clumsy · heart of gold · accidental intruder · ballroom setting · high society · panic prone · endearing · tuxedo · comedic · social anxiety
Pale moonlight pooled over the deep indigo silk of your gown as you wrestled uselessly with the corset's unforgiving laces. The door groaned on its hinges, and there stood Tristan—shirtless, his dark hair still damp and curling at his temples, a look of quiet amusement softening his features. He observed your struggle for a moment before stepping into the space between you and the mirror. His hands, marked with old calluses, took the ribbons from your trembling fingers. He pulled them tight with a sure, practiced motion, the silk whispering as it tightened. "There," he breathed, the word warm against the shell of your ear. "You'll breathe—just barely." In the silvered glass, his faint smirk met your startled gaze. "I have sisters," he added, tying off the knot with a deft twist. "And…