#Like how the brothers will just see everything repeat itself but on a bigger

[unamazing-sheep21]

POV: You're a knight of Favonius who just made the worst decision of your life.

Tldr: Lumine bites the bullet and decides to confront her Abyss Prince brother Aether head on. Two people with more experience on this matter were too late to stop her.

[nimcoconut]

the thing is, jegulus makes perfect sense to me genuinely. And I understand the gripes that people have with it, so i'm going to try and outline my thought process. i could talk about how good of a ship this is for HOURS.

• Regulus and James would have constantly been in each other's orbit at Hogwarts. Think about it. They're both on the Hogwarts quidditch teams (regardless of if jenes was a seeker or chaser ik it's up for debate) we all know how serious James Potter took quidditch. they would've been marking each other in games, taking notes of tactics etcetc. Plus with Sirius being James' best friend he would've been even more acutely aware of Regulus, like come on. If nothing else, then because of the arguments the black brothers would get into at hogwarts. And the stories Sirius would tell him in their first few years at Hogwarts, because hello, before Sirius went to Hogwarts who was his closest ally? who did he survive an abusive home life with? REGULUS. so james knew of him, DEFINITELY was introduced to him on the hogwarts express during second year (before slyhtherin sorting).

• James being Sirius' best friend and ultimately in Regulus' eyes, the person who replaced him as Sirius' best friend. He would've resented him, because before him and Sirius fell apart, they were all each other had and SUDDENLY sirius has this other rock, this but that he admires so much. You're telling me he wouldn't be raging at being replaced? On high alert of awareness, not only for his brother that he was steadily losing but on his best friend who replaced him???? the tension?? hello?? And once they got to know each other and he has that "oh so this is what he saw in you. oh wow" Moment??

•James potter, sunshine reincarnate, who believed in others even when it came to his own detriment would 100% try to save regulus. Believe he could. A lot of people say this doesn't fit James' character because he "wouldn't lie to his friends" But I think you guys are putting him in a box. I think he's just as capable of keeping a secret as anyone else. Especially when he thinks it's for a bigger purpose.

•I love the idea of a love greater than Regulus' loyalties to his families being what inspired him to take the horcrux. Like The symmetry of both Black brothers being guided by James into the light?? That his love saves them both in different ways?? How is it not the perfect ship.

Enemies to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, regulus falling first but james falling harder, the COMPLICATED nature of it. how much of this is vindictiveness towards sirius and trying to take something away from him, of reclaiming and how much is just pure admiration for someone so good and selfless? How much is this about James' saviour complex? You anti jegulus people are not seeing the bigger picture.

ALSO HOW IS IT ANY DIFFERENT TO DRARRY??? Its the PERFECT foil to drarry. Because this truly is a world where history repeats itself. Pressured into the dark arts by his family's expectations but couldn't stomach pushing through when it actually came down to it? And his beautiful sunshine boyfriend who embodies the GOOD in the world despite everything. Give me 10 more of it right now.

[riddles-n-games]

Hey guys! Here is another canon theory; Jameson and the fear of rejection. Now, we’re gonna ignore The Brothers Hawthorne for a bit but we’ll get to that soon. Right now, let me jog your memory back to TIG and THL. In the first book, we are introduced to the sensitive topic of the missing fathers, all of whom are of  mysterious natures and at that time, unknown to the brothers. Jamie clearly is touchy with this subject and refers to drinking as his typical go-to mind numbing but we are also introduced to his character’s avoidance tactics; deflect, pretend it doesn’t matter or hurt, use dark humor, drink, etc. Anything just to deny there are feelings at risk and this goes for several topics, hinting at the type of crises he’s going through. 

However, it’s when we get to The Hawthorne Legacy that things get really interesting. When we find out that Grayson and Jameson went to Phoenix to meet with Sheffield, you can just feel how affected he sounded when he asks him, “You think we’re here for money?” I can literally hear the shock in his voice as I reread that scene. And then take the scene after that encounter, when Avery meets up with him for the first time at True North. How he recounts with anger that the man rejected his son so easily, disregarding him with no feeling, you see that Jameson’s reaction to the whole thing clues us into something. Now, maybe the thing we think of as the first conclusion through Avery’s perspective is the fact that there is vulnerability and he’s letting it hurt. However, I think it also points to something bigger, like a fear, the fear of rejection.

Whatever Jameson has been feeling and perceiving about his own father up to that moment, just so much as imagining that first meeting with him, this interaction that he witnessed between his brother and his father has sealed the deal for him. It’s not going to be good and maybe it’s best not knowing him. And to be fair, he had every right to think that because his father has also kept away. This is also the strongest piece of evidence so far but unfortunately we don’t see more of it until a lot later. 

The Final Gambit doesn’t really infer anything; yes, we know that Jameson’s father was the only one left out of the main series mystery and set up the likelihood of his appearance in The Brothers Hawthorne but there isn’t anything that really goes back to the topic of Jameson and his absentee dad in the book is what I’m saying. Off page we can likely guess that with Jameson learning Xander’s father, Isaiah, was accepting of his brother then we can believe that he was happy for Xan but also maybe jealous and yet having a little bit of hope. And we know that Jameson would likely be terrified of that hope because it doesn’t guarantee anything.

Now we finally turn to The Brothers Hawthorne. After a full series of only subtle hints and brief scenes to explore this subject, we get to see from Jameson’s POV, firsthand, the rough sentiment he has for his father. The spiraling conversation that is the first meeting between Ian Johnstone-Jameson and Jamie is a downright shame to see as everything that we saw play out with Gray’s father repeats  itself. In true fashion, Jameson’s pain is constantly pushed to the side by his mantra, “Don’t let it hurt. Turn it into a game.” but we know that this is basically what he was fearing; rejection. If anything, he knew this was coming but he wanted to do it first so he could walk away feeling nothing even though that too would have been a lie. 

But Nash was right in telling him that he couldn’t walk away from his father the way he did, unaffected. And I’m sure that in many cases Jameson wished that things wouldn’t affect him but no matter the amount of times he “made it a game”, he felt things strongly buried beneath all that. He just doesn’t have that in him and that’s fine, we’re all human after all. But what wasn’t fine was his father being so horrendously apathetic to him especially in some instances where he refers to Jameson as his son. He knows how much weight that title carries, the acknowledgment that maybe Jameson tells himself he doesn’t need but still craves despite that. Ian knew exactly how to play him to get him to do as he wished and of course, Jameson was left in the dust but he didn’t give in to the hopelessness he felt. But he wasn’t quite abandoned either.

Probably the most heartbreaking part is that when Jameson’s uncle starts scolding him and blatantly tells him he cares for him, this boy is trying to reject this offer of safety and the first sense of paternal love being gestured to him without any impartiality. He has internalized this need to deflect because how many times was the reward too good to be true? Too many. But with Branford pushing forward we see this love being extended forward to him may just be the first step of many on a new journey which could allow Jameson to finally let go of the fear and to heal.

[igotanidea]

The fear: Jason Todd x fem!reader part 2

part 1

"I don't understand. Why isn't it working on him?” regardless of Jason’s protest, the second he got Jimmy to safety Dick and Tim took him to the batcave to run some test and assess the damage. Surprisingly, seemingly the toxin did nothing.

“I don’t know” Tim muttered, torn between confusion and curiosity “but it’s disturbing. I believe Crane has been altering the formula and the effects are yet to come.”

“Maybe I’ve just become immune to Scarecrow’s tricks.” Jason was sitting on the nearby chair, arms crossed over his chest, right leg bend and rested on the left, utter annoyance on his face “Will you two just let me the fuck out of here?!” he hissed

“NO!” Dick and Tim said in unison, however, the motives of the answer were slightly different for each of them. While both of them were worried about Jason’s state of mind, Dick didn’t want him to be alone. The oldest Wayne knew exactly what memories could come back due to the fear gas and felt the urge to help Jay through it. On the other side, Tim didn’t want him to suffer if there was something he could do about it. He just needed more time to figure it all out.

“I hate you both. Truly, madly, deeply.” Jason huffed

“Oh, come on, Jaybird, we all know if you wanted to get out you would have already done that. And yet, you’re still here. No one’s keeping you captive.”

“Shut up, Grayson.”

“Nah, I don’t think I will.” Dick smiled

“Don’t you have anything better do to? Anyone else to save?”

“You’re my priority at the moment.” Suddenly the air in the cave got a bit more serious and tense.

“How long do you think this may take?” Jay asked quietly “I got job to do.”

“We’ll cover for you if…..”

“NO! Hell no, I told you to stay away from Crime Alley.”

“If you don’t want to be alone you could have just said so.”

“Shut up, Grayson!”

“Why is it always me who has to witness this?” Tim rolled his eyes, begging whatever bigger entity there was for mercy “Can you two just calm down?”

“NO!” apparently, the sides turned and now it was Dick and Jason yelling in unison at Tim

“I wasn’t really expecting any other answer.”

“I….” Jason exhaled deeply “how long?”

“If my analysis is right ….”

“….. and it’s always right…” Todd mocked

“.. it may take up to 10 hours.”

“Great. That is just freaking great. Anyone up for the board game while we wait?”

***

Now

Tim was right. After 10 hours it all started coming back. Slowly.

At first, it was only the knot in his stomach, origins unknown. Then, his head started spinning and his vision became blurry. Soon, Jay felt surrounded and suffocated by the green fog.

And then it was only worse. Dick and Tim were forced to watch their brother crouch in the corner of the room, his eyes wide in terror, fixed on one point in the space yet blind to everything that was happening as his brain was working against him.

The memories from Ethiopia. The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor. The vicious laugh of a maniac who was attacking a kid. The feeling on crowbar on every part of his body. The smell and metallic taste of blood. He was going to find him again. Joker was going to torture him and kill him again. The story was going to repeat itself. There was literally nowhere to hide. Poor Jason. He hid his face in hands, sobbing quietly, silent begging to just leave him alone.

“I… I don’t want to go back…..”

“Um, should we do something  or…..?”

“What do you suggest we do, Tim? How do we help him without letting him know that we see him in this state? It’s still Jason. Any sign of vulnerability he’s shown may be the cause of another fight. And he’s terrified. I don’t know  about you, but I’d rather avoid it.”

“We can’t just leave him like this.”

“Of course not. But we also cannot help him. There is however one person that can.”

“You surely don’t mean …..”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“She won’t like it.” Tim warned

“But she will come. She always answer when needed.” Dick took a few steps forward and squatted next to Jayson. “Jaylad? Hey, I need you to look at me. You’re gonna be fine, all right? I’m calling Y/N”

“What?” for a second Jayson’s sight became a bit more aware “Don’t you dare! I don’t need her here!“

“We both know that is not true.”

“I don’t want her here!”

“Jason….”

“Don’t you dare calling her! I can handle myself. There’s no need to. I don’t want her hurt and he’s coming to get me. I need to keep her safe. I have to keep her safe……” his whole body shook, since it couldn’t process the possibility of the girl getting captured by the Joker and tormented the same way he had been.

“He’s too far gone now.” Tim pointed out “I think we really have to call her for the rescue.”

“Told ya.” Dick was  already dialing the number of his friend “Y/N?”

“Dick? Hey there, boy wonder. It’s been a while.”

“Really? It seems like you never left. We still got your framed picture on the display.”

“Oh, please, after a month? I never thought you to be sentimental, Grayson.”

“Only for you, Y/N….”

“Oh for crying out loud!” Tim hissed and took the phone from his brother “Y/N.”

“Tim? If you’re there than can only mean you have an emergency.”

“I need you to come. We need you to come. Please?”

“Of course. You know you can count on me. Is it Damian or…. Jay?”

“It’s Jason. If you don’t want to….”

“No.” she cut him off instantly, her voice a bit more concerned “What happened in the past stays in the past. I promised you something when I left and I intend to keep that promise. I’m on my way now. See you soon, bats.” The click on the other side indicated that she disconnected.

“Do you think this will work? I mean, given all the history…..”

“The plan’s in motion now. We better hope it works.”

to be continued

part 3

@shadow-pancake9

@lwtmonster91

@your-local-cryptid87

@princessbl0ss0m

[angeldelillith]

I know I've been busy for a few days, but I'll catch up, which means two to three stories will be uploaded per day. Wish me luck.

Day 4: "No, we're not doing that"

Fandom: Pinecest

The warnings and alibis had already been said. Enough had been said. False promises and broken words would only create a much bigger problem than the one they had started with.

The words from years ago had never stopped echoing, "Don't you understand the gravity of the situation?!" "I'm sorry, you're on your own." "You have to stop." "You have to put an end to it, whether you like it or not."

No warning seemed to change their minds. Their decisions had been made; they weren't going to walk away from everything they wanted, and the consequences were inevitable. But how prepared were they?

ENOUGH

Stan had both twins in the room. He paced back and forth, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was nervous but also disappointed by his nephews' trust and lack of commitment.

Such drastic situations require even more drastic measures, but that wasn't up to him. He had already said it, Stan would step aside. They were on their own.

However, he wasn't going to let it continue happening; he wasn't a monster either. He didn't trust either of them, but he also wouldn't let reality catch up with them. But there was only one thing left to do.

He explained to the twins, told them they should stay upstairs. They should just stay there and wait.

Dipper walked behind his sister. He didn't remember ever feeling such a darkest night. It hadn't even gotten dark yet, but the sun was slowly beginning to set. At that moment, he understood that it would be the darkest night of all.

No defense or excuse would be valid.

They had both been caught in small slip-ups. Their parents knew, they had known from the very beginning. "Cut it out," their father would say angrily as a threat.

They had already had a confrontation separately, followed by a long, painful talk, but neither knew about the other and both were too afraid to ask.

But now...

Stan had discovered them a year ago. They wanted to be honest with the only adult they trusted the most, but it had been a mistake.

They talked about a relationship since adolescence, and the more time passed, the more secure they felt about those feelings. Stan shook his head, repeating the sermon they had already heard a thousand times. "You have to stop, distance yourselves. It will be for your own good."

No.

Now the scene was repeating itself, only without a sermon, without help or even warnings. Just a timer they had to prepare for.

They were both lying on their sides on Mabel's bed, surrounded by all her stuffed animals. The lights of the sunset already covered all their walls. Mabel stretched out her arm, pointing at the ceiling to cover herself with the last rays of the sun, until her brother's hand appeared at her side copying her gesture and finally intertwining with hers.

“Why do you think Stan doesn't want us to hear the call?- Mabel thought, remembering the image of her uncle next to his phone, waiting for them to disappear from his sight. Do you think he wants to save us?”

“No, I don't think so. Didn't you see him? He was disappointed.”

“What did we do to him?”

“Ask them…”

They both curled up on their sides, looking at each other. The sun had disappeared, and the dim moonlight barely made its presence felt.

“What do you think is going to happen?”

Mabel tried to start a new conversation, so much silence was clashing with her thoughts, and neither of them were good at it. But, however, their hands were still together. I'm sure they're very angry, they'll be here any minute.

“Are you waiting for them? Tell me, what else can we do?”

“What else could we do?! Let's run away…”

“What?!”

At that moment she got up, letting go of his grip, looking at him as if it were a game.

“Do you have a better idea? How has it gone for us?”

“Tell me... Mabs... I only see negative results. That we've escaped once doesn't guarantee anything, quite the opposite. How are we going to face them? We'll talk to them again about love and consent, begging them to see what we see. Stan didn't…”

“It's very difficult, bro…”

“No... I don't want to face them or accept those unfair consequences, but I couldn't leave you alone either. Let's run away... We can figure out the rest along the way, I know we'll figure it out. We can be happy…”

“Dipper....”

“What? This is your idea, or would you rather stay? Do you think you can handle it? Tell me then, what's going to happen next?”

After 3 a.m., they had both packed their backpacks and were silently descending the stairs. The cabin was dark, and they slowly opened the front door. They ran through the trees, knowing Stan would notice their absence in a few hours, giving them more than enough time to find a road and try to get as far away as possible.

But the more they ran, the deeper they were in the forest, and the adrenaline and fear could play against them. Both almost out of breath, they stopped and sat on the ground. Dipper took a flashlight from his backpack that barely illuminated them. Their phones had been left behind, they weren't going to be so stupid as to be tracked, but it was noticeable even though they had a long way to go.

Suddenly, Dipper heard Mabel whimpering, her head fixed on the ground as she wiped her eyes.

“I want to go back” - she snorted.

“No, we're not going back. You're crazy.”

“Let's go back Dipper…”

“No! Forget it. You're just scared, listen to me…”

“No, no. You listen to me!” Mabel raised her voice, at the same time as she seemed to fall apart. “I know I told you to leave, but what are we supposed to do? We don't have any money, we're not old enough for it to be anything but more trouble. It will be resolved, we're not going back. Stan- Stan just wants the best for us, just like our parents…”

“No Mabel... No…”

“What if something happens to us in the middle of the forest? I couldn't leave you here and go for help. I don't even know where we are. What if I never see you again?”

“That's what will happen…” Dipper whispered.

“What?”

“That's what will happen if we go back Mabel! I won't see you again, don't ask me to do that. I won't.”

“Then what? I can't put your life or mine at risk. I love you Dipper, you know I do, you've always known how I've always known it. I know we can handle this.”

“I couldn't imagine a single day without you…”

“If it happens, it will be temporary, I promise... if it happens, it will only be for a while”.

Dipper turned his back on her, clenched his fists. But he only turned back to take her arm again and hug her, he needed to feel her warmth even if it was for the last time.

They didn't want to escape forever.

They stayed for a few more hours until the sun rose again, making the return journey much easier. They swore to each other again to stay strong, they weren't going to lie about their feelings.

What they didn't expect to find was all the lights on in the cabin, or their parents' car in the driveway.

They slowly approached, Dipper held Mabel's hand tightly while with the other he turned the doorknob.

[critfumbled]

Hi! I'd honestly love to talk about Akira because there's no one I know who even knows what it is :') Excuse the long rant, but I guess my main issues with the movie were:

Kaneda was so ready to kill his (basically) brother even though 10 minutes before he was essentially ready to die to save him

The fact that it appeared to me that Akira was most powerful being and all the other children were just trying to replicate him, but the government tabled him away? I see no need to rip Akira apart because they wanted to use him. Was it for later? Surely Tetsuo going apeshit qualified the use of Akira

The worldbuilding was a struggle for me because it seemed like the children (and Akira) were basically gods with absolutely no rules or limitations to their power. it seemed to me like all of them could manipulate time, space, and matter, so there wasn't anything that made each special or more powerful than the other

the kids really sacrificed themselves for a random teenager they didn't know, despite the fact that they seemed to follow the goverment and the government were clearly trying to take down Tetsuo

what's to stop this scenario from happening again, because the government could totally make another Tetsuo/Akira and the entire story can just repeat itself. other than city damage and deaths, there were really no consequences because it's not like the entire government died. This seems like a small part of a bigger story that was left unfulfilled

I didn't understand Ryu's role, as seemed like he was working with the government but Kei was pretty confident he was working with their freedom group? was he working both sides? his side of the story and his goals weren't clear to me

I do know that the pills have a big role in the manga (Kaneda's jacket) but the way they were just mentioned in the movie, it gave Tetsuo a lot of power, then was never explained bothered me.

Also this is totally a personal thing but one of my biggest book/movie pet peeves is when everyone knows something, but they're just using the vaguest terms to describe it to not let the audience know. not between Tetsuo and Kaneda , but between the military, all the scientists, and the kids, they kept just saying the VAGUEST terms for Akira to not let the audience know even though they all knew what they were talking about and that just grinds my gears because it's a way to build false tension instead of naturally letting it build up

I'm sorry for doing a super long ask, but I can't reply to people on my tumblr :/ but yeah those were my issues. I appreciated the art and the music slapped though, and I appreciate how it pioneered certain animation tropes, but overall I was super confused the entire movie

I want to start by saying that basically everything you mention here is expanded upon within the Manga. As I said before it is a lot longer and it is entirely different from the movie. If you are interested in the world, and the story, and you want to know more I would definitely recommend it. I feel kind of remiss in giving you all the details here as I think it will take away from the manga if you do intend to read it. That being said I'll try to give some broad strokes.

Firstly I agree it was a little rushed in the movie, but it was basically the death of Yamagata that turned Kaneda against Tetsuo, Yamagata was also a very close friend of Kaneda, being his right hand man within the gang.

The children were not an attempt at recreating Akira's powers, Akira and the children were apart of the same experiment that consisted of 41 test subjects. Akira was just the most powerful of said subjects.

Akira was the cause of the explosion at the start of the movie, this is why he was iced by the government/military, basically because they were incredibly scared of the power that he had, and the destruction that he could cause. Also they didn't have any way of controlling Akira, so releasing him would mean they would be releasing a world endingly powerful free agent, who they weren't sure they could stop again.

Regarding the children's sacrifice, I don't want to say too definitively as I don't exactly remember but broadly I believe it is because they are altogther altruistic, and they are still children. They are afraid of killing people, and they don't want any more people to die. Also they are very afraid of Akira returning.

Ryu was working with the resistance the throughout the entire movie. Im unsure as to where you got the idea he was a double agent. It's been a while since I saw the movie. Again however the resistance and their motives get a lot more "screen time" within the manga, which I would imagine would help to ease this confusion.

In regards to it all happening over again, we see in the movie that the government do not believe in Akira, and it is only really the Colonel who is pushing for more research in this area. The rest of the government see Akira and the project as a failure and a waste of resources. This also gets expanded on by the manga, with an entirely different ending.

In regards to the pills, I agree they could use more explanation within the movie. They basically ease the migraines that Tetsuo gets, as well as giving him a short term power boost.

I hope that helps. Admittedly it has been a while since I watched the movie, so don't take these as 100% fact. Also I tried to stick with the content of the movie, however it's hard to not think about it with the context of the manga as well.

[chanluster]

the duke and i | m ; f

“The Duke of Hastings can show you much more than what you write of.”

oneshot | bridgerton! au | f2l! au | 32.3k words

s u m m a r y >> wishing to be a successful writer in the regency period seemed next to impossible for the sole daughter of a dead earl. with arising pressures from your mother to tie the knot, you turn to your dearest friend, hwang hyunjin, duke of hastings and the most eligible, scandalous bachelor of the season, for assistance. when he suggests the insane of idea of marrying each other to help each other, you agree to the proposal, unaware of how much the duke can teach you of the wonders of matrimony.

w a r n i n g s >> noble! reader, duke! hyunjin, hyunjin is a fucking rake, reader is a fucking nerd, also really really innocent, hyunjin is sosososo hot, a lot of teasing, foul language too, endearments, sexual tension, kissing, making out, corruption kink!!!!! corruption! fucking! kink! oral (f. receiving) fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe hoemies!!) orgasming on multiple occasions, there is fluff i promise, yes there is angst, also seungmin cameo of him being a drunk fool, and slight references to regency poets and writers here and there

p l a y l i s t >> here!

t a g l i s t >> @fivefootfuryanon @h0eforhyunjin16 @seoulicitae @linoscult @aliceu @hwangi @shipsaremything98 @babyyynatty @kabira @danyxthirstae01 @sunseokkies @lunefilm @severetimetravelnerd @minaamhh @starry--koo @ninjaleeknow @hyunjeonnies @inlovewithasa @titleisyettobemade​ @maedesculpaeusoubi @fleeingreality @healinghyunjin​​

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e >> help i am back from the dead to finally give you bridgerton! hyunjin!! big apologies for taking so long, and i hope you enjoy this whopper :’) thank you for the constant support, and hope you won’t miss me too much while i’m gone ;)

back to masterlist

YOU TURNED THE PAGE OF YOUR BOOK AS YOUR MOTHER REPEATED THE RULES FOR THE TWENTIETH TIME THAT EVENING.

“And remember,” she droned on, voice barely audible from the din of the carriage ricketing across the cobblestone. “You must dance with as many dukes you can get your hands on. Especially those worth over 10,000 a year!”

“As you say, Mama,” you got out, not particularly focusing on her orders, but the characters in your novel, bickering sweetly with each other. You smiled at the heated conversation, marvelling at how the two people did not realise their undying love for each other.

Unfortunately, your mother caught the slight happiness on your face, and simply had to stample it. “Are you even listening to me, child?”

You hummed out a cryptic answer, but that was not enough. “Stop reading that rubbish, ____!” she ordered, trying to seize it from your hands, but you were too quick, keeping it out of her range. “You have a bigger issue at hand here!”

“Leave me be,” you murmured, hugging the novel to your chest, unable to feel its leather due to your long gloves enveloping your fingers.  

Of course you knew of the ‘bigger issue’ she would not ever stop speaking of. It was another matter entirely that you did not care for it.

“____, listen to me.”

Groaning, you directed your gaze towards your mother, who looked regal in a light golden gown, shawl enveloping her shoulders. “I know you would much rather have your nose stuck in those silly little novels of yours all day, God knows why.” She brought a hand out, planting it on the silk of your lap. “But that may have been excusable before.”

You understood where she was going with this conversation.

Your father is dead now. 

Pursing your lips, you looked out to the tiny window, exposing the other carriages closing up to the huge pathway of the Buckingham estate. The clattering of horseshoes upon the gravel entered your ears, but still could not blank out the information that lingered.

There is no hope for single women in search of a career. Especially if they have no fathers or brothers.

As your own vehicle came to a rest, behind the dozens of others, you held onto your book, a footman opening the door and holding his hand out to your mother. She taking it, you followed suit, dusting away at the dress and tilting your head upwards at the destination.

The Duke of Buckinghamshire could rival the queen herself with his estate — the faded, grey-red brick was alight, orchestral music tuning outside and seducing the guests to enter. Hundreds of windows plastered on the towering walls gave a glimpse of the chaos residing inside, a few couples leaning a little too close behind fans on the sill and men screaming over card game losses. A flourish of men and women adorned in their finest attire rushed to the entrance, the gigantic double doors of the manor welcomed every guest, and you stayed close with your mother as the two of you made your way up the steps, and into the estate.

The interior was even more marvellous — golden chandeliers dangled from the vast, painted ceiling, like glittering diamonds as it shed light on the hallway, servants ready to take any apparel and lead the way to the ballroom. Marble floors glistened as your eyes skimmed over the crowd, looking for a specific person among the riches.

Your mother, finding the host of this ball, patted your shoulder as she began to hurry into the main hall. “Come, my child,” she said as she tugged you along, “I shall reacquaint you with Her Grace.”

Before you could object, the woman rushed into the ballroom, the music louder as the orchestra resided right at the end of the hall, playing its sultry tune to the dancers emerging in the centre. You wished to study the place further, but were turned to face a large duchess of overwhelming dress, red skirts flowing and feathers of the same colour jutting out from her updo. 

“Ah, Lady ____!” the Duchess of Buckingham greeted with a shark’s smile. “Lovely to see you back in society. So soon, might I add.”

You had a right mind to say that it was against your wishes, but your mother chipped in, “You know how it is, Your Grace. When one has an unmarried daughter one can only stay in society until that is undone.”

“Rightly so.” the Duchess brought her fan to her chin, studying you thoroughly. “My sweet, you are a pretty girl.” Her eyes landed on the book you held. “But bringing a novel into a ballroom? Do you not wish to socialise at all?”  

“Perhaps not tonight,” you said with as much disappointment as you could muster. “The Dashwood sisters will entertain me well enough.”

The Duchess could not respond as you bowed lightly and left your mother’s side, rushing past the other men and women of titles before they could converse with you. Your eyes skimmed the crowd, in search of a particular man, but the amount of guests made it incredibly difficult. 

The dancing continued on, laughter ringing throughout the hall as you secluded yourself in a corner, next to the refreshments. The wondrous scent of cakes, pastries and other deserts seduced your senses, but you restrained your temptations as you sat upon an ornate chair placed beside the tables of food. 

An unfamiliar lord, as if waiting for you to be at peace, walked over to your side, and you had to contain your disdain as you instantly deduced the motivations behind his coming over.

Reaching out his gloved hand to you, he asked the most irritable question. 

“May I have the first dance with you, my lady?”

Brilliant. You looked up at him, plastering a tight smile upon your face. “I deeply apologise, sir,” you began, opening your book. “I am afraid my firsts are promised to another.”

Confused, he tried again. “How about the next dance, then?”

Why was he being so persistent? “I shall see,” you replied, not outright rejecting him, but hoping that he understood the implications behind your lack of acceptance.

Beyond puzzled, he hesitantly dipped his head in adieu, wondering at his rejection as he thankfully left you alone.

It was not like you were lying to him — your firsts for everything had been promised to another man. You were just fortunate enough to use that to your advantage.

Glancing over the crowd one last time in search of that particular man, you dove into the novel, hoping he stayed lost in the crowd for the night.

A sad smile exposed itself on your face.

The thought of Jane Austen gaining little acclaim for the writings in your hands crushed you. Maybe that contributed to her publishing anonymously, but still — everyone knew she was the lady behind your favourite works. 

In general, there was simply no other form of joy for you other than reading the works of women. The soul of your gender had only ever been captured by the writings created by ladies of your age and mentality. It almost felt like you possessed a personal connection with them when you read these novels; It felt like that Austen understood you on an emotional level, a degree not many people could comprehend.

You dearly wished you could write such flawless books yourself.

A slight frown enveloped your lips.

As if your mother would let you. Or any man she marries you off to.

Progressing further into the novel, you became so engrossed that you did not notice another man walking to where you were isolated, the soft leather boots near silent on the marble floor. You wished you had perked up at his presence, but you did not realise him there until he got hold of your book.

And snatched it right out of your hands.

A gasp escaped you, features twisting into anger as your eyes followed the origins of such fingers, closing your novel with a snap!

“Of course I see you engrossed in a book rather than in another man’s arms.”

The roll of your eyes was inevitable.

Because before you was the Duke of Hastings, smiling like a pirate finding long-lost treasure.

Your answering grin was more a flash of teeth. “No man is ever as interesting as a good book.”

Clicking his tongue, he plucked a flute of champagne from the table next to you. In truth, Hwang Hyunjin, unfortunately, was one of the most fascinating men you had ever encountered. The greatest giveaway was his appearance — the lean, delicate figure, elevated by his gorgeous features. His eyes, the colour of bitter coffee, shone with mischief as the glass settled on his plush lips, tilting his head back so his lustrous golden curls fell from his shoulders. 

His hair alone sent a shockwave through the city. The gentlemen in society spent their time in the barbers’ salons after his new appearance at Lord Lee’s spring ball, and although they aspired, they simply could not compete. 

Your best friend was a sacred image no being could ever attempt to replicate.

Releasing a dreamy sigh, he propped the empty flute back on the table, dusting away at his cream-coloured tailcoat. The trousers of the same colour hugged his legs perfectly, tightening at his thighs. “Now, ____,” he began, holding out his free hand before you. “It is time for a human being to entertain you.”

You raised your chin in challenge. “And what if I were to say no?”

The scoff that escaped his lips dared you to try. 

“You cannot escape me, angel. Alas, you have promised your firsts to me.”

Grimacing at the truth, you eyed the object he had seized from you, crossing your arms. “What about my novel?” you asked. “I cannot let you discard it in any old place.”

“How about this?” He took a step closer to you. “I will keep hold of it as we dance.”

“And how will you do that, blondie?”

The man narrowed his gaze at the term — a nickname you had established the moment he had revealed his golden locks to you, to his utter dismay. “Well, darling,” he mused, the hand hovering closer, “You are going to have to accept me first.”

First. Always him as your first.

Of course, you were never the one to refuse the Rake of London.

So, making sure you exaggerated as much disdain as you could, you grabbed onto his hand, feeling the determined tug of his hold as he led you to the dance floor. Finding a fairly empty spot among the dozens of other couples, he fully interlocked your fingers with his, snaking the book-held hand around your waist. Feeling the hard leather on your back, you let out a hum of approval as you propped your free hand on his shoulder.

“If you dare drop the book, Hyunjin,” you warned, digging your gloves further into the fabric. “I will tread on your boots.”

His answer was patting your prized possession behind your book. “You worry as if you don’t tread on them anyway.”

As the orchestra began, so did his feet, commencing the dance. 

You saw his eyes wander, pausing at a particular image which made him smirk knowingly at you. “I think you should be worrying more about your mother.”

Fearful, you followed his line of sight. There she was, talking to the other countesses with smiles and frivolous laughter as she pointed to your general direction. Their sons pursued her finger, and as they caught sight of you, you gulped. A small chuckle huffed out of your partner. “I think I might see you engaged at the end of the evening.”

“Do not even utter such words!” you exclaimed. “I will either die a successful writer or die a spinster.”

“You do know you can be an author while you are married,” Hyunjin pointed out, turning you about the room. 

Shaking your head at his statement, you countered, “That could not be further from the truth! Do you remember Lady Andrews?” An absent-minded shrug was his answer. “Well, she lives up north now, but she once confided to me that she wished to be a painter. Guess what happened to her?”

“I assume this is the part where you attack marriage.”

“Yes! Because her life was ruined after she was wedded to some wretched old viscount!” You shuddered depicting the details. “In the last letters she wrote to me, she spoke of her easels and paints being taken away from her. God, it enraged me when she begged the heavens for any kind of assistance to be rid of the man, but after she became with child, there was no escape.”

Sensing your fingers clenching onto him tighter, the duke instinctively patted the small of your back with your book. “I cannot risk such chains, Hyunjin,” you guttered. “I may not have much freedom now, but it is still better than none.”

Allowing yourself to be twirled by your friend, he brought you back into his arms. His silence, although heavy, was temporary, as his eyes settled on you. “Not every man wants to imprison their wife, ____.”

You did not bother remarking on the statement. “What about your own marital status?” you asked, changing the subject slightly. “Have you not found yourself a nice girl from the many you speak to?”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Speak to,” he parroted softly, as if in disbelief. “The ladies that I...merely speak to...their families are a nightmare.” The repetition confused you, but you persisted until he pressed his lips in an unamused line. “I just...do not want to marry these women. I do not feel any sort of affection for them.”

After a moment of quiet, you let out a huff of laughter. “Look at us, blondie.” You gestured to the crowds around the two of you, the chaos of it all. “Both of us are plagued by pressures of matrimony.” 

The music began its path to the crescendo, instruments sounding louder with every second your feet moved in tune to your friend’s. “It seems the value our freedoms too much to sacrifice it forever.”

He did not respond, eyes lost beyond you and the entire ball. His fingers upon yours tightened slightly, feeling the drum of his hands reverberating upon the book latched on your back. You cocked your head slightly, studying his faraway expression, wondering what matter had gained his interest so deeply. It was not an easy feat to gain Hyunjin’s attention.

As the violins sang out higher, the man’s grip on you loosened, almost as he became transported in his mind, losing all grasp on the reality he shared with you. Only when you smacked him lightly on the shoulder did he blink back, staring at you with mild irritation. “Hello?” you said, waving your gloved hand over his face. “Earth to Hyunjin?”

“Ah, um...sorry, angel,” he muttered, looking away as he picked up the pace of the dance once more. “I was just thinking.”

“Of what?” you asked, and when you caught the hesitancy in his gaze you groaned at him. “Oh, do not tell me you are thinking of some poor lady once again!”

“No!” he began, but then he frowned, shaking his head. “Well, yes, I...I suppose I was thinking of a certain lady.”

You grinned. “God help her, then.”

There was another moment of quiet among the buzz of the ball when he spoke again. “____.”

Your stare remained on his face. “Yes?”

As you kept watching him, you witnessed a slight blush arise on his cheeks. “So, um...as you said, correctly, that we both highly value our freedom…”

Not quite understanding, you drawed, “Yes?”

“And of course, you know how we are the best of friends,” he carried on, eyes boring into you, as if you were some child who needed extra explanation. “You know, how everything I would ask of you would be in our best interests.”

A raised brow was your response to his rambling. “Hyunjin…what is the matter?”

He stopped, realising he could not meander any further. Sharp sigh escaping, he proposed a plan which had been haunting his mind since the dance. 

“I think you should marry me, angel.”

The words caused you to still completely. Not a very wise decision, considering the dance was still in motion, resulting in Hyunjin stumbling forward into you. His tugging hands had you continuing, albeit with much more shock. 

“What…” your insides threatened to retch out of your mouth. “What did you just say?”

“No, no, listen to me for a moment!” He clamped his lips together, searching for the right words to argue his point with. “Now I know marriage is something you have disliked—”

“Dislike?” A scoff. “I think you mean absolutely detest!” You saw him almost flinch at your snarl. “How dare you even suggest such a thing to me?!”

“I know, damn it!” he exclaimed, discomfort clear in his voice. “But if you would hear me out!”

“And what is this plan you speak of, Hyunjin?” you seethed, suddenly tempted to ram your heeled slipper into his boot. 

The man looked much in need of escape from this situation, but he merely twirled you about once more, the climax of the music about to begin. “I am very aware of your hatred against matrimony, and believe me when I say that I share in your disdain. Have I not complained of the very ceremony when mothers from every corner of London came to insist for their daughters’ hands?

Grumbling, you nodded. “Exactly, so obviously I must have a good reason why I spoke of this matter.”

“Well, spit it out, then!” you snapped. “It already sounds outrageous.”

With the instruments chanting louder, he commenced. “We both have a dilemma with marriage, especially concerning the burden. Your biggest problem is the freedom being taken from you. Mine is having to live with a woman I have no feelings towards.”

He continued, feet moving quicker and quicker to the melody of the music. “But see, if we wed each other, then those problems would be solved instantly!”

You looked at him as if he was insane. “You do realise that I would still be married. My scrap of independence would be snatched from me anyway.”

“That would be true if you were marrying some silly old lord, who had no interest in you other than your titles.”

His hand on your back pulled you a little closer. “But you see, angel, you would be marrying me.” 

Around and around, the two of you whirled, never stopping for a second to the music. “And you have known me long enough to know that I would never stop you from pursuing your passions.” 

Higher the melody climbed, lost to your ears as your eyes widened. 

His words rang through you with every note that escaped the instruments, sailing through the crescendo that washed over the ball. “You...you would let me write?”

Hyunjin furrowed your brows. “Did you think any different?” he asked, quite offended by your surprise. “Did you really expect that kind of behaviour from me?”

You did not hide your fears. “You may be my dearest friend, but you are still a man.”

That had him twisting his mouth into a scowl. His hands on you clenched harder. “You know me better than that, darling.”

You did, in fairness. The Duke of Hastings, leading you along this dramatic waltz, had been a constant in the entirety of your life. It was in these very balls that he had happened to stumble upon you, a child barely touching your second decade with a children’s book buried in your face. He, the exact same age but with much more excitement, snatched that book from your hands and made you leave your seat, chasing the boy around the ballroom till you burst into tears. After that rather unfortunate event, you vowed never to be in the same room as him, but you somehow ended up being his best friend instead.

Maybe it was because both of you had overbearing parents, driven by pressures of society and personal expectations. Or maybe it was the simple notion that after a while, you began to enjoy his eccentric behaviour and rather addictive smiles.

Perhaps it was better that way, too. For you could not imagine life without Hwang Hyunjin.

Your gaze was apologetic. “I do, blondie,” you supposed, but you steeled yourself once more. “But I have a condition!”

“And what condition would that be?” he asked, swirling you around and around, waiting for the climax to strike any second. The ladies around you were breathless, ecstatic, the gentlemen smug, but you and the duke had only business in your minds.

“Promise me that we remain the same,” you said, never leaving his sight when the music boomed across the ballroom, raw melodies dancing along with everyone within the four golden walls. His grip on you was firm, unflinching as he spun you across the marble floor one last time, dark boots never missing a single note as he nearly swept you away from the chaos of society. “Promise me that you and I will not change.”

And as the music drifted to an end, he finally slowed down. There was a moment of silence, heavier still under his stare. 

“I cannot promise you that.”

His next words sent the strangest sensation down your spine. 

“For we would not be friends anymore. We would be husband and wife.” 

The ballroom erupted into applause.

You blinked back at the new noise, head darting at the couples beginning to clap at the ended dance. Although the others began to depart, the two of you lingered on the floor, hands still clasped. 

His stare never faltered. “I cannot promise you that,” he repeated, slowly shaking his head. “Nor can I guarantee you continuity. 

“What I can promise, though, is that I will not take away your freedom. You may write as much as you wish.”

It was then his hold on you eased, stepping away as he held out the book — never dropped from his hand, but firm as he brought it before you, a silent offer.

“What do you say, angel?” His gaze was impenetrable. “Will you be my wife?”

Among the lords and ladies, there was only you and him.

You and him against the world.

It was difficult, finding allies in a time you lived in. Reminded of your mother, you had a terrible feeling that only doom would fall upon you if you refused his help. 

With good reason, too. No man could match what Hyunjin offered. No man would ever let you pursue your literary passions. 

Not a singular male in this society would ever care for your basic freedom, other than he.

Another first, then. 

So, in the middle of the ballroom, with your mother watching, you held onto the book, gripping it with a firm promise.

You dared not depart from the Duke of Hastings’ stare.

“Yes, blondie.”

You exposed a smile, a mocking quirk in your brow.

“A thousand times yes.”

THE WEDDING HAPPENED QUITE IMMEDIATELY AFTER THAT NIGHT.

You insisted the wedding be small and intimate, for the ceremonies were already boring enough, but both your mother and Hyunjin insisted it be a grand occasion. 

The two of you tied the knot at Fulham Palace, a most esteemed estate dating back centuries, adorned in the finest flowers and gifts of nature surrounding its red-bricked walls. You had been there often in your childhood, due to the place being situated at the heart of your friend’s lands outside of the city, but seeing it decorated for your own wedding elevated the speciality of this abbey.

Many of London’s lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses had rushed to your invitation, fawning over the festivities and seated impatiently on the uncomfortable seating to await your arrival. Your friends, some bridesmaids, prepared your hair and fixed your dress, ordering everyone to take their places and sounding the instruments behind the altar to begin playing.

In truth, the ceremony was a blur.

Because this whole occasion was merely a plan, you did not deign to remember the memorable details of each event, the people who came or even the words recited by the priest.

However, the one figure you could not forget was your best friend.

No, you could not forget his face as you walked up to him slowly. It was a sight you had seen him expose only a few times in his life, when he would observe a flower open its petals in the morning, or regard a particular enchanting piece of artwork in an exhibition, which he would refuse to walk away from. You had raised a quizzical brow at him then as you slid the ring upon his finger, but he only offered you a wink, expression fading when the priest addressed you both.

Of course, another little detail you distinctly remembered was the declaration. The words which sealed a woman’s imprisonment.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Your gaze had darted to Hyunjin at that, finding him staring at you already. Meeting his gaze, you found the comfort you hoped you would receive.

The Duke of Hastings will not throw you into the cages of matrimony. 

This very thought had relieved your nerves as you thanked every guest who congratulated you on the wedding, a few friends wiggling their eyebrows and wishing luck for the honeymoon. You waved them off, not really understanding the connotations, but carried on struggling at the reception until the sun had descended, and it was time for everyone to return home. 

That very evening, the two of you set off for this particular honeymoon.

You bid your farewells to your mother, she much too emotional for your liking, and because Hyunjin had no parents to bid his farewells to, the wedding carriage was up and running before the moon had taken reins of the night sky. 

Conversation never ran dry as you journeyed out of the din of London and into the countryside. Your destination was a couple of hours away, so rest was mostly out of the question as the carriage sped on, eager to get the newlyweds to their new home. 

It was well into the night when you arrived at Hemingford Manor, one of the many estates Hyunjin had ownership of ever since his father’s passing. Engulfed within the lush nature of Cambridgeshire, the little estate exuded a comfortable sort of radiance which you would expect from warm fires of winter. The gardens surrounding its walls was a whole maze of trees, bushes and an assortment of flowers, heightening its already ancient regality. 

The arrangements were made immediately, a small household welcoming you at the door as they took your luggage, unpacking everything as Hyunjin showed you around. It was extremely intimate, you noticed, every feature of any room possessing an unusual air well before your time, almost telling a story of theirs from centuries ago. 

He brought you to the bedroom, the grand bed instantly in sight as it’s curtains were fully drawn around its wooden columns, bedsheets black and red with gold thread stitched in swirls at the hems. Two ornate chairs sat beside the windows, and a huge dresser sat opposite the bed, beside it the door to the en-suite bathroom. Oil paintings littered the red walls of his ancestors, noticing your friend’s portrait made in his youth. The entire room radiated warmth, and you found yourself easing completely in his den.

“Well, I guess I should prepare for sleep,” you began, shrugging off your coat, walking over to the chairs and  settling it upon one of the arms. 

Hyunjin blinked back, as if his thoughts had been interrupted. “Ah, yes, of course.” He gestured to the bed. “You can have this room. I can stay in the one next door.”

You looked at him as if he was insane. “Do a husband and wife not share the same bedroom?”

“Well—” the man put his hands on his hips. “Yes, but I do not want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” You stepped towards him, quite offended. “Have you forgotten when we would sleep in the same bed whenever I stayed at yours for the summer?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “We were children then, sweetheart. The situation is quite different now.”

“No, it is not,” you countered, matching his stance. “You were my dearest friend before, and you are my dearest friend now. That will always stay the same.”

That certainly quietened his tongue. He studied the stubborn quirk of your lips before sighing, unbuttoning his waistcoat. “Fine,” he quipped. “But I will not hesitate to throw you off the bed if you hog the sheets!”

You only offered him a scoff in response.

As the both of you began to ready yourself for bed, you opened your bag, making sure your papers were still intact. Counting up your drafts, you hummed in satisfaction before tying up the bag once again, setting it beside the dresser. Now, in your white nightgown, you went to the grand bed, slipping into the sheets. 

Grabbing hold of Pride and Prejudice, you continued reading from where you left off as you waited for Hyunjin to be suitably dressed for slumber. You hoped he would take longer than usual, but he disappointed you, as the fool always does, by arriving much earlier, frilled-collared shirt all loose and trousers all slack. 

The minute he saw you reading, he let out a groan. Leaning over, he snatched the book right out of your hands. “Hey!” You exclaimed, trying to take it back, but he stretched his hand away from you, propping it not-so-gently upon his bedside table. “Oh my God, not that harshly, you oaf! The book could tear!”

“I do not care!” He jeered, sliding into the sheets, propping his elbow so his hand supported his head. He swiped his locks away from his face, showing his full irritation. “Having your nose in a book on our wedding night!”

“Mr. Darcy was entertaining me just fine,” you sniped, crossing your arms. “You just had to be a Wickham and ruin the whole experience.”

“If this Wickham is a gift from the Lord Himself, then damn do I accept his name with pride!”

His ignorance made you laugh. Sliding your eyes to him, you matched his position, snuggling further into the pillows. “What does one even do on the wedding night anyway?”

Hyunjin’s amusement faltered at this, plush mouth parting ever so slightly. 

The Duke knew exactly what one does on the wedding night. 

As he raked his gaze over you, you waiting patiently for his answer, he wondered whether he should answer you truthfully. Tell you that he should be towering over you, kiss those pretty lips until they’re swollen and spit-slick, and take off that nightgown and uncover you before the stars. It was only customary, but the thought had his insides churning.

So he decided completely against it, to his absolute disappointment.

“How would I know? It is my first marriage as well.”

“Yes, but you’re aware of the ladies, and the gossip.” You leaned closer to him, unaware that the man’s heart halted for a second at the mere action. “When the guests were wishing me luck on my honeymoon they kept chuckling like children, as if they were in on a secret I was excluded from.”

“To hell with the guests, angel.” Hyunjin patted on your pillows, urging you to put your head down. “Our joining was very different from theirs. We can make our own rules.”

“Finally, an intelligent word from you!” You declared, but yelped as he pressed his hand on your head, sending you to the cushions. “Too harsh!”

“As I said, own rules,” he reminded you, a smile curling his lips. “Now please sleep! It is well past midnight.”

You shook your head no, resting your head in your arms. “Come on, Hyunjin! We have the whole night to ourselves, and you wish to sleep?”

Yes, he very much did. Because if he kept looking at you, excited and giggly and adorable, the tight leash he kept on himself would snap. 

He could not have his hands on you on the very first night. Not when you had no knowledge of what that meant.

“Well then,” he started, using all the strength in him to not curl a stray lock around your ear. “Tell me of your writings.”

His request had you face burning. “Never.”

The man made a face. “What?” He demanded, nudging you with his fingers. “Now you must tell me!”

“No, not now,” you hurried off, hiding your face in the pillows. God, the thought of your friend reading anything of yours made you sick to the stomach. “Argh!”

“But why?” he asked, a beginning of a pout etching onto his lips. “Do you not trust me, even though I have tolerated you for all these years?”

You turned to him again, furrowing your brows. “I do trust you!” You reassured him. “And I will tell you at the right time. Just...not at this moment.”

When you saw a frown develop on his face, you pouted at him, shame coursing through your bones. “To tell you the truth, Hyunjin, I am just embarrassed. It is so rough at the moment, so I want to show you the very best.”

“But I want to see everything,” he muttered. “Your worst and your best.”

“And you will see it!” You reached out, wrapping your fingers around his slender hand. The boy gaped at you at the sudden contact, but you continued. “You will be the first to see my drafts. I give you my word.”

The honest consolation brought the duke to a stillness. Hand enveloped by your fingers, he watched you await his reaction. 

Being the first to see your private writings was truly an asset. A special secret he would never share to another. 

“I wait patiently for that time, then,” he said, offering you a smile which melted your heart. “Now, I beg, sleep!” he added, bringing the sheets up to your chin. “I can tell you’re exhausted.”

Knowing your whining would be of no use, you looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Fine, you absolute bother.” You closed your eyes. “Goodnight, blondie.”

A small chuckle escaped him, never forgetting the hold you had over his hand. He regarded over your resting figure, curling ever so slightly next to him, and he just could not help himself.

Stretching out his other hand, his fingers tucked away your stray locks from your face, curling them behind your ear. The smile ghosted on his lips, and only then he sank further into the pillows.

“Goodnight, angel.”

 MARITAL LIFE WAS NOT AS TERRIBLE AS YOU IMAGINED IT TO BE.

A couple of weeks had passed as this ‘honeymoon’ period progressed in Hemingford, and you were beginning to settle in quite nicely to the peaceful time. The birds never ceased to chirp joyfully around the manor, the nature which engulfed the two of you like another living being surrounding you, silent yet welcoming. 

The scenery was perfect for someone like you, who was waiting for an environment like this to bring out the papers and put that inspiration to use. Hours rushed by as you sat under the trees beside the manor, writing away the scenes in your head as the maids brought you food. A few of those hours may have just been wasted on daydreaming, but that was the beauty of this entire situation — you simply had the time to waste in this retreat. 

Hyunjin had been more than satisfactory: he always came to dine with you for all meals, never concluding conversation, and made sure to accompany you on walks around the lands. Everytime you would step into new landmarks he would instantly recall the history behind it, explaining the work his forefathers had done on the manor, and lead you along till the sun followed you two down the horizon. 

You had initial fears. Just because he was your best friend before, it did not predict what his behaviour would be after marriage. You had heard many marital horror stories during the seasons of London society, and each one was worse than the last. Although you always knew the duke could never hurt you, there was no trusting the opposite sex. Fortunately for you, he rid those doubts from your mind, and maybe you began to have faith in the future.

There was, however, a downside to your new husband.

“Why will you not show me the drafts?!” he whined for the last time, following you into the house. Rolling your eyes for the millionth time, you took off your bonnet, handing it to the maid nearby. “I have waited long enough!” 

“I do not have to explain myself to you!” you argued back, grabbing your skirts as you rushed up the stairs, Hyunjin right at your heels. 

The man was much too quick, overtaking you instantly and barring you from stepping into the hallway. A groan was your reaction. “Let me through!” you ordered. 

“Tell me what your book is about.”

“I am not telling you anything!”

He curved closer to you, blond locks sliding off his shoulders. “Why?” he hissed, and you stayed stubborn as his hand on the bannister snuck closer to yours. “What have you written in there that is so exclusive?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, crossing your arms. 

It was not like you had written an anti-Duke of Hastings manifesto. Once again, it was just your humiliation — although you loved to write, there was absolutely no way you could ever willingly show him your work as of this moment.

You could not have your best friend be disappointed by your creations. 

So you turned completely on your heel, descending down the stairs.

“Hey!” you heard the man shout as you stepped into the entryway, picking up your book. “Where are you going?”

“To talk to the trees!” You looked over your shoulder, making sure to give him a glare.”Because I know they will not argue back!”

Before he could speak any more, you thundered out of the house, taking Pride and Prejudice with you. 

An enraged sigh escaped you, walking rapidly into the maze of hedges as you tried to stroll the anger away. When these silly arguments occurred, you began to wish that you had never told him of your work in progress. You could have just admitted that you liked to write, and feared that any other men would rob you off that hobby.

And on the last day of your honeymoon, too. Maybe you should have told him you were illiterate instead. 

Settling yourself upon the white wooden bench, right beside the forest, you opened up your book, gritting your teeth still as you immersed yourself in the world of Elizabeth Bennet. Although progressing, your thoughts drifted to another man who did not reside in the pages, and you found yourself even more aggravated.

Damned the beautiful bastard. Of course you were going to tell him of your writings. Why could he not simply wait?

The thought had you rigid on the bench as you read on, the mere wind and trees your silent company as you read away your rage. The duke did not come searching for you — it was for the better, because if he tried you would have ran away from his stalking figure. 

Night ascended from the horizons, and as the sun retreated so did you, back into the manor, book at your side. You nodded to the guards who opened the huge doors for you, letting you inside as you went straight for the stairs, void of the man who refused to let you pass.

Dim lights illuminating the way, you walked right up until your bedroom door greeted you, and when you saw Hyunjin, leaned back in the ornate chair as he looked out of the window, you paused at the entrance.

Although your steps were quiet, he turned his head to you. His features held a veil of unreadable emotions, cemented by the slight down curve of his mouth. 

You scowled at him as you stepped inside. “I am not showing you the drafts.”

He closed his eyes, nodding. “As you wish.”

You removed your coat, a brow raising. “I won’t show them to you tomorrow either.”

“As you say.”

Another brow joined its partner. “Nor will I show you them the next week.”

“Of course.”

What was this sudden change? “Hyunjin, are you unwell?”

“I am perfectly adequate, darling.”

The endearment had you frowning further. “Fine,” you muttered, knowing he was hiding something from you. “I will be inside, taking a bath.” 

You were about to enter the bathroom when his voice halted you.

“____?”

Looking over your shoulder, you answered, “Yes?”

The man let out a soft sigh, crossing his leg over the other. “I...I wanted to say that I apologise for my persistence.”

Now that was a statement you were not expecting. You opened your mouth, but closed it, thinking it was for the better, and instead leaned at the doorway.

“I…” he clasped his hands. “I realised that as I insisted and shouted, I was becoming the very man you wished to avoid. That is the last thing I want for us. If you are uncomfortable in showing me your writings, that is fine. A husband, most of all a best friend, should respect that decision.”

His eyes lifted to yours, pinning you with a fierce stare. “I will not persist with you anymore.”

You found yourself unable to break this stare as you, too, locked your hands together, biting your bottom lip at this turnout.

The duke had never apologised for anything.

In the many years you had known him, he would always stand by his decisions, even if they turned out to be disastrously against his favour. His stubbornness refused to let him submit to the other, and you had watched him have his boney backside beaten almost every week for it.

Hearing the plea for forgiveness had certainly changed that perception. 

You took a few steps toward him, willing your hands at your sides as his gaze followed. 

Was the denial really necessary? The poor man only wished to take a glimpse into your mind. Was that too much for him to ask for?

No. You had to stay upright. So what if he apologised? He should have! The man had caused a ringing in your ears from the arguing.

But now, even though the entire time your body repulsed at the thought before, you found yourself reaching for your satchel.

His eyes did not leave your hands as you brought out the papers, dumping your bag beside his feet. You held them out, knowing there is no way out of your actions.

“Here.”

Hyunjin looked at the papers as if they were hemlock. “Why are you showing me your drafts?”

You pursed your lips. “Because I want you to eat them.”

“I have no appetite for paper this evening, I’m afraid.”

The attitude had you warning, “Do you want to read it or not?”

He regarded you with an adorable puzzlement. “Darling,” he started, and the word had you raising it closer to him. “You do not have to show me. I cannot have you forcing to do something which you do not—”

“You’re not.”

He paused. Kept that beguiling stare upon you. You carried on, “Hyunjin, I need you to understand that it was never anything personal. It was me just...not really believing in myself.” Gently putting the small stack of papers in on his lap, you locked your hands behind your back. “But I gave you my word on our wedding night. And the day you proposed, and the day I realised you were a dear friend to me.

“You will be my first for everything. Especially in the goals and dreams I treasure the most.”

The duke’s eyes enlarged, darting to the drafts settled on his thighs and then to you, capturing your lip between your teeth in nervousness. He wished ardently that you would break that habit, for if you kept at it he might just grab your face and continue for you.

My first for everything. The declaration had his stomach turning in on itself. He knew he had been there for many of your firsts, but saying it out loud was something else. Saying it out loud meant you were aware of that fact as well. 

So unimaginable, that you did not even realise the impact you had on him. So unbelievably innocent, eyes searching for his answer, desperate for consolation, when he had completely different matters in mind. 

By God, if you did not turn around and leave him, he would let the control on him falter.

“I...I need to take a long bath, Hyunjin,” you said, finding his stare unusually penetrating. “By the time I am done you would have finished reading half of it.”

Turning, you stalked back to the bathroom, looking over your shoulder as you took a step inside. “No sweetening the feedback.”

You did not wait for his answer as you went inside, shutting the door.

Both of you, not realising that the other was doing so, let out a quivering sigh.

Something was amiss. 

There was this...tension. You did not know the origin, but you knew it was there, underlying and creeping closer. Hyunjin was unusually quiet. Compliant even. A small part of you feared that maybe you should not have given him the most vulnerable possession in your care.

Deciding to fill the hot water in the bath yourself, you got on with your task, filling buckets of water in the copper bathtub till it nearly overflowed. Once done, you got rid of your clothes, and stepped inside. You instantly relaxed as the warmth of the water soaked your skin, calming your nerves, which were running high moments before. 

As you progressed with using the soap, you distinctly heard the pages turning in the room next door. Scrubbing yourself, you hoped that the man was enjoying your words, or else you were never leaving this bathtub again. 

At one point, you leaned your head back, closing your eyes as the water, now mixed with the scent of roses, lapped lazily against you. Your thoughts, once again, wandered to the man a wall away from you — what was he thinking? You wished you were there beside him, witnessing his reactions to the actions, dialogue, romance you had added in there.

Maybe that was the real problem. The couple you had added in this story had a strong relationship, but because you yourself had never experienced any sort of star-crossed love, you did not particularly know how to portray the raw romance. Still, you made sure they held hands in the ballroom at chapter 49. That was the pace in every other book you read, anyway.

After what seemed like a whole night later, you finally got out of the water, drying yourself with the towel hanging beside the tub. Grabbing your white nightgown, you donned the light dress, keeping it as loose as possible as you tried to dry your hair further, opening the door.

When you looked up, you saw the duke, head down, scanning through the papers with a face so focused it worried you. You made to say his name, but his hand shot up, silencing you. He did not even glance at your figure, bringing the hand back to swipe a finished page. 

A little smile appeared on your lips. Is he...invested? 

Does he enjoy your writing?

Another ten minutes of observing him, and he put the last paper down. 

Slowly, he tilted his head upwards, turning to where you stood. His face expressed something cryptic — unable to decipher the emotion which swirled beneath his dark, glinting eyes. 

He then let out a scoff.

“Darling, I need you to sit.” He gestured beside him, on the edge of the bed. “Right here.”

Perplexed, you obliged, settling yourself on the soft sheets, watching him heave off his chair, the last piece of your draft still in hand. He began a pace back and forth across the room, shaking his head as he turned at every end.

The pacing began to concern you. “Hyunjin, is something the matter?” you asked, hands grabbing tufts of your nightgown. “If you really wish to walk then you have all of Cambridgeshire waiting.”

“Tell me, dearest,” he said, still thundering across the room. “Remind me why you did not want to show me your drafts.”

That was an usual first comment. “Umm...because I was embarrassed about my writing?” 

Your answer made him stop. Whirl to your direction.

“Ah, yes!”

His features twisted into anger.

“Such poppycock!”

You blinked back. “I-pardon?”

“No, you shall not be pardoned!” he exclaimed, pointing at you with the stash of papers. “Not when you have written something like this!”

“Hyunjin, what do you mean?”

The man nearly ripped his hair out. 

“____, you have written a bloody masterpiece!”

Your entire body stilled.

“I...I did what?”

“Wrote a masterpiece!” He swiped through the pages, lighting up at each word that passed his gaze. “A bestseller! An award winning novel!” 

A smile worked its way onto your lips. “You...you really think so?”

Sighing out in exasperation, he set the papers upon the desk as he began to lose his initial anger. “How could you be embarrassed about something so beautiful?” He put his hand on the gold chair, leaning onto its head. “Your descriptions were lovely, the characters are perfectly imperfect. You have outdone a lot of the writers in circulation.”

Your shoulders sagged a little — almost as if you had been carrying a heavy burden, and this man had taken it off of you.

You made sure he saw your joy when you said, “Thank you, blondie.”

Seeing the pure contentment upon your face had your friend looking away, eyes narrowing to the plans once again.

“There was, however, one thing which needed improvement.”

The setback had you straightening once again, eager to hear. At least he was not sweetening it fully. “Go on.”

“As I was reading through, right till the end, I noticed a lack of very important details.” 

That was quite strange. “A lack of?” you asked, when you were so sure that you had added too much of everything.

“Yes.”

His fingers drummed against the velvet of the chair. His other hand tightened upon his hip.

“I noticed that there was a deep lack of...passion.”

An incredulous look was your reply. “Passion?”

“Yes, passion. Desire.” He jerked his head towards the papers. “I hardly saw any of those emotions in the book.”

This new information was certainly quite worrying for you. “But I do not understand,” you started. “My whole novel is based on this relationship, of the love that blossoms and grows—”

“I understand that, darling, I really do,” he said. “I know what you are going to say.” 

The drumming continued. “But where is that residing in the chapters? Where is that physical lust implied in the characters?”

Lust. 

You had heard of the word before. Heard of its implications, yet never grasped the weight of its meaning. Was it just another form of longing? 

If only your mother had given you an education on this side of love.

“What do you mean...lust?”

Hyunjin raised a groomed brow. “What else could I mean, angel?”

The way he voiced that question, that endearment, had you parting your mouth, unable to say anything. You tried to speak, to say something to ease the tension which came slithering back into the bedroom.

“I...what were you expecting? From the relationship.”

Curling his locks behind his ear, his gaze became obscure. “You spoke of forbidden love, of...of a coupling which should not be occurring but happened through the fate of the universe. Is that right?”

When you nodded, he carried on. “See, I did not sense that from their exchanges. Their emotions are tame, chaste. An innocence which cannot be tainted.

“Now where is the fun in that?”

You dared not break his gaze. “What is that ’fun’?”

His eyes seemed to darken. “That ‘fun’ in the relationship is physicality. Where is that in your novel?” 

He took a step towards you. “Where are the unbreaking stares? The curious hands, aching to caress another’s? Where are the trembling breaths, the lust-stained sighs that fan lovers’ lips?”

The duke had you craning your neck back as he looked down at you. “Where are the kisses, my darling?”

You gulped. “K-kisses?”

“Yes, kisses,” he repeated softly. “Lips enveloping lips, tasting your inner workings? Travelling to your neck, your collarbone...places which cannot even be whispered in polite society?”

Each part he mentioned had goosebumps pricking at that certain place. 

The bastard still did not stop. “Where is that passion, ____? Where is that forbidden love, which only makes the heart burn wilder?”

And as he descended before you on his knees, delicate hands settling on your lap, you had a feeling swirl up your sides which had never struck you before.

“If I were the man in your book, I would not be tame with you.” 

His eyes offered a new, intimidating darkness. “Because if you were my woman, then I do not think I’d control myself. The moment I’d catch the innocence dancing in your eyes, I’d have waltzed it away into my shadows.

“Only God could save you from my hunger, then.”

Silence descended upon the two of you.

One waiting for the other to speak, and the other unable to form the words to do so.

The moon had illuminated your husband, one side of his face glowing like a celestial being, the other side basked in darkness. How strange, when he had compared himself to it just a few moments before.

You seemed unable to look away from him. His gaze, always intense, now had become so penetrating you wondered whether he could glance at your soul, quivering from his feedback. 

Improvements which you still did not quite comprehend, despite the implications.

Somehow, he could see it on your face. “I have a feeling you still do not grasp the idea. Is that correct?”

A half nod. “I…” God, speak! “I just...I have never understood it, Hyunjin.”

Your head dipped down, darting at the plains of your hands. “You asked me about lust, and I simply cannot answer because I do not know. I have never experienced such emotion.

“Hell, I have not witnessed a single action that you spoke of. How could you expect me to write of desires I have never even felt?”

This.

This was unchartered territory. This was a terrain you had not explored with him.

Yes, he was your best friend. But one does not talk of such...dangerous conservation when your best friend happens to be a male — a complete rake, at that.

It seemed as if the rake, too, was thinking the same. 

His legs, a force which had never let him down, threatened to buckle under him. His mouth opened, only for silence to answer you. 

Lord and all His subjects help him. He did not think he could contain it any longer.

And as his eyes exposed you, vulnerable before him, he only knew of one thing — one fact within this ocean of uncertainty you swam in.

He would jump into the waters for you. But not to haul you out to safety.

No, the duke would drag you down further, with him as your sole saviour.

Or even your destroyer. Your fated undoing.

For the Duke of Hastings will absolutely ruin you, body and soul.

“Hyunjin?”

A blink.

A singular action, dragging him back to dark, dark reality, even sweeter than his fantasies as it sat before him, shy and wide-eyed.

An innocent reality all for him to defile.

“Yes, angel?”

You tried not to shudder at his lilting whisper. “How am I to be helped?”

The man did not even think of the possibilities, to your surprise.

If only you knew, how long he had kept them hidden for.

“How about...how about I assist you?”

Confusion washed over your features. “And how would you assist me, Hyunjin? You have never written a novel.”

His answer was a chuckle, revealing slight glimpses of his teeth as he stood.

“That is true, yes.”

Sitting down beside you, he planted his hands behind him on the bed, leaning into the position. 

“But what I can provide aid for is the one feature you lack in your writing.”

His voice right behind gave you a fright.

“Pure, raw lust.”

Looking over yourself, you watched him reclined in ease. Your speech was uneven as you said, “And...and how will you help me with that?”

“Simple, my darling.” A pause, looking you over. “I shall provide you with examples. Show you what truly happens between a man and woman when all they yearn for is each other.”

He saw the further questions in your gaze. The questions you dared not voice out loud, perhaps dared not understand. 

Smirking, he sat himself up, eyes never leaving yours as his hands encircled your own, bunched up in your dress. As his fingers brushed against your linen he felt his skin go aflame. 

“If, of course, you would let me.”

Tilting your head slightly upwards, you sensed a foreign warmth envelop your face, burning at the sight of your friend studying you like an empty canvas, begging to be filled.

Perhaps you were an empty sheet of paper, waiting to be painted with guidance by the master. Maybe that master was beside you all along.

“What will you do to me, Hyunjin?”

There it was. The question which may have been his drug — his purest form of opium. 

Because when his hands travelled upwards, sliding to your face and imprisoning you with his stare, he knew he would become addicted.

“Not only show you what real passion looks like.”

A shame he did not care for his well-being when you were so fucking tempting.

“But show you what real passion tastes like.”

The shuddering breath that left you caressed Hyunjin’s lips, and he debated throwing the whole course of patience out of the window, and ravage you this second.

But he would never do that. Not unless you asked him to. 

“May I?” He whispered, eyes heavy lidded. The need for an answer was beyond rationality.

You looked at him one last time before you let your heart answer for you.

“Show me, Hyunjin. 

Those three words were all it took for the duke to close the distance. 

Close the final space which had stayed so irritably prevalent, when he brushed his lips against yours. 

The first thought that came to mind was how soft his mouth felt. 

Plush lips, moving against yours with the utmost gentleness; as if testing the waters, familiarising their new surroundings. He did not know what to expect, which was a thought that shocked him. Had he not bedded half of London to know the ins and outs of how a man should pleasure a woman?

Still, his vast knowledge could not prepare him for you and your shy acceptance.

His fingers cradling your jaw, satisfied, he delved in a little deeper, the weathered leash beginning to loosen as he found his opium upon your mouth.

You attempted to follow his actions — letting him lead the kiss as if it were the many dances you had partaken with him, treating this as yet another waltz you both had to share. The issue was, dancing never brought you the unnerving thrill that these ministrations did.

Hyunjin’s kisses were quite indescribable. 

When he tilted your head with the pressure of his fingers, gaining the fullest possible access to your lips, he thought his heart would burst from his chest. So compliant, you were, trailing after his actions. His pleasure heightened when he felt your heartbeat race beneath his fingertips, which resided just underneath your jaw. 

He would have been a happy man if he continued the kiss forever, but he forced himself to break away, remembering that this was your first, that you were not acquainted with the dance of passion. His gaze pried over your features, and a famished smile nearly broke upon his face.

He found you shivering beneath his grasp.

Lips glistening, courtesy of his own, eyes wide and skin warm, there was no other reaction which the duke would have savoured more. A fearful excitement resided upon your beautiful face — almost as if you were scared of yourself, of the feelings he ignited within you.

The man was not far from his prediction. You were positively terrified.

Terrified of the fire-like emotion that threatened to turn your stomach in on itself. It was an extraordinary sensation — as if you were engulfed by some unknown, mysterious fire, and Hyunjin was the one sparking it to life.

You parted your mouth, trying to speak but to no fruition. 

And him, whose eyes grew darker at the lack of words, curled his fingers to your jaw, smirking. “I can hear your heartbeat from here, darling.” A singular finger tapped against the spot, where your blood pumped quicker than usual. 

Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears too, making you all the more aware of the situation — you may not know what these feelings were, but you needed to find out.

It was not entirely your fault. A writer must do their research, after all.

Painfully swallowing the lump in your throat, you made yourself speak, asking the questions which haunted you. “Is...is this all?” you got out.

Hyunjin slanted his head a little, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” your hands instinctively reached for your lips. “What we just did. Is that all that happens?”

The hesitation had him chuckling, the shaky exhale caressing your mouth. “Do not pretend that you were unaware of kisses,” he mused, and you desperately tried to look away. 

The slight grip on your jaw had you unable to do so. “And as for your question…” the smirk remained. “We have barely touched the surface.”

His other hand skirting downwards, it grazed along your collarbone, tumbling to the free space at your side. It settled itself among the bunched linen, holding you steady. 

“I can show you more,” he whispered. “If only you wish it.”

Face burning further, you closed your eyes, letting your head dip in acceptance. You could not even think at this point — you were curious. Beyond intrigued, wondering whether these feelings would swell up more, take you into another reality farther from your imagination.

It was a slight inconvenience that Hyunjin shook his head. 

“No, my darling,” he said softly, the fingers on your jaw sliding to your chin. “I want you to say it. Say you want more.”

You had not the slightest idea what this ‘more’ was, but you sure wished to discover — judging by the ravenous gleam in your husband’s stare, he wished for you to find out too.

“Fine then, Hyunjin…” one last pause ensued. “I...I want more.”

The said-man let a small groan escape before capturing your lips again. 

He knew he was being selfish — almost pouncing on you like a man starved, grip on your side tightening as he quickened his pace, slowly prying your lips open.

When you felt his tongue skim along the seam of your mouth, you found yourself opening up to him, shocked at the sudden enthusiasm. Your hands, unoccupied, fumbled at your lap, unsure of their use until Hyunjin, his own hands leaving you, held onto them. 

With precise direction he placed them on his shoulders, all the while slithering his tongue inside. You found yourself gripping onto him harder as he explored you, he himself nearly transcending at your yielding. A groan threatened to escape, but was drowned out by his mouth, closing over yours and kissing you insane. 

His tongue worked wonders within you, swirling along with yours, desperation increasing with every time you complied with his actions. He opened your lips a little wider, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip, and you could not contain your moans any longer. The whimpered replies had him tugging on your lip, slowly sinking his teeth on the swollen flesh. Your fingers could not grasp harder, the lock around his neck tightening with a growing need.

Is that what it all was? Urgency? What was this need for?

You hoped with all your heart that Hyunjin would know.

He pulled away from your mouth, and with gasped breaths, he got out, “Angel, may I—” His thumb caressed the corners of your lips, trailing down to your neck. “May I kiss you here—?” 

The second the ragged yes escaped, the man’s mouth began peppering little kisses along his finger’s trail, leaving your skin burning with every touch. Dipping his head into your neck, he tugged down the neckline of your gown, settling on your collarbone. The hem descended to your shoulders, threatening to fall at your waist. 

His kisses did not falter, even when you gasped out his name, a soft cry which only grew when his teeth grazed at your skin. Pain bloomed at the touch, but the feeling did not last long, replacing it with his tongue lapping up the mark. The dull ache remained, yet forgotten as he created a pattern of these stinging sensations.

“____,” he whispered upon your skin, a hypnotic chant which only had you whining in response. His mouth skimmed right up to your ear in frantic. “I...I must show you even more.”

You stilled completely. “E-even more?”

Hyunjin’s eyes did not leave yours as his hands travelled down, holding onto your sides. Slowly, he tugged you forward, your body merely following as he laid you down into the bed. Your heart hammered as he towered over you, the loose shirt revealing a glimpse of his chest, and his locks, drooping down to your face.

Your hands held onto the sheets. The gesture had him melting, so endeared by your little scares. What would you know of what will follow?

His idle fingers began to roam. With every shuddering breath they journeyed further below, until they found the hem of your nightgown. He held onto the fabric, slowly sliding it upwards. 

You hissed slightly at the cold that welcomed your bare legs, but it was overshadowed by his warm caresses, every touch causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Or something of the sort. That was what it felt like to you, anyway, with how out of place the reaction was. 

You asked him as his fingers paused, right on the edges of your upper thighs. Confusion, mixed with an overwhelming sensation, washed over you with every phantom touch. “What are you—” you paused as his hand tugged your legs open, ever so slightly. “What are you to do with your fingers?”

His answering gaze had you praying for the Lord. “How about I show you instead?” The contact lingered. “I promise it will feel wonderful.”

There was no other answer you could offer him. A hasty nod could only suffice as, with that signal, the duke braced himself for what he had been dreaming to do.

Nothing prepared you for the feeling of his fingers past your thighs. 

Your breathing hitched as they teased against your entrance, running slowly along your slit. He collected the arousal which pooled at the apex, mouth agape from your reaction. 

How you were drenched for him. 

The very sight, and the prolonging idea, had the man exhaling sharply. Even now, he could see in your gaze — you were unaware of your own responses, your body’s hurried joy as it begged for his fingers to delve in further. 

Tonight, he would show you a glimpse of his fantasies. 

His one finger slipped inside you, and you felt the world turn.

Slowly, so painfully slow it slid between your folds, completely halting your breath as you gaped at him. He held your stare with a dark intensity — no doubt there was hesitation on his part, scared his control would shatter, terrified he would submit to your desire and break you under his hold. Already the thought was so appealing. 

Still, he kept his fantasies at bay, holding your face like a fragile artifact as he delved deeper. A soft moan escaped your lips, and he cocked his head, realising it was a whine you tried to contain. 

“Angel, please,” he murmured, and when he paused on his journey you looked at him in desperation. “Don’t be shy with me.”

And then, grip on your side tightening, he began to pull his finger out.

This time, it was impossible to restrain. 

A heightened gasp shuddered out of you, gripping onto his shirt. How could an action so simple be so electrifying? The idea could not make any sense, but it did not need to when it brought such pleasure. You pulled on the fabric harder, elevating Hyunjin’s joy at seeing you so bothered.

“Yes, just like this,” he cooed, repeating the movement. This time, though, he quickened the pace as he began peppering little kisses upon your face. Each brush of his lips was like fuel to the fire below, growing angrier with every leisured plunge. “Say it all for me.”

You did not need to be told twice. 

Your whines grew as he quickened, foreign waves of mysterious origin overtaking your body. You feared his singular finger might be enough to do something drastic, but then his thumb started to wander. When he found your clit, he created a slow pattern of circling the bud, causing you to squirm beneath him. 

Seeing him above you was all too much — you needed his lips upon yours, needed to be lost in his tongue or else you would lose your mind. “H-hyunjin,” you stammered out, and the dazed expression had him reeling. “Please...please kiss me.”

He nearly moaned at the request itself. There you were, asking for his touch. His delirium spoke for him, letting his delusion a little astray. “But darling,” he muttered, leaning his face closer to you. “How can I watch you like this if I simply kiss you?”

Releasing his finger till the mere pad remained, he smiled at your panting. “How will I be able to watch you when I do this—” and brought two digits inside you.

He felt your walls pulsate around him, and he revelled in your reactions, the groans that followed with his delving. So, so compliant. So wonderfully welcoming, when all he did was touch the surface. 

Your speech was all muddled, broken words and half-prayers as his fingers worked within you. As if that was not enough, he curled them inside, and there, he brushed against a spot which had you seeing stars. You could hardly stay still under his grasp, squeezing your legs together. 

“Fuck,” he slipped out, and the curse itself had you fisting your hands in his shirt, damning the turnout if it were to tear. “Sweetheart, it’s okay to let go, keep those legs open.”

Further fastening his labour, you found yourself developing the most intense feeling in your gut — like a dark, swirling ball, aching to be released. You tried to raise your head to kiss him, but he only did the same, you barely missing him.

“Hyunjin!” You gasped out, and the said-man knew that no orchestra could compete with the music you tuned for him. Grabbing clumsily onto his collar, you tried with meak strength to bring him down. “Something...it’s wrong, something is amiss—”

You cut a glance down, where your cunt was more than occupied with his digits. “Wh-what am I feeling?!” In a frenzy you stared at him again, tears pricking your eyes. “Why do I feel—”

The duke only shushed you, a gaze akin to affection being offered to you as he trailed a slender finger upon your cheek. “Oh, sweet angel,” he whispered, voice a little breathless.

“That is me keeping my promise.”

And when he finally swooped your lips in a heart-wrenching kiss, fingers never stopping below, you let the overwhelming feeling take over. The aching was freed, and you broke away with a cry as you released onto him, spilling onto the sheets. 

Hyunjin commenced a trail of sweet kisses upon your face, slowing his work inside you. Lethargy washed over you, and you barely sensed him slip his fingers out until the hollowness of your cunt welcomed you in his stead. 

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you watched him as he brought the two digits to his parted mouth, sucking softly on the skin. A low noise hummed out of him, and you found yourself growing warmer all over again.

He caught you looking at him, and he slipped his fingers out with a pop!

“Truly divine, you are.”

Skin burning, you quickly shimmied your nightgown down, earning a chuckle from your husband. “That was…” you began, and you did not know why the thought made you so flustered. 

“Do not worry your pretty mind, sweetheart,” he reassured you, flicking your nose. “Your release was answer enough.”

That only had you all the more embarrassed. “Hyunjin?”

His eyes rooted to yours. “Yes?”

“Was this…” you paused, trying to find the right words. “Was whatever we did...everything? Was this the end?”

Despite the two of you only finishing now, the duke had his gut turning in on itself all over again. This time, he let patience take over. He had been rewarded more than enough.

He still answered with a hushed tone, offering you another vision. Another promise, which he intended on fulfilling even further. 

“Of course not, angel. This was merely the beginning.”

 THE NEXT MORNING SAW THE TWO OF YOU IN LONDON.

It was a much more gradual journey than the previous one, with all the time in the world to go back to the duke’s main estate, where he was called to work after weeks of leisure. You, first indignant, were now devastated to leave Hemingford, a place which became a special haven in such a short time. 

But of course, one could not neglect their husband. Not when that husband would never let you leave his side.

Hyunjin was all eye-smiles in the carriage, hands refusing to let go of you despite your complaints. You did not particularly mind, but when he resorted to kissing you with the curtains drawn, your levels of embarrassment nearly broke the scale, amusing him to no end. 

There was no stopping him, though. After taking the first heated step with you, the vault of restraint in his senses had cracked. All this time he had proceeded with caution, but your heightened whimpers of the night before had undone the cellar of his desires. 

Once again, you had experienced another first with him. A first which he wanted to conquer for a long, long time.

Unfortunately, business called, or else he would have stayed a few weeks more. Damn the men begging his presence, when he could have explored every layer of your innocence in that manor, revelled in ruining you of your ignorance. 

He thought he had time to show the world of pleasure. 

Alas, the fantasy he created in his Manor had to fade.

Reality crashed upon the two of you unfairly quick — there was not a moment’s rest as you arrived at Lansdowne, the official estate of the Hwang family nestled in Mayfair. It was more an enchanting palace than a home, every room, furniture and painting like pieces out of a fairytale. You could never forget the first time you entered, knowing that despite your previous comforts, you were to be spoiled in this abode. 

The unfavourable situation which turned out from this was that your husband was not present to spoil you in his royal den.

As the days began there, with banality taking over, the two of you barely had any occasion to spend some time together. Business sunk its claws into the duke, refusing to show mercy. All the days and most nights, he managed tenants on his lands, heard their complaints and attempted to provide solutions. 

The problems arose while he was away tending to you in your getaway, his subordinates incapable of handling the work he did so effortlessly. It frustrated Hyunjin to no end, when he had to learn these strategies since his adolescence, yet his employees, far older than him, could not manage to use his funds efficiently. 

Although this meant time was sparse together, you did not mind so terribly. Having solitude meant having opportunities to write, and so you threw yourself into your drafts. You revised the more intimate scenes between your couple, and dared write down your first experiences onto the page.

Even documenting the occurrence had your stomach fluttering — when he kissed you delirious, going as far as slipping his fingers inside you. It felt like a delusion in your mind, scared that you merely created such events through your imagination, but you could not not make up such passion.

Hwang Hyunjin had shown you a very tangible fantasy.

It was these memories that kept you company as you penned down your world, a couple thousand words being scrawled on paper everyday. You wished to talk to him about taking matters further with your novel, but whenever the two of you had the occasional dinners you could not bring yourself to address the subject. He was already so occupied, and dumping your own tasks on him would devastate you

So you secluded yourself into your room, and only wrote.

Few weeks into Lansdowne, and you began to miss him.

You did not know how this feeling entered, but the moment it crawled into you it was all you could endure. It was not uncommon for you to miss your dear friend, even before marriage, but now that you lived with him, the situation changed. During the afternoons, when you burned your mind from the constant writing, you longed for his presence; conversation never ran dry when he was around, and the maids who offered refreshment were hardly an alternative.

Your longing, unfortunately, did not stop there.

Ever since that fateful night, you failed in shaking off the ever present tingling. His midnight eyes, akin to the devil, haunted you in isolation, and the sheer image of his full lips quickened your heartbeat. In fact, when you wrote a similar recount into your writing, the incident came into your mind so clearly you had to abandon the task altogether. The familiar wetness pooled at your core, and you cursed the heavens for being weak.

His fingers had an everlasting impression on you.

That was a whole other problem — you and Hyunjin, because of his tightening schedule, hardly had any opportunity to explore further of what happened. Teasing words and stolen kisses were your only alternative, and you dared not ask of him to do more. Your cowardice may have been one of the main reasons, but he was another factor of your silence. The man came home every night, so exhausted that even requesting to have him satisfy you brought you shame. He was much too tired, and you could not be selfish.

So you did not bother him. Let him leave every morning, and imagine what would be if he did not have so many responsibilities.

However, another couple of weeks later, and the need became unbearable.

Your every thought and feeling was replaced with this...this urgency. It was horrifying to you, never having been forced to such extremes, but it preyed on your mind like a beast. Meaningless tasks turned into burdens, sleep was lost, and your very heart threatened to burst from the intuitions. You wished to stop, but once you remembered that phantom touch, it was over. There was simply no alternative.

During those times, you could barely look at Hyunjin, offering you tired smiles as he disappeared into your chambers. You figured he did not notice, or else you knew he would make a comment on your worsening state. Truthfully, you were overjoyed that he was too exhausted to see you like this. If there was any chance he was aware, that alone would kill you off.

But this desire, too, was slowly withering you away.

Even as the sun began to descend, birds singing softly beyond your intricate window, soon to be drawn to a close. The library was bathed in gold from the light, painting your face as you attempted to write the last of the chapter, but to little success. 

You figured your creativity had had enough of being stuck in your bedroom, so you opted for a change of scenery, but the parasite was at hand, churning just below your stomach. Even with the thousands of books settled all around you, radiating their knowledge, the ache remained, dull yet present. You scowled, pushing the pencil harder in your hand.

The poor lead broke suddenly, making you flinch. “Argh!” you let out, throwing the object upon the desk. Useless — you were so utterly useless, reduced to a mold of nerves, growing with each image that passed in your head.

Cursing, you put your hands in your lap, looking to the gardens beyond the window. 

There is nothing you can do, ____.

The need arising, you slid your palms back, enough so they rested over your core. 

A dangerous thought entered your mind.

That’s not true. There is one solution.

Your eyes widened.

Of course, there was always that alternative. Glancing down, you involuntarily pressed your palm to your clothed cunt. Already a wave of pleasure washed over you, and you suppressed any sound with a hand to your mouth.

You cannot. By God, you cannot do such a thing.

Especially in a bloody library.

Turning around, you glanced at the bookshelves guarding your figure, stretching to the painted ceiling. As an aspiring writer yourself, you cursed yourself for suggesting to do such an action in your temple, with the place your church and the books your Bible. 

However, when the ache begins to creep over, your morality seemed to fade at first flight. 

What a shame your brain was not to be listened to.

Shooting up from your chair, you nearly fell to the plush carpet, leaning against the desk. Gradually, you took a step forward, and another, searching for any secluded area among the lines upon lines of populated shelves. 

“Where is it, where is it,” you mumbled to yourself, passing the Greek Literature aisle, moving further into the darker section. When you spotted the end of the library, you turned to a dim lit section of Romantic poets. “Aha!” You exclaimed, finding the place you were searching for.

This particular section has been a favourite little hiding place for Hyunjin. Recalling the memories, you always caught him here whenever the two of you played hide-and-seek, or when to comfort him here after a particularly harsh spat with his father, the late Duke of Hastings. Above all else, he found himself isolating here whenever he wished to read by your insistence, finding solace in the words of Blake and Wordsworth, picked up on the shelves. 

You, on the other hand, did not come here to read. 

Backing up against the wall, you let yourself fall to the lush carpet. There was barely enough space to stretch your hands apart, feeling the wall on one side, and the bookshelves with the other. It was small trouble, though, as space was not the priority — simply distance. 

Thankfully, you had time — dinner would be served in about an hour, and the servants had been told not to disturb you as you ‘write’.

It was now or never.

“Lord forgive me.”

Grabbing onto your skirts, you raised them upwards, along with your petticoats. After undressing your pantalettes, your white stockings came into view, ending right above your knees, tied with baby pink ribbons. 

With your underwear gone, you felt the cold caressing your dripping cunt. Immediately your fingers rushed to swipe at the arousal that pooled onto the carpet, a hiss escaping your lips. Then, moving higher, you felt the swell of your clit, and began to rub circles, so, so slowly — just like Hyunjin did, exactly like his fingers did.

The ripples of pleasure crashed over you with every swipe of your fingers. It was the most wonderful feeling, experiencing it after a span of weeks. Yes, somewhere in the back of your rational mind, you knew you looked pathetic, whining softly from your own efforts, but your desperation took over; you had been patient long enough.

Your desire, however, had no such moments to waste with such gradual rubbing, so pent up inside you that it forced you to quicken your pace. You prayed that no one heard you, for the sobs that flew out your mouth increased, playing and teasing your clit till it nearly numbed you.

The real bliss poured out when you plunged two of your fingers into you, going deeper and creating that identical pace, relished before. You closed your eyes, and images came flashing back — the midnight eyes returned, along the malicious grin, and suddenly it was not your fingers that pulled and pushed into your cunt. Your mind dared to conjure up Hyunjin, his dark laughter ringing in your ears as he curled his fingers into you, reaching a spot which had you seeing the seven heavens. 

So far along, you did not care if the others heard. With your concoction before you, fingering you delirious, you called out his name. A panted “Hyunjin!” squealed out of you, the word laced with madness. How you begged for release, when it was actually in your control.

And maybe you would have come all over your fingers at that moment. Maybe that was a fantasy that would have been rewarded to you if reality had not been so unkind.

For it was reality that arranged a presence turning to his favourite hiding spot. For it was cruel, cruel reality, bringing at your secret aisle the very man who caused your current frenzy.

Hwang Hyunjin. 

Sweet Duke of Hastings, who thought to surprise his wife and return home early, so he could join her at dinner this evening. Curious Duke of Hastings, who found the servants informing of your ‘work’ in the library, and so walking to you himself, expecting the distant sound of sighs and scribbles on paper. 

Shocked Duke of Hastings, when he heard his name instead, being moaned at the end of his library. 

His pupils dilated, gloved fingers hanging on the edge of the shelf, he grew flushed in his attire as he watched your near undoing. You whimpered his name over and over, as if that was your only comfort among the heavy sensation in your gut, the pleasure which numbed your senses. He trailed down to your sopping fingers, clumsy in their rhythm.

A shuddered breath escaped him.

It was then he let out the most self-satisfactory scoff. 

That moment, you opened your eyes. Widened when they settled on your husband, face exposing an aghast expression as he crossed his arms, gaze never leaving the mess between your legs.

He had the audacity to grin wickedly.

“Oh my, sweet angel. What do we have here?”

Your entire body stilled, fingers frozen inside of you. Every ounce of strength, which tried to make you speak, abandoned ship. 

Noticing clearly, a splutter of hellish laughter spilled from his lips. “All this time,” he began, feline amusement dripping in his voice. “All these lonely, lonely weeks, I was so guilty.” His boots made a soft thump against the carpets, grey longcoat fluttering after him. “I kept thinking, see, of you, so alone and unentertained. Stuck in her chambers all day and night, burning out her brain with her words. Writing of my examples.”

He unbuttoned his overcoat, pinning you with his gaze. “Little did I know you were impersonating me.”

You almost cried with shame. 

“God, I doubt I can call you angel, again,” he drawled, tossing his woolen jacket behind him on a nearby chair, pulling off his gloves. 

He uncovered his slender hands, continuing, “Not with your fingers still in your cunt.”

That nearly had you in tears — you yanked your digits out, making to push your skirts down in a hurry but were dutifully stopped by his raised voice.

“Pray, darling,” he inquired, and you could taste the ridicule as he stood before you, crouching down. “What do you think you are doing?”

He did not give you time to answer as he grabbed your hand, half-soiled by your endeavours. “Why have you stopped the show when the intended audience has arrived?”

All these questions messed with your senses, squeezing your thighs together as the high, threatening to undo you before, began to fade. “Hyunjin—” you said, but you were interrupted, as, with his hand, he lifted your trembling figure with ease. Legs unstable, you let him steer you until your back hit the bookshelves.

“Another notion puzzles me too.” His golden locks skirted along as he cocked his head.

“Why did you scream my name when you touched yourself?” 

Your mouth parted, remembering your incessant whining. The thought caused your entire body to burn up, your husband taking instant note. “Come on, now, darling,” he taunted, grip on your hand tightening. “We both know you are more than capable of speaking.”

It was surprising how you managed to speak, despite the phantom touches.

“I…” you paused, embarrassed that you tried to tell him the truth. “I do not know...damn it!” you hissed as you saw a phantom smile accompanying his hands. “I had this...this need, Hyunjin. Everytime I recalled that night, I…all I wanted was some sort of...release.”

“Oh?” he got out, and he had to cage you with his hands for his own stability. 

The thought of you, withering in pleasure — pleasure you did not realise you yearned for — had his mind transcending any sense. There he was, stirring the cauldron of desire bubbling in your veins, your face twisting in pain from your lack of knowledge. 

He had to pray for forgiveness for his mentality, but at this moment in time, he only knew of one religion. You, and your wishes, whispered in panted breaths.

“If that was what you felt, then why did you not tell me?”

If it was not for his hand gripping yours, you would have covered your face. “How could I?” you whined out. “You were so busy! I could never be selfish enough to put myself before you.”

His heart nearly burst from his chest. “My darling,” he hummed, stroking away the flyaways upon your face. “Do you not realise that I put you before myself?”

Your confusion had him continuing. “If you had told me that you had such...needs, then I would have damned the work to hell.”

Suddenly, you wished you were the most selfish person in the world.

“Every wish, your every want…” his eyes promised the world. “It is mine to bring it to you.

“So tell me, angel.” His fingers lingered on your face. “What do you want?”

Alas, that fated question.

What you wanted was to tell him without doubt that you wished for his fingers inside you again. What you wanted was your husband fulfilling his promises, showing you more, more, more until you forgot your name from the sheer force.

You hated how your speech could never voice it out loud with confidence.

The man noticed your face warming beneath his touch as you stammered, “I-I want—” pausing from his fingers on your cheek, “Hyunjin, I want you to…” 

Your pathetic attempts had him chuckling. “So innocent to me still?” He asked softly. “Even when I caught you moaning my name like a whore in the night?”

Whore. Sane you would have slapped him for saying such a thing, but the arousal that pooled at the term meant completely different. He was aware of your reaction, causing him to be compliant. 

One day, he would voice it out of you. One day, you would say from your own mouth that you wished for ruination.

“How about this, ____?” he started. He brushed a small kiss upon your forehead, heart fluttering at the chaste action. “When you want me to stop, voice that out instead.” The next kiss was upon the tip of your nose. 

You thought up a worrying confession, but when you saw his expression change, you realised you blurted it out.

“I don’t think I would want you to stop, Hyunjin.”

The molten lust in his eyes nearly undid you then and there. He offered you a low, satisfied growl, wondering how in God he could ever resist you.

“I don’t think I would be able to, angel.”

He did not say any more, swooping down and enveloping your lips with his.

You instantly accepted him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer, closing your eyes and letting him paint an artwork of desire upon your mouth. You could tell he was trying to be gentle, but your confession cracked the glasshouse of desire he had tended for so long. 

His tongue was inside your mouth at once, and you relished its desperation, letting it explore all of you as his hands wandered down, your own sliding into his locks. Softer than all the silks in the land, you already felt the moans bubble within your throat, partially escaping with every parting. His heavy breathing in your ears only wished for all distance to fade.

There was so much of him, all at once — you had shared kisses with him after that fated night, but you knew those kisses were the sole form of affection he could offer in those lonely weeks. The way he bit your bottom lip, soft and then a little harder, had you losing all sense.

It was such things that made you realise how much you missed his presence.

Tearing away from your lips, he gave fevered attention to your neck, trailing his kisses down your skin, open and wet and restless. “Hyunjin—” you began, but then you gritted your teeth at the pain of his suction upon your throat. His hands pushed you further into the shelves, and a few books began to fall at the force. 

“H-Hyunjin!” you exclaimed, eyes darting frantically to the classic editions that scattered on the floor. “W-wait, not here!” 

The man blinked in his haze of desire, looking at you. “Huh?” he got out, spit-slick lips parted, his whole body raising from his breaths. “Why not?”

“The-the books, they...!” you tried to explain, but with the stare he offered, you quietened within moments. “...Hyunjin?”

His answer was his hand taking your wrist and turning from the secluded corner. He steered you out of the hiding place, pace hurried with each step he took. Head whirling to every aisle, he cursed under his breath, finding the spaces between the shelves filled only with books. 

“What are you...searching for?!” you demanded in bated breaths, but then he let out a satisfied noise as he found an open aisle, the first line of shelves in the library. 

In front of those shelves sat a large, wooden step ladder — no doubt there to grab onto the higher sectioned novels. A knowing smirk enveloped his features as he led you to where it stood, backing you against it.

A small yelp escaped you as the man hoisted you upon the steps, you holding onto his shoulders as he slithered his arms around your waist. “There,” he said, tilting his head slightly upwards. “Now you shan’t worry about your novels falling.”

“Easy for you to say!” you crowed, already feeling unstable, despite sitting on the sixth step. “This time it might be me falling!”

“Well then,” he began, tugging your legs apart till he fit snug between them, “You just have to hold on tight, don’t you?”

Oh, you were going to kill him.

Leaning forward, he halted your breath, brushing his lips across your neck. “I can stop if you wish,” he whispered on your skin. His hand rested over your chest, where it rose unevenly under his palm. When you did not answer he looked up, climbing so he levelled with your face. 

You felt his heavy breathing fan your lips. “Do you want me to stop, angel?”

His eyes saw right through you — with the way a malicious smile began playing at his lips, he knew his answer long before you registered it yourself.

Head shaking hurriedly, you murmured out your response as you grabbed onto the lapels of his longcoat. 

“Never.” 

You pulled him down, desire taking control of your senses as he undid you with his lips. His hands, sliding down, hitching your skirts higher than before, bunching it at your waist. Never giving himself a break on your mouth, he peeled off his coat, tossing it beside the ladder. Only when you broke away to take a panted breath did he begin his descent — kisses on your neck dragged down further, along your clothed abdomen until he parted, shuffling the fabric from between your thighs.

An uneasy fuck flew from his mouth — your glistening cunt welcomed him again, the recollections of the last honeymoon night crashing back. 

In truth, the events had not left his mind. The memories of his fingers playing with you, inciting those sinful sounds were the few things which brought him a high in the dark days of work. You, drenched by his efforts, dripping for him, and only him, to take care of you.

Seeing the sight before had Hyunjin restraining his cock. Fuck, he thought, leaning closer till his face was a mere inch from the center. He did not comprehend the consequences of this; what if he went crazy? A part of him was distinctly aware that if you were heavenly around his fingers, then you with his tongue would transcend reality.

Hands holding the back of your knees, he slung your legs over his shoulders, securing his fingers upon your thighs. With one last inhale, he closed the distance.

Nothing compared to his tongue running along your slit.

A hiss left you at the contact, tendrils of pleasure curling up your spine as he explored the edges of your cunt. He was teasing, being too leisured for your liking — he could not help himself, fearing he would rush the process and end it too quickly.

He wanted to be inside you the entire night.

Your incessant whining had him lapping up the wetness, gripping onto your legs a little harder as he delved in further, tasting your arousal and letting out a satisfied noise. Leaning your head back against the higher steps, your hands carded through his hair, his locks a comfort for the slow torment below.

When his tongue dove upwards, circling your clit, an obscenely loud moan tumbled out of you. He was so exceptional, so good at what he did to you, licking away at the bud as if he had not been served for days. Your whining was more encouragement for his antics, increasing his strokes with a slight curve to his lips. 

What reduced you to choked gasps was an old prospect from the first night — his digits, leaving one of their spots on your leg and slipping one inside your folds. As if his tongue was not enough, that singular finger created a rhythmic pattern of plunging in and out of you. 

You thrashed under his grip, hips rolling giddily along with his work. Even the ladder began to shudder, jutting slightly back and forth from your desperation. Although the squeeze on your thigh was an indication to calm down, you ignored it, too intoxicated by the thrusts of his tongue to realise his signal. 

He made you realise as he paused his ministrations entirely. You nearly shrieked at the lack of his presence, but then you looked down, and found his lust-hazed eyes staring at you. 

“H-Hyunjin?” You mumbled, voice raspy from your previous moaning. 

The slick glazed on his lips brought you another level of high. “I need you to stay still, darling,” he voiced, slender hand gripping onto your thigh. “You even have the poor ladder shaking.”

You willingly nodded your head, knowing you were lying through your teeth. If he continued with his tongue prodding at your clit, then you would start trembling from the thrill. 

“I don’t think I believe you,” he mused, blowing on your drenched cunt. Seeing you shiver had him chuckling. ”I need you to be still if you want true pleasure, sweetheart.”

An ironically chaste kiss upon the edges of your thigh gave you more reason to grip him harder. “I want you to enjoy this as much as I am.” 

As much as I am.

Good, sweet Lord.

Maybe you will never move an inch again.

“K-keep going,” you whispered, near frantic as you played with his locks. “Please.”

The please at the end was exactly what he needed before he pounced into you again. 

His tongue was relentless — a second finger joined in the venture, and the fullness of him was back again, with an intensity that only promised satisfaction. You knew it was coming, with the heaviness in your lower abdomen. 

You needed that release. Whatever it took, it was the only image in your mind, taunting you of the relief that came with it. With the hard grip of his locks, your husband sensed it straight away, quickening his pace with both his tongue and digits. 

Damn Hwang Hyunjin to Hell, for he was so unfairly good to you — licking your clit to a frenzy, touching a certain spot inside you, over and over again. He never missed, never faltered his labour as the burden inside you intensified. You sang his praise in your stained mind, hoping he could see the joy on your face.

“Hyunjin—!” You whined out, stealing a glance at his head, moving back and forth slightly between your legs. “It’s—the feeling, the one before—!”

You did not have to say anything else; his free hand, wrapping fully around your slung over leg, made you realise of his awareness. The feeling was at its peak then — one more of his stripe along your cunt, and it was over.

Fortunately for you, the Duke of Hastings kept his promises. 

One little nibble of your bud, plunging in his two fingers at the same time, and it was useless. Your release came rushing through, cries escaping your lips as you undid yourself onto his mouth. All sense of surroundings abandoned you: you were drifting away, like a kite losing its roots, further and further as his fingers slowed. You feared that you would lose all sense until his tongue lapped up the release. His hums of satisfaction anchored you back into the library, hands at your hips as he heaved upwards, watching over your dazed expression. 

You saw his every move, licking the remnants of your release off on his face. He then hovered closer, locks more sweat slick as they caressed your skin. 

“God, angel,” he rasped out, holding your chin with his stained fingers. “You…I can’t...I can’t get enough of you.”

He stole a kiss upon your mouth, but your shy whines caused him to go deeper, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip. “Shit,” he whispered as he parted from your lips. “You must stop me, ____. I cannot take you all at once, I…no matter how much I wish, I cannot...fuck, I cannot taint you.”

And maybe it was your husband, admiring you like a poet would his muse. Maybe it was something more than the dull ache inside you, the flutter moving to your heart which had you saying the next words. 

“But I...” you paused, every panted breath heavy. “I never…never asked you to stop.”

Hyunjin stilled completely before you. 

His eyes were too much, but you did not stop the confession pouring out. “If...if there is something more, I…” his thumb on your chin hardened.

“I want to know. I want to see it all...even if it may taint me.”

There it was. 

The thoughts which haunted you for the past few weeks. You wanted more, even if that meant that this more would one day be satiated. You wanted to see the end, the final stage, because you knew deep down, your best friend was still holding back from you.

You saw it in his eyes. You saw his unadulterated desires, dark and fearful, yet you wanted to be surrounded by his darkness. 

You wanted Hwang Hyunjin to break you like he wished.

Sure enough, he saw it all over your face too. His jaw turned slack, and he debated slamming his head against the shelves to make sure he was not dreaming.

He did not think his wife would let him have a moment’s peace. 

“God help you, sweet angel,” he murmured, glancing at your dress — more specifically, how to get you out of it. “I don’t think I can leave you innocent any longer.”

You parted your mouth to speak — Hyunjin was about to interrupt you, perhaps take you to the final stage of your passions.

Everything was about to descend when you heard the shrill knock on the door.

Your heart jumped out of your dress, the man above you catching onto your shock. With an unexpected burst of anger, he turned his head towards the large doors and screamed, “Who the fuck is it?!”

The servant at the opposite side flinched at the tone of voice. “Um, there is a guest in the living room, Your Grace!”

That did not help his case. “Then tell them to piss off!” The Duke demanded, holding onto you a little harder.

“But Your Grace, he urgently requests your presence!” The boy insisted. “We tried telling him of your...distractions, but he would not listen!”

Hyunjin looked like he was about to tear the manor down with his orders, and you widened your eyes, holding onto him. “It’s alright,” you reassured him, and possibly reassuring yourself too.

He glanced at you, and the frenzied stare he pinned you with shut you right up. “Fuck,” he cursed, running an angered hand through his hair, the other not leaving your side — as if you would fade from his grasp. 

You feared it too, in truth, that he would disappear. The thought plagued your senses, much more than you would have liked.

“To hell with that bloody guest,” he growled, leaning into you again. He pressed his forehead against yours, cupping your face with his hands. “To hell with everyone.”

“Hyunjin,” you breathed out, relishing the contact. “Hyunjin, it’s okay…” you held his agitated stare, wondering why you were convincing him to go when you wanted him to stay. “I will be here, you know...when you come back.”

He searched your gaze for confirmation, needing to affirm your words. When he found the suppressed desire within, he could not help himself. 

He planted his mouth upon yours, finding solace along the lines of your lips — he loved how your every kiss was a comfort, a sweet little sin all for him to enjoy. In honesty, he could spend an eternity basked in your warmth, but alas, reality was a villain in his tale.

Forcing himself to pull away, he ran a tender thumb along your cheek. “I shan’t take long, angel.”

You nodded tiredly, in time to the man holding your waist as he settled you back onto the carpet. Lingering for a few moments, he made himself leave your side, grabbing his coat and donning the heavy fabric. He satiated his desires with a glance towards you, dazed off with your hands clinging the ladder railing still. 

A small smile catching onto his lips, he turned on his heel, promising murder to whoever disturbed the moment he dreamed of. Opening the door, he looked back, catching your stare. 

The smile upon his face grew wider. A smile so sincere, so loving, with all the world’s miracles nestled upon his pretty mouth. It was a smile that you had never seen before, with all your years beside him — seeing it now had you wishing you could bottle the image and carry it with you forever.

It was a smile which had you so in love with him.

Love.

It was then your heart dropped. 

Hyunjin, unaware, closed the door behind him, leaving you to your revelation.

Instantly, you clutched at your chest, heartbeat racing. 

In love.

You were in...in love with Hwang Hyunjin.

“No,” you slipped out, mind rushing a mile a minute. “No, no, no, no—”

You gripped the railing harder as the hand on your heart trailed down, shivering from the phantom touches of your husband.

Hell, of the husband that you had fallen for. 

One would think love was an entity writers would idolise — your own inspirations searched and indulged in all kinds of love, but you always accepted that an emotion so intense was not for women like you. Love was a rarity. Love was unconditional, strong and vivid and all-consuming. 

Love, undoubtedly, was a weakness.

Your breathing turned ragged, hands reaching to clasp your head in panic. 

I will be here...when you come back.

Your promise to him, before he left you to your hysteria.

Why would you ever say such a thing to him?

“Oh, no,” you kept chanting, turning over to your side, away from the door and towards the window, where night was small comfort to your nerves. 

You could not let yourself succumb to a man. No matter how dear he was to you.

And if that meant staying away from your husband, then so be it.

 IT WAS UTTER AGONY AVOIDING YOUR BEST FRIEND IN EVERY PASSING MOMENT. 

Perhaps you should have given reasonable explanation to why you decided to distance yourself, but of course, reasonable explanation was never your forte. 

Hyunjin, damn him, tried to make more effort in returning home earlier, despite his business demanding his presence with every passing day. You were almost powerless under his tender gaze, but you knew that you could not be swayed.

As if you had not fallen under his spell already.

Your only distraction was your novel, so you did just that — even with your husband in the manor, you closed yourself from everyone, writing furiously on your desk as if committing to anything else would cost your life. The flushed skin did not shy away as you wrote of your second experience, changing the events slightly so they fit your story. The memories tried to torture your mind, but you refused to submit. You could not fall for Hyunjin.

You could not fall for a man.

The duke did not realise of your avoidances, simply thinking that you evading his more heated kisses, his dangerous touches, was a result of your fatigue. He understood, knowing you worked your brain as hard as he. He was upset, obviously, when he craved your touch every waking second. For you, though, he would do anything. If that meant waiting, he would do that too.

However, your recoiling could only last so long. Your best friend knew you like the back of his hand.

He figured something was amiss when he decided to grace you with his presence one evening, expecting another show of your moans behind the door, only to have the distant scribbling of ink against paper. Entering inside, he awaited your surprise, your unadulterated joy, bracing himself to have his arms engulfed with your hug.

In reality, he received a mumble of blessing, and the continuing scribbling.

He was not trying to coax you into giving him affection. He was well aware of how hard you worked on your novel, but that day, he dearly wished you would abandon your project for just a night. Just one, single night, so he could show you how much he missed you every single moment.

Poor, unfortunate man. How was he to know that your affection was the one thing you could not give him?

Another few days into the silence, and Hyunjin had had enough.

He called to you one dinner, ushering the servants away with the flick of his hand. The dining room became all the more huge, like a lush vault, perfect for a sweet interrogation as the velvet curtains drew to a close, and the eyes of a hundred paintings focused on you. You swirled the soup with your spoon, refusing to look at him. 

“Darling?”

Damn him and his endearments. “Hmm?”

The man, too, seemed to be unsure of how to talk of the subject. “Is…” he put his cutlery on the table. “Is everything...alright as of late?”

Your gaze remained rooted to your food. “Of course,” you said. “Why would I not be?”

There was a heavy silence in the room, new and uncertain between the two of you. Your friendship with the duke had never been filled with such quiet — why were you creating such awkwardness around him?

You already knew the answer.

“Do counter me if I speak incorrectly,” he began, grabbing the stem of the wine glass. “But I have noticed you to be quite...secluded.”

“I am busy, Hyunjin,” you said curtly. “I have a whole novel to edit.”

His lips twitched downwards before opening his mouth, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a small sip. “I know you do, and you know I am proud of you for it.”

Choosing to not say anything, you tried finishing off your dinner, aware that you were losing your appetite. It seemed your husband did not want to back down tonight. “____, I feel as if you are hiding something from me.”

The spoon in your hand nearly clattered in the bowl. “And why would you think that?”

“Because—!” Hyunjin paused, downing some more wine. “I do not know, but I feel as if you do not want to speak to me.”

He was too smart for his own good. “You are imagining things,” you waved him off, finding your salad fork oh so interesting in the candlelight.

“Look at me.”

His voice stopped you cold. 

Your gaze scrambled to meet his, and although his command was rough, his eyes exposed a completely different emotion. 

Pure concern washed over his features as he muttered, “Have I done something wrong?”

That question broke your heart.

“No, no, of course not,” you quickly said. You bit your lip in guilt, watching him sigh, almost in relief.

This was the consequences of your actions. A man who had done nothing unjust, yet was being punished. Pure shame coursed through your veins, catching the distress on his face, and you wondered whether you were being cruel. Maybe this time, your feelings were exaggerated.

If you were aware of such truths, then why could you not look your best friend in the eye?

That night, you hurried to bed, leaning on the edge in wait for him. Your thoughts were in disarray; your heart impatiently desired his return, and your brain berated you for daring to. 

Truthfully, it was horrifying how you had become so dependent on someone, when your entire life you relied on the fantasies in your head. Although your revelation was every lady’s dream in society, you felt as if another burden had been dumped upon your shoulders. This time, though, this burden would last for the rest of your life.

These thoughts were your singular company, when you lay awake all night. You were acutely aware of Hyunjin slipping between the sheets, but you did not move a muscle. A small part of you knew that if you turned, you would be unable to resist his whimsical gaze and wandering touches.

So you lay rigid, only letting yourself sleep till your best friend submitted himself to oblivion.

He, too, could not bear to live like this.

The Duke of Hastings was not a fool. He had not known you for over a decade to discard you lying through your teeth. It was beyond his understanding the reasoning of your change, but it deeply disturbed his soul. 

He turned in the bed, watching your back bathed in moonlight. Why would you not tell him what bothered you? What had he done wrong?

As he watched you stay rooted in one position, his thinking turned to dark corners. A realisation struck him; you started acting this way the day after he nearly took you in the library.

This alarmed him greatly — was that why you were so troubled? Were you...uncomfortable with his touch?

His heart dropped down to his gut. 

If you truly detested his affection, then he would not know what to do with himself. Recently, it was all that haunted him — you, you, and a little more you, strolling through his mind as if it were your domain, creating stories underneath his eyes. It only worsened when he discovered your sweet moans, triggered by his kisses and touches. God, the very thought of you, whining his name as you touched yourself, brought him a familiar feeling amplified. So ardently he wished to taint you further. 

Even thinking of the images had him clutching his pillow tighter, fingers aching to turn you over. 

However, the harsh fact was that you could not bear to look at him, and he had to live with that. Questioning you was of no use. 

Hyunjin only prayed that he did not scare you off. 

Unfortunately for him, his prayers were not to be answered. 

Days passed, and the distance grew. The man dared not say a word to you in fear you would stray further, and you dared not approach him in fear you would fall harder. It was the most abhorrent situation, and you knew you had to get away somehow.

Fate spoiled your plans when Hyunjin revealed some news.

You looked at the invitation in slight horror. “A ball?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he explained further. “When we were...interrupted that day…” he sighed a little. “It was Seungmin who was downstairs.”

“Kim Seungmin? Has he returned from the States?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “And he has decided that the first thing he wishes to do is throw a huge ball in celebration of his return.” A roll of eyes followed. “Forever the dramatist.”

You restrained your laughter. “It has been over 2 years since we met,” you wondered out loud. 

“Well, you can meet him at his estate when we attend the ball.” 

He felt your eyes on him as he declared his words. Awaiting your outright rejection, settling down on the chair in the living room. You watched his thighs tense under the peach trousers as he folded a leg over the other — damn him for being too attractive to refuse.

“Very well,” you only said, not ignoring the nerves which threatened to take over. They increased a little at seeing the smile on your husband’s face.

You needed to stop leading the man on. Never could you go to the ball with him. 

“It is a week from now,” he added, bobbing his foot excitedly. “I shall write back in acceptance as soon as possible!”

Nodding, you returned to your reading, hoping the faux conversations were enough distraction.

A week. Seven days to somehow escape from this event, or else everyone would see you enter the ball as an official couple, and then your fate as another man’s property would be sealed.

Had he ever made you feel as such?

You did not let yourself ponder over this further. Your only objective was getting out of this invitation.

However, you were a duchess. Trying to hide yourself from London society was an unattainable feat. 

The reminder had you nearly ripping the page off your book, too stressed to read on.

This became your focus of the next week, pondering over the night of the ball, scouring your mind with the possibilities which may occur at Seungmin’s estate. As the days neared, Hyunjin insisted you go shopping in search of a special ball gown, and you only obliged so you did not have to be in the same house as him. Still, if he was not there physically, his image preyed upon you in the markets, constantly reminded of his opinions and likings in every fabric you ran your hands upon. 

There was no escaping him. You were disgustingly obsessed.

Purchasing everything you needed, you requested it to be charged on Hastings’ tab, a privilege awarded to you ever since your joining with the duke. You always argued that you wished to spend your own money, but he would not listen.

“But I adore spoiling you, angel,” he would merely say, and buy up half the boutique, leaving you a flustered mess. The conversations did not leave you as you bought your dresses and accessories, returning home and dreading interaction.

Excusing yourself, you shut yourself in your room once more, and wrote.

Wrote away your soul in the last days, till it was the morning of the fated event. The sun shone magnificently on your home, but failed to radiate its light on your darkened mood. You had no choice on the matter — you were to accompany Hyunjin to Seungmin’s celebrations, and that was final.

You were about to fake typhoid when a letter arrived for you.

It was from your mother; she wrote in question of your wellbeing, and how much she felt your absence in the house. The content was not very interesting, and you debated writing back with a lack of enthusiasm when you read the last section.

She mentioned tonight’s ball — more significantly, how she felt ever so lonely without you with her, “enlivening her spirits”. The praises were nothing further from the truth, but it was her confession which had an idea rushing to your head.

“Lonely without me, huh?” you murmured, as you rang a bell for a maid. Arriving, you requested for a little trunk, asking for your new dress and other adornments to be packed. “For once, Mama, you have been useful.”

The packing did not take much time, the other servants calling for a carriage as you made preparations to leave for a night. Hyunjin, making his presence known, descended down the stairs, a grin upon his face as his hand fished in his inner pockets. 

When he saw your endeavours, though, his beaming flickered. “What is going on here?” he asked, refusing to look away from your luggage.

You turned to him, mustering up the bravado to face him with your decision. 

“I received a letter from Mama this morning,” you explained to him in faux ease, gesturing for the servants to bring your belongings outside. “She is feeling rather lonesome, so I thought to see her.”

The man was not convinced in the slightest. “Since when did you garner sympathy for your mother?”

Never confide in your best friend again. “Please,” you stressed, holding the letters in your hands. “She still took care of me the best she could. Plus, I would never want to be lonely at that age.”

He was not listening to this explanation though, his hands going into his pockets. “When will you be back, darling?”

The endearment made this all the worse. “The morning after.”

A heavy pause instilled on the both of you before he broke it. “But...but the ball. A-are you to just...abandon the invitation altogether?”

“No!” you began, locking your hands behind your back. “No, I shall meet you at Seungmin’s estate. It is a small setback, but—”

“____, this will be our first social event as husband and wife!” he countered, you grimacing at his minor outburst. “I want you by my side when we walk down the steps!”

“But I will be there, Hyunjin!” you exclaimed. “I do not understand why you suddenly want to follow these silly traditions!”

Gritting his teeth, your friend pinned you with his stare, growing fiery the longer you held it. Traditions never interested him, but this one had been a certainty he had been looking forward to. The image of you, descending the stairs with your hand on his arm, brought him an absurd amount of joy.

But there you were, bursting his bubble of dreams.

“Why is this all coming to light today?” he muttered, taking a step towards you. “Why, on the day of the event, you decide to tell me that you would rather go with your mother, who never truly cared for you, than me?” 

Than me, who always did?

You dared not answer his question truthfully — instead, you let your undeserved anger take the reins of your tongue.

“So you are already suspicious!” you snapped. “Why am I not surprised in the slightest?”

His eyes narrowed at the statement. You did not look into it further as you turned on your heel, heading towards the door. “Do not run away from me, ____!” He shouted, following after you. “Tell me what you implied from that horrendous comment!”

“Oh, let me uncover it clearly for you, dearest,” you snarled, standing at the doorway. The words which were to leave your mouth had sure consequences, but in the moment, you did not care. All you wanted then was an escape.

“You accuse me of scheming and demand me things which I do not want to give you.” 

Your hand gripped the letter behind you. “You’re becoming the one thing I feared, Hyunjin. You’re turning into a typical male.”

The man froze entirely at your claims.

Did not utter a defense against him as you sighed out, glancing away from his shell-shocked eyes. You did not bid your farewells as you descended down the stairs, reigning in your temptation to look back as you made your way to your transport through the gardens. 

As you slipped inside the carriage, clasping your hands in your lap, you wondered whether you had taken a step too far. 

You wondered, with rising dread, whether you had broken your best friend’s heart. 

 MAYBE RUNNING TO YOUR MOTHER HAD NOT BEEN THE BEST OF IDEAS.

Biggest reason being that she was truly a pain in the rear. The moment your carriage had arrived on the rocky entryway of your mother’s manor, she rushed down the steps. After engulfing you with an embrace which might have caused a minor stroke, she hurried you inside, her servants bringing your possessions.

You did not particularly miss your previous abode, although it gave you small relief. You passed the familiar hallways, and settled in the nostalgic parlour room where your mother gushed over your presence.

Still, this manor did not seem like home to you.

Conversation was mostly struck from your opposite, you nearly silent as the woman vented out her frustrations of every family in London, drinking her tea and urging you to take a biscuit or two. Your stomach was void of an appetite, missing other emotions which you abandoned on the other side of the city.

By the time evening arrived, all you wished to do was hide yourself into your old room, but your mother would not accept. Having the maids open your trunk, they brought out the ball gown you had picked for the occasion.

It was a dark, seductive red, swell of its puffs cuffed with black lace — this lace scattered over the fabric, lining not only the neckline but down the chest, rose-like stitches etched onto the bust. The high-waistline also bled further black stitching, almost all over the gown as it fell to the floor, with a midnight ribbon trailing at the back.

You bit back a fevered sigh. Hyunjin would have adored this gown.

The thought had you pursing your lips, requesting the gown be pressed. Then, walking over to the dressing table, you settled yourself onto the seat, using the accessories bought previously to style yourself. With the assistance of a few maids, you managed to accentuate your hair, adding small pearls within the locks.

The ballgown came back in an instant, and you undressed yourself, waving away the girls in your room. Firstly, you slipped on a thin chemise — then, you allowed a maid to enter to help with the corset, who tightened it at the back without mercy to your body. Barely able to breathe, you loosened it slightly after the girl left, focusing your attention on the gown. After adorning the petticoats and white stockings, you adorned your attire, slowly as to not crease its fabric. Hooking the back yourself, you turned to the mirror, holding the black gloves.

There was no doubt about this countenance — it was exactly to your husband’s taste. Clamping your lips together, you donned the gloves, the silk smooth beneath your touch as you filled them to the fingertips. With one final peek at yourself, you slipped into your shoes, and left the bedroom. 

You were a fool to think of any other person but your mother welcoming you at the entrance, but wishful thinking had always been your flaw. Her string of compliments had you adorning a ghost of a smile, but you did not say much as you both climbed into the carriage, instructing to journey to Seungmin’s estate.

Without a novel to distract you, you fell into a habit of clasping and unclasping your hands as you sat, waiting for the ride to be over. Your mother was small comfort as she filled the silence for you, but even her voice strained your mood — you wished for other discourse, or other meaningless entertainment.

You ached for laughter.

Whatever. This was your consequence. You must bear with it.

If your mother knew of your troubles, she certainly did not voice them out loud. She did ask of your relationship with Hyunjin, but you waved her off with false reassurances — you could not have her prying into your private life.

“I hope he has burned off your silly writing fancy!” she drawled, catching the lights of the destination flickering closer to our transport. “As a wife you have much more important duties.”

Gazing afar through the window, you spoke your truth. “Actually, Mama, he encourages it.” A small chuckle escaped you. “I think he wants me to be an author more than I do.”

“Oh?” The woman brought a hand to her chin, impressed. “That is a rare occurrence indeed.”

Catching your raised brow, she scoffed. “Do not gawk as if you are not aware of men. I am shocked he has given you freedom.”

You listened to her, watching the estate linger closer. “Child, you have found a man who does not restrict you in your passions. I do not know how you accomplished such a feat, but you must be extremely thankful.” A glance was stolen towards her. “Such husbands only exist in those books you love so much.”

Before you could comment on her statement, the carriage slowed to a stop, reaching the final stop. The footmen opened the doors, and your mother stepped out first before you followed, careful not to ruin your dress on the pathway. 

The crowds had you leading inside the estate, luxury which could compete with the Duke of Hastings being exulted in every corner of the interior. Dozens of lords, ladies and other aristocrats wandered in all places of the house, your own mother being swept away by her friends in her social circle. Your presence felt less relevant with each passing second, fearing you would lose yourself in the rush of golden curtains, rose perfume and unwelcome conversation.

You thought that this ball would grant solitude, but then you heard the bright drawl of a familiar lord. 

“By God, is that my dear bookworm I see before me?”

Jumping from the voice, you whirled on your heel. A surprised smile caught on your face.

“Seungmin?”

The said-man returned your shock with a mischievous grin. Lord Kim Seungmin changed greatly since the last time you saw him — what was once thinned, pale cheekbones were now full and golden, amplifying his eye-smile, which he did not lose in the Americas. He was adorned in navy blue, contrasting with his off-coloured pants, black hair styled effortlessly away from his forehead.

“My goodness!” he began, strolling over to you with his mahogany cane. “Even after two years you upkeep your radiance.”

“You flatter me,” you said as your smile widened. “You certainly have changed. I adore the tan!”

“I fear you are the sole admirer,” he confided, narrowing his gaze at his incoming guests. “As if I wish to look like a ghost among men!”

“You have earned my approval, at least,” you complimented in earnest. “Not that it would matter much.”

Seungmin scoffed at your comment. “Says one of the most affluent women in the country! When were you going to tell me you were Hyunjin’s bride?”

Your irritation sparked as your heartbeat raced. “It was very recent, I admit. I would have sent word, but it would not have reached you.”

“I daresay I am not surprised.” 

You peered at him, then. “No?”

He gave you an incredulous look. “My dear, everyone anticipated the occasion. Only you were clueless to the possibility.”

Gritting your teeth, you jabbed him with your hand, causing him to chuckle. “Ow! I was hoping you would mature by this time! No doubt your duke encourages this!”

Preferring to stay silent on the matter, Seungmin continued on the subject, making it difficult. “Where is he, by the way? Gossip tells me it is your first ball as a couple.”

“Is he not here?” A shake of his head had your nerves creeping back. “Oh, um, my mother was alone, so I thought to accompany her instead.”

You nearly grimaced at his callous features. “How bizarre,” he murmured. He then offered you his arm. “If so, then allow me to accompany you in his absence.”

Accepting his arm, he helped you navigate your ways through the huge foyer, the grand stairs welcoming you two as dozens upon dozens of aristocrats came into view — the host nodded his head in greeting at every passerby, leading you down each step, until your feet landed on the floor of the ballroom. 

Examining the area, you marvelled at the pastels colouring each wall, corner and crevice of the vast space in the room. Sweet music filled the air, and murmurs of many ladies and gentlemen resonated everywhere around you, growing louder as their eyes rested on you, your sensual attire, and the lack of husband on your arm.

“How about a dance, Duchess?” Seungmin asked you as he brought you closer to the center. 

Instantly you shook your head, stopping in your tracks. “No,” you refused, tugging on his arm. “I have no wish for dancing this evening.”

“As if you ever have,” he mused, earning your glare. “I presume you await for your beau? Everyone knows you dance first with him.”

A sharp breath exhaled from your nose. “Nevermind that, just take me where the cakes are.”

Laughter spilled from his lips, stirring you to the refreshments. “As you wish, ____.”

Making your way through the guests, you finally ended up where the food resided, tables lined from one corner of the room to the other, flanked in every type of nourishment. Your gaze found stands of cakes, and you left your hand on your friend’s arm, raised towards the deserts. As soon as a servant handed you a plate, the chocolate cake was in your hold.

“Honestly,” the host started, as you cut a piece with a fork, digging straight in. “And they call you the pinnacle of grace!”

“Who in heaven said that?” you asked, baffled as you ate another small piece. Seungmin, snapping his fingers, brought a tray of champagne over to you. Picking up two flutes, you began, “For me?”

Downing the first, he offered you a grin. “What made you think that?” he replied, already sipping the second. “My party, my alcohol.”

This time you giggled at his demeanour, he handing you a drink as you finished your cake. The bubbly goodness was welcomed, warming you up and calming your senses. 

After the third glass, the champagne-induced man let out a huge sigh. “Right!” he exclaimed, propping the glasses on the table beside you. “I must find myself a pretty lady to dance with.”

“Do try to stay on your feet, Seungmin,” you said, raising your flute in toast. 

“No promises!” he merely countered, disappearing into the crowd.  

Your smile faded at the isolation which hit.

There you were — hundreds of people surrounding you, many potential partners to dance with, yet there you were, hand not in another hand but wrapped around your alcohol. 

You could not blame a single soul. This was all your doing.

That had you consuming the champagne to the last drop. 

At least there was some form of relief in this ball, as you watched Seungmin and about a dozen couples form a circle at the center of the room. With the first opening of the music the host led his partner, all the others following suit. 

Watching the waltz had you remembering the last dance, the fateful night where this union came into fruition. Your friend’s smile, his hand on another’s waist, all these images reflected the very same you experienced many weeks before.

You bit the inside of your cheek, reminiscing deeper and deeper. You hated how every fibre of your body ached for his presence. The worst part was that it was not mere lust, or the carnal desire which erupted at his thought.

You longed for him — his banter, his mischievous eyes, and his rather heart-wrenching smile.

The music heightened, the climax of the dance falling on the ball room as Seungmin whirled and whirled his partner, a string of giggles faintly heard from the crowd. When he twirled her one last time, he caught her instantly, at perfect harmony with the ending of the sweet melody.

Applause scattered across the hall as the couples bowed to each other.

A curse escaped you then. 

There was simply no doubt of your feelings — avoiding him could never be the solution. 

This revelation may have arrived at the perfect time.

Because, as the music played once more, a figure emerged at the entrance. 

The murmurs, one by one like a slow wave, died down as they caught sight of him, gazes shocked.

Sipping your champagne, quite puzzled, you turned to the origins for this change of atmosphere. 

Every atom in your body stilled. 

Froze completely at the sight which stood at the foot of the steps. 

You were unable to suppress his name.

“Hyunjin.”

It was as if, by a miracle, he heard your shivered whisper — his eyes skimmed the crowd, frantic beneath the calm.

They found you in the chaos.

Your very breath disappeared from your lungs.

Hwang Hyunjin looked like the devil’s greatest fantasy; as if he stole the night and imprisoned it in his attire. He was adorned in lustrous black, waistcoat patterned with red swirls of velvet. His collar was slightly ruffled, cravat of midnight as it barely brushed against his chin. His tailcoat somewhat glistened in the chandelier light, dark leather boots still as he stood before the hall.

His greatest change was his hair. Once golden like the lights of heaven, it was now as black as the underworld. Half of the locks were swept up in a ponytail, the rest curling at his shoulders. 

The flute nearly dropped from your hands. 

Seungmin, finding his friend on the steps, burst into a smile. “Hastings!” he broke through the silence with enthusiasm. With his voice the crowd fell into frenzied discourse, the host making his way through his guests, strolling towards the new arrival. “By God, it has been too long!”

Hyunjin hummed, not particularly interested in what he had to say. His gaze from you did not stray for a heartbeat. Seungmin, catching on, wrapped a hand around his friend’s shoulder. “I see you only came for one person,” he said, leading him to where you stood. 

Champagne was not the only substance which heated you further, cheeks growing warmer the closer he walked over to you. Every move he emitted exuded sensuality, as if his bones were made of silk. 

You let yourself to a third serving when he stopped before you, Seungmin clapping his hands together in excitement. “Look at the two of you!” he proclaimed. “Your clothes match so perfectly!”

Sure enough, both of you adorned the same hues of dark reds and raven blacks. You felt his eyes rake over you, and you restrained to not do the same, lest you let more than your stare wander. “I always knew you two were right for each other,” your friend continued, grabbing his fourth flute, drinking away in glee. “I am overjoyed to see that you both see it.”

Something cold swirled in your husband’s stare, and you ran a finger along the empty glass, embarrassed to hear such genuinity. “Hyunjin, the second waltz is about to start.” He gestured his flute towards you. “I know you always dance with each other first.”

The duke’s eyes flickered to the host for a mere second before pinning on you again. “I have no desire for dancing tonight.”

You had trouble downing your drink. “How strange...” Seungmin noted, darting between the couple. “Your wife here said the same thing not an hour ago.”

“Did she now?”

The silence that followed was quite unbearable. Even your friend was unimpressed, offering Hyunjin a drink from the waiters nearby. “Oh, you both are such bores! Maybe marriage is not the solution after all.”

You dared not look at him then, fiddling with your black ribbon. “I need to get drunk!” the host declared, tutting his head at the tension created. “I will come again when you two stop being so bloody shy.”

Shy would not be the most accurate term, but Seungmin was too intoxicated to care. He strolled to compliment a gathering of ladies within your radius, which left you with the one man you feared to be alone with.

Hwang Hyunjin. 

Hwang Hyunjin, in his changed, midnight glory, watching you with an indecipherable intensity. Creating the wildest butterflies ever felt inside your body. 

You did not know where to start. 

The man did not understand where to begin either, tongue at loss for words. There were too many words to spill, too many feelings left constricted.

He wished to say something, but his senses had failed him. So, much like you, he stayed silent, wondering if the two of you would ever break this barrier.

Even then, he could not help but linger closer, leaning against the lush walls of the room, right beside you. His presence was a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Tailcoat brushing against your skirts, he examined the ballroom along with you, itching to reach for your hand. He would never really, but in that moment, you were beyond tempting. 

You see, he had no idea what you would wear tonight, and after the spat at Lansdowne, he yearned for change — hence the raven hair and darkened clothing, so unlike his usual pastel attire. He did not even think that you would attend the ball in fear of his presence, but seeing you before him, engulfed in his favourite colours…

He would have damned society and taken you in this very hall. 

Daringly, he let himself wonder whether you felt the same — he heard your shocked murmur when he arrived, and the further shocked stare which made him ever so smug. If only you would let him do something about it.

If only you would let him ease this tension before it spiralled out of control.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as Seungmin came stumbling back, alcohol, swishing back and forth in his new glass as he giggled at his guests. “Dear friends!” he broke out, hands raised, some of the drink accidentally slipping out. “Oh, forgive me, gentlemen!”

You heard Hyunjin sigh beside you as he held his own hands out to steady his friend. “Steady now, man!” he warned. The drunkard only chortled, foot stepping onto your dress.

“You should not have drank so much!” you scolded, raising your skirts. Glimpses of your stockings came into display, and Seungmin shrieked.

“Careful duchesh!” he slurred excitedly, leaning right into you and wiggling the glass as if it were a finger. Unfortunately, he had little control over how hard he shook his alcohol, and it all spilled over. 

Right onto your white stockings.

Yelping, you saw the middle part stain in pinkish-red, murking the material with every drop landing. “Seungmin!” you yelled in agitation. 

“Oh bollocksh!” he cursed, causing a few gasps around the hearing radius. “I apologishe, dear, so very very much—”

Hyunjin, witnessing the scene, stopped a nearby servant. “Please tend to your master, here,” he ordered, pointing towards Seungmin begging for your forgiveness. Nodding, the boy took the host away, the latter hiccuping as he asked for more wine. “And do not give him any more to drink!” the duke added.

Focusing on you, he rushed over, assessing the mess made. “Damn fool has spilled quite a bit.” Whirling his head to any exits, he spotted a dark hallway, remembering the route of the estate. “Come with me.”

You glanced at him, frantic. “Where to?”

He did not answer fully as he wrapped a hand around your waist, almost making you forget that you had wine spilled over you. “Seungmin has many spare rooms,” he explained, leading you out of the ballroom. Thankfully, the crowd was too occupied in preparing for the second waltz to care for the distressed couple. 

Keeping your skirts raised, you managed to keep your gown safe from spillage as Hyunjin led you down the less crowded hallways, depictions of the Kim family painted on the walls. “Ah!” He got out, reaching to a familiar room as he opened it, ushering you inside. “This is where I usually reside whenever I stay at the estate.”

The room was basked in dark, velvety colours, perfect for the man next to you. Lush carpet underneath, the huge bed, nestled at the wall at your right had its curtains drawn, revealing glistening indigo sheets, matching the framing of the bedroom. Dressing tables, wardrobes and the like were furnished at each corner, your focus drifting back to the dweller. 

There was barely any light, save for the oil lamp sparked to life by his match. Setting it to the side of the bed, it brought much more life to the room, previously engulfed in mystery. 

Without the upheaval, the space was basked in silence. You realised the hand on your back was sorely missed, and Hyunjin, standing a few feet away, clenched and unclenched that very hand, yearning for his fingers upon you once more.

But the two of you kept playing that little game of keeping quiet. Sooner or later, one of you will have enough of this sickening ploy. 

Groaning, you walked over to the edge of the bed, kicking your heels off as you saw your stockings, fully stained. “Damn it,” you muttered, promising Seungmin murder. 

Another few minutes of your grumbling, and he had had enough. 

“Maybe I can be of assistance.” 

Perking up, you found Hyunjin, walking slowly to you, hands fumbling in his coat pockets. After a few seconds of rummaging, he brought out a package, tied with red string. 

You raised a brow. “What is this?” 

“Open it,” he merely said, taking a step closer as he held it before you.

Hesitantly accepting, you tugged on the end of the bow, unraveling the tie. You did not forget the stare which rested on you the entire time you opened the wrappings. 

When the paper unfurled, you examined the contents.

Before you were a folded pair of black stockings.

A soft exhale escaped as you beheld the present, the midnight silk soft to the touch, already aware of its rich feel. You delved in further, and uncovered white ribbons at the top, for tightening their grip. 

“How…” you trailed off, dumbfounded at the coincidence. “How did you…?”

“No, no, this was…” he locked his hands behind his back. “Something I was supposed to give you this morning.”

“Oh.” This morning. When you two had that particularly nasty fight. “I see.”

You glanced down at the present again. Hyunjin had proven, once again, how refined his taste was. “I have never seen such exceptional detail on stockings before.” Discarding the paper at your feet, you ran your thumb across the material. “I doubt this suits me at all.”

There was a pause at that. 

You knew there was something he wanted to say. The way his jaw ticked, the boot lightly tapping on the floor — he was bursting to add a comment which may be a risk, considering the circumstance of your relations. 

Allowing yourself to be the first to dare, you peered up at him. The curiosity, explicit in your eyes, had him clearing his throat.

His hesitancy faded. “Show me, then.”

Catching the ferocity in his stare, you swallowed, hand at your skirts. “If…if you wish.”

And that was all he needed to begin.

You watched as the man descended on his knees, lingering upon you until he looked down, revealing your white-clad legs the further you raised your gown. You stopped before the ends, holding onto your skirts and petticoats as if your life depended on it.

Hyunjin’s gaze did not waver as his hand raised forward, finding themselves upon the bow at the top of the stockings as the other gently held your ankle. Untying the ribbon, he hooked his fingers under the tight fabric, your skin brushing against his knuckles. Slowly, he pulled down the stocking, uncovering your skin before him under the dim lamp light. When it bunched up, his hand at your ankle stretched the ends of fabric, sliding the stocking right off. 

Discarding it behind him, he repeated the unveiling on the other leg. He noticed your skin heating underneath his touch, and he dared not expose his growing delight. 

Once the other half slid off, joining its partner, a hand raised in front of you. You stared at him in dazed confusion, and his fingers curled, save for the pointer directed at your present. 

“The stockings, darling.”

The endearment had you falling short — his caresses on your shin brought you back to consciousness, your hand beyond your control as it handed the gift to him. Taking it, he put one of them beside him, bunching the other with his hands till he directed the entrance to your foot on his lap.

Slipping them on, he worked his way upon your heel; his hands were slow, fingers softer than the silk beginning to cover your leg. Every fleeting touch had small shockwaves coursing up your body, as if it was the first time he laid his hands on you. How were you so unaccustomed to his caresses still?

Maybe because he knew how to agonise you. 

When reaching above your knee, he brought the ends of the stocking to your thigh. His fingers fell to the ribbon dangling from the underside and, with the utmost care, began to tie the two pieces together, forming a pretty red bow. 

As he closed the pattern, he tightened the bow, securing the fabric — snuffing out any possibility for the fabric to fall.

He then continued on the other leg, gaze flickering from your legs to your face. He caught every laboured breath you released, every flutter of your eyes slipping you in and out of a daze. His fingers were slower still, as if he never wanted this to stop. The stockings were like a second skin, adding a lustre to your legs the more he covered you with it. 

Sliding over your knee for the last time, he held onto the blood-coloured ribbons. Fingers skimming against silk-stained skin, he tied another perfect bow, tightening it at the ends. 

All done.

His gaze lingered on the bows, the sliver of skin past your thighs. His hands too, refused to leave your legs.

It was then his eyes flicked upward — right into yours. 

You caught every swirl of desire residing inside. 

Every little detail etched on his face was stained with lustful anguish, suppressed hunger of things you dared not imagine. You held onto your skirts with more force, afraid you would lose strength in your hands. 

Hyunjin’s hands, however, had no such troubles.

For they began to carry out his wishes — they slid upwards, past the stockings and upon your upper thighs, spreading them enough to slip himself between your legs. This alone had you near crumbling for him, but his eyes asked for more. Even with the dim light, you had never seen a man so beautiful in agony. 

You wondered whether he was going to say anything. Silence was a giver of many answers, but the questions you held could only be answered by his lulling whispers. Despite protest, you willed your hands beside you, clutching the sheets, waiting for him to tear your soul in pieces. 

Finally, the Duke of Hastings parted his mouth.

“One word, angel.”

He squeezed your thighs softly. 

“One word, and I will never torment you with my presence again.”

A bated breath escaped you.

It was much too late for that. Hyunjin had already tormented you, had done so ever since your fateful realisation, and you knew he would do so for the rest of your life. It would hardly matter whether he was oceans apart or a hair’s breadth close — him, and everything he represented, was complete and utter affliction.

Such a shame that he was a torment you would sacrifice everything to be around every day. Such a horrible, horrible shame that Hwang Hyunjin was a presence you loved more than you could let on.

Hence was the reason you did not answer him with words. What you wished to say was much too vulnerable.

No, you answered him in actions — replied with your hands raising to clasp his face, leaning down to envelope your lips with his. 

You were surprised to hear a pained moan leave his mouth, and you realised that was the sound of pure, heart-breaking relief. Instantly his hands travelled further as he kissed you back with twice the fervour, hands sliding to grip your waist. Pulling you to him, he erased any distance between you, delving deeper into your mouth. He shuddered at how he went so long without your tongue swirling along with his, like parting from a lost companion.

Fingers sliding to his neck, you welcomed his enthusiasm, his desperation which heightened with every searing touch, every soft bite of his teeth against your lips. He broke away, peppering open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, eliciting the sweetest whining from you. 

“...missed you,” he murmured on your skin, sending chills down your body as he kissed the edges of your dress's neckline. “I...missed you so much.”

“Hyunjin—” you began, wanting to say that you yearned for him, but the words on your tongue faded when his fingers bunched up the skirts of your gown, hitching it higher until the midnight stockings were back in view — he did not stop there, pushing the fabric further till it bunched at your waist, along with the petticoats. His hurried hands pulled down your underthings, sliding them right off your legs, discarding them behind them.

Seeing your cunt glistening in the lamplight nearly broke him.

“I—God,” he breathed out, hands spreading your legs apart. An aching whine escaped you at the action, the cool night air caressing your inner thighs. “Angel, tell me...we do not have to do this.” He glanced up at you, and the madness residing in his eyes infected your soul. 

Maybe madness was the only reason you damned the consequences.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Hyunjin licked his lips before blessing you with his closure.

The first stripe across your slit set you on fire. 

A soft groan through your mouth at the familiar sensation, the overbearing feeling of being ascended far away from this obscure bedroom. He had always worked wonders, but this time, the languor had faded, desire hardening his tongue against your folds. He pulled on your legs, sending his face further into your cunt, and you yelped at the ferocity of his actions. 

There was no denying it — the man had grown frantic without you.

Swiping in the arousal coating along your slit, a satisfied hum escaped him as he travelled upwards, your seething more encouragement. He struck gold as he found your clit, circling his tongue along the bud, rendering you helpless as you moaned without shame. You cared little if the guests heard you beyond the door, your husband making it too hard to contain yourself.

Perhaps you would have survived his treatment if he did not leave one of his hands upon your leg, trailing up your thigh. He slipped in not one, but two fingers straight inside, and your voice raised an octave — the gradual rhythm of his digits had that overflowing feeling creeping over you all over again. Your grip on his half-ponytail tightened, pleading for him to give you mercy, but the man was relentless, never opting for a break in his devouring.

“Damn it, please—” you grated out, instinctively rolling your hips against his face. The edge of the bed seemed more like the edge of the world. “Wh-whatever you do—”

You did not finish as Hyunjin squeezed your thigh, and you knew then in your dazed mind — a certainty that he understood. 

Within moments his pace quickened, fuelling the spark of nerves which swirled in your gut, threatening to overtake you. Teething your clit softly, then swirling his tongue along, you knew that if he carried on, he would break you on this bed. Something within you felt as if that was his was his very purpose.

Why the thought thrilled you, you would never know.

His rapid fingers and sensual tongue working harmoniously finally got through to you, as, with a whimpering cry, you came all over him, closing your eyes as spots of white stained your mind. You felt his ministrations slow, a small kiss gifted upon your sensitive clit before his lips pulled away. Other hand brushing across your leg, he soothed you from the high you experienced, whispers of his lilting voice perking you from your stupor.

“Hyunjin?” you quietly called, gazing at his lust-struck face. He did not look away as he brought the finger to his lips, sucking away at your residue.

You did not think you could ever get used to this image.

“Yes, angel?” he rasped out, straightening on his knees so his head nearly levelled with yours.

Catching the implications within your eyes, his own widened slightly.

“More?” he let himself wonder, and when you nodded much too desperately, he realised he had done it. 

All he needed was for you to voice it.

“Oh, my sweet little darling,” he whispered, taking one of your gloved hands. Slowly, he slid off the long gloves, repeating the same for the other. “This time, I cannot let you off.

His hands then clasped yours. “This time...I need you to say what you want for me.”

The declaration would have had you closing your legs in embarrassment if your husband was not between them. Not even embarrassment for what he said but...the idea of you wanting to completely oblige it.

Look at you — a few months ago, you possessed not a single inclination of what he suggested; what he asked for, what he so direly wanted you to say. The woman before this one would have rather buried herself under the earth than admit such desire for a man.

The Duke of Hastings, though, brought her out from her underground retreat, and revealed to her all that she was capable of. He showed her what everyone was so afraid to even talk about, and made you addicted to what was forbidden.

A dire shame you wanted Hyunjin to keep you intoxicated for the rest of your life.

You faced him once and for all. Asked him for the one thing which you never thought imaginable.

“Show me...all of it.”

Your hands travelled to his shoulders, keeping him close.

“Show me everything.”

If there was a way to bottle this moment and hang it on the walls of his heart, Hyunjin would have jumped at the chance.

Had he defiled you, after so long? Had he slipped his dirty fantasies into your mind, tainted you with his infatuation?

The answers to his questions were found upon your lips. He collided his own against yours as he gathered you up in his arms, standing up and taking you with him.

Your legs would have given way if we’re not for him keeping his grip — a grip which wandered upwards, catching the little metal hooks of your dress. He thrust his tongue inside your mouth, and the harsh frenzy delighted you, welcoming all of it as you opened for him wider. A shuddered breath escaped you at the hooks being undone by his hands, one by one till you felt your gown loosen.

At the last hook, Hyunjin pulled the sleeves off your arms, and the dress fell to the floor, leaving you with your corset and petticoats. You were caught off guard when he swivelled you around, you feeling the tugs of lace being unravelled with each pull of his fingers. The kisses did not cease, being rewarded at the crook of your neck. Each caress of his lips sent shivers down your spine — more so when he eased off the corset from your body, tugging off your petticoats along with it. 

All that was left was a thin, loose chemise, everything shown clearly beneath the white veil of its fabric. The man turned you to face him again, and his gaze turned molten at the sight that welcomed him. Taking your lips in his, he ripped off his own attire — the long coat, waistcoats, every piece from the waist up being discarded. He had to break away for a moment to take his shirt off, and you caught the sight of his lean figure, turned golden in the light. 

You could not help reaching out, running your curious fingers against his skin, soft and warm beneath your touch. He dared not speak, fearing you would take away your hand, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. 

Tonight, you did not want distance — and neither did he.

Kissing you again, he pulled the lace in front of your chemise, loosening the attire until, with wandering hands, he dropped the last layer you upheld. Slowly, never leaving your lips, he backed you against the bed, holding you steady as he laid you upon the sheets. You never let go of him, aching to take all of him in your mouth, taste his very soul till it was the only thing that remained on your tongue. 

“Fuck—” a curse escaped him as he broke away, catching the swelling of your lips. His gaze trailed downwards, upon your breasts which perked at the sight. “You’re so—so beautiful, I—”

Trails of open-mouthed kisses attacked you after, falling upon your breasts where Hyunjin began swiping his tongue along the nipple. The foreign wave of pleasure had you ripping out the most atrocious moan, caring less if the whole manor were to hear. 

While his tongue played with you, his fingers worked at his trousers, unbuckling his belt as he peeled off the clothing, tossing it to the ever growing pile. You craned your head forward, glancing at the bulge near bursting from his underwear. A quivering sigh escaped you, rendering louder by the quickening of his actions.

Getting rid of his underwear, his cock sprung free, and you were surprised you had not passed out from the mere sight, red and angry and too bloody big. You could not stop staring, hard to believe that a man could possess such...such substantial anatomy.

“Like what you see, angel?” Your husband mused, leaving his place upon your nipple. Flustered, you tried to look away, but it was no use, when the man caught your chin with his fingers. “I’m surprised you can be shy even now.”

That did not help with your situation, causing you to heat drastically beneath his touch. Chuckling, he dropped a little kiss upon your nose before resting his forehead against yours. 

Grasping his cock, he levelled it against your leaking cunt, the head teasing your folds. Even the small action had you seething, the warm residue sending shockwaves across your body. You held onto his neck, fearing you would lose yourself if you dared not hold onto him.

His midnight eyes turned to yours, noses brushing. “This may hurt for a second, ____,” he confessed, voice barely a murmur. “But I promise I will make that second up to you.”

Nodding slightly, you watched only him as his gaze travelled downwards. Fear threatened to take over, but one look at your husband, and it all faded.

With a final prayer to the heavens, Hyunjin began his descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his cock slid into your cunt. A heightened whine bubbled up to your throat, and you let it free with each inch that entered, terrified that this man could break you with what he slipped inside you. Your walls tightened with its entrance, and the more you voiced out the more he tended, peppering sweet kisses upon your cheeks.

You did not know how long it was till he stopped, letting you adjust to him inside you. Your eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets, yet your husband was a huge comfort, circling smooth strokes upon your hip with his thumb, holding your face as he held the universe in his hands.

Breathing deeply, he glanced at you — a nod was your response to his consoling gaze, knowing what he meant.

With that, the duke began to pull out.

He was slow, just as he was when he first entered you. He was gradual, languid, and the terror that haunted you was replaced with a new, different kind of high. 

You had never felt something so pleasurable.

You revealed your surprise to Hyunjin, stare glistening at the foreign sensation — your entire body was up in the clouds, relishing the slow withdrawal and the skill he brought in the bedroom. You were so sure that he was terrified too, scared of ruining this, but all you could feel was pure, unadulterated delight.

When the head reached the beginning of your folds once again, you thought that this was it — there was no more to be done, and your contentment was short-lived.

However, your husband surprised you as he slid inside you once again. 

This time, there was a slight increase of pace, and it kept getting better, your feelings heightening with each passing second as he dipped further into you. He was so unbelievably good, knowing just how to make you whimper — God, his gaze was enough to undo you, ablaze with all the hellfire from the underworld. The devil worked hard, but Hyunjin worked overtime, bottoming out into you once more.

From that point on, your bodies began to move in sync, you giddily moving your hips along with his, aching to have him inside the whole time. Your hands carded through his velvety locks, taking out the ribbons so his hair fell all about him, curtailing his face as he rocked back and forth upon you. By God, he was so exquisite, something straight out of an artist movement, despite the sweat beading down his forehead, despite the parted mouth, the slight panting.

“H-Hyunjin—” you began, interrupted by another sharp moan from his efforts. “Hyunjin, I think I’m close—”

This time, you were interrupted by his lips upon your neck, teething love bites everywhere upon your skin. He hummed against you at your warning, and thrusted his cock into you. The head reached a certain spot which had you seeing seventh heaven, seeing truth and peace and everything in between, because fuck, he knew where to strike.

You did not know how long it had been till you felt yourself dizzying, the feeling in your lower abdomen warning you of its leash snapping. Hyunjin, aware that you were close, only brought his fingers to your clit, prodding at the bud till tears stung your eyes. 

“I...fuck, angel—!” He gasped between thrusts, pressing sloppy kisses upon your lips. “Look at you, all...all messed up from my cock!”

Heightened wailing was your response, broken murmurs being spewed from your lips. Hastily the man shook his head, revelling in your utter ruination.

“Ah—! Come on now!” he cooed in his husky rasp, holding onto your head. “Say it for me, darling.”

A part of you did not think you could manage, but you had to if it meant he would bring you relief. The duke may have been the love of your life, but he was still, undoubtedly, a smug bastard. 

Despite that, you could not believe how easily you resorted to begging. 

“Please, Hyunjin!” You pleaded in half-pants, the tears spilling when he delved into that one particular spot again. “Make me do—whatever the hell I do, damn it!”

Huffing out a small laugh, the man held onto you a little tighter, retaining his grin. “Oh, ____,” he said, and the next words slipped out in his haze of lust, not realising he had revealed something of terrible importance.

After planting another disheveled kiss, he murmured, “You are so lucky that I love you.”

You did not have time for this declaration to settle before your husband obliged you in the best possible way; his thrusting turned erratic, fast and uneven, and the increased pace of his fingers was too much, all at once.

You had no choice but to let out a cry as you spilled onto him — some escaped from your walls and stained the sheets, whimpering breaths keeping you alive. His ministrations slowed as well, fingers stopping at your clit. 

Watching you undo yourself for him was certainly the last straw for him — for the first time he released into you, grunting at the impact. Parts of his orgasm, too, sullied the sheets, but that was the least of his concerns, as he held onto you for dear life, nearly shattering his entire self upon you.

Pulling out of you, he collapsed beside you on the bed, his deep breaths breaking the silence. You, too, panted for a while, gazing up at the dark ceiling. 

You expected your first thought to be utter delight at your first time. You had finally done what no one in polite society ever told you about, and it was so wonderful that you doubt anyone would have shared in your fortune. 

However, your mind was occupied with another matter entirely.

You are lucky that I love you.

You closed your eyes. 

Hyunjin loved you. Hwang Hyunjin, your best friend and husband, loved you when you thought it impossible.

Something within you then wondered if it was too good to be true.

“____?”

Noticing your name, you turned, finding the very man staring at you — in a way which would have your theories proven true. You did not know about yourself, but seeing him before you, black locks disheveled, skin glistening from sweat, you could not deny that anyone would fall for him if they saw him now. 

You tried to push your emotions past you, blinking back a bit of fatigue. “Yes?”

“Tell me what goes on in that mind of yours.” Turning over, he propped his arm, holding his head in his hand. “Are you alright?”

Perhaps you should have opted for a vague yes, but something in you did not want to beat around the bush anymore. You wished to tell him your truth.

“I was wondering about what you said,” you began, reflecting his position. 

“I have said many things, darling,” the man drawled. “What do you specifically mean?”

“Well…” you tried to avoid his gaze, but you knew by now that evading Hyunjin was useless. “Before I...you know…”

“Know what?” He mused, which had you rolling your eyes. 

“You know what I mean!” Sighing, you continued, constantly looking at his features. “Well, just before that, you said something to me...is it true?”

Silence fell on the room as your husband pondered at your question. His eyebrows raised, and you realised that he had figured it out.

“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding. “I know exactly what you speak of.”

You waited for his response, suddenly aware of how naked you were in this bedroom. Dread curled at your stomach, and you debated grabbing the sheets and sneaking out of the manor. 

That is when Hyunjin gave you his answer. Gave it to you as he took your hand in both of his, pinning you with a stare he reserved only for you.

“They are the truest words I have spoken.”

He leaned into you, and your heart fluttered, much more dramatically now because of what he revealed.

A soul-saving smile adorned his lips. “Despite our circumstances, it was inevitable that I would fall, and I thank the heavens that I did. I love you, ____, even if you cannot return the feeling. I love you as the friend I never had.

“I love you because you are the most inspirational woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet.” 

When he finished, you wondered whether you had the words to respond to a confession as heart-wrenching as the one your husband blessed you with. Tears pricked the corners of your vision, and you leaned into his hands which cupped your face.

Brushing his lips against yours, you willingly accepted, giving him all the affection you garnered within you for so long. The tears trailed down your cheeks, and you had to pull away, hands curling at his locks.

“I-I…” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hyunjin, I-I love you so much—”

The man’s heart burst from his chest.

His rashness got the better of him, interrupting you with a searing kiss as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip. 

Never in his lust-hazed mind did he foresee you reciprocating his affection.

He was ready to spend eternity in a one-sided relationship. He was ready to stomach the melancholy you brought if you were to fall for another, or if you simply never loved at all, blankly living your life without any form of affection to give.

But…to have you fall for him. 

What he said to you was wrong.

You were not lucky that he loved you.

He was lucky that you loved him. 

So the Duke of Hastings, pulling the clean sheets upwards, showed you how lucky he was, deepening the kiss and you offering all of you again, moving your lips along with his. 

And in this night, the two of you made another revelation — that perhaps reality was not the villain in the both of yours tales after all. 

THE DAYS AFTER THE BALL WERE NOTHING BUT EUPHORIA.

You wondered whether it was all a dream, with the happiness that followed without any strings attached. 

The passionate endeavours between the two of you did not stop at Seungmin’s manor — hands wandered in the carriage back home, and the moment you stepped at Lansdowne, Hyunjin backed you against the wall and ripped your dress right off, never wanting to stop ravishing you. You did not stop him, did not want to stop him, when you waited so long for him to engulf you without any barriers. By the time you both stopped in the shy hours of dawn, you had been drained of all physical strength, but filled with mental joy.

You fell in love with Hwang Hyunjin, and had the fortune of this love reciprocated. 

Sometimes, you wondered if it was all a dream — a twisted, subliminal illusion, tricking you into believing that marital life is what every writer writes of in the end, the solution filled with flowers and sweet kisses. You never thought, even in your wildest dreams, that you could achieve such bliss with another. 

Then, you would wake up with your husband’s arms around you, and finally understand. Finally comprehend what it meant, to never stray from a soul connected with yours. 

The weeks after also brought the finishing of your novel, your childhood dream all polished in your hands as you took it to the most famous publishers in town. You had fears of the reactions, as what you wrote during certain parts of the novel was borderline scandalous, but the men at the publishing house enjoyed the first few chapters you showed them, and asked for more on the next visit.

You were overjoyed by their reaction, but then doubt entered your mind at once — what if they were only agreeable to your writing because of your position? 

The thought soured your happiness. You did not want to be a writer because of your position in society, but because of your skill. There may have been thousands of other women with talents surpassing yours, but would never be able to achieve even the interest of a publisher. 

Hyunjin was the first to know of your news, and the worries which accompanied it. He listened to you on your second, third visits, scoffing at your disbelief of your turn of events. It was ridiculous in his mind how ardently you doubted yourself, waving off the publishers’ interests in your novel as sheer luck, or your station as the Duchess of Hastings. He assured you many a time, that your flair in creating stories surpassed no man or woman living in London. 

He knew those publishers well — well enough to know that they had never released a novel written by a woman, no matter how influential she may have been. Knowing you had managed to enter consideration for publishing was a feat in itself. The duke had absolutely no doubt that he would see your works in the hands of every person who knew how to read.

What you did not expect, however, was the request from the publishers to have your novel anonymously published. You demanded a reason, and they provided a whole list — women writing was only considered a secondary activity, and if word were to reach the city of a Duchess writing books instead of tending to her family, then it would cause an outrage. You could not believe your ears, despite a small part of you expecting this setback. 

You wanted your name on the book. 

Confiding in your husband once more, you told him of the condition, angrily pacing back and forth in your home. “It is simply...awful!” you spat, locking your hands behind your back, turning the room once more. Hyunjin watched you with a concerned look passing over his features as he looked up from his book. “Why should I hide my identity? I am proud of what I wrote, damn it!”

The man let out a sigh. “I think you should keep the name anonymous.”

That had you pausing. “I beg your pardon?” you demanded, thundering over to him. “Are you saying I conform to their conditions?”

“I am not suggesting it because of their reasoning. I know they are still too ashamed to try publishing a woman’s creation.” 

Closing his book, he set it to the side table. “My love, there is nothing that brings me more joy than seeing you accomplish your dreams. I want more than anything to boast of your mind, and the writings it invents. However,” he continued, “I fear when the public sees your name printed on the novel, a controversial one at that, and see it that they attack you.”

“But that does not matter to me,” you responded, hands on your hips. “In fact, I welcome their criticism! Let me see what poppycock they want to say of my hard work.”

Hyunjin clamped his lips together, trying to hide a smile. “I am happy you do not care for such people, but it would damage your future writings. It would damage your future.”

When you frowned at him, he held out his hands. You closed the distance, settling upon his lap, sliding your arms around his shoulders, while he did the same around your waist. “Tell me, angel, do you wish to write after this?”

“Of course.”

“Well, see it like this,” he began. “Let us say you publish the novel anonymously. It would be in instant circulation, and everyone would read it, no matter who they are. Why? Because your identity is hidden. There would be no bias against you.”

“So?” you asked, and Hyunjin gave you a look. “Okay, okay, continue!”

“As I was saying,” he carried on, “This would not only help you gain an initial audience, but, if you do wish to reveal yourself after that, then it would be perfect. You would have not only shown the public that a woman had written such a brilliant novel, but anyone who would have had previous biases would either conform to reading your writing, or be furious that they had been tricked into reading a woman’s novel.” He then added, smirking, “Which, in my opinion, would be a very amusing situation to witness.” 

You thought over what he said, mind in slight conflict. “In the end, though, it is your choice,” he reassured you. “Whatever you do, you have my undeterred support.”

The little addition had you smiling. “You make valid points,” you admitted, which had the man releasing a chuckle.

“You say that as if I have no intelligence,” he jeered, pulling you closer. “You will be thanking me when all of this goes as I predicted.”

“Don’t push it,” you countered. “We both know you have been proved wrong many times.”

“Hmmm…” he trailed off, leaning in, brushing his lips upon your skin. “At least I know I am right about one thing.”

“Oh?” Your head began to swim as he trailed a few lingering kisses up your neck. “And...and what would that be?”

He did not answer you — only offered an alluring smile before pressing his lips against yours. A soft hum left you as he moved his mouth against yours, slow and languid, teasing his tongue against the seams. 

You would have offered yourself right then and there if he had not broken away, drumming his fingers against your waist. The smile darkened as he gave you his reply.

“You cannot resist me, angel.” 

That, no matter how much it worked against your favour, was an undoubted fact.

After this though, you made your decision to keep anonymous, letting the publishers know of your change of heart. You knew that what Hyunjin said made sense, and, if your novel does receive recognition, then revealing yourself would create a huge statement in London society, positive or not. With this in mind, brought the final edited drafts of your work, and received information of the commissions and percentages taken by the publishing house.

Because the release of your novel was to take some time, you had some freedom with your everyday activities, which were once taken up by the constant editing. The duke, luckily, had begun to employ much more able men in his authority, and so his work was decreased significantly, to the point where he had days to spend with you alone.

During that waiting period, he suggested the two of you retreat to Hemingford, where you both spent your honeymoon. Your smile never left as you jumped at the idea, the man in turn making arrangements for the earliest carriage out of the city. 

Within two days, you were welcomed by the little manor, nestled in the gifts of nature. You found yourself warming to the whole place once more, memories of the past months returning in a flash. Images of the many groves of trees, small network of rivers and a special presence, soothed you in every part you walked through. You nearly forgot how dear Hemingford was to you in the chaos of city life, engulfing its regal, almost mystical atmosphere. A part of you hoped that the book would take forever to be published, so you could never leave the natural retreat Hyunjin’s ancestors had created.

The man himself was glad he opted to take you to the manor — he saw your nerves slowly taking over in London, and knew that the more you stayed in Lansdowne, the more the wait was going to eat you alive. Aware of your attachment towards this place, he made it his personal mission to bring you here, and try to provide you with a little peace. When he caught that certain smile of yours when your eyes fell on the manor and the gardens around it, he felt half his worries melting away in the spring air.

He hated seeing you so unnerved. 

After a few days resting in paradise, the situation was changed for the better. You, breathing in the very earth beneath your feet, observing the trees curved over you like a concerned parent, thought that you could stay here forever. Receiving a letter from the publishers’ of the near completion of copies made only brightened your spirits, and you sighed out into nature.

“Is something the matter?”

Perking up, you saw Hyunjin, who walked over from behind you. 

“Ah...not much,” you said, watching him settle beside you on the bench you sat upon, folding one dark-clad leg over the other. In his hands possessed a book of deep-shaded red, which he held with great care. “Thinking about the letter today.”

“I see.” His eyes wandered down to his fingers. “Actually, I do have something for you, relating to the subject.”

“Oh?” You followed his trail. “Does this book have something to do with it?”

“However did you figure that out?” He drawled, but then he faced you properly, unfolding his leg. “Here.”

You took the possession, eyes on him. “Whose book is it?”

A knowing smile escaped his lips. “Look at the front, angel.”

Curious, you obliged, checking the title. 

You completely stilled. 

Written on the front was the name of your novel. 

“Oh my God,” you got out, holding it with both hands, opening it to the pages. There it all was, inscripted upon the hundreds of pieces of paper.

Your writing.

Your sleepless nights, your labour, your every ounce of strength, tied together by paper and leather and string. 

Rushing, you opened to a random section of the novel, smile widening at the typewriter’s neat, cleaner version of your manic scribbles. The dialogue, the description of each environment — it was there before you, but this time it was not in your head, whirling indefinitely without a place to explain itself.

It was all on paper — in your very hands.

“H-Hyunjin,” you stammered out, not realising your heart was becoming a little too heavy. “Oh my God—where did you get this? Have they—they have begun to sell copies already?”

“Oh Lord,” your husband murmured, hands on your shoulders. “No, no, my love, this was of my own doing.”

When he caught the confused expression upon your aghast face, he explained further. “Before we left for London, I paid a visit to the publishers’, who had started typing up copies of your book. I requested the first copy made be given to me.”

His thumbs began to stroke soothing circles onto your skin. “I know you would have wanted to hold it in your hands before anyone else.”

Heavens above. He truly knew you so well.

You focused back on the book, closing it as you ran your fingers over the leather cover. “I…”

“No need,” he said, giving you an amused grin. “I already know I am the best husband one could ask for.”

He expected his banter to be returned, but you responded to him with a heart-shattering smile.

Holding out the book, you propped it in his hands. “I want you to have it, Hyunjin.”

This time, it was his turn to be confused. “Am I missing the joke here?”

You held his gaze, albeit with much difficulty. “I promised you something once, quite a long time ago. All my firsts are yours.” 

Your hand reached out, brushing against his. “This is my first novel. My most prized possession.” A pause, before holding that state with all your might. “I would want nothing more than for you to keep it.”

The duke used his every ounce of strength not to cry upon the bench. “Well then…” he began, taking the book from you. He turned to the front page, which was blank, save for the title name again, and the written anonymously typed onto its surface. “Well, ____, you must sign it for me!”

A laugh escaped you at that. “An autograph?” You jested, spluttering further when the man brought out his fountain pen, opening the cap. “I suppose with this enthusiasm, I shall throw in a little message.”

Hyunjin slapped a hand to his chest, brows raising in mock surprise. “By God, you spoil me!”

“Give it here!” You retorted, taking the pen and book once more as you found the landing page. 

You pondered for a few minutes on what to write, earning a few hurry ups! and the occasional she does not love me after all, the latter greatly exaggerated. Berating him, you finally thought of the words, arriving straight from the heart. 

Finishing off, you gave the novel back. “Let us see what faux sweetening you have made for me,” he chortled, eyes lowering to the text.

His grin began to fade as he read the message in his mind.

TO THE MAN WHO WAS MY FIRST FRIEND, MY FIRST KISS, AND NOW MY FIRST LOVE.

HERE’S TO MANY MORE FIRSTS WITH YOU. I KNOW THEY WILL ALL LAST. 

I LOVE YOU. 

Hyunjin knew that the sting in his eyes was not the spring breeze.

Slowly, he looked up, catching you staring at him with a smile—loving smile upon your face. A shuddered breath left his lips, unable to form the words.

“Oh no,” you began, jesting despite tears welling up in your own eyes. “It seems the duke believes in my faux sweetening after all.”

A coughed laugh left him at that, trying to clamp his lips together from smiling, but his emotions refused him to suppress himself. His eyes crescented, adding to his near teary grin. Propping the book to the side, he offered his familiar stare, laced with every fibre of affection.

“Come here.”

You jumped at the command, leaning closer as he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you to him. He moulded his lips against yours, and you readily accepted him, offering yourself up entirely for him — as if you were not completely his by your own choice.

The slight madness laced upon his mouth had you whining onto him, taking in the entirety of his affection as you opened up to him. Your request was teased upon with his tongue, sliding along your bottom lip, but the man pulled away, panted breaths fanning your mouth.

He pressed his forehead against yours, fingers holding onto your face as if letting go would cause you to stray. “I…” he let out a deep, trembling breath. “I love you, ____. So much.”

Your heart would never tire of the declaration. “I love you too, Hyunjin.”

And as he claimed your lips once more, you wondered whether you had finally achieved what every work of literature praised in the most elevated of languages. 

Still, at least you knew this — that once there was a duke who you promised all your firsts to, and had somehow found his way into your heart. 

There was once a woman, who refused to believe in love for herself, only for this duke to convince her otherwise, by falling for her completely.

Love stories may be a mere creation of the mind, but at least, at the very least, you knew.

Your love story was real. The first which was not mere fantasy, but real and true and tangible.

You had a feeling that this first, out of all the others you shared with the Duke of Hastings, was going to last.

[fckwritersblock]

The Other Sinclair

Stranger Things; Black!reader x Everybody

Description: Lucas’ older sister gets back in town and is not very happy to hear about the events that took place. Especially when it comes to someone putting their hands on her little brother.

Warnings: I mean.....mild violence, but again this page is 18+ so y’all be aite

(Unedited .)

“5 minutes Lucas! I leave you guys for 5 got damn minutes and everything goes to shit!”

Y/n was livid.

It wasn’t really anyone’s intention for her to find out. Lucas knew better than to involve her unless he really needed to. If there was one thing she didn’t play about it with her family. It would’ve all been fine too, however when Y/n saw Steve, she asked what happened to his face and he couldn’t help but blurt everything out. Now, being that she was included in all the events the previous year it didn’t come as a surprise that the moment she left for 2 weeks for the cheerleading competition they’d get themselves into more shit.

“I just want to know what made him think he could put his hands on you!”

Now she knew about the new kid and his rivalry with Steve. That was purely their egos and a mess full of entirely too much testosterone and high school cliche for her to bother with. That would come to pass as Steve was proving to be less and less of asshole everyday. But to hear Steve’s face, though healing, looked like that as a result of protection her little brother and the rest of the kids..

No, ma’am.

“Was anyone gonna tell me?” She fussed at the preteens.

“It’s over, we handled it.” Lucas groaned knowing his words were falling on deaf ears.

“Uh huh. I’m sure.” The elder Sinclair rolled her eyes, arms crossed and hip poked out. “And this Billy kid is related to who? Your little girlfriend right?”

Y/n’s gaze quickly shifted to the girl in question.

“Yeah. H-hi. I’m Max.”

Y/n said nothing, just continued to stare and assess the child. Finally she smiled.

“Max, you look like a sweet kid and I really don’t wanna not like you. So spill. What’s his deal?”

Max twiddled her fingers only hesitated for a moment before she gave her boyfriend‘s sister the backstory on her stepbrother and his dad. Giving her a little bit of detail about how he also felt about black people.

“Interesting. And where can I find this Hargrove?” Y/n inquired.

“The arcade.” Max answered.

Nodding she went over to the front door of the Sinclair residence and opened the door.

“Ma, I’m taking the boys to the arcade with Steve.”

Barely take time to get a response, she grabbed her house keys off the hook and closed the door behind her.

“Y/n I don’t think-“ Steve began but she cut him of.

“Don’t hurt yourself doing that.”

“This isn’t a good idea.” Lucas mumbled.

“I don’t remember asking you.” Y/n replied.

“I forgot that’s where Erica gets it-“ Dustin commented in a failed attempt to whisper.

“Shut up Dustin. Everybody in the car.” She snatched the keys from Steve. “And I’m driving.”

The ride to the arcade was quiet, everyone afraid to speak as Y/n drove them the short distance a little quicker than usual. Soon as they pulled up, she parked randomly and they all hopped out.

“Where is he?”

Max looked around before pointing him out.

Once Y/n laid eyes on him she scoffed before rolling them. There stood Billy Hargrove leaning against his car with Tommy and a few girls fawning over him. He looked like the king of douche bags like he had some grade A daddy issues. Any other time she’d feel for him, but he did the one thing he shouldn’t have and that was a mess with her little brother.

“Hold these.” She practically shoved her pompoms in Steve’s hands before heading for Billy.

“Babe,” but the look y/n gave Steve shut him up.

All The kids followed her protesting the entire way trying to get her to change their mind scared of what Billy might do to her regardless of the deal he made with Max. After all, she was just a stranger approaching him in a hostile way, and the gang expected nothing more than for him to react in true Billy. Steve on the other hand, was preparing to possibly receive another busted lip if Billy decided to retaliate and even think about raising his hand to her. He’d go out fighting again if need be. However Y/n wasn’t scared.

Less than a few feet away she bawled her fist, feeling all the anger toward the white boy surface.

“Hey asshole!”

He barely spared them a glance before doing a double take. Once he spotted his sister and her friends a cocky smirk planted itself on his face.

“Well well if it isn’t the losers-“ y/n held up her hand to silence him, her steps coming to a halt.

“You Billy Hargrove?” She pretended to smile flirtatiously.

“Who’s asking princess?” He asked with a cocky smirk, giving her a once over.

“Y/n Sinclair.” And with that Y/n cocked her arm back and punch him squads in face.

“Well, shit.”, Dustin said as the rest of the party gasped.

Wow they didn’t hear a crack or anything, they could see Billy’s now blooded nose, leaking while he grabbed it.

“Fuck! You bitch!” He quickly got in Y/n’s face to where she took a step closer staring up at him.

“I dare you.” Y/n challenged not even flinching as his nostrils flared and fist balled at his side as if he was thinking about retaliating.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but put your hands on my little brother,” she pointed at Lucas. “Again and I promise you’ll have bigger problems when my brother and daddy gets a hold of you and yours.”

“Brother?” Billy repeated sounding surprised.

“Howard Star QB.” She smirked.

Anthony Sinclair was older than Y/n by two years. Currently not present since he was off at Howard University but that could all change with a phone call from her or Erica.

“Are we clear?” She asked crossing her arms.

Billy continued to glare at her as he held his blooded nose, but nodded nonetheless.

“Manners, William. Use your words.”

“Yeah, yeah, now fuck off.”

“Glad we’re on the same page Willy.” She smiled before turning back toward the kids who all continued to stare in shock.

“Are you sure Mrs. Wheeler is picking you up?”

“Yeah-“ they chorused.

“Mom.” Dustin added.

“Good! I’ll see you at home Luke. Bye guys.” She smiled taking her pom poms from Steve and heading to his car.

“Oh. And don’t touch Steve either.” She called over her shoulder. “He’s also mine.”

“Wow,” spoke El and Max in awe

“She’s scary when she’s mad.” Mike commented.

“Yeah.” Steve agreed. “And hot.”

“Very hot.” Dustin added earning a punch in the arm from Lucas and A hit upside the head from Steve

“Come on Harrington.” Y/n beckoned from the passenger seat. “This ice cream isn’t going to pay for itself.”

The teenager grinned to himself goofily as he headed toward his car.

“Yes ma’am!”

[ladyhindsight]

Hi! So I'm re-reading TMI these days and can't help but feel for you anytime I stumble upon something frustating or laugh when a limb is having a life of its own lol. I don't know much about editing or the quality of the writing in general because I'm not a native english speaker so reading in english kinda makes it better, if that makes sense (even tho I now notice things thanks to your blog, and let me tell you, I had the displeasure to read a small part of the translation in french and it is so much worse that I'm fine with not getting how shitty CC's writing truly is) but omg I want to facepalm so often… Particularly now that I'm almost done with CoFA and I can see so clearly the influence of TID in it. Like in one of the first three books, when Valentine killed the Silent Brothers to get the Soul Sword, everyone insist they were ALL dead (which was stupid) but now some Brothers were away at the time so no worry, Jem is well and alive! Or Luke and Magnus could always get into the NY institute, but Simon had to stay outside because he's a vampire but now there is a sanctuary they never thought about using before because it was "out of fashion" (sure Jane) and they suddenly remember it exists! Poor Simon, knowing they could have hang out with him there all along but wouldn't bother to just think about that big room standing in front of their eyes. I was also very frustrated with the fact that no one seems to care what Valentine was doing for the last seven years after giving Jace to the Lightwoods and before coming back in CoB (yes, we do kind of find out at some point that he was probably hiding in Hodge's cabin or farm or whatever but why no one ever WONDER at least to themselves where he was?). There is also, of course, all the BS with Malec in general plus the fact that it makes no sense anyway with The Red Scrolls of Magic, but this is too painful for me to even think about. Nothing makes sense, really, as if we all knew those books better than the person who wrote them, can you imagine? I could go on for hours but I won't, I just needed to rant for a second and I felt so sorry for you who go so much deeper into that hell hole for your wonderful blog that I love. So kudos, stay strong and I can't wait to read your next post! (and sorry if this makes no sense, as I said I'm french and we all know french people can't speak english).

Hi! Thank you for the love, it means a lot. 🥰😊 I am slowly working towards the next post.

When I go through Clare’s writing, more often than before I have to just stop and think whether some things in the text are worth pointing out, because at this point stuff just begins to repeat itself a lot. Like noted in the previous message, Clare’s writing has barely improved in the course of 15+ books. I’ve made a PDF file of City of Bones with bunch of footnotes that never really made it to the blog, but the content of those notes apply to the following installments as well because of that repetition of writing mistakes, weird or weak sentence structures, choice of words, story structure, plot etc. And sometimes my opinions are just made of weird noises and frustration that I can’t put into words. 😂

Clare adding these new elements to the Shadowhunter world really show how little thought went into it in the beginning of the series. I was originally so confused when I read CoFA for the first time ever because I truly thought Valentine had killed every Silent Brother there was previous to that, and why wouldn’t we think that? It is exactly how the writing presented the case. The first three books of The Mortal Instruments feel so disjointed from everything else that came afterwards, because the world started getting bigger after them but none of those new elements were present in them (obviously they couldn’t have been, but you know). Jem as a character did not exist before Tessa appeared at the end of City of Glass to herald a prequel series. Similarly how Jace probably wasn’t Herondale when City of Bones was written. His scar appeared first in CoA, and then it was relevant for Imogen to notice it. Not that it had been an essential part of his character before the plot demanded it.

Similarly this case with Simon and the Institute Sanctuaries. In the original TMI trilogy the vampires appeared through Projections. There wasn’t such facilities mentioned before that. Clare just added things as she went along. Similarly to this, the Shadow Markets and the Scholomance. Imagine how bigger the world had been if there was even a mention of these places in the first three books? Especially since everyone has been visiting the Shadow Markets, like, always if GotSM is anything to go by. But there is that absence because, again, none of these concept existed, and retroactively writing stories about how, for instance, Jace as a kid went to a Shadow Market does not bring that same magic to the original trilogy where such concept is unheard of.

In Born to Endless Night the Sanctuaries are rendered effectively useless when Magnus’ magic can give Lily an access to wander the halls of the Institute. Aside from other grievances with that story, Clare effectively broke the rules of her own world to make it easier for Lily to be present in the party instead of writing them having a party elsewhere where Lily as a vampire could safely attend, and without this rule-bending as a surplus.

Valentine’s whereabouts, like you said, well he just kept training Sebastian and that’s about it. Every character never really thought about it more or questioned why he waited seven more years to finally resurface. Most things were just taken by face value. The first three books especially were really half-cooked, if even that, when they were published.

[bokutoslittlebird]

Cupid’s Arrow + Cynar + blue twist + ice

Includes — Oikawa Tōru, Iwaizumi Hajime, Matsukawa Issei, Hanamaki Takahiro, Kunimi Akira, Kindaichi Yūtarō

Warnings: incest (biological and pseudo/step), in an AU where you’re the sister of all of them, absent parents, Omegaverse, knotting, oral (m. and f. receiving), spitroasting, double vaginal penetration, creampie(s), dubcon/noncon (it’s implied)

As the only omega to Iwaizumi Akirhiro it was up to you to take care of your brothers when your parents left to go on a vacation, just the two of them. Your father had married several women, aiming to increase his wealth and fortune through business contracts that bled into marriage contracts, with you and your biological brother being the first children from his first wife. Hajime and you were close and as close can be, always having each other’s backs. Then Oikawa Aimi came into your lives and then your mother was hardly ever seen, and you got a new brother. Then, it repeated itself as if your father couldn’t be satisfied with just one woman or he got a woman pregnant and had to quickly arrange marriage to avoid scandals.

It felt like they were never there for you.

When the door shuts and they leave to go on vacation, you’re well aware your duties start then. Tōru begs for you to play with him, your favorite younger brother, while Takahiro begs for you to make him a strawberry cake. Akira and Yūtarō are the youngest, but they aim to have your attention all to themselves, as well. Hajime is the only who breaks them up, as he is not only the eldest but also the most dominant alpha. Letting you go off to do what you need to do, he forces them to stay busy and leave you alone.

Well, he tries.

Throughout the day, you find each of your darling brothers beside you and inside you. Hajime isn’t much better, but he waits until you’re done with everything, always the best for last. Issei is the first, he always is, since he misses out on Hajime’s wrath and goes to the kitchen for some breakfast. His stature looms over yours, arms caging you in as he lazily grins down at you. Hands stop what they’re doing, putting down the dishes and washing the soapy suds off your hands before you turn towards him, ready to ask what he would like for breakfast.

“You, what else?” He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, a sweet and wholesome gesture, yet his wandering hands speak a different tune. Large hands dive into your shorts, past the waistband of your panties and his fingers slide into your slick pussy, already accumulating a bit of arousal. His lips move down, his legs bending into a kneeling position until he’s on the floor, his nose pressed into your flimsy shorts. He makes quick work of them, pulling them down and away, hiking you onto the counter to give him more room to have access to you. Fingers go back to the slick, spreading your folds for his awaiting eyes as you close your eyes and turn your head. The scent wafting off Issei in waves is intense, the whole house can probably smell it, despite how large it is.

A tongue presses to your clit, lips covering it and sucking as you squeak from the sensation. So caught up in your thoughts, you forgot about the position you are currently in. Issei doesn’t want your attention anywhere else, dark eyes looking up at you as he presses his tongue against your sensitive skin, lips sucking on your clit as his fingers dive in and out of you, prepping you for something much, much bigger.

Issei doesn’t let you finish on his fingers and mouth, much preferring to feel your walls spasming around is cock and his knot. His attire consists of sweatpants, easily pulled down with his boxers for his cock to spring free as it bounces against his abdomen, precum beads dripping down the shaft. The scene doesn’t last long, your head being forced back as he nudges it up with his nose, placing his head in the crook as he pushes himself into your cunt. He’s large and thick, his knot is always the hardest to take, but you accept it without any qualms. It’s wrong, you know it is, but you learned a long time ago that they won’t listen to you, so it’s better to keep your mouth shut.

Issei picks up his pace, your cunt squelching with every thrust he gives as his hips slam into yours, large hands keeping him hunched over you as they hold onto the counter. His force feels like it should be shaking the house, but you just hold onto his broad shoulders and take all he can and will give you, hoping his seed won’t take. With a final thrust and a growl, he pushes his knot past your barriers as his mouth covers yours, muffling an ear-piercing scream as he plugs you full. Your insides tingle with the stretch, the added pleasure of his load inside you as your walls gush around his cock, milking him dry as your high rises and falls.

The day is similar in that sense, having Tōru and Takahiro join you in the laundry room, the alpha bending you over the clothes you just folded so he can inspect your pussy, still full and dripping from Issei’s load. Takahiro takes your mouth, his fingers slipping between your lips and spreading your jaw wide, his cock hard and ready to go. He’s only a beta, so he is usually asking for blowjobs since he can’t accidentally orally knot you. Tōru, who presented as an alpha, takes your cunt, his cock hard and already plunging into your depths that has you jerking forward. The perfect opportunity for Takahiro to shove your open mouth on his cock, tip bumping in the back of your throat as you try to not throw up.

They’re both relentless, but they work in tandem as they don’t force your body in two different directions at once. As Tōru thrusts up into you, your head bobs down on Takahiro’s cock, then vice versa. It’s a overwhelmingly full feeling, their scents buzzing in the air around you as you feel yourself drowning in pleasure. With Takahiro’s grip on your hair tight and taut, he keeps your pace on him steady until he feels your tongue swiping over the underside of his head, the most sensitive area on his cock. It’s the final straw, a loud groan as he pushes you on his cock and coats your throat in his cum. Tōru isn’t far behind, his grip tightening on your hips as he slams into you once more, his knot getting caught inside you and a moan, high-pitched and loud, erupts in your ear. Tōru and Issei’s seed is mixed together, plugged by Tōru’s knot as Takahiro presses a kiss to your lips, tongue swiping over the white liquid spilling from your lips.

Akira and Yūtarō will then join you for lunch, the two betas asking for more food because they’re hardly ever sated with just food. You don’t respond to them, you just let their hands roam your body and dip between your legs. With Yūtarō holding you up, proving he can be just as strong as the other alphas in your life, he lets you drop down on his hard cock, with Akira pushing his cock right in beside his brother. They alternate between who thrusts up into you and who’s pulling out, only to push back into you. Legs spread wide open by Akira’s hands, with Yūtarō’s hands helping to lift you and up on both of their cocks, your pussy on full display for the two of them.

Sensitivity ripples through you, the sensation of being absolutely filled to the brim running over your spine as you throw your head back, on Yūtarō’s shoulder, walls clamping around their cocks as they find their own release in your sensitivity. Without the knot, they pull out to let the loads ooze from you, spilling onto Yūtarō’s lap and down the chair. “That was delicious, thank you,” Akira says, pressing a swift peck to your forehead. You still don’t say anything, moving to continue your duties around the house, legs unstable and feeling like jelly.

At the end of the day, Hajime holds you in your bed as you cry. He’s the only one who sees your discomfort, he’s the only one who lets you have a say, but you never tell him no. As the only person there for you, you find it rude to tell him no, letting his frustrations of how his undisciplined brother’s act on your poor pussy, squelching sounds and moans from your bedroom. Water clings to your hair from the shower, a daily cleanse to get rid of everyone’s seed inside you. Hajime refills you, keeping you nice and warm with his own cum, keeping you nice and folded for his cock to spread you open and his arms to keep your legs up. His knot drips from your previous releases on his cock, sending you to three orgasms before he even gets close to his own.

“I love you, I love you so much,” he murmurs, lips pressed to your cheek. You whimper out that you love him, too, you love your nii-san, your beloved big brother, but it’s quickly ruined by the squeal of pleasure as he forces his knot into your cunt, filling you out to the brim as he fills you up. Hot liquid splashed against your walls, your insides eagerly eating it up as they cream on his cock. “I love you, my precious little sister,” a kiss to your lips, loving eyes finding yours. “Don’t ever forget that you were mine first.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that’s not what you want.

[anna-justice]

like i’m gonna lose you

summary: my take on the fall out of 8x16.

read on a03 

...

“Get your hands off of me” 

Hailey stirred in her chair, her grip on Jay’s hand tightening a bit. They couldn’t bring themselves to care about appearances as they sat in the waiting room of MED, anxiously awaiting news on Kim. Hailey had dozed off on Jay’s shoulder pretty quickly, not that he minded. He was sure she had had a rough few hours, despite her vague responses. 

“You knew exactly what to expect when you came here.” 

There was a soft moan from beside him and Jay looked down to find his girlfriend’s eyebrows laced together. Her knee shook slightly, grabbing his attention. “Hailey?” He whispered, earning no response. 

“This is what it feels like.”

Hailey flinched hard in her sleep, her bottom lip beginning to quiver, Jay’s heart dropped into his stomach. She was having a nightmare. He shifted slightly, bringing his free hand to her hair and tightening his grip on her hand. “I’m here Hailes, come back to me.” He said softly in her ear as he ran his fingers through her hair. 

The movement startled her, causing her to flinch again. “I saw.” She muttered - still asleep - a stray tear falling down her cheek, “I saw-” Before Jay could react, she shot up, grabbing the attention of too many people around her. 

Jay’s hand immediately found her shoulder, “Hey, you’re good. It was just a dream, you’re safe.” He took note of the half nod she gave him, the fake smile, the way her blue eyes were clouded with tears. Hailey looked down at their intertwined hands, pulling hers close to her body. “Hailey?” He asked, a little hurt. 

She looked like she had seen a ghost, and honestly, she felt like she had. The only way to describe the feeling in the pit of her stomach was absolute terror: she was scared that Voight would walk through the sliding glass doors, she was scared of what she had become, she was scared of what Jay would think of her. She was absolutely terrified of the shell of a person he would leave behind when he finally came to his senses and walked away. “I-uh-I,” She stuttered, standing slowly, “I need some air.” She barely got the words out before running out of the building. 

Jay stood to follow her, he had always been good at giving her space, letting her handle things on her own first, but this was killing him. She was spiraling, he could see it. She had spotted it in him so many times before. He was sick of standing on the sidelines while she fought alone but she wouldn’t let him in, not this time. And as much as he wanted to be her husband, he knew the proposal was only a product of whatever the hell had happened, he just never got the chance to ask what that was. 

“I don’t want to be without you.” Hailey said, her sad eyes locked on his. He knew (or at least he thought he knew) what she was getting at. He remembered the way he felt when she was kidnapped, he remembers the panic that set in on her face when he was shot. 

Jay felt the tears forming in his own, squinting a bit. It almost wrecked him to see her like this, so scared of losing what they had. He understood, he felt the exact same way, but it was different. He knew that no one else had ever stayed for her, no one else every cared, and he was determined to be the one that did. “You’re not gonna be.” He said, because how the was he supposed to say everything that he tried to push into those 4 little words? How could he make her believe that she was it for him? 

Hailey searched his face for any sign of regret or inconsistency, but she found none. Somehow though, she still wasn’t one hundred perfect sure. She couldn’t bear to lose him, she wouldn’t survive it. How could she ever feel secure when she had so much to lose? The second the thought crossed her mind, the words tumbled from between her lips, shocking her as much as him. “Maybe we should get married.” 

Jay looked at her blankly, obviously in shock. She could see it all over his face, he couldn’t believe what she was saying, she couldn’t either. “I’m serious, let’s get married.” 

In a split second, Jay saw it all. The life they would have: the white wedding, the lazy saturdays, the holidays, the kids, the house, the dog, the years they would spend growing old together, the family trips to the cabin. He saw it all, and it was in reach. He never believed that he would could have any of it, but with Hailey, he wanted everything. He would marry her tomorrow, but not like this. Not when the love of his life was standing in front of him so broken down that the only way she thought she could keep him was through a meaningless certificate. 

Hailey watched his smile fade, causing the panic to set in. “Jay, we can elope. We don’t have to wait. We can fly to Mexico or Hawaii or anywhere. Hell let’s do it here, I just want to be with you-”

“Hailey, breathe.” He said delicately, placing his hand on her cheek to keep her grounded. He leaned in, kissing her gently before pulling away to look her in the eyes, which were focused on anything but his. “Look at me, please.” She did - reluctantly - taking a deep breath when she realized his soft smile had reappeared. “I love you. And I will love you for the rest of my life. Nothing is going to change that. All I want to do is be with you, please believe me.” 

Hailey shook her head, tears beginning to fall. “I love you so much-” 

“Baby, tell me what’s going on. I want to help. Let me help you.” He was practically begging her.

She shook her head again, “Jay,” She gasped, “I can’t. Not until you say yes. I need you-” 

Suddenly, his phone began to ring. If it was any other day, he would ignore it, but today was not any other day. “It’s Kev.” 

Jay talked quietly on the phone for a minute or two. Hailey took the time to compose herself, to prepare for the worst: the end of her relationship. By the time Jay turned back around the light in her eyes was gone and there was a fake smile on her face, one that only he could see through. “Is she okay?” Hailey asked.

“Uh yeah, he just wants us to come so that he can go switch with Adam.” Hailey nodded, grabbing her phone off the table along with her keys. He cautiously followed her to the door. “We’re gonna be okay Hailes, no matter what.” He said, knowing full and well that this conversation was far from over. 

Hailey nodded, “I know.” The left the apartment, and Hailey did her best to ignore the feeling of dread deep in her chest, but it was inescapable. No one could walk away clean from she had done, not her, not even Voight. 

Hailey leaned against the wall outside of MED, trying to catch her breath. Her heart was racing and her eyes were burning, she clenched them shut to dull the ache, but every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was a gun pointed in her face. 

“Just because your stomach can’t handle it.” 

Hailey gagged, doubling over and leaning against the concrete wall. 

“Cause you’re scared.” 

She emptied the content of her stomach into the grass, choking and coughing violently as tears continued to stream down her face. Her vision clouded again, images of Voight’s face splattered with blood as he approached her running through her head. It felt so familiar. 

Maybe it was her father’s reappearance in her life, but she felt like she was a child again. Hiding behind the couch or in her room, him screaming at her and her brothers as they ran scared. Her past was taunting her, like it was trying to prove to her that she would never be rid of it. That history would always repeat itself. 

Jay followed her, watching from the doorway as she threw up. He rushed to her, “Hailey-” His hand touched her shoulder and she gasped, pulling away quickly and facing him, her arms shielding her face. Jay took a step back, caught off guard by the terror clearly shown on her face. She was frozen, panting hard.

“I-I’m sorry-I,” She said softly, slowly bringing her hands down to her sides. Jay watched as her gaze fell to the ground, his heart dropping into his stomach. He took a cautious step forward. “I’m not, I’m not afraid of you, I-” 

Jay’s expression softened, “I know, I know. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He was hurt, sure, but this wasn’t about him. It was so much bigger than him. 

Hailey wasn’t sure what emotion was more overwhelming: the fear, the guilt or the physical pain she felt in her chest. He looked so defeated, and it was her fault. He thought she was afraid of him. 

He took another step forward, “Can I?” He motioned to his outstretched hand, holding it out to her. Hailey nodded, slipping her hand into his. He slowly pulled her into to him, her arms snaking around his waist and her cheek pressed against his chest. She took a deep breath, instantly calming her. “Hailey?” She hummed in response. “Can you please tell me what happened? You’re starting to scare me.” 

Hailey took a step back, looking him straight in the eye, memorizing the way they were looking at her, in case it was the last time they ever showed that much love. She nodded, grabbing his hand and pulling him to a bench further away from the hospital. This was the last place she wanted to tell him, but he obviously couldn’t wait any longer, he shouldn’t have to. She couldn’t be selfish with him. 

They sat down, facing each other. Hailey let her hand fall out of his, folding hers in her lap. “Voight did find a lead.” She said, shrugging. “Ruzek and I didn’t know, he gave us the legit addresses. Adam, he um, he kind of lost it so I told him to go be with Mackayla, and he did. So, I went to find Voight.” 

Jay’s eyebrows were cinched together, listening intently. “He was at some warehouse, he had Roy. I walked in and he, uh he, he pulled his gun on me.” Jay’s jaw clenched, but he kept his cool (barely), letting her continue. “He was beating information out of Roy, then you radioed that you found Kim, but-but he was going to kill him anyway. We fought.” Hailey took a breath, but continued to ramble, “I convinced him to bring him in. I wanted to do it the right way, we were going to do it the right way, like you. I wanted to do it right, like you, Jay. But then, then-then he reached for Voight’s gun and, Jay I swear he was going to shoot Voight, so I-” Hailey choked out a sob, unable to look her partner in the eye. 

Jay slid his hands in Hailey’s lap, wrapping them around hers. Hailey’s head shot up, shock written all over it, “So you shot him, to protect your Sargeant.” Jay finished for her. She risked her career to protect him even though Voight had no care for hers.

Hailey shuddered, “I promise, I tried. I told him to drop the weapon. I saw him, he had the gun in his hand. I wanted to do it right.” 

“Shhh,” Jay said, pulling her to him. “It was a good shoot Hailes, you did it right.” He held her as her tears soaked his shirt, running a hand through her hair. He was trying to soothe her, but he was seething. He couldn’t believe Voight had put her in that situation. Voight had been on the job a long time, he knew better than to come into close contact with a violent offender with an exposed weapon. 

Once he wrapped his brain around his anger, it hit him. 

“No Jay, not until you say yes.”

Hailey was scared that he would blame her, or leave her over this. He held her a little tighter, his own tears gathering in his eyes as he held her. “I love you.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

That grabbed Hailey’s attention. She peered up at him, her blue eyes filled with tears and hope. “Really?” She asked quietly, her voice breaking. 

Jay nodded, not trusting his own voice. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Hailey’s eyes fluttered closed, this time, no flashbacks plaguing her mind. His hand settled on her cheek, brushing his thumb over her cheek. Jay pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. “Really,” He whispered 

There was a cough beside them, and Jay looked up first. Hank Voight was standing before them. “How’s she doing?” He asked. 

Hailey stared at him in shock. He looked like he always did. He was no longer wearing his tactical gear and his face was no longer splattered with blood. He was Voight, like nothing had happened. For a split second Hailey envied him, his ability to walk away unscathed, like it was any other Wednesday night and the only thing wrong was Kim’s life was hanging in the balance. Then she looked at Jay, whose jaw was clenched and his eyes were stuck on sergeant. He was just as strong, maybe even stronger, and he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. If he could do it, so could she. 

Jay stood, looking like a force to be reckoned with. “You need to leave.” 

Voight scoffed, quickly glancing at Hailey, “Excuse me.” 

“You heard me Sarge, leave. Now.” Jay said. His voice staying low, but intimidating nonetheless. 

“I have a right to be here Jay, to see Burgess,” Voight said, his words becoming louder as he took a step forward. 

“Then go, be the leader you’re supposed to be, but don’t you dare go near her.” Hailey’s breath caught in the back of her throat, her heart swelling at the sight in front of her. Voight glared at Jay, nodding shortly. Jay took another step forward, so that their faces were level, “And if she is brought into this, in any way, I will bury you.” He never raised his voice, or made any move to physically escalate the situation. The last thig he wanted to do was scare Hailey more than she already was. 

“Understood,” Voight said, with a trace of venom that could have been deadly. 

They parted ways, Voight entering the hospital doors and jay turning to face his girlfriend, who had been silent. “Are you okay?” He asked. 

Hailey nodded, “Yeah, I’m okay.” She met his concerned gaze. “Thank you.” 

Jay gave her a soft smile, “Of course.” She glanced between him and the hospital doors, a nervous look on her face. Jay held out his hand, which she gladly took. “Come on, we can come back in the morning.” 

Hailey sighed in relief, standing. He guided them down the sidewalk, wrapping his arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her temple. “Let’s go home Hailes.” 

“Hold on.” Hailey said, her anxiety getting the best of her again. She turned to face him, their eyes locking. She felt tears gather in eyes once again at the look in his, the one she had memorized, that she had prayed would never disappear. She smiled as he eyed her. “Ok, I’m good.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him in the direction of his truck. “Let’s go home.” 

…

A/N: I couldn’t help myself, I had to haha. I can’t believe the premieres are only a month away! Thanks for reading <3

[pufflyhallows]

Getaway

Gif not mine

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Business is going bad after the war and Fred is not feeling so great, so you decide to cheer him up with a special trip.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, language, tiny tiny bit of angst, still fluffy tho

a/n: this is my FIRST smut EVER so... be nice? also, Fred fucking LIVES bc I’m in denial forever lol

Word count: 4,3k

********

You wanted to surprise Fred.

He had been feeling down lately. Ever since he and George reopened the shop after the war, things had been a little tough. The movement was still quite slow, given the fact that people were still recovering from the war, mourning their lost ones and starting new lives. It was a difficult time for everyone, and of course it affected Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes as well.

What ached your heart the most was the fact that there wasn’t much you could do to help him. Every day you watched as he took longer to get out of bed in the morning, how he sounded slower and quieter when talking to you and, the worst part, how he acted quite mechanic when doing his chores around the shop, the same ones he enjoyed so much in the past and had always gotten done with a bright smile on his face. And although he never stopped caring for you or being loving to you, the bedroom had become… inactive. And you missed it. You missed being intimate with your boyfriend, but every time you tried to initiate it, he would softly decline, claiming to be too tired. You believed it. You could see he was indeed exhausted. And not only physically, but mentally too. Perhaps the latter was actually the one weighing more.

George, however, was quite the opposite. He kept his optimism high and was always the first to wake up every morning, excited with the new day and new possibilities. He would often go out and promote the shop, talk to people and sometimes even manage to bring a customer in.

This big difference between them worried you. No, you did not expect the twins to act the same, but you hoped in secret that Fred would follow his brother’s steps and cheer up a bit.

Cheer up. Yeah. That was exactly what he needed. And what better way to cheer up someone than a surprise trip? That’s how you were going to take his mind off of work. With Hermione’s help, you planned a very romantic weekend trip out of town. You talked to George beforehand, of course, but he assured you he could take care of the shop by himself for two days. He agreed Fred needed this.

“It’s not like we’re getting many customers anyway,” he had said.

So, as Friday approached, you felt the excitement building up. You managed to act completely nonchalant around him, making sure he didn’t suspect a thing. It wasn’t a big, expensive hotel because you knew he would worry about money and that was the opposite of what you wanted for this trip. Hermione had helped you pick a small, comfy hotel that was quite charming and fit your pocket perfectly. You wanted to make sure Fred felt loved, cared for and relaxed. There was also a little extra surprise inside your suitcase that you really hoped he would like…

What you didn’t know was that Fred felt guilty. He reckoned he hadn’t been the boyfriend you deserved lately, but he couldn’t help it. The stress was almost eating him alive and his mind was always wandering back to the shop, worrying about its future. You had been so kind and patient with him, he knew you deserved better than that. The whole thing was snowballing and sometimes he couldn’t see it ending.

That Friday, when you got home from work, the shop was still open and there was actually a customer inside, talking with George. You felt relief wash over you, because you knew what that meant: Fred was probably in a good mood.

You walked straight to the flat, not daring to interrupt George, but you stopped in the middle of the stairs to watch. He was speaking with such enthusiasm, showing and explaining his products to the young boy, that it filled you with pride. You caught his eyes for a brief moment and noticed the smallest of smirks appear on his lips. Smiling back, you nodded at him. Fred was nowhere to be seen, though, so you went upstairs.

There was a delicious scent coming from the kitchen. The older twin was there, cooking. You smiled to yourself at the sight. His favorite The Weird Sisters record was playing somewhere in the flat, adding a familiar, comfortable feel to the whole scene. Fred’s back was facing you while he chopped… carrots? on the counter. He didn’t seem to notice your presence just yet, so you took advantage of that. Placing your bag on the nearest chair, you walked in quiet steps towards your boyfriend. The fresh mint aroma coming from him meant he had probably just showered. Oh, and how you missed showering with him.

You couldn’t refrain your smile from growing even bigger once you noticed Fred’s body was swinging from side to side, so imperceptibly that you almost missed it. Carefully, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek on his back. You felt him tense up for a mere second before realizing who it was. He soon relaxed, letting go of the knife and placing his clean hand on yours.

“Didn’t hear you coming in,” he stated, voice low and raspy.

You hummed in response and placed a soft kiss on the nape of his neck. Fred turned around and briefly met your lips with his.

“It’s gonna take a while. Why don’t you go take a bath?”

“I will,” you nodded, running your hand from his chest to his shoulder and squeezing it gently. “How was your day?”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay”, you repeated. “Well, I hope I can make it better. I have a surprise for you after dinner.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes. I have an idea of how we can spend your days off.”

“Hm… Making plans already, are we?”

“Very good plans, yes. But you’ll have to wait until dinner.”

“Or you could tell me right now so I won’t have to.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

You smirked and gave him another peck on the lips before rushing off the kitchen and leaving your boyfriend to his curiosity and imagination.

The warm bath made you think about a lot of things and you came to realize you were very lucky. The war was over and there you were, taking a bath in your boyfriend’s flat, the person you loved the most in the world. So many people lost their loved ones, their homes, their entire lives in that war. You knew you had many reasons to feel happy and should not take them for granted. Life was good for you right now, and you acknowledged it, promising to yourself that you were going to enjoy it the best you could, with Fred by your side.

George joined the two of you for dinner, which turned out to be the best you had in months. Not because of the food, although it was perfect, but because it felt like everything was back to normal, like all the meals you had shared before the war. Maybe it was the idea of a day off and the mention of a surprise from you, but you could see that Fred was already less gloomy or aloof.

After the meal, as if sensing you wanted to reveal your plans to Fred, George excused himself to his bedroom, claiming he still had to finish some work. You wished him goodnight, not missing the discrete wink he gave you.

“So…” you started, watching as Fred emptied his glass of pumpkin juice. “Remember when I said I had an idea on how to spend your days off?”

“Oh, yes. The surprise.”

“Well… I figured you could use a little rest from everything, so I made a reservation at a very nice hotel for the two of us to spend the weekend at.”

“You what?” Fred asked, a small smile starting to grace his lips.

“The portkey is set for our departure at 10 a.m. tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Nope. No buts,” you shook your head. “I have already packed our bags.”

“Y/N, doll, I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me I’m amazing, the best thing that ever happened to you, an angel sent from heaven…  Something humble like that.”

Fred chuckled, that contagious sound you missed hearing so much. “You’re amazing. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, a true angel sent from heaven.”

“I know! We’re gonna have so much fun,” you smiled excitedly, clasping your hands together.

“What exactly are your plans for us, though?” your boyfriend questioned, curiosity dripping from his lips.

“Oh, you’ll find out once we’re there.”

“The surprise doesn’t end here, I see.”

“Exactly. I have everything planned, baby.”

The look in Fred’s eyes seemed to indicate he had an idea of what you had planned, but he did not say a word about it. He would like to see the surprise reveal itself in the right moment. He wasn’t going to spoil your plans in any way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You always had your doubts when it came to ads, but this time you had to admit this was spot on. The hotel looked exactly like its pictures and descriptions.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?” the receptionist asked as soon as you stepped in the lobby.

It was something so small, so simple, but it made your heart flutter and stomach fill with those restless butterflies. Mrs. Weasley. Were you ever going to become that? You wondered if Fred even noticed the little misunderstanding.

“Um,” you cleared your throat. “Actually, it’s just one Weasley. Fred Weasley. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your slight flustered manner didn’t go unnoticed by Fred. Despite the obvious nervousness, he thought it was rather cute. In fact, he liked to hear you be called that. Perhaps he should do something about it…

“Oh, I apologize. Mr. Weasley and Miss Y/L/N,” the receptionist corrected herself as she checked the reservation’s book. “You’re right on time, your room is ready for you. I just need your wands for ID confirmation before I give you your key.”

Both of you handed your wands to the young woman behind the desk and she did as she was supposed to. Sooner than you had anticipated, you were in the lovely suite you had reserved.

Fred placed the small handbag on the bed – blessed be the extension charm, that’s all you had to carry for that trip – and walked around the room curiously. You went straight for the big window and opened the curtains. There it was. The view you had seen on the ad and that had made you instantly choose this hotel.

“Fred,” you called softly, looking behind you. “Come see.”

Your boyfriend let go of the catalog on the nightstand and approached you, eyeing the outside in awe.

“Wow,” he breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?”

When making the reservation, you were met with the question: would you like a room with view to the street/village or to the beach? And you chose the beach, although the village was a lovely sight. Now, seeing Fred’s reaction, you were absolutely sure you had made the right choice.

The hotel was in a small village where both wizards and muggles lived. With a little help from magic, the wizards could go unnoticed and the muggles lived everyday life without a single clue of the existence of such peculiar neighbors. The beach was right behind the village, and your room being in the back of the hotel, you had a wonderful privileged view of nature’s beauty.

“Wanna go down there?” you asked.

“What’s in your plans?” he asked back, switching his gaze from the window to you.

“Beach,” you replied with a small smile. “Basically the entire day at the beach, lunch at a muggle restaurant down there too. But dinner here.”

“I’ll follow your script, doll.”

Fred placed his hand on your waist and pulled you closer, pressing his lips ever so gently on yours. You instantly let go of the curtains so you could run your fingers through his soft hair. The light fabric fell back to its place, covering the windows again and leaving the room a little darker than before. Fred’s gentle kiss wasn’t so gentle anymore.

No, not yet.

You broke the kiss and pulled back, biting your lip as you started to feel that you might not be able to wait until the right time for your surprise.

“I’m starving,” you whispered against his lips.

“Me too,” he pulled you closer again.

“Let’s go, then.” You managed to get out of his embrace and grab the handbag before heading to the bathroom to change into your bathing suit.

A hungry Fred was left standing by the big window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been hard.

It had been hard seeing you in so little clothing, dripping wet, skin glistening as droplets of water reflected the sunlight. But Fred managed.

All he had in his mind every time he saw you leaving the water was how he wanted to take you then and there. He had to distract himself from those thoughts, paying attention to what you were saying but not too much to your moving lips. He knew you had something planned and he was appreciative of how much effort you had put in this weekend for him. That was the only reason he wasn’t indulging to his not-so-pure thoughts.

Lunch was a good distraction too, specially since you had to convince a muggle child she had imagined it when she saw Fred stop his falling fork mid-air.

Now, as the two of you walked hand in hand back to the hotel, he wondered if he was going to be rewarded for the self-control test he had just passed. You were humming a song as you observed the houses, trying to guess which ones were muggles and which ones were wizards.

“What’s next?” he asked.

“Dinner!” you answered excitedly. “But, if I were you, I wouldn’t go overboard.”

“Why, if I may ask?” but Fred already suspected why.

“Well… there might be plans for after dinner as well.”

Fred held your hand tighter and pulled you towards the hotel in a faster pace. You chuckled, feeling the excitement grow bigger and bigger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dessert?” the waiter asked as he took the empty plates from your table.

“No, thank you,” Fred replied before you had the chance. “We’re calling it a night, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

“Actually,” you smirked at your boyfriend before looking at the waiter. “I’d like chocolate pudding, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As soon as the waiter left, Fred gave you a look.

“What?” you asked nonchalantly.

“I thought you said we wouldn’t go overboard.”

“I’m not going overboard. I had a small plate,” you shrugged.

“Right,” Fred sighed, bouncing his leg under the table.

When your chocolate pudding came, you grabbed the spoon and took a small amount to your mouth. Fred watched your every move, arms crossed and brows slightly furrowed as he saw you slowly lick the spoon. You pretended you didn’t know he was watching, eyes on the tiny bowl in front of you, and you mouthed another spoon, unintentionally getting pudding all over your lips.

Your boyfriend gulped as he watched you run your thumb over your lower lip, getting rid of the chocolate there, and gently suck on it.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N,” he mumbled.

“Hm?” you looked at him innocently.

“Just eat the damn thing.”

“You want some?” you raised the spoon at him.

“Yes, I want some.”

You felt your cheeks burn just a little bit with his remark, heart begin to race as the ideas for what you wanted to do to him tonight started to flood your mind.

“If you wait patiently, you might get what you want,” you teased, looking back at the bowl and already serving another spoon, which you quickly brought to your lips, licking all the content off of it.

Fred shook his head, one corner of his lips going upwards ever so slightly, eyes glued on you.

“You sure you don’t want to taste it?” you offered again, lips glistening as you cleaned them with your tongue.

“I will taste it,” his eyes pierced through your body and suddenly the hotel was too hot.

You had barely served the last spoon of pudding when Fred stood up and let the waiter know you were headed to the room.

“I haven’t finished yet,” you protested and he immediately took the last spoon from your hand and into his mouth.

“Now you have,” he said as he pulled you from the chair.

The way back to the suite felt much longer than it actually was, but as soon as you reached the door, Fred’s lips were on yours. You had trouble to get the key with your boyfriend’s hands all over you, pulling your body hard against his.

“Fred,” you breathed, stepping back. “There’s another surprise.”

Before he could say anything, you unlocked the door and went inside.

“Sit down,” you slowly pushed him to the bed. “And close your eyes.”

Fred complied with no protests, but you could see he was getting flustered, probably guessing what was coming.

You blew out most of the candles illuminating the room and left only a few to create the romantic atmosphere you wanted. You went to the bathroom and changed into the expensive lacy lingerie you had bought for this exact occasion. It was red, a color you had learned Fred was very fond of when it came to this kind of clothing, and had one small, delicate bow right between your breasts.

“Are your eyes closed?” you asked from the bathroom, hand on the doorknob.

“Yeah,” you heard in response.

“No peeking ‘til I tell you to,” you warned.

“…‘kay.”

You opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. Fred was still sitting on the bed, one leg bouncing impatiently, and a slight frown between his eyebrows.

Slowly, you approached the bed and stood right in front of him.

“Open your eyes,” you whispered.

As soon as he did, Fred sucked in a shaky, quiet breath. He eyed you from head to toe, not hiding his astonishment.

“Baby,” he mumbled in a deep voice, already feeling his pants get a little too tight as his eyes still traveled through your entire figure.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“Mm-hmm,” he nodded, biting his bottom lip.

“Good,” you smiled, placing your hands on each of his shoulders. “Now let me show you how proud I am to be your girlfriend.”

Your lips met Fred’s in a slow, deep kiss as you climbed the bed and straddled him, your arms thrown around his neck. Fred let out a soft moan when he felt your weight against his lap, his hands going up your back, fingertips sending shivers down your spine as they searched for the bra clasp. However, you stopped them and placed them back on your hips.

“Not so fast,” you whispered against his lips.

Before he could protest, you kissed him again, now pushing him all the way back to lay down on the bed. Hovering above him, you started pulling up his shirt, which he quickly got rid of for you. You chuckled. Maybe you weren’t the only one who had missed this.

Now that you had free access to his torso, you began to place soft, wet kisses on his neck, slowly moving down to his chest and stomach, painfully taking your time.

You could feel Fred’s breathing get deeper and deeper as you kissed his abs, working your way down to his pants. Once there, you stopped the kisses for a brief moment, so you could focus on getting rid of that piece of fabric. Again, Fred quickly helped you out until you were both just in your underwear.

The sight sent goosebumps through your body and you inevitably bit your lower lip. He was already so hard, you felt the anticipation building up inside you.

You decided to torture him for a little bit – just a little bit – and carried on with the kisses, not taking off his underwear quite yet. However, Fred’s impatience was growing and he didn’t think he would manage to wait for too long. His hand found your hair and he started stroking it, running his fingers through it, a disguised way to guide your head to where he needed you the most. You realized his intentions, but you did not stop him. You let him take you where he wanted and soon your lips found his still covered length.

“Shit, Y/N.”

You smirked.

Slowly, you started pulling down the last piece of clothing until you completely freed him. He was so beautiful. You still had a silly smile on your face as you ran your tongue all the way up from the base to the tip, where you placed a gentle kiss. Fred’s soft moan reached your ears, a beautiful sound that made you even more wet.

You took him in your mouth and started sucking the tip in a slow, teasing pace, while your hand loosely stroked him. You didn’t want him to cum yet. You wanted him to last. And you were going to make him last.

Fred’s hand never left your hair, and he began to slightly pull it, asking for more. He needed more.

“Y/N,” he moaned. “Y/N, please.”

You ignored him and kept going in that insanely slow pace, taking your time. What was the hurry?

You heard a low groan, and felt him move his hips against you. You stopped.

“Behave yourself, Weasley.”

“Baby… Please.”

You smirked again, giving him one last stroke, and you let go of him.

Fred looked at you in a way you hadn’t seen in a while. His eyes were dark, full of pure lust. But also desperation and discontent with the sudden lack of touch.

You crawled on the bed until your face was right above his, and you kissed him. It was a deep, passionate, hurried kiss between two people who were eager for each other. This time, you didn’t stop Fred’s hands from going up your back and unclasping your bra. He took it off and you quickly felt his left hand on your right breast, squeezing it. His right hand, however, was going up and down your side, sending shivers through your bare skin. He rested it on your waist for a little bit before going down to your ass and squeezing it tightly. You moaned against his lips, your own impatience growing.

You only stopped the kiss to get rid of your panties, the last piece of fabric separating you from him.

Fred watched as you got off of him and started to pull it down your smooth legs. He could feel his cock throbbing at the sight of your completely naked body. You were breathtakingly, heart-racingly beautiful. He loved the lingerie, he really did, but he loved your body a thousand times more. And he would never get tired of looking at it.

When you straddled him again, skin to skin now, he thought he would cum right then and there. You smiled at him, that beautiful smile that never changed, and kissed him one more time. Fred placed his hands on your waist, squeezing it gently, as if to encourage you. Not wasting another second, you guided his tip to your entrance and slowly sank down on him, allowing him to get all the way inside you, quite easily given how wet you were.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he moaned.

Letting out your own whimpers, you placed your hands on his chest and started riding him, still slowly, still teasingly. Fred’s moans soon turned into groans, complaints. He was getting tired of the teasing, he was already on edge. He couldn’t take it anymore. With a swift move, Fred shifted the both of you so now he was on top. He started thrusting into you, quite roughly, earning a loud approving moan from you.

“Fred,” you gasped, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He kept going, pounding harder and harder, moaning as he did so.

You started kissing his neck, biting, sucking, anything that would leave a mark.

“Yes, baby,” you cried out as he thrusted even deeper.

The bed was making a discreet creaking sound that you weren’t sure if the people in the other rooms could hear. You hoped not, but honestly? Right now you didn’t care. The sound of Fred’s heavy breaths, moans, groans and whimpers were all you were paying attention to. Beautiful sounds that had the power to shut down anything else in your mind.

The rhythm he had created was sending you to heaven with every motion. His lips soon found your own again and he kissed you as if he hadn’t done it just minutes before.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m close.”

“Me too.”

As you felt your body tense, Fred came inside you with a low groan, slowing down just a tad bit. He kept thrusting, however, knowing you were about to reach your climax too. And not long after him, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you, and your body relaxed completely.

Both of you were panting against each other’s neck, your arms still loosely around his shoulders as he slowly pulled out and collapsed on top of you.

Hugging him more tightly, you felt Fred leave small kisses on your neck, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the extra-tingly sensation. You started to run your fingernails up and down his back, the other hand caressing his hair.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could hear the waves crashing on the beach, the giggling of children playing down there, and the muffled music coming from the muggle restaurant. You felt so at ease.

After a long moment of peaceful, comforting silence, Fred looked up and smiled. “I love you so much.”

You smiled back. “I love you too.”

Not bad for round one.

********

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 5/?)

Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU, regency-era fake-marriage shenanigan-fest, and we’ve actually gotten to the marriage part! Or, at least, the wedding.  (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3, chapter 3 tumblr | AO3, chapter 4 tumblr | AO3)

As much as this Author positively loathes to gloat, there comes a time when even the most modest among us must utter those four words everyone hates to hear: I told you so.

Both the Marquess of Enjolras and Mr. Grantaire emerged from their duel with not a scratch upon them and with the Marquess sworn to uphold the honor of Mr. Grantaire’s sister and rectify the situation he caused by joining her in matrimony. As befits the magnitude of the scandal, a special license has been purchased – for who knows what sum – so that the whole affair can be concluded before the Dowager Marchioness even has a chance to book a carriage out to the country to meet her soon-to-be daughter-in-law.

Much to the relief of both the Marquess and his fiancée, this Author presumes. 

Still, a wedding may signal an end to impropriety, but scandals are wont to continue of their own accord, especially when one can hardly imagine the Marquess settling quickly or quietly into married life. A storm is brewing, one way or another, but rest assured, Dear Reader – this Author will be here to cover whatever may come next. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 6 MAY 1831

Enjolras hated to admit it, but he was nervous.

He really hadn’t thought he was going to be, but as he stood at the front of the small, unassuming chapel dressed in the best clothes he could purchase on a moment’s notice from the village, his stomach felt like it was doing somersaults somewhere around his knees, and his palms were sweating so much that he was tempted to wipe them on his trousers.

Perhaps nerves were to be expected. After all, it wasn’t everyday that he got married.

Granted, the wedding itself was going to be a simple affair, just Enjolras with Madame Hucheloup in front of the vicar, whom Enjolras had met once, briefly, the prior day and who had been as drunk as Grantaire had promised, so much so that when Grantaire told him that Enjolras would be marrying his sister, the man did not even hesitate, despite presiding over her burial some two decades prior. He seemed equally drunk that morning, swaying slightly as he hummed off-key, waiting for the ceremony to start.

Joining Enjolras and his not-so-blushing fake bride would be Grantaire and Le Cabuc as witnesses, with only the four of them any wiser to the fact that the entire thing was a farce. Then the only final piece of the puzzle was getting a suitable dowry from Grantaire to give to his mother, and then, finally, Enjolras would be free.

Well, free until such a time came as when he would need to ‘bury’ his fake wife, but that was a future problem, and one he was not inclined to think too closely about at the moment.

Especially when he had much bigger concerns: particularly, the fact that Grantaire and Madame Hucheloup were running late.

He glanced over at Le Cabuc, who looked almost bored, and chanced a look back at the vicar, who didn’t seem at all concerned with the fact that time was stretching on and there was no sight of either of them. Enjolras was just about to excuse himself to go track down Grantaire and Madame Hucheloup himself when the woman in question appeared in the back of the parish, out of breath and – far more concerning – dressed in her usual clothes and not the wedding dress that Enjolras had dutifully purchased to continue the façade, clutching a valise assumedly containing other clothes.

Enjolras frowned and hurried to intercept her. “Beg pardon,” she said breathlessly, her face flushed red as if she had run the entire way from the house. “But there’s been a change.”

“A change?” Enjolras repeated, stupidly. “What kind of change?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Himself is on his way, he’ll explain everything.”

Enjolras would have much preferred that she explain, but given that she looked like she was about to topple over at any given moment, he supposed the polite thing to do was to walk her to a seat before heading to the back of the chapel to await Grantaire and whatever explanation he brought.

So he did just that, depositing her in a chair before hurrying to the chapel door to intercept Grantaire and find out just what explanation he could possibly—

He stopped in his tracks at the sight of Grantaire hurrying towards him, dressed not in his Sunday best as was anticipated but rather wearing, of all the garments in the world, the wedding dress.

Enjolras was certain his mouth fell open as he stared at Grantaire, temporarily unable to speak. There was a very small, distracted part of his brain that noticed that despite the dress not having been tailored for him by any stretch, it somehow fit Grantaire rather pleasingly.

He shook his head to clear it of that thought and wrenched his mouth open. “What in the bloody hell—”

“Language,” Grantaire chided, sounding stressed as he finally arrived at the door. “We are on consecrated ground, after all.”

It was a patently absurd thing to say, and accounted for Enjolras spluttering in response, “Yes, we are, so perhaps you can explain what in God’s name you’re wearing?!”

Grantaire drew himself up to his full height and scowled at Enjolras. “I’m wearing a wedding dress,” he said. “As for the reason I am wearing said wedding dress, which I believe is more to the point of what you’re asking, you should know. You’re the one who helped pass the damned thing.” Enjolras stared blankly and Grantaire elaborated, “The law was updated recently, requiring one male and one female witness for any nuptial ceremony.”

Enjolras had a sudden, horrible memory of celebrating a law passed through the House of Lords that was meant to help keep young women from being forced into marriage with their father and brother as the sole witnesses, an all-too-common occurrence. Granted, the efficacy of the law remained to be seen, since too many mothers were frequently willing to go along with such plans, but it was a start, and—

He shook his head to clear it. “And so Madame Hucheloup needs to be one of the witnesses,” he said instead, finally putting together the pieces to which Grantaire had been alluding in his usual, maddening way.

“Well, I thought about simply making up a woman’s name and forging the signature on the certificate,” Grantaire said, “but seeing as how I rather suspect that this particular marriage certificate will face more scrutiny than most, it didn’t seem a particularly wise course of action.”

Grantaire was almost certainly correct about that, but still Enjolras felt something like despair. “Was there no other woman that you could get to be a witness?” he asked, a bit desperately.

“Another woman whom I trust with my reputation, and far more importantly, with yours?” Grantaire asked, arching an eyebrow. “At this late of date?”

“Then someone who would pretend to be a bride for the day?”

Enjolras knew it was an idiotic question the moment he blurted it, and the look Grantaire gave him reinforced as such. “If I would not trust them to be a witness, what makes you think I would trust them to exchange marriage vows with you? Even if using a false name, I know not the legal ramifications and I would not have someone trying to take you for all your worth.” Enjolras blinked, fleetingly touched by the lengths to which Grantaire seemed determine to go to protect him – or at the very least, to protect his estate. “No, that was not an option. Meaning the only option available to us—”

“—Is you wearing the dress and pretending to be the bride.”

Grantaire grinned at him. “Personally, I think it looks quite fetching on me.”

As if to illustrate his point, he ran a hand down the bodice of the gown, a hand that Enjolras could not help but follow with his eyes as it skimmed the creamy fabric that dipped and clung in all the right places— “That is hardly the point,” he snapped, tearing his eyes away.

“No, the point is that the vicar, drunk though he inevitably is, will start asking questions soon, so it’s best we get this over with as soon as possible,” Grantaire said bluntly, his smile disappearing.

When he later thought about it, Enjolras could come up with no rational explanation for what possessed him to say it, but somehow, he found himself scoffing, “Quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Romance?” he repeated, exasperated. “Is now really—” He broke off without warning, and Enjolras was surprised to see his expression soften as he looked up at Enjolras. “Enjolras,” Grantaire said quietly, the exasperation gone from his voice and replaced by something gentle, something entirely unfamiliar that Enjolras could not quite put a name to. “What there is between us is the stuff of fairytales, of legend. What Helen felt for Paris, or Samson for Delilah, pales in comparison to the depths of my feelings for you, and were I to search every corner of this world I know that there is no one with whom I would rather share the remainder of my days. Will you do me the honor of joining me at the altar and becoming my husband?”

Enjolras couldn’t help himself – he snorted a laugh. “Very well, I suppose I deserved that,” he said briskly. “But I do hope you manage to find some actual sincerity when saying your vows, or even the vicar might realize this is a farce.”

He offered his arm to Grantaire, who took it after settling his veil over his face so that not even Enjolras could read his expression. “I’m beginning to think you wouldn’t know sincerity if it were to bite you in the—”

“Shh,” Enjolras hissed, and for once in his life, Grantaire fell silent as the two of them traversed the short aisle to take their place at the front of the chapel.

“Ah,” the vicar said, smiling at them both. “Welcome, welcome. We are gathered here today, in the sight of God and—” The vicar let out a loud hiccup and Enjolras bit his lip hard enough to almost draw blood to keep from laughing. He glanced sideways at Grantaire, but couldn’t tell if the man was as amused as he. “—and the witnesses gathered here,” the vicar continued, “to watch as the Marquess of Enjolras and the, er, the…”

He trailed off, clearly casting about for the proper title for Grantaire’s sister, and even though he could not see Grantaire’s face, Enjolras could clearly tell that he was rolling his eyes. “Mistress,” Enjolras supplied helpfully, as it seemed the most appropriate title.

“Yes, that,” the vicar said, nodding at him, continuing without pause, “and Grantaire join together in the bonds of Holy Matrimony. You may face each other and recite your vows.”

Enjolras obediently turned to face Grantaire, hesitating before reaching forward to lift the veil from Grantaire’s face as was tradition. After all, with the vicar no longer facing him head on, it seemed doubtful he would notice that the features underneath were decidedly male.

Grantaire arched an eyebrow as Enjolras lifted his veil, but luckily, made no comment, simply reaching out with his lace gloved hands to take Enjolras’s in his own.

The detour from traditional vows had been Enjolras’s only insistence when planning the ceremony, and he was doubly glad he had insisted on it now, since he was not certain that he would make it through if he had to make the usual promises of honoring and cherishing to Grantaire, especially with Grantaire looking at him like that. Instead, he had opted for seven simple words borrowed from the rather utilitarian vows made by some medieval French men upon joining their households in common purpose with each other.

“Un pain, un vin, et une bourse,” Enjolras said, the meaning as simple as the words themselves: one bread, one wine, and one purse, the three things he and Grantaire would now share, bonded as they were by this ceremony.

Grantaire tilted his head slightly, a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He had told the vicar that his sister would opt for equally simple vows, and had assured Enjolras that Madame Hucheloup would not surprise him. But Madame Hucheloup did not stand across from him now, and Enjolras knew without any doubt that Grantaire was going to say something else entirely, and he half-dreaded what words would possibly come out of Grantaire’s mouth. “Une vie et un amour,” Grantaire pronounced, and Enjolras was surprised that the breath seemed to catch in his throat at the simple words, an answer and a challenge to his own.

One life and one love.

Well, he had been the idiot who had asked for some semblance of romance.

The vicar was saying something else, but Enjolras seemed to have temporarily lost his ability to hear, staring still at Grantaire, at that small smile still on his face, trying to figure out why or how he suddenly had the urge to lean in and kiss that smile off of his face.

Without warning, the vicar cleared his throat loudly and Enjolras jumped before glancing almost guiltily back at him, but if the vicar noticed, he gave no indication of it, simply intoning, “What the Lord has brought together, let no man tear asunder. By the power vested in me by the King and by the Lord our God, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss—” 

The words weren’t even out of his mouth before Enjolras had leaned in to press his lips against Grantaire’s.

It was over almost as quickly as it had happened, Enjolras pulling away before his brain had time to process what had just happened, or what he had just done, and he felt stricken as he scanned Grantaire’s face, looking for some reassurance that he had not made a grave error.

But Grantaire’s face was entirely unreadable as he reached up to again cover his face with his veil before turning back to the vicar, who was smiling at them both in a sort of genial, patronizing way that for some inexplicable reason infuriated Enjolras. Or perhaps it was just that Grantaire had dropped his hands and turned away.

Either way, as the vicar completed his benediction, Grantaire finally turned back to Enjolras, leaning in to tell him in an undertone, “Madame Hucheloup brought some clothes for me. I’m going to change and then we can return home.”

Enjolras nodded dumbly, tempted to ask how they would explain the sudden disappearance of Enjolras’s bride to any onlookers or the vicar himself, but decided it was not worth it. Especially since the vicar took his leave immediately upon the conclusion of the ceremony, mumbling something about being thirsty as he staggered past Enjolras and Grantaire, assumedly heading back to the rectory.

 As Grantaire disappeared somewhere to assumedly change, Enjolras felt slightly aimless, milling about the chapel with nothing really to do besides sign the paperwork, which took about twenty seconds. Without any better option, he approached Madame Hucheloup, whom he reasoned had undoubtedly seen her share of weddings. “I beg your pardon for not asking sooner,” he started, “but is there something I’m meant to be doing for this?”

“Other than standing up at the altar as you just did?” she asked with a smile. “No, m’lord. Ordinarily you’d be greeting guests and such, and overseeing – which is to say, and begging your pardon for wording it such, paying for – the wedding feast, but seeing as how you’ll not be having any festivities…” She trailed off and shrugged. “Other than that, you’d be planning the honeymoon trip, I suppose, but again, I’m not sure what you and Himself have got planned there.”

She gave Enjolras a look that he couldn’t quite interpret and he shrugged as well. “Nor do I, I suppose,” he told her with a tight smile. “Very well. Thank you for your help. You and Le Cabuc can return to the manor if you’d like – Grantaire and I will be along soon enough.”

Enjolras wasn’t entirely sure he had any real authority to give orders to Grantaire’s household staff, but neither Madame Hucheloup nor Le Cabuc complained at the dismissal, simply taking their leave – and leaving Enjolras by himself and feeling, quite possibly, more aimless than before.

While his nerves earlier had been expected, this inexplicable feeling of being unmoored was not. Frankly, as the marriage and the wedding to precede it were both shams, he hadn’t expected to feel anything more than slightly embarrassed at the whole process. But embarrassment was really the furthest thing from his mind as he thought about how he had felt standing in front of the vicar with Grantaire.

It should have felt even more of a farce than just the fake wedding itself, exchanging wedding vows with a man. At the very least, he was fairly certain it was a sacrilege, or making a mockery of the sacrament itself.

And yet, it hadn’t felt that way.

Enjolras had never pondered his nuptials save as a thing to be dreaded, had never pictured himself facing some faceless woman and binding himself to her, so he had no frame of reference for how others might have anticipated feeling, but he wondered if others also discovered upon their wedding day that it just felt...right. Like something he was meant to do.

Were he more inclined toward the philosophical, he might’ve wondered if there was a deeper meaning he should be reading into that, or if this should inspire some deeper questions about fate or predestination, but Enjolras had never been one for such discussions, preferring to focus on the here and now, the tangible ways in which he could affect change. And he did not dwell on them now, instead shaking his head once more to clear it of errant thoughts before going to find Grantaire to see what could possibly be taking him so long to get changed.

He did not find him at all in the chapel and was about to give up and head back to the house alone when he caught sight of a lone figure standing out in the small cemetery next to the chapel. Even without being able to make out any of his features, he could tell it was Grantaire, and he frowned slightly before heading over to join him.

“Grantaire?” he called when he finally drew close, and Grantaire looked up, startled.

“My apologies,” he said, something like guilt flashing across his face. “I completely forgot I had offered to walk back up with you.”

Enjolras’s frown deepened, because something about Grantaire seemed off. Not just that he was back in his usual clothes, though that was certainly a brief disappointment to Enjolras, but something about the set of his shoulders and the tired look on his face. He glanced at the small, unadorned stone Grantaire stood in front of, sudden realization hitting as he read the name: Adélaïde Grantaire.

“My sister,” Grantaire said, unnecessarily. “I just wanted a moment with her. She—” His voice broke and he coughed, once, as if to try to hide it. “She would have been greatly amused by today, I think.”

“The idea of you in a wedding dress?” Enjolras guessed, aiming for levity.

But Grantaire shook his head. “The idea of me getting married at all, really,” he said with a short, dry laugh. “We used to joke about it, her and I, when we were small. She told me that a handsome prince would come along and save her from her suffering, and I would tease that I would marry a handsome prince, too, and we would be princesses together.” He shook his head again, but fondly this time. “Hence why she would get great amusement at my marrying a Marquess in her name.” His smile faded. “Sadly, there was no prince in this or any land who could have saved her, no matter how many stars she wished upon.”

Enjolras bowed his head in understanding. “May I ask how she died?” he asked quietly, hoping Grantaire would not think he was intruding. He had refused to talk about his sister earlier, but Enjolras felt like something had changed between them and he might be willing to say a bit more.

Grantaire just shrugged. “She was very ill for much of our childhood,” he said matter-of-factly. “She and my mother were stricken with fever at her birth – my mother succumbed to it. Adélaïde got better, so to speak, but she was never truly healthy. Then when she was nine…” He trailed off before taking a deep, shuddering breath. “It was quick, at least, in the end. Which was a comfort in its own way.”

Enjolras wished he had some eloquent words of comfort to offer, but he felt tongue-tied instead. So in lieu of words, he reached out and gently rested his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder, squeezing it once before letting it fall back to his side. Then he cleared his throat. “So she wanted to be saved from illness...what did you hope your handsome prince would save you from?”

“My father.” Grantaire flinched, whether from the words or from the memories they stirred. “He...he did not like me much. He was mostly indifferent to Adélaïde, but he seemed to find fault with everything I did.”

“He beat you.”

Enjolras said the words evenly, but his vision seemed to flash red in front of his eyes at the thought. Any parent hitting their child was a heinous thought, but for some reason, the idea of Grantaire as a child making desperate wishes to escape with his ill sister made his blood boil.

“Well, he rarely carried it out himself, but yes,” Grantaire said, his tone turning matter-of-fact again “And after she died, it got worse. Thankfully, when I went off to school, he was stationed abroad, and has never returned.” He snorted a humorless laugh. “God only knows how disappointed he would be if he could see me today, but I think he and I are both content to pretend the other does not exist.”

Enjolras was not so content, knowing that there was a man out there somewhere with such little regard for his own son, and it took him a moment before he could manage a response. “If he ever comes back, I’ll kill him.”

Grantaire looked sharply at him, searching his expression for a moment before his own softened. “A noble offer, but I don’t think we’re in much danger of that happening.” He nudged Enjolras lightly with his elbow. “Thank you, though.”

“It is the least I can do...as your husband.” Grantaire laughed and Enjolras hesitated before adding, “I promise this arrangement involving your sister, and now you, I suppose, will be only temporary. As soon as everything is handled with my mother, I will find us both a way out of this so that you can return to your memories of her in peace.”

Grantaire shook his head. “I rather wish you wouldn’t,” he said, as if confessing a secret. “It’s been surprisingly pleasant, sharing a devious plot with you. And...sharing this part of myself with someone as well.” He gestured towards his sister’s grave before giving Enjolras a hesitant smile. “Besides, I’m certain our friends would hate for us to return to our usual animosity.”

“Our friends can adjust,” Enjolras muttered.

Grantaire laughed again. “Even so,” he said, before adding, with a beatific smile and a fluttering of his eyelashes in what he clearly deemed an alluring way, “Besides, you can’t be rid of me so quickly. After all, we haven’t even had a chance to have our wedding night yet.” Enjolras blanched and Grantaire laughed once more. “Now come, it’s time we returned to the house before Madame Hucheloup sends a search party after us.”

They started off together, silence stretching between them for a few minutes before Enjolras remarked, off-handedly, “Do you know, I believe that was the first time you’ve called me by my name.”

Grantaire frowned. “When?”

“When you were doing your little mocking proposal.” Enjolras gave him a look. “Normally you call me ‘my lord’ or ‘Apollo’ or some other asinine nickname.”

“I’m sure I have called you by your name before,” Grantaire scoffed, but he didn’t quite meet Enjolras’s eyes when he said it.

Enjolras wanted to counter that, and drag the matter into their usual bickering as a way to pass the time, but something caused him to hold his tongue. And as they made their way back up to the manor, he could not help but notice that the time passed just as easily in companionable silence, and that their hands kept brushing against each other as they walked.

[onceupona-chaos]

Shackles and bridges: SJM and the mating bond

I know there are a lot of posts about this, but I wanted to do one myself, so here we go.

DISCLAIMER: This is my interpretation as someone who is a very new member of this fandom and has more contact with “common readers”, since I was one myself until a couple of months ago. Everything here is based on textual evidence and my experience as an avid reader, so take a step back from any ship. But I will talk about the probability of a rejected mating bond, so if that's not your cup of tea, be warned. English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes.

Be kind!

Also, minor spoiler for CC.

The mating bond is the most important element in SJM’s books and it's present in most of the main endgame couples. Aelin and Rowan, Feyre and Rhys, Nesta and Cassian, for example.

It’s described as this precious, sacred bridge between souls - or is it?

SJM is a very formulaic writer. We can draw several parallels with her writing, due to the way she structures her scenes and chooses her words.

We saw this explicitly with Nesta and Cassian in the Solstice scene, which is very similar to the one between Feyre and Rhysand: an emotional discussion, kissing tears away, lovemaking with “say it” and “you’re mine”, mating bond glowing between them, on and on.

Different characters, but same scenario, same process, same wording, almost the same scene.

However, considering that every mated couple until now ends up together HEA, I have the feeling that SJM is starting to explore the mating bond in different ways, otherwise every one of her books would be too… similar? In a way that the reader wouldn’t be surprised anymore, it would be the same story over and over.

To the ones who are faithful to those characters and to her books (her fans), this isn’t exactly a problem, but we have to consider the other readers as well, the bigger audience (SJM sold millions of copies, so not everyone who reads her books is engaged online).

For that exact reason, to approach a narrative element in a different way is very common among writers.

I’ll give you an example with Cassandra Clare and the parabatai bond (SPOILERS from TDA): the parabatai bond is an oath between friends who swear to protect each other. In TMI and TID, we have this bond between friends (Jace and Alec/ Will and Jem) that are almost brothers. However, in TDA, we have two parabatai (Julian and Emma) falling in love with each other, which is extremely forbidden.

The different ways a writer can approach the same elements are important to keep the readers engaged - not the reader who is a fan, but especially the occasional reader. Otherwise, it would be the “if you’ve read one, you’ve read them all” kind of thing, which is no bueno.

With that in mind, I really think SJM is starting to explore/ approach different sides of the mating bond.

Mate—not husband. The Fae had mates: an unbreakable bond, deeper than marriage, that lasted beyond death. (Heir of Fire/ ToG)

“But if they’re blessed, they’ll find their mate—their equal, their match in every way. High Fae wed without the mating bond, but if you find your mate, the bond is so deep that marriage is … insignificant in comparison.”

Another proof that SJM is formulaic: in both ToG and ACOTAR, the bond is presented for the first time in comparison to marriage, as something deeper and sacred.

However, Bryce, main character of CC (SJM book published before ACOSF), looks at it very differently:

“And at least he’s not some psychotic alphahole who will demand a three- day sex marathon and then call me his mate, lock me in his house, and never let me out again.” Which was why Reid—human, okay-at-sex Reid—was perfect.

This is such a contrast. To Bryce, the mating bond would take her freedom away (keep that in mind).

I’m not saying Bryce won’t have a mate or anything like that, but we don’t start reading CC with the same vision about the mating bond presented in the other books: a sacred bond, deeper than marriage. Bryce couldn’t care less about that, not once she wondered if Hunt is her mate.

Therefore, I don’t think SJM finally writing a different story about the mating bond so unthinkable. On the contrary, we see writers doing that all the time.

Also, I’m not saying Elain will reject it, but SJM is not only approaching the mating bond in different ways now, but she already structured a very solid base for a mating bond rejection to happen if she wants to:

ACOWAR

“You said your mother and father were wrong for each other; Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.” I peeled off my dressing robe. “So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. What if”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

“A mating bond can be rejected”.

SJM already wrote a whole scene to explain the mating bond and how, for some people, is not this sacred thing and it can be rejected. Not only that, she directly approached that Elain could reject it if she wanted to, and that scene involved Lucien and Azriel.

“You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?”

“It means nothing,” Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—”

“You belong to him.”

“I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.“

Also in ACOWAR, Elain makes herself very clear: she would have ignored/ rejected the mating bond right there if Graysen still wanted a future with her, because she loved him. She would have chosen to follow her heart without hesitation.

The funny thing is that Azriel - Elain's current love interest - never saw that scene, never saw how Elain vigorously rejected Lucien for someone she loved or the way Graysen rejected her (I’ll leave this information to you).

ACOFAS

Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them.

“And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

“No.” I blinked.

Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.”

Months go by and Elain is still uncomfortable with the bond.

ACOSF

“I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.

Her brown eyes were wary. Usually, that look was reserved for Lucien.

Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

At this point, it’s clear: the question "what if the Cauldron was wrong?" didn’t come out of nowhere, not only for Azriel, but in the narrative as well.

SJM had been slowly hinted at for three books now. I know she can change her mind, but if she wants to write about it, she made sure to write the perfect opportunity:

SJM already wrote a scene about the possibility of Elain rejecting the bond, that involved Elain, Lucien and Azriel, so it’s not coming from nowhere;

Lucien compared how different Elain is from the female who he had really loved;

They are both uncomfortable around each other;

Elain is romantically interested in someone else, who was part of that scene back in ACOWAR when we were presented to the possibility;

This someone else (Azriel) is interested in her;

SJM made sure to tie the romantic plot (Elain’s mating bond) with a political plot (Blood Duel);

The political plot is connected to the overarching plot (Autumn Court, Beron and Eris/ Koschei);

Mostly important: Elain is showing for three books that she doesn't want the bond;

"I don't want a mate. I don't want a male."

She literally said that with all the letters.

We can see this dichotomy between shackles (no freedom) x bridge (a connection) regarding Lucien as well.

"(Jesminda) She had chosen him. Elain had been … thrown at him."

He said that Elain had been thrown at him and also that they were shackled.

“Give her time to accept it.”

“To accept a life shackled to me?” (ACOFAS)

And then right in the next book (ACOSF) we have this:

“Well, I didn’t have a choice in being shackled to you, either.”

The declaration slammed into her. Shackled.(…)

Shackled.

Words beckoned, sharp as knives, begging for her to grab one and plunge it into his chest. Make him hurt as much as that one word hurt her.

SJM emphasized what that one word meant by repeating it and using italics. It’s another side of a mating bond: not a bridge of connection, but shackles with no freedom, no choice.

If Nesta was that hurt when Cassian (someone she loves) said that he didn’t get a choice in being "shackled” to her, can you imagine how is it for Elain and to actually have this bond with someone she don't love? And to Lucien as well?

The thing is in terms of storytelling, and by that I mean the plot, it’s undeniable that we already have everything that’s necessary to approach the matter of the mating bond in a way the reader has never seen before.

It’s a huge possibility, one that would make the regular readers interested (we have to remember that, not everyone who reads those books is engaged. They read them when it’s appealing).

If you want to look deeper, we can see little clues that point to that narrative path, too:

Elain shall wed for love and beauty.

The bond Elain had chosen.

Elain cut in sharply, “I am not a child to be fought over.”

Now, why hasn't Elain rejected the bond?

Because a writer doesn’t waist a good plot like that. Simple as that.

Let me tell you: SJM won’t waist that plot because a part of the fandom doesn’t like Elain, because 1) the online fandom itself is just a part of the readers; 2) inside the online fandom there are people who dislike Elain, who are neutral about her and people who like her; 3) SJM already know some people hate Elain, otherwise she wouldn’t have wrote this:

You think Elain is boring?

I think she’s kind, I’ll take kindness over nastiness any day. But I also think we haven’t seen all she has to offer yet.

SJM already told us she likes to write about disliked characters. She will write the story she wants to write and ACOSF is the major proof of that. If it’s a rejection or not, only she knows, everything could happen.

But SJM has been writing about mating bonds for years, do you really think the first time we get to see a rejection it would be for someone else’s POV? Or in a minor plot as if it isn’t a big deal? Especially when this rejection is directly related to a political plot and to the overarching plot?

No, not when SJM has enough material to write 700 pages and more, not when she has the opportunity to make a whole book out of this, one that is something entirely new for the reader, not when SJM built the perfect opportunity herself.

[sirikenobi12]

Dear Mr. Filoni: About Qui-Gon Jinn

Mr. Filoni, I know you are pretty much the undisputed Padawan of George Lucas, but like many students they can sometimes misunderstand their teachings or interpret things from a certain point of view. While I won’t deny you are a brilliant creator who have brought us some amazing Star Wars content you said something a little while back about Qui-Gon Jinn that I think is rather nearsighted and in my opinion incorrect.

“And with the death of Qui-Gon Jinn, Anakin loses the father figure who truly could have understood him – and maybe prevented what was to come.”

This implies several things, the first is that Anakin never had a father figure in his life. Or, rather that he lost the father figure he truly needed. In many ways this is implying that if someone grows up without a father (or a traditional father figure) then they are missing out or won’t have a stable childhood. What about all the people who are raised by single mothers or grandparents or aunts/uncles or by their older siblings? 

Pixar’s Onward is a great example of finding a father figure through an older brother, it highlights that just because Ian never had a chance to meet his father didn’t mean that he lost out on a father figure in his brother Barley. 

“I never had a dad, but I always had you.”

Saying that Anakin lost the father figure who truly could have understood him also just spits in the face of a young man who also lost his father figure in that moment and gave up everything to raise Anakin. 

Let’s unpack that a little bit. Imagine if you will you’re twenty-five years old, you’ve worked your ENTIRE life for a particular goal which is to be a Jedi Knight, traveling the galaxy doing the most good that you can while discovering who you are on your own. Then maybe down the road when you are ready to settle down and possibly train/raise an apprentice you’ll take one on. Suddenly the only father you’ve ever known pushes you aside for a child he’s just met (without even discussing it with you first) and then uses his last words to push this child on you, making him your responsibility, thus shattering your chance at the freedom of a true Knighthood. 

By all rights Obi-Wan could’ve given Anakin’s training over to the Council, the boy was in no way his responsibility. Much like an adult sibling doesn’t have to take on the responsibility of raising their minor siblings if their parents die, they could give the children over to the state and have a chance at a normal young adulthood instead of being thrust into being a parent before they are ready. But, Obi-Wan didn’t do that because he A.) Respected/loved Qui-Gon too much not to fulfill his final wishes, and B.) Knew it would be better for Anakin to take the boy under his wing. 

I will say this until I am blue in the face: OBI-WAN WAS A FATHER TO ANAKIN!! 

In fact, in Episode 2 Anakin refers to him as a father/father figure multiple times and it is clear their relationship while Anakin was a Padawan was that of a Father/Son. It isn’t until Anakin is knighted and they are peers that you see their relationship shift to that of brothers.  

Am I saying that Obi-Wan didn’t make mistakes when raising Anakin? Absolutely not, but would I argue that Anakin was missing out on a father figure because Qui-Gon died? No, I would not. 

The second part of that quote claims that Qui-Gon Jinn could’ve been someone who understood Anakin and might’ve been able to prevent what was to come. I 100% believe that would not have happened, while I think Qui-Gon Jinn is a very interesting character there is no indication in either canon or legends that he would’ve been a good influence on Anakin. In fact, quite the opposite. Here are the top ten reasons Qui-Gon would’ve been a terrible father influence for Anakin: 

1. Qui-Gon Jinn thinks the rules don’t apply to him: While many fans applaud Qui-Gon (including apparently you, Mr. Filoni) for going against the Jedi Council and being a “Maverick” I would argue that more often than not it was to his or his mission’s detriment. This is not to advocate that the Council was 100% correct or that Jedi shouldn’t question things, but there is a difference between questioning authority figures and flat out being obstinate. This is something Anakin excels at even with being raised by the rule abiding Kenobi, imagine how bad it would’ve been had Jinn raised him.

2. Qui-Gon Jinn was selfish: There are several examples of Qui-Gon using the guise of “the will of the Force” in order to get his way. Are we honestly supposed to believe that somehow this one man was more in tune with the Force than any other Jedi (including 12 powerful Jedi who were on the Council)?? And, if he truly believed in following the will of the Force then why did he constantly bend the rules to make sure the “Force” went his way - an example of this is had he actually believed it was the will of the Force that he free Anakin, he wouldn’t have had to make the chance cube go the way he wanted it to go. He flat out cheated so he could get his way.  

3. Qui-Gon was dangerously reckless: Many Jedi are reckless, even Obi-Wan said to Yoda in ESB “so was I if you’ll remember”. But Qui-Gon was reckless in ways that was pretty astounding. For example, EVERYONE told him that his plan to get off of Tatooine was dangerous and frankly stupid. Couldn’t they have just sold the Naboo ship and then purchased a clunker that would get them to Coruscant? Honestly, that would’ve probably hidden them better from the Trade Federation in the long run...but no, he instead decided the best course of action was to put a slave child in mortal danger, thus also placing all of their lives in the hands of a boy who had NEVER won a race before. Now, it ended up working in his favor, but even still those few days spent fixing up Anakin’s pod and then the race itself delayed the Queen from getting to Coruscant which meant more people died on Naboo all because Qui-Gon refused to see any other solutions. 

4. Qui-Gon was often a bully: our Maverick had no problems throwing his weight around to get what he wanted. The Council meeting with Anakin is a perfect example, he didn’t get the answer he wanted. So he put his hands on his hips and refused to leave the room until the Council caved to his demands. Another example of this is in Claudia Grey’s Master & Apprentice where he refuses to do his duty as a Jedi and fulfill the mission simply because he had a vision. He doesn’t discuss this with the Council or with Obi-Wan beforehand, he just decides for himself this is how it’s going to be and then throws a hissy-fit when he doesn't get his way. Or how about he is the one who cheated to get his way in winning Anakin and when Watto calls him out he threatens to get the Hutts involved? He just bullies his way to getting what he wanted.

  5. Qui-Gon never saw the bigger picture: Master Jinn’s whole thing is to focus on the here and the now, and while that’s great advice (especially for Obi-Wan who often looks too far a head) it also means that Qui-Gon often misses the big picture. An example of this is in the book Master & Apprentice where he wants to free the slaves on Pijal’s moon, but Yoda has to remind him that there is a bigger picture and they can only act if it’s in their mandate. He says this not because the Council doesn’t want to free slaves, but because there are incredibly complex consequences and if they were to just do whatever they wanted/could do as Jedi it would cause all kinds of issues for others and while he could maybe free a handful of slaves now it would cause countless others to suffer in the long run. But, Qui-Gon wouldn’t accept this, because he refused to see the bigger picture - he refused to look at anything except what was right in front of him.

6. Qui-Gon has a history of failing his Apprentices: Now, I know this isn’t Canon at the moment, but by the time we make it to TPM Qui-Gon has already done severe damage to 2 former Padawans, and is in danger of having history repeat itself. Xanatos was his second Apprentice right before Obi-Wan, and this Padawan was extremely powerful and Qui-Gon insisted he be trained, but the boy fell to the darkside because he had been too old to start training and had a healthy attachment to his family (sound familiar?). Qui-Gon was so devastated by his fall that he went back and reputed his first apprentice, Feemor, claiming he was such a failure of a Master that there is no way his first apprentice should’ve been knighted. He basically in his grief pushed aside an apprentice who while on paper wasn’t anything special, but was kind and dutiful and a true Jedi (sound familiar?). He then begrudgingly takes on Obi-Wan (only after 12 year old Obi-Wan offers to kill himself to save others) and then time and time again tries to basically pawn off Obi-Wan onto someone else (even as far into their relationship as the Master & Apprentice book). Then, when it finally looks like the Kenobi/Jinn team have figured out how to work well together Qui-Gon has to literally be reminded that his Obi-Wan even exists because Qui-Gon is so blinded by Anakin’s power!! How in any way does this seem like a better father figure option for the emotionally needy Anakin?

7. Qui-Gon Jinn has a history of Attachments: The specific example I have is again from Legends, but it shows how Qui-Gon allowed attachments to become dangerous. He had a childhood friend who he fell in love with, they decided that they could handle being committed to each other as well as the Order so they “pledged themselves” to one another (my guess is basically this is like a Jedi marriage so to speak). Sounds beautiful right, and it is, but...But his love interest Tahl was injured on a war torn planet where the children are so sick of their parents' civil war that they form a third army and go to war against the adults. Tahl is caught in the middle of this and is gravely injured. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are sent to rescue her, and Obi-Wan is sickened by the sight of children fighting and wants to stay and help, but Qui-Gon is so blinded by his attachment for Tahl that he for the first time EVER actually follows his mandate and tells Obi-Wan that they weren’t sent there to help the children, but to rescue Tahl. Obi-Wan who is only 13 doesn’t understand so instead of taking the time to really explain it, Qui-Gon just LEAVES his young apprentice behind on a war torn planet. Now, I’ll admit that Qui-Gon did give Obi-Wan a choice, to come back to Coruscant or to stay and fight, thus leaving the Jedi Order and Obi-Wan did make the choice to stay. But, it was Qui-Gon’s responsibility as the teacher to fully explain the situation to Obi-Wan and let him know that they could do more good if they were to go back to the Council and the Senate and try to return with supplies and reinforcements. But no, Qui-Gon just yelled at him, disregarded his feelings and told him their mission was to rescue Tahl. He didn’t bother using this as a teaching moment for Obi-Wan because he was so concerned about his attachment. And then later when Tahl actually died, Qui-Gon nearly fell to the dark side and it was Obi-Wan who saved him.  And then Qui-Gon went on to decide that because of the pain that had been inflicted by losing Tahl he’d basically give Obi-Wan an ultimatum when it came to the woman he loved (and basically downplayed it as nothing but a crush). Now, say what you want about how Obi-Wan handled Anakin/Padme’s relationship - maybe pretending it wasn’t happening instead of confronting Anakin about it wasn’t a healthy/smart choice, but at least he didn’t downplay it and make it look like Anakin’s feelings weren’t real or valid.

8. Qui-Gon refused to apologize: There are several examples where Qui-Gon refuses to accept any responsibilities and won’t apologize. One such point is in TPM where he basically traded his current Padawan in for a newer/shinier model in front of the entire Council (which if this alone isn’t enough cause to prove the man wasn’t the best father figure…) he then refused to even approach Obi-Wan about it, in fact the twenty five year old Apprentice who had just been tossed aside for a supposed prophecy came and apologized to Qui-Gon!! Another example is back in the Jedi Apprentice books where Qui-Gon leaves Obi-Wan on the war torn planet (as mentioned in #7) it is up to Obi-Wan to make it up to Qui-Gon and prove his worth once again. I’m not certain given Anakin’s tendency to need constant affirmations that this would’ve been a good combination.

9. Qui-Gon was manipulative: Oftentimes we see Qui-Gon manipulating people to get his way (I’m not talking about Jedi Mind Tricks). In TPM he manipulates Watto to win Anakin’s freedom, he even manipulates Obi-Wan into taking on the burden of training Anakin by making it his dying wish. He is not above manipulation if he gets his desired result. We see Anakin does the same thing, so one could argue Qui-Gon would’ve only encouraged this behavior.

10. Qui-Gon cared more about the prophecy than the boy: I’m not saying that Qui-Gon didn’t care about people, or even Anakin, in fact he was a very compassionate character. But, all of his arguments to have Anakin be trained was that he is “the Chosen One” not once does he talk about how the boy needs training simply because it’d be dangerous to leave such raw power alone in the galaxy without training, or that it would be the right thing to do. He doesn’t ever talk about how learning to be a Jedi would actually benefit the boy. Every single time he brings up Anakin needing training is because of the prophecy. Now, as far as it looks in both canon and legends Obi-Wan tried incredibly hard to not bring up the prophecy to Anakin (except on Mustafar), Obi-Wan would bring it up to Mace/Yoda but that was about it. Obi-Wan wasn’t blinded by the prophecy because until ROTS it didn’t really appear that he even believed in it - he believed in Anakin for who he was as a person. Something we just didn’t see with Qui-Gon.

Now, Qui-Gon has a lot of great qualities, I am not denying that, but to say that he would’ve been the father figure Anakin needed is just misguided. If you believe in the idea that there is a will of the Force one could argue that Obi-Wan training Anakin was that will, otherwise Qui-Gon wouldn’t have died. 

Also, Mr. Filoni, why is it that Anakin supposedly suffered because he didn’t have a father figure yet you turned around and gave Ahsoka a brother, not a father? Are you suggesting Ahsoka suffered as well because she didn’t have a father figure? Or, was Obi-Wan by this time finally “old” enough to be considered a father figure? 

This idea that Qui-Gon Jinn would’ve been the fix it to Anakin’s issues is just silly and once again places the blame of the Jedi’s destruction in the hands of the Council and specifically Obi-Wan, thus not forcing Anakin to be held responsible for any of his actions. 

I’m sorry, but it’s not a theory I buy due to a lack of evidence. 

[elysianightsss]

It’s just Business - three

Werewolf Steve Rodgers x reader

Warnings for the series: fluffness, Bucky and Sam bickering like five year olds, smutty smut, bad language.

After coming back from my ruined peaceful walk, I didn’t have the motivation to do anything other than just sitting and reading. I spent most of the afternoon and evening doing that too. It kind of brought back the serene feeling from this morning but not the same. By the time dinner and then sleep rolled around I felt unproductive.

Making a mental note to talk to Bash tomorrow, I pulled back the covers ready to get into bed when I heard a howl just like the night before. The noise caused my breath to hitch in my throat, my hands to grip the sheets. Like a siren call I walked towards the glass door in a daze. Standing out on the balcony now, I heard the howl again but it was closer this time.

The noise made my chest tighten. A pricking sensation familiar to how you’d prick your finger when learning to sow. It got stronger and stronger, almost like something was getting closer and closer.

“Alex?” I jumped screaming when a hand placed itself on my back.

“Oh Bash, sorry, you scared me. I didn’t hear you come in.” I explained.

“I haven’t scared you in years. Last time I did we were little. You seemed to be the one scaring me now.” He grinned, a smile slipping onto my face too.

“Seems that way doesn’t it?” He eyed the lake and trees with a suspicious eye.

“Do you like it here?” He asked coming to stand next to me on the balcony.

“I love it. It’s so freeing.” I stared out at the view.

“I’m sorry for what Dad had done. And, well I’m sorry for leaving you in that house to begin with.” He cleared his throat, I reached out a patted his back. I knew it was hard for him to admit his wrong doings, even if technically he didn’t do anything wrong here.

“It’s not your fault. Mother and Father would have never let it happen. And besides maybe being away from them for eight months will be good for me.” I let out a dry chuckle at the thought. Eight parent free months. Sounded amazing.

“When I was your age, that would have sounded like heaven to me.” He poked my side with a laugh.

“Bash, I spent four months trying to do this task, and I’ve already failed. How did you and JJ complete it in under a month?” I asked astonished, more about JJ than Bash really.

“When Father set us the task, I thought it was easy. And applied to every college in the world, a lot of people wanted the ‘Mayor’s Son’ on their campus, but two sons that was like a dream to them and their scouts. So when I finally picked the college I wanted, they asked if JJ would be joining me. Which he did.” Bash shook his head remembering the trouble JJ caused that university.

“Nobody wants me for my title or my grades. They just want money. How am I supposed to do this? The task is to get into a college without financial help. So far getting a scholarship from every place in the world has failed. Because they said and I quote ‘your parents have too much money’.” I pushed and hand through my hair angrily.

“I have a friend at Hitchend Uni, I called and asked if he could do something. He said he’d see what he could do and call back soon.” Bash looked over to me seeing my sad eyes. “Little sister.”

“I just wish my life wasn’t like this. I wish it were different. That I didn’t have to worry about this stupid task or the fact that if I fail they’re going to kick me out without any financial support. They won’t even let me get a job to support myself, so what money will I have to fall back on?” I tried to relax staring out at the lake. A howl sounded over to the left of the forest.

“You know that Lara and I will take you in. We could never let you be homeless.” He placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Thankyou Sebastian.”

“Ooo using my full name. You must be serious.” He chuckled pulling me into a hug. I gladly accepted the warmth.

“Now come on time for bed.” He encouraged me inside and I listened. Slipping under the covers as he shut and locked the door.

“Goodnight little sister.”

“Goodnight big brother.” He smiled and closed the door. I rested a little easier that night, knowing that when everything goes to shit I have someone to turn to. I’m not alone.

Two more days. Today and tomorrow and then the freedom is gone. My head started to hurt more and more, the closer it got to leaving. New worries hitting me at every point throughout the day. I couldn’t stop thinking about all different kinds of problems that could happen. Soon enough, the last day rolled around.

A knock on the door had Bash’s head flicking in the noises direction. We were in the middle of breakfast, I was far too busy chowing down my Frosties to care who was at the door until I heard who Bash was talking to. He’d gone to get the door and now was conversing with whoever was there.

“Of course man, come in. We’re just having breakfast.” I went to leave, for now I was beyond pissed.

“Alex.” Lara shook her head at me, but I didn’t listen. Getting up from my seat only to run right into the person I wanted to avoid.

“Good morning Alexandra.” His voice was like honey, his sweet smile pushing me to stay. Dark blue graced his upper body again. Mustering up the best glare I could and sending it his way. I left, going back to my temporary room upstairs. Only a few seconds later he was stood in the door way.

“I want there to be no misunderstanding Alexandra. I no way want you to dislike me or be uncomfortable. However we will be spending the next eight months together and I have specific instructions from your father in terms of a schedule. It would be best if we got along don’t you agree?”

He had some fucking nerve. I grit my teeth taking a deep breath before turning to him and speaking.

“And I want there to be no misunderstanding when I say I have one more day left of freedom. And I would very much prefer to spend it without you, errand boy.” I wasn’t going to be told what to do by my father’s errand boy. Well, man.

The clench of his jaw, the raise of the eyebrow, the spark in his eyes gave me a sense of pride. I had just managed to rile up a grown man and he couldn’t do anything about it. It was in that moment I decided to spend the next eight months making his life as hellish as mine.

He left the room quickly, I couldn’t help the grin that grew with each passing second. For some reason, I didn’t know what that reason was but, I really liked getting him riled up and I couldn’t wait to see what happens when I push him too far and he snaps. I wonder what it is that he’ll do.

I felt my entire body heat up, I figured it was just the adrenaline rush that came with the situation rush. But the longer I stood and pondered, I felt like I was yearning for something? Heat shot through me again, it felt like when you get too hot and the waves of hotness just keep coming until you take off your jacket.

Shaking the feeling off, I made myself determined to go back to being normal for a day. That was ultimately the goal until Mr rugged showed up at the front door. Wonder if he’s still here? I tilted my head with the thought, trying to listen and see if I could hear any talking downstairs.

“Yeah, you idiot.” Lara laughed.

“Ah my loving wife, how ever did I deserve such a glorious mate that showers me with affection daily.” Bash’s sarcasm dripped with each word he spoke.

“Eww sloppy kisses!” Lara scream playfully.

That’s a new one. Never heard someone refer to their partner as a mate before. Strange but with my family stranger things happen every day. Not wanting to take my chances that he hadn’t left I stayed in my room for the rest of the day.

“Wish I could stay.” I huffed flopping down on my bed. Tomorrow was the day I left and I wasn’t ready.

This is it. No. It can’t be.

“Alex!”

It is. Pulling the sheet above my head, I let out a groan at the thought.

“I’m leaving today.” I said to myself, as if trying to ready myself for the journey ahead.

I got dressed and packed as slowly as possible. Didn’t have the appetite to eat anything. Felt like my stomach would lurch if I did. Couldn’t bare the thought of going away from the first place that had made me feel peaceful.

“Love you lots and lots and lots and lots and lots.” Lara repeated hugging me tightly.

“Okay Lara, let my baby sister breath.” Bash chuckled.

“Our sister.” She glared not letting go.

“Love you too” I smiled pulling away and walking to Bash. He enveloped me in a hug.

“You can do this.” He whispered, squeezing me before letting me go.

I got in the car that had pulled up twenty minutes ago. I didn’t mind making him wait. I waved goodbye to the happily married couple, mustering up the best smile I could. The gorgeous fir trees passed by not helping my solemn mood. Soon the mountains came into view, seeing a few houses dotted here and there on a few of them.

The car passed by the big village. Strings of houses here and there. There was a huge house in the middle of it. People walking about, looking my way, kids playing outside and others farming the land. We pulled up to a house that was slightly away from the village and a bit bigger than the other houses. The driver opened my door for me, smiling in thanks.

“Rustic.” I quipped looking at the house.

“Thanks.” My head snapped to Steve who had been walking my way, behind him was a trail going into the forest that I assumed led up to the mountains.

“Welcome to your new home for the next eight months.” He smiled and somehow, it seemed sincere.

Oh joy.