#glances over at my partner to find him brooding beside a tire in spirit

[z-ppy]

what no I don’t have a ty—

[soybeantree]

pairing: do kyungsoo x reader  genre/warning: spoopy fluff word count: 1.7k description: thanks to bridgerton we all are back into our regency era feels usually preserved for late night bbc reruns or jane austen binges. here’s a little kyungsoo in her majesty’s finest.  a/n: september installment of our ‘trying to write a kyungsoo story for every month that he is gone’ series.

Beware the darkest corners of the ballroom for within them lurks the Spinster’s Doom. The gossip mongers say he is the spirit of a spurned suitor come to have his revenge on whichever lonely woman wanders into his clutches. He invites them in with a sweet smile and the promise of affection and attention. They place their hand in his, he whirls them onto the dance floor, and they are never seen again. He feeds upon their souls, so that he may continue his vile existence.

The salacious tale resurfaces again and again in polite circles, but everyone is quick to say they find it folly and laugh it away. Yet in recent years, you have noticed that ballrooms have been remodeled. The grand square spaces have become round. When you have commented on this change in your polite circles, everyone agrees it only makes sense for a ball to occur in a round room; otherwise, they would be called a square. The comment is inevitably followed by more laughter.

You wish he would whisk you away from the never ending balls. You are entering your third season, and if your mother continues to ignore the obvious, next year you will have your fourth. Rather than anger or irritation, you feel pity for your mother. She has tried ever so hard to find you a match, but doom would have been the outcome no matter how large your dowry or how good your family connections. You ensured that when you were little.

Your mother calls you special. Most everyone else calls you either a freak, demon possessed, or, if they are being polite, odd. You are simply yourself. While you have been born with a skill unique to yourself, the same can be said of most everyone. Your skill, unfortunately, happens to unnerve most everyone. 

Standing at the back of a yet square ballroom, you inch closer to the darkest corner and further from the young cad who continues to use his height to stare down the dresses of each lady with whom he dances. The images loop within his mind which means they loop within yours. The greater the distance between you and him, the weaker the images become.  However, in such a small space it is impossible to be far enough from everyone to escape all their thoughts. Closing your eyes, you rub at your temple and the brewing headache. By nights end, it will be fierce enough to bring tears.

Contrary to the whispers, you hate spying on others thoughts. Your thoughts are enough for you and sometimes too much. You have no need for everyone else’s thoughts. Perhaps, if drama was more to your liking, the skill would be more entertaining, but you much prefer mystery.

Reaching the darkest corner, you breathe a sigh of relief as sweet emptiness fills your mind. “I was wondering if you would make an appearance tonight.” You whisper to the Spinster’s Doom.

“I have sworn a solemn oath.” He responds materializing beside you. 

While he rarely smiles, his face is more than capable of enticing a young woman to take his hand. With dark brooding eyes which rival any romance novel rake’s and lips so plush one would spend a fortune merely to know their touch, he could have any woman with a raise of his brow. Despite his features and his fearsome reputation, Kyungsoo would never whisk anyone away to feast on their soul. He is also no spirit bent on vengeance for lack of love. You are uncertain what he is but are quite certain he could have had the love of anyone he chose. 

You met Kyungsoo during your first season, at your first ball. You had begged your mother during the weeks preceding to allow you to stay at home. Your arguments about your oddity and your belief that no one would show interest in you fell on deaf ears. She had already allowed you to delay your debut for two years. You would go to the ball, and you would dazzle every man, and at the end of the season, you would have a husband. Your mother is overly hopeful. 

As the minutes ticked to midnight, you had yet to receive a request for a dance, but you had heard the thoughts of every young man who dared to enter your vicinity. They supported your beliefs rather than your mothers. Some had been downright malicious, but you had experienced that reaction before and paid little attention to it. A mistake which you have since remedied. Tired of the constant stream of foreign thoughts and with a headache brewing, you wandered from the ballroom to the solitude of the gardens. 

The thoughts preceded the men. They had been drinking. Drunk thoughts are jumbled and, depending on the level of intoxication, can be indecipherable. These thoughts were indecipherable. As the men drew closer, you had decided it best to return to the ballroom. 

Unfortunately, the way back which you chose led straight to them. Their indecipherable thoughts became vulgar words. You lowered your head and attempted to push past them, but they pushed you back. Their thoughts cleared into a single idea. Fear iced your veins, freezing you to the spot. They advanced, the image in their mind pressing down upon you. Then it was gone.

You blinked. The men were still there. They were still approaching. You should have still heard their thoughts, but the only thoughts in your head were your own. You blinked again, and he was there, standing between you and them. They blinked as well; their glazed eyes slow to focus. 

“It would be best for all if you left.” His deep voice reverberated through your chest, cracking the ice. The men laughed. Their bravado returned as their confusion dissipated. They were three to his one. They advanced, and Kyungsoo nodded, squaring his shoulders. 

The middle one came first. Kyungsoo grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm behind his back, and raised it until it snapped. The man howled, but Kyungsoo threw him aside as the next assailant raced forward. He ducked beneath the man’s swing and landed a punch to his gut. As the man doubled over, he whirled and struck out with his foot, hitting the man’s temple. He toppled. The third man eyed his fallen companions before racing away.

As quickly as he had appeared, Kyungsoo was gone. After your encounter, you began to hear the tales of the Spinster’s Doom. Your assailants swore they had been injured saving you from him. You rolled your eyes at the gossip and, at each ensuing ball, would search for him. He was easy to find. After all, you simply had to find the one spot where you only heard your thoughts.

“Are there many young ladies in danger tonight?” You ask. 

While your knowledge of Kyungsoo remains small despite the growing number of interactions, you are certain of a few things. He is not as others suggest. Rather he is a protector of the overlooked and abused, ready to defend at a moment’s notice.

“You always seem to find danger.”

You give a most unladylike snort and are grateful your mother is on the other side of the room. 

“Rather I think danger finds me.” You raise a brow and quirk your lips, but he maintains his silence without sparing you a glance. “Even so, if no one is presently in danger, I find myself without a partner for the coming dance.”

“Perhaps, because you have secluded yourself in a dark corner far from the room’s occupants.” He continues to stare ahead, but you catch the slight lift at the corner of his mouth.

“Perhaps, because there is no suitable partner amongst the room’s occupants.”

“If that is so, why complain about the lack of a partner?” He flicks his gaze to you but quickly returns it to the room.

You open your mouth and close it. “Why do I even bother?” You huff, crossing your arms and slumping against the wall. Even across the room, your mother catches your display. One glance has you straightening your back and folding your hands at your waist. Beside you Kyungsoo licks his lips, and you know he is only doing it to hide a smile. “May I at least stay here? The thoughts, tonight, are particularly aggressive.”

He gives you his full attention for a moment. Your mouth goes dry as you stare into the dark depths of his eyes. Your fingers twitch against one another as temptation urges them to reach out and cup his face. “Nothing will come if you stay with me.”

Lowering your head, you sigh. Your fingers go cold as you squeeze them. “I know.” You whisper. Clearing your throat, you raise your eyes and thrust your shoulders back. “But still, I would much prefer spending the evening around someone who bears no hostility towards me.”

“Someone will come along one day.” His voice is soft, his words more a wish than a promise.

“I fear you are wrong.” You swallow the growing lump in your throat and force your eyes to remain dry. “But I refuse to let such fear cower me. Besides, I think I have found an alternative to life as a reviled spinster.” You smile.

“And that would be?” He encourages the change in subject.

“I think I shall follow your example and become a protector. It would be a good use for my unique skill.”

He blinks at you before shaking his head with a sigh. “I feel as if my assignment is becoming more difficult.”

“Come now.” You chuckle, swaying in your skirts as your hands slip behind your back. “Have I asked for your assistance? No. I will ensure that I am fully capable of the roll before I assume it, and besides, are you even able to help outside of balls?”

He rolls his eyes, and you chuckle once more.

“However, if you are able to appear outside of balls, I would accept training with fisticuffs. I feel as if I will need it in this line of work.”

He sighs. “I should have asked you to dance.” The words are a whisper, but you hear them all the same.