but it does warm up his heart whenever you offer it.

•Vil Schoenheit who always makes sure you take care of yourself. You might think it's for the sake of your beauty which to some extent it is true but his main reason is because he wants you to be healthy. He always makes sure you're eating the proper amount,that you are hydrated and that you get enough sleep.

•Epel Felmier who always supports your dreams.No matter how ridiculous they might sound.He always tries to be involved in your hobbies. Drawing together, working out,hell he'll even do the things he wouldn't be caught dea doing because he loves you so much.

•Rook Hunt who always makes sure you feel beautiful. He will not let you berate yourself in any way shape or form.If he hears you utter a negative thing about yourself he will just bombard you with even more praise.His praises are never done out of pity either,whatever he says he means it with his chest.

•Idia Shroud who let's you use his room as a safe space. If you're overwhelmed and just need some place quiet then he'll gladly over his room.You're the only person he doesn't get anxious around so he doesn't mind your presence one bit.You two don't even have to talk,just sitting in comfortable silence is enough for the both of you.

•Ortho Shroud who is often the little brother to you.He often admires you and if anyone dares to bad mouth you they better be prepared to get blasted. He often refers to you as his older sibling as well which confuses other but he doesn't care.

•Malleus Draconia who always invites you.If there's any celebration going on in Diasomnia he will first and foremost invite you.He also likes to drag you during club activities.He remembers how happy he was when he got the invitation to VDC so he has to repay you tenfold.

•Lilia Vanrouge who definitely adds pictures of you to his photo album. He sees you as part of his family now so there are pictures of Malleus,Silver,Sebek and you in thr album.He looks at these pictures fondly and definitely teases you when the both of you look through it.

•Silver who uses you as his own personal pillow.He feels guilty the first couple of times he accidentally fell asleep on you but over time it was something comforting.Now he can't get proper sleep of you aren't by his side.

•Sebek Zigvolt who defends you like his life depends on it.As his significant other he sees you on the same level as Malleus if not higher but he'll never admit it.He always praises anything you do and it gets to the point the students hear more about you than they hear about Malleus.

•Neige Leblanche who loves to sing to you.Especially hum lullabies to help you sleep.His voice is so soothing you can't help but fall asleep. He also loves to sing with you,no matter if you can sing or not.

•Chen'ya who tickles you a lot to hear you laugh.He chuckles as his fingers find your sides and immediately begin tickling, watching your smile as you close your eyes,laughing and telling him to stop.He can never get enough of the way your laugh sounds.Even if it's an ugly laugh,it's yours and that's all he cares about.

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alrightberries · 1 year

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sometimes it's hard to believe that your relationship with katsuki is optional and that both of you can opt out any time you want because he's always just - there.

picking you up and dropping you off from work. meeting you at a 711 every tuesday and thursday for a quick lunch when he's on break from patrol. dragging you away from a stationary store because he saw the way your eyes lit up and immediately felt a pang in his wallet because he loves you, damn it, but your career's just starting and he went pro only six months ago and finances are tight and you're laughing and saying that "i'll only take a look!" but it's not you he's worried about splurging, it's him and his urge to spoil you and give you anything you want on a silver platter.

and katsuki finds it hard to believe that your relationship is optional, too.

not when he's sending you links to his updated work calendar - yes, he's that type of person - the second he gets his monthly schedule so you could compare it to yours and find time for dates. not when he's picking up some chocolate from the grocery store on his way back from a patrol because you've been grumpier than usual and he's got a feeling your stash is almost out and you're rationing what you have left. not when he comes back from work and he already knows you're holed up in your shared bedroom, wearing his shirt with another one draped on a pillow next to you because his work schedule's charted but the reality is his shifts are unpredictable and there's no telling if he'll be back by dinner or two o'clock in the morning, and you've always slept better when he's by your side.

you've become so ingrained in his daily routine and him in yours that the thought of not coming home to you or waking up to you never once crosses his mind.

but that's fine, he thinks. there's a pretty diamond ring waiting in his winter coat pocket, tucked away in the back of the closet for when things are a little more okay, when your careers are stable, and he can finally afford to spoil you the way you deserve - and your relationship will be optional no more.

#domesticity with him has a chokehold on my mind #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #drabble

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solbaby7 · 5 months

Note

Hi!! I have a request if you don’t mind 💜💜

Could you do a Rhys x reader where she has bought some lingerie for the first time without Rhys knowing she bought it and he catches her trying them on in their bedroom?

He’d have a hard time trying to decide on if he wants to fuck you with it on or to rip it off.

Temptress

pairing: rhysand x reader

warnings: sexual descriptions, swearing, a million different ways to say panties, possible typos

—

You’d been swayed.

Captivated by such delicate pieces that when the sweet shop owner offered you a discount on the piles of lingerie you’d been sifting through—you couldn’t refuse.

Bags hang off your arms filled to the brim with intricately detailed bustiers and corsets, thongs of varying colors and cuts with garters and thigh high tights to match. Some were riskier than others; crotchless panties or g-strings decorated in shiny chains with a custom diamond encrusted ‘R’ dangling over your ass.

A warm glow casts over your form, gaze fixed on your figure reflected in the mirror and you can’t help but admire the way each piece looks on. Velvets and silk, lace and leather that fits as if it were made specifically with your measurements in mind. Too distracted by the effects of a push-up bra, you don’t even notice your High Lord lingering in the doorway. Both arms cross at his chest, shoulder resting on the doorframe and head slightly tilted as violet eyes roam you over.

Rhysand’s perfectly silent while you move to change, bending over to slip on a silky pair of underthings with thin pearl strings that held at your hips. Teeth bite at the fat of his bottom lip as he takes in the round of your ass against the pale pink material and he fights the urge to tear it clean off.

Your hands smooth over your figure, utterly oblivious, eyes squinting in thought before flicking over to the male in the mirror. A low gasp of surprise, a blush fanning across your cheeks at the dark look looming in indigo irises. “Rhys,” It’s instinctual to cover up, arms crossing over your chest to hide parts of you he’d already memorized a million times over. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

He hums low, almost dismissively as he drinks in the feminine whine lacing your tone. “Didn’t see you much today, sweet girl.”

“I went out to the city to do some shopping,” You confess softly, slowly lowering your arms to show off the newly acquired purchase. “Pretty, right?”

The look in his eye is predatory no matter how subdued his tone is. Because while you’re referring to fine details in the lace line cups; Rhysand is fully ogling the generous lift of your breasts. “Absolutely mouthwatering,” Four steps is all it takes for him to clear the length of the room and to your surprise, he strides right past you and settles into the chair tucked by your mirror. Rhys pulls the bag into his lap, shuffling around the items until he finds one that had his cock jumping in his pants. “Try them on for me—start with this one.”

A sheer little slip dangles from two fingers, the matching thong draped over his knee and excitement swells in your belly when the door closes behind you. The lock sliding into place with nothing more than a cocky lift of his brow. A shiver runs down your spine, body wedged between his spread legs. “Help me take this off?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Rhysand takes more care with the fabric than you would’ve. You’re forced to remain still as the bra is unhooked and eased off your shoulders. A pleased hum pulls from the back of his throat, reacquainting himself with the weight of your breasts and the hardened peaks of your nipples. Goosebumps ripple against every inch of bare skin, stomach clenching when his knuckles trail a path down the soft swell of your belly. “Leave these on,” A thumb slides under the elegant pearls holding the underwear in place. “I like them.”

“Elegant enough for a High Lady?”

Rhys chuckles, settling back into the chair with low lids. “Elegance has no place in the plans I’ve made for you tonight.” The lights go dim; darkness beginning to cloak your bedchamber and Death Incarnate seems to expel a sigh of relief when allowing such subdued power to stretch free from its confinements.

Chiffon nearly slips free from your grasp, limbs quaking as the tension held this in the air. He watches your every move, a bulge steadily growing in his pants but he makes no move to touch himself. “You’re not working?”

“It’s not going anywhere.” Your brow raises, a little smirk quirking in the corner of glossy lips and his eyes are rolling before you can even throw in your two cents on how any other night his answer would be completely different. “Besides, what kind of male would I be if I chose boring documents over my mate—one who’s half naked and hot as sin.”

“You flatter me.” Thin straps snap against your shoulders, the powerful darkness casting perfect shadows against feminine curves. A blush begins on the apples of your cheeks, lashes fluttering fondly as you eat up the praise. “I’ve barely even gotten to the fun stuff yet. Should see the kinds of goodies I’ve got stuffed in that bag.”

A smile curls at his full lips, body language effortlessly regal, arms lax at his sides as his legs spread just a little wider. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Your eyes dip down without permission, catching the outline of his erection through tailored dress pants. It strains again the stitching and yet there’s no shame in sight when staring so brazenly. Desire clouds your thoughts, lust darkening your gaze as you turn slowly—providing the perfect view of ass in your underthings. Power fills the space, tainting the air with a thickness felt with each breath taken.

You don’t shy away from it though, steps holding a newfound confidence as you prance over to the bed. Legs elongate, back arching and soft hair dips messily against your cheeks in a way that sends your High Lord in a frenzy as you sink into the sheets. You make a show of getting settled, allowing the satin to shift up your thighs, bunching invitingly near your hips.

Painted toes dangle against the headboard, canopy draping tied securely at each side to leave the view of your ass exposed to him. It’s a tease; an invitation for Rhysand to waltz over with that unwavering air of entitlement and take what belonged to him. “This one might be one of my favorites,” The playful dip of your tone tugs him from his thoughts, though the look in his eye does little to hide the things conjuring up in his mind. So you feed the depraved fantasies, slowly spreading your legs and sliding a hand down the length of your body until manicured fingers collide with delicate fabric. “Easy to put on after a long day of spending all your money.”

He takes the bait, entranced by your shamless groping. “Terrible, horrible thing.”

A nail hooks into the fabric covering your sex, offering a fraction of a glimpse before it returns to place with a snap. “The worst,” You agree, engulfed in the perfect scent of you and Rhysand intermingled in the sheets. Still, you crave more; every fiber of your being begging to his touch. “How about you come teach me a lesson?”

“I will.” He undoes the bindings holding his breeches together, allowing his cock to spring free and one strong hand wraps around it; stroking the hard length up and down. “But first, I want to watch you play with it.” Darkness clasps around your ankles like chains, a cruel laugh echoing in your ears as your hand follows the command without hesitation. Your arousal is audible, squelching obscenely as a free hand keeps lace tucked to the side. “Atta girl, just like that.”

#acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x you #acotar #high lord rhysand #rhys x reader smut #pro rhysand #rhysand acotar #rhys x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand smut #rhys smut #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you

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missmimii · 3 months

Text

Detention | M - Sturniolo

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - In which two students find themselves landing in detention for their lack of good behaviour, they find themselves uncovering the tension and undeniable attraction of one another.

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. 18+, switch!matt, fem!reader, smut, language, public(kinda?) dirty talk, pet names, fluff, (no actual intercourse)

MDNI!

୨ৎ － Wc - 8.5k

• 𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ － finally got this shit written, woo!

The girl couldn’t help the way her eyes slowly drew themselves onto the boy who leans over his desk, pencil in hand, that occasionally makes a small tap, as he flicks the rubber end against the hard surface of the desktop. The few papers scattered across the desk occupied by the timidly quiet man, have slightly messy writing aligned across the sheets, his signature written atop.

MATT

Her lips tip up at the corners as she caught sight of the odd way he’d spelt his name, but pays no more mind than necessary, as well as averting the gaze of her eyes to the front of the practically empty room. With the boredom of sitting in silence, and nothing merely interesting to focus the girls attention on, she found herself flicking the irritant gaze of her eyes to the old clock that hung above the empty desk, along with the occasional bounce of the knee.

Why did I choose today of all days to be such a bitch? I could just leave, she pondered before clearing the foolish thought with a shake of the head.

If the girl was being blatantly honest, the only thing that had kept her in the depressive room, was the awkward boy that sat exactly four seats away.

Of course the girl would never consider herself as a nosy individual, considering it was those kinds of people who had gotten her landed in detention. Though, the curiosity she found herself feeling had her pleat-skirted bottom glued to her small plastic seat. Her mind raced with thoughts, the one in lead being, what the fuck was Matthew Sturniolo, doing in detention ?

Having gone to the same since middle school, it wasn’t a shock to be familiar or know most of the people in her grade. The girl had known the same peers for an obnoxiously, and seemingly endless amount of time, which at first, didn’t seem so bad.

When in reality, it was just a vicious cycle of a bunch of nosy teenagers, who think they know anything and everything about you.

Except for the three boys, that was.

It was a regular public school, resulting in nobody really striking as different.

Even if there was cliches and some random wanna-be gangster boys, who thought they had some higher superiority, in the end we were just all humans who were trying to get through senior year.

And even though the set of boys were the only triplets who attended the school, or twins for that matter, the bunch of boys weren’t the oddest thing that came from the pair. It was him.

Between Chris, Nick, and Matt, the middle child stuck out like a sore thumb. She’d noticed the youngest was most definitely the social butterfly of the bunch.

It didn’t take much to gather, seeing as every in any class that the girl had with the boy, he’d be leaning his head over random people’s shoulders, a toothy grin on his lips as he pathetically attempted to befriend almost everyone in his surroundings.

Two weeks prior

“Hey.”

My eyebrows knit together, head slowly raising from my textbook at the sound of a soft whisper coming from .. behind me?

I quickly glance behind me, catching sight of one of the familiar faces I’d seen almost every day since I was thirteen. “.. Hi?” The greeting comes out as more of a question, though I assume he doesn’t pay mind to it, as he immediately adds his over-enthusiastic response.

“I know you.”

I open and close my mouth, silently scrambling for a reply to the unsettling sentence. “Congratulations?” His smile dips at the corners a bit, and I hold in the urge to laugh.

The glare of the small diamonds pierced through both of the boys ears, become showcased as he turns his head, eyes warily swiping along the room. “So..” He slowly looks back my way, voice drifting off into a whisper.

“Doyouknowhowtospellthis?”

Both of my eyebrows raise. “Sorry? I literally- didn’t hear one thing you just said.” I let out a small snort at the end of my sentence, withholding the extremely strong urge to ask the triplet how he’s even real fucking person.

He breathes out a sigh while rolling his eyes. “Do you know how to spell this!” I jump and look around at his sudden outburst, seeing almost every peer around mine and the males desks, eyes on us both.

Before I could respond, I was beat to it by a boy that looked awfully familiar to the one behind me. “What the fuck Chris?!” The eldest triplet hissed, glaring down at the younger one with pink cheeks, obviously embarrassed by his brother’s lack of social skills.

Chris rolled his eyes as his triplet stood over his desk, crossing his arms like a scolded child while tipping his chin to the side with a silent scoff. “I believe your seat is nearing the front left corner of the room, Nick.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Nicks eyebrows drew together as he peered down at his brother. “The front right, you dummy.” He scoffed, and I covered my mouth to hide the smile that appeared on my lips as I sighted the pink flush that tainted the younger brother’s cheeks with embarrassment. “Which you’d know, after us being in the same class since kindergarten, if you knew your fuckin’ left and rights!” Nick whisper hissed.

I watched as Chris’s face fell with anger as he went retort, with a harsh reply I’m certain, before the sound of my English teachers voice piped in. “Christopher Sturniolo.” Both boys faces paled, simultaneously turning to face the angered woman. “We’re in the middle of a grammatical spelling exam.” She deadpanned.

Chris’s shoulders fell, before his eyes slowly glided beside him to his slightly taller twin. Nick shot daggers at the boy, making him huff out a small grunt, turning his head back to Miss Callahan as he plastered a sheepish grin in his lips.

“.. If I raise my hand can he help me?”

Current day

The memories of the day could make the girl cry, laughing all over again, remembering how the staff member nodded toward the eldest triplet who sat nearing the front of the class, to go help the younger one.

“That’s not how you spell ‘Rehearsal’ you dumb fuck.”

Though she was then already acquainted with two other brothers, she still found herself drawn, or rather curious about the middle child.

Matt stuck to himself, but because he was pretty much always accompanied by the presence of the other two men, it was decently odd to see how closed off and isolated he was when by himself.

When in the halls alone, he would have headphones atop his head, or resting around his neck as he fiddled with the horse chain woven around his neck. Or in class, he’d simply silently do his work, a hand never being raised or words being spoken from his lips as the hours passed.

It was almost refreshing to see a decent mannered man, in a school filled to the brim of attitude ridden, douchebags.

The odd thing about this wasn’t how he was perceived, because if the girl was being realistic, all of the traits that were being performed by him, weren’t necessarily weird or unusual.

The only difference was the contrast between himself and his brothers. Both of the others seemingly outgoing, and extroverted, where Matt just merely wasn’t.

Leading to the ultimate question she has in these very moments.

What in gods name did quiet, innocent, Matthew Sturniolo do to end up in detention?

“Shit.”

The startled girl jumps a bit as her desk rattles, two ring clad hands flying out to steady the wobbling table. She pushes her chair out a bit, jaw slack as she blinks up at the dark haired boy who stands directly in front of her sitting frame, from the opposite end of her desk. “Fuck, I’m really sorry.” Matt chuckles nervously.

The ability for words to emit from her parted lips fades away as she peered up at him in disbelief, weirdly shocked at the sinful strings of curses that had come from his lips. “Uh- no, you’re good.” She shook her head a bit, sending him a small smile.

“Yeah?” He tilts his head while peering down at the girl, seeking her reassurance. At her nod, he softly sighs while threading a hand through the dark tendrils of hair that messily topple just below his eyebrows. “I was just-” He points his outstretched thumb toward behind him. “-going to grab a pen.” He explains.

Her lips form an ‘o’ with understanding, holding in the urge to smile at the explanation he offered, as it was utterly unnecessary. “Here,” Matt’s eyebrows draw together with confusion as he leers down at nymph, her hands shuffling through the chaotic mess of the faded pink backpack.

She made a small sound of content, tugging out an assortment of pens, pencils, and highlighters. “Take your pick.” She grinned up at him while holding out her palm.

He eyes the pile of pens for a moment, before his calculated gaze drags back to hers. “It’s fine, really. Callahan has a whole fuckin’ drawer filled- I can just steal one from her.” The girl shakes her head.

“No really- don’t bother.” A few hairs that escape her braided pigtails stick her lips as she spoke, the words getting caught in her throat as she senses his gaze flicking to them as she simply blew the strays away. “These are just a bunch that I’ve borrowed from people in my math class and never gave back. Plus it’s the least I could do after you practically trampled over my desk-” The girl rambles, before she feels her cheeks warm.

Do you ever shut up? She thought to herself.

Her attention is brought back to the boy at the sound of a chuckle, head raising. “How considerate of you.” She forces a smile to her lips, seeing the male observe the action whilst his tongue dips from between his lips and runs along his bottom lip.

Matt’s slim fingers reach out and carefully take one of the school pencils from the girls palm, the rough pad of his index fingers grazing along the lining of her palm. “Thanks, doll.” She offers a small nod, finding herself at a loss for words at her entrancement, caused by his heated stare as he flicks the pencil between his middle and index finger.

His back is to the awkward girl within seconds of the interaction, the stained white airforces stalking across the floors as he goes back toward his desk. Sucking in a breath, she looked down at her thighs, fiddling with the hem of the pleated skirt her curvier hips had adorned.

Minutes after minutes go by, though it seems like hours, her eyes every now and then drifting back to the man that holds the pen she’d lent him dragging across the page in front of him.

The girl made notice of how he’d now flipped the pencil around, and erased markings of one particular line of the page, for what seemed to be the hundredth time. “Fuck me.” Matt curses under his breath, the girls eyes widening at the sinful words words.

Should I? The girl thought to herself. He looks like he’s struggling, to say the upmost least- and if he was anything similar to his youngest brother within the skills of grammar, I’d take it as so.

No- what was I thinking? I’m sure the grown man could figure out to spell whatever the hell he was attempting at.

Her gaze flicks upwards, spotting the hand now free of a pencil, and now kneading the back of his head in frustration. The girl felt her stomach swoop with a twinge of guilt, almost feeling sorry of the triplets irritated state.

She began to think, since she’d already done something wrong to end up in detention, maybe it could be her way of .. making up for her mistakes?

She inwardly scoffs at the thoughts of stupidity. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t wanting to help the boy out of selflessness, I was practically feigning to know what he’d done to end up in this hell-hole.

Fuck it, she said to herself, slipping from her seat. The girls slightly trembling hands tug down the back of the pleated skirt that had ridden up her backside from sitting, softly walking closer to the male, until she was standing behind him, filled with hesitation.

As the girls hand reaches out to tap his shoulder, it was immediately tugged back, the nagging thoughts building in the back of her skull. What if he took offence to my offer of help? She thought to herself. “Whatever.” She breathed out in a whisper to herself, before finally building the courage to tap his broad shoulder.

Matt’s head immediately turned in the direction from where she stood, resulting her stumbling a startled step back. “Sorry!” She held her two hands up in defence, lamely. “I was just,” She waves toward the page in front of him, his face turned with a confused expression. “Do you need help with..” The girl trailed off.

The brown haired male stares a her for a solid five seconds, open and closing his mouth, before they purse. “Yeah..” he chuckles awkwardly, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “Fuck, that’s so embarrassing.” She gently shook her head at his words.

“Not at all.” She waved her hand around. He stared down at her smaller hand as she extended it, the confusion gracing his features quickly morphing into realization as he gently plops the pencil in her open palm. “I still forget how to spell Wednesday correctly, till this day.” She huffed out. “Which is completely stupid considering English has been the only subject I’ve done halfway decent in.” At the lame rambled confession, the girl felt her hand still against the paper, whilst her eyes squeeze shut with embarrassment.

Why’d I have to say that?

The attempt at trying to help his lack of confidence regain apparently worked it seems, as he chuckles at her prior reply. Even though the boy knew he was consider odd, weird -even, he couldn’t help but find himself amused by the odd girls behaviour. “Really? That one’s easy for me. I just think wed-nes-day.” He cut the word into three sections.

She threw him a small glare. “Way’ to make a girl feel bad.” She playfully nudged his shoulder with her own, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the movement. “Uh- okay, so what were you trying to spell?” Her eyes run over the page, stopping on the blotch of faded inked writing, that had very clearly been erased and re-written more than once.

Matt’s cheeks visibly flush as he leans his body closer to hers, the small hairs on the girls arms sticking up as goosebumps began to trickle along the surface, a small grunt leaving his lips that were perked into a small frown as he looked down at his page. “Right there,” Her eyes follow his index finger as he slowly drags the pad over the area.

“I was trying- or rather failing, to spell ambidextrous.” She felt a the corners of her lips tip up, brushing the few stray hairs from my lashes to meet his eyes tilting my head a bit to lift a brow at the confession.

She repeated his words. “Ambidextrous?” At his nod she was unable to help the small laugh that left her mouth. “Sorry-” She softly shook her head, running her hand across her jaw to stop the laughter from rolling off her tongue. “isn’t that when you’re like- left handed and right handed?” Matt slowly nods, the pink tint on his cheeks deepening.

She just shook her head incredulously before bringing the tip of the pen down to the page. “It’s for science exam- it’s a long story.” He mumbles, and she sent him a quick glance, before going back to dragging the tip across the page.

Y/n hummed softly. “I have all day.” Matt watched as her hand stilled against the paper. “Well- until that clock strikes ten o’clock.” She waved toward the wall she assumed the dusty clock was on, before going back to writing down the overly complex word.

The triplet leaned back in his seat as he glanced at the wall, seeing it completely void of any decor, and shook his head with amusement.

What an odd girl.

Unbeknownst to the male, Y/n had the exact same thoughts running about in her own mind. She watched as his knee would bounce up and down in her peripheral vision, along with the occasional hand that would run across his jaw. Was I making him uncomfortable? Or did I come off as rude by asking if he needed help with something as simple as correcting a grammatical error?

The pit in her stomach made her feel a bit nauseous, though the girl decided to let it go as she cleared her throat. “So uh- what did you do to end up in here?” Her eyes quickly flicked to the male. “You don’t like- have to tell me. I’m sorry, that was so rude of me.” Damn it, Y/n.

Matt found himself in a trance almost, leering up at her with a stargazed expression as her lips moved with each word. He found the girls strange rambling amusing, not that he’d ever openly admit it. “What did you do?” The triplet drawled out teasingly, looking smug as he cocked his head in her direction.

The girl’s hand stop writing for a moment, pondering at what her response would be. “I.. may have called my English teacher a misogynistic douchebag?” Her confession came out sounding as more of a question. Matt’s head tipped back with a chuckle, not shocked by the statement, but also a little proud.

She rolled her eyes at the sound of his laugh, feeling her cheeks warm with embarrassment. “Allegedly.” She grumbled, going back to writing his cheat sheet. The girl had began to write more than just the complex word, sentence after sentence after sentence forming along the lines.

“Allegedly?” He drawled out, chest still shaking with laughter.

She finally couldn’t keep in her own laughter, a few small laughs coming from her own lips as she attempted to keep her writing beneath the lines. “Yes, allegedly.” She huffed, shaking her head. For the first time, Y/n felt genuinely free within the walls of the school. Which was saying a lot, considering how she was in detention.

Her jaw began to ache as she smiled bigger than ever, refusing to let his entertainment lapse from her ridiculous actions. Matt’s smirk remained on his lips, though he opted to run a hand across his jaw while holding in anymore laughter. “Well?” She hummed, raising a brow in his direction, making the males eyes squint with amusement. “Did he at least deserve it?”

She blew out a breath, shaking her head incredulously. “More than ever. You know the scarlet letter?” Y/n was met with silence, making her playfully roll her eyes as she turned her head toward him. “The book?” As if it was even possible, Matt’s perplexed expression had multiplied by ten.

“Demi Moore?”

His lips formed an ‘O’ in understanding, softly nodding. “She’s hot.” Her hand halted against the paper, eyes momentarily closing. Men. “Anyway,” She cut him off, from whatever disgusting rant he was about to go on. “We had to write an essay about the book- not the movie, and I made a point of writing how I thought it was complete bullshit that Roger Chillingworth, didn’t have to embroider an ‘A’ for adulterous actions, and the woman did.”

Matt watched as every word spoken by the girl, the more visibly irritated she became. “Jameson?” He lifted a brow, and at her curt nod, he scoffed. “He’s a dick. I had him in junior year, and he practically failed me because of a few typos.” He nipped at his index finger, hating the past thoughts of the terrible year.

She hummed. “Yep.” Her eyes slid to Matt for a second. “But I believe you still owe me an answer.” She cheesed, nudging his shoulder with her own softly.

Matt’s eyes drifted down to his page that now had perfect cursive writing aligned on numerous columns of the sheet, huffing out a small breath of amusement. The triplet had of course caught onto the girls motive long ago, but found himself unable to take the pen back from her, as if he needed her presence, or rather yearned for it.

Feeling her gaze on his jaw, he cleared his throat before speaking again. “Punched’ some dick who takes out his anger of being a shitty goalie on his girlfriend.” Y/n stopped writing for a moment, stealing a glance at the boy. Matthew’s lips tipped up.

“Allegedly.” He added.

Y/n couldn’t help the small chuckle that she let out, her grasp on the pencil faltering as she uses her two hands to stay upright. “Uh’ huh.” She blew out a breath, a smile still lingering on her lips as she glanced down at his worksheet.

She had practically written the remaining work, weirdly, considering she was not scientifically qualified whatsoever. She hummed and drug the smooth pad of her thumb across the smudge of ink that she’d mistakenly placed across the white page. “Well.. you’re all set.” The girl tipped her head in his direction, grinning foolishly as she looked down at the brunette boy.

Matt found himself drawn into a trance, feeling his heart pulpit repeatedly in his chest a he leered up at her with a stargazed stare. She was so beautiful. He thought to himself, the soft intimidating heat of his gaze tracing each and every freckle and beauty mark imprinted upon her cheeks and lips.

As the two both drowned in their own curiosity and abyss of thoughts, it seemed as if the silence between them was a reflection of the many words that went unspoken.

He must find me obnoxiously annoying- or stuck up.

She thinks I’m a joke, absolutely stupid. Not knowing how to spell something.

It wasn’t that the silence between the two was necessarily awkward, not at all even. It was more so ..tense. Far too tense for both parties that we’re already feeling trapped and unheard, cooped up in a humid classroom. Y/n cleared her throat, again. “I did horrible in science.” She blurted out, feeling warmth flood her cheeks immediately.

Matt’s lips tipped up as she rushed her next words out. “-barely passed actually. So honestly, I probably won’t understand, or pick up on one single thing that’ll come from your mouth about any of it.” The triplet nodded along slowly as she rambled, finding it extremely amusing, and quite frankly, adorable. “But I wouldn’t mind hearing about this exam- thingy.” The girls hands waved around, exaggerating her words.

As she noticed the suddenly outburst she had had, she felt her shoulders drop. What the actual hell, is wrong with you? “Only if you wanted too though.” Matt watched as she meekly murmured her next words, feeling his head tilt to the side as he observed her now shy body languishing.

The girl was beyond exhausted with her own lack of social skills, and with that she felt her emotions taking a toll for the worst as she began to wring with the hem of her skirt with shaky fingers. She was never the most comfortable in overly talkative situations, or rather chit-chat.

That was her absolute worst performance when it came to social interactions.

Despite this, she never thought of herself to be introverted either. She found herself enthralled and excited by speaking and meeting new people. The thing that the girl found herself drained from, was her terrible skills at being even relatively normal.

Matt, being well- himself, found himself almost immediately understanding the way she proposed and functioned. The male had saw the way Y/n carried herself the minute she stepped foot into detention, seeing as she most definitely did not act as the normal person would.

If anything, Matt found himself relating to her behaviour. Alike the two, they were both oddly similar, in different ways. And if the girl were aware of his acceptance of her unintentionally foolish personality, she wouldn’t have been nearly as embarrassed as she was in this exact moment.

But just like her, they both were too afraid to communicate the thoughts they had.

“I can explain along the way.” Y/n’s eyes widened as he broke the silence, Matt looking up at her with a heated stare that constantly flicked between her lustrous eyes, and the plumpness of her lips. But indefinitely he found his gaze become glued onto the pink-tinted skin of her flawless lips, his throat bobbing as he watched her pull her bottom lip between her perfect teeth. “Yeah?” He swallowed, forcing his now darkened stare up to her eyes.

Her lips parted at the unknown .. viciousness presented in the triplets gaze, having clearly noticed the way he’d looked at her lips. Remembering that the male did in fact ask a question, she opted for a silent nod, feeling almost unable to form a coherent response.

Y/n sucked in a breath as she attempted to regain control of her current feelings, accidentally allowing the pen to fall from her chipped pink nails, hearing it roll down the rigged surface of the desktop. “Shit.” The girl cursed to herself, reaching out to grab it.

Before she had the opportunity of grasping the darn thing, a larger, slimmer hand had already snapped out and landed atop the writing utensil. Matthew’s rings glittered from the sun that came in through the window aside his desk, gleaming with silver as he easily flicked the pencil between his index and middle finger, rolling it into his palm effortlessly.

The girl felt her stomach churn, though not in the way she would usual feel. This time it flipped, a fluttering sensation swarming her stomach as if there were millions of butterflies’ wings grazing the longing of her abdomen. “How familiar are you with the five different types of chemistry?” The usual softness of Matt’s tone was long gone, replaced with a husky octave that sounded as if he was containing the urge to speak something sinful.

“.. There’s different kinds?”

Matt found his tongue twinging the inside of his cheek at the girls soft tone, making her roll her eyes and gently push his shoulder as she caught the action. “Shut up. I told you I wasn’t science smart.” He chuckled and raised his hands in defence, the girl looking down at his desktop in embarrassment as she ran a hand down one of her messy braided pigtails.

Deciding not to tease the girl further, the triplet began to flip through the many pages piled up in front of him, before he stopped on a specific one as it was placed atop the pile. “It’s alright. You just helped me spell. The last thing you should be embarrassed about is knowing shit about science, sweetheart.” With a breathy chuckle, he ran his ring clad ring index finger under a messily written sentence of the page.

Sweetheart.

The pet name that the nervy girl would’ve never imagined lulling from his tongue, comes out sounding like a tantalizing melody, flowing from his perfect lips without a beat missed. She watched as his left hand that holds the pencil circles a few words nearing the edge of the page, with a slightly tremble. “See, here?” He underlines the words for extra measure, making her chest warm, the girl sending a quick nod.

“Good. That’s the first one. Organic chemistry.” He explains slowly, drawling out the word ‘Organic’ slower than the others. “The best way I can explain it is the study of the structure and properties, and preparation of carbon-containing compounds.” His eyes flick up to mine. “You got that?”

At his inquiry she found herself nodding, even though she really didn’t. “Mhm..” She forced a sweet smile on her pink lips. Matthew’s eyebrow lifts in suspicion, knowing that the unbeknownst mention of his explanation most definitely didn’t register with the girl, before looking back down to his page.

The inquiry had the girl nodding, feeling as if she was unable to form coherent sentence.

The girls one hand rests on the corner of his desk as she leaned over the surface, eyes dragging from the paper to his blue gaze. “Hm?” Matthew’s eyes flash with a foreign gleam as he she watched his hot stare drift between her lips and her dilated pupils, that showed the pure interest of their current lesson.

Many thoughts swarmed the girls mind, did he think I was stupid? Or that I was just not paying attention? Did he want to feel the impact of my lips against his as much I did his, or was I simply delusional?

The boy shook his head, clearing his throat while forcing his eyes back down onto the paper. “Physical chemistry is the branch of chemistry concerned with interactions and transformations of materials.” His voice came out with an underlining huskiness, the smokey octave sending chills up the girls arms. “You got that?” This time around, the girl found herself genuinely lost at the explanation, which resulted in the next encounter.

“Not exactly?” She nervously mumbled. “I’m still kinda’ confused.” The girl breathed out, hand gripping the edge of the males desk with anxiety. He must think I’m vapid.

She felt the air in her lungs being sucked out as she breathlessly gasped, Matt’s larger hand reaching out to mold atop of her smaller one. “That’s alright, yeah?” He muttered, feeling his own heart pick up in pace as he studied the anxiety ridden girl who stood aside him. “I’ll just have to do a better job explaining, hm?” She watched as he cocked his head, eyes flicking across her features as he awaited her gesture of agreement.

Instead, the girl felt herself in a lustrous state of mind, unable to stop the way her eyes trail their way to the hand that gripped her one hand. Her heart palpitated at the mere sight of the protruding veins that trailed across his large, slim hand.

The rings glittered in her eyes as the sun came through the window opposite to the two, glimmering against his perfectly fair skin.

Matt, immediately noticing the girls trance, doesn’t rush to remind her of her lack of response, instead watching silently as she used her thumb to trace one of the more prominent veins in the back of his hand. “Physical chemistry.” Matt’s lips parted as he watched the girls eyes flick from his hand to his eyes, pupils having doubled in size. “What’s the best way to explain that?” She murmured, tilting her head with a hint of innocence.

Within the girls peripheral vision she spots Matt’s opposite hand flinch from its balled place on the desk, almost as if he was stopping himself from reaching out. “I think it’d be easier if I were to just..” Both of the girls eyebrows of draw together with confusion, simultaneously being startled as Matt Sturniolo’s ring clad hand reaches out, and entraps the left side of her waist with a gentle, yet affirming grip “-show you.” He breathes out the second half of his sentence, his long fingers resting against Y/n’s back, his thumb gently pressing against her navel from the outside the blush-pink camisole.

She feels her jaw go slack while looking down at him, feeling her chest tighten with nerves as the warmth of his gaze roams along the girls facial features and expression.

Not that Matt would ever openly admit it, but he was most definitely gouging how the girl would react to the assorted touches he could offer her. “Matt..” The man feels his lips curve at the corners hearing her wary tone.

He decides to offer a gentle hum, his bottom lip feeding into his mouth with a small grunt. “What’re doing?” She whispered in that voice. The tone that had Matt going borderline crazy. Feeling Matthew’s hand mold around the dip of her waist, the girl spotted a darkness in the abyss of blue in his eyes as she emitted a small gasp.

His free hand slowly ran over his jaw, before chuckling. The girl feels her heart pick up at the husky chuckle coming from triplets mouth, her hand gripping the edge of his desk with more force. “Nothing, doll.” He mutters, whilst shaking his head dismissively.

The hand against her waist didn’t budge, as if Matt was in a trance by the sight of his hand, gripping her waist. Y/n feels her body immediately tense as his eyes lifted hers, and even if the male had caught the slight action that came from the girl, he didn’t pay mind to it. “Growing up, did teachers consider you audible learner? Or a more of a visual learner?”

As Matt’s soft voice drifted off into a undertone, the girl was abruptly startled with a loud yelp, as he waits no time for her response, instead use the hand that pressed into her side to nudge her onto the hard surface of Matt’s thigh. “Hm?” He hummed against her ear.

The feeling of his breath grazing her neck had the girls short and soft breaths, hitching in her throat. Goosebumps trickled over the flesh of her arms, the small hairs on the back of her neck flying up with anticipation. “Matt.” She whispered softly, the small whimper that came her lips gracing the boys ears, as she felt his smirk against her neck.

The bridge of his nose grazed along the span between her ear and neck, and as he came to the realization of their current condition, he feels his heart drop to his stomach. “Shit.” He whispered to himself, feeling the girl tense in his hold.

What was he doing? He thought to himself. Matt wasn’t like this- he was furthest thing from it. “I have no fuckin’ clue what’s wrong with me.” Matt quickly rushed out, and the girls back who brushes his front, feels the now pattering of his heart. “I’m really fucking sorry, Y/n.” He rambled.

Realizing the inner panic the male was currently experiencing, she felt a sense of guilt run through her blood. Did she do something wrong? Maybe I was too heavy to sit on his lap. The worrisome feeling she felt for Matt took over her mind, shifting in his lap she attempted to face him.

Matt audibly drew in a hitched breath as the girl shuffled around on his lap, his eyes dropping and seeing both of he girls perfect thighs on either side of his lap. The hem of her skirt flowed beneath his spread thighs, and just at the mere sight, he forces his eyes to the ceiling. Lord, give me the strength to not fuck this girl over my desk.

“Hey- you’re good. Honestly.” Matt shakes his head a murmuring something unknown under his breath, his heart skipping a beat as she tips his chin in my her direction. “Calm down, nothings wrong.” She assured him, nodding.

The boy mimics her movements, slowly nodding along. As the girl realizes her current stance, on top of Matthew Sturniolo’s lap, she finds herself become overtaken with embarrassment.

“I’m just gonna..” Matt trailed his words off into a whisper, before Y/n felt her wobbly frame being steadied by a large hand gently gripping her waist. Matthew feels the small flyaways of hair from her braided pigtails, that rested against her back, lightly tickle his cheeks as she looked down at him.

The twos eyes were aligned with a starstruck contact, and though they both attempted to cover their nervousness with a plain expression, they both felt the same desire for each other. The girl hears a small hiss come from the boys lips, her cheeks immediately flushing as she realizes it was because she had just barely moved from her place in his lap.

Simultaneously, she felt her self esteem plummeting as the first thought she had was that she must’ve been heavy on his lap. The mere thought had a frown upon the girls nipped at lips.

Matt, immediately noticing the upside down smile, felt his eyebrows draw together with both wary and curiousity at the sudden switch of the girls mood. “I’ll get up.” She musters weakly, desperately trying to keep her line of sight on the horse chain that was woven around his neck, simply unable to meet his blazing ones.

Seeing as Matt wanted to find out what was happening, or what had gone wrong, he opened his lips to ask the burning question, is everything fine? Is what he would’ve asked, that was until the girl decided to take then of all times, to shift her hips forward as a failed attempt to loosen herself from his grasp.

“Fuck.”

Y/n found her jaw dropping, as the obscene sound came from Matt’s lips. Did I hurt him? She wondered, heart beating painfully in her chest. The girls eyes, still, previously glossy from the prior interaction, blink down at the dark haired man’s current state. Matt’s head was now tipped back against the of his seat, chest moving up and down while is eyes fluttered shut. “Sorry- did I hurt you?” Her nose wrinkling with embarrassment.

At the sound of the nymph’s tantalizing voice, Matt’s eyes lulled open. He felt his adams apple bob at the sight of the girl straddling his lap, looking down at him with widened eyes that would’ve looked absolutely pornographic to any other man.

Though the triplet knew she was genuinely perplexed. As well as him, she couldn’t force her eyes from the boy beneath her. With every inhale he took Y/n spotted the muscles in his shoulders bulge through the black T-shirt, Ransom, embroidered onto the chest. His blue eyes had sunken down with an inner darkness, though still glancing up at her through his eyelashes.

Matt’s eyes open with a shaky breath, offering the girl a small shake of the head. “No.” Be breathes out, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he looked up at Y/n. “Just maybe- don’t do that again?” He says as more of a recommendation then a statement, voice deep in an undertone.

The girl takes beat before the realization came over her. “Oh.” She whispered, her cheeks splashing with warmth.

Matt sees this, feeling his lips curve into a smirk, whilst simultaneously using every bone in his body to ignore the girls pulsing heat resting directly on the now very obvious tent of the carpenter jeans he wore.

“Oh.” He repeated in mockery, chuckling lightly.

Even with the heatwave of tension that was currently taking over the boy, he still battled through the almost nauseating warmth coursing through his body, to observe the girl’s reactions and movements. The way her hips would shift atop the growing hardness beneath her needy, clothed cunt, or the small lewd sounds that would occasionally emit from her parted lips.

Or the way he audibly heard the girls breath hitch at his next action, Matthew’s arm swinging around the head of his hair, leaning the weight of his body onto the surface to find a comfortable position for his aching lower half. She immediately gasps, two hands flying out to grip each side of the head of the chair.

It was as if the ball of need inside her abdomen had built by ten, the fluttering sensation she felt between her legs never coming to an end as she felt her thighs attempt to clench. This, of course, failed. “You alright doll?” Matt watched the girls face morph into a pained expression at the realization that she was unable to alleviate the desperation building within her core.

Both knees sit on either side of the triplets thighs, acting as a barrier between hers, as she tightened her legs to close them together. As if she was unable to form a coherent sentence, Y/n offered a curt nod while forcing her hazy gaze anywhere but his face. “I didn’t quite catch that, speak up..” The hand on her waist was suddenly gripping my jaw and tipping my chin up. “I can’t hear you from down there.” He taunts, eyes twinkling with an unknown objective.

Y/n found her completely struck with whiplash at the sudden switch up of his body language. Once soft toned, with a timid persona that came across as shyness, now completely morphed into a dominant character.

Feeling her eyelashes feather against the no doubt, pink tinted skin of her cheeks, she blinked down at the triplet as her eyes went round. “I-I didn’t-” She whimpered and cut herself off as Matt’s eyes bored into hers with a blazing darkness beneath the soft facade.

Matt lifted his one brow, waiting for the trembling girl to go in with her sentence. As silence fills the room, Matt sighed softly. “That’s no good, huh?” He tutted in a condescending manner, head tipping to the side in a cock as he leered up at her.

As if the air in her lungs tore away from her, Y/n’s silent streak was very short lived, much to her dismay. “Fuck.” She cried, the hands that rested on the head of his chair slipping down to grip his shoulders. Matt yet again, lifted his hips against hers, though this time it made it abundantly evident that it was purposeful.

Matt felt as if his body wasn’t in his own control, the will of being able to contain the desperate urge of tainting the girls innocence, long gone. He whispered small curses and whimpers to himself as his head tipped back, his body on the closest thing to autopilot, feeling his hips roll up into the girls core.

The barrier of clothing between the two bodies did close to nothing at stopping the friction between the girls beating heat, and the triplets painfully, aching erection.“Matt,” Y/n swallowed the lump she felt in her throat, taking a momentary break to emit the small whine from the feeling of the ridge of Matt’s hard cock pushing against her clit. “-slow- slow down.” Matt feels his body begin to warm with a fuzzy sensation against his heart, as the worked up girls head fell onto his shoulder, cooing to himself softly at the sound of her soft pants.

The feeling of his stronger hand that had gripped her waist faltered away, before she felt the cold silver of his rings pressing into her cheek as he gently tipped her jaw up. “Hm? What was that?” He taunted for what seemed like the fifth time, his index and middle finger patting the girls cheek.

At that, Y/n felt herself grounding her hips onto him, making her feel like a complete and utter mess. It wasn’t necessary a slap, but she would’ve definitely considered it more than a gentle tap.

The irregular pattern of Matthew’s hips rolling into her core left her breathless, frustrated as he would abruptly slow down, leaving her desperate for more, before suddenly rutting his hard on into her needy heat. “Please.” She pleaded against his neck, the few tears of desperation finally falling.

Matt, feeling the salty wetness running down the span of his jaw and neck, felt a sense of pride. He wouldn’t consider himself a sadist, or anything along the lines of finding himself turned on by inflicting pain onto others. But there was something so profound and satisfying, seeing how the girl was falling apart to pieces, in his arms, because of him.

Feeling Y/n’s body move at a faster pace than normal as she inhaled and exhaled, Matt tipped his head down and allowed the tip of his nose to graze along the junction between her jaw and neck, leaving a soft peck against the dewy skin. “Cmon’ now.” He placed both hands on either side of her hips, effortlessly lifting her bottom half, groaning as he helped her move her hips along his cock.

This action immediately had her exhausted body, that had fell against his chest awakening like fireworks blooming across a dark sky. “Matt.” He grunted against her neck, though the recognition of hearing the girl saying the triplets name went unanswered, seeing as she just needed to know that he was there.

Cause of course he was there physically, very much so. It was more that she yearned to have him cherish the moment she fell apart in his arms.

To run his slim fingers through her now tangled hair as she bit down onto his shoulder, feeling a whole new wave of arousal come over her as she hears his whimper at the action. Y/n felt his two warm hands comfortingly squeeze the backs of her thighs, as a silent gesture that he had understood the girls feelings. “Sorry baby.” He whispered against her neck, heavily breathing as she felt his erection pulse between her legs.

She felt Matt’s right hand begin to glide up her waist, stopping anywhere and every where on the journey up to mold his grip against, reminding himself that the current event was actually happening. The hand slipped around one of her braids, two of the other fingers pressing against the back of her neck as he tugged her head up to look into his dark gaze.

“Have I been ignoring you? My greedy girl needs a little more attention, hm?” His tone was condensing and mean, making her breathe out a small moan. “Oh?” He mused, seeing the bob of her head. “That’s my fault, huh? My apologies sweetheart. It’s hard to decipher what you really want when you’re grinding on my dick, like a bitch in heat.” He murmured softly.

The contrast of his tone and words were striking. The words spoken were filthy, sounding like a sin flowing from his tongue. But the tone, the tone was soft and gentle, melodic with a gentle touch of sweet innocence lulling from his perfectly bitten at lips.

The piercing ends of the girls pink nails dug into Matthew’s shoulders, resulting a small whimper emitting from his lips, intermittently tearing down the wall of dominance he’d had up. The lack of relief she so desperately wanted, or rather now needed, wasn’t being fulfilled, making her eyes glisten with tears of frustration. Even science wasn’t this hard.

Pun intended.

Y/n let out a pathetic moan against his neck, too far into the rabbit whole of pleasure that was Matthew Sturniolo, continuing to roll her hips into his. “You.” She breathed against his neck. Matt hummed in response, squeezing her hips.

“Hm?”

Blinking away the haziness in her eyes to look up at his clearly. “I want you.” At that, Matt thrusted his hips up into her dripping core with a guttural moan.

You. Him. Matt.

She wanted him, and even though he’d already known this from the time her needy cunt had landed on his clothed dick, hearing it come from her lips, in that angelic fucking voice, had brought him closer to his release ten times faster. “I know, doll. I know.” He breathed out, Y/n watching his head as it fell back against his seat whilst his blue eyes fluttered shut.

Matt uses his one hand that rested on her backside, to gently guide her lower half forward into his painfully hard erection, emitting small whimpers while doing so. The way he felt her pulsing heat through both of their clothed bottom halves told him that she was getting closer to her relief, bringing him to his faster. “Close?” He murmured against her neck.

She could only offer a moan as a reply, shivering as his breath fluttered against her pulse as a warm breeze during dusk. Matt’s fingers toyed with the hem of her pleated skirt as she grounded down onto the prominent tent in his jeans, trying to distract himself from coming before the girl.

After all, he always was a gentleman.

“Fuck.” Y/n whispered against the shell of his ear in a small cry, and Matt felt his stomach tighten at the feeling of her thighs trembling on either side of his. As the male was partially to deep into his own pleasure, all he was able to do was run his one hand down the small of her back, as he soothed her through the overwhelming pressure of her release.

Y/n heard the small cures and whimpers that emitted from Matt’s lips, and even as the overwhelming sensation of her past release was still overcoming her body, she did her best to comfort the triplet as well as she mustered. “So good.” She murmured against the shell of his ear, panting softly. “You’re doing so good, Matt.”

Fuck, his eyes rolled back as well has the ball in his abdomen had suddenly tensed. “Shit.” He whimpered, squeezing the backs of her thighs. “Gonna’ come.” He breathed out, making Y/n hum softly against the nape of his neck.

I’m here. We’re both here. Together.

Y/n glided her nails against his scalp as he rode out the aftermath of his release, whispering sweet nothings in his ears at the feeling of his hard thighs trembling against hers. “Holy fuck.” He breathed out, tipping his head back with a soft grunt. “I’m so happy I decided to be a dick on this exact day.” Y/n’s head lifted a bit, lifting an eyebrow.

Was he serious?

The two both jumped at the sound of a blaring bell, as well as coming to reality of what they’d both just done. Their eyes tuned into each others, lips parted with shock at their own actions. Y/n cleared her throat, sitting up a bit as her cheeks flushed. “Good luck with the test.” She muttered, tilting her head.

Matt drew his lips into a line, ignoring the urge to smile at the girls words. “Best wishes with that whole- Demi Moore ordeal.” Her shoulders fell.

Men.

୨ৎ 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 ~ @graysturns @imwetforyourmom

#chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #writers on tumblr #fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #fluff #smut #idk what else to tag

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storiesofsvu · 26 days

Text

Decadent Desires Ch 18

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, post vacation blues, smut, some minor hurt/comfort, mentions of some toxic family behaviour. It's another long one and I am not upset lol. 6.6k

Showering was always the first priority after a vacation, especially after such a long flight. It didn’t matter how hungry you were, how tired you were or how much mail was piled up inside your door, you needed to feel clean. That and the rare times you’d stopped to do something else first you’d get distracted with too many tasks, run two loads of laundry and get in the shower to find all the hot water gone for the night. That was a risk you never wanted to take again.

Choosing the coziest pair of sweatpants and a worn tee you towel dried your hair as you wandered through the upstairs. When you dropped the towel back in the bathroom you were met with your reflection and your nose immediately crinkled, you definitely didn’t have the energy to blow dry your hair right now and suddenly the lack of Emily and her braiding skills was on the top of your mind. You figured a loose ponytail wasn’t going to hurt that much and would at least keep it off your face for the next couple of hours.

Laundry was the next task, make sure all those swim suits were properly cleaned and dried out, any and all sand, sunscreen and sweat were washed away from all your clothes. You heaved your suitcase onto the bed, hamper beside you to get started when you unzipped your bag to find a surprise sitting on top. At first you thought it must have been something from the resort a ‘book your next trip now and save’ coupon or something but curiosity still got the best of you. Your finger slid through the envelope’s seal and a small piece of carboard fell out, something cold on the other side of it sitting in your palm. Flipping it over you found a dainty, incredibly gorgeous pair of starfish earrings and your breath caught in your throat. They were stunning, rose gold and diamonds compiled together for the absolute perfect surprise. A small note inside to go along with them:

‘A gift. For an incredible eleven days. Can’t wait to do it again, Em.’

It was hard to contain the smile on your cheeks as you bounced on your toes, the same sparkle of warmth flowing through your veins as twenty hours ago. You tucked the note into the corner of your mirror, adding the earrings to the top of your jewelry box to be worn at the first opportunity.

Straight back to work was the only way you were going to dive back into things, even if it was utterly exhausting and your sleep schedule had seen far better days. You didn’t want to behind, you needed to be completely caught up and know exactly what move was coming next in order to do you job properly and make sure everything ran smoothly. You’d been prepared for that, what you weren’t fully prepared for was an out of office day, SUV’s leaving the District for an event in Virigina. At the very least you didn’t have to be the one driving.

You were in the back of a car with Heather, your gaze held out the window as you watched the barren trees fly by on the highway. You were aware she was speaking and while it took a little bit to process, you were pretty sure you were picking up everything she was putting down. She continued to talk, glancing up from her phone to catch you looking almost longingly out the window and she let out a soft sigh, putting her phone down.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” She asked.

Without moving an inch or glancing toward her you replied, “kiss and make nice with Durant over lunch as per usual, you want an official statement regarding bill 8940 made by five tonight and social media posts done. One regarding the rally today one encouraging voter registration and one promoting the banquet next month.”

“I do not know how you do that.” She muttered with a small laugh, watching for another moment as your shoulders slumped deeper. “You seem down, are you alright?”

You sighed, finally pulling yourself away from the window and drooping down into the seat, looking over to her, “I just got back from two weeks in a very expensive tropical paradise and you’ve got me sludging around in the wet and freezing weather all the way out in Charlottesville. What do you think?” Reaching forward you picked up your coffee mug, taking a hefty swig, “it’s just the post vacation depression. Even the coffee tastes like crap now. Maybe I got too much sun…”

“I take it you had fun then?”

“Heat, it’s the fucking Maldives, who goes there and doesn’t have a good time.” You laughed, “I already want to use up the rest of my vacation days.”

It was Heather’s turn to laugh as she picked up her own coffee, “like hell I’m letting you take off a whole three and half months in one go.”

“Rude.” You replied, feigning a pout, “and here I was thinking I was your favourite.”

She chuckled softly, watching as you sighed again similarly to the way a pet would that made it seemed they were shouldering all the world’s problems when in reality they just had to shift the position they were napping in again. With your gaze back out the window, a near frown on your lips Heather found her own curving up into a soft smile. Sure, the vacation blues could be a bitch, especially with chillier weather like this, but she was certain she had an idea that this was more than that, even if you hadn’t realized it yet.

“Emily experiencing the same lack of sun mood swings?”

“Hmm?” You didn’t even turn from the window.

“Emily…”

“Oh, uh, not sure.” You glanced over to her, your fingers picking at the cuff of your coat, “they got blindsided with a pretty big case as soon as we got back. She mentioned something about it crossing over multiple teams so I’m sure she’s pretty distracted.”

“When are you seeing her next?”

“Was supposed to be tomorrow night, but she cancelled once she got into the office this morning, they’re too slammed and she didn’t want to end up standing me up.”

Heather caught the way your face fell ever so briefly, how you turned your phone around in your hand to see the screen, as if you were willing a new text to appear saying the case was solved and Emily had all the time in the world.

“Once you’re done with that statement, take the car, swing by Quantico on your way back. I’ll ride with Cynthia.”

“What about Durant?”

“I think I can handle her,” Heather chuckled, “besides, you need a break.”

“I’m just tired.” You repeated, “you know how long jetlag fucks me up. My body thinks its past dinner time and I’ve barely woken up. I’ll grab another coffee and power through.”

Her lips pursed, “I’m not asking. I’m telling. Jetlag or not, you need a break.” She took a sip of her drink, “you’re starting to act like a preschooler who refuses to nap. I’m giving you the opportunity now take it.”

“Yes mother.” You replied dryly, giving her a sarcastic salute before dropping your empty cup back into the holder.

“Thank you.” She smiled, a few meters of road going by before you spoke again.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to just drop in unexpected?”

“Say you were in the area and stopped for lunch.” She shrugged, “it’s not a lie. You know she has a habit of working through hers and figured you’d pick up extra and now you’ll get out of her hair. If she’s busy enough, she’ll walk you out, if she has the time, she’ll tell you to stay. Honey, trust me, her job is a lot more political and full of paperwork than you imagine, or than she wants it to be. You’ll be a nice respite in an otherwise tedious day.”

“If I end up looking like an idiot, you’re buying me dinner.”

“Fair enough.” She chuckled, her eye catching something glinting in the low light and her head tilted, hand reaching out, pinching at your ear as she shifted the gem between her fingers. “Are those starfishes?”

“Yeah.” You felt your cheeks heat, “figured they were small enough I could get away with them at work.”

“Huh.” She clicked her tongue, “you know, Becca used to be obsessed with this mermaid show where starfish earrings whispered things to them all the time. She didn’t have her ears pierced so she’d put stickers on them and try to get out of doing chores or homework because they told her she was too pretty for housework and smart enough already.” She scoffed, “ridiculous. The entire thing.”

Her phone pinged and her attention was lost as a small smile crept onto your cheeks, your finger tracing the small jewels in your ear. It wasn’t worth enough to tell her you used to watch Aquamarine with Becca when you babysat and you definitely weren’t going to let her know you’d been the provider of said stickers.

It wasn’t that it felt wrong to be in Emily’s office, its that it was almost a little unsettling to be in there alone, phone in your hand as you paced through the room distracting yourself with emails. Anyone could pop through the door at any moment and you highly doubted any of them would know who you were, maybe it was something in your gut that said it was a little weird. You’d been hoping she would just be behind her desk when you were guided to the office and with each moment that went by it felt like your acid reflux was getting worse and you were certain this was a terrible idea. The longer she was gone the longer she stuck doing other things and would turn you away the second she saw you.

“Hi, Agent Prentiss, what can I d—” Emily’s voice rung through the room, commanding yet welcoming before she stalled suddenly, the hand she had extended out to greet her visitor dropping to her side. You froze in your step, looking up at her with a small smile and she let out a huff, “oh thank god, it’s you.”

The tension in her body melted away, a smile of relief spreading across her face as she swung the door shut behind her, flicking the lock. While her team was good at not interrupting phone calls or surprise meetings the other agents working with them seemed a bit more on the unhinged side, she could use five minutes of peace. She stepped toward you, wrapping her arms around you and you sunk into the embrace, warmth flowing through you at the feel of her lips on your cheek.

“Is that new shampoo?” She asked, pulling back and you laughed.

“I guess it’s safe to say I was the only one who snagged a few extra toiletries?”

Emily laughed, her hand trailing down your arm before squeezing at yours. “What’re you doing here? Seems a little far out of your jurisdiction.”

“We had an event in Charlottesville,” you shrugged, hesitancy still evident in your voice as Emily moved around her desk, slipping her blazer off to toss over her chair. “I knew you were busy, probably working through lunch so I figured you might need a little pick me up.” You gestured to the coffee table where the large bag of food along with sodas sat, “and now that I know that you know the food’s here, I’ll get outta your hair.”

“Hey, no!” Emily immediately stepped out from around her desk as her hand reached toward you, “I’m sure you need to eat too, and you cannot leave me alone with these motherfuckers.”

You laughed, harder than you’d meant to, “your team driving you wild?”

“Not them, well, not really.” She huffed, “they’re usually pretty good at being self managed but these guys working with us, Jeeze, it’s like herding fucking cats who are all distracted by their own laser pointers. Not only did you bring food, but I’ll always have some time to take a break if you show up here.”

Emily stepped back toward you, her hand grabbing yours pulling you closer to her and the moment she inhaled your stolen shampoo again it was as if she was transported back to the Maldives. Warm air wafting around both of you, memories of being buried between your legs. Your lips brushed against the side of her jaw, a small chuckle coming from between them.

“Seems like food isn’t the only thing you need. Want me to pull the fire alarm, make a distraction?”

Her hands wandered down your sides, fingertips slipping under the hem of your blouse and your breath caught in your throat. “I can think of something else that’ll work just as well.” She had never been happier that she’d actually decided to lock her door. Leaning in she kissed your neck, nose nudging at your chin to tilt your head back so she had full access. You let out a quiet moan, your hand tangling into the roots of her hair.

“Oh please,” you laughed softly, barely able to keep your thoughts straight as she started to grope at your chest, “you’re not actually going to fuck me in your office.”

She pulled her head up from the crook of your neck, watching the way your eyes darkened as she pinched your nipples through the fabric. Her eyes flicked from yours over to the shut blinds, it was lunch, the bull pen was quiet, “think again.” Her lips met yours briefly and you practically mewled when she pulled away, chasing her lips for another one and she chuckled, “seems like you could use a little pick me up.”

You were almost ashamed of just how quickly you turned to putty in her hands, your mouth dry as she kissed and sucked her way up and down your neck, her hands continuing to toy with your chest. You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together, sparks already flying through you, wetness seeping out of your pussy. Whether it was your libido, still used to the quantity of vacation sex or an unknown kink making its way through at the thought of getting caught in a promiscuous situation, you weren’t entirely sure.

Emily grabbed at your ass, rolling your hips against hers and you let out a small noise that made her weak in the knees. One of her hands fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, her nose bumping with yours, gaining your attention when you opened your eyes.

“This alright?” She asked and you immediately nodded, a little too eagerly as your teeth sunk into your lower lip to keep yourself quiet. She chuckled darkly, the hand tickling up your inner thigh, cupping your pussy through your panties, a groan on her lips at the damp fabric. Instinctively you leaned against her desk, your legs opening for her to get a better angle, “that’s it… spread your legs for me.” Her hand tapped at your cunt and you shuddered, “now, these are in the way…”

Fingers slipping into your panties she tugged them off to the side, making sure they were secure and not blocking her from what she really wanted.

“Be a good girl and stay nice and quiet for me.” She husked, her lips meeting the side of your neck again and you let out a muffled squeak. Her hand tapped your pussy again and your hips rocked toward the touch, you could feel wetness building between your legs. “God you always get so fucking wet when your pretty pussy gets slapped. Too bad we’re on a short leash,” she nipped at your earlobe, “would love to get some nice hard, loud spanks in, see if you could come just like this.” Her hand swatted against you again, staying pressed into your cunt, fingers rubbing between your folds and your body shivered.

“Em.. please…”

“Don’t worry princess.” Her free hand cupped your cheek, kissing you softly and you melted against her, “I just want to thank you for lunch, promise I’ll be quick.”

Without a second thought Emily sunk to her knees in front of you, shoving your skirt up around your hips and her mouth dove in between your legs. You immediately covered your mouth with your hand, eyes scrunching shut as her tongue lapped through you. It felt like she hadn’t touched you in months, that there were endless weeks of pent up frustration, desire and need between you and this was the only time you were getting to release them. You dropped against her desk when her mouth wrapped around your clit, your pussy pulsing around nothing. A silent beg left your lips in the form of a gasp and Emily was quick to answer it, knowing there was a very high chance you were both short on time. Burying her face between your legs she sucked as much of your juices as she could, wishing she had longer to savour your taste. Moving her mouth up, she latched around your clit, tongue flicking against it while she sunk two fingers into your waiting cunt.

“Fuck…” you whispered, teeth sinking deeper into your lip as your clawed at the edge of her desk with your other hand.

She knew you too well now, knew your movements, your noises and just where to curl her fingers inside you, exactly how to drag the tip of her tongue over your throbbing clit. Wetness was dripping down her hand and she could feel you shuddering against the desk, her free hand reached up, swiftly finding yours and you interlocked your fingers. Her thumb stroked over your knuckles, a soothing and non verbal way to both check in with you and remind you that she wanted you to come, needed to get you to your release and be as relaxed as you could be during a busy work day.

Your back arched as your body stiffened, your hand clutching so tight on hers she was certain she was about to lose feeling in it as your muffled moans barely echoed past your lips. Pleasure soaring through you, your entire body felt electrified, your fingers dropping Emily’s as she gently licked you through it, cleaning up what mess she could. Your hand dropped from your mouth once you were certain you could control your volume.

“Jesus fuck.” You muttered and she laughed softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh.

Emily straightened your underwear back into the right place and neatly pulled your skirt back down, smoothing at the fabric as she stood back up. An arm wound around your waist, her hand softly tickling at the small of your back as you caught your breath and she leant in to steal a quick kiss.

“Good girl.” She kissed the corner of your mouth, “you alright?”

“Totally.” You replied with a soft smile that she returned, crossing the office to grab a couple of water bottles from the mini fridge. With a relaxed sigh you redirected your gaze to the small mirror on the wall beside her desk, perching on the side of it as you began to fix your mussed hair and lipstick.

It was right as she went to speak again, to mention getting some actual food in your mouths that the world’s fastest knock came from the other side of her door, immediately followed by a thud and a muffled ‘ow’.

Emily dropped the bottles of water on her desk, skillfully grabbing a mint in the same movement before sweeping through the room to flick the lock and step back from the flying open door.

“Sorry, force of habit.” She explained with a shrug, “these guys always barge in when I’m on with the Director.”

“No worries Chief Prentiss.” An all too familiar voice replied, rolling out his shoulders from the body check to the door and your head whipped over your shoulder, your eyes widening at the sight of Tony in the doorway, “I think we’ve got a lead with that hotel over on thirteenth….”

His voice trailed off as his eyes swept through the office, not only did he not realize she had company he certainly hadn’t expected it to be someone he knew. His head tilted at the way you were in the process of fixing your lipstick with a Kleenex, a piece of your hair very uncharacteristically out of place. His eyes darted through the room quickly, taking in the messy file folders on Emily’s desk and the untouched take out on the coffee table before looking back to you and a knowing smirk broke out on his lips, a mix of a growling and purring sound coming from his mouth.

“Ooo, meow.” Your head titled in disappointment, Emily’s in confusion and when she made a sound his eyes shot back to her and he remembered where he was, clearing his throat with a cough, straightening his shoulders, “ah..uh.” He let out a huff of a laugh and his mouth immediately slammed shut at the steely cold glare you shot him and he swallowed, trying not to stumble over his words. “Uh, Lewis and I were gonna go check it out.”

“Great.” Emily replied with a nod, “touch base if you find anything and don’t be afraid to call for back up. Thanks DiNozzo.”

“Course boss.” He gave a little salute, lingering in the doorway as his gaze landed back on you, eyes flicking up and down your form before he quirked a brow in Emily’s direction, “Emily…huh.” With a small chuckle on his lips he finally left, swinging the door shut behind him.

“What the fuck…” Emily muttered, looking up to you when a small laugh burst from between your lips, stifled by the hand covering your mouth. “What was that? I mean yeah, you’re hot and he’ll flirt with anything with pulse but I’m pretty sure he’s harmless.”

A louder laugh broke free from your mouth as you dropped your hand, “you’re not wrong there.”

“Wait, you know him?” Her brow furrowed as you nodded.

“He’s quite the lingerie connoisseur.”

“Have you slept with him?” Emily asked, attempting to keep the jealous tone out of her voice, relief flooding through her at the absolute look of horror that washed across your face.

“God no! We’ve been friends for like twenty years. Even if I wanted to he’s so in love with one of his team mates he’s tunnel blind, despite the fact that neither of them will ever admit it.”

“Then what was with that reaction to you being in here?” She asked, picking the water bottles back up and passing one to you.

“Uh, he’s got a really good sense of fashion, I usually drag him along with me when I go shopping, he picked out the teal set with the Swarovski.” You explained with a shrug, “that first time you gave me your card he knew it wasn’t business related so it clearly wasn’t Heather’s and started asking questions. I promise you I never once mentioned your name! He started playing twenty questions, I said you outranked NCIS so he could shut the fuck up about it, then he kept pestering and teasing about me being a sugar baby and… Heather, may have dropped your first name before the trip so I’m assuming he’s put all that together now… including why the door was locked.”

Emily nodded, the beginning of a laugh on her cheeks when her brow furrowed suddenly, “oh fuck!”

“He’s not gonna tell anyone!” You insisted, stepping toward her to squeeze at her elbow, “he’s a tease and an annoying little shit, but he knows how to keep his mouth shut. Especially considering I’ll cut his balls off if he doesn’t.”

“No.” She laughed, reaching for her phone “I completely forgot to pay you.”

It was your turn to be confused, glancing to the untouched lunch and back to her, “this wasn’t exactly planned, I just wanted to drop by and I mean… I already got more than I came for.” Your lips twitched up.

“Not for today, for the Maldives.” Emily explained and you felt your stomach flip flop.

“You don’t need to pay me for that.”

“It was eleven days straight together; I think you deserve compensation.”

“Em, the vacation was the treat.” You squeezed at her hand, “you do not need to pay me twice.”

“You sure?” She asked, her thumb hovering over her phone screen.

“That hotel was what, minimum five grand a night?” You asked and she nodded, “then yeah, I’m more than sure.”

Before she could really try to protest any further or twist it over in her brain to confuse herself even more her desk phone went off, shrill ring echoing through the room and she let out a tired sigh, gesturing to the couch. “Sit, stay, we still need to eat. Just give me a minute.”

“Course.” You shot her a tight smile, your hands smoothing the back of your skirt neatly before sitting down on the couch and tugging out your phone.

Multitasking was nothing new to Emily, the receiver pinched between her ear and shoulder as she picked up a pen to scribble down a couple of notes, occasionally giving a bit of feedback here or there while she let her eyes wander over to the couch.

You had slouched down into it so far that your shoulders were up by your ears, a tight frown on your lips as you stared at your phone. The previous mask of showing up to do a good deed with the intent of spreading a bit of relief and happiness to the other woman completely gone. The blue light blaring from your phone pronounced the bags under your eyes and the way you had just started chewing on your lip told her that you were far less relaxed than the last time she’d seen you. Keeping an eye on you she continued the call, watching you swipe back and forth between drafting an email and your text chain with someone. Every single time a text banner popped up at the top of the email screen you’d either huff or roll your eyes, attempting to ignore it until you were satisfied with the email and hit send, swiping back over. Your jaw tightened, no doubt grinding your molars together as tension began to build through your entire body, your thumbs furiously typing out a reply.

Emily watched as you closed the text chain, taking a deep breath, briefly closing your eyes in an attempt to reset your focus before reopening your email. You were about a third of the way through drafting the email when another three texts came through and you let out an exasperated grunt, your phone making a low flip through the air before landing on the other end of the couch and you dug through your bag to pull out what she assumed to be your work phone. Whoever was hassling you clearly didn’t have that number as you were easily able to finish the email on it and ignore the intermittent buzzing from more texts. Eventually your personal phone starting vibrating with a call, threatening to leap off the side of the couch and you grabbed it at the last minute, picking up with your voice low as to not interrupt Emily.

“What?” You hissed, then let out an angry huff, pinching at the bridge of your nose, “I am at work! I already told you that and I will call you when I get home.” You hit the end call button and immediately powered off the device, burying it in the depths of your purse before dropping back against the couch to finish the second email.

At first Emily had been wondering if it was DiNozzo, firing off teasing text after text, taunting you about being in the BAU Section Chief’s office all alone on lunch break. But the way she could tell the absolute frustration and anger was building up deep in your body all the way to your bones, stiffening every muscle, it was worse than that. Not to mention he definitely knew you weren’t at work. It also clearly wasn’t a work issue if they couldn’t get a hold of you through that phone.

You finished the email, gently placing the device down on the coffee table and bracing your elbows on your knees, your hands running over your face as you took a couple of deep breaths. Now finalizing details of her own conversation Emily couldn’t quite tell if you were fighting off the urge to throw your phone out the window, or if you were biting back tears. What she did know was that either way, she didn’t like it and whoever was making you feel this way was the one who deserved to be thrown out the window.

Hanging up the phone she rounded the desk, crossing the room as she took a seat beside you.

“Hey… you okay?”

“Hm?” You nearly jumped at how close she was when you pulled your head out of your hands.

“I asked if you were okay?” She repeated softly, her hand sliding across the couch toward you, changing her tactic in hopes you might open up, “kinda skipped the whole aftercare part today…”

“No! no, Em, that was perfect.” You assured her, your hand darting out to squeeze at hers, “I’m fine. Jetlag and I just aren’t exactly friends, it’s thrown everything off and made me a little moody. Kinda been out of it since we got back.” With a sigh you leant forward, finally ripping open the take out bag.

“Yeah.” She replied, biting at her lip, “something does almost feel like it’s missing.” She accepted a container of chicken chow mein and a fork from you as you opened your own container.

“Could have something to do with the lack of sunshine and ocean air.”

“Very true.” She laughed, taking a few bites of food, letting out a groan of appreciation over how much better it tasted than cafeteria food.

You scooped up a couple of shrimp, managing to shovel them into your mouth, chewing for probably too long before reaching for your soda. What normally would have been a comfortable silence filled the room, but you were still radiating tension and Emily was worried, especially when after two more mouthfuls of food you seemed to be spending more time staring into the counter stabbing shrimp as if they were the ones blowing up your phone.

“Hey…” she reached out slowly, her hand resting on your knee before she squeezed it. Your fork stopped moving but she caught the way your shoulder tensed up, refusing to look up at her yet “I promise you; I make a very hard habit to not profile the people in my personal life but you caught me at work, in full profiler mode and something’s clearly up… talk to me…”

With a sigh you leant forward, placing down your lunch and you shifted on the couch, pulling one leg up under you so you were turned more toward her. You gave her a look, your lips pursing off to the side and her head tilted, a knowing almost glare in her eye.

“And don’t you dare tell me you’re just tired. That may be a contributing factor here, but whoever’s on the other side of that phone,” she gestured to your purse, “is clearly causing you grief.”

“It’s stupid.” You shrugged, “I don’t need to bother you with my personal hang ups when you’re in the middle of a case so big you’ve dragged NCIS into it.”

“You absolutely do.” She replied, her hand still resting on your knee, thumb soothing across your leg, “well, I mean, I guess you don’t have to. But I’d really like it if you would, advice, sounding board, silent partner to vent to, how to hire a hitman?” Her lips twitched up, “whatever you need I’m here.”

“Emily!” You scolded and a warmth bloomed through her chest at the sight of you truly smiling, a small laugh on your features as you shook your head at her.

“Hey, I know a guy…”

“I’m starting to think I might have to report you.” You teased back and she mocked offence, her hand mimicking clutching pearls before she laughed, leaning back toward you and bumping your shoulder with hers.

“C’mon, what’s going on?”

You took another heavy breath, scooping your lunch back up and settling into the corner of the couch, “I was getting ready for work this morning and my mother decided it would be the perfect time to call.”

“Okay well I already don’t like the sound of this.”

“Yeah.” You shot her a knowing glance, pausing for a small bite of food, “I kid you not the call was six minutes and forty two seconds and in that small amount of time she just fucking tore me apart. She asked how I’d been, I said I was good, getting ready for work. She then began to dig into my job, asking if I’d gotten any kind of promotion recently, that I deserved a pay increase. Asking why I’m still interning following Heather around like a lost dog after all these years, I should be doing more, could be out there using that law degree, ‘making a name for myself’.”

“She has no idea what it is you actually do, does she?” Emily asked dryly and you nodded with a huff.

“Not a clue. Which doesn’t help the nagging in other departments, before I can even get a word in besides the fact that I love my job she’s going off on how I could afford a nice place to live on a better salary. That ‘the dump’ I was living in last year could certainly use an upgrade and she could send me some listings if need be.”

“Your place is literally bigger than mine.”

“Yeah, but it’s not an eleven million dollar mansion.” Your nose crinkled in distaste, “she doesn’t understand why I would bother to live quote un quote ‘modestly’ when I could definitely be flaunting myself to a higher career and fancier lifestyle with fast cars and expensive yet boring houses.”

“She doesn’t really get how money works, does she?”

“Nope.” You stabbed another piece of shrimp, though this one remained on the fork as you continued to talk, “but don’t worry, I couldn’t even try to explain it if I wanted to. She then veers off another tangent, asking if I still talk to April who I went to high school with back in Connecticut, because she lives out here now. I say I haven’t and she asks about three other friends who happened to have moved out to D.C. post graduation yet have nothing in common with me anymore. Like, I haven’t talked to most of these girls in over twenty years! I reminded her about a couple of other friends she’s met and she breezes directly past it ignoring every single thing I say. She managed to belittle not just me but everything that makes me, me in such a short span of time, it just…”

“Sucked…”

“Yeah.” You finally popped the piece of shrimp into your mouth, chewing slowly while digesting your ranting, feeling the tension beginning to leave your body. “She finally got around to the point of the phone call as I reminded her I had a very important job to get to and it turns out I actually have an inheritance.”

“I feel like there’s a but coming….” Emily countered and you cast her a look.

“Mom’s feeling pretty insecure about how she’s aging –which, is likely thanks to all the chain smoking, drinking, fast food and tanning – so she’s decided she’s flying out to California to get a whole slew of plastic surgery and cosmetic work done. And of course if she’s going all the way out there she may as well take her two best friends for a girl’s trip before the procedures.”

“And your inheritance is paying for all of it?”

“Including the friends tickets, yeah.” You threw your fork back into the container, “I didn’t even know I had an inheritance!”

Emily watched with a frown as you dropped yourself back into the couch, “offer still stands to pay you for your time.”

“No, Em really” you shook your head, “it’s not even about the money. I—it’s… I’m tired, I’m frustrated, it’s cold and shitty weather, things are off and parents… fucking suck. I just thought for once maybe she’d be happy for me but she didn’t even hear a word I said.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, placing her lunch down on the table as she shifted toward you. She could see the shimmering in your eyes already and if you were as weirdly tired and jetlagged as she’d been feeling, crying would just make the entire thing worse and you’d likely be embarrassed on top of it all. So she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into her side and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Parents fucking suck.”

“Yeah.” You replied with a dejected sigh, sinking into her embrace and you felt the anxiety shaking in your chest finally calming down as the scent of her perfume drifted into your nose. Her hand rubbed up and down your arm, her lips brushing against your temple again.

“Hey, I’m sorry I had to cancel Thursday, I feel like you need some company right now.”

“It’s fine.” You wiped at your eye quickly before sitting up, “I’m sure I’m not much fun I already got compared to a toddler today.”

Her brow furrowed but she didn’t address the comment, “this week’s still out but as long as the case doesn’t take us out of state can I at least take you for brunch Sunday?”

“Can it be in the Maldives?” You asked, the corner of your lips twitching up.

“Pretty long flight for one meal.”

“What if we never came back?”

Emily laughed softly, squeezing at your hand, “that’d be a dream. C’mon, we don’t even have to go out if you’re not up for it. I’ll just bring over a McMuffin and we can pretend its brunch.”

A small smile came over your cheeks, “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Her hand caressed your cheek, fingers trailing up your jaw until a finger curled behind your earlobe, “you know I don’t think these little guys are doing their jobs very well. If they were whispering compliments all morning you’d probably be in a better mood.”

You laughed softly, a blush on your cheeks, “they’re probably too cold to talk right now.” The sound of half the team returning to the bull pen pulled both of your attention in the direction of the door and you let out a soft sigh, “I should get outta here before Tony comes back. If I’m still in your office I will quite literally never hear the end of it.”

Emily laughed, standing when you did, “hey, you text me tonight if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” You slipped your coat back on, your purse over your shoulder as you turned back to her. A second later and you were stepping toward her, wrapping her in a tight hug that she returned, “thank you.”

“Hey,” she only pulled away as far as she needed to in order to kiss your cheek, “anytime. I mean it.”

___________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog @m1lfsh4ke

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #decadent desires #emily prentiss series #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds fanfic

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jeon-ify · 8 months

Text

NASTY- SONG MINGI (18+)

yeah i want you to get nasty,

do that thing you know i like, no one’s watching

warnings: read and find out. 18+.

FRIDAY

“welcome in, guys! what brings you in today?” the salesman asks. mingi’s been busy with schedules, realizing that he hasn’t seen you much, nor has he gotten to do anything he really wanted to do.

today was the day he’d spoil you. you didn’t want to go out, but mingi insisted that he’d blow all his money on whatever you wanted today since ‘my money is yours.’

the first place you went to was YSL. you bought a pair of the classic YSL heel, mingi letting you swipe his card the minute you picked up the pair. he stood and watched you try on the shoe, in admiration of how well deserved you are of everything good in the world. it was his love language— gift giving.

“what do you think, baby? do my feet look weird?” you observed your foot, making sure that your gold anklet matched the shoe. you never took off that anklet, you’ve had it on since the first time you spent your birthday with mingi.

“no, baby. i think they suit you really well. makes you look so elegant, my love.” he kneels before you, holding your foot and caressing your bare and smooth calves. his dimples rise to peek at you, making your skin crawl in arousal.

“thank you. i think i’m gonna get these, then.” you put them back in the silk bag they were once in, and handed them to the salesman. you put your shoes back on, walking over to the register to swipe your boyfriend’s black card.

“baby, you really don’t have to be my sugar daddy all the time.”

“stop questioning how i show my love. plus, you deserve it, don’t you, pretty girl?” he’s holding your bags, letting you walk free-handedly around the mall.

“i do.” you continue a conversation, only to notice that you’re not getting any responses. you catch mingi staring at the lingerie store on your left side, realizing that he’s hard, too.

“baby, we have to come in here. go try some things on and call me to the back so i can see them.” he holds your hand, guiding you into the store as he steps back and waits outside for you to call.

you pick out a burgundy corset laced set with black diamonds lining the chest area, with the back exposed. attached was a knee strap that had dangling diamonds dripping down your thigh, while the other thigh was left blank. you felt so sexy, almost like if you’d called mingi back here, he’d rip it off and have to pay for it before you’d even get to decide if you like it or not. nonetheless, you finish putting on the thigh strap to complete the look, you call mingi’s phone and he comes to the 7th fitting room you chose. you chose the last and farthest room from the store, knowing how mingi is.

he slowly pulls the curtain, eyeing you up and down with his bottom lip sitting between his pearly whites. his mind runs a thousand miles an hour, feeling like he’s above the clouds and underground at the same time. he watches the way you breathe, the way your hair moves down your back when you take the deep breaths. he watches the way you stare into his eyes through the mirror, watching him slowly walk towards you and closing the curtain behind him.

“you like? i think this color suits me, don’t you think, mings?” you ask as you run your hands up your chest, admiring the way your cleavage sits in the top.

mingi doesn’t respond. you catch him staring at the diamonds down your thigh, and down to the gold anklet hugging your ankle. his eyes move up to your perked ass, then right back down to your thigh. it’s something about your thighs that mingi could never get enough of. the smoothness and the way they feel around his head when he’s devouring your pussy.

“you can’t rip this off me, yet, mingi. i like it and i wanna get it. you can fuck me later. you know i can read your mind.” you chuckle. he breathes, his hand moving to travel up your waist and up to your neck to push you onto his body. your head is thrown back onto his shoulder, watching him through the mirror as he kisses down your neck.

“but baby, you look so nasty. you look so fuckable. like i wanna cum on your face and let you squish my face with your thighs while you wear this thigh strap you have on.”

he pulls on the elastic, only to snap it onto the skin. you gasp, he squeezes your throat tighter and kisses your temple.

“get dressed, i’ll pay for this and we’re going home.” he unties the corset from the back, then kneels to unclip the strap on your thigh. you slide the corset off, taking your clothes from mingi’s hands as he steps out and pays for the set.

mingi grabs the rest of your bags and you both head out of the building as soon as you can. mingi could not wait any longer to fuck you in your new set.

•

SATURDAY

“mingi, please go make me pancakes. i’m too lazy,” you whine. you really don’t feel like doing anything at all this evening. you craved pancakes at 7:00pm, mingi being wide awake and already in the kitchen.

“you’re so lazy. but yes, i will make you some pancakes, lovey. how many do you want?” his bare back muscles flex with every move he made, his hair bouncing in its place.

“like 4. but don’t drench them in syrup.”

“fine.”

“thank you.”

as you downed your last pancake, mingi watched you get up and put your plate in the sink and wash your hands. you wore his basketball shorts and your tanktop, along with a pair of black socks. your feet were cold, as you’d just moved in and you’re having trouble with your heat.

and so was mingi.

he watched the way your ass and hips moved whenever you walked anywhere. he stared at your waist and how your long hair covered your back. he felt himself getting rock hard as he remembered the scene in the fitting room yesterday evening.

he called you over to him before you sat down across from him.

“y/n. come here.” he motioned for you to sit on his lap, not thinking about breaking eye contact with you.

“where did you put that red set we bought yesterday, hm? tell me darling, when are you gonna wear it?” he runs his pretty fingers up the back of your thighs, landing a sharp spank on your left cheek.

“well we just bought it yesterday. i’ll put it on soon.”

“i think you should go upstairs and put it on. now.”

you, without a doubt, run up the stairs and pull out the set from your closet. you slide on the strap lastly, making sure it sat in the right spot.

as you finish putting on the set, mingi walks up the stairs and into the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

“fuck, all this for me? do you understand how lucky i am? guys would be on their knees for you in a second. but i get to have you and see you like this.”

he slowly moves towards you at the edge of the bed, lifting your chin up to maintain eye contact with you while he slides his hand through your thighs.

“i would never let anyone see me the way you do, mingi. i’m all for you. i belong to you.”

you could’ve sworn you just heard him moan. you feel his breath hitch under his touch, sweat forming around his orange hairline. he leans down to kiss you, nothing but tongue and teeth. he pulls away to catch his breath as his eyes are rolled back.

“that’s right, you belong to me. now, lay back for me, ‘m gonna taste your pretty pussy. want you to squeeze my head with your pretty thighs.”

as your body reacts to his deep toned silk voice, you lay back onto the bed, feeling mingi following you, planting kisses all over your chest. he kisses on the corset with his wet lips, falling in love with your body in every lifetime.

you are mingi’s ride or die. though it sounds cliche, mingi cannot live without you. he comes home around 2am after a long day at work, and you understand him. he wishes things were different with his idol life and his personal life, but you make up for it. he loves you more than anything in his life. in fact, you may be the only thing he does love.

these thoughts cloud mingi’s brain as he admires and worships your body tonight, tears enveloping his precious eyes.

“mings, why are you crying? is something wrong?” you sit up on your elbows, your left hand caressing his cheek while he kisses your lower stomach through the burgundy fabric.

“i fucking love you. i would die for you. you don’t understand that i cannot physically live without you, baby. you’re so beautiful, i don’t know what to do.” he lifts your thighs and places them on his shoulders while he kneels on the floor at the edge of the bed, kissing the insides of your legs, and to unbutton the bodysuit with his pearly white teeth.

“mingi, i love you. i love you so fucking much, i can’t imagine being with anyone else.” you moan out as he licks a stripe up your bare pussy, your thighs immediately shutting around his head as the diamonds on the strap poke his temples.

“you taste so beautiful. would rather die than never have this pussy again, my love. open up for me.”

as he continues to eat you out, he plunges his long, thick fingers into your heat and you finish all over his hand and wrist. he licks a long stripe from your pussy, gathering your cum and his drool. he brings his face closer to yours as you open your mouth. he gathered the juices in his mouth as he spit them into yours, immediately swallowing and sticking your tongue out to show him that you’ve swallowed.

“good girl. my beautiful girl. i’m gonna fuck you now, let you feel my love.” he unzips his pants, tossing them somewhere in the room. he throws his glasses onto the nightstand by your bed, then takes the rest of his clothing off, leaving nothing but his silver chain with your initial on it.

he brings his palm up to your mouth so you’d spit in his hand, then he rubs it on the base of his cock. he pushes his cock into your heat, making you immediately gasp in response, still not used to his size.

“fuck! mingi, you’re so big, i d-“ you claw at his lower stomach, clenching your thighs and scratching his hips with the black diamonds on the strap.

“baby, you’ve taken me hundreds of times, what’s changed?” he slowly pushes into you, using his question to distract you from his size ripping you open.

“i- fuck, fuck fuck! baby, oh my god—“ you cry out, mingi’s thrusts already picking up the pace. he doesn’t hesitate to thrust at his own speed, knowing that you’ve taken him hundreds of times, but you were extra sensitive today.

mingi took your wrists in his hands, using them to hold you onto his dick while he pounds into you deeper. he lifts you up as your legs wrap around his tiny waist. he feels like he’s on cloud 9, with the way you’re gripping his length.

“feel it. feel how much i fucking love you. how much i’d do for you. how much i’d lose for you.” he lets you go as you fall loosely back onto the bed. he comes down to spoil your mouth with his sloppy kisses, breathing in your moans and cries.

“mingi, i love you! i love you so fucking much, baby. you belong to me and i belong to you,” you cry out. you feel so blissful in a moment like this with mingi. its rough, its raw, its real. his love language always spoke its full dialect to you, while he showed how sorry he was for the lost time.

“do that thing i like, baby. grip my dick, make me cum.” his head is thrown back while he fiddles and tugs at your thigh strap. he feels your pussy gripping his length, unintentionally, since you’re already about to cum.

“fuck! fuck, stop, i’m gonna cum.” he gasps. you’ve already opened a gate and you do not want to close it. so, you grip onto his cock again, harder this time. he groans louder, coming down to wrap his pretty hand around your throat. he fucks into you rapidly, chasing his orgasm just as much as you chase your third one of the night.

“you’re still fucking me and you’re not using the safeword. i don’t think you want me to stop, mings.” you smirk at him, almost mocking his submissive demeanor.

“you’ll kill me one of these days, yet i feel so fucking alive with you. feels so good.” his pace comes to a halt, slowing down and twitching inside your ovaries.

“cum in me, mings. wanna feel your cum all in me.” you contract around him again. he comes down to kiss you, then sucks on your bottom lip, pulling away with a pop as he finishes in you.

“my god, baby. you’re fucking phenomenal. i love you.” he pulls out, plopping down on the spot beside you. you both give each other a few minutes before getting up.

a few minutes pass as mingi regains himself, he flips you over to untie the corset, letting your lungs finally breathe the air you needed. he unclips the strap on your thigh, putting it on the nightstand as keeps for the next time he wants to fuck you again. he walks over to the bathroom, soaking a towel with extra warm water to clean you up.

he turns you over and lifts your thigh to wipe the juices around your inner thighs, then plants a kiss on the cleaned area.

“the things i would do for you, my love.”

#Spotify #kpop smut #kpop #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #song mingi x reader #mingi ateez #mingi fluff #ateez mingi #mingi scenarios #mingi x reader #mingi smut #song mingi #mingi icons #mingi #m: mingi

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cloudcountry · 1 year

Text

why not me?

SUMMARY: They're in love with you, but there's one thing getting in the way. That thing? The fact that they aren't your favorite person (and never will be.)

CHARACTERS: All NRC Students minus Ignihyde.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: Cater feeling like he's second place because your attention is IMMEDIATELY captured by someone else when you're together makes my soul hurt. Did I write it anyway? Yes. Every time I write Epel I'm reminded of how hard it is for me to grasp his character AJHSDFAJHS

This fic is related to the drabble why me?! linked here!! that part is a fluffy part for idia since there was no one else i could write romantic content for in his dorm C: idia kissers get out of this one........

~~~~~

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts fails to see the appeal. And no, he’s not saying that because he’s jealous. He just doesn’t get how you and Ace can talk about anything and everything and do it with smiles on your faces. Riddle’s tried so hard to get your attention, almost pathetically so, and it’s like he’ll never be anything more than Housewarden to you. He resigns himself to his fate of getting over you when he sees the two of you hugging, loud proclamations of never wanting to let go ringing through his ears like a death toll.

Trey Clover can’t blame you. He really can’t, because both you and Cater have such magnetic personalities that seem to just click. Yes, it hurts, because he wishes he could be the one you lean on at Unbirthday parties, taking silly pictures and posting them to Magicam with sappy captions. Though, he supposes that isn’t his style. Maybe he’s too boring for you, he’s been called that before. As long as you’re happy though, Trey supposes he doesn’t mind. He just wishes things could have gone different.

Cater Diamond's content being your friend. That’s what he tells himself, just another lie stacked upon castles and castles of them. Even the Queen of Hearts can’t compete with his towering structure, built of his facade and held up by his pride. He takes pictures with you but avoids the heart emoji, he holds up bunny ears behind your head but avoids pressing his lips to your cheek. He keeps you at arms length, because whenever you’re with Trey, it’s so obvious he’s the one you’d want. He posts another picture, this one of you and him at the Unbirthday party, and it’s only him and you that knows that the failed shot was of you spinning around at the sound of Trey’s voice the second the camera went off.

Ace Trappola doesn’t understand your taste in men. You hang around Deuce all the time and make him all flustered and it makes his blood boil. His heart seizes every time he sees the two of you together and he knows it’s because he loves you. You, who always laughs at his jokes and puts up with his stupid shit and who told him that he wasn’t a burden to be around when he and Deuce got into a fight. That same person who he treasures so dearly treasures the person that could not be more different from him, and for once Ace knows he should just give up because you’ll never be his.

Deuce Spade finds himself getting angry more often than he’d like. It’s irrational most of the time, little parts of his delinquent side coming out when he least wants it to. You’ve seen that side of him before. He wishes you hadn’t. Because maybe if you hadn’t, you’d like him more than his own Housewarden, who you’re currently feeding bits of strawberry tart to. Riddle’s face is bright red and Deuce feels his grip on his fork growing tighter. A pit of ugly jealousy twists in his stomach as Riddle mumbles something that makes you laugh, and Deuce can’t help but wonder where he went wrong.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar can’t find it in himself to care. Not when you’re fawning over Jack like he’s the greatest student NRC has ever had, not when you spend every waking moment with him, not when your conversations with Leona become shorter and shorter. He finds himself waking up alone time and time again, without a cheerful call of his name from outside his door and your blurry form bringing him little snacks. He grumbles as he hears your laugh from outside his door, except you keep walking. Of course you wouldn’t check on him, but he can’t help but get his hopes up every time. Pathetic.

Ruggie Bucchi feels a pit in his stomach as you lean your head on Leona’s shoulder, pointing out something in his textbook that the prince isn’t even paying attention to. Ruggie grips his magical pen tighter, gritting his teeth as Leona grumbles something incoherent and flops on your shoulder in return. You look embarrassed, Ruggie realizes, tearing his eyes away from the display in front of him. He’s never seen Leona this happy. He’s never seen you this happy. Not even when you’re with him.

Jack Howl doesn’t want to question your choices. He adores you, as gruff and cold as his affection may be. He wishes he could express his emotions better when he sees you and Ruggie, laughing and smiling and touching each other like it isn’t a big deal. He feels like he can’t breathe when he sees you two holding hands, and he feels nauseous when Ruggie leans his head on your shoulder. There’s a part of his brain that he hates that whispers jealous little thoughts into his ears, thoughts that he’s ashamed to admit are his. Great Seven, why couldn’t you be like that to him?

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto feels sick to his stomach as he watches you talk animatedly to Jade, eyes shimmering like the stars the Vice Housewarden loved to admire. He sees the exact same look in Jade’s eyes, the look he has when he looks at his mushrooms or when he talks about a new bird he spotted on the trails, except it’s different. Azul doesn’t want to put a word to it, not when you reach for Jade’s hand and he takes it, because all Azul can think of is how that should be him.

Jade Leech is a background character in your life. That’s the role he’s been assigned and that’s the role he’s decided to be content with. He knows you won’t give him anything more than a fleeting glance, not when you’re hanging off Floyd’s arm like he’s everything you see. Jade is just a smear on the window, a blurry afterimage of his brother. There’s no use contemplating what you could have seen if you looked a bit deeper, because you didn’t. You favor his twin, and he can do nothing about it.

Floyd Leech knows what it’s like to want something someone else has, but never like this. It’s always been a feeling that surfaced when Jade got a treat before him, but this is not that. This is you, his Little Shrimpy, giving Azul your undivided attention while he talks about the monthly earnings of the Mostro Lounge. He whines and pouts and hollers into your ear, only to be pat on the head and ignored again like he’s only an afterthought. Azul gets to have all the fun with his Shrimpy, and that’s not fair.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim invites you over as often as he can. He’s cheery and excited and absolutely delighted by your company as he shovels food onto your plate. Maybe he’s an idiot or maybe he's just dense, but he somehow misses the glances you send Jamil when he exits the kitchen. It hits Kalim like a truck one day when Jamil offers you heart shaped cakes, displayed all prettily on Scarabia’s best golden platter. You look taken aback but flustered, lashes fluttering as you turn your gaze to Jamil. He smiles down at you with a softness that Kalim has never seen him wear, and it’s like a knife in the heart. Oh. It’s Jamil. You’re accepting his invitation for Jamil. Oh Great Seven, you’re in love with Jamil. He excuses himself with a fleeting smile, running to his dorm room the second he’s out of view, collapsing onto his bed with a broken sob. Why did it hurt so much?! He should be happy for you.

Jamil Viper doesn’t even bother. You have his heart resting in the palms of your hands, but it’s like the weight of the organ is nothing because you can ignore it so easily. He watches you every day, observing your habits and mannerisms. He brings you and Kalim snacks as you laugh and study and talk, talk as casually as friends do, and Jamil wonders what it would be like to have that with you. He can’t though. He can’t, because he’d be competing with Kalim again and that’s never worked out in his favor anyway. Kalim always has to win, even if Jamil has to give up the one person who took the time to think about how he felt.

Pomfiore

Vil Schoenheit likes to pretend he doesn’t mind. He pretends he doesn’t like you as much as he does, because if he lets his emotions show you’ll surely feel obligated to apologize to him. He watches you as you talk happily with Rook, your hands intertwined and swinging as if you’re together already. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth, but he says nothing as the two of you prattle on. Leave it to you to capture a few hearts on campus and break most of them, Vil Schoenheit’s included.

Rook Hunt thinks the way you look at Epel is beautiful, though he wishes it were him. He honestly doesn’t mind that much, even if he yearns to see that same affection boring into his soul. He’s content for now, watching you watch Epel, the affectionate look on your face reflected on Rook’s. It’s painfully obvious to him what’s happening in that little heart of Epel’s as he returns your look, and as long as Rook gets to see you bloom with love then he’ll be satisfied. (Rook Hunt is also, unfortunately, a liar, and he knows it will hurt him in the end.)

Epel Felmier grits his teeth as you greet Vil with a cheery “hi beautiful,” and he returns the sentiment in kind. The way you two smile at each other makes him feel sick, so much so that he pushes away his food. Whenever the two of you are in the same vicinity, it's like Epel can't breathe anymore. He refuses to acknowledge what the feeling is, because that would be losing. Of course. Of course of everyone his first love could have picked, they fell in love with the one man he disliked more than anything.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia gets a sinking feeling in his chest whenever he sees you with Lilia. He thought you and him were friends, close enough to act casual with each other. He’s never had that with someone before, and he’s definitely never felt this before you. Beautiful, accepting, kind you. But when he sees you with Lilia, goofing off and laughing and smiling, he realizes that what he thought was special meant absolutely nothing to you.

Lilia Vanrouge thinks the situation is funny in the cruelest way possible. He stares at you with affection blooming in his eyes, and yet he sees you look at Silver the same way. Lilia has lived a long time, and he knows nothing lasts forever, but the fact that he never even got to have you will always eat away at him. As long as he gets to see the growing affection in Silver’s eyes grow for you too, he thinks he will be okay.

Sebek Zigvolt can’t blame you! You’re so obviously in love with Malleus, and what an excellent choice you’ve made, human! There is no one…better in the love…department than...the Young Master...He can’t do this. Why won’t you look at him? There isn’t a single thing he can train or improve that would ever steal your attention from his Master, and Sebek knows it’s blasphemy to try. So why does he want so badly? Why does seeing you and his Master make him so bitter?

Silver shuts his eyes. Sebek is loud as usual, and your attention has been completely captured by him. He’s aware that he tends to blend in, especially when Sebek is around, but knowing that doubles as an excuse. Of course you’re not paying attention to Silver, because he’s sleeping and Sebek is talking. It isn’t until he sees the two of you walking and talking together, his fellow guard’s cheeks red as he turns his head away from you, that he realizes you act like that regardless of whether Silver’s around or not. Because you like Sebek, not him.

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bruisedboys · 9 months

Note

❛you got me flowers?❜ + ❛aw, did you miss me?❜ with tasm!peter maybe?

thank you for the request blair!!!!! xx

tasm!peter parker x gn!reader

Peter’s never really been very nimble. Even after becoming SpiderMan, he’s still a little bit of a clutz. He’s lanky and much taller than he thinks he is, so he’s always under-compensating for his size and walking into things.

He makes it through your bedroom window without incident, but then he trips over a book on the floor and can’t catch himself because his hands are full. He goes thudding into the carpet. There’s a pause, and then he hears the shower shut off.

“Hello?” Your voice echoes from the bathroom, much too frightened for Peter’s liking. Whoops.

“It’s me!” He calls out, scrambling to his feet and ditching his effort to surprise you. “It’s Peter, honey, I’m sorry.”

Another pause. Then, “Oh, okay. Just give me a minute!”

Peter’s happy to wait, though he’d go barging into the bathroom if it was up to him. He sits on the end of your bed and brings the bouquet of flowers he’s holding to his lap. It’s a little wilted from his fall, a few petals on the outermost layer crushed. He doesn’t have time to fix them before he hears the bathroom door open and your footsteps down the hall.

“Are you trying to rob me?” You’re saying, amusement clear in your soft voice. “You aren’t very stealthy, Peter.”

You appear in the doorway with a huge smile, a towel wrapped around your otherwise bare body and your skin all dewy and fresh. Peter feels instantly like you’ve put him under a spell.

“I wasn’t trying to rob you,” he argues. His head is swimming. Worse when you cross the room to stand in front of his knees with a sugar sweet smile. He looks up at you, starstruck. “I was trying to surprise you. There’s a difference.”

You raise your eyebrows. Peter’s eyes catch on your bare collarbones. They skip over the dip of your throat, your sternum, the sparkling diamonds of water that cling to your skin.

“Is there?” You ask, amused.

“Uh. Yeah,” Peter says dizzily. He’s completely forgotten what he was just talking about two seconds ago. You smell exquisite. Your skin is smooth and shiny with moisturiser. He might die and you’ll be the culprit. He blinks once, twice, thrice, but his head doesn’t show any signs of clearing.

You giggle at his inadequacy, a sweet, airy sound that has Peter’s heart doing somersaults.

“Aw, Pete,” you say, faking sympathy. You take his face in a soft hand, fingers pushing to the space beneath his ear. “Did you miss me?”

Peter blinks hard. Your fingers set his skin on fire. “What makes you think that?” He asks, aiming for accusatory but landing on clumsy and starstruck.

You burst into laughter. Peter knows very well that you’re laughing at him. He finds he doesn’t care, not when you lean over him and press a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re cute,” you tell him fondly.

Peter blushes all the way up to his ears. Thankfully, you’ve become distracted by the bouquet of flowers in his hands and you don’t notice his very intense blush. He wouldn’t mind if you did, actually. You might call him cute again.

“Oh!” You gasp softly, and lift your eyes to Peter’s. “You got me flowers?”

Peter nods. “Yeah,” he says. Finally, he’s managed to say something without embarrassing himself. “Do you like ‘em?”

You nod vehemently. “They’re lovely, Peter. Let me get dressed, okay? And then we can put them in some water together.”

You touch his cheek and then move away, leaving him in a dizzying cloud of sweetness. He can still smell your moisturiser, still feel the heat of your hand where you’d touched his face.

“Cool,” Peter says, his voice two notches too high. Not his smoothest moment.

633 notes · View notes

blossom-hwa · 3 months

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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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