#but i do feel refreshed n ready to study so maybe it was worth it

[quenthel]

Had my morning coffee n dozed off after and I had sleep paralysis so that's great... Great way to start my morning LOL

[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.

[yslkook]

just like magic

pairing: house husband!seokjin x wife!reader summary: some moments of bliss with you and seokjin in your married life together.  word count: 11k warnings: cursing, alcohol, smut (oral f receiving, penetrative sex), suggestive content a/n: some of these moments are inspired by ariana grande songs, enjoy <3 ty to @cutechim​ for reading some of this!! AND THANK YOU TO HANA FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL BANNER IM IN TEARS

ONE. pov.

The faint golden glow of the early morning barely touches Jin as he rolls over to press his lips to your shoulder, where your sleep shirt has slipped down a bit. You’re still seemingly asleep, soft snores leaving your parted lips and your alarm hasn’t gone off yet.

It always goes off at the most opportune times.

He presses himself closer to you, molding his hips to yours and shoving his hand up your faded purple sleep shirt to palm your tits. You sigh happily, pushing back against him in your sleep.

Jin knows you’re close to waking up, if the quickness of your breaths is any indicator. You smile with your eyes still closed as he drops feathery kisses to your cheeks, your chin, your neck.

“I know you’re awake,” Jin rolls his eyes, his voice hoarse from just waking up.

“I’m sleeping,” You mumble, turning towards him and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Jin only laughs airily, dipping his head for a kiss to your lips.

“Wake up then,” Jin breathes. You can feel his half hard cock tucked in his boxers against your thigh already and you hum. It only takes a simple brush for you to buck your hips towards him, centering your bare core to his cock.

You hadn’t bothered with panties last night, after he had fucked you back to sleep. Despite the faint ache in between your legs, you wrap your leg around his hip and pull him on top of you.

“Thought you were sleeping.”

“My annoying husband woke me up,” You say, eyes still slick with sleep. Arousal rolls in your belly when he grinds into you lightly.

The pink haze of sleep begins to slip away as Jin kisses you deeply, with more urgency than before.

“Had to give you something to remember me by today,” Jin whispers, “It’s Monday, after all.”

“Don’t remind me,” You groan, rubbing your eyes, “This week is gonna fucking suck, baby.”

“Shh,” Jin says, pressing a finger to your lips, “We have, like, thirty minutes before you have to start getting ready for work.”

“Better make it worth it, babes,” You laugh and he squeezes your thighs. He raises his head, looking at you like you’re a meal and like you’re his queen.

His lips are heated against your skin, your giggles turning into soft moans of his name quickly. 

“Jin, baby,” You say, voice sounding muffled to your ears, “I have to be at work early-”

“Can’t even appreciate my wifey’s sexy bod,” Jin grumbles and you swat his shoulder, “God, I could eat this pussy out all day-”

“Saying sexy like that isn’t sexy,” You complain, “And you’re not doing anything, you’re just breathing on my clit- gonna give me an embolism-”

One look from Jin, a kiss and a few rolls of your clit with his thumb has you wet against his fingers- the man, your husband of three years, knows your body even better than you know yourself. He knows you better than you know yourself.

His mouth slips over your inner thighs, his hands tight around your hips to hold you in place as you buck your hips impatiently for friction. Jin is so handsome in the morning (well, he’s handsome all the time), but something about the puffiness of his eyes and the pink of his cheeks from sleep always has your pussy fluttering.

Your husband of three years, and your boyfriend for six years before that- he always has your pussy fluttering and your heart soaring. 

Jin swipes his fingers across your glossy folds, glistening just for him, and presses his mouth to your sensitive clit. His hands wander, squeezing your tits fondly, roaming over the hidden bites from the prior night easily. You widen your legs and carelessly throw them over his shoulders.

“Jin,” You whine, “I want you, stop teasing me-”

“‘M not,” Jin says, voice dripping with thick, honeyed desire, “I just, you know how much I love this pussy.”

“Yeah, you love my pussy more than you love me,” You tease, “Please-”

You cut yourself off with a sharp moan as his tongue flicks over your clit teasingly. Hooded eyes meet his dark eyes as his tongue delves deeper into your wet folds, and your thighs quiver almost instantly once he rubs your clit with his thumb.

You’re so sensitive. It’s how he likes you best. (He likes you sensitive, and he likes you in that tight dark green dress you’re planning on wearing to work today.)

Jin loves you in the morning, with the taste of the night before in between your legs. You end the night with him and start your morning with him- it’s all he wants. All he wants is something to remember him by during your inevitably busy days.

“I love you,” Jin mumbles, “My gorgeous girl. Sound so pretty when you cum in my mouth…”

He loves teasing you, loves making you beg for him. And this time is no different. A string of curses fly from your mouth, your back arching when you beg his name in broken noises. 

“Good morning to me,” You giggle lazily, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Good morning to my pretty wifey,” Jin hums and you push him on his back, straddling his hips.

Yeah. It’s your favorite type of morning.

TWO. love language.

“It’s Friday,” Jin mumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist as you pour two mugs of coffee for you both, “The weather outside is awful. You’ll get blown away, just stay home baby.”

You’re already dressed and ready to go into the office, eyeliner sharp and lipstick perfectly placed, but one look outside of the window has you reconsidering. You had already decided that you’d stay home and work from the dining table or the couch but you enjoy seeing Jin grovel a little too much. So you let him.

“When did you become a meteorologist,” You mutter, threading your fingers through his and squeezing.

Your calendar today is quite light. Only a few meetings, a few deliverables for you to provide. You’ve already decided that you’ll stay home and shower Jin with at much attention as you can, but he pouts against your neck.

“That’s the dream.”

“I thought the dream was being my husband.”

“That comes in a close second to being a meteorologist, and I think there’s a one hundred percent chance that you’ll be staying home today and giving me cuddles.”

You roll your eyes at him but can’t resist the smile that tugs at your lips. Turning in his arms and handing him a cup of coffee with a dash of milk and caramel coffee creamer, you lean forward for a kiss.

A crack of thunder sends you jumping in his arms and yelping, nearly dropping the mug to the floor but Jin grabs it before you can.

He knows you better than you know yourself. 

“I’m staying home, baby,” You say, “It’s not worth it. And I have a light day today so maybe…” You trail a finger over the thick vein in his neck and over his chest with a sly grin.

“So maybe we can take a nap together at noon,” Jin finishes your sentence for you with a gleam in his eyes.

“...Or that.”

Working from the dining table whenever you worked from home made you feel close to Jin. He’d flit around you, pecking you with kisses or a squeeze of your shoulder whenever he passed you, or telling you to get up off your ass if you’ve been sitting too long. But mostly, you just enjoy his company and working from home always puts you in a good mood.

Even if you have a designated office in the cozy townhouse you’ve been living with Jin in for two years now, you prefer the dining table for work from home days. You do use the office, if you really need to. But those days are few and far between.

You have about an hour before you have to log in, so you decide to make breakfast for Jin while he waters the plants upstairs. Usually, it’s Jin making you breakfast- he always makes it a point to have breakfast with you before you leave for work.

You’re happy to have a man who doesn’t resent you for being the breadwinner, as your family and friends had cautioned you of years ago. You had scoffed at them then, as if they knew anything about you or Jin. He’s happy to support you and be your biggest cheerleader and you’re his biggest cheerleader.

You had met in college, studying the same discipline and where you were passionate about it, he wasn’t. He had such a passion for life that was refreshing, and he brought out the best in you. Jin made you laugh, he made you love, and you both just worked so well together. Even on your off days, you both just knew each other.

You cut your avocado egg toasts in half and pour a glass of mango pineapple smoothie (Jin’s favorite) for both of you.

“Hey, honey,” You call when he pokes his head around the corner and see his fluffy purple house slippers, “Breakfast is ready.”

Jin kisses you in appreciation, pulling you closer to him by your waist. “Girl of my dreams making me breakfast, huh?”

“Shut up,” You swat his chest, “It’s too gross to take Bomi out, right?”

“Yeah, my baby is still sleeping in her bed,” Jin says, yelping when you pinch his waist.

“Your baby?”

“Oh, fine, our baby,” Jin rolls his eyes, “Was gonna take her to see Jimin and baby Jia today. Fucking storm…”

“Maybe they can come over this weekend, when it passes,” You hum, “We can make those lemon bars she likes.”

“We can do brunch with them? Have some margaritas and mojitos,” Jin suggests, tugging your hand to join him at the breakfast bar.

“I’m sure Sunmi would appreciate that,” You reply.

You both look up to the ceiling when you hear Bomi trotting out of her bed and at the top of the stairs. You stand at the bottom with open arms and she bounds towards you eagerly, nuzzling you with her soft nose and licking you everywhere.

“Hi Bomi, baby,” You coo and scratch her head, “It’s raining outside, we can’t go to the dog park today. You can hang out with Mommy and Daddy inside.”

She only looks at you with big, light brown eyes and pants in excitement. She slides out of your arms and stands in front of Jin, only to jump and cuddle into his lap. 

“You’re getting so big, Bomi,” Jin whispers, “Gonna tackle me over someday.”

“She could take you,” You tease and sit next to him, tickling Bomi’s jaw. You put some dog food into her bowl (that Jin made himself in his ceramics class that he took on a whim and also painted) and pour some water for her in her water bowl.

Bomi immediately jumps off to have her own breakfast. You can vividly remember when you and Jin had both fallen in love with her at the adoption shelter, almost three years ago now. She had seemed so scared, and you and Jin had approached her cautiously. You knew she had an instant connection (like you had, years ago) with Jin when she touched his paw and saw stars in his eyes.

You brought her home less than two weeks later, and she’s been your baby ever since.

Jin nudges your foot playfully. You nudge him back. 

“Got a long day today?” Jin murmurs after a bite of avocado toast. You wipe away stray avocado with your thumb and lick it for yourself.

“Nah, should be done around two or three,” You reply. Jin beams at you and kisses your temple.

“Don’t let me keep you,” You say airily, “I know you like working out in the mornings. I put protein powder in your smoothie.”

He rolls his eyes. As if you could come in the way of his meticulously crafted routine. Today, he was planning on working on the story he was writing, working out, and making lunch and dinner. He would be doing a little more, if the weather wasn’t working against him.

Jin loves the flexibility of his life, honestly. He loves being able to do the things he loves, while you do the things you love. And if that means him not technically having a stable job, and you bringing home most of the money, that’s more than okay with him. Besides, you’ve both come a long way from any insecurities that that might have brought. 

He loves that all of his joy for life also comes with you by his side.

That’s what over ten years of being together will do. 

***

“Baby,” You call from the couch, “Come here. I miss you.”

Your meetings for the day have finished and you have finished the bulk of your work, leaving the majority of your day free to finish up loose ends and send a few emails. This week has been filled with many early mornings and late nights, leaving both you and Jin yearning for the weekend and for more time with each other.

He comes to you with wide, puppy eyes and you beckon him forward. “Sit with me, honey. Please?”

Jin leans towards you, chin on your shoulder and chest to your back as he watches you type away. Your shoulders instantly relax with his touch and the comforting scent of his rain scented shower gel. He’s still warm from his shower and he wraps an arm around your waist.

It’s your favorite place to be.

“Is that woman being annoying,” Jin asks, “The one on your project for that document change you gotta make?”

“Nah, she’s been out this week,” You mutter, “I gotta have a heart to heart with her next week and tell her to stop railroading me every chance she gets.”

“Damn you’re so sexy when you get all mean,” Jin shivers dramatically and you laugh against him.

“‘M not mean,” You reply absently, clicking ‘send’ on an email and messaging your boss to have a good weekend. Bomi has woken up from her nap and joins you both on the couch, curling in your lap and dwarfing over your laptop screen.

“Bomi,” You chuckle and rub her back, “Silly girl.”

She only looks at you with wide eyes, happy that she has your attention. It reminds you a little bit of how Jin looks at you when he catches your eye. Jin leans over and takes Bomi from you and cuddles here in his lap. He turns around so his back is pressed against yours and his legs outstretched the other way. The warmth of him against you is welcome as you finish up your emails and sign off for the weekend as quickly as you can.

“Okay,” You murmur, “‘M done with work. Wanna take Bomi out for a walk with me? Looks like the storm stopped for the most part…”

“Sure, maybe I’ll finally get my kiss in the rain.”

“Yeah, and we’ll both get pneumonia,” You chastise him, patting his cheek, “Has Jungkook been getting in your head lately? Mr. Romance over there.”

Jin gasps in offense, “More like I’m getting in his head. Everything he knows about romance is because of me.”

“Okay, baby. Whatever you say.”

THREE. honeymoon avenue.

“I have two weeks of vacation left,” You muse, running your hands through Jin’s hair, “We should go to Phuket. We’ve been meaning to for years…”

“They say November is the best time,” Jin replies, peering over to the computer. Where you’re currently looking up flights and hotels to Phuket.

“November is next week, Seokjin.”

“Okay, and? Spontaneity is the backbone of long-term relationships,” Jin says matter-of-factly and dodges the inevitable swat to his shoulder.

“I thought trust, love, and respect is the backbone of long-term relationships.”

“That too. But really, it’s the fact that my hot wife wants to take me, her even hotter husband on a romantic getaway-”

“We should go,” You murmur, already thinking about the clear, pristine waters and white, sandy beaches. Not to mention the food…

“Baby, will you text in the groupchat? Ask if anyone wants to go,” You say, bookmarking beaches and places to sightsee. You already have a growing list of hotels and AirBnb’s that you want to investigate further.

“Not everyone is as spontaneous as us, sweets,” Jin says, “Peasants.”

***

In the end, only you and Jin end up deciding to go to Phuket. It was too last minute for your friends, especially for your friends with young children.

It’s just you and Jin in Phuket for a week. You had decided to leave Bomi with the dog sitter, as she hated flying and was terrified of it.  

By the time you both get settled in your Airbnb, you’re both bouncing off the walls with pent up energy. 

Phuket isn’t ready for the storm that was you and Seokjin.

***

“Sweets, you ready for dinner?” Jin calls from the bedroom, leaning against the headboard of the bed.

“Five minutes!” 

Jin rolls his eyes fondly, very well acquainted with how long it takes for you to get ready sometimes. Your eyeliner had to be just perfect, lipstick complimenting your eye makeup, your jewelry a statement but not obnoxious… The list goes on.

He scrolls on his phone impatiently, looking at the photos the dog-sitter sent of Bomi and then he lets his friends know what their plans were. They all excitedly ask for pictures and updates.

He’s already gotten quite tan since being here, and it’s only been four and a half days. Though most of the time during those four and a half days was spent at the beach, hiking, exploring, or sipping drinks at the beach bar.

Bliss. Seeing the way the sun glows on your skin and the way you beam at him without the stress of deadlines and responsibilities is a sight he’ll never tire of. If his photo album on his phone is anything to go by, it’s filled with candids of you and photos of you sprinkled in with the scenery and the food you’ve both been eating. 

You’ll try anything once, and Jin will, too.

Five minutes go by.

“I’m hungry,” Jin whines, finally getting up and leaning against the doorframe. His throat goes a little dry when you look at him with wide eyes, in the middle of applying your false lashes.

“Two minutes, baby, I promise-”

“I should eat you instead,” Jin says, eyes raking over your figure brazenly. You’re wearing a tight red dress with thin straps, and a thin necklace that he had bought you for your most recent birthday sits around your neck. 

“What a line,” You roll your eyes.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Jin says cockily, “Got you forever and always.”

“How romantic.”

***

You can’t deny the butterflies that you still get around Jin, especially when he looks at you like that over dinner. Like you’re the only thing in the entire world when his eyes are molten gold for you and you only. 

You won’t deny that the way he calls you his wife in that low, raspy voice sends a rush of something curling in your belly. You’ll blame it on the third glass of sam song that you’ve had. Jin himself is on his third glass of mekhong. His ears and the apples of his cheeks are flushed red from the alcohol. 

You want to pounce on him. Who does Seokjin think he is? His lips are bitten and a little red from chapstick. And from you kissing him before arriving at the restaurant for your reservation. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, giving you a few of his collarbones and the necklace around his neck.

Your face feels hot. It’s probably the alcohol. Jin knows that look on your face. The one where you’re impatient. The one where you just want him and want him and want him. 

He’ll take care of you. He always will.

***

“My pretty wifey,” Jin murmurs, face buried in your neck as he rocks into you slowly. The hot, slow glide of his cock burns in the best way, leaving you sated and wanting more at the same time.

“My gorgeous girl,” Jin says and you whine, clenching around him. Your legs wrap around his waist and he groans, dotting your skin in kisses. He’s all around you, coating you in a pillowy haze. Your lipstick stains his lips, fading on his neck and his glistening chest.

“Can’t believe you did this for me,” He groans, fingers ghosting over your bare, sensitive pussy. (Yes, you’d gotten a wax before vacation. As it had been a while, and you wanted to see Jin’s reaction.)

“Fuck, Jin,” You sigh. You feel a little dazed, a little airy. “Feel so fucking good. You’re so… big, always feel so fucking good.”

Your clothes are strewn about in various corners of the Airbnb, both of you too hasty and impatient to get your hands on each other after dinner and a short walk on the beach. Honestly, you would’ve fucked him out on the beach if he allowed you to. The way the moonlight hit his eyes just made your brain shut off and think lewd thoughts of only him.

You’ve cum at least three times now, and Jin shows no signs of stopping. Truthfully, neither do you- you can keep up with him and he can keep up with you. It’s part of what’s made you both work so well.

“Good, baby?” Jin mumbles. He doesn’t give you time to answer before gathering you in his arms and sitting you up. Your tits are plastered to his chest, and you can’t help but snake a hand in between you both and playfully twist his nipple. The angle of his cock in you is deeper than before and you struggle to stave off the need to cum.

“Yeah,” You say faintly.

“What’s on the agenda tomorrow?” Jin asks quietly, slowing and stopping his movements. You whine again when he stops moving inside of you.

“Shh, baby,” Jin says, “Just wanna be with you like this. What’re we doing tomorrow?”

“Seriously?” You grunt, trying to get some friction on your clit but he halts your movements with a large hand on your hips. You pinch his nipple hard and he yelps. “You wanna talk about our itinerary tomorrow when you’re balls deep inside me-”

“Yeah, I gotta plan ahead,” Jin snorts.

“Um,” You mumble, trying to gain your wits about you, “The market. A-and the distillery, and then…”

“And then?” Jin purrs in your ear, nipping your earlobe. 

“And then the elephant sanctuary. Maybe Bangla road a-at night,” You reply, pressing your face into his neck.

“Good girl,” Jin breathes and you whimper into his skin, “My smart, wonderful, amazing wifey-”

“Wanna be your wife forever,” The words slip out of your mouth without you meaning to, as they usually do. Something about Jin calling you his wife like that sets you ablaze, makes you possessive for a man already yours.

“Good thing we’re married then, huh?” Jin jokes and you let out a breathless laugh.

“Baby,” You exhale, “Wanna cum. Wanna cum so bad, wanna feel my hubby’s cum-”

Jin groans into your neck, biting your clavicle lightly. “You’re so impatient,” He chides lightly.

“Will you move-”

“I told you to wait-”

“Fine, I’ll just,” You push him on his back roughly and press your palms to his chest and sigh happily when you finally get the friction you’re craving as you begin to bounce on his cock. Jin squeezes your hips, your tits and pulls you closer to him to mouth at your chest. He wraps a hand around your neck lightly as you try to keep your rhythm steady and your breaths stutter.

You ignore the burn in your thighs in favor of clenching around his cock and focusing on how full you feel.

Jin’s eyes are hooded, zeroed in on you exactly how you like them to be. He can sense when you’re beginning to get tired, holding your hips tightly and taking control over to slam his hips into yours. He stays focused on the way your lips part in a delicious ‘o’ and he pulls your face close to his harshly to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. You whimper into his mouth as he slams into you, his hips pistoning and your voice growing louder and louder.

He circles your clit, moves the same hand to your lips and pushes his thumb into your mouth and you eagerly accept his finger. Spit coats his thumb and he hums in approval.

You cum abruptly and unexpectedly, pleasure washing over you in waves at the simple clasp of his big hand around your neck. His cock is still throbbing inside you, pace relentless. Tears gather around your waterline from oversensitivity but you murmur for him to cum, you tell him how much you want his cum in you and he moans your name in your ear before emptying himself in your pussy.

“I love you,” You mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck and gripping his necklace lightly. He wipes any stray moisture from your eyes and kisses your forehead. 

“I love you,” Jin says hoarsely. Jin tries to pull out but you protest, wanting to lay with him for a few moments longer. At some point, you end up dozing off in his arms and Jin cleans you both up before tucking you into bed.

You feel the faint brush of his lips on your forehead and bury yourself into his side before you tumble into sleep.

FOUR. long days.

you.

You woke up this morning with a migraine (truly one of the worst ways to wake up). Despite taking medicine after it became too excruciating to bear and increasing your water intake, your head was still throbbing nearly twelve hours later.

Not to mention, everyone at work was grating on your last nerve. It seemed that everyone wanted a piece of you today and you were getting pulled in a million different directions. You didn’t even have time to do the things you needed to do.

The only people who you were able to speak to without feeling like ripping your hair out were Namjoon and Jungkook. Even they told you that you should probably go home early, since it looked like you were about to pass out. Namjoon offered to call Jin to pick you up, but you refused quickly.

Being in your office was making your migraine worse. So by 3 PM, you pack your stuff up and head out without bidding anybody goodbye. 

Your feet ache, your head is pounding, you’re hungry and you could absolutely scream. You rest your forehead on your steering wheel before pulling out of your parking space with bleary eyes. Your suit feels stifling today, and it feels difficult to breathe.

You want Jin, you’ve wanted Jin since you arrived at work and everything went to shit. But you can’t bear to listen to a single sound over your speakers so you just wait until you get home.

***

“You’re home early,” Jin says, looking up at you from his glasses at the dining table. You say nothing, only dropping your backpack to the floor and climbing into his lap tiredly.

“Oh, honey,” Jin murmurs, kissing your hair and rubbing your shoulder. Your eyes are closed and you hum into his neck. 

“My head hurts a lot,” You say quietly into his skin, “Today sucked.”

“Let’s go get you changed, honey.” 

Bomi follows both of you upstairs, sitting in her bed as Jin changes you out of your work clothes. He starts with your suit jacket, peeling it off easily and hanging it back up in your closet. Then, he pulls your button-up from the waistband of your pants and unbuttons your shirt slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your skin with each button that comes undone. Jin easily unclasps your bra, letting his fingers trail over your skin, before pulling one of his shirts over your head.

You’re already feeling a little better.

Jin pushes your pants down your legs and taps the back of your thighs so he can pull your favorite sweatpants up. “Gotta take your makeup off, baby.”

You make a noise of acknowledgment and allow him to take you to the bathroom, where he gently washes away the remnants of your day (after he washes his hands).

After he moisturizes your face with a tender touch, he pulls you into his chest for a long hug. His hands roam your back from under his shirt and you sigh.

“Can we nap,” You mumble, eyes already closing.

Jin nods and carries you to bed, making sure to draw the curtains closed to envelope you both in as much darkness as possible. He tucks you in before stepping away for a minute, but you’re already being beckoned towards sleep. “Baby, take medicine,” Jin murmurs, holding two pills and a glass of water in his hand. You sit up with a wince and do as he says.

“Good girl,” Jin says, cradling your cheek and crawling into bed with you. Jin turns on his side and drapes himself over you. He smiles when you sigh contentedly and he kisses your hair, coaxing you further into sleep with a few rubs of your belly.

Your soft snores fill the room and Jin only hopes you wake up feeling a little better.

***

jin. 

Jin can’t seem to knock this metaphorical wall down, no matter how much coffee he chugs, how long he sits in the home office, how long he stares at his laptop screen.

Writer’s block. What a pain.

He runs a hand through his already messy hair and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks like shit- bags under his eyes, fatigued, zapped of energy and motivation.

But he has a deadline coming up in the next few months and he has absolutely nothing to show for it. He had had success with his first short story, but he’d called it beginner’s luck. Then came the second story, and the third. 

And now here he is. Riding on the coattails of his initial success. Maybe this is how far his mild talent would take him. Maybe this is all he can put out into the world. 

It was nice while it lasted.

Jin huffs loudly. He knows you’d scold him for thinking such thoughts, for wallowing like this. You’d kiss him, murmur words of comfort and tell him that you believe in him.

He wants you, he wants you to hold him. A sudden wave of sadness and inadequacy washes over him.

Jin will just wait for you to get home. Until then, he’ll lay in bed and wallow in self-pity. Just how he likes.

***

You know something is wrong when Jin doesn’t reply to your texts after a few hours or send you a silly meme, or a corny joke as he usually does. He could be busy, but you just have a feeling.

So when you come home to see Bomi and Jin cuddled in bed, you only softly sigh. Jin rarely takes afternoon naps- it’s clear he’s upset.

“Jin?” You murmur, “Everything okay, baby?” You kneel on the floor of the side of the bed he’s facing and push his hair from his eyes. Jin blearily looks at you with fatigue in the lines of his face.

“No,” He says, voice muffled, “Lay with me? But take your outside clothes off.”

You bite your tongue, wanting to say “when have I ever laid in bed in outside clothes” but you refrain. You quickly wash up and change into comfy clothes and slide into bed to wrap your arms around his waist. You press your nose to his neck and drop a kiss there.

Jin relaxes immediately in your hold, finally able to get his mind to stop going a million miles a minute. Your hands are soothing and gentle around him, you wrap your legs around his to cocoon him in your embrace.

“Wanna talk about it, baby?” You murmur, dropping a kiss to the back of his ear.

“I just,” Jin sighs, “This story. I feel so stuck, and they want the first draft in a few weeks and I have nothing- I mean, what if this is it. This is all I could put out into the universe and… I felt like I was finally doing something great, something I loved. I felt like I was finally getting started-”

“Oh, sweetheart,” You coo, “It’s scary doing something amazing and feeling like you can’t replicate the same success. Or the same quality end result. Maybe you just need a break, honey. For a few days. And I’m sure if you ask for an extension, they’ll understand. You have so many words in this pretty head, baby. You have so many stories to tell.”

Jin turns in your arms, his eyes a little wet. You cup his cheek tenderly and he leans into your touch.

“You work so hard baby,” You murmur, “You’re so hard on yourself. Be patient with yourself.”

“I love you,” He mutters, pulling you in for a hug, “I love you. Even if you did wear outside clothes in bed, I love you.”

FIVE. nasa.

Falling in love with Seokjin came naturally- you had met him in one of your shared college classes in undergrad during your second year of college, and had become acquaintances that way. It had taken you longer to become real friends with him, but it hadn’t taken you long at all to realize how attracted you were to him.

You wanted him and he wanted you, as he drunkenly told you over shitty vodka shots at the bar that your mutual friends were celebrating their twenty-first birthdays at. He was so shy at the time, he still is sometimes, that you could understand how much it took for him to admit it to you. Whether it was out of intoxication or not. Of course, it had taken some time for you to get your shit together with each other. But the rest was history.

College sweethearts. You can still remember what it felt like in the beginning, how he made your heart grow ten sizes in your chest and made you feel like you were in the clouds. You can remember because you still feel it now, over ten years later. Give or take.

You remember your friends and your older cousins telling you that it wouldn’t work- that you were two very different people. You were too uptight, you didn’t take risks, you were not Seokjin’s type at all. Sure, maybe it seemed that way on paper. But the more you knew him and grew to love him, the more you felt like he was the missing piece of your puzzle.

You’ve long let go of the doubts of people around you. And it was even more bothersome that your own friends and family questioned your judgment. Because his friends and his family loved you. They sang your praises whether you were present or not, and his friends and family had slowly become your friends and family, too.

It made you happy beyond happy.

But there were some times when you and Jin were not on the same wavelength, and today was one of those days. You both fought here and there, like any couple did. But it had been a long time since you both fought like this.

You were both spending the day at the park with Bomi and then furniture shopping for a new coffee table. Jin had been inspired to redo the decor in the living room and you were basking in his inspiration. 

But the morning had first started with you spilling your coffee and subsequently breaking your mug when it had slipped right out of your hands. You had then cut yourself on one of the sharper pieces after ensuring that Bomi was in her crate so she wouldn’t get hurt because of your stupidity-

Jin comes bounding down the stairs with panicked, wide eyes when he sees you pouting and holding a cloth to your hand. He looks down at the spilt coffee and the broken pieces of your mug and sighs.

You clean up the broken pieces with Jin and he checks your hands and feet afterwards. He helps you bandage your hand up, even though it’s a superficial cut. “Clumsy,” Jin snorts, “You’d lose your head if you didn’t have me.”

It had been such a small thing, but then a few other small things started adding up. Bomi peed on the rug before you had left for the park.

And to top it all off, Jin’s shoulder has been bothering him more than usual. His shoulder pain has been flaring up over the last few months, and despite your attempts to coax him into physical therapy or at least a doctor’s visit, he stubbornly refuses to. Something about it just being a part of getting older, or something.

Every time you try telling him to see a doctor, it ends in a minuscule fight and Jin shuts the conversation down. You can’t understand what the big deal is. Maybe there’s something more going on, something he’s not sharing with you.

This morning is one of those days that his shoulder is aching more than it usually does. You offer to drive to the park, but he grits his teeth and tells you that he can handle it.

You let it go for now.

At the park, Jin relaxes considerably, running around and playing with Bomi. There are some other dogs around so you and Jin let Bomi play with them, chatting with the other dog parents around you. Bomi is still getting used to being around other dogs, so you’re both happy to see her meshing well.

Bomi begins to tire herself out, curling at your feet and panting. Indicating that she’s tired and thirsty. Maybe a little hungry.

“Hi Bomi baby,” You coo, “Want some water and treats? Come, baby.”

“Wanna head out soon? We gotta check out the furniture store still,” Jin murmurs to you and you nod. He seems impatient, tapping his foot against the grass but you say nothing. 

You rub his back fleetingly once Bomi finishes her treats and you carry her leash in your hand, your other hand in Jin’s. He’s tense, eyes narrowed in concentration and you think you know why. You think his shoulder is bothering him and he’s being stubborn about it. 

You put Bomi in the backseat, stopping Jin from getting in the driver’s seat for a second. “Hey,” You mumble, taking your hands in his, “I’ll drive-”

“No, I’ll drive,” He says it with a note of finality and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I know your shoulder hurts, love,” You try to say as gently as you can, “Let me do it.”

“I’m fine,” Jin insists, stubbornness dripping from his tone, “Get in the car. I’m fine.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. The car ride is quiet, tension filling the spaces between you. You want to say something, you really do. But you don’t want to upset him further when he’s driving.

But then you see him wince and groan softly in pain with his hands on the steering wheel.

“Seokjin, pull over,” You say a little firmly. A little annoyed that he let it get this far. 

“I can’t just pull over,” He hisses, “Besides, I’m fine, I’ll get us home-”

“We were supposed to go to the furniture store,” You roll your eyes, “But you’re right, pull over so I can drive us home. And I’m calling the doc once we get home-”

“No!” Jin exclaims, “I’m not fucking pulling over-”

“Why not? I’m literally telling you that I’ll drive! Baby, please-”

Jin rarely ever loses his patience with you, but today is just one of those days. “You should’ve fucking driven then,” He somehow has the audacity to say.

“You’re joking right? I told you multiple times I would drive,” You refrain from raising your voice, “You won’t call the doctor, you won’t see a physical therapist. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Leave it alone! You’re supposed to fucking leave it alone,” Seokjin says, not holding back the irritation on his tongue. The hoops on his ears dangle and bounce when he looks at you quickly.

He ignores the hurt on your face and watches it transform into anger.

“Alright, I’ll just fucking leave it alone, since you’re doing such a great job of taking care of it yourself,” You mutter.

“Don’t- don’t scold me under your breath,” He says, more like yells, “A-and quit nagging me about it, fuck!”

The irritation in your belly vanishes quickly, hiding behind your hurting heart. You turn away from him, facing the passenger side window so he doesn’t see your eyes beginning to water. 

Jin sighs, already realizing his error. You hate when anyone raises their voice at you, much less when it’s him. Shit. He has to fix this, but damn, you can be pushy when you want to be.

You sniffle.

“I’m sorry,” Jin says instantly, “Baby, I’m sorry I yelled.”

“Just drive, Seokjin,” You sigh, wiping your eyes.

So you both sit in silence.

***

“Baby,” Jin begs, “Please, baby, say something.”

“I don’t know what to say,” You mumble, his words ringing clear in your head. You had put Bomi in her bed, as she had somehow fallen asleep despite you and Jin arguing.

So now you’re both standing in the living room, looking at each other sadly. “Can I hug you?” Jin asks, walking towards you with outstretched arms. He dwarfs over you but you stand limply in his arms, your own arms hanging awkwardly at your side.

“Baby,” Jin pleads with you, cradling your cheek.

You’ve had worse fights with him in the past. But you knew him, you knew he wouldn’t lash out like this normally.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” You say bluntly, “And don’t lie to me and say everything’s fine. This isn’t just about your shoulder, so what is it?”

Of course you’d know that he was hiding something. You’re his other half after all, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

Jin sighs, rubbing his face tiredly. “I just…” He whispers.

“Tell me, baby,” You say reassuringly, hand on his chest, “It’s just me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut to gather his thoughts before opening his mouth and giving himself the chance to hurt your feelings again. “I just...I feel like I have no reason to get sick. To be in pain, I mean, what am I doing? I’m just at home, anyway-”

“Seokjin,” You murmur in a hushed whisper, “You’re not just at home-”

“I just feel- inadequate sometimes lately,” Jin says, his eyes wide and vulnerable, “I feel stuck and like… unsettled. I just want to be a husband you can be proud of. I’m sorry I yelled at you in the car.”

“Honey,” You cup his face with love in your eyes, “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out together, okay? You can tell me anything, when you’re ready. I hate pushing you to open up but sometimes you just need it, baby.

“I’ll always be proud of you no matter what. You are my dream babe, so supportive and loving and I always feel safe with you. If you want to work again, we’ll figure it out. If you want to write something else, we’ll figure it out. I’ll always be proud of you, but I want you to be proud of you, too. I love you.

“And you can make it up to me with dinner,” You joke, pulling a laugh from him.

“I’m really sorry,” Jin says, pulling you in for a proper hug. This time you reciprocate and hold him close. 

“I know, love,” You murmur, “I know.”

SIX. question and answer.

Seokjin had quit his job about two years before you both had gotten married. He’d been dreaming about finally putting his dream of being a true storyteller to the test, and you had supported him. You’d read through his drafts and his manuscripts and encouraged him to pursue it full time. After all, you made enough to sustain you both and then some. And it’s not like he wasn’t making any money at all- he did freelance work with his writing for the most part. 

He was good, he was more than good. He was great. Jin was a natural born storyteller, knowing exactly when to focus on details and when to zoom out and focus on the big picture. The way he wrote his stories genuinely felt like he was spinning words out of gold thread when you read what he wrote.

And he’d blush, the tips of his ears going red, when you said that to him with such conviction because you meant it.

Jin would get his big break soon, you were sure of it. But honestly, Jin was content like this. Freelancing his work, writing and keeping up with his new ideas and stories. It was one of the greatest gifts of his life, he thinks.

You and Jin are both content with your lives. You both find new ways to excite each other and new ways to fall even deeper in love with each other. It’s funny because your wedding hadn’t really even been planned. You both would have been content to exist as boyfriend and girlfriend until the end of time, but the idea of being his wife and of him being your husband was too mesmerizing for you both to let go of.

Neither of you wanted anything big or flashy. In fact, the way Jin had brought it up had been over breakfast (which in itself was so very him)-

“I wanna be yours forever,” Jin says bluntly, syrup at the corner of his mouth.

“Is that a proposal or are you just saying that,” You tease but his eyes are serious.

“Do you want it to be a proposal? I know we’ve talked about marriage and how what we are now is enough for both of us. I know you love me and I know I love you. But… god, I want to be your husband. I want you to be my wife.”

“Okay,” You shrug, “So let’s get married.”

“That’s it?”

“Does it need to be any more complicated?” You ask, “Like you said. I already know I want to be with you forever. Let’s make it official. Besides… I wanna be your pretty wifey. Don’t you want that?”

And that was that. You told your parents and he told his parents that you’d be getting married in court, and they had respectively scolded you both for not telling them before or planning anything. But nevertheless, they still came and they were witnesses at the court wedding. Only a few friends had come (you’d only invited a few)- the guys and some of your girls. 

Jungkook had cried along with your mother.

You and Jin at least had a small get together with your friends and family to celebrate a little bit. Your parents were a little miffed that they didn’t have a chance to have an elaborately planned wedding for their eldest daughter, but they knew you. They knew you wouldn’t have wanted all of that.

“At least they told you and invited us to come,” Your brother says, rolling his eyes at your mother.

But it’s inevitable that for the last few years, the question of whether you both would ever grace your respective parents with grandchildren comes up repeatedly. Your parents are harder on you and more incessant than Jin’s parents are.

Many family gatherings have ended with you losing your temper with your parents, specifically your mother and your aunts. Your patience runs out quickly with them and Jin knows it. It’s part of the reason why you’ve been distancing yourself from your mother and aunts- it’s exhausting and tiresome to keep having the same conversation. Jin has been witness to your frustrated tears one too many times to count. First, they’d bug you about when you and Jin would get married. And now, they bug you about when you’ll have children.

You and Jin are happy right now. Neither of you had explicitly decided that you didn’t want kids. You’re both just taking it easy. And your family can’t seem to understand that.

Of course, you’ve both talked about kids together. And you’ve thought about whether you were meant to have kids extensively. Truthfully, you never really saw it becoming a reality.

But again… not right now. Maybe later. Or maybe not ever. The decision will come when it comes. It’s been years, and your feelings haven’t changed one way or another.

Your mother says you’re too laid back. Which is funny, because when she met Jin for the first time, she told you that you were too uptight for him.

Jin’s family doesn’t push either of you. His mother treats you like her own daughter, and for that you’re grateful. You’ve heard stories from friends about shitty in-laws, and you’re glad that Jin’s family is your own family.

The Kims are having a small party on this gorgeous summer evening- you and Jin are in attendance, along with his brother, his brother’s wife, and their two kids, and a few of Jin’s aunts, uncles and cousins.

Jin seems to sense that you’re both about to get ambushed by his mother and his aunts in the kitchen after drinks and dinner before you do. You stand closer to him, subtly squeezing his hand in yours. He grips your hand and squeezes back.

At least he’s with you, and you don’t have to fend for yourself, you think dryly.

“You ladies got something to say?” Jin says, his jaw starting to tick. He’s getting upset and you rub your thumb over his hand.

“We only want what’s best for you,” His mom says with a sigh, “You’re both getting older, when will you have kids-”

You swallow a lump down as your throat goes dry and the urge to cry overwhelms you.

“Stop,” Jin warns, his voice low, “We’re not doing this. Not here, not now.”

“We haven’t said anything for this long,” His aunt complains. You want to melt into the floor. 

Are you the problem?

“Do you want a trophy for minding your own business?” Jin says, glaring at his aunt, who cowers with the heat in his stare. You can’t find your voice, so you let Jin speak for both of you.

“Don’t speak to your aunt like that,” His mother scolds Jin but he’s not having it.

“I will, if any of you speak to my wife and I like this,” Jin hisses, “We’re leaving.” 

Jin squeezes your hand and you refuse to let go of him. Your vision is blurry from unshed tears and Jin notices. You manage to hold it in while you grab your purse, until you get to the car and let a few tears fall before shoving your face into his chest and sobbing.

“I know, baby,” Jin sighs, rubbing your back soothingly, “I’m sorry. Let’s go home.”

***

“I don’t know what to say,” You mumble into his chest. You had both immediately changed into night clothes to cuddle in bed, with Bomi in your arms.

“I’m tired,” Jin sighs, “Tired of them asking. Tired of everyone asking us.”

“I’m sorry,” You say, looking up at him, “They’re our family.”

“Doesn’t mean they get to be the way they are,” Jin rolls his eyes.

“I know,” You reply, “I’m running out of things to say to them. We’re gonna push everyone away if we keep this up.”

You say the last part jokingly, but you both know it’s a very real possibility. It’s becoming harder and harder for you both to give them the benefit of the doubt, to say that they only ask out of their own good intentions. It’s beginning to hurt you more and more.

“Maybe they need to be pushed away,” Jin mumbles, “If it means getting some peace of mind and not feeling like this whenever we see our families, maybe it’s worth it.”

“Maybe.”

A beat of comfortable silence.

“Do you want kids?” Jin asks bluntly, “It’s been a while since we actually talked about it. Just want to make sure nothing has changed.”

“No, not now,” You murmur, “Maybe someday. It’s such a hard question to answer. I don’t want to say no definitively but I don’t want to say yes definitively either… Do you want kids?”

“Maybe someday,” Jin echoes, “We can revisit in a few months. Or next year. Whenever we feel like it. Because it’s our decision.”

“Your mom is right,” You sigh, “I am getting older, you know. If we do want kids, we should seriously start thinking about it soon.”

“There are other ways to have kids,” Jin says pointedly, “When we’re both ready. Not because we feel like we have to.”

“Okay,” You say softly, “I love you.”

It’s that simple and that’s that. (For now, at least.)

SEVEN. together.

As you and Seokjin had tumbled out of your late twenties, you both found yourself preferring boozy brunch to nights out. At least with boozy brunch, you could recuperate during the day so you weren’t hungover for the entirety of the next day. 

That’s not to say that you didn’t enjoy a night out every so often with your friends. You liked going out more than Jin did, even when you were in college. 

So it was no surprise that at Taehyung’s boozy birthday brunch, you were well on your way to being drunk and Jin was, too. It had been a long time since you had seen your friends- it really only feels like you see each other for birthdays or big events. You miss the days of college, when you could see each other at the drop of a hat. It never felt this busy even in the years right after college. In the early years, even though most of them were younger than you and Jin, it still felt like there was more time.

It makes you feel nostalgic. You hear Jungkook teasing Jin (as he often does) and Jin dramatically responding. His cheeks are flushed red, the flush creeping down to his neck.

God, he looks so good.

You tear your eyes away from him when Taehyung’s girlfriend calls your name. She asks if you want to dance and you immediately say fuck yes, and stand up with her and with Sunmi to head to the dance floor with two drinks in your hands.

 You can feel Jin’s eyes on your backside- you know you looked good. The pink crop top you had chosen for brunch was tight around your chest and you know these dark wash jeans and short heels (coincidentally your favorite) made your legs and your ass look fantastic.

Not that you didn’t look fantastic at all hours of the day. But you like being reminded that your man cannot get enough of you.

You’re careful with your drinks, ensuring that not a single drop is wasted while you dance with your friends. It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to let loose like this, and it makes you happy to be surrounded by friends that you love.

Sunmi’s hands are on your hips as you throw your head back in loose laughter. You’re vaguely aware of someone taking selfies of the three of you. Mostly, you can feel Jin’s lazy gaze on you, and a few other eyes as well.

You’ll give your husband something to watch, alright.

***

Somehow, it’s only 3 PM when it feels like it's 11 PM. And somehow, Taehyung is eager to go to the club at night, after an afternoon of reckless drinking. You and Jin exchange a wordless look, already knowing where your head is at. 

“Yah… just let us know where the pregame is,” Jin says and Taehyung beams at him, “We’ll take a power nap until then.”

You feel bad that you and Jin probably won’t be going out, but you don’t want to dim his excitement. And honestly, knowing your friends, they’d all hype themselves up after an entire afternoon of drinking only to crash, pass out, and order in to chill.

“I don’t really wanna go,” You complain once you’re both in the comfort of your home, changed and ready for a nap.

“Jungkook told me that they’re all crashing anyway,” Jin says.

“Besides, I wanna blow you when you wake up,” You say sleepily.

“Why not now,” Jin whines, “Look at me, I’m already half hard. Help me.”

“I’ll puke on your dick if I suck you off right now.”

“Not like it hasn’t happened before-”

“Seokjin!” 

“Ugh, fine,” Jin says dramatically, “I’ll just suffer then.”

“Okay, then perish.”

EIGHT. self.

Jin likes lists. He’s a big fan of crossing things off of his lists (which he keeps in his planner and his journal depending on what he makes lists for), and there are very few things as satisfying as completing a task from his list.

He’s a huge stationery enthusiast, only allowing both himself and you to use materials that he deemed satisfactory. He’s recently come across the magic that is washi tape, thanks to Namjoon.

Today, he’s taking Bomi out for a walk and to the nearby dog park, then he’s going to outline some new story ideas in his notebook (to later add to his drive on his laptop), and then he’s visiting baby Jia and Jimin with Yoongi and Holly. 

Inspiration seems to be flooding through his pores these days, and he’ll ride that wave for as long as he can.

After seeing Jia and Jimin, he’ll stop by the grocery store and restock some on veggies, spices and meat. Routinely, you and Jin switch on who makes dinner for the week. You do enjoy cooking (it’s your time to decompress) but you’ll gladly admit that your man cooks better than you. 

He claims that his secret ingredient is love. You think it’s because he’s more patient than you. 

Sunday mornings at least twice a month are spent baking with Jin. You both like trying and making new things together. Sometimes it comes out great, and sometimes it doesn’t.

Jin also picks up some of your shared favorite snacks, two new bottles of wine to try, and a bag of clementines.

***

Initially, the quiet of the house without you felt a bit stifling at times. And once Bomi came into the picture, it became a little more lively. And then Jin had taken some plant recommendations and tips from Namjoon. He takes care of them meticulously, and you even have two succulents on your office desk that Jin had surprised you with.

And then you had surprised him with a record player with a few vinyls of his favorite albums and artists. 

You both had made it a home project after purchasing the record player to build a sturdy, wooden audio rack together. Of course, it had taken months to finish (and if you had called Jin your sexy lumberjack husband and taken photos of him posing with the table together, then that was your business).

Jin puts some music on the record player before taking Bomi’s harness off and letting her stretch her legs. He puts the vegetables and the meat in the fridge and fills up a glass of water (as well as Bomi’s water bowl).

Maybe he’ll put a candle on and work from the couch. 

Jin usually prefers working in his house with music faintly playing in the background. But sometimes, he likes working with Yoongi in his studio. Somehow, the feeling and sound of Yoongi working on his own music puts Jin in the right headspace to write and get his words on paper. 

Jin puts his head down and loses track of time as he types away, tapping his foot to the music in time with the beat. Bomi curls up to his side and rests her head on his thigh.

It must be about two hours later, when his phone starts ringing. It’s Hoseok calling and Jin picks up instantly, knowing that he’s been having a tough time recently. Hoseok had taken the week off to get his thoughts sorted, and it’s clear that he wants (or needs) some company. So Jin tells him to come over and he warms up some leftovers and prepares some snacks.

Hoseok and Jin end up lying in bed together, under the duvet with Bomi in Hoseok’s arms. Jin turns the music up, as it’s comforting to hear in the silence. He doesn’t push him to talk, unless he really wants to. Eventually, with a sigh, he does. 

It’s almost disconcerting, seeing the pull of Hoseok’s lips into a sharp frown. He’s usually so happy, and smiley, sunshine personified. But he is only human and he is not immune to hard days and generally feeling this way.

Jin only holds Hoseok close to him as he tells him how he’s been feeling the last few weeks. Months really. The words stumble out, forcing their way out of his throat (and some tears do, too).

Jin only rubs his friend’s arm reassuringly and listens.

***

You find Jin and Hoseok tucked away in your bed and you’re sure to be quiet and light on your feet when you arrive home from work. You let them have their time together, only saying hello to them when you arrive and start preparing dinner with a glass of wine in your hands.

“You don’t-” Hoseok protests, and you hold your hand up before he can even finish his sentence.

“Stay for dinner, Hobi. It’s been a while,” You murmur with a soft smile, “Besides, Jin got new wine and we’d love to try some with you.”

So he stays, and you see him smile genuinely for the first time in a long time.

NINE. to the nines.

“I love being your arm candy,” Jin murmurs into your ear when you both walk into the swanky hotel together, “Because I’m the only 11 in the room.”

“You’re so full of it,” You roll your eyes, swatting his chest playfully. Truthfully, you enjoy these events so much more when Jin is with you. You can hardly stand being in the room with these many people from work when you don’t have to be.

But being with Jin makes things like this bearable. Enjoyable, even. 

It’s the director’s retirement party, and nearly everyone at the company is here for the party. You spot Jungkook and Namjoon with their respective significant others near the open bar and immediately make a beeline for them.

“Hey,” You murmur, giving them each a tight hug, “You all clean up very nicely.”

“Yah! You didn’t even tell me that when we left the house,” Jin pouts and you roll your eyes. Again.

A lie, and you both know it.

“Let’s make a drinking game out of this shindig,” You mutter and everyone looks on with interested eyes, “Every time you see your boss-”

“You don’t need to make a drinking game outta it,” Jungkook says, wrapping an arm around his date’s shoulders, “We’re already tipsy-”

“Of course you are,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, “Wouldn’t expect anything less-”

“Don’t come for me, I know you both took tequila shots before getting here-”

You leave Jin and Jungkook bickering and walk with Namjoon and his date to the open bar. 

“What do you two feel like having,” You muse, “Let’s get this party going, everyone looks like they’re wasted or like they’d rather be anywhere but here.”

“Should we be networking,” Namjoon muses, taking a look around the ballroom.

“I only network from eight to five pm on weekdays and after that I need a six month notice in advance if I’m being forced to network,” You say flatly, “Let’s just enjoy, Joon.”

“If you say so, boss,” Namjoon grins good-naturedly at you. You hand out your respective drinks, beckoning Jin towards you and have a quiet cheers together.

You’re happy to be with your friends, and with Jin, even if it’s a work event that you have an unspoken obligation to attend.

***

It appears that Taemin does not quite see the ring on your finger- or he sees it and he willfully ignores it. Or it’s the alcohol and he’s just being far more flirty than usual. Either way, you take it in stride and dip out of the conversation as soon as you can to make your way back to Jin.

Who had been watching the whole interaction with amused eyes.

“Are you jealous?” You ask with a sugary grin.

“Yeah, definitely,” Jin rolls his eyes, “Jealous that your coworker caught five minutes of your time. Should I go rough him up?”

“I love when you protect my honor,” You wink at him, rubbing his chest absently, “It’s so sexy.”

“I love you,” Jin says abruptly, “I’m proud to be the person on your arm, you know that?”

“Yeah,” You say dreamily, “I love you.”

You and Jin end up finishing the night with Jungkook, Namjoon and their dates at a nearby pizza place. Even if you look out of place in fancy formal wear, none of you pay it any mind.

Neither you nor Jin particularly prefer PDA, but you can’t help but lean your head against his shoulder when you start to yawn. You’re struggling to stay present in the conversation and Jin’s warmth next to you is pushing you closer and closer to sleep.

You end up dozing off without realizing it, and Jin adjusts himself so that your head is comfortably resting on his shoulder. Everyone is sure to keep their voices down since you’ve fallen into a deep sleep apparently, and once everyone’s finished with their food Jin hesitates to wake you up.

“Honey,” Jin murmurs, shaking your shoulder gently, “The Uber’s almost here. We can go home and go to sleep. A pizza parlor is no place for sleeping.”

It takes a few moments of shaking your shoulder and whispering for you to wake up before Jin just lifts you up and carries you outside. You inhale loudly at the sudden movement and your eyes spring open.

“Jin,” You mumble into his neck, “‘M so tired.”

“I know, baby, we’ll be home soon. Gonna put you down now, alright?” 

Your feet hit the ground but you stay in his embrace, eyes still closed and face tucked into his neck. You force your eyes open with a groan and look over his shoulder to see Jungkook and Namjoon in similar embraces with their own dates.

“They’re cute,” You say softly to Jin, “We’re cuter, but they’re still cute.”

“That’s my girl,” Jin grins and pecks your forehead.

“‘M your pretty wifey,” You remind him. As if he needs a reminder.

“‘M your pretty hubby,” Jin says. As if you need the reminder.

He’s your forever, and you’re his forever. Things between you both have always been relatively simple and easy. 

And this fact is no different.

tags: @kentobean​ 

[purpleyellow]

Stress

BTS 8th member

Sunny’s masterlist

“Sunny and Yoongi have a conflict″ Thank you for the anon who requested this!!

Disclaimer As the anon said, I too think Suga would be a more calm person, so I had a lot of fun thinking about a situation he would get so worked up. As a disclaimer this is in no way shape or form, me trying to guess what the boys went through in that moment, all the words written are fiction and made with entertainment porpuses. 

a/n:Your opinion is very important for me, send feedback and requests anytime 💜 Also, don’t be shy and interact a little, ask box is always open.

"We were mentally struggling at the beginning of the year. While talking amongst ourselves, we even considered disbanding.”  - Seokjin, 2018 MAMA

On edge, that was how every BTS member was feeling in the past few weeks. It was like nothing was working for them, their bond getting tested every moment and even the smallest decisions creating friction between themselves or the company. 

Sunny herself didn’t have the mind to do anything at that moment, the meeting that was supposed to last all day had been called off after the first five minutes by their own manager, who allegedly “Didn’t think they should talk about those things at that moment”, and she didn’t want to just go home without doing anything productive.

Going to the cafeteria to refresh her thoughts before finding something to do, she found strange how empty the place was. It was usually filled with staff members, trainees, and general people who worked in the building, but now all of the tables were empty, except for one.

Right in the corner of the room sat a person dressed in black from head to toe, staring blankly into space as he siped from his coffee. Yoongi had just as bad of a day as she did, and as he sat on his studio to work on something nothing seemed to come to his mind except the blood boiling talk he had with one of the producers. 

Getting her own cup of coffee, Sunny considered if not sitting in the same table as him would be weird. Of course, the few people who worked very closely with them knew about the phase BTS was going through, but if anyone else passed by and saw them sitting far away rumors could start spreading. 

Pulling the chair in front of his so she could sit down, the girl missed his eyes snapping out of his daze and studying her figure before looking straight ahead again. She didn’t know if he was waiting for her to say something or not, so she decided to start a random conversation, hoping the worst thing she would get would be no answer.

“Did you see they changed the lobby’s carpet to a pastel blue color? I thought it looked pretty, maybe we could use it as inspiration and change the curtains of the dorms” She said nonchalantly and took a sip her coffee “I mean, we haven’t clean those in a while, let’s just get rid of them”

Suga snorted rolling his eyes, taking another sip he placed his cup down before staring at her with an unamused face “Is that really what you’re worried about?”

“It’s not my top priority, but it is something I think about. I mean, it has been collecting dust for a while and it could affect-”

“Well, fuck Sunny, really?” He cut her off laughing sarcastically and throwing his head back. “We’ve all been stressing like crazy and the only thing you care about is some blue pastel drapes”

“I don’t care about them, I just wanted to make small talk” She rolled her eyes speaking more firmly “But if you think I’m not as stressed as you then let’s talk about it”

“Oh, shall we?” He smirked looking around “C’mon tell me what worries you, did no one told you your hair looks pretty today? I bet that’s the biggest struggle you went through”

“What is with you today?" Sunny exclaimed, not having the patience to deal with his irony.

"Geez Sunny you really are oblivious huh? Pop the little bubble you live in, Bangtan could be ending right now, do you expect me to be laughing and paying attention to the small wonders in the world? NO” He slapped the table making the girl flinch from the scare. 

“I AM aware of what’s going on, why did you think I tried talking to you?” She exclaimed putting a defensive hand on her chest. “Do you really think I don’t care about our future?”

“I think you’re not as passionate about this group like the rest of us,” He said still sitting down, gaze as cold as ice “To me you’re still that child who was put into the group the SEVEN of us build, it seems like people liked you so we kept growing, but think about it, you weren’t there when we build our name out of nowhere”

“You’re salty because of something that happened years ago?” Sunny widened her eyes and Yoongi snorted once again, his chilled position didn’t match the attacking tone of his voice and that was getting on her nerves. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here from the beginning, but since I joined you guys I have put all my blood, sweat and tears into the group, you cannot just say I was handed things”

“Oh, but you were. Can’t you see that everything-” He started but got interrupted.

“So all the times I spent”

“DO NOT CUT ME OFF WHE I’M SPEAKING” He raised his voice making her lose all the words in her head “This is what I’m talking about, MY GOD, we spoiled you too much. I told Namjoon we should assign you a specific thing to do, but he would always protect you, saying you were free to work on whatever you wanted. Now here we are, you get all the attention because you do the bare minimum, while the dumbass here works his ass off and gets told he’s just a disposable piece”

Sunny was both confused and hurt with his statement, everyone knew Yoongi as the mastermind behind BTS, even some of the producers in the company respected his opinion over their own. As for her work, she knew she would put her 100% on everything related to the group, his words didn’t change that truth in her head.

“I’m sorry my effort isn’t enough for you” she got up picking up her phone from the table “I knew you didn’t care about me but never realized my presence was such a burden to you. And if it counts as something, everyone knows your worth in the group, and they would all drop me if it meant you got to stay with them”

“Stop victimizing yourself” Suga groaned rolling his head back and Sunny snapped, turning around and pointing a finger to him.

“YOU are the one playing the victim here. I’m saying the truth because I know that between the disbandment talk you guys are also considering going back to seven. We live in the same house if you don’t remember, I can hear you talking behind my back”

“I’m older than you, princess” He got up and slapped her finger “Treat me with respect next time you get all worked up. And don’t act like you wouldn’t go solo in a snap of fingers.”

“I wouldn’t, because believe it or not, I’m in this Bangtan shit for life” As soon as she finished speaking, a middle-aged woman walked in talking to her phone, probably unaware of the tension in the room.

Not wanting to catch her attention, and also too pissed off to do anything else, Sunny walked out straight to the lobby, catching Jimin waiting for a car there. He looked over to her and they made eye contact for a few seconds before looking away like they hadn’t seen each other, before parting ways.

She had never felt the end of her family so close as that day.

…

“Can I talk to you?” Yoongi asked sitting in front of her, ironically, on the same table, they were when they had the argument two days prior.

“Sure” She mumbled locking her phone and looking around. The few people around made her feel safe, and Suga knew that, making him feel bad for snapping at her.

“I’m cutting to the chase because I don’t think either of us has the energy to deal with more than we already are,” He said and took a deep breath “I’m sorry for saying those things to you. The producing team had a meeting that day, and they told me I should step back from work for a few days, so I guess I got insecure and was stupid enough to let it out on you. I should not have done that”

“All you said seemed sincere enough for it to be a spur of the moment” Sunny arched an eyebrow “Did you think about that for a long time? Would it make things better for you if I wasn’t on the picture?”

“No, it wouldn’t.” He answered instantly but waited a few seconds to explain himself better “I’m going to be honest, I used to think those things when you first joined us. Not the success part, but the attention going to you when we had worked longer. I don’t think like that anymore, but the whole situation must have dug out those thoughts”

“Oppa, I’m sorry I made you feel like that” She sighed

“We know it has nothing to do with you” He comforted her and they sat in silence for a few minutes. “I think we all need a break”

“Yeah, me too” She mumbled picking up her things so they could go to the meeting together, “Do you think we’ll get over this?”

“I hope so.” Yoongi sighed and they moved to meet the other six members. “We did spoil you too much though?”

“W-why?” Sunny said with wide eyes, ready for him to blow up again.

“We go through a crisis and your instinct is to act like nothing is going on,” He said and started laughing “Talking about carpets and curtains, what were you thinking?”

[missdawnandherdusk]

A Guy Worth Getting Expelled For

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Part One    Part Two    Part Three    

Part Four     Part Five

Summary: So maybe you and Draco figured out that you don’t have to hate each other... but that about the rest of the school? 

A/N: Who is ReADy foR ThiS!? Because I promise you all, you’re not. It’s been one of my favorite parts so far but let me know what you think! I love you guys and your feedback so don’t be afraid to comment or reblog! (Also this is over 3k words because I have no self control anymore)

Tags: @un-limiteddd @geekysimmerthings @coffee-addicti @ilikestuffproductions @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @dolphincommander @bisexualbumblebeesstuff @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland @shookyungsoo @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey

The weekend passed, and due to final exams, I was holed up in my room most of the time. That’s what was nice about rooming with Hermione, I could cook my own food—the Muggle way—and she wouldn’t tell on me. Ramen was a lifesaver as we studied.

I hadn’t heard form Draco at all. Part of me wondered if he figured it out. The letter he wrote to me was getting worn form the amount of times that I unfolded and refolded it each time I reread his words.

The boys did coax us both down to dinner Sunday night, however. They weren’t quite convinced that I was fine and were still at my defense despite my change in mood and constant protests. In fact, it seemed like every Gryffindor in our year and then some were ready at my defense.

“Do you want us to sneak a doxy into his room?” Fred offered. “We’ll do it. Free of charge.” 

“No, I’m okay, really,”

“We could do it anyway,” George suggested.

“No,” I said firmly as we sat in the Great Hall.

Dinner came and passed, and I didn’t have to look over my shoulder for Draco because Ron and Harry were doing a great job of that already. There was no way I was going to be able to walk to Draco with this... protection squad hovering—and not listening to me when I said I was fine.

My heart did flutter as both Harry and Ron tensed, glaring at the door to the Hall. A smile found its way to my face as I turned, finding clam blue eyes.

“I’ll get him,” Harry said, getting up from the table and Ron following suit.

“Guys, wait, no!” I scrambled to get up, tripping over my robes before righting myself, a few paces behind them, Hermione at my heels.

The students who were in the Hall also noticed what was going on and all looked our way. Some stood to get a better look. This was going to get very bad very fast if someone didn’t do something. And, apparently, I had to be that someone.

“You have some nerve Malfoy!” Harry sneered, drawing his wand.

My adrenaline spiked as Draco kept his cool, keeping his eyes on me. I tried to tell him that this wasn’t my idea and that they didn’t know and that I would fix this, but maybe that was too much to tell him in one look.

I caught up to Harry and pushed past him. Turning and facing Harry—the same way that Draco had done for me against Pansy—I glared him down.

“What are you doing!?” I demanded. “I told you! It was fine!”

“But he hurt you! He deserves this!” Harry exclaimed.

“Pansy was the one who made me cry not Draco!” I laid out. “He... He protected me from her,”

Harry gaped at me and so did Ron, Hermione was beaming. There was a rumbling through the students who had gathered around us. Why did I keep finding myself in these situations?

“No way, I don’t believe it,” Harry hissed. “Malfoy would never, and not for you.”

“And how would you know!?” I demanded. “You’re so absorbed in yourself that you never stop to look, or think, or ask questions!”

“So now you’re taking his side!?” Harry fumbled.

I scoffed and threw my hands up in exasperation.

“Why does there have to be sides!? Why do we have to fight!?” 

“He’s a Slytherin!”

“Great! And I’m a Pisces! What does it matter!” I annunciated each word, taking a few calming breaths. “He deserves to be helped and loved as much as you do Harry,” My voice was barely audible.

Now Harry was glaring me down, his anger shifting from Draco to me, which was fine, I could handle Harry easy—Golden Boy or not.

There was a hand on my shoulder.

I turned, meeting Draco’s eyes.

“I’m not worth this.” He murmured softly. “Don’t... not because of me.”

He was so close now. I could feel the fear and desperation almost tangibly as he pleaded with me to back down, and maybe that broke me more. For him to think that he wasn’t worth saving. That he wasn’t worth fighting for.

“Did you figure it out?” I asked softly, completely ignoring Harry and the others behind me. Draco held my focus now. “Who sent me the letter and who I told my mother about?”

He nodded and looked down. How could he know that he was the one that I had chosen, and he still didn’t think it was right for me to fight for him?

“What? Is Malfoy jealous over who you’re crushing on?” Ron jeered and the crowd snickered.

Draco turned red, gritting his teeth, I saw his hand reach for his wand, but I beat him to it and drew mine. Spinning around, almost hissing at Ron, everyone backed away from me, sensing the danger I assumed.

“I don’t think he can be jealous,” I snapped, tilting my chin back. “But the rest of you can,”

Without much thought or time in the moments between, I grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him closer. I met his eyes for an instant, and I could see and feel the coolness of a lake, the refreshing wave of the ocean. There was an electric current between us.

I brought my hand to cup his face ever so gently—grimacing when he flinched as if I was going to hit him—and quickly pressed my lips to his. He froze under my touch but relaxed almost instantly, which was a bit shocking, but comforting. His hands rested on my waist and he pulled me a step closer.

His lips were soft and hesitant on mine. The electric current didn’t wane, instead it seemed to be stronger than before. It was better than what any potion could offer, or spell could conjure.

I had to pull away in fear that I might spend all night kissing him.

The situation around us settled back in, and though neither of us could keep the smiles off our faces it was Draco who spoke before I could.

“If anyone has anything they’d like to say, you’ll answer to both of us,” There was smugness and pride in his voice as he said ‘us.’

I couldn’t lie, I liked it too.

The crowd broke out into mutters and whispers, some of which were encouraging, some baffled, and some downright cruel—most of which came from either Gryffindor or Slytherin. My hand found Draco’s as an anchor in the midst of it all, not sure what was coming next.

Harry stormed off and Ron gave an apologetic look before going after him and Hermione followed suit. As much as I was alright on standing on my own, their absence hurt.

“Mr. Malfoy! Miss Lupine! My office! Now!” It was McGonagall.

My heart sank as the students scattered in fear of also getting in trouble for something that they may or may not have done. It left Draco and me alone walking to McGonagall’s office under her gaze. Somewhere along the way Snape caught up to us, and to my surprise, Dumbledore.

I gave Draco an apologetic look, but his face was a mask of calm and indifference—courage in the face of danger. I followed his lead as we sat in McGonagall’s office as the three discussed what to do with us outside the door.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was me? When we were on the stairs?” He asked softly.

I shrugged.

“I don’t think I was ready,” I admitted. “It was... a hard day.”

“Sorry again,” He mumbled sheepishly.

We sat side by side together, waiting for whatever was about to happen. I feared for the worst and I could tell do did Draco. The memory of his lips on mine however, kept me somewhat same and comforted.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” I whispered. “This is all my fault,” 

“No, it’s not Y/n. You know that,” He argued. “I had a good part in it too.”

“I should have just left it alone,” Tears were in my eyes as I started to realize the gravity of the situation.

“No,” He said firmly, catching my eyes. “You’re right, this has gone on too long.”

Again, his hand slipped into mine and I felt grounded. It was odd, finding comfort in someone that I had hated only a few months ago.

The three Professors came down and we dropped our hands quickly, as we both looked down.

“It has come to our attention that you two have caused quite a bit of trouble,” Dumbledore began.

“Please, sir. It was me. Not her.” Draco stood, taking a small step in front of me.

Shock flitted across the faces of the professors, and mine. I didn’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t that.

“No, it was me. I’m the one who kissed him and provoked Harry.” I stood next to him, almost pushing him out of the way. “Whatever punishment... I’ll take it in full... even if that means expulsion.” My voice wavered as the words slipped out.

“Y/n,” Draco protested and turned to me.

“Your dad will kill you in you get in trouble because of me,” I argued. “And... I can’t let that happen. So... please, Draco,”

I didn’t know what I was asking for exactly, but I knew that if his father found out... he’d be in worse trouble than whatever the school could come up with.

“No, forget about my father. I don’t care what he thinks. You’re not talking all the fault. I won’t let you,”

I bit my lip, thousands of words wanting to escape them just as the tears that threatened to fall. Why hadn’t I seen this in him before? Why hadn’t anyone?

Draco Malfoy could be good. He could be selfless. He could be loved.

“If I may,” Dumbledore began again. “Neither of you are in trouble nor are you getting expelled.”

“What?” We both snapped, turning to the three professors.

Hope fluttered in my chest, that maybe once we would both be okay. That we could both make it out of here.

_______________________

Out in the hall...

“Has it happened?” Dumbledore asked. “The legacy?”

“Yes,” McGonagall confirmed. “I got a letter from her mother early Saturday to keep an eye out, and I saw it tonight at dinner.”

“You believe that these two are the ones to end the feud?” Snape asked cautiously.

“Something much darker than us all is coming Severus,” Dumbledore sighed. “And they might be the ones we need to stop it.”

“But I don’t understand why stopping an old family feud solves anything.” Snape hissed.

“Because it’s not a family feud, it’s a house feud and always has been. For too long Slytherin and Gryffindor have been pitched against one another unhealthily and perhaps this can right what has been wrong for so long,” McGonagall noted hopefully.

............................

“Miss Lupine, you should be expecting a letter from your mother soon. I suggest you both read it together and decide for yourselves whether you want to accept what is in it or not.” Dumbledore explained.

“What kind of letter?” I prompted and McGonagall gave me a scolding look as Dumbledore simply smile.

“Oh, you are so much like your mother,” His eyes twinkled. “Give her my best and please remember, each of you are more than a name,”

_________________________

Draco walked down the hall with you beside him. He couldn’t think of a thing to say. There were too many to say. There was too much to talk about and it was driving him mad that you were lost in thought.

“Any ideas on where to go? To read the letter?” You finally spoke.

Your voice sounded unsure and afraid, with a nervousness that came with expectation. He had never heard you speak like that. You were always so sure of yourself—courageous, like any proper Gryffindor.

But now, your eyes filled with tears and worry. Your arms were crossed across your chest, as if they had the ability to keep you together if you held on tight enough. He knew that you never showed anyone this side of you—not even that Mudb- your friend Hermione. Because he never showed anyone either.

“Come with me,” He said, not giving anything away and led you through the castle wordlessly.

You followed him without a protest, a quip, snide remark, or question. And he couldn’t lie, it was nice; it worried him too, being afraid wasn’t in your nature.

Taking a sharp right, he paused, opening the door for you. You quirked an eyebrow and a teasing smile. You knew where he led you and it amused you, he could see it in your features. That was the you he knew.

You ascended the staircase and through the trapdoor with him at your heels. You faltered one and he caught you easily—knowing it would happen: it was the reason he had made you go before him—your cheeks turning a deep red as you quickened your pace.

Alone in the Astronomy Tower, Draco saw a small screech owl awaiting the two of you, letter attached. It was the same owl who had given him your letter all those nights ago, it must be yours.

You didn’t go to the owl—even though it chirped at you annoyed. Instead, you went to the window and stared at what he did almost every night that he couldn’t sleep: the stars blanketed over the mountain range and the lake as night consumed the world around them.

Knowing that you would want to gaze for some time, he took the letter for the owl and shooed it off, but it remained.

“I’ll give you something later Penelope, thank you,” You cooed softly stroking the birds head gently before it flew off.

Unsure of his actions, Draco stood close beside you, watching the night unfold with you. Your hand found his and his thoughts about what needed to be answered or what the letter held paused. Your warmth invited him in, lured him to be still and just... feel.

“I’m scared,” The confession left your lips. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for my mother to tell me what this fight was all about and now...” You turned to him, true despair on your face.

“Whatever it is, we do it together,” He murmured, “Remember, we get to choose if we want to accept it or not,”

“But don’t we have to?” Your thoughts mirrored his: he had expectations to live up to and he wanted to prove himself to his father and his family.

“We’ll see,” He reached up and stroked your face softly.

You pursed your lips as he offered you the letter. You took it and with one last hopeless look to him you opened it and read it aloud:

~

My dearest Y/n, and charming Draco,

I hope this letter finds you both well. I have written to each of your House Heads letting them know to give you time to read this together if fate allows.

Y/n, my darling, please stop your fretting, I can feel it from here. You are alright no matter what you choose, but I do hope you choose the path of love.

Draco, hello, we haven’t met formally, but I must thank you for standing up for my daughter against one of your own house. It was a brave and kind thing to do and you have my deepest respect.

Now, about the feud. I know you have asked many times what it has always been about and perhaps it is time to finally tell you:

Our families have always been intertwined in the fate of the wizarding world as pure-blood families. Long ago, it was said that one of Lupine and one of Malfoy decent would be the ones to mend the rift between pure-bloods and muggle-born.

You can see why this caused such a feud. I’m sure even now Mr. Draco you are thinking that this is preposterous, and perhaps you as well my child. For how can two pure-bloods whom hate another possible med anything?

Well, no one knows. And no one wanted to know either. The Malfoy’s were always against muggle-born and swore vengeance on them all. The Lupine’s have always been proud and swore to never fraternize with a Malfoy. Centuries and generations passed, and our stories have been twisted and distorted to what you know today.

I did try my love to keep you away as best I could from it, but some things are very deep rooted, and I am sorry that I failed you. But now it comes to you two.

From what I have heard from you my darling, it sounds as if Mr. Draco may be the one you were meant for. It was once called Consentire Animi Pace—an old thought that souls reached for another to bring harmony in the world around them through magic.

I am not forcing this upon either you, nor am I making assumptions. I would just like you both to know that it does exist and not to deny that it does and that it may be what our Antiqui were speaking of when the legacy was given.

My darling Y/n, I am proud of you no matter your choice and I love you without a doubt. I am proud of your achievements and your courage to reach out to someone you had no reason to reach out to.

My dear Draco, I am proud of you no matter your choice and I extend my love to you as well. I know that your parents are not as forgiving when it comes to family names as I am. You will have a home in our family—whether that be Y/n and I or the entire family if they decide to stop being so... Anyway. I am proud of you as well and for what you have done. You had no reason to protect my daughter and you did and I am proud of you on that fact alone. You have truly exceeded your expectations, whether your father sees that or not.

Don’t not be afraid of what is before you nor the choices that you must make. It is not about the right choice; it is about the righteous one—the one made with the right heart. It is easier to correct ignorance rather than disobedience.

My love goes to you both, both of you write me back please. 

Love, Magdalene Lupine

~

.

.

Part 7

[parkersbliss]

Moral of the story | P. Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker X Female Reader

Type: Fluff, but ends with angst

WC: 2.4K

Warnings: Language, Peter being a meanie

A/N: italics are memories, this switches between the past and present! Chorus signifies the present.

Summary: Not every guy is as he seems, but you really thought Peter was the one. 

If you want to be tagged see here.

 Masterlist

The song can be found here, I tried really hard to post it with this, but tumblr wasn’t having it  >:(

So I never really knew you

God I really tried to

Blindsided, addicted

Peter threw his arms around you, making you jump in surprise. 

"Hey gorgeous," He said through his laugh as you swatted at him.

"Hi, handsome," You reply placing the rest of your textbooks in your locker. "What's up?"

He rests his chin on your shoulder, "I was thinking you me and some coffee?" 

It was a simple date a small gesture, but you loved spending time with your boyfriend. Peter was always thoughtful and you two spent most of your days in a coffee shop with your homework and a few pastries. 

"That sounds perfect." 

Peter waited patiently as you finish packing up for the day. His hands slipping under your shirt to rub soft circles on the skin beneath them. 

You smile as the contact, Peter was always a touchy person. When you finished packing up you slipped your hand into his and he gave your knuckles a small kiss as you strolled out of your high school. 

Felt we could really do this

But really I was foolish

Hindsight it's 

Obvious

"What's wrong?" Peter asked, flopping down on the couch beside you. 

"Just been thinking," You mused, nuzzling yourself into his arms. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead and you smile up at him.

"About?" He ventures, brushing away a few strands of hair.

"us." 

"oh my gosh, did I do something wrong? Am I too touchy? Do you not like PDA? Or pets names, because that's totally fine and I comple-"

"Peter," You said, stopping his rambling. "I love our relationship, okay?" 

"really?" 

"Yes really, I just worry."

"About? Please tell me, I want this to be perfect." 

You cup his face gently, shifting from under his arms, "it doesn't have to be perfect, Peter. That's the beauty of relationships, you make mistakes and you learn." 

He nods his head, "so what's wrong?" 

"We graduate in a year, what about college? What if we have different paths or I got to LA or something crazy like that?" 

"(Y/N), that's a year from now. Don't worry ok? We can cross that bridge when we get there. For now, let's just enjoy this." He gestures to the movie and popcorn you have laid out. "And for the record, even if you go to a different college I will still love you." 

You smile and kiss him, your hands still cupping his face as he leans into your touch, letting out a content sigh. 

"This is perfect," You whisper, giving him another sweet peck. Peter smiles at you and throws an arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him. You cuddle back into his arms and turn your attention to the movie. 

Talking with my lawyer she said

"Where'd you find this guy?"

I said, "Young people fall in love"

"With the wrong people sometimes"

"c'mon Peter!" You giggled, dragging him by his hand into the rain. 

"You're going to catch a cold," He whines as the droplets begin to drip down his face.

"It'll be worth it. Dance with me?" 

Peter doesn't even try to deny you. Your eyes sparkle with excitement, bottom lip sticking out in a pout as your hands rub up and down his biceps. He sighs, "I could never say no to you." 

You squeal in excitement, grabbing his hands and moving them to your own beat. He begins to laugh as you swing him around, rain soaking your clothes and making your hair slick. Peter begins to twirl you, droplets flying off in a ring as your turn. He brings you back to his chest, a huge grin on his face as you laugh despite the cold. He lifts you and you squeal watching the bright lights of New York. The rain on your face is refreshing, but you can't deny the cold seeping into your bones. Peter sets you back down and runs his thumb gently over your cheekbones. Your heart hammers in your chest as his eyes roam your face and take in all your features. 

"I love you," He whispers, breath fanning over your face, but that wasn't what was causing the warm feeling inside of you. 

"I love you too."

Peter's eyes light up and he presses his lips to yours, his hands cupping your face as your rest on his wrists. He's gentle but passionate and you can feel your whole body on fire. The rain cooling you off at the same time. Without notice, he picks you up.

"You're seriously going to catch a cold." 

"still worth it." 

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

You can think that you're in love

When you're really just in pain

"You're late again." 

" 'm sorry, something came up," Peter said, sitting down next to you on the all too familiar couch. 

"Peter, this is the fifth time this week."

He turns toward you, "I know, I said I'm sorry." 

His sincerity doesn't reach his eyes, his usual eyes were full of life, but now they were void of any emotion. 

"What's going on?" 

"Nothing."

"Peter," You urged, you knew Peter and this wasn't him. 

"I said nothing, just drop it." 

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

In the end, it's better for me

That's the moral of the story babe

"I'm not dropping it, this isn't you. Something is going on and I-"

"I said drop it, (Y/N)!!" He shouted, making you flinch, but you'd had it with him. 

"I'm trying to help you! So don't yell at me." 

Peter stands up, "well maybe I don't want your fucking help. Just back off."

That hit hard, "I am your girlfriend, Peter. You can't just shut me out like that." 

His gaze is fierce, "I'll do what I please." He spat.

You run a hand through your hair, what had happened to that boy that wouldn't go so far as to raise his voice at you? Now all he did was curse you out. 

It's funny how a memory

Turns into a bad dream

When running wild turns volatile

"Parker, let's go!" You shout, waiting in the living room for him. Since you guys started dating you went on morning jogs together. 

"'m coming!" He replied, slipping on his shoes and stumbling out of his bedroom. May handed him a cup of coffee which he quickly drank, thanking her and grabbed your hand as you walked outside. 

"What took you so long?" You ask, playfully swinging his arm as you two walked to the park. 

"was up late... studying," He said hesitantly. 

You raise your eyebrows in suspicion, not believing him for a second. "Sure, I believe that."

His face goes pale, "What?" 

"I know you were up last night doing your stark internship. C'mon, Pete, you don't really think I'd believe you need studying?"

Peter laughs it off, slightly picking up his pace, "you caught me." He lets go of your hand as you both begin to jog in comfortable silence. 

"don't overwork yourself," You said, "unless you want to beat me right now." 

He wiggles his eyebrows, "Oh, it's on." Peter sends you a wink before taking off down the pathway. 

"Peter!"

Remember how we painted our house?

Just like my grandparents did, so romantic

But we fought the whole time

Should have seen the signs, yeah

"You ready?" You asked excitedly, a bright smile plastered on your face. You and Peter were going to be painting the apartment today.

"Sure," He replied, staring down at his phone.

You frown a bit, "Really? Because you're staring at your phone."

"Whatever," He grumbles, shoving it in his pocket and picking up a paintbrush. 

You didn't feel as excited as before, Peter's heart was in it. You hated that. When he only went along for whatever motive he had. Not for you. 

Panting in silence, you watch as he stares blankly at the wall. Paintbrush gripped in his hand, but no paint on it. 

"If you don't want to be here, you should've said something," You murmur.

"What?" He snaps, causing you to flinch with his tone.

"I said, if you don't want to be here you should've said something."

"What if I did? Would you have dragged me along anyway?" 

Your mouth hangs open, lost for a response. How could he think that? If Peter didn't want to be here, he shouldn't be.

"What? No of course not."

He snorts, "Sure." 

"Why are you being such a bitch lately?" You ask, annoyance in your voice. If Peter had problems he didn't need to take them out on you. Not like this, you'd been putting with him the whole week. His moods drastically changing and constantly taking his anger out on you. What went on inside that head of his? 

"I'm being the bitch? You've been the one butting in all the time and dragging me to places I don't want to be." 

You were taken back by what he said. So he acknowledges that he didn't want to be with you. Not even now. There was an aching in your chest, a dull soreness. The first sign of heartbreak. "you didn't say anything, how was I suppose to know?" 

"Of course I didn't say anything, you would've started crying."

"What the hell is wrong with you Parker?" You spat, slamming your paintbrush on the ground. Flicks of white paint covering the tarp. You could feel the tears in your eyes at his harsh words, to which he commented. "Here we go."

"Just get out, I don't need your help anyway."

"Gladly," He growled, before dropping the paintbrush on the ground and stomping to your door. 

Talking with my mother she said

"Where'd you find this guy?"

I said, "Some people fall in love"

"With the wrong people sometimes"

There was a knock on your door, you hadn't been expecting company tonight. Slowly, you pried yourself off the couch to open the door. There stood your boyfriend, Peter, with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. 

"(Y/N), hi, I'm really sorry about earlier, it's just with school and my stark internship, I've been stressed lately. I shouldn't have taken it out on you like that. You were trying to help, I'm really sorry. Please forgive me?" He asks, offering you the flowers, his eyes red bloodshot from what you presumed, crying. 

"Oh Peter," You said, guilt eating away at the broken boy in front of you. "Of course I forgive you." 

His whole face lights up as he grabs your waist and places kisses all over your face. You laugh, trying to push him away. 

"It'll never happen again, I promise." 

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

You can think that you're in love

When you're really just in pain

"For once, would you just listen to me, Parker?!" You cry, all the pent up frustration finally erupting. He's silent at that.

"You're missing our dates, you're treating me like some side chick, and you're distant, what is going on?"

"I said nothing, I don't want your fucking help (Y/N)! Can't you respect that in the least? It's like you need me to tell you everything about my life to be satisfied with yours, like if I don't tell you something your whole world falls apart because apparently, I'm keeping secrets."

That stung, tears developing in the corner of your eyes, who was he to say that? You didn't depend on him. You were getting more agitated with every word he spat, "That is absolute bullshit, I'm trying to help you. This has been going on for weeks, why can't you just tell me?!"

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

In the end, it's better for me

That's the moral of the story babe

"I don't want to, my god, let it go!"

"No, this isn't you-"

Peter cuts you off, "Cut it with the 'this isn't you bullshit' maybe you don't know me!"

"It sure as hell doesn't feel like I do, all we ever do is argue at this point. Have you ever noticed?" 

"Just drop it!" Peter tugs at the roots of his hair, a million thoughts running through his mind. Why couldn't you just drop it? He felt like you guys brought out the worse in each other. 

They say it's better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all

That could be a load of shit

But I just need to tell you all

You wrapped your arms around Peter tighter, hiding your face in his neck. Soaking his shirt with your tears. His hands rested on your back, rubbing comforting circles in an attempt to reassure you.

"I'm right here, baby. Everything is going to be okay."

You nodded your head slightly, lifting it to look at him through glassy eyes. Peter looks down at you with nothing but love in his eyes. He smiles softly before leaning down to press a soft kiss on your lips.

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

You can think that you're in love

When you're really just engaged

You're crying tears of frustration at this point, you only wanted to help him. You wanted the old Peter back, the one who loved to cuddle on the couch and show you off. "Then get out."

At that moment, it felt like someone had just slapped you across the face. Was he being serious? In the end, you knew he was, your heart had already broken for someone who didn't seem to care. Your voice was small after all the screaming, "What?"

"I can't be me with someone who can't respect my privacy."

"Are you serious right now?"

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

In the end, it's better for me

That's the moral of the story

"I realize that the longer you stay the more questions you're going to ask, you're going to be so involved in my life and I don't want that. I am my own person and you can't seem to understand that. I owe nothing to you." 

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

You can think that you're in love

When you're really just in pain

"Well, neither do I," Gathering the rest of your will, you grab your backpack and slam the door behind you. It took the last of your strength to not break down on his doorstep. 

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

In the end, it's better for me

That's the moral of the story babe

Taglist: @thegirlwiththeimpala​ @theolwebshooter​ @multi-universe21​ @honeybittersweet​

[fleckcmscott]

The Find

Summary: Arthur and Y/N tidy up their wardrobe. What he comes across surprises him.

Warnings: Smut, Swearing

Words: 3,664

A/N: This request comes from Karen - it’s the first one I ever got! Thanks to @sweet-nothings04​ for beta-ing and helping me improve this piece by sharing her thoughts!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

If you’ve sent me a request and I haven’t responded, it’s because I am working on it and will answer once it’s posted!

Instead of allowing a lazy Sunday, Y/N decided they needed to do a project together. She had too many clothes, she claimed. And Arthur could use some new ones. Though he disagreed with her assertion, never having owned much, he went along with it. Such suggestions were part of having a girlfriend, he'd learned. Sorting through the bedroom closet would be a couply activity, anyway.

It turned out to be nice, better than when he'd kept house alone. Her smile was infectious as they rearranged everything, and it grew each time they inadvertently bumped into each other. He succeeded in talking her out of donating a sheer blouse, insisting it looked good on her. She replaced the dry cleaner bags on his Carnival costume with zippered nylon ones. Then she retrieved a wooden box from the top shelf, sat on the edge of the bed, and patted the spot next to her.

Floral patterns were carved in its top and sides, and the center held a purple and yellow pansy, pressed under smooth glass. It was quite old, the corners worn, the front closure tarnished. The hinges released a quiet squeak as she lifted the lid. "These are my most important keepsakes," she said. Her degree was in there, the Christmas ornament her sister had made, and her divorce papers. The rose he'd brought when he'd come for dinner was now dried and delicate. And she'd held onto the cork from their first bottle of wine. The letter he'd written her after Murray was sealed in a clasp envelope to protect it.

Arthur's chest swelled. The small container resting on her lap was something she'd had long before they'd met, perhaps since she was a kid. It was astonishing he took up so much space in it. Maybe she'd like to keep one of the payment slips for the ring he was planning to give her. (They were currently tucked safely in his journal.) He wrapped an arm around her back and squeezed her to his side.

The bleating of the phone interrupted them, right when he was planting a kiss to her shoulder. "Wait for me," Y/N said. "I'll tell them to call back later." He watched as she left the room, admiring the slight swivel of her hips. After a minute, "Mabel, what's going on?" drifted in from the kitchen. Ah, her sister. That would take a while. Sighing, he stood and continued alone, hopping on the step stool and humming as he went.

The shelf was dusty. The old law books were likely from when she went to college. He flipped through a photo album and set it aside to go through with her later. In the back corner, there was a red, paper gift bag, its top neatly folded closed. When he retrieved it, the weight surprised him, and he studied it with a curious expression. She probably wouldn't be perturbed if he opened it - she'd shown him her mementos, after all. Gingerly, he took a peek.

A carton was in there, a foot long. Pictures of women in athletic gear were on the side. They were holding a white object to their elbow, their calf, their lower back. He read the sentences on the packaging carefully. "Helps relax muscles." "Relieves tension." "Soothing vibrations."

Oh. Oh. Arthur crumpled the top of the bag quickly as he giggled, his cheeks on fire.

On her radio show, Dr. Sally had said the massaging wand was revolutionary. That it helped educate women about their own bodies, learn what they liked. Y/N hadn't mentioned owning one. It would have troubled him a few months ago. His insecurities would have told him it meant he wasn't very good. That he wasn't enough for her and never would be. But because of his ongoing treatment and comfort with her, those concerns were minor today. And he was intrigued.

The women he'd pasted into his journal were often touching themselves, ecstasy clear on their faces. Even though he still found those pictures arousing, he wasn't stupid and knew they were staged. Experience had stripped away the illusion. But the thought of Y/N pleasuring herself made him shiver and lean against the closet's door frame. His mind filled with images of her sprawled on the bed, on the sofa, on the floor. The scenarios he'd pictured since they'd met were numerous. His mouth at the apex of her thighs while she tried to type papers for work. Her going down on him in the dressing room at Pogo's. Or his favorite, the one he'd gone back to most, joining with her completely as she fell apart, because of him and only him. If he asked, would she be willing to-

Upon hearing Y/N hang up, Arthur haphazardly tossed the bag back in its spot. He busied himself with the sweaters and shirts in the "keep" pile, folding and hanging them as needed. She started telling him about the call as soon as she came in. Caught between his natural bashfulness and the urge to blurt out what he found, listening was difficult.

She must have sensed something was off, because she stepped next to him and said, "You look warm."

He ducked away as she tried to feel his forehead. "I'm okay." That was only half true. It was going to take awhile for him to figure out how to express what he wanted. But he shot her a grin. "It's just a little hot in here, that's all."

~~~~~

Y/N's seamed stockings finally sent him over the edge three days later. He'd noticed them when she put on her heels at the door, and ogled her as she strode down the hallway after their longer-than-usual kiss goodbye. It was possible she simply wished to be pretty (which she always was, no matter what she had on), to be professional, to make herself feel good. Still. She knew those nylons turned him on, and he chose to believe she wore them for him.

He made a quick call to her at lunch and said he was looking forward to tonight. There was strain lurking beneath her kind tone when she asked, "Why? What's tonight?" Nothing, he clarified, rubbing the back of his neck. He just missed her. She sighed, told him her day had gone sideways, that she needed to go. But she couldn't wait to see him later and loved him.

Both to relieve his own nerves and to cheer her, he resolved to make everything perfect for her to come home to. That's why, rather than cooking together, he was stirring minestrone and adding pasta. Why he'd already set the table and put the bunch of pink carnations (her favorite) from the grocery store in the middle. Why the wine was open and ready to serve. The kitchen radio had been switched to the sixties and seventies music she preferred. He swayed along to it, even as he hoped one or two slower songs would play so they could dance.

He'd been trying to find the right way to broach the subject all afternoon. Stuttering through his request wasn't his preference. It'd be fun to be playful - if he could gather his courage. God, it would be absurd if he couldn't. Shouldn’t courage come naturally if he hoped to spend the rest of his life with this woman? "Y/N, I was wondering if you could-" Cocking his head, he tried anew. "I love you, Y/N, and I wanted to know if-" Rolling his eyes, he retrieved bowls from the cupboard. "It's your fault I can't think straight." He took a breath, stretched his arms, and tried to focus. Nothing felt right. He'd have to improvise.

The unlocking of the door and the thudding of her bag to the floor alerted him to her presence. He laughed lightly as he tested the soup, enjoying the thrill of anticipation. She approached in his peripheral vision. "Arthur, you didn't have to do all this," she murmured.

The gladness in her words made it worth the effort. He poured a glass of wine for them both. "You were having a busy day."

She took a sip and braced herself on the counter. "I had to run back and forth from the office to the courthouse. We were missing copies of motions for tomorrow's hearing. My typewriter's ribbon ran out and we didn't have any replacements." A puff escaped her before she turned to him. "But every thing’s lovely now. Come here.” She pulled him in for a kiss.

Arthur tried to pay attention while they ate; he disliked missing a moment of her. But she was already driving him to distraction. The way her lips pursed as she blew on the food before taking a bite. Her caresses to the petals of the flowers. How she kept touching his sleeve. When she untied the bow at the collar of her burgundy blouse, opened the neck to reveal the start of her clavicle, his stomach flipped. "I wanted to- to ask you a question," he said softly.

"I knew something was going on." She dabbed her mouth with her napkin. "You haven't said much besides 'yeah' and 'mhm.'"

Damn. He'd tried to be normal. "Sorry." A sheepish smile crossed his face and he smoothed back his hair. "I'm a little nervous."

"You don't have to be." There was excitement in her voice, barely contained, and she scooted her chair closer. "I'm sure I'll say yes."

He quirked a brow at her. "Um, okay." A sharp exhale as he sat straighter. "I've been thinking about this a lot." His gaze darted to hers, seeing it sparkling and filled with affection, before falling to his lap. He fiddled with his spoon as he forced himself to speak. "I found something. When we were cleaning."

A pause. "What did you find?"

The wine was sharp on his tongue when he sipped it. "The massaging wand?"

The blush on her cheeks traveled to the rest of her face and she hid behind her palm. "Oh my god," she laughed.

Having the advantage wasn't usual for him in these situations. It was refreshing. Luckily, she didn't seem upset, so he continued. "Dr. Sally recommended it on her show. You're beautiful. We both might like it. I mean, I know I would, but... Would you show me?" Her quiet nagged at him, so he changed his approach. "You turn on the light every time we make love," he teased. "Don't you remember when you came home and surprised me?"

She peeked at him, the corner of her lip lifted. "It's never even occurred to me. I can't believe it occurred to you." After a few moments, she cleared her throat. "I won't lie - it's...an arousing idea. And all this," she gestured at the table as she spoke, "has made me pretty hot and bothered." Her hand went to his inner thigh, fiddling with the seam. "Though I have to admit, I was expecting you to ask something else."

His eyelids fluttered at her caress. "What?"

Grasping the tie at the front of his pants, she finished her drink. "Never mind. I'm sure you'll ask me later."

~~~~

This was happening. It wasn't his imagination. Y/N was taking a fantasy of his, one that belonged in dirty magazines, and turning it into a demonstration of her love for him. Was it weird to be moved by something this lewd? He should be ashamed to have asked her. But he wasn't. And when he felt her smile as they lay in bed, his throat tightened. Their breaths were harsh as the pearlescent buttons of her blouse opened halfway under his ministrations. A soft moan left her when he cupped her breast, tweaked its taut tip through her bra, and she yanked at his shirt until he pulled it off.

She ground against his clothed hard-on and hastily unzipped her black skirt to slip it down. He swallowed thickly, following her movements, huffing at the sight of her dark red garter belt and matching panties. It wasn't often she donned those, preferring more practical undergarments. Had she, by some means, known what he was thinking when she'd gotten dressed that morning? The notion was silly but warmed him anyway. Relieved, he groaned and reclaimed her lips.

The dance of her fingers across the lean muscles of his chest caused him to suck in air, which he held while she skimmed past his ribs to his stomach. "I haven't done this in front of anyone before," she said, a little uncertain.

Arthur chuckled, letting her take his hand and guide it between her thighs. "I hadn't, either." He pushed the cotton to the side and fondled her slit, reveling in how she bucked into his touch. It was almost enough to get him to forget the show, to forget about his plan, to sheathe himself inside her without a moment's pause.

But she grabbed the vibrator off the stand and switched it on. Its buzzing was louder than he'd presumed, like a hornet's nest. Amusement must have shown on his face, because Y/N smirked and turned the wand to a lower setting. "Remind me to plug the clock back in when we're done," she said, shedding her underwear and kicking it off her foot. He settled next to her hips, boosting himself on his elbow to see her. Shyly at first, then growing bolder, she swiped and pulled at her outer lips. They drew back as they swelled and she giggled, running the pads of her fingers over herself. "You're the only one who could persuade me to do this."

He grazed her inner thigh, the straps holding her stockings in place, and pressed a kiss to her leg, observing as she lay the massager's rounded end to her core. Even as her pelvis arched slightly to meet it, she kept it in one spot - he'd thought she would have moved it around. The heat flaring in his groin was, thankfully, lowering his inhibitions, and he found he could ask, without anxiety, "Did you do it a lot?"

"I did this more after we met." He laughed happily, realizing he'd been the cause of her increased desire. A whimper fell from her as she moved towards the vibrator again, her frame trembling. Her brows pinched with every increasing undulation of her hips. "It's been awhile. I'd forgotten-," she gasped, "-how intense this feels."

When she began writhing, he watched the sway of her breasts, straining against her bra. Her stomach was quivering with every shallow breath, and he felt his own ardor heighten with hers. He leaned forward to get a better look at her folds. But, upon finding the toy covered her completely, he furrowed his brow. And it registered that he didn't need a prop involved; he just needed her.

Gently, he caught it, waiting until she met his gaze to turn it off and put it on the bed. "You're enough," he said quietly. "If that's okay." She nodded lightly. One of her legs spread to the side, the other bent at the knee. He shuddered as she held herself open, fingers drifting over her sensitive nub. "Are you - Are you thinking about me?" Say yes. Please.

Her explorations went lower, tracing the edges of her entrance, open and waiting for him, then dipping below to gather slick on her fingertips. "Yes," she hissed, tapping her bud repeatedly. She jerked towards her hand as she bit her lip. It was enchanting, watching her play herself like a well-tuned instrument. She seemed to know exactly how to touch her own body. What pressure to apply. How fast to go...

Her breast spilled out when she pulled down the cup of her bra, her head falling back into the pillow. Her thumb teased her areola and she keened. "You're all the way inside me." Another tug to her pebbled nipple, and the hand at her vulva hastened. "Your cock feels so good, Arthur. You fill me so well."

"Y/N, god." He hadn't expected pornography to spill from her mouth. Groaning, he pushed his briefs away and gripped his erection, running his thumb along the tip as he glanced from her face to her center.

The glistening of her arousal was spreading, a spot forming on the blanket beneath her. Her cries were becoming frequent, her body tensing. Her eyes opened and went to his length. "Get in me."

That took him aback. "What?"

"Get in me. Please." He scrambled out of his underwear and knelt between her legs, positioning himself so her thighs rested on his, and he held the soft skin of her upper leg. After a couple of quick pumps, he sank into her entirely, grunting at the sight of her reddened, desperate sex welcoming him. She stroked herself, first pulling at the clitoral hood, then circling it, more frenzied with every rut.

This was far superior to any photograph, any adult film he may have caught a glimpse of. Because it was personal. She was devoted to him, and he to her. And she was repeating his name, the syllables strung together and becoming unintelligible. Soon she wailed sharply and stiffened, her pulses gripping his cock. "Fuck me harder," she whined.

His movements stilled. While he wanted to give in, he feared harming her - he was stronger than his skinniness suggested. But she begged for him again, and he couldn't resist pressing her wrists into the bed on either side of the pillow. Their kisses turned hard while she brought her trembling legs about him and he plunged into her. A wanton cry escaped with each inch she moved up the mattress, with every pound of his hips. The sear of her surrounding him was intoxicating, and he took her nipple in his mouth, laving and sucking at it. Her body grew rigid and bent into him and she moaned, her muscles clamping around him a second time.

Their intimacy had traversed the scale from slow to fast, loving to urgent. But Arthur had only been unrelenting with her once. Her enjoyment hadn't been a consideration; she’d been a means to an end that night. And the guilt he'd felt afterward had prompted him to promise himself to not be rough without her explicit permission. Seeing her trust in him in action, feeling it in the embrace of her body, pushed him forward to give into what they both craved.

He threw his head back and fucked her, up on his knees, slipping his grasp from her wrist to entwine her fingers. He held her neck and the side of her face as he mashed their lips together, losing himself in her as he increased the punishing pace of his thrusts. His motions stammered, seeking his climax, going deeper and deeper still.

With one final shove he came, emptying into her with each throb as they clung to each other. His brain was foggy with pleasure, breath ragged and panting. Vaguely, he was aware of her tight hold on his ass, as if she coveted every drop of him. As he came down from his high, the last tendrils of pleasure fading, he squeezed her hand. The kiss he gave her was tender, soft. A stark contrast from how they'd joined moments ago.

Y/N was giving him that dazed grin, the one she usually had after lovemaking. But he felt the need to check. "Did I hurt you?" Averting his eyes, he brushed his knuckles over her collarbone.

She pecked his nose and raked her nails through his hair, her look full of adoration. "You could never hurt me." A giggle bubbled up. "I do need a minute to recover, though." He stayed inside her while he softened, nestling in the crook of her neck. "I'm proud of you," she said.

His eyelids shut and a toothy grin appeared as his heart clenched. "Why?"

"You weren't afraid to ask me. Well, even if you were, you did it, anyway." Her arms wrapped about his torso and she palmed his back. "And you trusted yourself to let go."

He dragged his thumb along the faint stretch marks at her areola. While what she said was accurate, he usually liked it softer. During the periods in which his anger or despondency nearly consumed him, when he thought he might erupt, he was afraid he would lose the ability to be gentle. So far, her love and support had helped bring that tenderness back, even if it took a couple of days. He ached for that to continue. "You know, when I- when I see things that aren't there... I always say the right thing. I'm funny. I know how to do good." He took her hand and placed a kiss to the back of it. "But with you it's real."

Guiding him out and off her, she turned on her side. "Because that's who you are, Mr. Fleck. Don’t forget that. I won’t." She nuzzled his nose. "How else could you have broken through my shield enough to have this ridiculous pillow talk?" He chuckled as she tugged on a curl. "I lost that part of myself for a long time," she sighed. "I'd hate to lose it again."

"I won't let that happen." He pulled her closer, caressing the edge of her garter belt. "Especially if you keep wearing these," he said lowly.

Leaning forward, she pressed her breasts flush to him. "Let's be ridiculous until we're old and gray."

"Mhm." Tears prickled but he blinked them away, managing a wide smile. It was one of her hints that she wanted to be with him forever. He prayed she would accept his proposal next week. "Only if you promise to laugh at my jokes."

Y/N traced his jawline and kissed his dark brows, her gaze shining as she gave her response. "Arthur, I'll laugh with you for the rest of my life."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @howdylilflower​ @sweet-nothings04​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @fallenstarsabyss​ @gruffle1​ @octopus-plasma​ @tsukiakarinobara​, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Marked (Part 24)

Dean x Reader

Word Count: ~4700

Warnings: Good ol’ fashioned missionary sex, heh. Discussion of some of the same issues that have come up so far in this series. 

A/N: Thanks to @stunudo, @dean-winchesters-bacon, and @fookinghelljensensthighs for checking this out in its early stages. Also thanks to everybody who has been so kind to this series; @dawnie1988, @the-chocolate-moose, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @covered-byroses... you all are so wonderful. 

This is the last “real” chapter of Marked, although there’s an epilogue coming soon and at least two codas planned already. I love these two fuckwits and I’m not ready to say goodbye to them quite yet. 

This references several other chapters, most notably Part 1 and Part 12. If you want to refresh your memory or catch up, the masterpost is HERE. 

The split lip from the barfight was the last visible reminder of Dean. It faded within a couple days. I stared blankly at my face in the mirror, when it was gone. I felt like I should have scars everywhere, thick and knotted, visibly holding me together. 

I kept busy. I dusted my little house. I bought a punching bag and set it up in the living room. I got my old job back. 

This is healthy, I told myself. This is normal. You’re doing the smart thing. 

I pulled up outside the roadhouse for my first shift in what felt like a lifetime, and then I sat there, frozen, with my hands on the steering wheel, suddenly paralyzed as I remembered the way he’d looked at me that first night, leaning over the bar and tossing back whiskey like it was water. 

I’d gone with him, that night, even though I knew how badly it might end. I knew he might hurt me. I let him strip me down, mark me as his own, fuck me and fuck me up until I was bruised and aching. This thing between us had been dark and messy and twisted from the beginning. It had always been painful.  

This is the right choice.

I took a deep breath, pulled down the mirror, checked my makeup. I stared at my reflection. I looked fine: pale, drab, washed-out, but fine. I couldn’t move. 

I didn’t want fine. I wanted jade eyes and ruby scratches across my back. I wanted pink-flushed skin under blistering hot water. I wanted freckles under my tongue and scar tissue under my fingertips. I wanted Dean. 

Painful, dark, twisted, messy… but it was ours, and it was honest, and we fit together. I loved him, broken pieces and all. My world was brighter, more vivid, more colorful with him in it. He was worth every moment of pain.  

Besides, I’ve always enjoyed a little pain with my pleasure.

This is the smart thing to do. 

I drove out of the parking lot so fast that gravel went flying. 

I never said I was a smart woman. 

———

The motel smelled the same. It hit me, when I walked in the door, and I had to stop and blink away the fog of memories for a moment. If I closed my eyes, I could almost taste him. 

I’d told him 8:00. I had ten minutes. 

At 7:56, I stripped down and knelt at the foot of the bed, ignoring the nasty rough carpet and the chill down my spine.

8:03. 

Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he’d decided it was easier to stay apart; maybe I was about to humiliate myself. 

I folded my hands in my lap and breathed: in and out. 

8:05.

Maybe the front desk mixed up the rooms, gave him the wrong key. 

In. Out. 

8:07. 

I started shaking when I heard him at the door. I closed my eyes and waited. 

The door swung open and then closed again. I heard a barely-there gasp and then nothing, just shocked silence and my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. 

In, out. 

I looked up at him. He was frozen, standing there staring at me open-mouthed, eyes wide and wild. He looked like he had just skidded to a halt at the edge of a cliff: poised on tiptoes, velocity still propelling him forward. 

He took one halting step, then another. I swallowed around the painful lump in my throat, my eyes locked with his as he crossed the last few feet between us with big rushed strides, and he fell to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut in a hunched, curled-in version of my own pose. 

We knelt, face to face, in silence. He slumped to the side, slowly, tilting his head against the bed as if he was too tired to support himself. 

My mind was blank. I’d completely forgotten the speech I’d planned. All I could think about was how goddamn beautiful he was; I looked at his lips as they parted around quick panicky breaths, and I looked at his freckles, and I clenched my hands into fists to stop them from shaking. 

“What is this?” he asked, voice catching on the words. 

My heartbeat was getting louder, thundering in my ears. 

“I wanted to show you,” I whispered. “That… I’m yours. I’m all yours, and I have been since the night we met.” 

Dean drew in a ragged breath. His eyes were darting back and forth, searching for something. Solid ground, maybe. There was nothing but open air beneath our feet. 

“But what about - everything? What you said?” 

There were so many things I wanted to say, but I was drowning in the sparkling green-gold of his eyes. 

“Can you just kiss me, first?” I said hoarsely. A shadow of a smile flickered over his features. 

He leaned in close, cradling my face in his hands, stroking my temples with his thumbs tenderly, and I met him in the middle for a kiss that was so much gentler than it should’ve been for all the raw passion behind it. 

We were both holding back; Dean’s hands were trembling, and I could feel the way he wanted to suck and bite and swallow me whole but instead he brushed his lips over mine chastely, again and again, taking tiny delicate tastes of my mouth. My entire body was vibrating with the barely-controlled urge to feel him all over me, and my skin felt too hot and too tight and I could barely fucking breathe, but I just curled my fingers around his wrists, holding his hands in place where they cupped my cheeks, and tried to remember which way was up. 

He let out a shaky little sigh and pulled away, just an inch at first, enough to nudge the tip of my nose with his, and then the rest of the way, slow, stretching the space between us like taffy. I released him reluctantly.

“I’ve got some shit I need to deal with,” I stammered, starting somewhere in the middle of my well-planned speech, all jumbled up and almost choking on the words, “and you’re all sorts of fucked up -” 

He let out a strangled laugh, and his hands twitched on his thighs like he wanted to reach out and lace our fingers together. 

“- but somebody told me once that it’s not a destination,” I barreled on, determined to get the words out. “Healing, I mean. You don’t just wake up better one day, it’s all about the steps. And I want to take those steps with you.” 

He scrubbed a hand over his face and bit his lip so hard I could see the skin around his teeth going bloodless white. 

“What if I hurt you?” 

I shrugged, smiling around the lump in my throat. “You did. But… I’m still here, right?” 

“That’s not what -”

“I’m still here, Dean. Broken pieces and all. And I’m sure you’ll hurt me again, and I’ll hurt you, because as far as I can fucking tell, that’s what love is; it’s showing someone your weak spots and handing them a knife and inviting them to cut you open. But we’re tough fuckers. We’ll live. It happens.” 

He was studying me, lips slightly parted, forehead creased like he was trying to solve a puzzle. 

“You’re serious,” he said, with a stunned little laugh. “You’re saying -” 

He hesitated, mouth working soundlessly, and then scowled like he did when he was trying not to cry. 

“You sure?” he asked hoarsely. I remembered the first time he’d asked me that question, and I smiled. 

“Yes.” 

He glared at a point somewhere over my shoulder.

“I’m going to hurt you again,” he said, and I could hear the panicky edge in the words. “I don’t want to hurt you again.” 

I almost laughed, the memory so visceral I could feel the phantom ache of his fingers on my thighs. 

“Do you remember what I said? The first night, when you said… ‘if I hurt you.’” 

“You said… Please hurt me,” he said raggedly. “But -” 

“Dean. I gave up control that night, just like this, and… I’m starting to realize, I was never going to get it back,” I interrupted, twisting my hands in my lap as the words started to spill out all at once. “I was kidding myself, thinking I could. When it comes to you… when it comes to us? It’s not gonna be easy, but we could work on ourselves for a fucking century and it wouldn’t be easy, so let’s fucking work on it together. I know it’ll hurt and I’ll never have any sort of control and… and you’re worth the risk. I trust you, to take that risk with me. I trusted you the night I met you, for fuck’s sake, I stripped down and I asked you to hurt me and I knew that you were worth the risk, and I don’t regret it for a fucking second, and even after everything…” 

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, shivering, trying to slow down. Everything I wanted to say was flooding out all at once. 

“Breathe,” he said softly, and his hands settled at my waist, firm but gentle, grounding me. 

In. Out. 

He tugged me closer, until I was straddling him, and shifted so that he was sitting with his back against the foot of the bed. I slipped my arms around his neck and leaned in, resting my forehead against his for a moment, steadying myself. 

In. Out. 

My vision had gone all foggy and strange. When I blinked away stinging-hot tears and forced the world back into focus, he was starting to smile, slowly, hope sparkling in his eyes like the sun coming out from behind a cloud after a storm. 

“I know exactly who you are,” I whispered fiercely. “I know that you suck at talking about your feelings and I know how bad things could go. I’ve seen all that shit you’d rather keep hidden. And I still think you’re worth the risk, so. Here I am. I’m all yours. I love you. I love you, dumbass, okay? I’m right here. Let’s do this.” 

“Okay,” he said softly. “Okay. Breathe.” 

I was lightheaded, so desperately, wildly, stupidly in love with him that there was no room left in my chest for something as trivial as oxygen. 

“In and out,” Dean repeated. He wrapped his arms around me, one palm warm on my lower back, the other pressing between my shoulderblades. 

“Okay?” I echoed, nudging my nose against his. 

“Yeah. Okay. I love you too, and... I’m in,” he murmured, and chuckled softly. “I’m scared shitless, but I’m in.” 

I let out a hiccuping hitch of a breath and then a slow, shuddery sigh. I wiped tears from Dean’s cheeks, brushing my fingers over his freckles and then down to trace the shape of his mouth. His kiss tasted like salt and felt like a promise. 

“Bed?” he whispered. I sniffed and nodded, unfolding my stiff knees and crawling up to get under the coverlet. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” I mumbled, as Dean kicked his shoes off. He shot me an oddly shy grin as he unbuttoned his shirt; I could see his fingers shaking. He was moving slow and deliberate, like he had to think carefully about every step, and I was freezing the moment in my mind, savoring the sight of every inch of skin even as my pulse hammered crazily in my ears and my fingers itched to touch. He fumbled nervously with his belt and almost tripped stepping out of his jeans, and we were both giggling, high and wobbly, as he finally lifted the comforter and got between the sheets with me. 

I turned on my side, facing him. He slid in close, hooking an ankle over my legs, fingers brushing my hair back before his hand settled on the side of my neck, and I slipped an arm around his waist. My giggle died in my throat as we stared at each other without saying a word. 

His eyelashes were dark and spiky-wet, but the tear tracks down his cheeks were already drying. The bedside lamp gave him a little halo of gold. He was smiling, and he was mine, and he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, broken pieces and all. 

I squirmed closer, inching in until I could kiss the corner of his smile, then the Cupid’s bow of his upper lip and the lush curve of his lower lip. I kissed the tip of his nose, then the bridge of it, and I kissed his freckles, running my mouth over them slowly before I pressed my lips to his temple and his cheekbone and his jaw. 

When I slid on top of him, rolling him onto his back, he looked up at me through heavy-lidded eyes, a slight wrinkle creasing his forehead, and trailed gentle fingers down the side of my face, reverent. 

I ducked down, nosing at the stubble on the underside of his jaw and then dragging my lips down the side of his neck, peppering quick kisses along his collarbone and mouthing at the round of his shoulder. I traced the edge of the anti-possession symbol with my tongue and shifted back, inching down his body until I could press my ear to his chest, right over the steady thump-thump of his heart. I rested there, listening, as I swept my fingers down his ribs, down his hip, swirling my fingertips in little circles. He ran his fingers through my hair slowly. 

I kissed my way down his body, inch by inch, the dip of his belly button and the jut of his hipbone. I licked down the crease of his hip, then up the flushed length of his cock, slow, taking my time; I could feel the pulse of a vein running under my tongue, could taste bitter salt at the head, could smell him all around me. 

His hand cupped my cheek gently and I turned, nuzzling into the touch, and then kissed his palm before looking up at him. He was watching me with something like wonder in his eyes, his face shining with the breathtaking softness that made him such a walking study in contrasts. 

When he looked at me like that, it was fucking impossible not to kiss him; I crawled up with my eyes locked helplessly on his, hypnotized, until I could press my mouth to his again, licking between his lips and losing myself in the taste of him. 

I didn’t want to stop kissing him, once I’d started again. He tangled one hand in my hair, flattened the other against my lower back, and he held me close with a barely-restrained urgency, muscles trembling behind a gentle, tender touch. We kissed syrupy-slow, deep and breathless and bruising, until my mouth was swollen and my skin was on fire with it. 

He rolled us over without warning, flipping me on my back and looking down at me with wild-eyed desperation as we both panted, trying to catch our breath. 

He kissed my neck with those puffed-red velvet-soft lips, dragging his teeth down gently until he could caress my collarbone with his mouth. It was such a careful touch; he wasn’t biting, wasn’t sucking, wasn’t leaving stinging overheated skin in his wake, but I still felt the intensity of it like a thousand volts as he kissed the hollow of my throat and the flat of my breastbone. 

He palmed my breast, calluses dragging at pebbled skin, and followed the rough dry touch with the slick soft warmth of his mouth, swirling his tongue. Heat blossomed low and deep in my belly. I ran my fingers through his hair and then down, stroking his freckled shoulders. His teeth scraped with just enough pressure to make me hiss before he soothed with his tongue and sucked gently, and then he did it again, alternating rough-soft-rough-soft. By the time he switched sides, my nipple was taut and aching. He just repeated the process patiently, tongue and teeth and lips working me over until I was whimpering and squirming under his touch. 

I could feel the heavy panting breaths from his open mouth as it grazed my skin. He kissed my freckles and my scars, nuzzled the soft give of my stomach, and when he finally slid down between my legs, he mouthed my inner thigh and brushed his lips delicately over my stretch marks before finally, finally, flattening his tongue over my clit and giving a long, slow, luscious lick. We both moaned in unison, and then he was opening me up with two fingers and tasting, teasing with sloppy open-mouthed kisses, stroking me with his tongue and humming like I was his dessert. 

Until Dean, I’d never really realized how intimate this could be, how vulnerable, how gut-wrenchingly sweet. It felt like he was fucking worshipping me with his mouth.

It wasn’t just that he knew how to touch me. It was the sounds he made, wet obscene noises like he was taking a slurping bite from a juicy overripe peach. It was the way he buried his face between my legs unabashedly, not just licking but leaning into me with his lips and cheeks and nose and chin, his stubble harsh on the insides of my thighs and his groans muffled against my slick skin. It was the way his entire body seemed to press into the swirl of his tongue, muscles rolling under the pale skin of his shoulders and his back, down to where his hips were rocking into the mattress like he couldn’t help himself. 

I twined my fingers in his hair and let my head fall back as my spine bowed up, my hips tilting and twisting to follow the movements of his mouth. I hooked one leg over his shoulder, my heel digging into his back and shoving him closer as my thighs started to shake. He sucked hard, lips sealing around my clit and making me groan, low and broken, as sparks of heat swept through me. 

“Slow - slow down, I -” 

He didn’t. He didn’t slow down, didn’t give me a chance to pull back, just did something incredible with his mouth as he curled his fingers into me, and the shimmery pleasure of it rippled up and left me shuddering. He made this desperate overwhelmed noise that I could feel vibrating against my clit, and all those sparks of heat pulsed brightly, flared, swelled hotter and higher until there was nowhere left to go. 

I just gasped as I came, dizzy and whimpering, riding the crest of it for what seemed like a long, long time. Dean was drawing it out, twisting his fingers into me gently, massaging my clit with his tongue, leaving me helpless, and I let it crash through me and carry me along until the waves started to recede. 

“Gorgeous,” Dean rasped, smearing an open-mouthed kiss up my hip as he crawled up my body, something about the slinking set of his shoulders turning it into a cat-like prowl. I slid my hands around his neck as soon as I could reach him, pulling him down into a deep, greedy kiss. 

My pulse was kicking up in a wild jig. My entire body was lit up with the feel of his skin on mine, with elation, with absolute terror and incandescent joy all at once. 

His hips slotted in solidly between my sprawled-open legs and he pressed down, grinding against me, hard and hot in the crease of my thigh. His head dropped and he buried his face in my neck, letting out a sigh. I could feel his long lashes fluttering against my sticky skin. His hair was damp with sweat at the temples when I ran my fingers through it, scritch-scratching at his favorite spot behind his ear. He practically purred at the touch before licking his way up my jaw. 

“Can I…?” he whispered, voice wobbly, lips pressed right up against my ear. 

“Please,” I breathed, and again: “Please, please, Dean, just - yeah.” 

He shifted slightly, reaching down between us, and I could feel the way he was shaking. He dragged the head of his cock down against where I was soaked and spread-open for him and he cursed, going still, shoulders heaving with a deep breath as he nudged against my slippery-wet center. 

“Not gonna - this is not gonna last long,” he gritted out, with a breathless laugh. I just fisted one hand in his hair, slid the other to the dip of his back, and pulled him in until he sank down, silky-thick and scorching-hot, so fucking deep, so fucking perfect. We both shuddered and clung to each other, breathing in unison with these big ragged gulps, sucking in air like we were drowning in each other. 

“Fucking - god, Dean, feels so fucking good,” I gasped, half-laughing, marveling. 

“You have no idea,” he growled, and he kissed my temple, my cheek, my forehead, then my mouth again. 

I was trying to pull him closer even though it wasn’t physically possible. I rocked my hips, feeling the drag of dripping-wet friction radiating out, rippling, rolling through me. 

“Love you,” I whispered, and I could feel his shiver all the way down his spine. His hips jerked deeper and my entire body throbbed in response.  

“I didn’t think - I didn’t know if we - if I’d ever…” 

His voice broke on a strangled sigh, and I lurched blindly for his mouth, kissing him hard and hot enough to swallow the little sob that followed. 

“‘m here,” I said fiercely, and I hid my face in his neck for a moment, eyes screwed shut, holding back the fucking tidal wave of emotion that was threatening to swamp me. 

“Mine,” Dean said, gravelly and tender. He drew back slow only to slide in even slower, a long delicious thrust that I could feel everywhere. He made an anguished sound through gritted teeth as I clamped down, squeezing the rock-hard thickness of him, arousal shuddering through me in wild shivery pulses. 

“Yours,” I promised. 

He was barely moving, clutching me close, breathing harshly in my ear. 

“God, I was so fucking scared,” Dean confessed. “When you called, I thought - thought we’d never get to do this again, and I just - never felt like this with anybody, not ever. Never felt this fucking close to anybody.” 

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Yeah, I - god, scares me so fucking much sometimes.” 

I could feel the desperation in his body, in every muscle, every inch of sweaty skin that was flush against mine, in the way he was quivering and trying so hard to hold back. He groaned, hips rocking in tiny shallow figure-eights. 

“Just - need a second, fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he panted, and he slid a hand down between us, smoothing the pad of his thumb over my clit. I arched up into it and he rubbed me in slow, steady circles, each roll of his thumb ratcheting up the tension that was building rapidly in my core. 

“Jesus, Dean,” I hissed, squirming and suddenly desperate. “Fucking close, c’mon, need you, I -”

He hitched up my knee and readjusted, and the next stroke felt like it was splitting me open, angled against something white-hot and sensitive inside me. My fingers slid down the sweat-slick expanse of his back as I tried to hold on. His hips smacked solidly against my inner thighs and he twisted up, screwed in deeper; I could feel the bruises already but I hooked my ankles more securely around his waist and bucked up to meet him. 

Instead of pulling back again he just stayed, swiveling his hips and grinding into that spot with spine-melting strength. I let out a whimpering moan, seeing stars. Dean was cursing, saying my name like a broken prayer, and molten heat was pulsing low in my belly. 

“I’ve got you,” he rasped. “Let go for me, sweetheart, let me feel you… I’ve got you, I’m right here, I -” 

“Love you,” I choked out. 

“That’s my girl,” he breathed. “Love you. Love you so fucking much, god.” 

I arched up as the next twist of heat pulled me tight like a bowstring, and through half-open eyes I got a glimpse of his face: the slack red shape of his mouth, the shine of sweat trickling down his temple, the glitter of unshed tears in his eyes, all of it bright and vivid and mine. 

“Love you,” I said again. It was the only thing I could hold onto; everything else was starting to dissolve in Technicolor swirls, and then the first spasm slammed into me and sent me spiraling out. I felt him jerk and shout and drive in deep, wet-hot bliss surging from where I was squeezing around him. There were big jagged lightning bolts in my guts, splintering out to my fingertips, my toes, every inch of me thrumming like I’d been plugged into the power grid. 

We shuddered through it together, straining against each other with a pull-push-give-take ebb and swell like the moon tugging at the tides. I felt so full, so complete, that it drove everything else away; the blinding flashes of electricity between us didn’t leave room for darkness, and the raw joy in my ribcage didn’t leave room for doubt. 

Little butterfly-wing flutters of pleasure skittered down my skin for what felt like a long, long time. We held each other. He ran his hands over me carefully, like I was something fragile, and I shivered. 

The world outside the motel room didn’t exist. It was just Dean and me, his body tangled with mine, breathing each other’s air and dripping with each other’s sweat, as naked and vulnerable and close as two people can be. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, and I just laughed. 

-----

He slipped up behind me while I washed my face the next morning, slid his arms around me, smiled at my reflection in the mirror. I admired the way the light caught in his long eyelashes and made them look like spun gold. He smoothed my t-shirt down over my hips and hooked his thumbs in my belt loops, holding me close as he kissed the side of my neck. 

We looked whole and perfect and happy together. I knew it wasn’t the truth; the scars were there, even if they didn’t show in the bright morning sunlight. I didn’t mind, though.  

Cuts scab over, bruises fade away. Our bodies knit themselves back together. When I look at my scars, I don’t see damage. I see proof that I survived. 

Every experience (every experience worth having, at least) changes you in its own invisible way. The things that shape you, the things that matter, leave their own scars. Love always leaves a mark. 

“What is it?” Dean asked, his eyes bright in the mirror. I turned in his arms and kissed him, just because I could. 

“Wondering how long it’s gonna take you to try to push me away again,” I teased, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Probably not long,” he said wryly.

“It’s okay,” I said, smiling. “I’ll pull you back. I’m stronger than I look.” 

He grinned at me, soft and sparkling. “You sure are.” 

“There’s this guy who’s been teaching me how to fight. He’s pretty cool.” I winked at him. “Let’s go get some food, I’m starving. Worked up an appetite.” 

I grabbed my bag and he turned off the lights. He waited for me by the door as I took one last look around at the shitty motel room, the stained carpet, the rumpled sheets, the thick dark curtains. 

Then I grabbed his hand, lacing our fingers together with a smile. We stepped into the sunshine together. 

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Next part HERE. 

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If you’ve enjoyed this story, please reblog, rec, or leave a message HERE! 

[mochisis]

Don’t You Worry Now

A/N: Sooooo HIIIIIII! This is my first post AND my first fanfic written by me; the begging is written by my friend Rachel since she’s a better writer than me. I hope y’all enjoy this and let’s make the most out of my time on Tumblr!

Summary: Brian May finds a baby badger all scratched up in the bushes and decides to take her in. 

Warnings: Injured badger, sad badger noises, and just fluff. 

ENJOY!!!!

After several weeks of seeing dark clouds floating overhead the horizon line, it was quite refreshing seeing that the morning sun had finally come out from its hiding. All of his surroundings were covered by a light coat of dew that seemed to sparkle under the source of the newfound light; even the air around him seemed to support the fact that it was now finally springtime, with its sour yet revitalizing scent of freshly mowed grass. 

The sanctuary seemed to be in its full glory, with the gentle sunlight beaming upon its side; even the animals that rest inside of the building were moving with more energized actions. Certainly, this made the job of the staff slightly more difficult, but it was worth it to see the small creatures seemingly show off a radiant smile with their eyes. 

After a few hours of concentration on his job, he was finally given a short break to relax and get to move around a bit, to stretch and maybe take a small snack or two from the mini fridge in the staff room to chew on. Choosing to go on a quick walk around the area, he slowly stood up from his chair and walked towards the back door, slipping on a jacket, though it wasn’t exactly the best choice for clothing in current temperatures. 

He heads outside to where the beautiful woods would be laying around. The sun had welcomed him by gazing upon his arrival into the land of trees. It’s warm and attractive. The moss on the collapsed tree seemed to put the charm to the beauty of the forest, and the lily pads on the sparkling lake seemed to be the highlight to it all. 

  He sat down on a rock full of the green texture covering the whole forest, probably meditating, hand cupping his face and taking a moment to think about what great life god has given him. As he always says, he recommends it. His meditation was suddenly disturbed by a small noise from the bushes. It was a chirp-like noise but it wasn’t necessarily the chirp of a bird. He approached the green and thorny bush of where the cries of the creature might be coming from. Slowly and steadily, so he won’t fritten the critter. It’s whines stopped when he swept the bushes leaves out of the way to make room for view. What he has spotted was a very heartbreaking sight to even describe. 

 A small baby badger cub the size of a kitten was lying in a bush of thorns with tons of scratches covering its body. It was as heartbreaking as seeing a dog being abused or watching someone or something die on screen. Quickly, he scoops up the poor creature leaving cuts on his arm. The crying continues and holding the fritten badger, he reassures it and introduces himself, “Oh, I know…,” taking a moment to check and see if it's a male or female, “Sweetheart. Shh Shh...there there now. My name is Brian.” 

 Brian took a gaze at the bush and wondered how the cub had gotten into the thorny bush. The tree above it seemed to give him the main idea of how it happened. According to the studies he had learned, Badger did have the ability to climb trees and learn at the age of one and so it came to the conclusion that she was trying to make her way up the tall tree but then collapsed into the bush of thorns below. 

  For the badger cub’s own sake, Brian tucked her into his vegan leather jacket and hurried out of his surroundings of trees and green moss. Soon enough, he was able to see the building of where the care for animals takes place. Brian enters the sanctuary telling the staff about what had happened. Luckily, they found an open room for the badger to give her the treatment she needs. 

  Brian stayed by the badger cub’s side to comfort her. “Oh, there now. I know you’re scared, but me and Clare are going to be taking great care of you,” Brian cooed to the fritten little beast. Soon enough, he’d see an Irish redhead enter the room with a long sweater up to her ankles and wearing Dr. Martens with a wedge as tall as a small pencil. “Hello Dr. May. I see that you found this little guy in the forest you said, right?” said Clare. “Gal, actually,” he corrected the vet. “Yeah, I found her in a VERY thorny bush and I couldn’t resist taking her in. She looks so badly injured.”

Clare hummed in agreement and took a look at the badger. “Well then, she needs a name. What should we name her?” she asked the guitarist and astrophysicist with a poodle like hairstyle.     He took a moment to think and with a little hesitation, a name popped into his head. “How about the name Rosamund. It sounds like a cute name.” They both smiled at each other. Rosamund does sound very cute and unique. She had counted all of the scratches on Rosamund and it had come to a total of 30 scratches and five opened cuts. She looks at Brian and says, “I will be right back with the syringes. That way we can start her treatment.” 

  Walking away after receiving a thumbs up from Brian, he gave her a sweet smile as Rosamund stared at him while he stroked her soft fur. “That’s it, lovely. I know to you this seems like a very sketchy place to you, but we’re going to do the best we can to get you back into great shape,” said the intelligent man. Clare came back with two syringes so they could begin the treatment. “Okay now,” said Clare, “I will place these syringes into the cub. They will make her a little sleepy and so she can feel less pain for when I’ll stitch up the open wounds.” Brian looked down at the Rosamund and gently rubbed her mini paw with his colossus thumb. “Don’t worry, sweetie, this will hurt but only for a little bit, okay?” he says comforting Rosamund. He looks up at Clare and tells her, “We’re ready.”

 She takes out the first needle. Brian holds the badger gently as she inserts the sharp object into her backside. Rosamund lets out a tiny wail and starts fidgeting out of Brian's arms. For him, it breaks his heart to see an animal in so much pain. He gains back his grip and reassures the baby badger, “Shhh, yes I know it hurts sugar, but just one more little bee sting and we’re done.” The vet continues by taking out the second needle and this time inserts it into her little arm. Another wail escapes her mouth but, oh this one was louder. 

  “Hey, hey. It’s okay. No more. That’s all we have to do, sweetness. You’re such a brave little cub yah know that?” said Brian as he strokes Rosamund’s soft fur. 

     One Week later

Brian finds Rosamund playing with Lulu in the badger garden and couldn’t help but smile. “Why hello there you little rascals,” he smiles down at the playful critters. It’s been a week since he found Rosamund all scruffy in the thorn bush and she has been recovering very well after they insert some stitches into her open wounds. He was very proud of himself for finding Rosamund, because if it wasn’t for his walk into the woods, she would’ve not survived. Brian thinks about one day releasing her back into the wild when she grows older and so she can reunite with her badger family. If Rosamund can speak then she’d be thanking him for saving her life.

[starrystellars]

even the spiders dance | one-shot

a/n: hello!! i decided to write something for my baby natasha since no one ever really looks back at her and whatever she has been thru. i felt like i needed to study her a little bit more and do justice for her since mcu is unable to fucking do so. i didnt proof-read bc english aint my first language so there's no point anyway hhhh i’ll might make a part two but i’ll see how well this is received. anyways!! hopefully yall like this and drop a like and comment if u please

synopsis: natasha tries to get rid of her traumatic past by making something sad into something beautiful. she ends up falling in love with a hip hop dance teacher instead. | fem! reader

warnings: mentions of past trauma (ptsd), overly cheesy writing

word count: 4,7100

New York’s hazy morning breeze was a welcomed refresher against Natasha’s pale skin, slowly peeling off the worries of the past couple of nights. The early morning sun was almost blinding to a naked eye, especially after a long night spent indoors with the lights off, loud bird chirping ticking her off more than usual. Spring was physically knocking on the city’s doorsteps, but unlike every other person in the Big Apple, the redhead didn’t seem to be ready to give up on the winter’s presence just yet. To someone who was raised in the middle of a cold Russia, warmth was something that felt incredibly unfamiliar, and even after years living in a bustling city, she really never felt at home with the sun tickling the tip of her pointy nose.

Natasha had always been a pretty private person, and even after moving into the tower with the rest of the Avengers, she hadn’t seemed to give up on her habits. As someone who was raised to become a fearless killer, she couldn’t just slip up and let her guard down, even when she did consider the people around her to be more or less a family. Kind smiles and banter with the people she lived with was indeed like a soothing balm over her past traumas, but healing was a marathon, not a spurt, which she knew better than one could think of. The assassin was somewhat in peace with her journey, but those past days she had been getting the short end of the stick; dwelling in screeching nightmares that left her sheets sticky, and occasional moments of anxiety that seemed to attack her out of blue. She, like most of her teammates, was haunted by the things she had seen, but other than the people around her, Natasha was the best at hiding it. Red Room training was brutal, but it was something that was almost impossible to shake off. If you learn something by birth, you don’t know any better — at least that’s what she tried to tell herself over and over again, to justify the fact that she couldn’t just let other people in. Even with her unavailability of trusting others, she had slowly tried to take part of the team, even when they were baby steps. After releasing SHIELD’s intel online, she had found herself hanging out more with the people she shared her living quarters with. Wilson and Rogers were one of the people she was tied to the most, leading up to her going all the way to her sparring with those hunky boys every once in a while. For her, training had always been a private moment of the day, but Natasha couldn’t help but to notice how she had grown to love early morning jogs around the closest park to the Avengers tower with the bunch. They made her feel whole and in peace with herself, even when it was almost impossible to keep up with the serum-infused Captain, who left Sam and her bite dust every single time.

"Romanoff, you good?" The Falcon was trying to catch his breath, after both of them had finished up those ten laps around the greenery. Steve, who looked like he didn't even break a sweat during training, perked up his head upon hearing the pair, cocking eyebrows questioningly. The redhead wasn't sure how the Sam had noticed her changed behavior, but at the end of the day, they spent a good amount of time with each other. "Yeah, just a little rusty, I guess," a little smirk grew on her lips, as she shook her head ever so slightly, while trying to calm down the rapid breathing that was caught in her throat. A highly skilled spy or not, even she had hard times catching up after running like a headless chicken. "Black Widow? Rusty? Unheard of," Sam laughed while showing off a perfect row of pearly white teeth, leaning forward to place his hands on those thick thighs of his, still pretty much out of breath. It was a funny sight to see the taller man drenched in sweat, grey sweatshirt looking like it had just came out of the wash, as he tried his best not to fall on the ground thanks to his shaking legs. "It's true. I haven't seen you like this since the day you spilled all of your secrets to the world," Steve finally spoke up, as he took a couple of steps forward towards the two. His laid back attitude was a refreshing look, since the super soldier was known for being pretty uptight at times. "What's wrong?" Natasha let out a deep sigh, placing hands on her hips, as she looked at both of the men in front of her with blank eyes. Over the years, she had learned how to disguise emotions pretty well, and this time it was no exception. For her, there was nothing more scarier than let others know how she really felt like, and being cornered like that wasn't ideal. Her walls were high and mighty, however, they were on a shaky ground. "Let's just say that avenging has been a pain in the ass lately," Natasha gave an empty smirk at both of them, not even trying bothering to explain. If the two would be smart, they'd leave her alone. "If that's the case, why don't you just do something else for change? Like, I don't know, learn how to cook or something?" The Falcon finally stretched to his full height, shrugging his shoulders, after letting out the words flow into the thin air. "You think I don't know how to cook? How cute of you, Wilson," Natasha flashed a sassy smile towards the soldier, who didn't seem to be bothered by the cocky attitude. Their banter had always been like that, acting out as a competition who could jab at the other one the hardest, and it seemed to work better than well. "I'm not just a pretty face." "Sam has a point. Maybe there is something that you like to do?" Steve butted into the conversation, getting both of their attentions quite fast. "The world has been actually quite a decent place for a change; perhaps you can take a day or two off. Just saying." Natasha was about to let out a snarky comment towards the Captain, who definitely didn't seem to take a day off, but decided to keep her mouth shut for once in her life. There was a moment where she was seriously considering to mention how her life revolved around work, just to keep them off her back, but something she had tried to keep away from her, struck her like a lightning. Maybe there was something that could help her, after all. **** The music was booming behind closed doors, multiple different sounds overlapping with each other, creating a wave of mess that was hard to listen. A faint sound of an overly positive voice was bouncing off the walls, making all the ears ring in the near mile radius, and Natasha couldn't help but to cringe as she got closer to the wooden front desk of a sleek entrance hall. All the noise in the room was overpowering, and the redhead was highly considering turning around on her heels, and walking away. Yes, she had listened to the only people she was close with, only to realise, that maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all. The morning Sam had gave her the idea, it had sounded like a good plan, but at that point, she wasn't so sure anymore.

Dancing. Red Room was known for its brutal training programme that was dedicated to shape young minds to become trainwrecks. It was all about discipline and rules, brutal force and violence, but somehow it felt like a distant home for her. Ignoring all the grim details, it was a place where she grew up to become her, even when the rest of the world would see her as a monster. One of the main programmes was dancing, which was no surprise; it was highly believed in Russia, that this form of art was one of the top levels of strong individualism, since the training was more than physically damaging. Red Room or not, most of the girls in normal dancing schools were emotionally fucked up and dropped out after a couple of years. Natasha had witnessed some of that treatment around her childhood, but nothing could ever top the way she was brought up. Regardless, she found peace in dancing. Before she had joined the Avengers team, it was the only way for her to let out some steam, alongside of fighting, to take away all the stress that was pending up deep inside of her. She loved the way her body would effortlessly find its way to form a perfect attitude terriére, or how the music would flow through her body like it was taking over every cell of her firm form. There was no pain nor suffering, just a calm mindset and happiness within. However, she wasn't sure was singing up to a dancing school actually worth it. Yes, she could've easily used the Avengers gym to train her 'rusty' moves. She was also completely aware of the fact that she indeed could've asked Tony to make her a completely space, just for the matter, but somehow she needed to feel normal. Even when she had deep scars running down her soul, especially ones that were attached to the act of art, she couldn't help but to crave normal human functions, even when pretty much the whole world knew she was nothing more than trouble. Being around other people was also a good way for her to separate her old dance training from her future; she truly hoped to get rid of all the flashbacks that were bothering her daily. The cold walls of the Avengers tower barely resembled the peeling wallpaper and the poking foundations of the place she used to call home, but the empty atmosphere was enough to send her on the edge during the darkest of hours. If she could just move on amongst everyone else, she could probably get her privacy back. "Hi, how can I help ya, miss?" The cheery voice of a service desk person was purely artificial, and Natasha wanted to scoff at the smile that was almost as tight as the girl's ponytail. However, she forced a mirroring smile on her painted lips, fingers automatically reaching for the strap of her gym bag as a habit. "I called in a couple of days before for the dance studio rental; it was supposed to be at three today. The name is Natasha," the redhead followed closely as the service person went through a thick calendar that looked like it was about to fall apart any second, thanks to all the added post-it notes and clips. It didn't take a too long for her to find the booking amongst all the mess, and Natasha was soon met with another blinding smile. "Oh, yeah! For an hour, right? Just go to the end of that hallway. Your room is number eight and the room door should be unlocked," the woman said, before continuing. "If you need any help with the audio equipment, just come here and I'll be happy to assist you!" Without saying anything further, Natasha turned around to face the corridor that service lady had pointed at, heading down the brightly lit hallway with a curious look on her face. She tried her best to map out the building, just in case of an emergency. It had became a habit for her, and no wonder, taking mind her profession. Better to be safe than sound, right? The short corridor was filled with room after another, each one having a small window to peek in, and the woman couldn't help but to curiously take a look inside of each and every one of them, while she kept her steady pace forward. It wasn't a long trip behind the door that had a big "8" painted on it, and Natasha automatically rested her hand on the handle, as her green eyes found their way to look inside of the window that was radiating with yellow light. Someone was in there. Natasha pulled out her phone with a confused look painted on her features, as she checked the clock on the bright screen. It was already past the time she was supposed to be there, and she couldn't help but to double check the number on the door -- not that it was hard to miss, anyway. Fixing her gaze back up, she tried to see anyone inside. The window was small, and it pretty much covered most of the area, so it was almost impossible to see more than just a small strip of the room. So far, no one had entered her field of vision, so she wasn't sure was it a good idea to just burst in there if someone was still finishing up their workout. Natasha herself hated to be surprised like that, and she surely wasn't going to do that to another person, at least not in a situation where that kind of an element wasn't needed. She was about to give up and go back to the reception, before something, or more likely, someone, entered her view. The urban music, that was barely audible through the door, matched her sharp and clear moves, and the flow of her body was almost intoxicating to look at. How the person carried herself exuded confidence, and there was not a single flaw in her performance. The girl on the other side of the door was skilled, and Natasha couldn't help but to feel extremely fascinated. It was a new feeling; something that she hadn't been thinking about so much before, but she couldn't help but to dwell in it. The whole situation was so weird to her, and she wasn't sure how to act. On top of her confused feelings, the redhead had no interest in the hip hop culture, not even when Sam tried his hardest to get her hyped to some old classics, but seeing the girl dance to the beat of the music that she couldn't really figure out, she regretted her past actions and kicked herself mentally. Her hand was hovering over the handle, like she wasn't sure what to do. Of course, she could've went in and mentioned how the time other girl's time was up; it would've been a completely normal thing. She had been fighting against criminals of different kinds, so acting up wasn't completely out of character for her. However somehow, entering the room seemed like a bigger task than hunting down the whole HYDRA -- but something was supposed to be done. Yes, she was an agent, but goddamn, hanging out in a corridor just staring at an unknown person was way too much, even for her. That's why she had to make a decision to push the handle down and enter the room. There was an instant welcome of heavy urban music, which made Natasha's ears ring. The heavy air, that was caused by a lot of movement was almost choking, but the redhead didn't seem to mind. Her twinkling green eyes were fixed to the person, whose back was towards the door, unaware of the situation that was unraveling behind her thanks to the loud music. She was clearly packing her stuff into a black duffle bag, almost identical to Natasha's own, and the infamous Black Widow couldn't help but to let a slight smirk rise on her lips. Suddenly the whole room went silent, as the unfamiliar person stretched to her full height, and finally turned around to face Natasha. "Shit!" You let a loud yell escape between your lips to the sight of an unfamiliar figure at the door. The jumpscare made you almost drop everything that you were holding in your hands, including the phone you had just pulled out to check the notifications. The woman at the door could do nothing else than smirk at you, and to be honest, it would've been an understatement to say that you were embarrassed. "Sorry about that," the husky voice of the newcomer sent shivers down your spine, and you really weren't sure should you be afraid or not. There was something eerily familiar with the figure and the outline of that woman's face, but you just couldn't point out who she was. "The door was unlocked, and I thought it was good to let you know the time's up." You were hyper-aware that you were late; you kind of always were. It was a bad habit, and not something you were really proud of - especially since you had classes to teach and you really didn't want to take the minutes away from your students. Time flies when you're focused, and that truly was the case that day too. On top of that, no one really tended to rent that part of the studio anyway, so you were pretty much safe being tardy for a couple of minutes. "It's okay, it's my fault anyways," you let out a huff, and even when you felt a slight heat rising on your cheeks, little did you know how that small gesture almost melted the person that was standing on the other side of the room. If there was a word for Natasha's feelings, it would've been whipped. "I probably should start carrying a watch or something," you added, shrugging your shoulders as you took a step closer to the woman, whose delicate features made you easily swoon. There was a certain cold look on her pale face, but you could see clearly how soft her gaze was, and you swore there was more to her than just the front she put. "Are you new here? I haven't seen you before, and I pretty much know everyone who hangs around the studio," there was a slight giggle that escaped between your lips, as you studied the woman, whose expression clearly didn't even flinch. You got lost in those big, emerald green, eyes that seemed to be alert in a way, but you insisted to yourself that it was a good idea to poke the sleeping bear bit more. "None of my students sneak around to scare me, so I thought I should ask." "Yeah, I've started to rent this studio for now," Natasha wasn't sure how much to reveal to the girl, but since the other person sounded eager enough, it was her time to open up a bit. For her, it almost felt like a breath of fresh air to chat normally, without having to stay on her toes, but it did take a toll on her in a way. Old habits stuck hard, and past Natasha wasn't about chatting and being fun. She meant business, but she desperately wanted to let her go, and maybe meeting new people was a good way to at least try. There was no way a stranger could be dangerous to her, especially in a place like this. Especially a girl like her. "My skills are a little rusty, so I thought about getting my game back on. It's been a while I've put on my pointe shoes," a slight smile rose on her painted lips, as she cocked her head to the side, ever so slightly. The assassin couldn't help but to keep her eyes fixed directly to the girl, taking in her beautiful features that kept on mesmerizing her. Just right before, she had been fierce and strong, but the version that was standing right in front of her at that moment was even more breathtaking. "Wait, you're a ballet dancer?" The girl questioned, raising her eyebrows so high they could've easily creeped up to her hairline. That got a giggle out of Natasha, who couldn't help but to find the gesture adorable. "I guess I am," she answered to the girl, who took a couple of quick steps, right to her face, toes close, barely touching Natasha's. The redhead almost flinched by default, ready for an attack, but she kept her cool better than expected. "You need to teach me! Most of the people in here only know modern or hip hop, and I'm so happy to find someone who is good on the classical side!" You couldn't help but to squeal, smiling so bright that you were afraid you'd look crazy in front of her. Somehow, the woman nodded collectively, a smirk on her full lips, and you felt like you had made a friend after all. "Or if you'd like, just drop by my class someday! I know, I know, hip hop dancing is mainstream and everyone does it, but if you're interested, there's always space for a one more person," the girl looked more than happy to share the invitation with Natasha, and the redhead couldn't do anything else than adore her pure intent. It had been such a long time since the assassin had witnessed anyone be so lighthearted and gleeful, that she had to wonder was it all just a good dream. Maybe she was still in her bed, dreaming about a future she couldn't have, but after considering pinching herself, she got to understand it was truly a reality for her. "I'd love to," the words escaped between Natasha's lips before she was able to catch them, and before she could even regret what she had done, the sparkling eyes of the girl caught her off guard. It was almost like a magical moment, them looking at each other, and Natasha couldn't shake off the warmth in her chest that was gradually growing and spreading across her body. Finally, after years, she felt like warmth was home. "That's glad to hear! I'll be here every day in the class next door, so pop in whenever you want to. I better get running now, so I hope to see you someday!" You felt awful having to part with your newly found relationship, but you were running late once again, and couldn't risk getting kicked out of the dancing school. It was bittersweet, but there was a hope growing inside of you that you'd meet her again. **** It took a five-day wait to meet up with the woman you had seen in your usual training hall. Yes, you clearly counted, and wished every single day that she would pop into your class to even say a simple 'hey'. Maybe it was too much from you, to act like you had actually bonded with the woman in a short span of a couple of minutes, but something inside of you told that you'd most likely would see her again. Everytime the class door would open, your eyes would shoot up to see if she would strut inside, wearing those gorgeous black training clothes she was wearing the last time you saw her, but that never happened- until one beautiful Wednesday day. She was standing in the middle of the empty training studio, hands loosely resting on her hips, green eyes searching the room like it was the eighth wonder of the world. Soft sunrays that were peeking through the light curtains bounced on her skin, making it seem like she was glowing like an angel. She was not facing you, but you could study her side profile like one would do in a museum, mapping out the details of her features. The all-black attire complimented her shape perfectly, and you couldn't help but to catch yourself staring at her with a big smile on your lips. "This room is so much better than the one that I'm using," there was a soft smirk lingering on her lips as you took a step closer, as you lowered the duffel bag on your shoulder to the ground. The redhead took a peek at you over her shoulder, finally facing you fully. There was a moment of silence, as you both just looked at each other, but to your surprise, it was comfortable and understanding. Just like it was meant to be. "Thanks. I mean, bad for you, but it's nice to hear that," you started blabbering, but the blessing laugh that was let out by the other woman was so intoxicating, that you forgot how awkward you must have looked like. "So you finally decided to pop in to learn some moves?" "No, unfortunately I have a job to do. I just thought that I should drop by to give you these headphones that I found from the corner of the room after you left last Friday," the woman said sheepishly, and you couldn't help but to feel a little disappointed. You truly had too high hopes for seeing her again, especially in your own class, but you managed to let a smile crown your lips. The woman took a step closer to you, pulling out neatly wrapped headphones from her black gym jacket, holding them out towards you. "I kind of figured they're yours. If not, then enjoy a free pair," the redhead grinned, tilting her head in an adorable manner. You grabbed them from her small hands, brushing over the soft skin, trying your hardest not to seem like a creep. She just gently smiled at you, piercing green eyes soft as ever, and you swore you could have melted right then and there under her gaze. The slight moment in between the both of you was soon to be broken by the heavy door opening right behind you. Both of you turned to look at the person who entered, who was one of your best students, whose face clearly flashed to deep red as she laid her gaze on both of you. She was seemingly confused, pacing back and forth at the door, before leaving without saying a word. The redhead gave out a slight chuckle, as she turned to look at you the last time. "I guess it's my time to go. Duty calls," those spoken words were soft, almost like a whisper in your ears, and you wanted to savor them until the end. The woman took a couple of steps closer to the door, smoothly passing you by as she went on with her saying. "Your students are starting to come in anyways." "Will I see you again?" Maybe the words you spoke out were desperate at best, and maybe you shouldn't have said them at the end of the day. However, you saw the mysterious woman hovering her hand over the handle of the door, like thinking about something, and you could feel the heartbeat in your chest grow rapidly. A moment of silence, before there was another line let out in the heavy air of the room. "Maybe." The one word was more than enough to give you hope for the upcoming. It was like a bright light that kept on giving you energy on a dark day. Maybe you were being a little way too melodramatic, but you just knew, she was going to turn your life upside down; no matter good or bad. There was no promise made, no nothing, but you felt like that one word itself was a silent way of saying how she would come around- and you were ready to give her all the time she needed. With silent smiles, you finally parted ways, and as the redhead merely had escaped the room, couple of your students bursted into your class. The whole situation was so chaotic; people talking over each other, no one making any sense whatsoever. A confused look was present on your face, as you tried to make everyone calm down and get some sense out of the people that had entered the room. It took a good while to get the people simmer down, as you turned to look at one of your students with a gaze that was more weirded out than ever. "What is going on?" A huff escaped between your lips, as you shook your head to the chaos that had already passed on. You could clearly see the teenagers in front of you looking at each other with big, almost plate-like eyes, just like they wouldn't believe what you had just said. "What?" The pressuring voice that you let out truly got their attention, and finally one of them turned to face you fully, with admiration in her voice. "Was that the Black Widow?" Oh shit.

[longassr1de]

Stained

Pairing: Doyoung x fem!reader

Genre: smut 🔞

Word count: ~3k

Summary: In which you and Doyoung are self proclaimed mortal enemies, and all your friends are tired of the underlying sexual tension neither of you ever seem to notice.

Warnings: Shit attempt at plot. Slight femdom reader, switch!Doyoung, oral (female receiving), a complete waste of drinks, getting locked in a room, oh and uuhh an otphj.

A/N: I actually hate this and might delete it later but... I just wanted to have some new content on here, I guess..?😞

It had been the most wonderful of days, emphasis on was. The sun was shining, there was an amazing breeze, you’d finally finished your week and were ready to relax at home for the weekend. That was, until he happened. You were making your way across campus to your car, eager to enjoy some of your favorite music and refreshing air conditioning, but sparing a glance at your phone due to an incoming message was all it took. Due to your distractedness, you had managed to bump into someone, spilling the coffee in your other arm all over the innocent bystander. But this was no ordinary bystander, it just so happened that you had the misfortune of running into your self-proclaimed mortal enemy, who was now glaring at you and cursing everything you stood for as the realization and implications sunk in.

“Do you ever look where you’re going, Jesus Christ,” Doyoung begins to complain, seething at the sticky iced substance seeping through his knot sweater and down onto his jeans. He must have assumed you never pay attention to where you’re going due to you always pretending to be very interested in whatever was on your phone when he was around, little did he know that was just so you would avoid having to deal with him and his attitude. When you finally look up at him, having felt like all of this happened in slow-motion despite not even being a minute’s worth of time, you find yourself caring a lot less than you would have if you’d spilled coffee over... well, just about anyone else.

“Oops,” you ooze sarcasm, giving him the fakest of smiles as you fully intend to just keep walking by. Doyoung quickly moves to grab your arm, exasperated by the cold shoulder he was given after something he didn’t even cause.

Was there really any one solid reason you hated Doyoung, you pondered. The way he always seemed to carry himself around your presence had never quite rubbed you the right way, let alone not having gotten off on the right foot to begin with. You’d sat next to him once during a sociology lecture you’d been late to after having overslept, and he made sure it was absolute torture for you, relentlessly teasing everything from your pajama pants to the night before’s smudged mascara. It was the little things about him, you think, that pissed you off the most. How arrogant he was, how much of a know-it-all he was, and how he always bragged about his family’s money, flaunting endlessly. So as you come back to the moment, watching as Doyoung prattles your ear off, you realize he’s expecting an answer to a question you never heard; all of his monologue had sounded to you the way a fish in a bowl would hear anything, truthfully.

“Come again?” you say with clear disdain.

He begins to repeat himself, but not before rolling his eyes to high heaven and dramatically running his hand through his bright blue hair- wait, since when had he had colored hair? You mentally slapped yourself to try and focus, which seemed to be something you were incapable of today. “I asked what you were going to do to remedy the situation?” He arches a brow and crosses his arms expectantly, instantly regretting it and uncrossing his arms as his sweater sticks to his skin in all the wrong ways.

“I was just planning on remedying my mood by walking away from you entirely, Dodo,” you chastise, mocking his sour attitude with a childish nickname. As if he wasn’t already tired from a long day, running into you had been the cherry on top, and he was about ready to tear you and your smart mouth a new one by this point.

“Look here your highness,” he emphasizes the pet name but appears as if it had burned his tongue to even offensively call you such a thing, “listen to me, and listen very well. I, quite frankly, couldn’t give less of a shit what you wanted, much less if you’d rather I dropped dead right now. You fucked up and you spilled your coffee on me. Now you either get it together and fix the situation, or I’ll fix it myself, and it won’t be pretty,” Doyoung spat, turning red in the face by the time he’s done yelling at you in the near desolate parking garage.

“I hate to break it to you, but the situation will never be pretty, not as long as it somehow involves you,” you snort, leaving him to stew in a puddle of blind rage and coffee stains.

It isn’t until about two weeks later that you even see Doyoung again, but you can be sure that he has not forgotten about his revenge for even a minute since. And it was just all too easy now, seeing you at the library studying for your exams, and just his luck that you’d picked today of all days to wear a white t-shirt. To him, god was a woman and her name was Ariana Grande, but to you... karma was a bitch, and you were about to find out his name was Kim Doyoung.

As you’re turning the page to answer one of the final questions of your psychology review, you see someone trip out of the corner of your eye, noticing a second too late to dodge the oncoming downpour of nearly an entire red Gatorade bottle. Once again, in slow motion, you watch what feels like a murder scene of your hard work and innocent shirt, all the meanwhile Doyoung has the audacity to smirk at you before acting the victim. As he gets up to clean off his arm in the bathroom, you grab onto it and glare at his form. If looks could kill, he’d have been burned to a crisp the second your eyes landed on his form.

“Is there something that seems to be the matter, darling?” he grins cheekily down at your shivering form, lips upturning further victoriously when you can’t seem to find an answer. “Or has the cat got your tongue?” He’s gone before you know it, satisfied with having been able to even the score.

And so the childish war began, with either of you attempting to trip one another, or steal a parking spot from the other, or just screw each other over at the campus cafeteria somehow. Both of your groups of friends were honestly sick and tired of the way you two would act when it came to the other, and had decided upon a revenge of their own; a mouse trap of sorts for you both to dispel the underlying tension that had gone unnoticed to everyone but the both of you.

One of your closest friends had invited you to a dorm she’d claimed was having party, and you were more than happy to oblige. (Phase 1 complete.) Meanwhile, Doyoung’s friends had lied through their teeth, managing to convince him that they were bringing over some guests to have a boozy game night. (Phase 2 complete.) It wasn’t until you were being shoved into the bathroom of said dorm upon arriving, hearing the door lock from the outside, that you had noticed Doyoung sitting on the floor, having already been locked inside. He may not have been Einstein, but he was no idiot, and now that he knew what his friends’ plan had been all along, he was absolutely furious.

“Are you kidding me? So what, this was their master plan? Lock us in a room and hope we don’t kill each other?” Doyoung runs his hands through his messy hair for the umpteenth time since being stuck in the small room, feeling as if his roots would be tugged out any minute now.

“Or maybe they were hoping you’d confess your undying love for me, aww how romantic!” you gasp dramatically, cooing before blinking innocently at his deadpan expression, although you were anything but. “Did they at least leave us any food or drinks?” You start to look around the bare room, grateful to at least have kept your phone on you.

“I’d first profess my undying loathing for you,” he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes, standing up to try once again and open the door somehow. You simply watch him struggle, takin a seat on the sink and trying to lie to yourself about totally not checking him out in that tight little tee of his. Perhaps you could loathe someone’s entire being and yet still think that maybe, just maybe, they weren’t completely unattractive in your eyes. (And other lies you told yourself as you absolutely did not imagine scratching up his broad shoulders.)

You hadn’t even realized you were say dream until Doyoung had snapped you out of it. “The hell are you thinking about that you’re biting your lip for?” he muses, wondering how you’ve remained calm instead of trying to fight his head off by now. “You must be real hungry if you’re that spaced out.”

“Yeah, starving.” Lying seems to be all you can do today, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself from losing the last grips of your sanity.

“You’re always welcome to eat my ass,” he retorts, smiling sweetly as if he’d offered anything of value.

“First of all, what ass? And second of all, fuck you.” You picked at your nails, starting to feel boredom hit.

“Fuck me? You’re more than welcome to, if that’s how you’d like to kill your time in here,” Doyoung teases back, curious as to how far he could push you, wanting to see you break.

“The nerve! To think I would ever fuck you, in your dreams!” You scoffed at the proposition as if you hadn’t just been wondering what it would feel like to ride him a few moments ago.

“In my dreams or yours, darling? Is that why there are bags under your eyes, are your wet dreams of me leaving you restless?” You felt your jaw drop at his shameless statements, racking your typically witty brain to come up with any sort of retort. Any conscious thought leaves your brain when Doyoung leans in and purrs at your ear. “Why not make your dreams a reality then?”

You’re unsure of just how it happens or why you go for it, but before you know it, you’re pulling Doyoung in by the collar and sucking on his bottom lip, dragging it away with your teeth as you pull back.

“W-What was that for?” he asks, incredulous.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” you say as you lean back in your seated position, almost falling deeper into the sink before he catches you out of reflex. His arms on your waist have you feeling some kind of way, you realize, and it isn’t long before you’re devouring his lips in another kiss. He lets out a little whine as you move down to kiss across the expanse of his throat, pausing to suck at his Adams apple and making his knees buck in the process.

“You’re all talk, aren’t you?” Your eyes sparkle at the realization, watching as Doyoung freezes in fear of being caught. “You act tough but you let yourself get bossed around in bed huh? No, actually, you get off on this, don’t you?” Your newfound confidence seemingly oozes out through your pores, a wicked grin playing upon your lips as your nails scratch lightly along his spine, forcing a shiver from him. “So tell me, are you gonna be a good boy for me, or am I gonna have to punish you like the little bitch you are?” Your eyes don’t falter in registering the way his mouth almost visibly waters.

“N-No, I’ll behave, I swear!” Oh, this will be fun, you thought. You’ve only ever been in charge a handful of times, but you craved the power that this kind of intimacy brought you. Let alone the fact that you’d managed to get the Kim Doyoung, former bane of your existence, on his knees for you. Quite literally.

You remain seated at the edge of the sink, having tugged your dress upwards just enough so that Doyoung could properly eat you out. He wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t his tongue that had impressed you, no, it was his fingers. He had long, slender fingers that curved just right inside of you, making you clutch at the edge of the sink until the color of your knuckles began to shift. As you saw his free hand reach down to coax his length through his pants you reached for his hair and pulled him off of you.

“Did I tell you you could touch yourself?” He murmured a negative, trying to pout as if it would change your mind, because he felt as if he was going insane from ignoring his throbbing length. “You’ll only get to come if you play nice, so if I catch you touching yourself again, you’re gonna regret it,” you scold. Doyoung makes you come around two of his fingers, biting lightly at your clit as your hands can’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away entirely. You end up opting for the latter as it becomes too much, breaking away from him to catch your breath as he pants from exhaustion. “Should I be nice and let you have some fun now?” To which he nods enthusiastically, unconsciously letting out a small moan at just the thought of it all.

You guide him to sit on the floor, straddling his lap as you do so, unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans and briefs down just enough to pull out his length. You slowly take his cock in your hand, just barely grazing at first and luring him into a false sense of security. He closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall behind him, a string of profanities leaving his mouth as your own sucks at his tip. Your thumb runs down his sensitive shaft and you deem him hard enough by now after all your teasing.

“Ah ah, open your eyes, I want you to look at me,” you command as you peel his arms away from your hips, allowing them to settle on your lower thighs instead so he couldn’t control your movements. Weakly, Doyoung opens his eyes to look up at your face, wondering when the little devil in front of him suddenly became the angel on top of him, holding the key to a paradise of pleasure. Your grab his cock as your hips slowly sink downwards, running his length through your wet folds, enjoying his whimper before you lower yourself onto him completely, thighs now in contact with the rough denim of his jeans. Short, jagged breaths escape past his lips, his vision blurring as his glassy eyes try to fathom the pleasure of your tight, wet heat encasing his needy cock.

“P-Please, do something, anything,” he mutters out, too scared to disobey but too horny to stay quiet. You shush him gently before slipping your tongue past his lips, beginning to ascend off his shaft before lowering yourself back down, repeating the process in a tortuously slow manner. You enjoy every single one of Doyoung’s moans that you swallow, a few grunts of your own when your self control begins to slip, grinding against him every time you descend and meet the added friction of denim. Chasing your second orgasm, you remind him that he can’t cum until you give him the ok, rubbing at your clit until you’re seeing white and the coil in your belly hits just right. You’ve just finished coming all over his cock when you pull away of him and climb off his lap, leaving him baffled as to why you were tucking him away and zipping his jeans back up.

“D-Did I do something wrong? What happened?” Doyoung grabs at the hem of your dress like a lost child, eyes wide and mouth gaping in disbelief.

“Sshh, it’s ok baby, you’ll get to cum, we’re just doing something different now.” He’s too wrapped up in finally being allowed to come that he thinks nothing of your strange ways, his brain was mush at this point under your heavenly touch. You stroke his length over his pants, placing open-mouthed kisses across his stomach as you wait to exact the perfect revenge. And you get your wish when moments later, he’s coming hard and fast, a large, dark, wet spot forming across the front of his light blue jeans.

You fix yourself up using the bathroom mirror, making sure you’re presentable when you jangle the doorknob, and sure enough, it finally gives way this time. Looking back at Doyoung who looks like he might pass out on the floor any minute now, you bend down to wish him farewell. “Thanks for the orgasms, baby boy,” he smiles shyly in return. “Oh, and I hope you enjoy walking back to your room covered in cum,” you finally bring up before walking out of the bathroom and out of the empty dorm room. Only once you had left and Doyoung had gotten over his post orgasmic bliss did the meaning of your words sink in... you’d gotten your revenge by leaving him with an even more questionable stain, making it look like he’d just finished jerking off in the bathroom. And as he goes to quietly leave the restroom, he runs into all three of his roommates, eyes widening comically upon their collective laughter. It looked like this war was far from over, but perhaps a truce could be called in the form of the age old system of enemies with benefits.

[icebirdsmateforlife]

reach for the sky (part 1)

Sid works a shitty job and uses his free time to put workout videos on the internet. Geno does the same, from the other side of the world.

A/N: Hello! :) Anybody still here? I promised new fic, and I finally have something for you. This is part 1 of a multichapter story and I’m going to update it as frequently as I can manage. Chapter 1 is just over 3k. Low rating, but it’s most likely going up to Explicit in future parts. This is going to be a SidGeno fic, of course, but there will be mentions and later an appearance of an ex-boyfriend/sometimes-hookup, just in case that’s not your thing. Okay, I think that’s it. Special thanks to @sheepassisted for the encouragement. And thank you also to everyone who’s sent me nice messages while I was gone, that really meant a lot. <3

“So,” Sid says, smiling into the camera. “You guys did a great job, making it through the whole thing. Let me know if there’s anything specific you’d like to work on and I can put something together for you in one of my next videos. Have a great day, and I hope to see you back next week.”

He’s been saying those same sentences so many times by now it comes out on autopilot, and he knows it probably sounds a little rehearsed, but he still gets enough views on his channel. So all things considered, it probably doesn’t matter that much. He gets himself a bottle of water from the kitchen and leans back against the counter — he’s going to have to get in a proper, longer workout for himself later, but doing these little videos is fun. More than he’d expected when he started doing them, honestly. It’s fun to do something that he hopes will inspire at least a few people.

He doesn’t bother showering. He’s headed for the gym anyway once he’s watched through the video to make sure it’s usable. He doesn’t usually do a lot of editing, unless he screwed something up during the routine and has to start over. But today’s video should be fine; just a quick fifteen-minute thigh workout for beginners.

His phone rings, and he goes to pick it up off the coffee table.

“Hey, Flower,” he greets, and takes another long drink of water.

“Dinner tonight,” Flower says without greeting. “7pm, my place. Bring wine.”

Sid laughs. “What if I have plans?”

Flower huffs out a breath. “You will cancel them. It’s rude to turn down a dinner invitation from your best friend.”

Sid doesn’t have plans, and he doesn’t feel like cooking either, so this works out rather well. He also doesn’t feel like being alone. “Don’t you teach yoga until 7?” he asks, and Flower sighs.

“Cancelled. Burst pipe in the wall. Looks like we won’t be able to use the room for at least a week.”

“Oh. Well, that sucks.” Sid puts down his water. “Is it just the yoga studio, or -”

“The rest of the gym is fine,” Flower assures him. “You can go work out right now like I know you want to.”

“Okay,” Sid says, relieved. “I’ll see you at 7, okay?”

“See you then,” Flower says. “Don’t forget the wine,” and hangs up.

Sid smiles, drops his phone onto the couch, and gets his camera. He has a video to check and upload and then he can go and have some fun. He also has to put all the furniture back where it belongs, since the only way to have enough space for all this in his tiny apartment is to shove everything to one side of the room, allowing him to film in front of the empty wall by the window. It’s not the most convenient, but it works.

***

There are a lot of things that Sid enjoys about doing his videos. Reading through the comments isn’t usually one of them. But it’s a necessary part of this whole thing, since he needs to know if what he’s doing is helpful at all, or if anyone has comments or requests.

It’s not that he gets any hate in those comments. Most of them are very nice, just the usual “great workout!!” or “I’ve been doing this every day for a week and I’m feeling much better already, thanks!” He likes those. It’s why he’s doing this. To help people feel better in their own bodies, especially people who maybe can’t afford a gym membership or anything like that. People should be able to do stuff and learn about ways to exercise without having to pay money they might not have. Exercise is for everyone, after all. So, yeah. Most of the comments are really nice. It’s the few that comment directly on the size of his arms or butt and specific things they’d want to do with them that make him uncomfortable. Luckily, he’s learned to mostly ignore them when they happen.

He’s back home early and has some time before he needs to leave for Flower’s place, which is just down the block anyway. So he settles in with his laptop and finally tackles the comments from last week’s video: a simple 20-minute core strength workout.

It’s all a lot of the same. The nice stuff that makes him smile, and then there’s one request for a cardio routine that makes him wince — he’ll do it but it’s not his favourite thing to do — and one comment in what looks to be Russian, judging by the letters. And because it might be something important, some legitimate criticism or maybe another request, he copy and pastes it into Google translate.

“Nice workout,” it says. “I’ve been looking for something like this and it’s perfect. Thank you and greetings from Russia! Sorry, my English isn’t good. Maybe I’ll study for next time.”

Sid smiles. He’s not one of the popular people on YouTube and having a viewer from all the way across the planet is kind of nice. He types a message into the translator, “Thank you for watching! I appreciate it. Let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to record next!” and copy and pastes it into a reply. He doesn’t do replies often, but he wants to this time.

***

“Did your ass get even bigger since I saw you two days ago?” Flower greets him, pulling him into a quick hug and then slapping his butt as Sid walks past him into the house.

“Haha,” Sid says, and hands Flower the wine. “What’s for dinner?”

He likes hanging out here, in Flower’s small house. It’s comfortable and welcoming and he’s been here a lot since he moved into the city and met Flower. Who immediately took him under his wing and befriended him with a determination that Sid truly admires. Sid has other friends, but he sometimes thinks he’d be lost without Flower.

“Hi, Sid,” Vero says, and Sid smiles at her and hugs her, too. She moved in not that long ago, and he’s still getting used to her being here when he comes over to hang out. She’s nice and he likes her and considers her a friend, but it feels like Flower is settling down, maybe starting a family soon. He’s a few years older than Sid, but the thought still makes Sid’s head spin a little bit. He still feels like he barely even has his life together, still struggling to even pay rent some months, and his best friend has a house and a career and is probably going to get married in the not too distant future, to the same girl he’s been dating since he was a teenager. It’s all so stable and safe and grown up. It’s not that Sid is jealous, but...okay, maybe he is a little bit jealous.

“We’re ordering pizza,” Flower says. “I was going to make chicken casserole, but I think the oven’s broken.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Sid says.

Flower waves a hand. “We still got a microwave until we can have it repaired,” he says. Sometimes Sid envies his ability to always stay positive no matter what.

It’s a nice evening — the pizza is good, the wine is good too, and Vero has the best stories about the customer’s at the small boutique she works at.

And yet Sid can’t help feeling a little down all through dinner, and even when they move to the couch to keep talking until a second bottle of wine is gone as well.

It must be nice, he thinks, to have somebody to come home to. Somebody who is happy to see you. He’s never lived with anyone like that and hasn’t even dated in...well over a year now, and he’s lonely.

But at least he has friends who love him, and he knows that’s worth a lot. So he keeps smiling and ignores the worried looks Flower keeps throwing him.

***

It’s a little after 10 when he gets home that night and finds he accidentally left his laptop open earlier. He just means to close it, but when the screen wakes up as his finger brushes the touchpad, he thinks it can’t hurt to refresh the open page just once to see how many views he got on his new routine so far.

There are a few already, but also a notification. He has a message. He doesn’t get messages often.

When he sits down on the couch and opens it, the profile photo is the same one from the Russian commenter earlier, but this time, the message is in English.

“Hello Sidney,” it says. “Sorry bad English. You are very nice. I like video. Watch more from you, also very nice. I write you to practice English. Sorry if this strange. But I like your video. Have a nice day. Greetings. Evgeni.”

Sid reads it, then reads it again, and then hits reply. He may not reply to comments much, but with messages he always makes a point of writing back to people to say thanks or give advice if they ask for it. Evgeni’s message definitely deserves a thank you.

“Hi Evgeni,” he writes. “I’m glad you like my workouts. And don’t worry, your English is fine. Way better than my French for sure. I hope you have a nice day too and I hope to see you back here in the future.”

He hits send, then puts his laptop down and stretches his arms up over his head, stretching out his back before he gets up and heads towards the bathroom to get ready for bed. He has to be at work early tomorrow to open up the store. He’s not really looking forward to it — hates his job, to be honest — but he does have bills to pay and food to buy so it’s not like he has a choice. So as much as he’d love to stay on the couch for another half hour and listen to this podcast about random funny facts that he’s found a few weeks ago, it’s definitely bedtime for him.

***

There is a new message when he checks his phone over breakfast the next morning. It’s from Evgeni. Apparently he took Sid’s “I hope to see you back here” as an invitation to keep talking to him, and Sid can’t really say he minds. He likes talking to people. And he admires Evgeni’s dedication to learning English.

“Thank you Sidney,” Evgeni writes. “I’m glad you think my English not so bad. I’m work hard, try be better. But not have people for talk with English, so maybe much is wrong. You say to ask if there’s video we want. I’m think do some warm up maybe. Is very important. People forget sometimes. Greetings from Evgeni. Have a nice day.”

Sid thinks about it. It’s not actually a bad idea. He always focuses on the actual workouts; he’s mentioned the importance of warming up and cooling down a number of times, but he’s never actually made any videos for it.

He hits reply and writes back.

“Hey Evgeni, that’s a great idea, thank you! I’m going to think of something and put together a video. Two videos I guess. One for warming up and one for cooling down? I think there should be both. You’re right, people shouldn’t forget about it. Thanks again, I appreciate your input. Have a great day too!”

He has no idea what time it even is in Russia, but when he thinks about it he realises that Evgeni lives in the future and it must be the middle of the day for him already. Whatever. It’s never too late to wish somebody a good day.

He has to leave for work then, to spend his morning offering advice on running shoes and protein powder while his coworker is working the counter. It’s exhausting, having to smile and answer the same questions over and over all day, re-folding clothes that customers leave in a heap somewhere, and explain patiently that no, he can’t conjure those shoes out of thin air in size 10, but they can be here in two days if he orders them now, okay? It’s the opposite of fun most of the time. But it’s what he gets paid for, so he has no choice. It’s just not exactly what he dreamed of doing with his early 20s.

He doesn’t get a chance to check his phone again before lunch, and he’s not even surprised to find a new message from Evgeni. He’d sort of been expecting it at this point.

“Hello Sidney, I’m glad you like idea. I think is very important. I’m sure you don’t need idea from me, but some yoga is good stretches. Easy. Can be good for start. I’m do some videos also, lot of warm up I get idea from yoga. But is all Russian. Sorry. But I’m sure you will have very good idea without me. I will watch for sure. Greetings from Evgeni.”

Sid bites his lip and puts his sandwich down. He’s never much liked yoga, no matter how much Flower keeps poking him to try it, but now he’s curious. He follows Geno’s username to his channel, and yeah, there’s quite a collection of videos up there. He can’t read any of the titles, so he just clicks on the shortest one, which is just a little over six minutes.

What he sees is...not quite what he expected.

Evgeni is tall. Really tall. With long skinny legs and a quite impressive upper half. And his face is...Sid knows he should probably focus on the video instead of staring at the guy’s face, but Evgeni has gentle, sad eyes and a smile that makes Sid smile too, and there’s just a sparkle of something a little mischievous in his expression. His nose is a little big and his lips are chapped and his hair looks just a bit sweaty and he’s beautiful.

Sid doesn’t think he really has a type. But he does like tall and athletic. And, apparently, also a kind face and bony feet and very large hands. And a really nice butt, honestly.

Evgeni’s voice is soft, and the gentle rhythm of Russian is almost soothing to listen to as he does a lot of the same stretches that Sid likes to do, but worked into a nice, easy flow that looks a lot like Flower’s yoga.

Sid watches the entire video and then locks his phone and goes for a walk around the block before his break is over.

He knows he should reply, but it suddenly feels weird, now that he knows that this guy who’s been sending him messages looks like...like that.

He feels shy, all of a sudden. Which he usually isn’t. Only around very attractive Russians, apparently.

He will write back later, he promises himself. It’s just been a while since he’s really allowed himself to look at people like that and Evgeni really has very impressive shoulders. Sid feels a little ridiculous.

It was just a dumb workout video, for fuck’s sake. So what if the guy has a kind face and really large hands.

Maybe he should call David, see if he’s dating anyone right now. It’s been a while since they last saw each other, and obviously Sid’s loneliness and need for physical contact that’s more than a hug has reached a critical level. David would laugh at him for years if he found out that Sid got turned on by watching a stretching video, even if Flower used to tease him that “Perron is perfect for you, he’s as sexually attracted to gross and sweaty as you are.”

But no, he tells himself. He’s just frustrated in a lot of ways right now, but he’ll get over it. And write back later.

***

Later turns out to be that evening, once he’s home and has had dinner and nothing more to do for the night.

“I’ve checked out your videos,” he writes to Evgeni. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, but maybe I’ll try to follow along to one anyway. It looks fun! Maybe I will get some new ideas for my own warmups from that. A fresh perspective and everything. Thank you, Sid.”

He doesn’t expect a reply that night because of the time difference, so he leaves his phone in the kitchen, settles in front of the TV, and puts on a hockey game.

Hockey is always a nice distraction from everything. He’s been in love with the sport ever since he was a little kid. Never had the money to actually play it for any long stretch of time, other than with friends on frozen ponds, but it’s still his favourite.

So yeah. Hockey is always a nice distraction. It just can’t distract him tonight from the thought of a beautiful man with a kind face and a soothing voice, doing athletic things in extremely short running shorts that leave nothing at all to the imagination.

***

There is a message the next morning. Sid reads it sitting up against the headboard, before he has even made it out of bed.

“Hello Sid! So happy you like video! Sad we live far, maybe sometimes we can make video together if closer. But I’m sure yours will be very good. Maybe I’m make video in English one day for you. Need much practice first. If this too much, sorry, but this messages not best way for talking. So I’m give you email. Ignore if you don’t want, I will not be angry. )))) Greetings from Evgeni.”

And then there’s an email address at the bottom of the message and Sid puts his phone down on his pillow and hides his face behind his hands, grinning, takes a breath. Are they becoming friends? Because that’s what it feels like. He’s not sure it’s such a great idea, but...

But it would be rude to turn down an offer of friendship like this, wouldn’t it?

The weird sort of melancholy from yesterday has left him, too, and with it the uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment at noticing the simple fact that a person he’s talking to is quite objectively attractive.

He feels like himself again.

So Sid does the only thing he can do, picks his phone up, copies Evgeni’s email address, and opens his email app.

It’s only polite. That’s the only reason he’s doing this. Anything else would be crazy. They’re pretty much living on opposite sides of the planet. So he’s just being nice to someone who was nice to him first and who is nice to talk to. Making a new friend in the process wouldn’t be the worst thing either.

And learning more about Evgeni’s thoughts on mixing yoga with regular workouts definitely can’t hurt. It’s a sport. All sports are good. He can always get into a new sport. Evgeni knows more about this particular one than he does, obviously, even if he seems to use it sparingly judging from the videos Sid has definitely not marathoned in bed before falling asleep last night.

“Hi Evgeni,” he starts his email. “This is Sid. I agree that emailing is much easier than talking through those messages. I’ve been thinking a lot about learning more about yoga, now that I’ve watched your video. Since you say you’ve based some of your stretches on it. I have a good friend who is a yoga teacher. He’s been trying to get me interested for years. If I tell him that I saw your videos on the internet and now suddenly want to learn, he’s going to be so mad. That’s going to be a lot of fun. Do you do any actual yoga off the internet? Or is that just what inspires you? Thanks again for giving me your email address. Sid.”

He hits send and feels pretty good about everything as he rolls out of bed to start his day.

Part 2

[mintchocolateleaves]

Flare Up (2/5)

Summary: All-Might is not pleased about the teenager that keeps forcing his way past the press and into every villain attack site. Izuku doesn’t care. First-aider!Izuku

A/N: I’m really enjoying writing this. Also - please don’t take all of the medical facts to be 100% accurate, while I’ve been accepted into med-school, I’ve not actually started yet.

[Part One]

He does not go to school that day.

Izuku is pretty sure it’d be impossible to explain the blood.

He waits until the paramedics have tended to the last person, one of which returns a blood-soaked tie to him, following its removal, and then, readies himself to push past the crowd around them.

“Hey kid,” the hero Snatch says, catching his shoulder as he’s about to leave. The battle is over, the villain’s in custody, but the hero does not look pleased. Good, because Izuku hardly feels happy about seeing so many injured people either. “You did a good thing here today, helping all those people.”

Izuku offers him a smile.

The praise, while refreshing, feels like it’s lacking something. Maybe because it’s not All-Might offering the words, maybe because these people should never have been in a situation where they needed help in the first place.

“It was nothing,” Izuku says.

“Maybe it’s not sunk in yet,” the pro-hero says, “but there are people who will live because of what you did today. Don’t play that down.”

Izuku nods his head. “I won’t.”

“Good,” Snatch looks almost pleased at his response, “now, the press are going to attack one way or another for a story, do you want me to shield you from most of the onslaught?”

“What do the media want with me?”

The pro-hero lets out a laugh. A mixture of shock and amusement, with a side of disbelief. He says, “a middle schooler pushes his way past police officers, is the first one to administer any first aid, saves countless of lives, and you wonder why, the media would want to get a story out of him?”

When he says it like that, Izuku can’t help but feel nervous.

“I don’t think I want to speak to the press at all,” Izuku says, “can’t I just, go home?”

“I’ll get a hero to take you home,” Snatch says, “no interview necessary.”

“Thanks,” Izuku mumbles, as the hero pushes him away from the crowd. Within a few seconds, Izuku’s been pushed into a car, asked for his address, and driven home.

His mother, as he’d expected, is terrified.

Izuku steps through the door, and is bombarded with a hug tighter than usual hugs. He doesn’t know how to respond, not at first, until his mother pulls back and wipes at her own tears.

“They were showing videos of the attack on the news,” Inko says, “and then I saw you, on camera, and there was blood all over your shirt, I thought you were dying.”

His mother looks him up and down, offers him a smile now.

“And then they said how there was a courageous boy offering first aid to everyone that he passed, and I thought, that’s my Izuku.” Inko smiles, “I’m so proud of you, even if you did give me a heart attack.”

Izuku offers her a smile back.

“I’m sorry about the heart attack,” Izuku says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Just don’t give me another,” she shakes her head, “look at your uniform, it’s going to stain. Come on, get changed out of them and I’ll get them washed for school tomorrow.”

Izuku nods.

He decides that maybe he should bring a spare uniform with him in the future, on the off chance that something like this were to happen again.

Water safety is a slower course than first aid, mainly because it involves teaching the class to swim confidently before they can move on to saving people. Perhaps she notices that Izuku is growing impatient, because Kurusu pulls him aside after they finish one of their sessions, and suggests he read up on the mammalian diving reflex.

“You never know whether you’ll need to know something like that,” the instructor says, “and it’s always fascinating to know what our bodies can do.”

Izuku studies it.

Kurusu hasn’t lied, the human body is fascinating.

He spends a lot longer reading health articles online, turns to his mother every time something interesting shows up with a smile. Inko’s smiles grow more enthusiastic as the days pass.

“Oh Izuku,” she calls to him one night, when she’s in the middle of cooking dinner, grabbing his attention from a rather interesting article on developments of vaccines, “come here wouldn’t you?”

Izuku scrolls down on the article to see how much is left, realises it’s too long to finish without coming off as rude and pushes back from his chair. The kitchen is only steps away, and he peeks his head around the door frame.

“Yes?”

“Oh, come in properly Izuku.” His mother chides, shaking her head. Her lips are lifted upwards, the ghost of a smile haunting her face, even if she’s trying to be stern. She’s happier these days, Izuku can see it. She beckons to him, “come on!”

Izuku pushes forward, hovers by the table.

“I’ve got something for you.” Inko says, opening one of the cupboards to pull out a small parcel. It’s wrapped in brown paper, nothing fancy, but the ends are cellotaped down, making it seemingly impossible to open.

Somehow Izuku knows he’ll find a way.

“I know it’s not much,” his mother says as she passes it to him, a shy expression on her face, “but I thought you might like it anyway.”

Izuku scrapes his fingernails against tape, unwraps the present. Inside there are two books, both thin. The top book is a first aid book – the blurb promises details on how to treat various quirk types, and information on how to treat both heroes and villains that might not want assistance.

The bottom book is labelled, ‘so you want to go to medical school?’

Izuku looks up and there’s tears in his mother’s eyes.

“It’s just an idea,” Inko starts, “but I thought it was an option you might want to look in to. You just seem so passionate about this, and… Izuku, have I mentioned recently how proud I am of you?”

Izuku can’t help but smile.

A doctor – yeah, that’s a job to aspire for. He enjoys first aid, and helping those people had been amazing. Even if he does want to become a hero – and he will, in one way or another – he thinks being a doctor is also a nice idea.

“I’ve got a while until then,” Izuku says, around a smile, “but I think this book will be useful.”

His mother beams.

His next disaster is not nearly as busy as the first had been.

Most disaster’s involving All-Might have less casualties. The fighting is normally finished within minutes, and the number one hero doesn’t rack up any damages to the local building.

(Not usually at least.)

Izuku is walking home from school, a half day, when he notices a shrill call for help. Instinct drives his hand into his pocket for the red cross badge, as he races towards the voice.

It’s still difficult to push past the police, especially with the media present wanting to see All-Might, but Izuku manages to get past quickly enough. There are three victims in total. Two are civilians, the third a villain which All-Might has knocked down.

The civilians are making noise. One’s bleeding out, a gash in their arm. It’s not a heavy flow, so Izuku passes and leaves them for in a moment. The other has what looks like a broken wrist. Painful, but not worth seeing to first.

Prioritising always leaves a guilty ache in his stomach. If Izuku could help all three simultaneously, then he would.

Instead, he goes to the villain. He’s unconscious, having been thrown backwards by one of All-Might’s punches. Except… there’s red seeping through his shirt.

If the rumours spreading through the crowds were correct, then this villain had been using knives alongside a speed quirk to attack civilians. He must have landed on one of the knives when he’s fallen…

Only… that’d include a back wound, and this is very clearly a stab through the stomach. The realisation shoots through him almost immediately, as he’s leaning into his backpack for his sports uniform, using it as a cloth and applying pressure to the wound.

Suicide.

Some villains can’t stand the thought of prison. And yet, Izuku can’t stand the thought of even one person dying on his watch.

He presses just hard enough to stem the bleeding. It’ll be difficult to keep the villain alive – it’s not like they’re in the movies, where there’s a high likelihood of people surviving internal bleeding – not when he knows the paramedics will see to the care of civilians first.

Which… is something Izuku hates about this quirk ridden world. That villains are seen as almost lesser in terms of medical care than everyone else… Surely the most wounded should be seen to first…?

Izuku sighs.

And meets the eyes of a villain staring up at him.

“I know you’ve broken some rules,” Izuku mutters to the man, “but don’t break the most important one: Don’t die on me. Okay?”

The villain blinks back at him. Offers what might be a ghost of a smile, and shakes his head.

It’s at this moment, that Izuku knows the man will not survive.

He doesn’t have to wait until the paramedics arrive, expressions almost hopeless at the ghostly pallor of the villain’s face. Nor at the glassy sheen to his eyes seconds after they lift him up onto a stretcher.

There is no saving a person who does not wish to be saved. Not this time.

Izuku has blood on his shirt, and hands when he finally stands up. He glances at the ambulances, then towards All-Might giving a report to the police. And he grits his teeth.

He almost doesn’t register the fact that he’s moving forwards until he’s a few steps away from the number one hero. He hovers waiting for the conversation to end. It fades, almost unnaturally as both the hero and police officer take notice of him.

And by him, Izuku’s pretty sure they notice the blood.

“Are you alright, young man?” All-Might’s voice seems to boom, intense in it’s volume. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, much more quietly, “you’re the boy that asked me about being a hero.”

Izuku isn’t sure whether he should be glad that he’s memorable. That probably just shows how little the number of people All-Might’s told cannot be heroes is.

He doesn’t respond to the question. Instead, he steels himself and looks his most favoured hero in the eye, voice low as he says, “you should have made sure that he was fully unarmed.”

The number one hero does not respond. Izuku does not give him the time.

“The villain, I mean,” Izuku says. He lifts his hands up, “this is his blood, by the way. Because he thought killing himself was the best option following this fight. You should have made sure he had no weapons.”

And now that he’s thinking about it – no other first-aiders had come to see if he needed help with the first aid. It’s almost as if no one had cared what ended up to the villain, as long as he’d been beaten by a hero.

All-Might opens his mouth, then closes it. While he’ll willingly smile towards all the cameras and for the sake of others, now, his expression is serious, contemplative almost. He says, “sometimes even us heroes make mistakes. I was certain I’d unarmed the man.”

Izuku looks down at his hands, stained in red. He says, “yeah, well… you didn’t.”

The next scene is almost… horrific compared to the first two.

All-Might is there, alongside multiple others, struggling to fight against a league of villains. Izuku hears about it on the radio, through his headphones, and glances towards the street sign.

The disaster isn’t far away at all.

So, he sprints. Izuku makes his way towards the scene and practically dives past the cordoned off sections of the crime scene, making his way towards the injured. There are heroes laying bloodied, alongside villains. Civilians caught in the crossfire between the two, many having been hit by the debris.

At a glance, there are over thirty injured. And with the sound of glass shattering and debris continuing to fall, Izuku’s certain there will be more.

“You can’t go past this point,” a police officer yells, “it’s too dangerous.”

His words are easily ignored.

There’s are multiple civilian’s in shock. They can’t all stay near the building, not with the area as volatile and with so much debris going around. It’s only asking for more risk, so Izuku talks to those that are conscious and able to walk, pointing towards the police tape.

Most to go that way are those with minor injuries, bleeds on the upper half of the body that he can get people to apply pressure to while they walk for more professional help.

Then, he heads towards more of the injured. One hero has a rather serious head wound, words slurred with a concussion. Izuku knows trying to get the woman to walk by herself will lead to further injuries from clumsiness, so he throws one of her arms over his shoulder and half carries her away from the danger.

“your jus’ a kid,” the woman slurs, and Izuku, tired of hearing the same words repeated over and over, simply reaches up to wipe the blood away from her forehead.

Next, he stops by a villain; The injury is a broken leg. An open break, with the bone protruding from the skin. It’s almost ghastly, how it looks, and Izuku realises they won’t be able to walk properly without damaging his ears from the screams.

He glances around, finds a long pole, and picks it up. After that, he grabs what looks like a small block of wood.

“You’re going to have to walk with me,” Izuku says, staring the man down. “Bite down on this, because it’s going to be painful.”

The villain takes the wood without a second thought. Instead of making him lash out, the pain has made him more complacent. He puts it in his mouth, as Izuku lifts him up.

“Use this as a crutch,” Izuku says, passing him the pole, “I can’t cover the break, since I don’t have any dressings, but once you’re over there, paramedics should see to you then, okay?”

It feels almost wrong to move the man. Kurusu had drilled it in to him not to move people, and while he knows it’s more dangerous to leave the villain there, he feels almost guilty asking the man to move.

“You… why’re you helping me?”

Izuku says, “why do I need a reason to save someone?”

There’s a civilian with what looks like a puncture wound through the chest next. They’re coughing blood, something that spooks Izuku into freezing for a few seconds, until he sees a long metal piece of debris and a blanket inside one of the buildings.

One of the buildings which looks like it could fall apart at any moment.

“…shit,” Izuku mutters, and climbs towards the building, hands grabbing out for the blanket. It snags, rips in half, but it’s still salvageable. Is still big enough.

He folds part of it over the debris and moves the civilian onto the blanket, uses the debris to pull the blanket forwards. He can’t move quickly, not without adding more risk, so he pulls slowly, until he’s moved near enough to the paramedics to get their attention.

Izuku shouts, “over here, come help,” waves his hand to grab their attention. Then, once they’re racing towards the victim, he races back towards the onslaught of casualties.

“This isn’t good,” Izuku finds himself muttering, as he’s dragging more people from the wreck, ensuring they make their way to the paramedics, ripping at people’s shirts to make temporary bandages.

He’s racing towards another victim – he’s not sure if this one is a villain or a hero, all he knows it that they’re injured – when something black comes into his sight. It’s a black fog, something that Izuku doesn’t quite register as a person until it speaks.

“You,” it says, “you’re healing people, yes?”

Izuku doesn’t register him as a villain until he’s answered yes, trying to rush forwards even further.

“well, it’d be a lot more favourable if you stopped.”

There is a vortex of black, almost as if the mist is grabbing at his body. One moment, Izuku is struggling, and then, he’s pulled down through some sort of black hole which opens up thirty feet above the ground.

He’s falling, and for a moment, all Izuku can wonder is whether helping all those people will be enough.

Then, there’s an arm around his waist, and he’s moving sideways, caught in the grasp of one of the heroes. He’s deposited on the ground seconds later, in one piece, and Izuku can’t help but feel a wave of relief rush through him.

His legs feel too wobbly to properly stand, and they collapse beneath him as soon at the hero lets him go.

“You shouldn’t be around here,” All-Might says from beside him, “villains will attack you, and we might not be able to save you next time.”

Izuku pushes himself up, glances towards the man. He says, “people need urgent medical care. They need first aid, and no one else seems willing to offer it.”

Because they hadn’t been.

Izuku’s watched enough villain attacks online and in person to know that when things get serious like this, with such danger around them, only the bravest will offer help. And when he’d shown up – there had been no first aiders rushing in to help others.

“You’re going to get yourself injured,” All-Might says, and the ‘or killed’ goes unspoken but known. The hero isn’t smiling anymore, stern worry spreading across his face. Maybe he wouldn’t be so worried if he knew Izuku could protect himself, that he wasn’t quirkless, but Izuku knows he remembers the conversation.

“Well it’s a good thing I know first aid, right?” Izuku mutters. He moves to step forwards, only slightly uneasy on his feet.

“A young man shouldn’t have to worry about this,” All-Might says, “Midoriya, you should head home.”

Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that All-Might knows his name. It’d made it’s way into the media against his will the first time he’d been present at a disaster. And he’d probably been curious over who’d scolded him over the death of a villain.

And yet, Izuku is still shocked nonetheless.

“No. I’m staying.”

[Chapter Three]

[thestylesproject]

#51 Milkshake and Concert Tickets (Harry Styles)

Summary: The one where Y/N makes killer milkshakes, and Harry is a little sad.

Snippet: “You know, I make an awesome Belgium chocolate milkshake which is amazing for heart breaks,” I looked up to meet the eyes of the cafe girl wiping glasses. 24/7 this cafe remained open, this girl looked around my age, was it even safe for her?

“Who said I had a heartbreak?” I asked, keeping my voice a little different. I wasn’t in shape to be Harry Styles just this moment.

“It’s killer for midnight blues even,” She said, stocking the glasses back on the shelves.

“It’s extra calories.”

“You’ll burn em,” She laughed. Did she know who I was? I was glad she wasn’t focusing it on that, at least.

“I’d love one.” I saw her work around the shop. Putting one scoop of ice cream, then another, milk, then sugar - I’d need an extra session at the gym tomorrow.

“There you go,” she placed the heavenly looking glass in front of me. God, it’s amazing.

“It’s good,” I nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She took a seat at the counter and opened her book. Something something…empire.

“What is that book about?” I asked.

“Oh, Britain and its colonies.” She said, taking a sip of the coffee in her glass.

“Of how great it was?” I laughed.

“How it became great by ruining everything else,” I shut up.

----

“Harry, I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what happened to me. It just..happened. And, I’m so so ashamed of myself.” This is how I was still awake at 4 AM. I’m confused if it was an involuntary decision of accepting to meet her in a coffee shop after midnight or there was something left between us.

“Please say something, Harry!” I tried to get myself incognito. I figured the black hoodie and the track pants hid me and my emotion burning inside pretty well in the mirror. “I know you’re mad at me. I know you hate me right now. But,” I wanted to hit her. I wanted to take her to the top floor and push her from there. She did the same to my heart. “It wasn’t technically even cheating, Harry,”

“How many types of cheating are there? You had your tongue pretty much down his throat, his hands on your bare ass, both naked. That pretty much is cheating.” I tried controlling my tears. Crying wasn’t good, crying made you look weak. It didn’t matter if you thought that maybe crying was relieving, refreshing, the world saw it as weak. She saw it as weak.

“We weren’t even together, Harry!” Fuck. Of course. Because I didn’t ask if she’d be mine officially. All the dates, messages, late nights, kisses, fuck.

“Why are we having this discussion then?” I asked. Before she could say anything else, “Just go.” She is leaving. Last chance. Should I? Would I want to stop her? …No.

This is the fourth one, Harry. The last one had a problem with the term girlfriend, the one before that with fame, the one before that found me too available. Shit, shouldn’t bang my head on the table. It hurts now.

“You know, I make an awesome Belgium chocolate milkshake which is amazing for heart breaks,” I looked up to meet the eyes of the cafe girl wiping glasses. 24/7 this cafe remained open, this girl looked around my age, was it even safe for her?

“Who said I had a heartbreak?” I asked, keeping my voice a little different. I wasn’t in shape to be Harry Styles just this moment.

“It’s killer for midnight blues even,” She said, stocking the glasses back on the shelves.

“It’s extra calories.”

“You’ll burn 'em,” She laughed. Did she know who I was? I was glad she wasn’t focusing it on that, at least.

“I’d love one.” I saw her work around the shop. Putting one scoop of ice cream, then another, milk, then sugar - I’d need an extra session at the gym tomorrow.

“There you go,” she placed the heavenly looking glass in front of me. God, it’s amazing.

“It’s good,” I nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She took a seat at the counter and opened her book. Something something…empire.

“What is that book about?” I asked.

“Oh, Britain and its colonies.” She said, taking a sip of the coffee in her glass.

“Of how great it was?” I laughed.

“How it became great by ruining everything else,” I shut up.

With half my drink down, “Can I ask you something?” She looked around wondering if there was anyone else she was talking to.

“Sure,” She closed her book.

“Why are you working so late at night? It’s not exactly very safe.”

“Before you get any ideas, I will warn you that I’m a black belt, and I can slap real hard.” She said with a straight face and then giggled. I took a deep breath, smiling a bit. Could she see, under my hoodie? “Well, I was free this month because my UNI gives time off for writing my dissertation. So, I took the night shift and changed my sleeping schedule.”

“A lot of trouble for a night shift?” I questioned.

“It pays more, and I needed the money,” She smiled.

“Paying for the UNI?” I asked. I was seriously blessed.

“Umm no,” She shook her head. “Parents got that covered. It’s for my own interests.”

I smiled, taking my hoodie off, watching if her smile changed. It didn’t, “Tell me more,” She laughed.

“Well, you see there is a concert this month, and this girl at school, she can’t go, and she is selling her ticket. I want to buy it. But, I just feel too guilty asking my parents to pay £150 for a concert ticket so, I plan to use my daily pocket money and then, cover up my daily expenses from this job. I will actually come out with more money in the end so, it isn’t a bad deal.” She said, the last thinking more to herself.

“The concert is that important?”

“It’s my dream! I’ve waited seven years to see him perform live. In person live, cause Media just doesn’t do it. It’ll be my first big star concert as well. Plus, he is a brilliant performer so, this late night is worth it.” She looked at me with big eyes of excitement, “Do you want me to make you another one?”

I looked at the glass. A double extra lesson at the gym it is, “Yes, please. It is magic.”

“I told you.” She got working.

“So, when are you writing your dissertation?” I asked.

“I’m trying to in the afternoon and the evening. Unfortunately, London made me a morning person, but it’s all about habit. I have all my material set now, so I just have to get typing.” She kept talking while making the milkshake. It was 5 AM.

“Hello, could I get to Cappuccino’s to go, please.” A lady came in, and I put my hoodie back on.

“Of course, late night flight?” She asked.

“A little too late. My husband’s fanatic as well. Three hours before the flight is mania!” The woman laughed.

“Oh no,” The girl shook her head so, easily conversing with strangers. “I have an uncle who took us five hours before, and the flight got delayed. Your husband is an angel!”

“Five hours! What did you do?” She asked.

“Oh, we ate and talked. Do look for the sleeping benches. They’re located closer to the boarding area. We discovered ‘em too late. There you go, two Cappuccinos!” The lady gave her the money, and some extra tip in the jar.

“I will look for the sleeping chairs first!” the woman laughed.

“Have a safe flight!” The girl waved, so cheerful at 5 AM. “Your milkshake is almost ready! What were we talking about?”

“It’s your first concert?” I asked, shocked a bit.

“Oh yeah! You see, not technically cause, I have gone for the local bands before, but this one is the huge one. I always found the ticket money too obscene. Back home and, here as well. I just can’t give this one up.”

“It’s a dream,” I remembered as she placed the second glass in front of me.

“It is!” She went back to washing everything and keeping it in place while I devoured my shake. “It is like one of those things that you know is too expensive, but you just can’t let it go. Not that I couldn’t afford it,” She was talking a bit to herself too, “but, my parents are paying an obscene amount for College, and it is my post graduation, and then living in London isn’t cheap. And, it’s my obsession. I can’t waste their money on it. If it was my money, it was money well spent, but it isn’t. I’m hoping it’s worth it, at least. He is said to be an angel on stage.”

“Who is this person you’re talking about? Ed Sheeran, umm who else is performing -”

“What time is it?” she looked at the clock. “5:30, well my shift gets over at 6 so, if you want another shake, tell me now!”

“What do you put in this shake? It’s so calming.” I leaned my head back. My heartache seemed to just escape in this ecstasy.

“It works for me, as well! It’s the chocolate, I feel!” She laughed.

“Oh wait, let me pay up since, you’re finalising accounts,“I said, taking out my wallet and giving her a card. She didn’t say anything after she saw my name even. I hardly had such interactions these days.

“There you go,” She gave the card back.

“You know working at night isn’t so bad either. You get to know so many stories. Just yesterday, I had this old woman who came in with a picture of her husband. She ordered for two butterscotch ice creams and kept one for herself, and one in front of the picture. She told me that this was the only memory she had of him that she could remember. Late night butterscotch ice cream to make the memory a little clearer. Like wiping a foggy glass with every bite. I write stories, it’s what I want to do in future as well. You find something new every night.” She smiled, with a dreamy look on her face.

“I really hope that concert is the best night of your life,” I said. Finding a sudden calm to my heart as well.

“I hope too. He never disappoints. I hope it is as magical as that milkshake,” She said with a look of positive belief.

“I’m not late! I know I’m not late!” The door banged open, and we both turned to see an older woman coming in.

“You’re not! You still have five minutes!” The girl laughed.

“Oh thank god! And please sleep when you get home! And, quit the job at the studio! Or quit this one! I’m worried about you! When do you sleep, when do you study! It’s LSE, you can’t give them shit. And when do you eat!” The woman kept talking to herself as she went inside.

“You work two jobs?” I looked at her with wide eyes.

“Just this month, it’s an expensive ticket!” She shrugged smiling.

“You study at LSE?” I asked.

“Yep.” The woman came back, “I’ve set everything to go, so there is not much to do. The truck will arrive in a while so, you’ll have to restock.” She picked up her jacket and her bag. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?” She asked, again and I just shook my head. “Well, it was lovely meeting you!” She nodded and walked off.

“Hey!"I called out as she pulled the Cafe door. "You didn’t answer my question.” She frowned, tilting her head, “Who is the artist?”

“Oh, I just served two magical milkshakes to him. Lovely meeting you, Mr Styles!” She smiled and closed the door, behind her. I took a seat, just shocked.

—

“Y/N” Maria called me as I entered the shop for my night shift. I hope I didn’t screw anything up since my last work boss was cross with me today. “That guy you like, Harry Styles. He dropped this letter for you. Asked your name and everything. Two girls sitting here went absolutely crazy and then, I realised.

Shocked and a little ecstatic, I took the envelope from her hand. It was in his official paper and his handwriting!

Dear Y/N,

Attached behind are two concert tickets, front row to my show here in London. I hope you have more magical nights in this city, just like that milkshake. I’ll take care of this one.

Thank you for ‘em, Harry

— Please tell me what you think about this?

Comments?

Masterlist

Copyright ©theStylesproject 2017: ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS WORK CONTAINS MATERIAL PROTECTED UNDER INTERNATIONAL AND FEDERAL COPYRIGHT LAWS AND TREATIES. NO PART OF THIS WORK MAYBE REPRODUCED OR TRANSMITTED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY MEANS WITHOUT EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM theStylesproject.

[artificialqueens]

TROIKA (Trixie/Alaska feat. Katya) 1/9 - Spoky

A/N: And so it begins… @veronicasanders & @fryshook, Ta, mates.

Summary: You can’t choose who you fall in love with and sometimes it’s inconvenient; it’s challenging, cumbersome, difficult and pushes you in directions you previously thought impossible. This is a story about negotiating love when everything you thought you knew about family, relationships and sex proves to be insufficient.

TROIKA

May, 2015

Boystown was supporting its regular Saturday night buzz. Brian had seen two bachelorette parties before even reaching Halsted street and a boy in a purple tank-top had tricked him into accepting a flyer for a new massage parlour in Chinatown. The address was on the same street as Kimski, the odd Korean-Polish fusion restaurant Kim liked to visit hungover. Brian folded the leaflet and stuffed it into his rear pocket as he turned right from Newport avenue and continued his way to Roscoe’s.

It was surprisingly warm for early May and he’d been wandering around in the streets of Chicago, making sure to arrive fashionably late to avoid the line. He crossed Roscoe street with couple of quick leaps and lifted his hand as a thank you to the cab driver that had slowed down to wait for him. Muffled music was echoing from the bar as he reached the familiar red telephone booth next to Roscoe’s Tavern and took notice of the small but surprisingly diverse group of men who had gathered to smoke next to it.

“Hey, dude,” one of them approached Brian as he passed. “You don’t happen to have a lighter?”

“Sorry,” Brian said and shook his head apologetically. “Don’t smoke.”

“Worth a shot, thanks anyway,” the man said, shrugged and turned back to his friends as Brian proceeded to the entrance.

“Ticket and ID?” the bouncer asked in deep bass and Brian paused to find the VIP wristband Kim had given him earlier. “Isn’t that Trixie?” He could hear one of the other guys drawl as he searched through his wallet. Where had he put the damn thing?

“Who’s Trixie?” a deeper voice asked and Brian chuckled as he pulled the silver paper wristband out of his wallet, flashed it to the bouncer with a half grin and pulled his sleeve up to put it on.

“You know, the Barbie from Drag Race, with the weird makeup. She was eliminated yesterday, again.”

“Look, babe,” a new voice joined the conversation. “I promised to come to see this show with you, alright? But that doesn’t mean that I actually care.”

Fair, Brian thought, and refreshing. Maybe he could date the guy? He was tempted to turn around and take a better look.

“But she’s famous!”

“You the Barbie?” the bouncer chortled at Brian as he extended his neck to look at the crowd standing couple of feet away. Clearly amused, he brushed over his thick moustache while eyeing the men behind Brian.

“I’m afraid so,” Brian admitted quietly and lifted his wrist up to show that he was appropriately tagged for the party. He tried his best to insinuate with his eyebrows that he didn’t want to deal with the Drag Race fan behind him.

The bouncer got the hint.

“Well in that case,” the man joked and opened the door, “Welcome to Roscoe’s!” he announced as he pushed Brian inside, closing the door behind him. The guy who had recognised Brian as Trixie had no time to react.

Brian shook his head at the encounter as he stepped into the crowded bar and studied the familiar space; the red walls and dark wood, the ugly lamps that reminded him of cracked in half egg shells hanging from the ceiling. Choices. The staff had yet to take his advice to reduce the random, and apparently steadily growing, selection of paper decorations that hung above the bar in faded rainbow colours. Stepping into Roscoe’s felt like coming home. A home you were about to sell at a severely reduced price after a messy divorce, but home; and it was crammed with interested buyers.

Brian glanced around. Roscoe’s was never this packed when the local Chicago queens performed, and Trixie would probably never attract a similar audience, but it was nice to dream. He wiggled his way to the bar between the warm bodies, muttering off-handed apologies and trying not to step on anyone’s toes along his way. He could feel people getting annoyed at him and someone shoved his shoulder, trying to hurry him along. As he finally reached the bar top and sighed in relief, he heard an amused snort at his left.

“Don’t get your hopes up. The twinks are not here to make money.”

Brian glanced up and was faced with a hefty, older man in a light blue shirt. His bushy grey eyebrows were drawn into an annoyed frown and he was tapping his debit card against the bar with steady slow clicks.

“Sorry?”

“The staff,” the man said and pointed at the other end where the young bartenders had gathered to watch the performance.

Brian rolled his eyes and stretched his neck to see the stage himself. Jinkx Monsoon stood tall in her heels and carrot orange curls as she dragged the final note of Creep before thanking the audience that roared in appreciation. Brian also caught a glimpse of a pink banner above the stage; the clearly hand painted cursive “JUSTICE FOR TRIXIE” causing the corners of his mouth to curl upwards in approval. Alaska and Jinkx clearly knew their audience.

Brian had seen pictures and videos of Alaska’s shows previously, but this was the first time he witnessed one of her Trixie-banners in person. It made him feel somehow appreciated, as if an older sister, who you knew would fucking murder you if you stepped into their room without permission, was standing up for you against The Plastics. It was nice to get some recognition and while Trixie Mattel would never be crowned America’s Next Drag Superstar, watching Alaska step onto the stage and take over the entire bar with her mere presence was enough to convince Brian that the crown, and the title, were not everything. There would be other opportunities, other platforms.

Someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder and he turned back to the elderly man on his left. The man was holding a drink and nodded his head towards the bar.

“Turns out, they do want to get tipped.”

With his Coors Light finally in hand Brian found a spot in the audience, readjusted his trucker cap and laughed at the joke Alaska Thunderfuck had cracked on the stage. She really was brilliant and sometimes Brian thought she should’ve won season five, but maybe America just hadn’t been ready for yet another freak show after Miss Needles? He took a sip of his beer and frowned at the two girls that were leaning to each other, crying dramatically.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here!”

“I know, we’re so blessed and this is so amazing. I love her so much and I hate that they’re not doing a meet‘n’greet but, like, at least we – hey! Are you listening?”

Brian closed his eyes briefly, reminded himself that the monetary value of a dollar bill from a whiny straight girl was equal to the dollar bills from everyone else, and concentrated back on Alaska. Her long blonde, bird’s nest of hair, her black paper dress and the magnificent voice that cracked on purpose, making the audience laugh. Brian had to wonder if the queen ever took singing seriously. As the number ended and as Alaska disappeared backstage Brian watched Trannika Rex take her place. It was good to be back in Boystown, surrounded by familiar faces. He turned to walk back to the bar, only to be interrupted in mid step by none other than Shea Couleé.

“Girl!” Shea drawled her greeting as she pulled Brian into a loose hug. “Good to see you!”

Brian couldn’t even remember when he’d last seen the queen. It had been way too long.

“Well, you know. If the other RuGirls take the risk of being seen with you, I figured I could too,” Brian said and blew an air kiss in the direction of Shea’s left cheek, carefully avoiding her makeup.

“Don’t start, Firkus,” Shea chuckled. “You know you can’t keep up.”

Brian knew it to be true and gladly moved to a safer ground. They exchanged some newsworthy updates on who was dating who, who was getting most gigs and what was going on in the Chicago drag scene in general. Brian had just avoided a question about Drag Race when Shea was called back to work.

“You should come backstage,” Shea invited. “The others would love to see you.”

Brian hesitated. He knew that at some point he would have to get more acquainted with RuGirls beyond his season and he really wanted to catch up with the Chicago girls, so as Shea pulled him along, Brian gave in. It would be better to get over his insecurities right now, before he would actually have to work with the famous queens, which was actually a real possibility. The thought of it still freaked him out slightly.

Brian stepped into the dressing room one step behind Shea and was immediately introduced to Jinkx and Alaska as Trixie Mattel. He stayed for the brief and required pleasantries, but quickly made his way to the safety of his old friends as the other two RuGirls kept joking back and forth in Golden Girls references.

“Are they always so intimating?” Brian asked Shea, causing the queen laugh loudly.

“Says the clown currently on Logo,” Trannika snorted. “You’ll be equally intimidating in no time.”

“Doubt it,” Brian said and shivered. He couldn’t imagine Trixie becoming as famous or successful as Jinkx or Alaska, hell, Trixie hadn’t made it to even top five! He would be ever so lucky if he could land some more gigs for a while and make enough connections to find a well-paying job behind the scenes of the industry. That way, he wouldn’t have to worry about money and could continue drag as a hobby. He glanced back to Alaska and Jinkx, and concluded that while they played the same sport, Alaska and Jinkx had established their place in the Major League, while Trixie still dabbled with the minors. Quite literally, if one looked at her fanbase.

Kim’s dress emergency interrupted Brian’s train of thought and he followed in slight amusement as Shea rushed to her bag for some safety pins before the fabric could tear further.

“Anyone got translucent nail polish?” Kim asked, holding the fraying chiffon with pursed lips.

“What?” Brian asked, turning at Kim with knitted brows. What did she need nail polish for?

“Yeah,” Alaska interjected from the other side of the room. “I think I do.”

Brian was surprised that Alaska had listened into the conversation and felt a little self-conscious that she might’ve heard his earlier comments as well. He watched her find a half used 15ml top coat nail varnish from her suitcase and hand it to Shea, who snatched the bottle with a cheerful “Thank you”.

“See,” Shea sneered, looking down her nose at Brian as she passed. “That’s what we call professionalism. Take notes, honey.”

Brian spread his hands in an exaggerated ‘What the fuck’-gesture and raised his brows at Shea, his mouth open. “What did I do?” he asked, bewildered.

“It’s more about what you didn’t do,” Kim explained as she offered the fabric to Shea to fix.

Brian snorted and rolled his eyes while taking a sip from his beer. He was often the butt of the joke for Shea and Kim and as Trannika was still staring at her phone, he wouldn’t get any help from there, either. He was also suddenly very aware of Alaska in the room, even if she had returned to her conversation with Jinkx. They were talking about their previous show together and how they should throw more shade at their season five sisters.

“- still bitter about that,” Alaska laughed brightly. “She really wanted to make it to the top.”

“Oh honey, she can top me,” Jinkx cackled, sending Alaska to a round of giggles. “Top me until I’ve had it-” she waited for Alaska to pick up the cue, “- officially!” they roared together.

Brian chuckled quietly at their antics and followed with curiosity as Jinkx sighed, getting a little somber.

“Seriously, though,” she said, looking at the floor. “I hope she gets over it. For my sake.”

Alaska nodded at the statement and placed her hand on Jinkx’s knee in comfort. “Another drink?”

The suggestion made Jinkx smile and she turned to the Chicago queens.

“Ladies!” she announced brightly, catching everyone’s attention. “Cocktails, anyone?”

“We’re up in a minute,” Kim declined, nodding to Trannika, who was still on her phone.

“Yeah, like five minutes ago,” Trannika corrected and Shea and Kim turned to her swiftly.

“What?!” they chorused in panic. Trannika gave them a tired look over her phone, cocking her eyebrows mockingly.

“Jesus fuck,” Shea laughed in relief. “You got me.”

Trannika rolled her eyes and dropped her mobile into the bag that was lying in her feet.

“We do need to go, though,” she added and started to walk towards the stage, pulling Kim with her.

“Cosmos or Margaritas?” Shea asked and got up from the floor while rolling the nail polish bottle shut. She walked to Jinks and handed the borrowed item back to Alaska with another “Thank you”.

“I’m feeling adventurous,” Jinkx smirked and got up, hooking her arm around Shea’s. “Let’s get something new!”

Shea grinned widely and took a step towards the exit. “I know just the thing,” she said cunningly and looked at Alaska. “And you, mam?”

Alaska chuckled and shook her head.

“Her loss,” Shea snorted and lead Jinkx out of the dressing room.

Brian stared after the pair and took yet another sip of his beer. He decided to believe that his half full bottle was the main reason why he hadn’t been included in the invitation, rather than Shea just being a shady bitch. It was probably both, and he sighed in frustration. He was extremely aware of the silence between himself and Alaska and browsed his collection of appropriate small talk topics. He got nothing, though, and the silence stretched; he couldn’t think. It was getting more awkward by the second. He blamed it on the alcohol and Alaska’s intimidating aura.

He cleared his throat and stood up. “Right, then,” he said, intending to come up with an excellent but probably obvious excuse to leave. I’m tired, work tomorrow, long day, you know the gist, or something along those lines, but before he had time to come up with anything remotely acceptable, Alaska asked him a question.

“When did you start doing Trixie?”

Brian blinked. Of course! That’s what you talked about with other drag queens, drag! Why hadn’t he thought of that?

“Umm,” he said frowning. When had he started doing drag? Why had he started doing drag? What was drag? Before he could sink further into his existential crisis, he took a seat at one of the stools nearby, hoping that the position would calm down his nerves.

“I was eighteen and needed to like, fill in for this guy in a play,” he said, trying to remember the details. “I guess it started from there.”

Alaska nodded and Brian blinked. Oh, right. It was his turn to ask something. That was how conversations worked.

“How about you?”

Alaska chuckled. She took a better position on the sofa and kicked off her heels, wiggling her toes in relief as she launched into a long explanation about her fascination with drag as a form of performative art, but also as a medium to explore gender and connect with people in the gay community. Brian started to slowly relax as he listened to her talk and soon realised that he was nodding along, agreeing with a lot of things Alaska was saying.

“-and you never make enough from just tips-”

“Tell me about it-”

“-right, exactly! And it was just fun, you know-”

It was interesting how quickly Alaska made Brian feel at ease and as they eventually branched out to different topics, Brian suddenly realised that he was having an actual conversation with the Queen Supreme; a conversation beyond the conventional drag-lingo and trade-talk laced with pop-culture references. The discussion was actually more along the lines of a drunken Uber ramble about emotions and the purpose of life, but neither of them were plastered, which made the situation ever so slightly more absurd.

“It’s not that I don’t want to get ‘married’,” Alaska explained, putting actual quotation marks around the word with her fingers. “I just don’t see why we need to call it marriage. I’m all for stable, loving, equal relationships and rights. I just think we need little more imagination over what is family, and what kind of relationships work within the community.”

“But if someone wants that? A monogamous, committed relationship with kids and a mortgage?”

“Well that’s their choice,” Alaska agreed, nodding, while removing her makeup with some wipes. “I just think that this obsession with marriage has left a lot of other important issues undiscussed and that it leaves out a lot of queers who don’t, like, fit into the system,” she continued and pulled a tight, black t-shirt over her head, serving average Joe gay club realness.

“So, you’re saying that they don’t deserve to be stoned to death for not leading STD-ridden pink fluffy flamboyantly homosexual unicorn lives?” Brian asked, raising his eyebrows in fake outrage as he threw a bottle cap in the air and caught it, as if ready to throw it at the next offensively hetero gay-guy that stepped into the room.

“No!” Alaska shrieked a laugh and leaned to the dresser for balance. The way Alaska laughed, the total surrender to the feeling as her knees bent, her mouth opened and her eyes formed two feline lines made Brian smile. It was was contagious, the way in which she laughed, gasping for breath, voice slightly higher and a lot more hoarse than what Brian would’ve expected. Just looking at her struggle through made Brian want to do it again, to say something funny to keep her entertained. The feeling was similar to the one he’d experienced with Katya, but while with Katya he felt more like an equal, that they were laughing together, making each other laugh, with Alaska it was definitely him that made her laugh.

Alaska got up and dropped her knee high boots on top of her suitcase while still trying to calm her breath. She stepped closer to Brian, slightly too close to Brian’s liking and as he was about to lean back she extended a long, slender arm towards him.

“Justin,” he introduced himself. “Nice to meet you.”

Brian took the offered hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “Brian.”

Justin’s skin felt cold against Brian’s and he was surprised to realise that Justin’s hands were actually bigger than his. Alaska looked so small and gangly on stage that Brian had managed to forget that underneath the makeup and hairspray there was actually a man with testosterone boosted bone-structure.

“I know,” Justin smiled and Brian realised the handshake was getting slightly longer than what was necessary.

The comment took Brian by surprise and he had blurted out a “You do?” before he had time to catch himself.

Justin chuckled, finally releasing Brian’s hand and leaving behind a tingly feeling that Brian promptly wiped against his thigh.

“I looked you up, was kinda hoping you’d make it to the top.”

“Aww,” Brian drawled, “I bet you say that to all of the girls.”

He took a sip of his beer and hoped his blush wasn’t showing despite that he could feel his neck and cheeks warm up. Justin grinned in response, shaking his head slightly before he suddenly extended his hand to Brian once more.

“Come on, Barbie doll, let’s go dance!”

Brian blinked. It had been almost two hours since the show had ended and without a meet and greet most of the overly fanatic fans had probably disappeared. Jinkx had left the venue without problems thirty minutes ago, but Brian wasn’t sure if it was the wisest decision to go dance in Roscoe’s tonight. The possibility of the evening turning into an unorganised, free meet and greet was a little too real.

“I dunno, man,” Brian hesitated. “Like, I’m in, but do you, like, do you think they’ll actually leave you to it?”

Justin pursed his lips and let his hand fall back to his side. Brian could see the man was disappointed and for whatever reason felt like he needed to fix the situation. Fortunately, he knew the perfect place if one wanted to shake off some race chasers.

“Ok, wait,” Brian said, swiping out his phone. “I’ve got an idea.”

Seeing the hopeful smile rising on Justin’s lips made Brian feel better. He found Shea’s number from the contact list and lifted the phone to his ear. Luck was on his side and the queen picked up after one short ring.

“Hey, yeah- Look- Look- Listen! Can we leave Justin’s- Alaska’s, stuff in the backroom if we grab a cab to Rogers Park?” Brian asked and lifted his hand up as a sign for Justin to wait as Shea made some enquiries.

“Awesome, thanks girl,” Brian ended the call with a wide grin. “I know a place.”

*  *

A cab ride from Boystown to Rogers Park on a Wednesday would’ve taken a quarter of an hour, so Brian wasn’t too upset when the taxi driver pulled next to Touché just twenty minutes later. Justin insisted paying and stepped to the street, clearly excited.

“A leather bar?” he exclaimed seeing the crowd at the entrance and stared at Brian his mouth open. “Giiirl, you don’t look like the type!”

Brian slammed the cab door closed and turned to Justin, raising his eyebrows as if offended. “And what type is that?”

“You know,” Justin grinned and gave him a quick once over with a shrug. “A little Green Acres.”

Brian flipped the tall queen the finger and sneered before turning towards the bar, only to realise that the line consisted of women, only women.

“Shit,” he swore and glanced at the poster at Touché’s window. Of course he’d picked the only lesbian night of the month to drag Justin out of Boystown. What now? The only viable option seemed like Dino’s but he’d never been in the damn place. “I’m sorry, man, I think it’s a ladies night.”

Justin glanced at the line and pursed his lips.

“They’re a little more lax at Jackhammer tonight.”

Brian turned to the woman smoking nearby and noticed her Touché staff t-shirt as she smiled at Brian comfortingly.

“Yeah?” he asked, renewed hope lighting his face.

“Yeah, because of us,” the woman snorted and nodded towards the poster. “Worth checking out at least” she finished, eyeing between them. Brian was sure she had concluded Jackhammer wasn’t really their scene, and she was right. It wasn’t.

“Yeah alright, thanks,” Brian nodded and pulled Justin with him as he started to walk down Clark Street.

“Jackhammer?” Justin asked, taking a couple of leaps to catch up with Brian.

“Another leather bar,” Brian explained, adjusting his red trucker cap. They would never get in dressed like this. “Come on, let’s try.”

Brian turned right at the first corner and walked to the surprisingly short line. As they reached the door the bouncer gave them one look before an assertive: “No.”

“Come on, man, we’ll go straight down.”

Brian didn’t know what had made him volunteer Justin for the experience of the Hole without any preceding consultation, but as he bouncer lifted his eyebrows in challenge Brian got more determined.

“Please?” he asked, tilting his head at the man. “We just came from Boystown and Touché is seized by horny lesbians.”

The bouncer rolled his eyes and opened the door reluctantly. “I don’t want to see you upstairs.”

“Roger that,” Brian nodded, grabbed Justin’s wrist and pulled the man inside.

Jackhammer catered to a totally different audience from Roscoe’s. Instead of superfluous Axe deodorant and stingy cheap hairspray, from the moment you stepped into the bar you could smell the mixture of testosterone-laden sweat, dried up alcohol and rubber.

Brian led Justin left from the main bar, towards the narrow metal stairs that lead down to the cellar, or like most affectionately referred to the place, the Hole. There was a man in a full rubber body suit and knee high boots guarding the entrance.

“You need to strip,” Brian said to Justin, who raised his eyebrows in question. “It’s a fetish thing. Leather, rubber, sports gear or underwear,” he explained and started to unbutton his shirt.  

“You’re joking,” Justin said through a laugh, eyeing Brian in amusement.

Brian just raised his eyebrows, gave Justin a tired look of a ‘Really girl?’ and opened his fly.

“I take my earlier statement back,” Justin smirked as he pulled his top off.

Brian decided not to point out that he rarely visited Jackhammer, the Hole even less. He’d just wanted to get Justin out of Roscoe’s and Touché had popped to his mind. He hadn’t had any initial intentions to take Justin anywhere near as adventurous as the Hole, and if that made him vanilla, or ‘a little Green Acres’, as Justin had put it, so be it.

Without respecting Justin’s commentary with a reply, Brian proceeded with his undressing. He tried not to stare too much as Justin stripped down to his purple Calvin Klein briefs and revealed the narrowest hips Brian had ever seen, decorated with an admirable bulge underneath. Brian was suddenly grateful that his own checkered boxer shorts hid successfully, not only his chubby butt but also his averaged sized genitalia.

They stuffed some money into their shoes, following the lead of the men lining up in front of them, and deposited their clothes before stepping into the sparsely decorated cellar.

The air felt heavy as the crowd moved with the music, the volume leaving some room for conversation. At their left there was a man strapped to a Saint Andrew’s cross and a strong bear was spanking him with a crop as he moaned for the crowd’s entertainment. At their right, the space expanded to another room and a dark hallway. Brian could smell the sex.

“Drink?” he asked Justin who was taking in their surroundings, his lips slightly ajar. Brian could see Justin’s breaths getting shallower and his eyes clouding with admiration of the amount of exposed, naked skin. Brian smirked at Justin’s reaction and concluded that he hadn’t made a completely wrong judgment call by bringing him here. He grabbed Justin’s wrist once more and pulled him to the bar, trying to avoid the sweatiest bodies, intentionally brushing against some of the attractive ones.

“Two Jack and Cokes,” he ordered without checking Justin’s preference and felt a hand on his shoulder. He started to turn but halted as he felt Justin’s lips on his cheek and pulled back after the accidental collision.

“Becks Blue, if they have,” Justin said, licking his lips and Brian could feel his warm breath against his cheek. He nodded, but as he turned back to the bartender the man had already disappeared.

Brian didn’t come to the Hole often because Josh, his promiscuous ex, did. Like Justin just moments ago, Josh had also referred to Brian as vanilla at their first encounter. Brian didn’t necessarily object to the observation but neither did he understand why one might accept a leather harness and a rubber suit but disapprove of a pink, tulle dress or a pair of size 13 stilettos in the wardrobe. Obviously, they had eventually broken up for more pressing reasons than preferred play outfits but ever since Brian had avoided Jackhammer. The bartender was back and placed two plastic cups in front of them.

“And a Becks Blue,” Brian completed the order. He could feel Justin’s hand slip away from his shoulder and turned to look.

Justin was leaning back, looking at his left with slightly squinted eyes. He licked his lips and raised his chin to reveal and bring attention to his neck and prominent collarbones. The sight made Brian’s cock twitch and it wasn’t even him that Justin was cruising. The fact that Brian was leaning against the dirty bar top to get them drinks as Justin was getting eyefucked by a stranger made Brian simultaneously annoyed and jealous. Annoyed at his own insecurities – he’d never picked up the art of cruising – and jealous of the fact that Justin had already set his eyes on someone. Brian downed half of one of the drinks in his reach to calm down his reactions; the arousal as well as the peeking jealousy. Then the bartender was back and placed a bottle of Becks onto the bar top. Brian blinked at the silver label that red “alcohol free” in bright red and chuckled at the absurdity that Alaska Thunderfuck was sober. He turned to Justin, placing his hand on the man’s waist.

“Here,” he said and handed him the bottle. “You don’t drink?”

Justin smiled in response. “Not excessively anymore, no,” he said and took a sip.

“Come on, Barbie, let’s dance.”

Dancing in the Hole is a little different to dancing at Roscoe’s. There is a real chance that the couple next to you are fondling each other’s dicks that might, or might not be hidden by their jockstraps. It is not unusual for someone to grab your ass in admiration or to reach out to feel your biceps at passing. If you make your way into the dark hidden corners, you can witness slow blowjobs and leather daddies getting rimmed. Alternatively, if watching is not your thing, you can partake to a discussion of the contemporary political climate or Game of Thrones while getting fucked to the rhythm of Air’s Sexy Boy.

The Hole was definitely not the most conventional of queer spaces and as such, it was a little out of Brian’s comfort zone. Surprisingly enough, Justin seemed completely at ease as he surrendered to the beat.

*  *

An hour or so later, Brian stepped out of the bathroom, drying his wet hands on his boxers, and made his way back to the bar for his third drink. He’d left Justin in the crowd three songs ago, but figured the man could handle himself for a little while longer. Having learned from his earlier mistake he avoided touching the bar top as he waited for the bartender and suddenly felt a large, warm hand on his waist.

“It’s hard to get your attention.”

The voice was definitely not Justin’s.

Brian turned to look and took in the short but beautifully built man. Large, dark tattoos covered his well-formed chest and shoulders and there was a clear appreciative glimmer in his gaze as he studied Brian.

“It is?” Brian asked and wanted to smack himself. He sounded like a lost cub on his first night out in the BearCity.

The man smirked and nodded as he stroked Brian’s side. Then he leaned closer, as if going to whisper something, but halted midway before backing away. “I’m sorry,” he said squinting his eyes. “Didn’t realise you were taken.”

Brian blinked, confused at the way in which the man took a step back, his warm hand disappearing from Brian’s waist, only to be replaced with a lot colder touch.

“No harm done,” Justin drawled and pressed his entire upper body against Brian’s side as he wrapped his right arm around Brian’s shoulders.

Brian felt like an outsider following the situation and couldn’t quite get to the bottom of it. Was Justin seriously cockblocking him right now? He threw an annoyed glance at him and opened his mouth but didn’t get a turn to speak up as Justin crashed their mouths together in a clumsy, forceful kiss.

Brian froze, staring at Justin cross-eyed. His heart was hammering in his chest and he didn’t know what to do with his hands, which left them hovering in mid air. Justin had closed his eyes and while Brian was pretty certain the man was not in a regular habit of hooking up with his colleagues, Alaska did have a history of RuGirl kai-kai. Brian had dismissed Justin as a potential hook up, despite their light flirting on the dance floor, which Brian had at the time dismissed as a show for the other men. Additionally, Brian hadn’t thought of himself as Justin’s type the slightest. Now, however, he felt the need to reconsider. Maybe Justin really was into his midwestern single-dad aesthetic? Brian was just about to open his lips, wrap his arms around Justin’s incredibly narrow hips and pull the man closer, when Justin stepped back.

“I’m sor-”

Brian didn’t let him finish but tilted his head and brought his lips gently back against Justin’s, pulling the man firmly against him, chest to chest. He could feel Justin tense and hold his breath as Brian traced his lower lip with his tongue. Brian’s heart was pounding, making him slightly dizzy and he thought he’d misjudged the situation completely as Justin dithered. Well, fuck. But then slowly, almost shyly, Justin parted his lips and leaned into the kiss. He smelled of cigarettes and tasted of stale beer, neither of which made it to Brian’s list of favorites things, but the way in which Justin’s slimmer frame pressed against him and the way in which his hold got stronger, rougher; and particularly the way in which he trapped Brian’s lower lip into gentle bites at times, those Brian might add to the list.

The kiss ended with Justin pulling his head up and pressing his forehead against Brian’s as they tried to calm their breaths.

Brian didn’t know what to say or where to go from there, his hands still wrapped around Justin’s waist; their bodies pressed together, Justin’s cold fingers in Brian’s neck. He could feel Justin’s arousal against his thigh and licked his lips, not quite certain if he himself was responsible for it, or if it was the Hole and the men in it, possibly even just the atmosphere. He had to say something, though, preferably before the silence between them got too awkward.

“What were you going to say?” he asked.

“Oh, um,” Justin hesitated and bit his lip, refusing to meet Brian’s eyes. “Nothing.”

Brian swallowed. Justin’s body language revealed that ‘nothing’ had definitely been something , but Brian had no way of knowing what and asking again was out of the question. So he decided to ignore the uneasy feeling the situation left him with and was about to turn to the bar to get his drink, determined to ignore, and eventually hopefully forget, the entire encounter when Justin surprised him yet again.

“Do you- Umm… Do you wanna get out of here?”

Despite his shock, or maybe because of it, Brian nodded.

*   *

The hotel Justin was staying at was nicer than what Brian had expected. The walls were white and the floors wooden, and while there was a lot to be desired from the receptionist that kept sneering at them as they had waited for the elevator, at least the flowers at her desk were real.

The silence between them had moved beyond awkwardness as neither of them had volunteered to break it since the second cab ride of the night, both choosing to enjoy the silent sexual charge; the brief moments their eyes met as they caught each other looking, wondering what the other was thinking, imagining, hoping for – wanting .

As the elevator finally reached the seventh floor, Brian glanced at Justin who gave him a look of pure lust over his shoulder before leading the way.

It took Justin two tries to get the key card to work, but when it finally did, the opened door seemed to release something raw, something previously restrained. He grabbed Brian’s collar and dragged him inside with a lot more force than what Brian had anticipated from a man his size and as their lips met in the darkness, Brian could taste Justin’s cigarettes.

Ignoring the foul flavor, Brian fumbled the wall for a light switch but failed as Justin pulled him further into the room and pushed him on the bed. Straddling his lap, Justin proceeded to open his shirt and groaned into his mouth through hungry, rushed kisses. There was determination and emergency in Justin’s movements and as he thrust a condom and a travel sized lubricant at Brian, Brian paused.

“Fuck.”

Brian didn’t realise he had sworn out loud before Justin stopped and looked down at him, perplexed.

“What?” he asked out of breath, straddling Brian’s lap. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong, per se, and Brian bit his lip. How the fuck hadn’t Justin picked on any of the cues? How in the name of Lucifer and the seven fugly dwarfs had Brian failed to convey his preference to the man? Surely, surely, he didn’t come across domineering enough to fool anyone? Or maybe he did? Jesus fucking Christ on crutches. Who even wanted anal sex drunk? Admittedly, he himself did, but after he’d yielded to the fact that his only possible hook up for the night was none other than Alaska Thunderfuck out of drag – not that he was complaining – he’d contented himself with the upcoming frottage and blowjobs; two bottoms could still have fun, no?

Brian swallowed and looked up at Justin. He looked confused and Brian wondered if he could pull it off. He could just simply keep his mouth shut and go with it, because he was really hard, and because he really wanted to come, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know how to top, and now he could see Justin picking up on his train of thought… Shit, he would have to act quick.

“Oh,” Justin noted, realisation dawning on his face. “You prefer to bottom.”

It wasn’t a question and to Brian’s surprise, Justin didn’t sound entirely crestfallen. He grinned apologetically, because what else was he supposed to do?

“Okay…” Justin drawled and scratched his neck. “Not my first pick, but not a deal breaker either.”

Brian’s brain did a similar movement to a Toyota Corolla that hit a semi-truck going 70 mph on a highway.

“Huh?” he asked, pulling together all the remains of his abused intellect.

Justin chuckled through his nose and grabbed back the condom, as well as the lube, and smirked.

“Not a problem, honey.”

Brian blinked at the attitude change and before his intoxicated brain could fully register what was happening, Justin had gotten off of him, pushed him up on the bed, kicked his legs apart and was leaning over him to kiss him hungrily. Brian had heard rumours of versatile bottoms but had never encountered or experienced one, therefore assigning them to the category of a “lovely but completely false gay culture myth”. Tonight, however, as Justin proceeded to fuck him through the mattress, Brian secretly appointed himself as the gay Jamie Hyneman.

___________

A/N2: Liked it?

[imsarabum]

Responses to {Part 21} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU Asks~

Please ‘Keep Reading’ to find my response to your ask ^^ As always, I have copied and pasted all asks into this post in regards to last night’s chapter to avoid clogging up people’s dashboards and to avoid spoilers for those who may still wish to read the chapter. Thank you ^^ 

(I have also included asks that I received in the hours before IWSY was posted ^^)

Anonymous said: So i found IWSY last week and marathoned through it in 2 days and omg its so good im dying for the next part!!! Thank you so much for blessing us all with your writing have a wonderful day/night!!!!!! ❤❤❤❤❤

Oh my gosh thank you for marathoning through it! I’m really happy that you found it and that you’re liking the story so far my dear ^^ I hope you have a wonderful day or night too! ❤

Anonymous said: TONIGHT'S THE MOMENT OF TRUTH!!!

WOOHOO! C:

@mysr3 said: Queen Serren will shed some light for us tonight and poor Jungkook' unbeating heart is ready  I can feel it! My heart is also not ready!!! Have A good day Love ❤️  PS I re-read Who are you again! And I find new things that I didn't notice before last time and feel different! You are such a good writer !!!

Hehe yes things were revealed last night with more to be explained c: And yay thank you for reading it again! I’m glad you could pick up on things that you maybe didn’t pick up on before, I personally love when that happens to me :3 ❤  Thank you so much my love :)

Anonymous said: It's 11:14pm in Sydney right now and I am so ready for IWSY! Unfortunately, it's a little known fact time difference is a bitch and I can't read it till the afternoon! *sighs* if only they didn't block tumble at school. -Tall anon

Aww that sucks that they block tumblr at your school! But I can understand why because they wan you to concentrate :( I hope you’ll enjoy it when you read it my love!

@lostheretics said: fEW HOURS TO IWSY AAAAAA *screaming internally* but cant read it immediately bc i have mid tests😔😔😭😭

That’s okay my love! tests and study come first ❤  I hope you enjoy it when you get a chance to read it!

@deangetoutofmyspleen said: iTS TUESDAYYYYYYYYY

YES IT IS!! ❤

Anonymous said: Yuss, vamp!Kook-tuesday!! Highlight of the week ❤

I’m so happy that it’s the highlight of your week ❤  ahhhh that really makes me smile so much!

@m1n-yoong1 said: OMG I JUST REALISED ITS TUESDAY AND IM REALLY HAPPY NOW. My day has been quite bad so I was sad all day until now 😁😁

I’m glad it can brighten up your day my love, I’m sorry that your day has been sad :( *hug* ❤

Anonymous said: I'M READY FOR WHATEVER PARANORMAL SHENANIGANS YOU HAVE PREPARED LETS DO THIS *insert boxer emoji here*

PARANORMAL SHENANIGANS YES ❤  hehe I hope you enjoyed it babe!

@kpoperinthehoody123 said: OMG SARAAAA!!!!!!!!!! I JUST READ THE WHO ARE YOU // IM JAEBUM SERIES ALL IN ONE GO AND IT IS SOOO FUCKING LEGIT THAT I FORGOT CEO JUNGKOOK WILL BE COMING OUT ANY MINUTE NOW!! HOW DO U WRITE THESE MASTER PIECES??? *cries in the corner* However, U have such an amazing and creative mind oh Sara😘😘😘 Can't wait to read 'I wont stop you' part 21 💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

Ahhhh thank you so much for reading it alongside IWSY! (I hope you enjoyed last nights update too!)  You flatter me way too much D: I just imagine something and then write it, it’s nothing special ❤  Thank you so much my love!

Anonymous said: I've updated your tumblr way too many times tonight.... I'm dying to know what's going to happen! 💕

asdfghj I hope you enjoyed the update beautiful!

Anonymous said: i spent a single day binging the entire IWSY series and i've never been happier because it's been hard to find some good vampire!jk and now i have and i'm living also i remember that i had read it when there was only one chapter and then i forgot about it but honestly im so happy to be back!! your writing is exceptional and as a fellow writer, i'm so happy to have found this and you ❤️❤️

jkdgkjsdg ugh thank you so much ❤  I’m really happy that you found it and returned to it and that you enjoy it ❤  thank you for finding me and telling me that you like my series dear, it really means a lot to me!

Anonymous said: I'VE NEVER BEEN SO EARLY FOR A FIC HOLY--

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!! ❤

Anonymous said: idk why but i??? Cried during chapter 21 its was sO GOOD BLESS

awh~ sad tears or happy tears? c: Thank you so much my love!

Anonymous said: I had a feeling that I would get the vampire explanation and not the "what the heck is she" explanation. On another note, in really happy with how the whole thing went, like I half expected for it to bee more awkward and for the second hand embarrassment to be worse, but you managed to write in in a way that wasn't over the top and still provided a realistic (as realistic as we can assume a scenario like this would play out) scene. So thank you for once again making the week long wait worth it.

Yes~ I personally feel it would be too unrealistic for them to tell absolutely EVERYTHING in one go~ (Y/N) has had a traumatic time and if they were to just unleash everything then she legit might run away terrified lolol. I’m happy that you perceived it as being realistic - especially when the genre is supernatural. I think, for some people, there will always be an element of cringe when it comes to talking about Vampires but I really wanted to make it as natural as possible. In this chapter, I really just wrote like - how I would react if someone were to tell me. I’d be scared but I’d require proof and I’d be curious if I was able to see substantial proof heh~ Thank you very much for honest and unbiased review of the chapter, it was refreshing to read and respond to - and I hope you have a lovely day ❤

Anonymous said: I HAVE TO WAIT ANOTHER WEEK FOR THIS MASTERPIECE TO REVEAL WHAT THE HECK Y/N IS?

YES MY LOVE YOU DO ❤  Hehe, thank you for reading it ❤

@moonlighthollow said: Jesus christ.... this was so worth the wait😂😍 I'm soooo inlove with this story omg thank you for writing so perfectly and amazing🙏

I’m glad you found it worth the wait ❤  Thank you so much for reading the update my love!

@lovehaniwhaimagines said: HOLY FLIPPIN SHIT. I binge-read all 20 chapters of I wont stop you just yesterday and waited until the new chapter and holy frickin cow, I LOVE IT. Please keep up the good work, I appreciate every single thing you write :) ~

I’ll keep writing for sure! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying the series love ^^ ❤

Anonymous said: You know you could actually write a book and it would sold to millions of people! You're creative stories and writing are fantastic. I love how you mix humor into your stories, especially in "I Won't Stop You". You are one of the best writers on tumblr no doubt about it. Love you~

I’m not sure about millions of people xD But maybe one day eh!? hehe~ And yes! I love to incorporate a little bit of humour, especially if one of the characters personalities is like that, it can be a great mood lifter or a change of pace throughout the story or chapter ^^ Ah, you flatter me so much ❤  thank you my love, and I love you too!

@parkheehi said: I'm so fucking happy that Y/N was not that mad at jungkook for his secret. :D do you know how many parts I won't stop you will have?? (BTW I DIED WHEN JUNGKOOK SAID 'I won't stop you' AFTER Y/N ASKED HIM IF SHE COULD  TOUCH HIS TEETH)  Don't overwork yourself and stay healthy!🤗

I have no idea how many chapters~ You guys will know when I do! ALSO THIS ISN’T THE FURST TIME JUNGKOOK HAS SAID ‘I WON’T STOP YOU’ - and actually, the reader has said it before too ;) I guess youll have to go back and read to find out where and when it was said! hehe ❤  thank you my love and I hope you’re having a great day!

@semisweetsuga said: I fukin knew you were gonna end it on a god damn cliffhanger but the update was SO GOoD I loVEd iT!

This should no longer be a surprise anymore~ I’ll gladly wear my crown for queen of cliffhangers ~ hehe, I love Kotooooo ❤

Anonymous said: I JUST ABSOLUTELY LOVE WHEN YOU HAVE "I WONT STOP YOU" SAID IN THE IWSY STORY!!!! IM SO EXCITED FOR NEXT WEEK BECAUSE IVE HONESTLY SO CONFUSED WHENEVER YOU MENTION THE AFFECT (Y/N) HAS ON PEOPLE. ❤️😍

This isn’t the first time that the title has been mentioned in the series! :3 Jungkook has said it once before and so has (Y/N)~ muhaha! I hope you’ll enjoy the storyline when you find out what (Y/N) is ❤  thank you so much for reading!

Anonymous said: HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME! I HAVE BEEN WAITING LIKE THE WHOLE FUDGING BOOK TO FIND OUT WHY SHE TINGLES, AND THEN YOU JUST SNATCH IT OUT OF MY GRASP AND SAY NOPE YOU'LL HAVE TO WAIT ANOTHER FUDGING WEEK TO KNOW THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW (I know I sound really sad) Ugh 😑 at least you know how to keep your readers along for the ride

Because my dear, I am evil and I enjoy inflicting pain ❤  heh~ Thank you so much for reading and I hope you’ll enjoy the future chapters!

@pandafish said: A very intense and dramatic reveal!  I can't want to hear about their history!

Thank you so much my dear! I hope you’ll enjoy it :D

@animeimmortal said: I shit you not i have never been this mad before. The other cliffhangers? Fine ill just deal with it. but this one? LET ME LIVE FOR ONCE I BEG YOU JUST ONE CHAPTER WITHOUT A CLIFFHANGER PLEASE DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE FROM THE LACK OF KNOWLEDGE I AM SO FRUSTRATED I NEED THE REST GOD PLEASE OMG ❤ love you ❤

U mad bro? :3 tehe~ But thank you s always for reading it despite wanting to kill me ❤  I love you too!!

Anonymous said: When she asked to touch his fangs and he was like 'go ahead I won't stop you' I literally had to refrain from shouting TITLE REFERENCE! BOOM!

This isn’t the first time that the title has been mentioned in the series! Jungkook has said it before and so has the reader ;) But it was probably less obvious because I like to slip in those things to see if anyone picks up on it~ heh^^

Anonymous said: *glares at you author* I was this close to knowing. NOW I HAVE TO WAIT 7 MORE DAYS TO GET MY ANSWER TO WHY I'M VAMPNIP!!! GRRAGH>:( But on the bright side, this chapter wasn't as angsty as I feared! Hooray! :) *but I'm still mad at you hmph*- love Vampnip anon

*glares back at you and smiles* muhaha~ Don’t be mad at me because I love you very much ❤  hehe thank you so much for reading it my dear!

Anonymous said: AAAHHH I've waited so long for this IWSY Chapter *^* My jaw dropped when "I" called the Queen 'bitch' >.< I also really wanted to read about her finding out that the Jeon's are the royal family and her beloved Jungkook is a PRINCE <3 maybe in the next part~(?)

Haha yes! You called the Queen a bitch! c: But it can be forgiven I guess due to the circumstances lol ^^ YES MAYBE SO! ❤  thank you for reading the update dear ^^

@omelys-space said: Once again such a great update ❤ I am glad that they all opened up to her and that she had her time to freak out but calmed down pretty soon after that  Excited to see what she is now and again gotta give some love to Serrena  She is such a babe 😍 Thank you for your hard work and till next week ❤

Ahh thank you so much my love ❤  I’m happy that you enjoyed it and I hope you’ll look forward to next week too! ^^

Anonymous said: You always leave me crying, my heart full yet broken. Every Tuesday. And it's okay because art takes time.

Ahh you make me sound like such an emotional abuser :c I don’t mean to break your heart! *hugs* hehe~ thank you so much for reading the chapter dear ❤

@deboracorrea25 said: OMG!!! Perfect, simply perfect! I just love the way you write,  the way you make us feel all the emotions of the characters. I could feel the surprise, the anger, the acceptance, and even the love. I couldn't imagine this to be better, and I know next week chapter of "I won't stop you" will be flawless too. Thank you again for writing this fanfic. Love you!

sdfghj you’re too sweet for your own good, i’m so glad that you could feel all the emotions that everyone in the chapter was feeling ^^ thank you so much for reading it and for looking forward to next week - I’ll do my best!! ❤  I love you too :D

@mocking-butts said: OH MY GOD IM SCREAMING FOR THIS CHAPTER~!! I was literally at the edge of my seat when they were telling her and oh my god I almost cried and I need it to be next week I want to know so badly I love this story so much teach me the ways oh wise one. I love this story so much I can't even right now.

It’s only 6 days away now! *sweats* lolol c: Thank you so much for loving the story, I really really appreciate it that ❤

@fashionkilla124 said: I am SO FUKIN DONE WITH IWSY. I WAS CRYIN AT FIRST BUT HAD ME DYIN AT TGE END I CANT JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL.😩😩😂😂

*pats your head gently* there there my love, its okay~ ❤

@kookies-hoe said: ARGHHHHH 'I won't stop you' JUNGKOOK YOU TEASEEEE AND ALSO HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME, THE CLIFFHANGER 😭😭😭😂

Ahhhh but it’s not the first time that the title has been mentioned in the series!Both Jungkook and the reader have said it before :3 thank you for reading it my lovely!

@mysr3 said: SARAAAA!!! I LOVE YOU!!! You saved JK heart and my heart at the same time This chapter I love it. The details are amazingly well portray and I love the humor you threw in there to emphasize Y/N characters in the state she is in or her personality in general. ahhh I love your writing! But you just ripped my heart out dying to know the whole story! I was so sure you would reveal today! I thought I had nailed how today chapter would turned out but I was wayyy offff lol Well played my love ❤❤❤

I’m glad I could save your heart and rip it out at the same time hehe ❤  I’m so happy that you could feel everyone’s response and their personalities in the chapter too ^^ Thank you for reading it dear and I hope you have a wonderful day!

Anonymous said: THAT ITALICIZED I WONT STOP YOU I SCREAMED BIIITTTCCCHHH YAAAAASSSS 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾 I love it SO MUCH also the garlic bread part I died that was so fuckjng funny and then the to be continued 😭😭😭😭 y u do dis 2 mE ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

This isn’t the first time that the title has been mentioned in the series! Both Jungkook and the reader have said it before c: LOL I chuckled at the garlic bread reference when I was writing it haha (i’m so pathetic lol) Thank you for reading it despite the frustration of waiting ❤

Anonymous said: If you keep ending IWSTY chapters like that I'm going to explode. It's been continuous cliffhangers omg. I love the story and I can't wait for the next chapter!!❤ love you

Please don’t explode, that would make me mega sad :( And yes - continuous cliffhangers are kind of my thing? my style? lolol I’m sorry but it is what it is! :P Thank you very much for reading and I love you too pumpkin ❤

Anonymous said: okay SARA what the absolute HECK why must you play with our feelings that way?? i really thought we were going to get the tea ☕️ on what the reader is but NO ahhhh lovely chapter though omg 11/10 as always!!!!

Because I love to play and toy with people’s emotions~ does that make me a bad person? c: lolol thank you for reading and enjoying the chapter my love!

@doubletroublesince1994 said: I didnt expect this reaction at all! I thought she'll stay mad for 2 or 3 chapters before finally accepting it 😂😂 On a side note, I particulary loved this chapter because Ive been waiting for the declaration since day 1! Can't wait for tge 2nd part

Ahahaha I hope you still enjoyed it though my love! And it makes me really happy to hear that you’re looking forward to the next part too! Have a wonderful day babe ❤

Anonymous said: Oh my gosh this chapter was so good!!!! I can't believe that Jungkook finally told Y/N!  Thank you for writing this amazing series. ♡♡ - self care anon (and yeah, I'm trying to take care of myself. The routine is the most helpul part. Love you!)

Hi there self care anon! I’m glad to know that you’re still taking care of yourself and that my series can attribute to that self care routine ❤  And I’m also really happy and thankful to know that you enjoyed the chapter, thank you so much for reading it and I hope you continue to take good care of yourself ❤

Anonymous said: O.o Oh mai gawd Sara, that was sooo good. IWSY part 21, (y/n) stays!!! Yess!!! I've been so excited for today, I was so anxious to see whether or not (y/n) runs out on Jungkook and I'm so glad this part ended the way it did. Without a doubt, IWSY is the main reason I put up with tuesdays. ily soo much! can't wait for next part! - army anon

Hello army anon! I’m so glad to know that you enjoyed the new part ^^ and yes! (Y/N) was never going to run away or leave Jungkook - she loves him too much :D I love you too and thank you so much for reading it!

@audreymv said: MAMA IS ABOUT TO GIVE STORYTIME WOAH.  This was a roller coaster of a chapter like she yelled at them and she was angry wow and then like wow next thing ya know is she is apart of the ancestral line. Maybe her parents died by mistake. Ooo it's getting interesting

STORY TIME WITH SERRENA TURN UP! lolol~ Thank you once again for reading the new update and I hope you’ll enjoy next weeks too! Have a great day my love ❤

@btsfanficss said: What the heck I swear I was following you this entire time :o BUT ANYWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EXISTING I LOVE IWSY SO MUCH IVE BEEN FOLLOWING IT FOR SO LONG ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

That’’s okay my dear don’t worry! A lot of the time I assume I’m following people but it turns out that I’m not so I totally understand xD Thank YOU for existing too and thank you so much for reading IWSY ❤

Anonymous said: Not gonna lie, I squealed like a fangirl when Jungkook said, "I won't stop you" LOL. But you're seriously killing me every week sara! I die every Tuesday, then get resurrected the next Tuesday just so I can't read the next chapter 😂 UGH AND AGAIN? REALLY SARA?  IM STILL WAITING TO FIND OUT WHAT Y/N IS 😭😂  I'm hoping the next chapter will be nice and long for me to indulge in 😉... and not gonna lie, I'm scared of the idea of vampires, BUT I REALLY WANT ME A VAMPIRE JUNGKOOK OMG 😜 - 7:45 Anon

Did you know that this wasn’t the first time that Jungkook said I Won’t Stop You? The reader has actually said it before too c: lolol And don’t worry - the next chapter will probably be around 7k words (just like this chapter was), because it’s essentually the chapter that I explain the lore I’ve created/decided upon ❤ AND SAME I REALLY WANT A VAMPKOOK and I also want Vampire Vmin too lolol~~ Thank you so much for reading the new chapter as always 7:45 anon ❤

Anonymous said: YESSS I WONT STOP YOU AAAh. This made my day lol , I love you!!!! Have a great day c:

Did you know that this wasn’t the first time that Jungkook said I Won’t Stop You? The reader has actually said it before too c: hehe ^^ I love you too and thank you so much for reading my dear!

@ineffabl-y said: IM SHAKEN OMFG but like WHEN IT SAID THE TITLE I SCREAMED also you should use this thing called interactivefics and it lets the reader insert their name inside the fic and I love it!!! just a suggestion tho ANYWAYS CANT WAIT TO BE THIRSTY FOR THIS FIC TILL NEXT TUESDAY <3

Did you know that this wasn’t the first time that Jungkook said I Won’t Stop You? The reader has actually said it before too c: That’s good that there’s a site like that but I think for now I’ll be staying on tumblr because if I moved and started uploading somewhere else, people might get confused :( Thank you so much for reading my love and I hope you have a good day!

@ohheyitsebonyrose said: Saraaaaaaaa my queen. That part was amazing. I'm so glad the protagonist knows of vampires now ^.^ IM SO CURIOUS TO SEE WHAT SHE IS!!

Yes she finally knows! What a relief hehe ^^ Thank you so much for thinking that it was amazing! I hope you’ll enjoy next week too my love ^^

@theninjachan said: I die every Tuesday and rise again every Tuesday. Thank you. Chapter 21 was a delight (cont.) Oh and “Go ahead; I won’t stop you”  Nut bust x10000000000

Did you know that this wasn’t the first time that Jungkook said I Won’t Stop You? The reader has actually said it before too c: Hehe, thank you so much for reading it my love and I hope you’re having an amazing day!

Anonymous said: I CANT TAKE NO MORE. THIS TUESDAY TO TUESDAY IS KILLING ME. I JUST WANT Y/N AND JUNGKOOK TO BUMP UGLIES AND BE HAPPY. BUT THIS CHAPTER WAS SO INFORMATIVE AND INTERESTING LIKE I WAS LIKE AHHHHH SNAP ITS GOIN DOWN NOW. But on a real note like this story is my shit. I don't mind waiting every week but I do. But like I don't. But then again I do. I'm just confused and I need to know what up with y/n cuz my theories are hella wild and I need the tea ☕️. I love you so much! 💜 ~LilKookieAnon

BUMP UGLIES AND BE HAPPY LMAO I LOVE YOU SO MUCH LIL KOOKIE ANON :3 I love you too and don’t worry, all will be explained in time, I promise you!! Have a wonderful day my dear and thank you so much :3

Anonymous said: Wait, so since Serrena is older then Jeonju does that make her a cougar?  🤔😂

I mean, I guess so c: A hella cougar tho! hehe~~

Anonymous said: I HAVE NO WORDS. That chapter was amazing!!!!!! I'm jungshook. But in all honesty I really want everyday to be Wednesday!! *sigh* I'm so excited for chapter 22! -Tall anon

Thank you so much my dear! That means so much to me Tall anon :D I’m so happy you enjoyed it!!

Anonymous said: How long do you think I Won't Stop You is going to be because honestly I need it to be as long as possible!! I absolutely love it

I have no idea how long it will be but it won’t be ending any time soon ^^ you guys will know as soon as I do! thank you so much for reading and enjoying it my dear ^^

Anonymous said: OH MY GOD I LITERALLY SANK DOWN IN MY SEAT WHEN HE SAID "I WON'T STOP YOU" ITS LIKE YOU MADE ALL OF THESE CHAPTERS JUST TO SAY THAT ONE PHRASE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH IM SCREAMING

Did you know that this wasn’t the first time that Jungkook said I Won’t Stop You? The reader has actually said it before too c: It will be a reoccurring sentence throughout! I hope you’ll be able to find them all c: hehe I love you so much too and I’m so happy you enjoyed the chapter!!

@jynxy24 said: I hate you so much, Sara. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEEE AND JUST AS SHE WAS ABOUT TO TELL?! COME ONNNNNNNNNNNNNN! (Reader was adorable with the way she was asking question :3) I swear when I saw that cliffhanger, I was like, "Wha- Uh- Sara!" ISTG I'M SO CONFUSED AND FRUSTRSTED😂😂😂 Staph torturing me, Sara😂

Awww don’t hate me because I LOVE YOU very much c: And you should know by now that I love to torture you c: But thank you very much for reading the new chapter Jynxy my love ^^

Anonymous said: God damn it you know like what even what the actual fuck. I am more than shook rn ok. I am relieved nothing too bad happened but I am on edge now with that cliffhanger (& all others). I love it & dislike it (I don't like using hate cuz it's a strong word u kno). I'm sure u get that a lot tho lol. I am so excited for the next part oml I'm so eager to find out what the reader is & y she makes vamps feel things. It sucks to wait but I am really looking forward to the next part 💕 take care 💕

I do get it a lot haha it’s a weird feeling to know that people love and hate me at the same time lolol xD Thank you so much for reading and I’m sorry about the frustration! I hope you’re having an awesome day my dear ^^

@ananyak26 said: Ok I love this chapter!!! How can Serrena  be so savage AND sweet at the same time?!.. And jungkook... Ahhh.. Jungkook . Great job as usual author-nim!!!

She’s a badass mum indeed! Thank you so much my love and I’m so happy you enjoyed the new chapter!

Anonymous said: Love the 'I Won't Stop You' series! I found it a few weeks back and it's amazing!!! Always looking forward for each Tuesday (well Wednesday for me since I'm 7 hours ahead of you)

Ahhh thank you so much sweetie! I’m so happy you found it and that you’re enjoying it ^^ And ugh, damn timezones, they ruin everything!! lol I hope you’re having an amazing day ^^

@angelbeats47 said: YO SARA!!! I'm really getting angry reading I Won't Stop You!!! Like seriously you're writing is fantastic and I can't handle this anymore.... I literally threw my pillow as I finished reading the latest chapter 😡😡😡😡 THIS STORY IS TOO GOOD! I'M GETTING MAD BECAUSE I GOTTA WAIT ANOTHER WEEK FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER 😫😫😫😩😩😩 ugh so good so good 👌🏽👌🏽👌🏽

Hiya doll! :3 You only have to wait another 6 days so it’s not too far away right? c: hehe, thank you so much for reading and I’m sorry it makes you angry :P I hope you’ll enjoy the next chapter!!

Anonymous said: I die every Tuesday bc of your clifghangers!!! Asdfhklhdf your work is so good,  i literally binge read all of 'i won't stop you' yesterday and its killing me inside!! Also, a part of me wants yoongi to fall in love with her and become a better person but i also want her to end up with jungkook ahhhhh can u feel my pain T__T

Awh thank you so much my dear! Glad to know that you’re enjoying the story and I’m sorry about the frustration you feel heh ^^ Have an awesome day/night!!