#Beyond his boxing career

[nfllivescores]

Amir Khan Appointed Honorary Captain of the Pakistan Army

Honorary Captain In a move that has resonated across the sporting world, British-Pakistani boxing champion Amir Khan has been appointed as an honorary captain of the Pakistan Army. This prestigious title not only highlights Khan’s remarkable achievements in the boxing ring but also underscores his dedication to his heritage and his philanthropic endeavors. The appointment signifies a new chapter…

[dontmeanyoudontmissit]

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[drvscarlett]

Let him cook

Charles Leclerc x Masterchef contestant!reader

Series Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

A/N: Got this idea because the masterchef trophy is similar to the Australian GP trophy. This is going to be a series

Charles_Leclerc posted a new photo

liked by CarlosSainz55, PierreGasly, and 365,000 others.

Charles_Leclerc Add professional chef to the list

User1 aint no way you cooked this

User2 nice try Charles but we all saw that pasta video

CarlosSainz55 mate drop the # of the private chef you hired, these look delicious

Charles_Leclerc I told you that I made this myself CarlosSainz55 Lies!!!!

PierreGasly since when did you learn how to make coq au vin???

Charles_Leclerc not you too PierreGasly you should invite me sometimes so I can judge your cooking

Y/NCooks posted a photo

YNCooks last date night before i enter masterchef australia. credits to the boyfriend for the lovely photos

Friend1 Y/N i know this is your dream for a while now. I hope you win. We will cheer for you our next masterchef australia!

YNCooks awww stop! ur making me cry

User1 OMG she is finally competing, goodluck Y/N!

User2 Y/N always talk about how its her dream to enter masterchef, I'm gonna watch it everyday and hope she wins it!

User3 Goodluck Y/N! I hope you become the next masterchef australia!!!

Mystery Box challenge episode

There was a building reputation in the kitchen that you are one of the strong homecooks of the season. After winning the past 2 mystery challenges, you were extremely determined to do well and seek for a third streak. The mystery box today was all about italian cooking, a cuisine that you have been comfortable due to the close ties of your boyfriend being signed to an Italian team.

"And what do we have here with you today Miss Y/N" Matt Preston asked as he approached the work table together with George Colambris "You seem rather comfortable and in your own zone. Its like an ordinary Tuesday date night"

You gave a small chuckle with that mention "That's actually pretty on point of you to say as Tuesday is my date night with the boyfriend"

"Ah so maybe that's why you are so inspired because you are in love"George teased.

"Well I have to admit that there is a little pressure to do well in this challenge or my boyfriend's family will get mad at me"you quipped back a reply.

The judges suddenly leaned a little interested to learn more about your personal life, "So your boyfriend is italian?"

"He is not but he might as well be. He spends a lot of time there"

"It must be hard to not see him a lot since you are here competing" Matt says

"It's a price we are willing to pay. He has been supportive of my dream as I am with him" you gave an encouraging smile as you continue to chop the sweet potatoes.

"We hope to meet that boyfriend of yours because he is one lucky man because that dish looks delicious!" George says before they left the station.

Somewhere in Bahrain, Charles Leclerc is grinning upon watching the replay of the episode. He was beyond proud of what you have achieved as a contestant in MasterChef. He wished that he could do more to express his support towards you but you have an agreement with him to keep things lowkey for the meantime. It was a reasonable decision as he didn't want to overshadow your career but it was nice to know that you two are a private thing but never a secret.

He was so engrossed to repeating the boyfriend clip that he didn't notice that Carlos snuck up beside him.

"What are you watching there?" Carlos asked his teammate

"Oh its nothing" Charles says as he immediately exited the Youtube app "I didn't notice you there, you scared me"

"If you weren't too into your phone then you would have noticed me calling you" Carlos explained "What are you watching on your phone that got you smiling like that?"

"Nothing, I just saw an ad"

"Hmm sure an ad" Carlos was pretty sure that Charles was watching MasterChef but he couldn't care anymore to ask which country because there was too many so he decided to just let it go "Cmon Fred is asking for us, were late for a meeting"

"Carlos! Why didn't you start with that?"

Cake challenge

You were exhausted because you spent the early hours of the morning watching the Jeddah GP. It was a thrilling race to see Charles bag his first podium of the season so you can say that its worth it. Besides, you were able to talk to him after the race so it sweetens the deal even more.

Filming begun for MasterChef and the judges brought out balloons for the mystery box challenge.

"Your challenge today is to make the most imaginative and creative birthday cake that you ever had" Gary explained "The pantry is filled with all the cake flavors you can ever imagine so be creative and show us what you've got"

Baking has never been your strongest suit. It was all about precision and measurements as small increments can make a huge difference. Today, you were determined to do well and you wanted to use the podium finish of Charles for the cake.

It was a struggle to bake the cake, cool it, and pipe it in under 60 minutes. You felt the pressure getting under your nerves as your hands started shaking when you were piping the cake details with 10 minutes left. There was a sigh of relief when you finished just 5 seconds away from the judges calling the time.

There were plenty of beautiful cakes in the room so it was a shocker for you that the judges called you in front to present your cake.

"Judges what I have for you today is a three layer cake with the raspberry,almond, and pistachio with chocolate to seperate the layers and a lemon buttercream frosting."

"You told us you can't bake, that seems like a lie" George says as he cuts through the cake "Look at that layers"

"The layers are actually inspired by the italian flag, its an homage to the boyfriend. Its actually a cake that I made thinking about him" you explained.

"That is simply gorgeous. The cake is very moist and the balance with the flavors is that its not too sweet or nothing overpowering. Your boyfriend is a lucky lucky lucky man to be baked a cake like this" George complimented.

"Does your boyfriend cook?"Matt asked as he took a bite

"Oh God no. I have to cook or else the kitchen will be on fire"you laughed "But I can't drive so maybe that's his payback"

"You seem to show the beautiful dynamics of your relationship when you cook something inspired by him. I wish you two the best" Matt's genuine comment was a heartwarming moment.

Its unfortunate that you didn't win this challenge but you were able to showcase your support for your boyfriend.

Melbourne GP meets MasterChef

This was another challenge as you were elected as a team captain for the second team challenge. You were extremely nervous when you were transported with your team mates from the blue kitchen to an unknown location. It was even more nerve-wracking after you've realized where you are.

"Welcome to the Albert Park where the Australian Grand Prix is underway for this weekend" Matt introduced "Your challenge is to prepare two dishes: a pasta and a fish dish to be served to the talented drivers in Formula 2"

There was a little sigh of relief as you were dealing with the Formula 2 drivers. It was a lot of weight on the shoulder if you will be serving food to your boyfriend.

"The practice sessions will be starting in a few minutes. You have 90 minutes to prepare your dish and an hour to serve them"

All you know was that you started organizing the team to put them in charge of the dishes that you will be making today. You cross your fingers that the color red brings luck to your team today.

Meanwhile, the paddock was buzzing with cameras and Charles immediately noticed that there were some new film crews around the Formula 2 drivers. His eyes did a double take after he recognized the face of three familiar judges he often sees on MasterChef Australia.

"What's going on? Isn't that MasterChef Australia judges?" Charles quizzed

"That's MasterChef Australia, they have this team challenges and they will be feeding the Formula 2 drivers" Silvia answered as she was informed earlier that morning about the extra exposure in the paddock today.

"Why Formula 2? Why not us?" Charles whined

"If you want then you could go ask Ollie for food" Silvia suggested

That sets a lightbulb moment for Charles as he excused himself to talk to the young driver. He will not miss the opportunity to taste the cooking of his secret girlfriend and support her in doing her craft.

It puzzled Ollie Bearman to see that Charles has been looking for him once the practice session was over. He was even more confused by his request.

"So you want me to get you food?" Ollie asked "Doesn't Ferrari have a catering?"

"Its not just food, its the MasterChef Australia food" Charles explained without giving out too much information "I just love the show okay?"

"You can come along, I'm sure they don't mind" Even better.

So here is why you were genuinely surprised to see that Charles Leclerc is walking inside the MasterChef tent with a red and blue plate in his hand. He was grinning wildly as if he was a kid on a sugar rush.

"Ohmygod we are serving food to Charles Leclerc!" one of your teammates whispered.

"Hi goodafternoon! What's the dish for today?" he asked politely.

"Well we have a pan fried cod with a pea puree and then some green grapes some fennel over there and then for the pasta lemon ricotta and beet tortellini" you answered as the team captain "We hope that its up your liking"

Charles gave you that smile that seems to light up the whole room, "I look forward to it, thanks!"

Its moments like this that you wish that you could reach out for him but you understand that its not yet the time. Its nice to see the support that you have for each other even though its all in private and away from the eyes of the media.

"Goodluck on your race Charles!"

There was a smile on both of your faces as you both continued to go chase your dreams.

[bettsfic]

Betts. how do I stop feeling jealous of everyone and everything and just focus on myself? I'm tired of being comprised of nothing but envy.

story time:

so i was recently at Millay, which is one of the top artist residencies in the country. they have an acceptance rate of something like 3%. when i was shown my room, there was a packet of all the residents' artist bios. i sat down and read through all of them. most of them were like half a page in length, single-spaced, listing out accomplishments i could never dream of. one artist had won a guggenheim. one author had published 12 books. another author published her first book at 19 years old. these were people who were extremely well accomplished and respected in their fields.

and we all became very good friends!

and then there was me. my bio was 3 sentences listing out a couple short publications and awards and other residencies i'd done. and my honest to god first thought was, "wow, the jurors must have really liked my writing to have accepted me among all these great artists."

and my second thought was, "that's the healthiest thing i have ever thought."

i had no jealousy of their accomplishments. even though my career hadn't even begun compared to theirs, i didn't attend dinner that night with any impostor syndrome. and that confirmed for me that i had grown out of whatever place i used to be in as a person, where i was basically a raw wound wrapped in barbed wire. everything hurt me and i hurt everything in return.

jealous feelings come from an intense need of external approval, but as i've mentioned in other asks, approval and validation is a well that gets filled over time. at our introductory dinner that night, i didn't talk about my work in the hope of convincing everyone i deserved to be there, which was what i would've done a few years before. instead we all ended up talking about a TV show. the most highbrow place i've ever been in my life, and we're getting wine drunk and discussing at length a cheesy discovery channel reality series. the guggenheim winner: loves box turtles. the guy who's published 12 books: his favorite movie is Spirited Away. the girl who published a book at 19: reads One Direction fanfic. the well-lauded poet: old school tumblrina.

actually, 4 out of 7 of us read fanfic and we had some great conversations about it. sometime i'll tell you about introducing the co-director of the residency to AO3.

when you think of the most accomplished and successful writer you've ever read, remember that they are, at the very core of their being, a nerd. and if you were to eat dinner with them, you would, with enough polite inquisitiveness, be able to unlock the goofy side of them that binges Property Brothers.

so that was the big change for me, i think. i started asking a lot of questions. i stopped talking and i started listening. it seems counterintuitive that admitting to not knowing stuff shows confidence, but it does. pretending you know stuff is what looks insecure. i think for me, i put so much of myself in my work, i wanted my work to be lauded so i could feel accomplished, and feeling accomplishment would let me believe i deserved to exist. but over time, i've reframed that mentality. my work is a thing that exists beyond me and is private to those who read it. it comes from me, but it is not me. what i am is just the person i am, and my life is a series of moments i choose for myself, and i am allowed to exist.

even sending this ask shows that you've begun filling your well. it takes someone who's already come a long way to realize jealousy isn't the status quo and is a feeling to be overcome. and you can overcome it. you can reach a place where you have enough success that other people's success has nothing to do with you, and you're free to just be happy for them. and when you read work that's better than yours you feel joy at learning something new.

so put your work into the world and let it be rejected. you'll rack up a couple wins or close calls, and those will give you energy to be rejected some more. and eventually you'll be rejected so much that rejection doesn't feel like anything, and you will have won enough to realize your work has a place in the world, and that place is no bigger or smaller than anyone else's. your work is allowed to exist simply as it is, and you are allowed to exist simply as you are.

[occamstfs]

Higher Education

Bit of a belated 4/20 TF! Reliving the heady days of his weed-filled youth may not help a professor's tenure track. Enjoy! -Occam

It had been quite a while since Richard had cut himself some slack. He was on track to be tenured and the obligations and rigor involved gave him little time to himself. His department has really become more of a family to him than his estranged once loved ones. He spends more waking hours in this office than any room of his spacious home. Today he’s burning the midnight oil yet again as he mars a doctoral candidate’s thesis draft in red ink.

Seeing just how much of a scarlet mess he has left for this poor student he pauses to make himself a cup of tea. He certainly doesn’t want to be seen as too critical or crotchety, though he feels assured that his students know this. Upon returning to his desk he finds a small wrapped gift box resting squarely on the marked up essay. He knows precisely who it is from and chuckles as he looks at the kitschy weed-themed wrapping paper. 

Picking it up he hears something small and light shake around in the box. The tag reads: “Happy 4-20 Old Man, why not live a little- your favorite Candidate, Mac.” Slowly unwrapping it Richard smiles wistfully as he recalls way way back to when he was in undergrad. Walking down smoke filled dorm hallways bleary-eyed as he contributes to it. Just smoking grass on the main lawn welcoming anyone to open their minds at these little sessions. An alarm goes off on his computer shaking him from his reverie as he sets the gift down to respond to the pile of emails that have accrued today.

Richard begins his cookie-cutter responses to colleagues, scratching backs and brown nosing as need be to advance his own career. Not too long into this dull work however does he begin to smell that unmistakable skunky scent coming from Mac’s half opened gift. He scoffs and rolls his eyes, shocked that his subordinate would fully shepherd drugs into his office before pausing to remember that weed is legal here, in this state at least. He tosses the box in the bag making sure the scent can’t escape as he returns his attention to the ocean of busywork.

He cannot find purchase however as he finds himself impossibly distracted, the tea he made tastes bitter in his mouth and every so often he smells a whiff of the joint hiding in his bag. Richard rushes through a couple of responses before checking the clock and realizing Mac was right, partly that is. He can afford to head out a little early. It is a holiday of his youth after all, he thinks to himself smiling mischievously as he grabs his coat and heads to his home. 

Tenured he may not be but he makes enough to live incredibly close to campus. It’s about five so theoretically the work day is over anyway, but he lives close enough that should there be need he could easily return. He would be happy to even, he puts his hand in the bag and fingers the ripped paper of the gift box. Patting it as if to say maybe another time, though resolving to chew out Mac for such an inappropriate gift. 

Tossing his bag on a chair and entering his quiet home he pours himself a drink and heads to watch the daily news. As soon as it touches his lips though he spits it out all over himself. It was beyond revolting, for the life in him he can’t figure out why though? It’s what he always has as a treat isn’t it? He wipes up his mess and grills himself as to what on Earth caused him to do that. Going down the list of possibilities he finds himself distracted as wafting from his open bag is the impossibly alluring scent of Mac’s joint. 

For a time he just sits and stares at his bag, mulling over any real consequences there could be to just letting himself smoke just this once. He’s sure his colleague Dr. Bennet can barely go a school week without smoking away at least a day. Flicking the metaphorical angel off his shoulder he decides to go for it. It’s just one joint, what could possibly go awry.

The doctor takes one massive hit and remembers that whatever the kids are smoking today is leagues more intense than the kush he had back when. He coughs heartily and stumbles into his kitchen to get some water, smiling as he remembers the old adage that coughing actually gets you higher. He pours a cup for himself, spilling a tad over the counter and neglecting to clean it up.

Richard decides to throw on a record before returning to his joint once more. God he remembers loving nothing more than just sitting and watching his wax spin on his player as smoke danced in the air. He reclines back and immediately feels more at home. He’s lived here for almost a decade now and never has he felt more comfortable than this moment. He laughs at himself wondering why he’s waited so long to smoke again. Maybe he should text Mac and thank him?

At this his phone rings and he sobers up almost immediately, his first couple hits washed away as he sees a text from his department head. He holds the joint with his lips as he uses both hands to unlock his phone, smoke sailing wistfully past his eyes as he starts to read it. Sitting there looking at the bright screen of his phone alongside the ever increasing smoke though his eyes quickly dry and he sets it down. How important could it be anyway? The workday is over; he is under no obligation to respond, he reasons. Surely it’s nothing. He sets his phone down and goes to lie back on the couch and listen to his old music, taking another massive hit.

He struggles to kick his shoes off as they suddenly grow uncomfortable on his feet, almost as if they were a couple sizes too small, that can’t be right though as if his feet were growing in his old age. He laughs at the idea, picturing clown feet at the bottom of his thin legs, not seeing in reality that his feet are starting to strain his socks. Nor could he possibly notice as their odor begins to mingle with the overpowering smell of weed filling his den.

His phone vibrates again and he furrows his brow before his eyes glaze over as intended. His clothes all over begin to feel a little uncomfortable on his body. He grimaces wondering what exactly the move is before duh, this is his house! He hits himself on his head as he decides to just strip, he was always half naked smoking outdoors back then he may as well do so in his own house. Taking off his clothes he doesn’t notice as there is a skip in the record as it changes, the grooves warp, harden, and shrink as his pristine record collection diminishes into a massive, slightly disheveled CD collection. Richard certainly doesn't notice as he scratches at his chest, the only thought in his head as he rips his joint once more is “Man, I love this song.”

He giggles once more as he hears his stomach rumble and he recalls what a persistent issue the munchies have always been for him. In fact it was one of the reasons he quit back in his grad school, he simply couldn’t afford all the weed along with the food budget that satisfying his cravings demanded. Shouldn’t be a problem now though, he thinks, he is an, uh? Pausing as the haziness sets in his eyes burning pink as the thoughts in his head slow. He’s a professor right? Though his mind slows he continues his steady crawl to raid whatever snacks lie in his cabinet.

There he, surprisingly, finds a stoner’s paradise. The shelves are lined with chips and cheap pastries beyond imagination. He once more holds the joint in his mouth as he reaches deep to double fist some bags of chips, tacitly continuing to smoke as his stomach rumbles in jubilation. In his gluttony he drops bags to the floor and laughs letting the joint fall to the floor wondering if the five second rule applies to weed, guffawing some more. He hears his own voice in his head telling him to keep it down but as if he’s going to listen to that square.

He turns up his CD player’s stereo in protest as his inner monologue grows more agitated. Dude you’ve gotta turn it down, you share a wall with the neighbors. He stuffs his hand in the potato chips and starts devouring them as he reflects on this. Shares a wall? But that would be he lives in a duplex, or wait? He looks around his place and sees it smaller than he remembers it, right? Continuing to scarf chips getting grease all over his hands and face as, so far beyond his notice, it begins to produce more oil itself than it has in decades. 

Continuing to snack he hears his phone ring as his boss is fully calling him now. Stumbling up and over to his phone Richard doesn’t notice as his thighs begin to fill his underwear. He had lost a lot of weight from his long years of working and now that he is finally indulging once more it seems a healthy weight is returning. Rubbing together as he makes his way to the couch, the friction draws his attention to just how pleasurable physicality is when he’s high. Gosh he needed this. 

He grows distracted as he arrives at the couch, his phone stops ringing before starting up again as his Department head calls once more. Seeing her contact picture appear he says aloud, “whatever bitch” laughing like an ass as he hangs up on her and sets his phone to do-not-disturb. Once more there is a buzz in the air as the music set up changes once more. Phone now in hand he starts to play music the only way he has ever known, wrinkles and the few gray hairs that remained totally disappearing from his face as he presses skip on his phone and is awash in adoration as his all time favorite album starts playing. 

He sits there and just takes in the music as he rubs his slightly distended stomach. Grimacing as he thinks he should start hitting the gym. He hears Mac all the time talking about how much he loves hitting the gym high. His heart suddenly flutters as he thinks about Mac and grows giggly again. He feels a pang in his head that such behavior is inappropriate. He is a prof- He’s a? His mind strains to recall what exactly he is. His eyes search the room looking for any hints before landing on the TV seeing the Daily News that has been playing through it all suddenly turn to static before coalescing into the video game Mac was always talking his ear off about in office hours. In the once professors mind though the only thought present is, Fuck! I love this game!

Energy surges through his body as he searches for a playstation remote. His pulse races as his excitement grows and he feels a desperate urge to stretch. He feels as his tendons extend. Rubbing his arms across his torso he feels his increased weight begin to coalesce into firm yet weighty muscle. His hands twitch and scratch against his increasing strength as he controls on the couch, moaning and laughing at just how lascivious this pleasure is, his voice vibrating deeper as the pitch of the song and video game blast louder in his head. Haha wait a second, he thinks, I’m so fuckin’ sore I must already be going to the gym faded with Mac right?

He blushes and stretches some more, feeling his back arch and his tight torso stretches to its limit before surging beyond it. His arms raised behind his head they grasp at air and feel the sought after remote and a hat which he instinctively throws on. Ah this hat is Mac’s isn’t it! He is briefly confused once more as he tries to remember what exactly his relationship is with Mac. It’s? He’s, are they roommates? Rich looks around the room, eyes shifting to where there once was a record collection, no a CD stand? Why would he need either of those though haha, as if Mac’s apartment has space for that!

Mac’s apartment. The thought repeats many times over in his mind and his eye twitches as he feels a pain that the high cannot make pleasurable. Grimacing, he decides to try and focus on the game. Black ink slowly staining his body as he clicks buttons. After little time at all though he realizes, fuck, it’s been so long since he’d hit that joint hasn’t it?

Pausing his game he uses his bleary eyes to scan his apartment floor for the roach. He didn’t drop it in the chip bag did he? He checks far too quickly to possibly see it before giving up. There’s gotta be an easier way to smoke some more right? Out of the corner of his eye he sees the rocks glass he was using as a stupid smile inches across his face. Through the haze in the room the only thing Rich can see when looking at such a cylinder is a bong. Rich reaches for it, the glass growing taller and embellishing as he does. In a fluid motion he snatches it and starts to stumble around and look for a lighter. 

Lucky for him in Mac’s apartment they seem to be scattered around as if they were decoration. Thinking of Mac his mind is a sea of conflict again and there is a sudden urge, a craving, a need to smoke right now. He lights the bowl and before he even inhales from the beyond filthy bong he is at ease once more. Smoke rocketing into his lungs he holds back a coughing fit before a giggle breaks the line and he loses control. 

Between each cough he feels himself lose something. He sees Mac and laughs at the idea that he could ever be in charge. Mac’s older than him, right? He sees an unfamiliar house that he could never afford as it turns to static and shrinks into a small one bedroom apartment that doesn’t even have his name on the lease. He sees a degree he sees multiple degrees and not only can he not imagine himself having the willpower to get them, he laughs at the idea that he would even want to sit through a single college course. Smoke fills the air as if he were hotboxing the apartment and he rubs his body as hair pushes its way out of his skin. He needs to shave, Mac like him smooth. 

Feeling his body once more, flexing his bare body against the couch and rubbing his hands across his itchy stomach smiling without a care in the world or a thought in his head he hears a key turn in the front door. His eyes stay closed as his smile grows wider and the only man, the only thing, that matters to him in the world approaches. Mac stands over him, dressed in a suit as he clearly came from the campus and says, “Miss me, Dick?”

Dick’s eyes burst open more bloodshot than could possibly be healthy and he stares wordlessly, longingly, into the eyes of the man domineering over him. He’s a little confused at what the smirk on his face could mean, but Dick is confused most of the time, so he’ll just wait for Mac to explain! 

He doesn’t. Mac leans in close to Dick’s ear and just whispers, “Happy 4-20 Doc. Thanks for giving in.” Then puts his mouth over Dick’s before his mind could even recognize the words being said. He loses control instantly without a hand touches his cock as it expands heartily, no underwear to hold it or his cum back as he forevermore loses control over his mind, of his life. Not that he minds, how bad could life be with someone as nice and great as Mac watching over him! The two continue to make out on Mac’s couch, not caring for the cleanliness of the suit as the bong is knocked onto the table. From now on there is little at all that Dick would care about at all besides his master, his Mac.

[nickeverdeen]

Dating yandere TUA characters

Luther Hargreeves

Luther insists on training you to be strong and capable, just like him

He believes that the only way you can be safe is if you can defend yourself

He constantly pushes you beyond your limits, often to the point of exhaustion, but he sees it as necessary to protect you

Luther frequently brings up shared memories, emphasizing how much you mean to him and how special your bond is

He uses these memories to create a sense of dependency, making it seem like no one else understands or cares for you as deeply as he does

As the de facto leader of the Hargreeves siblings, Luther naturally takes charge

He extends this authority into your relationship, making decisions on your behalf and expecting you to comply without question

He believes he knows what’s best for you and often dismisses your opinions

Luther talks about your future together as if it’s already decided, with plans for marriage, children, and a shared life

He doesn’t seek your input on these plans, instead presenting them as inevitable and perfect, making it hard for you to voice any doubts or objections

Luther loves taking you on spontaneous trips to remote and isolated places where you can be alone together

These adventures are meant to be romantic, but they also serve to keep you away from others and make you more reliant on him

He collects and cherishes items that remind him of you, like a lock of your hair, a piece of your clothing, or a note you wrote

He keeps these mementos in a secret box, often looking at them to feel closer to you

Luther overanalyzes your interactions with others, always on the lookout for potential threats

He questions you about your relationships and can become paranoid, interpreting innocent actions as signs of betrayal or disinterest

Luther needs constant reassurance of your love and commitment

He frequently asks if you love him and requires you to demonstrate your affection through words and actions, making it difficult for you to express any dissatisfaction or desire for space

Luther often physically places himself between you and perceived dangers, whether it’s a person or a situation

His protective nature can be comforting, but it also isolates you and limits your freedom

Luther exaggerates situations to make himself your hero

He might create problems just so he can solve them and reinforce the idea that you need him to protect and save you

Luther intervenes in your life decisions, believing he knows what’s best for you

This includes your career, friends, and hobbies

He frames his control as care and concern, making it hard for you to see his actions as manipulative

Luther buys you clothes and insists you wear them, often choosing items that reflect his taste and preferences

He wants to shape your appearance to fit his ideal image of you

Luther keeps a secret box filled with mementos from your relationship, like movie tickets, dried flowers, and photos

He looks at these items to feel closer to you and to remind himself of your bond

Without your knowledge, Luther sets up cameras in your home to monitor you and “ensure your safety”

He justifies this invasion of privacy as a necessary precaution to protect you

Luther establishes strict traditions in your relationship, like weekly date nights or annual trips, which you must follow

These traditions create a sense of routine and stability but also limit your autonomy

Luther pushes you to integrate deeply with his family, encouraging you to spend more time with his siblings and less with your own family and friends

This isolates you from your support network and makes you more dependent on him

Luther is obsessed with monitoring your health, from your diet to your exercise routine

He insists on accompanying you to doctor’s appointments and making decisions about your healthcare

When you’re apart, Luther floods you with messages and calls, demanding constant updates on your whereabouts and activities

This makes it difficult for you to have any personal space or privacy

Luther uses his own emotions to guilt you into compliance

If you try to assert your independence or express dissatisfaction, he reacts with hurt and disappointment, making you feel responsible for his feelings

Luther demands your loyalty and commitment without providing the same in return

He expects you to prioritize him above all else, even if it means sacrificing your own needs and desires

Luther manages your social media presence, deciding what you can and cannot post

He wants to control how you present yourself to the world and ensure that your online interactions align with his expectations

Diego Hargreeves

Diego is always armed and ready to ‘protect’ you from any slight inconvenience or perceived threat

He believes that being physically prepared is the best way to keep you safe, and his protective instincts can be overwhelming

He regularly tests your self-defense skills under the guise of safety

Diego insists on teaching you how to fight and defend yourself, often putting you through rigorous and sometimes dangerous training sessions

Diego secretly patrols around your neighborhood at night, watching over your home to ensure you’re safe

He often goes to great lengths to remain unseen, creating a sense of security but also a feeling of being constantly watched

Diego follows you silently to ensure your safety

He believes that by shadowing you, he can prevent any potential harm

This behavior can be unsettling, making you feel like you can never truly be alone

He conducts surprise safety drills to prepare you for ‘emergencies’

Diego might suddenly stage a mock attack or evacuation, expecting you to react quickly and correctly

Diego turns dates into elaborate missions, incorporating elements of danger and excitement

While he sees this as a way to bond, it often puts you in stressful and uncomfortable situations

He insists on checking the perimeter of any place you go together, whether it’s a restaurant, park, or even your own home

Diego’s need to secure every environment can be exhausting and intrusive

Diego challenges those who he thinks are getting too close to you

He becomes aggressive and confrontational, often picking fights with anyone he perceives as a threat to your relationship

Diego attempts to control the paths you take in life, from your career choices to your social interactions

He believes that he knows what’s best for you and tries to steer you accordingly

He gifts you weapons disguised as thoughtful presents, like a stylish knife or a discreet taser

Diego sees these gifts as practical and necessary, though they might make you uncomfortable

Diego enlists friends to watch over you without your knowledge

He creates a network of people who report back to him about your activities and interactions, making it hard for you to have any privacy

Diego obsessively checks the safety of your environment, from inspecting your home for vulnerabilities to researching crime rates in areas you visit

His constant vigilance can make you feel suffocated

He keeps a detailed journal of your daily activities, noting where you go and who you meet

Diego’s meticulous tracking is framed as a way to ensure your safety, but it feels more like surveillance

Diego enforces strict boundaries on who can interact with you, often forbidding you from seeing certain friends or family members

He believes that by controlling your social circle, he can better protect you

Diego gets you a dog to ‘protect’ you, training it to be fiercely loyal and vigilant

While the dog provides companionship, it also serves as another means of control and surveillance

He sabotages your tech so you can only rely on him

Diego might interfere with your phone, computer, or internet connection, making it difficult for you to communicate or seek help

Diego insists on accompanying you everywhere as a bodyguard, even to mundane places like the grocery store

His constant presence is meant to ensure your safety but also limits your freedom

He follows you in disguise to avoid detection

Diego goes to great lengths to remain hidden while keeping an eye on you, often lurking in the background of your daily life

Diego dictates where and when you can go out, planning all your outings to fit his schedule and ensure your safety

This limits your spontaneity and ability to make independent decisions

He forms alliances with those he deems safe for you, encouraging you to spend time with them while isolating you from others

Diego’s strategic friendships are meant to create a controlled social environment

Diego lies to protect you from ‘dangerous’ truths, often hiding information or manipulating facts

He believes that by controlling what you know, he can keep you safe and reliant on him

Allison Hargreeves

Allison uses her power to ‘rumor’ you into believing you’re deeply in love with her and need her constant presence

She manipulates your thoughts and feelings to ensure you stay loyal and dependent on her

She meticulously curates your public image, deciding what you wear, how you present yourself, and even what you say

Allison wants to create a perfect picture of your relationship for others to admire

Allison manipulates your social interactions, ensuring you’re surrounded only by people she approves of

She subtly influences your friendships and relationships to maintain control over your social life

She uses her connections and influence to shape your career path

Allison might secure opportunities for you or sabotage potential threats, making you feel indebted to her for your success

Allison often brings up emotional moments from your past to keep you anchored to her

She reminds you of how she supported you through tough times, making it hard for you to imagine life without her

She involves you in her personal projects and passions, making sure your lives are deeply intertwined

Allison wants to ensure you spend most of your time and energy on things that matter to her

She subtly rumors you into developing interests and hobbies that align with hers

Allison shapes your preferences and desires to ensure you’re always on the same page

She uses her power to create misunderstandings and conflicts between you and others, isolating you from potential threats

Allison believes that by keeping you isolated, she can ensure your loyalty

Allison frequently engages in public displays of affection and declarations of love

She wants everyone to see how perfect your relationship is, creating pressure for you to maintain that image

She uses her powers to manipulate your emotions during arguments, ensuring you always come back to her

Allison can make you feel guilty, sad, or euphoric with just a few words

Allison insists on constant communication, flooding you with texts and calls throughout the day

She wants to know every detail of your life and ensure you’re always thinking about her

She shares personal secrets and expects you to do the same, creating a sense of intimacy and trust

Allison uses these secrets to bond you closer to her and to manipulate your emotions

She establishes strict routines and rituals in your relationship, from daily phone calls to weekly date nights

Allison believes that by creating a predictable pattern, she can maintain control

She offers support in ways that subtly sabotage your independence

Allison might take care of things for you, making you reliant on her help and diminishing your ability to function without her

She rumors you to have dreams and aspirations that align with hers

Allison shapes your goals and ambitions, ensuring you’re always working towards a future that includes her

Allison invests heavily in your emotional well-being, offering constant support and encouragement

She makes herself indispensable, so you feel you can’t succeed without her

She creates and reinforces positive memories of your relationship, often planning elaborate events and surprises

Allison wants you to look back on your time together with fondness and gratitude

She rumors others to be jealous of your relationship, making you feel special and valued

Allison uses this tactic to create a sense of exclusivity and pride in your bond

She tells protective lies to keep you from potential harm or distress

Allison believes that by controlling what you know, she can shield you from anything that might threaten your happiness or their relationship

She frames her controlling behavior as compassion and care

Allison insists she’s doing everything for your benefit, making it hard for you to see her actions as manipulative

She pressures you to be perfect in every aspect of your life, reflecting her own need for control and image maintenance

Allison’s high expectations make it difficult for you to relax or be yourself

Klaus Hargreeves

Klaus creates a sense of emotional dependency by being your primary source of comfort and joy

He makes you feel that only he can understand and alleviate your emotional pain

Klaus’s behavior is erratic and unpredictable, making you constantly guess what will make him happy

This keeps you on edge and focused on pleasing him

He introduces you to his vices, such as drinking or partying, creating a bond over shared indulgences

Klaus uses these activities to keep you close and reliant on him for fun and excitement

Klaus emphasizes a deep, spiritual connection between you, claiming that your souls are meant to be together

He often talks about past lives and fate to reinforce this idea

He uses his own emotional ups and downs to manipulate your feelings

Klaus’s mood swings keep you constantly attentive and eager to make him happy

Klaus isolates you from others by monopolizing your time and attention

He makes you feel guilty for spending time with anyone else, insisting that you only need him

Klaus creates art, music, or poetry for you, making you feel special and unique

He uses these creative expressions to keep you emotionally invested in the relationship

He insists on being with you constantly, whether in person or through frequent texts and calls

Klaus makes it difficult for you to have any personal space or time alone

He gives you eccentric and meaningful gifts that only he could think of, reinforcing the idea that your relationship is unique and special

Klaus convinces you that your love is different from everyone else’s, using this belief to justify his unconventional and often controlling behavior

He creates or exaggerates emotional crises to keep you focused on him

Klaus frequently needs your support and reassurance, making you feel indispensable

Klaus makes you feel spiritually dependent on him, claiming that he can connect with the afterlife and provide insights that no one else can

He insists on late-night conversations that leave you emotionally drained but deeply connected

Klaus uses these talks to explore your deepest fears and desires

Klaus creates a chaotic environment that keeps you off balance and reliant on him for stability

He thrives in disorder and ensures you’re always part of it

He deflects blame for his erratic behavior onto external forces or other people, making you feel protective and understanding towards him

Klaus involves you in spiritual rituals or ceremonies, creating a sense of shared purpose and exclusivity

These rituals reinforce your bond and dependence on him

He needs constant reassurance of your love and loyalty, making you feel responsible for his emotional well-being

Klaus engages in dramatic displays of affection and devotion, making you feel like the center of his universe

He becomes your secret keeper, encouraging you to share your innermost thoughts and fears with him

Klaus uses this information to deepen your emotional bond

He takes you on spontaneous and eccentric adventures, making your life feel exciting but also unpredictable and dependent on his whims

Five Hargreeves

Five views you as his timeless possession, someone who belongs to him across all timelines

He often speaks about your destiny together and how he’s seen every possible future where you end up together

He strategically isolates you from others, using his intelligence to create situations where you’re dependent on him

Five ensures that you rely on him for problem-solving and guidance

Five dominates conversations with his intelligence, making you feel inferior and dependent on his knowledge and decisions

He manipulates time to keep you close, altering events to ensure you always end up together

Five uses his powers to control your environment and interactions

Five constantly talks about the future he envisions for you both, making plans that leave no room for your own desires or independence

He calculates every possible threat to your safety and takes preemptive actions, often without your knowledge

Five’s protective nature borders on paranoia

Five uses his time travel abilities to observe you without being seen, ensuring you’re safe and loyal

His unseen presence makes you feel watched even when you’re alone

He strategically creates jealousy by mentioning other versions of you he’s encountered in different timelines, making you feel special but also insecure

Five engages you in intellectual games and puzzles, reinforcing your dependency on his intelligence and making you feel bonded through shared activities

He gives you gifts from different timelines, unique items that make you feel cherished but also remind you of his power and control

Five involves you in calculated risks and adventures, making you feel alive and dependent on his skills for survival

He plays mind games to keep you emotionally and mentally engaged, ensuring you’re always thinking about him and your relationship

Five keeps secrets under the guise of protecting you, creating a sense of mystery and dependency on his knowledge

He tells stories of alternate timelines where things went wrong, using these narratives to justify his controlling behavior

Five influences your decisions and actions without you realizing it, subtly steering your life in the direction he wants

He uses his abilities to constantly surveil you, ensuring you’re always safe but also under his control

Five creates an intellectual bond by sharing his knowledge and experiences, making you feel connected on a deeper level

He manipulates time to create perfect moments and memories, making it hard for you to imagine life without him

Five’s protection is calculated and strategic, ensuring you’re always in situations where you need him

He controls your emotions by altering events and interactions, ensuring you always feel dependent on his presence and support

Five’s commitment is timeless, making you feel like your relationship transcends all boundaries and time itself

Ben Hargreeves

Ben uses his sensitivity to create a deep emotional bond, making you feel like he’s the only one who truly understands you

Even in death, Ben’s presence is felt, making you feel watched and protected

He often communicates through signs and messages, ensuring you never forget him

Ben shares his grief and struggles with you, creating a bond over mutual pain and understanding

He emphasizes a spiritual connection, claiming that your souls are linked and that you’re meant to be together even beyond death

Ben uses his emotions to manipulate yours, making you feel guilty or responsible for his happiness

He’s always there to comfort you, creating a dependency on his presence and support

He uses emotional anchors, such as shared memories or significant events, to keep you connected to him

Ben’s protective nature is overwhelming, ensuring you’re always safe but also limiting your freedom

Even when not physically present, Ben’s influence is felt, making you feel like he’s always watching over you

He emphasizes shared goals and dreams, making you feel like your futures are intertwined

Ben offers spiritual guidance, making you feel like you need his wisdom and insight to navigate life

He creates a sense of emotional dependency, making you feel like you can’t be happy or complete without him

Ben needs constant reassurance of your love and loyalty, making you feel responsible for his emotional well-being

He keeps and cherishes shared memories, often bringing them up to reinforce your bond

Ben is always there to provide emotional support, making you reliant on his presence and guidance

He creates an invisible bond, ensuring you always feel connected to him even when apart

Ben shares his pain and struggles, creating a sense of mutual understanding and dependency

He tells protective lies to keep you safe, making you feel like he’s always looking out for you

Ben often sacrifices his own happiness for yours, making you feel indebted and responsible for his well-being

He makes you feel spiritually dependent on him, creating a sense of belonging and purpose in your relationship

Viktor Hargreeves

Viktor creates an emotional symbiosis, making you feel like your happiness and well-being are intertwined

He constantly seeks reassurance and validation from you, making you feel responsible for his emotional state

Viktor is fiercely protective, often to the point of overbearing

He insists on knowing your whereabouts and who you’re with at all times, justifying his behavior as concern for your safety

He shares his deepest fears and insecurities with you, creating a bond over mutual vulnerability

Viktor uses this emotional intimacy to keep you close and dependent on his presence

Viktor becomes your main source of support, both emotionally and practically

He’s always there to help you with your problems, making you feel like you can’t manage without him

He often revisits significant memories from your relationship, emphasizing how much you mean to him

Viktor uses these memories to remind you of your bond and to guilt you into staying with him

Viktor encourages you to share in his musical talents, making you feel special and unique

He uses this shared activity to create a deeper connection and to keep you engaged in his world

He becomes your emotional anchor, the person you turn to in times of distress

Viktor’s constant presence and support make you feel like you can’t face challenges without him

Viktor subtly isolates you from others, encouraging you to spend more time with him and less with friends and family

He creates a world where it feels like it’s just the two of you against everyone else

He needs constant reassurance of your love and commitment, often questioning your loyalty

Viktor’s insecurity makes you feel like you must constantly prove your affection

Viktor sacrifices his own needs and desires for yours, making you feel indebted to him

His selflessness creates a sense of obligation and loyalty on your part

He shares his past traumas and expects you to do the same, creating a bond over shared pain and healing

Viktor’s openness makes you feel like you’re the only one who truly understands him

Viktor tells small lies to protect you from harsh truths, believing it’s for your own good

His protective nature can feel suffocating as he tries to shield you from anything that might cause you distress

He manipulates your emotions to keep you close, using guilt, fear, and love to control your actions

Viktor’s emotional intelligence allows him to subtly influence your feelings and decisions

Viktor provides stability in your life, making you feel like you can’t function without his presence

His calming influence becomes a crutch that you rely on heavily

He establishes routines and traditions that you both follow, creating a sense of normalcy and predictability

Viktor’s routines make it difficult for you to imagine life without him

Viktor insists on constant tracking where you are and contact, whether through texts, calls, or in person

He makes you feel like you need to be in touch with him at all times to maintain the relationship

He bonds with you over deep, emotional conversations, making you feel like he’s the only one who truly understands you

Viktor’s empathy and understanding create a strong emotional connection

Viktor takes protective measures to ensure your safety, such as checking in on you frequently and advising you on who to trust

His protective behavior can make you feel like you’re always under his watchful eye

He creates a sense of emotional dependency, making you feel like you can’t be happy without him

Viktor’s constant presence and support make it difficult for you to imagine life on your own

Viktor shares intimate secrets and expects you to do the same, creating a bond of trust and vulnerability

His openness makes you feel like you’re the only one who truly knows him

He uses emotional blackmail to keep you close, threatening to harm or kill himself or leave if you try to distance yourself

Viktor’s manipulation creates a sense of fear and obligation, making it hard for you to break free

Lila Pitts

Lila creates an emotional whirlwind around you, making every day unpredictable

Her volatile emotions keep you constantly engaged and focused on her

Lila’s behavior is highly unpredictable, keeping you on edge and dependent on her for stability

She swings between affection and anger, making you feel like you need to constantly please her

She uses affection as a tool to manipulate you, showering you with love when you comply with her wishes and withdrawing it when you don’t

Lila takes you on emotional highs and lows, creating a sense of dependency on her for your emotional well-being

She involves you in her adventures and schemes, making you feel like an essential part of her world

Lila’s thrill-seeking behavior keeps you constantly engaged

Lila creates constant drama in your relationship, making you feel like you need to be there to support and calm her

She demands unwavering loyalty from you, often testing your commitment through manipulative means

Lila plays emotional games to keep you on your toes, using jealousy, guilt, and affection to control your behavior

She isolates you from others by creating conflicts with your friends and family, ensuring you rely solely on her

Lila creates intense bonding experiences, making you feel like you share a unique and unbreakable connection

She makes you emotionally dependent on her, ensuring you can’t imagine life without her presence and support

Lila shares and demands intimate secrets, creating a bond of trust and manipulation

She manipulates your emotions to keep you close, using affection, guilt, and fear to control your actions

Lila insists on constant contact, ensuring you’re always thinking about her and your relationship

She controls your emotions by creating situations that elicit specific reactions, making you feel like she’s the only one who truly understands you

Lila’s love is unpredictable, swinging between intense affection and cold detachment, making you constantly strive for her approval

She shares intimate secrets and expects you to do the same, creating a bond of trust and dependency

She tells protective lies to keep you safe, making you feel like she’s always looking out for you

Lila emphasizes shared goals and dreams, making you feel like your futures are intertwined

She provides emotional support, making you feel like you can’t face challenges without her presence and guidance

[blossom-hwa]

melody of the heart [2] | k.th

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

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

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

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

You swallow. “What is going on?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My lady—

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

You certainly hope so too. 

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

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

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

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

. . . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a moment, Taehyun forgets how to breathe. 

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

And it was well worth it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . . 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What does that even mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unlikely. But you wish for it all the same. 

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The duchess remains silent. 

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

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

Dumbly, you nod. 

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

Slowly you nod again. 

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Yes?”

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

Your cheeks suddenly feel hot. “…Yes.”

“Is it Lord Kang?”

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

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

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

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

You listen, rapt. 

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

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

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

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

. . . . .

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

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

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

Miss L/N?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinks. “Of course.”

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

Taehyun almost chokes on his drink. “What—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyun’s cheeks burn.

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

. . . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miss L/N—

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

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

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

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

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

. . . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyun frowns. “Your dowry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is the least you deserve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if he already said no? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod slowly, your heart full to bursting already. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . . . .

epilogue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[maxarchive]

MAX-IMUM ATTACK 2017 Season Photos and words by Darren Heath

Monday lunchtime, Heathrow Terminal 5. Standing next to the slowly revolving baggage carousel, a fresh-faced, slightly awkward-looking - just out of his teens - young man is awaiting the arrival of his chattels.

Dressed in bland black trainers, similarly hued skinny jeans and an oversized hoody, this Young Turk ain’t winning any style awards. iPhone in hand, he’s busy swiping the screen in that head-bowed social media style billions of us now ‘enjoy’.

Max Verstappen doesn’t really do flash. He couldn’t look more ‘normal’. Yet put him in a racing car and he’s just about the most special talent to arrive on motor racing’s top step for decades.

Schumacher-esque – Michael of course! – is a term increasingly heard up and down the F1 paddock, such is the impact the Netherlands’ premier sportsman is now making.

I can see it too.

The fresh-faced 16-year-old boy who was, upon his arrival, so ignorantly dismissed by many within the sport is rapidly becoming a man. It’s amazing how quickly young sportsmen living life in the public gaze assume adulthood. Just take a look at Sebastian Vettel. The gawky kid of 2009 became the handsome dude of 2010!

What sets the potentially great apart from the mediocre? What makes Max Verstappen so, so much more special than, say, Carlos Sainz?

I guess it’s the whole package: the look; the mien; the steely character honed to be a racer almost from before he could walk; the utterly uncompromising way he dismisses any questioning of his racecraft; the toys-out-of-the-pram reaction to harsh penalties; the fast straight-out-of-the-box attacking style; and the rapier-like overtaking ability, the like of which we haven’t seen for many a year. Such was Max’s impact on the art of passing and defending, the rules had to be rewritten!

The way the car looks through the turns, the application of throttle, steering and immensely late braking. Metronomic in his blisteringly fast lap time delivery, this boy has the lot. He IS the future of Formula 1.

In so, so many ways – but let’s hope not all – Max is the new MSC.

Racing in an aggressive and forceful style often results in on-track contretemps with some of his more seasoned rivals. No matter, Max takes no prisoners, batting away questions about the legality of some of his racing moves with a dismissive arrogance that’s strangely appealing in its delivery.

Up to speed now and surely making Dan Ricciardo question his team-leading abilities, Verstappen is unquestionably Red Bull’s main man.

Off-track too, Max is sorted. Guided by his F1-experienced father, the young Verstappen has an able and well-qualified navigator at the helm. Learning from his own ill-advised 1990s F1 driving career decisions, Jos pays absolute attention so as to ensure his son maximises the opportunities on offer.

With top-drawer drivers in short supply, Red Bull had better make damned sure their 2019-and-beyond engine supply is top-notch. The bidding war for Max’s signature is already in full swing. Ferrari and Mercedes are enviously eyeing the Dutchman’s abilities with covetous desire.

It’s easy to forget that Max is only 20 years old. Way ahead in racing driver maturity - a relative term! – than so many millions of a similar age, Max has appeared mentally developed beyond his years since first he appeared in the F1 paddock at Spa 2014. It struck me then how entirely capable this 16-year-old boy was dealing with multiple language questions and untold camera lenses. Listening to his interrogator politely before answering calmly and intelligently, Max appeared born to the role…

Fast forward to now and Verstappen is a multiple grand prix winner and 2018 title-chasing challenger. Part of the new breed of F1 racers, Max leads the pack. Publicly respectful of his rivals, although privately dismissive of many, he well knows his place among the potentially great.

Michael Schumacher once opined – in an interview I photographed – that his father had advised him to heed well the arrival on the scene of the next great talent. The one who’d challenge and quickly replace the dominant male. Well, Lewis, Sebastian and Fernando, that man has arrived.

You’d best heed Herr Schumacher’s words well…

[livin4woso]

Chapter 1- breaking the media

You knew that clubs would be interested in you but definitely not this one. You were 16 and playing for arsenal after transferring there when you were 13. You started your career off at sunderland your home club with the aspirations to be like the many legends from sunderland including beth mead, lucy bronze, Jordan nobbs there were plenty to idolise so when arsenal had offered you a place on the u16s at 13 you couldn't resist. Your parents had very little care for the fact such a large club was interested with you and had no intention to move from the north east to london so therefore sent you to a foster home for your time at arsenal. The people who you had lived with were amazing and at some points you believed they were better than your own biological parents who gave no interest in your career and no care for you in general.

Your time at arsenal was amazing you were flying through the age groups and here you landed on the first team of arsenal. Now maybe this was due to the plenty of injuries of the backline and of laura the right back which just so happened to be where you played on the pitch that lead you to your debut but you were estatic to say the least. You only played half the game but didn't mean that you couldn't leave your mark on the pitch you had executed the perfect slide tackle on lauren hemp swiftly removing the ball from her feet as she edged nearer to the box.

That tackle had left jonas an impression and many other teams beyond the wsl. You began to make more frequent appearances on the team but only as a sub but still each time you stepped on the pitch the media was all over you the next star girl who was gonna be the big thing. All the titles and names should have put pressure on you to do better yet it never did infact it was motivation to carry on. Summer had arrived the end of the season meant big transfers arsenal had missed out on winning the title race yet you were the most popular conversation topic of where will you move next or if you would stay at arsenal. Now the conversation was relentless everysingle club had wanted a piece of you and for good money from what you had heard but it was ultimately your decision and a little bit of arsenals choice after they had turned down bids from Manchester city and Chelsea early in the transfer window.

Of course you wanted to stay at arsenal, you thrived there your idols were there you grew up admiring leah williamson, beth mead and vivianne miedema, you had a few offers on the table that your agent had given to you yet none of them beat arsenal or had come close to the same pay check but that wasn't the reason you were staying it was more of the bragging rights to say you were friends them even though you were like the adopted child of arsenal many complained that your presence was aging them but it was only for jokes they loved you really. Then the call came at 11.40pm just as you were about to crawl in bed after a long day of pre season grind as unlike the other girls you couldn't go on holiday and get drunk on a beach you were 16 you couldn't even legally drink but that didnt stop you. You were exhausted as sleep weighed on your eyelids then the phone rang.

"Barcelona are interested in you" your agent said to you. "WHAT, YOU'RE JOKING" you shouted almost waking up everyone in your house. "Yes but if you want to go you need to have an answer by tomorrow, the contract is a multi year so it will be constantly updated each year..." your agent began to ramble on about the terms of the contract "yes" you splutter out interrupting his long speech "yes what?" He asked back almost fed up of your frantic behaviour "yes, i want to go its the only club i would leave arsenal for and im not gonna get another chance like this" you said firmly there was no hesitation behind your words "right then we will final up the deal with arsenal and Barcelona and we will figure out an appropriate wage" he said almost scoffing at that last comment and going back to his professional terms (ramble) which meant nothing to you.

Once he hung up the phone you lay in bed in the darkness when reality hit you "omg im going to play at Barcelona" you said to yourself "OMG IM GOING TO PLAY AT BARCELONA" you repeated to yourself this time shouting almost squealing in fact. You couldn't believe it was happening, and you drifted off waiting for the deal to finalise it. It was going to be a long process of negotiation, but it was on you were willing to wait out for .Soon the red and white iconic kit would change to a blue and purple equally as iconic kit and you had a chance to write a legacy one which you knew would catch the medias attention, maybe even break it.

[prettyoatmeal]

Thinking about Simon part 10 million and 2, this time with a reader that loves Valentine's Day.

Simon who originally disliked Valentine’s Day coming to love it and him going above and beyond to make that day special for you.

All Simon had associated the colour red was with blood, gore, horrors no sweet thing like you should ever witness. Valentine’s Day was a constant reminder of his toxic career life.. or at least it was until you came into his life.

He knew February 14th was about love and expressing one’s feelings for their significant other. With all the hearts, stores decorated with red and pinks, all the cheap tasting chocolates in heart shaped boxes and the pink teddies, it really wasn’t something he delved in. He didn’t seek out a Valentine, and no one asked him either.

But you loved it. You loved pinks and reds and all the colours around that spectrum. You loved the hearts and all the shiny jewellery. It was the day which quite literally everything catered to your exact taste.

He noticed this, of course he did. You were the most important being in his life despite being so different than him. You were dealing with him on not just acquaintance level, but managing to drill into his cold heart and make him swoon. He knew he had to make that day special for you.

So getting is wallet out, he took note of everything which had caught your eye even the slightest.

Those ‘I’m his, she’s mine’ hoodies you two laughed at because they were just the tackiest things you’ve ever seen? Already in the bag and you’ll bet he’s wearing it with you.

That lingerie set you were looking at a little too long? It’s already beautifully wrapped up and waiting to be given to you. Of course he’ll most likely be ripping it off you the moment you show him, but he can always get a new one.

That pink sapphire ring that was too expensive even for you to look at? You don’t need to because you’ll bet he wouldn’t think twice.

And of course the usual, a candy pink teddy, a heart shaped box of chocolates and a bouquet of pink tulips.

Waking up on the morning of Valentine’s Day, you’re immediately bombarded with the most beautiful flowers, the prettiest new lingerie set, yummiest chocolates, and the hoodies you two happily wear on your days off.

Exchanging gifts, you share the chocolates in bed while watching a nice movie, lazing around for the morning and cuddling up with the small bear between you two.

Oh, and the ring?

Don’t worry about it. He’s saving it for when the timing is just right.

[celestialprincesse]

HIIIIIII!!

I was thinking reader whos always very emotional (basically a crybaby) and simon who hasnt cried since a LONG ASS time

Cuz im a very emotional person and im like crying at every chance i get and then i have a friend who hasnt cried since 5th grade pls hes an unfeeling fuck who says i could fill a tank with those tears he somehow reminds me of simon i cried like an hour ago and he just told me to stfu😭;-;

Hey baby!💕 Controversial opinion, but I lowkey think that Simon is a sucker for a good cry, he just doesn't often engage with things that make him overly emotional. I think he's definitely a little awkward about it, especially having spent much of his life in an environment where being overly emotional isn't always looked upon fondly, but he's not ashamed of it. If anything, I think he's almost proud? Like he's secure enough in himself to get a little weepy when he watches movies with dogs dying in them or when his partner tells him that they're pregnant. He's not like a big cryer by any means, no wailing sobs and snotty noses for him. He's definitely just the type to get teary, but he's not ashamed! Nuh uh!

When they hand him a pregnancy test, he freaks the fuck out at first, and his partner is already welling up, pregnancy hormones and just general lack of a dam to stop the waterworks leaving them pretty much perpetually emotional, be the tears from stress or joy or anger. They're pretty much always crying. Simon makes sure to buy a box of tissues every time he runs to the grocery store. He doesn't even realise he's crying until he sees the look of panic on their already flushed face, and he can't help but let out a little choked sob as they come and wrap him up in their arms, his hand resting inadvertently on the nonexistent swell of their tummy, where his child is growing. His baby. Their baby.

Obviously his partner is torn halfway between shitting themself and being utterly elated. They know that parenthood is a touchy subject for him given his past, and his current career, and they understand that having a baby is a terrifying thought for him. Simon has done happy tears, tears of grief and tears of anger. Tears of happiness though? Feeling so beyond content that he cries? That's a new milestone.

[footylover]

It’s a beautiful thing to meet someone who makes you forget your troubles.

(Leah Williamson x Reader)

As Leah Williamson was making her debut on the new EA Sports FC 24 cover, you were preparing to interview her with some fan questions in hand.

Before taking your seat you take advantage to approach Leah off camera to say hi. Leah smiles back at you.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you. Don’t worry, these questions are supposed to be fun” You informed her to calm her nerves.

“Good to know, I’m honestly not having the best day” She responds.

Before you could ask any further, the director was asking for both of you to take your seat. "Alright, let's get started," you said with a gentle smile, noticing the hint of sadness in Leah's eyes. It was not a good day for her, she'd said, but you intended to make the interview as light and enjoyable as possible.

The questions started simple, revolving around her favorite FIFA games, memories growing up, and some of the memorable moments in her career. She perked up talking about her love for the game and her experiences. Still, you could tell something was bothering her.

Halfway through the interview, you decided to throw in a lighter question to change the mood. "Pineapple on pizza - yes or no?"

Leah laughed, her eyes lighting up for the first time that day. "Absolutely no!" she replied, sparking a playful debate between the two of you. For a few moments, her worries seemed to have been forgotten. You found her laugh infectious, and it was a relief to see her relax.

But as the interview was drawing to a close, you saw her mood dip once again. You'd had a good time with her, and it was clear that she was carrying something heavy. As a fellow human being, you couldn't help but feel for her.

"Leah, if you don't mind me asking," you began carefully, "is there something bothering you? You mentioned you weren't having the best day..."

She hesitated, glancing off-camera as if debating whether to answer. After a long pause, she sighed, "It's not public yet. But I got my results for my injury I got last game. I’m not making it to the World Cup."

Your heart clenched at her words, understanding the pain she was going through. "I'm really sorry to hear that, Leah. It's tough, and it's okay to not be okay. Just remember, it's the tough times that make the good ones so much sweeter. You will come back stronger than ever."

Leah nodded, her gaze softening as she met your eyes. "Thank you, Y/N. I needed to hear that today."

After the cameras stopped rolling, you chatted with Leah a bit more, offering words of comfort and strength. You felt a connection that went beyond just interviewer and interviewee. But you thought you would never find out as you just said your good byes and parted ways.

After the interview, you didn't expect to see Leah again, let alone form a deeper connection with her. However, fate seemed to have other plans. During one of Arsenal's matches, you were in the VIP box, courtesy of your job, taking in the game, when you spotted Leah in the neighboring box. She was currently injured, forced to watch her team from the sidelines.

Leah must have noticed you at the same moment because her eyes met yours and held. For a moment, it felt like time stood still, the noise of the crowd fading into nothing. Then, she disappeared from view.

A few minutes later, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you were surprised to find Leah standing behind you, a timid smile on her face. "Mind if I join you?" she asked.

For the rest of the game, you both talked, laughed, and cheered for Arsenal together. It felt like a date - the intimacy, the connection, the sparks. However, neither of you acknowledged it.

As you were saying goodbyes again and leaving the box, Leah said, "Wait!! I noticed you wearing a Beth Mead jersey. Are you a fan?"

You nodded enthusiastically, "I'm a huge fan."

With a sly grin, Leah invited you to meet Beth. During the encounter, Leah was unusually quiet, and you noticed a flicker of something in her eyes. It looked a lot like jealousy, but you shrugged it off. You were star-struck, but Beth's laid-back demeanor and welcoming smile soon put you at ease.

"So, Y/N," Beth began, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall, "How do you know our Leah here?"

You glanced at Leah, who was looking slightly uncomfortable but made no move to intervene. "We met during an interview."

Beth's eyebrows raised, and a playful smirk appeared on her face. "Oh, just an interview, huh? And now you're hanging out in the VIP box, meeting her teammates. Sounds like you're pretty close."

You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Guess I’m pretty lucky. Leah’s been really kind."

For a moment, you thought you saw Leah blush, but she quickly looked away.

As the conversation moved to the match and general football banter, Leah excused herself to speak to a coach, leaving you alone with Beth.

Once she was out of earshot, Beth turned to you, her expression more serious. "She's a good person, Leah. Just been through a lot lately. I hope she's found a good friend in you, Y/N."

You nodded, assuring Beth that Leah had indeed found a friend in you. However, her words resonated with you, hinting at something more beneath the surface.

When Leah returned, Beth excused herself to have a word with her. You couldn't hear what they were talking about, but you saw Leah's eyes widen, her cheeks flushing, and Beth teasingly poking her in the ribs. Leah swatted Beth's hand away, looking around to make sure you hadn't seen.

You turned away quickly, not wanting them to know you'd noticed. But you couldn't help the small grin that spread across your face. The day had been full of surprises, and the evening promised to bring even more.

With a day like this, it felt like anything was possible. Could there be more than friendship developing between you and Leah? Only time would tell. But for now, you were content with the uncertainty, the anticipation, and the thrill of the unknown.

The bustling noise of the after-match crowd faded as Leah walked you to your car in silence. Your laughter and playful teasing from earlier had been replaced by a charged silence. The air between you two was thick with unspoken words, questions, and emotions.

Leah, always the more courageous one, broke the silence. "Did you mean what you said earlier in the VIP box, about wanting to know the 'Leah off the field'?" Her voice was soft, almost vulnerable, her eyes fixed on the ground.

You paused, glancing at her. "Every word, Leah," you responded sincerely. "You fascinate me, not as Leah the footballer, but Leah the person. You're incredibly strong and kind."

Leah looked up, her gaze meeting yours. For a moment, everything else ceased to exist. It was just the two of you under the dim glow of the streetlights.

A soft sigh escaped Leah's lips as she leaned against the car, her eyes never leaving yours. "I'm not used to this, Y/N," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I guess people usually want the footballer, the celebrity, the...public figure."

You moved closer, your voice steady. "But that's not what I want, Leah. I want to know you, the woman behind all the fame and the accolades, the woman who still gets nervous before interviews."

Something shifted in Leah's expression then, a sense of understanding, perhaps, or relief. She didn't say anything for a moment, her gaze intensifying.

"And you, Y/N," she finally murmured, "What about you? What do you hide behind that professional facade?"

You laughed softly, taken aback by her directness. "That, Leah, is a story for another day."

She smiled, her eyes softening. "I'd like to hear it someday."

After exchanging numbers this time, you drove away. You could still feel Leah's gaze on you, her unspoken words hanging in the air like a promise. There was an undeniable pull between the two of you, something more profound than a fleeting attraction. But what it meant and where it could lead? That was a question for another day.

Authors note: Thank you for reading this far! Part 2?

[gayf1hoe]

Turn 7 Nightamres

Scenario: Y/N has a serious crash that sends immediate flashback of Jules to Charles.

My favourite track has always been Suzuka but I think that has something to do with the fact that I love Japan itself and as I spent my childhood racing career being endorsed by Honda I spent a lot of time in Japan and surrounded by Japanese culture so I guess I've just become accustomed to it.

There is only light rain falling on track so my car is fitted with slick tyres which will either be a massive mistake or a massive success depending on how certain parts of the track are.

“Are you ready?” Charles says snapping me out of my pre race thoughts.

Despite racing for Ferrari he doesn't seem to mind standing under my bright orange McLaren umbrella that the team have given me for no reason.

“As ready as I could be I guess and you?”

“Ready as always”

Everyone thought me and Charles dating would never last long but 3 years on we are still going strong despite everything we have been through. My engineer comes over and tells me I have to get in my car so I say goodbye to Charles and wish him luck.

I'm starting P11 today as I was the fastest in quarrying yesterday but had a 10 place grid penalty for replacing something on my car. I have the home hero Yuki Tsunoda next to me on P10 and we give each other a little wave.

Charles is on pole today so he's quite a way in front of me, it's probably the furthest we have been from each other both in the race and in person in 3 years. We have basically been joined at the hip since we first met and started dating.

The usual feeling of adrenaline kicks in the second the 5 lights go out and it eradicates any sense of nerves I was feeling less than 2 seconds ago.

The first laps are going well and I have made up 2 places, and I now have Kevin behind me and he's getting really close and he accidentally or purposefully hits my rear and the next thing I hear my engineer say is:

“Puncture. Box, Box.”

Thankfully it happens right next to the pit entry so I dive into the pits and get a fresh set of tyres and go back out on track. I emerge back in P16 in front of Pierre and get to work again. But the rain is increasing more and more by the second.

I push the car well beyond its limits to make up some places and I manage to get up to P12 by lap 23 but the rain is increasing, my trick has been not putting my foot on the brake at all really until the last millisecond.

I approach turn 7 at 300kph when the typical approach to turn 7 is 280 Kph and I don't realise how much the racing line has become saturated with water and the next thing I know as I'm trying to decelerate I'm seeing the track from the air and that's where everything turns into darkness.

Charles POV:

“Red Flag. Red Flag. Delta positive.”

These words aren't much of a surprise as the track has been getting wet so I assume someone somewhere is stuck in the gravel trap.

“What's happened?” I ask.

“Y/N has had quite a big shunt in turn 7”

“What! Is he OK?”

“We are unsure his car his upside down and we haven't heard anything on the radio”

The second I hear that It floods my brain with memories of Jules. He crashed on the same track at the same corner in the same conditions.

“Charles please come into the pit lane and leave a 5 metre gap to the car in front”

“I'm not coming into the pit lane”

“Charles if you don't you will be fined and may be banned from participating in the restart”

“I don't care about that”

I arrive at turn 7 and I freeze. I see a bright orange McLaren upside down with parts of it scattered around. I turn off my car and sprint over.

I arrive just as the stewards and medical team are turning the car back on it's right side. I try to help but one of the stewards pushes me away. When the car is back on its right side I run over to the cockpit and lean in to try and get Y/N to respond, but his eyes are shut and his visor is shattered. I can see a small slither of crimson red blood falling by his eye.

The medic asks me to move out of the way and they begin to lift him from the car and place him on a stretcher. I jump in the back of the ambulance and immediately grab a hold of Y/N's hand and it's surprisingly warm despite the cold and wet conditions he had been racing in. They eventually pull off his helmet, as he has become a little more coherent. When the helmet comes off we can see he has a slight cut above his eyebrow where his visor snapped and scratched him but other than that he looks fine.

As we arrive at the medical centre he has started talking and is saying that he's fine and keeps on trying to move but it only results in him whining in agony.

“I'm fine you are all fussing over nothing” he says as the doctor attempts to take his blood pressure.

“Y/N we are going to take you to hospital for some scans to check for any internal injuries”

One of the doctors pulls me aside and tells me that he should be fine but as a precaution Y/N is going to have some scans. Meanwhile I tell the FIA I'm not interested in being at the restart and instead I'm going with Y/N. Ferrari didn't try and stop me because they knew nothing would stop me.

I feel relieved that he's fine and being his usual self, but I know he's still not out of the woods just yet.

I think it's safe to say me and turn 7 don't have the best history.

[denimbex1986]

'When Cillian Murphy took to the podium during Sunday night’s Golden Globes, his nose smudged in his wife’s lipstick, it was as if a door had opened on this Hollywood Neverland and an ambassador for the real world had stepped through.

Accepting the Best Actor in a Drama award for Oppenheimer, Murphy wasn’t so much un-starry as stonkingly everyday. Here was a normal person who had somehow beamed into peak Tinseltown and, if pleased, was also clearly a bit perplexed by it all.

The Oppenheimer win has made Murphy a frontrunner for the Oscars. In all likelihood, he will be up against a creepy Barry Keoghan in Saltburn, an overblown Bradley Cooper in Maestro, and a fervent Leonard DiCaprio in Killers of the Flower Moon. With the arguable exception of the grandstanding Cooper, all would be worthy winners. And yet, underdogs everywhere will be cheering for Murphy. He’s spent the past 20 years negotiating Hollywood on his own terms and has rejected Tinseltown’s showiness in favour of staying grounded and playing the long game.

Murphy always wanted to be an actor rather than a star. Such a choice could easily have condemned him to a lifetime of supporting roles. Or a hiatus in TV, to which he seemed exiled when he settled in for a long run as Tommy Shelby in Birmingham noir Peaky Blinders.

But his decision to turn away from flashy parts has proved inspired. He is that rarest of things: an experienced A-list actor who comes to the Oscars without baggage. Unlike DiCaprio, he hasn’t had to overcome a past life as a teen pin-up. Nor does he have to justify a lucrative stint in comic book films, as Cooper has with his time as Rocket Racoon in Guardians of the Galaxy.

Above all, Murphy goes into Oscar season as an antidote to the “look at me!” culture of the social media era. In an age when fame is regarded as the ultimate commodity – more important than awards or critical acclaim – Murphy would rather let his work speak for itself. He lives humbly in suburban Dublin with his wife and two children – and his great passion outside of acting is music, as demonstrated by his semi-regular presenting slot on BBC 6 Music.

That’s lifetimes removed from Hollywood, with its self-mythologising and turbo-charged fakeness. It is also of a piece with his career since he broke through playing a survivor of the zombie apocalypse in Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later. Ever since, he has chosen his jobs thoughtfully. In so doing, he has assembled a body of work of which he can be proud.

He hasn’t been above popcorn. He was a memorable villain in Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins, where he played the Scarecrow as a trippy nightmare. But even when shooting for the box office, Murphy has been studiedly un-starry. Careful to keep his ego in check, he’s often happy in an ensemble – hugging the background in A Quiet Place II and settling for an extended cameo in Nolan’s Dunkirk, where he was content to let Harry Styles and Tom Hardy hog the spotlight.

Hog it they did – yet it was Murphy who proved to be in it for the long road. Because he could go into Oppenheimer without a Hollywood aura, he disappeared into the role. If hardly obscure, he nonetheless assimilated fully into the part. Throughout that film, you were aware of its stars. Florence Pugh and Emily Blunt doing their best with under-written female characters. Robert Downey Jr trying to pretend he hadn’t spent a decade as Iron Man.

Murphy, by contrast, split the acting atom. He vanished into Oppenheimer with a performance that exuded humility and sincerity. Bookies have now installed him as a favourite for the Best Actor Oscar. If he wins, it would be a victory for knowing who you are and what you stand for and believing good work has value beyond short-term acclaim. Above all, his success shows that it is possible to stay grounded while scaling Hollywood’s giddiest heights.'

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Bee's And The Bats!

☆♡Yan Batfam x Bee! Reader♡☆

"Too bad I can't make a career out of getting fired, right? I'd be like, a CEO or a manager. Which one's more impressive? ...President?"

You and Damien are 18+. That goes for anything I write regarding him.

I will be following comics, the web series and possibly a bit of the Netflix version. Shout out to @hana-no-seiiki for making ☆Superb!☆ headcanons themselves! Check them out!

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Damien Wayne:

The Wayne heir had decided to rent out a apartment, wanting to have a bit of independence, maybe even a little space from the world. In his own solitude when his pets couldn't provide affectations at the time. Or if he couldn't travel back to the manor soon enough due to injury.

Today was just.. Not a good day for Damien.

He was tired, restless, maybe even angry.

He decided not to head back to the manor after patrol, wanting to clear his head and not get into a argument with anyone regarding his behavior.

Dressed in his civilian attire, he walks up the apartment complex steps to his room floor. Stepping onto the carpet covered hall, he pulls out his key.

Listening in on his neighbor, who was conversing with someone, Damien unlocked his door.

"Are you you gonna be-AHOF!!"

"OH MY GOD!"

Damien quickly turns around, expecting some type of altercation!

Yet is suprised to find a man around his age wallowing on the ground in pain, in front of your door. He could even see the man's tears staining the floor.

Your voice shouts beyond the door.

"Oh my god! Oh, oh my god. Ah, wait, ah...ooh, ah, I have, uh, stuff for your stuff!"

Your footsteps heavy and clear again once near the door.

"I got you some ice for your crotch! I'm shoving the crotch ice under the door!"

The man leaves, quickly scurrying off with ice between his.. Private area.

Leaving behind a small pink box wrapped in a plastic bag.

Damien places his keys back in his pocket, stepping over to your side of the hallway. Knocking on the door so the food wouldn't go to waste.

The two of you stare at one another curiously.

When Damien first met you, he thought you were weird. Close to, "possibly another villian in the making" weird.

You kept to yourself, along with a strange little cat-dog creature of yours.

But, he found you charming in a way, you were impulsive, selfish, a glutton. Yet you were realistic, someone he could and couldn't understand.

You were nice as well, rather kind. You saw him as friend the first day you met Damien. Offering to share some lasagna with him and your "puppy-cat".

He started to seek you out more, finding your presence a tad thrilling.

What made you tick, why were you so space-casy, what thoughts ran in your head when you saw good in others?

The blood-son wanted to know and he'll find out.

[Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I kinda made this for fun and I really like seeing Bee!Readers! So here is the first installment of this, (possibly) series!]

[qprstobin]

It's interesting to me that the fandom looks at the "Steve Harrington isn't an asshole after all" line and 1) lords it as the first time Steve's gotten a compliment from a friend on screen and 2) that it's about Steve's growth as a character. Like I'm a Steve girlie don't get me wrong, that man is my pride and joy, but that line/exchange was very much about Eddie.

There's a whole layer of Eddie's story that fandom seems to love to ignore, in that the whole season he is grappling with the fact that the way he viewed the world (based largely on stereotypes and his viewpoint being the correct amount of nonconforming) is wrong. That's what the Munson Doctrine is all about. That preps act a certain way, that band geeks act a certain way, and that jocks act a certain way.

And he is finding out that this is wrong! That these people he judged as shallow his whole high school career and beyond are not actually as shallow as they appear! First it was Chrissy, then it was Steve and Nancy and even Robin!

And this isn't an insult lobbed at Eddie that he's uniquely ignorant lol. This is something all the teens (minus Argyle rip) go through when they get introduced to the Upside Down. Jonathan literally calls Nancy shallow and fake while defending the creep shots. Robin of course has her own "Mr. Cool Mr. Funny" speech about Steve in s3 and then later calls Nancy a priss. Nancy's is probably the most obvious because, yaknow, Barb

Like a key theme to the teens' Upside Down introduction arcs is that not only is their physical world being flipped on its head, but also that the petty shit that seems important isn't actually that important when your life is being threatened. Being introduced to the Upside Down very much also removes them from the main stream of high school life, and so even when they return to school they are not focused on the same social BS that they are before.

It really is nothing about Steve or Steve "changing". They don't know each other lol, I doubt either of them have given each other much thought before the kids joined Hellfire. But Eddie believed the world worked a certain way, and very much judged people for what their interests were and whether he considered them to be "conforming" or not. (Which, wasn't just about being a jock lol, he calls out the band kids and science kids before he even gets to the jocks and the partiers.) The Upside Down experience makes him realize that he is fitting people into boxes in the same way that he was protesting against.

It's actually really fun character growth, and a fun parallel I think to the other characters but especially s1 Steve. I really like it a lot and wish that fandom included it more in fics. It's wild to me that this aspect of Eddie's journey has just been completely dropped.