#he gets overwhelmed if too many people are in the hallway on the way outside or inside

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

My cat, seeing me replace the filter in the brita I usually use for him and cooking: MOTHER! I THIRST!

I continue to run the water through the filter once as the instructions say

Me cat: MOTHER!!! >>:{ MOTHER I THIRST FOR THE REFILL! MY MUG LIES EMPTY UPON MY WINDOWSILL!

I finally fill up his mug and set it on his little coaster

Him: sigh, FINALLY! I thought you would ignore me forever! You kept trying to distract me with food but that would never work (for more than 45 seconds) for I am PARCHED and practically dying of dehydration! You left me alone for so long and I thought I would die!

I left him for less than 20 minutes to get a few groceries

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely! Can you do poly!wolfstar or either of the two with reader who suddenly feels rlly overstimulated at a party despite the fact that she parties a lot? Thank you! <33

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: overstimulation, not explicitly a panic attack but looks p similar, thick crowd/claustrophobia

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The crush of bodies is almost too dense to see through. Luckily, Remus can look over most heads. 

He ought to have known better than to try to carry three drinks on his own. Nearly a third of the one that’ll have to be his has spilled down his hand and wrist, the three of them held over his head as he pushes through the crowd. It’s a rather large apartment, but an apartment still, which Sirius' coworker has absolutely packed with people. Remus is fairly sure if he looked over he’d see the door to the hallway is open, party guests spilling out into the hall where the smoke from cigarettes and spliffs floats back inside. It’s a nice home, but it smells like any underground club now, like smoke and drink and too many bodies. 

You and Sirius aren’t where Remus left you. He doesn’t think much of it. It’s difficult to stay in one place with this many people moving about like undisciplined schools of fish. He skims over the tops of heads until he finds a familiar one, Sirius’ dark hair gleaming in the low light of a corner. He’s holding you close to his front, your face in his neck and his hand cupped protectively over the back of your head. He looks like he’s speaking into your ear, dark brows pinched. 

Remus’ heart clenches. 

He spills more of your drinks as he hastens to you, sets them down on a mantle on the way. Sirius catches his eyes when he’s nearly there. He says something to you, rubbing your back. 

“Hi.” Remus has to speak louder than he likes, over the sound of too many other voices. He devotes one hand to the back of your neck and the other to Sirius’ shoulder. “Everything alright?” 

Sirius shakes his head. He looks anxious. “I don’t know what happened,” he says. In a sweeter voice, his hand moving over your back, “I think we’ve just got a bit overwhelmed, hm?” 

You haven’t reacted to Remus’ presence. Now that he’s closer he can see you’ve got your fingers curled in the front of Sirius’ shirt like a lifeline, your grip tight and rigid. 

Remus gives Sirius’ shoulder a squeeze. “Sweetheart,” he says gently, “can you look at me?” 

You turn your face from Sirius’ shoulder. Your eyes are glassy and wide, your chest falling in quick, short pants. You look like you don’t know what’s happening to you, either. 

“You’re okay.” Remus presses a kiss to your temple, looking around to assess your options. “You’re okay, my love. We’re going to go somewhere quieter, alright?” 

The door’s too far. If the crowd’s what’s overwhelming you, it could only make things worse to push through. There’s a line for the only bathroom. But there is a balcony, not too far and better than nothing if you can get to it. 

A speaker nearby booms as Remus reaches for Sirius’ hand. He’s murmuring to you, something Remus can’t hear over the music, but he looks up at the touch. 

“You’ve got her?” Remus asks.

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” He presses a quick kiss to the back of Sirius’ hand before starting to tug the both of you along. 

The crowd parts more easily for Remus than it would for either of you. He mutters sorrys and excuse mes as he plows through with the two of you in tow. Sirius keeps you held tight to him, your hands still fisted in his shirt. When Remus opens the sliding door to the balcony, the difference in both air quality and noise level is pronounced.

“Can we have some space, please?” Remus asks the couple smoking outside. His voice comes out sharper than he intends, curt and all business, but he can’t find it in himself to regret it when they quickly put out their cigarettes and head inside.  

Sirius helps you into a chair. “I know, baby, I know, just take a breath. We’re okay, see? Everything’s alright.” 

Your first deep inhale sends twin tears tumbling down your cheeks. It shudders back out of you. You seem like you’d been frozen, trapped inside your own head, and now you’re coming back out. 

“There you go.” Remus’ voice is softer now. It aches in the back of his throat, worry and love and guilt at leaving you two alone. Though you did have each other, and it seems it’s a good thing you did. “Just keep doing like that, babydove. We’ve got you.” 

Sirius looks pained at your tears, but he rubs your leg and crouches on the floor so that Remus can take the chair beside yours. Remus sets a hand on his boyfriend’s head as he sits, smoothing down his hair to rub between his shoulders comfortingly. 

They let you work through most of your anxiety in silence, offering only the occasional murmur of encouragement or weak, consoling joke about fire codes. Eventually your breaths even out and your tears stop. You let your head loll onto Remus’ shoulder, expelling a sigh. 

“I don’t…” you mumble. “Don’t know what just happened.” 

They’re both relieved to hear your voice, Sirius squeezing your leg affectionately while Remus smooths a few pieces of hair from your face. “There’s an awful lot going on in there,” says Remus, lips a whisper away from your hairline. “Gets to be a bit much, yeah?” 

“I guess.” You sigh again, almost frustratedly. “Sorry, it’s not like I’ve never been to a party before. I don’t get why I did that.” 

“You don’t get to be sorry,” Sirius says lightly. He drops a kiss above your knee. “The only person who should be sorry is Michael, when the fire department shows up here because he’s got too many people in his fucking one-bedroom apartment.” 

“You tell ‘im.” You sound exhausted. Your head weighs heavy on Remus’ shoulder. 

He touches his lips to your hairline. “You feeling ready to call it a night?” 

You hum. “I could be, but I’m also okay with sticking around if you guys want to.” 

“Oh, my sweetheart.” Sirius surges upward, hugging you around the middle. His nose nuzzles your shoulder, and you smile tiredly, patting him on the back. “You can’t stay here for us after all that. Fuck, I don’t think either of us want to stick around, either.” 

“No,” Remus agrees. “This crowd is horrid. I’m ready to go home.” 

“I’m ready for pajamas, and cuddles, and” —Sirius’ voice grows muffled as he mushes kisses into your neck— “our soft, soft bed.” 

“You make it sound quite nice,” you say, smiling for real now. “I guess I could call it quits for the night. Twist my arm.” 

“Yeah, I won’t be hearing any arguments. I want to go home, and you carousers can’t stop me.” Sirius plants a final, firm kiss on your cheek, grinning too. 

“It’s going to be a bit of work to get through to the door,” says Remus. He brushes his thumb gently over the place Sirius’ lips had touched, chest warm with affection. “Once you’re feeling up to it, we can go.” 

“Oh.” You turn your head to look in through the window at the densely packed apartment. “Do you think we can take a few minutes out here first?” 

“Course, sweetheart.” Remus kisses your head, easing it back down onto his shoulder. “Take all the time you need.”

[strawberry-hachi]

Nekoma falling head over heels for their manager? Yes.

It was just a coincidence that you were transferring to a different school in the Tokyo area. It was just a coincidence that you happened to like volleyball. It was just a coincidence that the school in question was Nekoma, which was closest to your guardian's work.

What wasn't a coincidence however, was getting kicked off the girl's volleyball team for retaliating against some girls who were picking on you for coming into the school year late.

So now your only way to really do anything volleyball related was to do it outside of school or become a manager for the other team.

Nekoma hasn't had a manager in who knows how long so of course they jump at the chance when you are somehow brought along as one of Kuroo's many friends.

He was able to convince you with the allure of skipping class for games as well as more help with homework and who would pass up good grades and the chance to play volleyball? Not you.

Kuroo has always had an eye for you, believe it or not. He is a logical person, even underneath all that mischief and wild flair. He had a way with words and an even better way with figuring people out. So it's no wonder he would attempt to talk to the new person who suddenly appeared at Nekoma one day. Even less surprising was him falling face first when talking to you.

All you did was help him when his school supplies got trashed from a particular nasty fall he took early in your time at Nekoma, and that was it for him. He was stuck to you like a parasite despite the different classes and year. He was hooked.

He was a logical person until he wasn't. Such as when Kenma oversleeps on purpose to avoid playing games, or when Yaku gets on his nerves for the nth time that day. He was logical with certain people, and perhaps a bit of a menace with others. He isn't really sure where you fit in his us vs them mentality and he isn't sure if he wants to find out. Not when you glance at him while walking through the hallway that sends a chill up his spine, or when your arms or legs brush together when you are studying together that has him shoving his head into his pillows at night, or even that one time when you had shoved him and you into a locker that was much too small for both of you so you could avoid the girls on the volleyball team. Yeah. Perhaps it's better if he doesn't figure you out just yet.

And it wasn't long till he began bringing up the idea of manager, even more so since you got kicked off the girl's volleyball team.

So now you are being introduced to the team as Kuroo practically vibrates with joy because his favorite people are coming together for something he loves.

And it's not long till Yamamoto tries to approach you. Despite his rather intimidating demeanor, he is a sweetheart and a bunch of nerves at heart. He could only keep his eyes off the ground when talking to you once and so you simply gave him the space he needed. He was obviously overwhelmed and somehow, this was all he needed to have confirmation with himself that he liked you.

Just like the Humpty Dumpty duo at Karasuno, he can be a bit overbearing at times. You can't seem to exactly shake him off even when he is practically dying on the floor.

You need to refill the water bottles? He can help if you let him! You need to help plan the team schedule? He has the entire night! You need to pick up some groceries? He's already got it!

You know who is just like Yamamoto but x10? Lev. He is such a sweetheart but goodness gracious sometimes he needs to take a step back otherwise he will take all your personal space.

He first approached you about a week after you joining the team and it was because he almost fell onto you while trying to get his water bottle. He had apologized, of course, but not without taking note of how nice it felt to hug you.

Lev, as you learn later, has always been the affectionate sort and it grew from his older sister, Alisa, who would constantly dote on him. You met her much later during nationals, which you had attempted Lev to try and set her up with you but it resulted in absolutely dreaded failure because Lev immediately passed out upon the request and Kuroo, upon hearing said request, attempted to take Alisa's place.

Lev, as he later learns, is that he developed much more than a stupid puppy crush. He isn't sure exactly when it started. Maybe when he first met you and how he almost crushed you under himself, or maybe a bit later on when you two accidentally got locked inside the gym because you were practicing late together, so you two talked until dawn. It could've even been the instance when you taught him how to do a floater serve and he clearly remembers how your hands held his and your body up against his back as you focused on the ball instead of his red face.

It was from then on you didn't escape practice without Lev trying to glomp you at least once, and you aren't entirely sure if you hate it or not.

Someone who does hate it would be Yaku, who can't seem to stop yelling at Lev each time he goes rushing to you for help with his spikes and receives.

The first time Yaku interacted with you was a little after Lev did, with Yaku scolding the boy for trying to "run you over" (you could probably tackle and eat Lev alive if you really wanted to but you didn't mention it).

Yaku has told you that you are too soft on the boy and he needs more discipline if he wants to be good, but you honestly don't have the heart to be as mean to him as you would be with actual teammates.

Yaku, quite frankly, finds it infuriating how soft you are with Lev, and the team in general, but he won't say anything about it if it means that he gets to call you in the middle of the night after a particularly rough practice to hangout. If it means he gets to see you look at him with such a soft smile on your face that he seldom sees during school, he is more than willing to let it slide.

And if you two accidentally get trapped in the storage room one day, it isn't exactly his fault if you two decide to use each other as warmth until they unlock the door. His face was red anyway, he's sure that you won't think twice about it.

Fukunaga on the other hand, is someone who probably over thinks every single little thing you do in relation to him.

It was around the time you met Inouka that you met him. You were helping Inouka with rounding up the stray balls when you had responded to one of Inouka's questions about your volleyball skills with a joke (as you often do because why go into detail about how often you had beef with your own teammates?!). It was then that Fukunaga had fired a quip back and turned the question once more onto you had you two finally learned of each other's existence.

Perhaps it's why you two are so aware of every little thing either of you say.

You said hi to him, does that mean anything? Oh you helped him with his serves, that must mean something right?

However, just because he is prone to overthinking (just as you are with him) doesn't mean it's his whole character. More often than not he is trying to come up with jokes for you and is probably the one you talk with the most if Kuroo wouldn't constantly stalk (he doesn't actually and he swears by this but Yaku and Kenma find it funny as it is something to hold over his head) you.

It's odd to say the least. He is usually the most detached of all the people in Nekoma's team and yet despite this, you find yourself absorbed in conversation after conversation with him. It was a matter of time till he started looking for you in every single room, unconsciously or not.

Liking someone is a foreign concept, especially in the way Fukunaga sees you and so you can't blame him when his jokes slowly turn to pick up lines every so often or he replies to your quips with compliments to throw you off. It's not like you can blame him either when he decides to try and plan your conversations ahead of time so he can catch you at every single front. Perhaps even get you flustered in the same way you do to him he so often finds.

Someone who doesn't show his emotions, however, is Kenma, who you've never really gotten a good read on.

He was perhaps one of the last ones that you had truly met before things kicked off with the team.

You'll admit, the way you met him wasn't the best. It was after practice and it was particularly stormy that night. You had an umbrella but a certain somebody didn't.

Kuroo, bless his heart, had left earlier before the storm came full blast to get something back home, and so Kenma was planning to walk through the rain until you offered him your umbrella.

You had more than once ran through the rain because of practice running late and so you thought nothing of it, but instead of him going with it, he simply took it and glued next to your side until you got home yourself.

It was an awkward walk as you stood shoulder to shoulder, and even more awkward when you got home as he bid you goodnight like some boyfriend and walked home; umbrella still in hand.

It was a Friday and so you did not see him or your umbrella until Monday, and so when he gave it back during class it was quite the sight. Yet, he did not seem fazed from all the stares and whispers. Not a bit.

You don't think you'll ever be able to read his expressions.

Him on the other hand, finds you quite the enigma. You were known as some wild dog since you had attacked three of the members on the volleyball team at Nekoma your very first day, and yet had acted so kindly, if not reserved, as a manager.

Even more so when he saw the way some other members looked or spoke of you.

He caught on quickly with the other's feelings for you, and he wasn't sure you'd ever come to realize, but that's okay. It's perfectly fine if it means he can take you to the rooftop to hangout without any pressure of another. The moment he perhaps truly fell head over heels, however, was during their summer camp that Karasuno was invited to. You had met Shoyo and hit it off, and he, somehow, was able to convince you to teach him how to serve. Something perhaps all of Karasuno + Kenma knew how bad Shoyo was at it.

It was then he fell, he thinks. To see someone so straight laced and aggressive during school hours willingly help someone with a smile on their face? Yeah. He fell hard.

And he struggles to show this to you and not others, especially considering how Kuroo has attached himself at your hip and Lev at your arm. Especially considering how Yaku always tries to find time to hang out with you and Fukunaga talks to you all the time. It infuriates him to no end but yet you still have patience for him even after all that socializing. You still have time to watch as he beats a level you were stuck on. You still have time to get him that game he has been looking at and for once, he doesn't mind the company.

He really doesn't mind, even if the side effect comes with wanting to kiss you breathless and have you look at him the way he looks at you.

[froggibus]

Jason Todd (any version) x reader (preferably female) where Jason helps reader through an anxiety attack? Or a panic attack, if that's easier for you. And with as much fluff as possible, please?

Chilling Out - Jason Todd

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: during a party at Wayne manor, you have a panic attack, but Jason knows just how to help you

CW: panic/anxiety attacks, tight spaces (but no claustrophobia), crying, general anxiety (O7), hurt/comfort, mentions of past trauma & triggers, soft!Jason, they get ice cream, i promise it ends very wholesome. lmk if i missed anything

i haven't wrote DC in a hot minute but this request was too cute not to write. im so soft for soft Jason!! also shoutout to my trog for helping me come up w a title bcs i am dumb today. anyways hope you enjoy <3

————

Jason knows very little about your past. Or at least, the bad parts of your past. You were always hesitant to share that part of your life with anyone, and Jason was never one to pry. 

Even if he didn’t recognize the trigger, he recognizes what comes next. 

That vacant, scared look on your face. The rapid, shallow rise and fall of your chest. He notices the way you’re almost shaking, the way your eyes dart around the room looking for an escape. 

You lose more and more air with every breath. The manor is absolutely packed with guests for Bruce’s most recent gala, and having so many people in so little space is overwhelming. You dig your nails into your palms. I have to get out. 

Jason is frozen across the room from you. He’s torn—stuck between running to you and wrapping you in his arms and never letting go, or letting you be and giving you the space you need to calm down. He knows if the roles were reversed, he’d want to be left alone. He’d go and hide in a comforting space and try to regain control of his thoughts. But you’re not him. 

He blinks and you’re gone, tearing away from the main foyer and escaping into the safety of the house. 

You collapse in the closet of a random room. The darkness accepts you into his arms, surrounding you like a blanket. You squeeze your eyes shut and contract all of your muscles, trying to force air back into your system.  

Jason doesn’t realize he’s following you until the cold air of the grand entrance hits him. You’re completely out of his sight now, having disappeared into one of the many rooms of Wayne manor. He pinches the bridge of his nose—where could you possibly be?

He starts searching the rooms on the ground floor, careful not to be too loud and accidentally startle you. After none of the rooms on the ground floor turn up anything, he starts to climb the stairs. He only makes it two steps before he hears a sob that sounds a little too familiar.

He backs up, eyes locked on the closet that Bruce keeps winter coats in. It’s tucked just out of the way of any prying eyes, at the end of a hallway near Bruce’s study. It’s quiet, enclosed and of course, dark. The perfect spot to hide in. 

“Y/n?” He keeps his voice soft and even, kneeling just outside of the closet. 

You sniffle in response, strained gasps echoing off the walls of the closet. How did he find you? How did he know?

He slowly pulls open the door, giving you enough time to hide your face or protest if you need to. A sliver of light from the hallway breaks through the darkness of the closet and illuminates your face. Jason’s heart breaks at the sight.

Poor thing. All teary eyed and wet cheeked, shaking like a leaf at the bottom of an old closet. He shakes his head. This won’t do.

 “Hey, hey,” he says, “it’s safe here. It’s just us. Just you and I.”

You hear his words but it’s hard to register anything in your panicked state. Your breathing stays erratic, your heart beats so hard you’re scared it will burst. You can see Jason through the black spots and tears, but just barely. He looks more like a broken mirror than a person right now, but it’s Jason.

“Are you okay if I touch you?”

As soon as you nod, Jason is pulling you into his lap and shutting the closet door to return you to darkness. Strong arms hold you close to his chest and his scent surrounds you. 

“Close your eyes, okay? Focus on your breathing, focus on what you feel, not what you think.”

You try to follow his instructions, managing to relax enough to shut your eyes. You can feel the warmth radiating off of him, the steady bump of his heartbeat, his hands resting above your belly button. You can smell his cologne, the familiar scent filling your nostrils and reminding you that he’s really there. 

Jason keeps himself sturdy. He keeps his breathing steady and his hands still. You need stability right now, and Jason is going to be the one to give it to you. He doesn’t care if he has to hold you for an hour, or even the entire night. All he cares about is you.

Your breathing starts to steady and the burning in your chest fades. You try not to push yourself—taking slow, gentle breaths. 

“Feeling better?” He asks, and suddenly you’re painfully aware that you’re sitting in his lap, in his arms, in a dark closet.

“Y-yeah,” you say, “I think so.”

He nods. “Great to hear.”

Jason awkwardly adjusts so that he can stand, opening the closet door. He reaches a hand out to you. “How about we ditch this thing? We get rid of these stuffy clothes, take a ride on my bike and get some ice cream?”

Jason almost bursts at the genuine smile that fills your face. It’s like clouds parting to let the sun rays through—a reward after seeing you break down in his arms.

“That sounds great,” you accept his hand and let him tug you to your feet. “I’ll go get changed.”

Ten minutes later and Jason is waiting at your door, having traded his suit for jeans and a t-shirt. “Ready to go?”

He takes your hand in his and leads you downstairs, out of the backdoor and to the garage where he parked his motorcycle. He helps you do up your chin strap, calloused hands gently rubbing the sensitive skin of your neck. 

You mount the back of the bike, your feet barely scraping the ground. Jason puts on his own helmet and climbs in front of you. He revs the bike, “you should hold on.”

You lean forwards awkwardly and wrap your arms loosely around his waist. Jason seems satisfied with this and takes off. As soon as the bike lurches into motion, your grip tightens around him. You swear you hear him laugh.

The cool night air feels nice on your once clammy skin, the familiar smell of the city surrounding you. Jason drives carefully, or at least, more carefully than he usually does. You can tell he’s making a great effort to keep you comfortable.

You relax into him, feeling the curves of the bike as you make your way into the city. The streets of Gotham fly by, amber streetlights casting the whole street in a soft glow.

You feel almost disoriented when he brings the bike to a stop in a parking stall next to the ice cream parlor. The sudden cease of motion leaves you feeling like you’re still moving, and you have to wait a minute to get your bearings.

Jason puts down the kickstand and climbs off of the bike, hanging his shiny black helmet from the handlebars. “Here,” he offers you a hand and helps you down.

Your knees shake slightly but you find your balance. You take off the helmet and set it on the seat of the bike where you just were.

“So, what’s your go-to flavor?”

You smile. Jason has never been one for small talk, and he’s definitely never been as gentle as he’s being now. You melt at the idea of him being extra careful with you.

“It’s so hard to decide, honestly,” you admit. “I usually get the same thing every time, but sometimes I want to switch it up, you know?”

He nods, “I’m usually a mint chocolate chip or rocky road guy myself, but I like to mix it up sometimes.”

You spend almost five minutes discussing ice cream flavors with Jason. It doesn’t help that this particular place boasts over 100 flavors, and all of them sound equally delicious. Finally, you manage to decide and step up to the counter to order.

You order your ice cream, but before you can pay, Jason steps up behind you and places his order with yours. You go to protest, but the man is already tapping his card.

“Thank you,” you say sheepishly.

“Hey, if I invite you out for ice cream, don’t expect to pay.”

You get your ice cream and settle down at one of the picnic benches in the parking lot. It’s a nice, warm night, and there’s not very many people around. Usually you’d be afraid to be out this late in Gotham but having Jason around just settles your nerves.

“Thank you for tonight, Jay. It—it really means a lot to me that you helped me.”

You swear his cheeks tinge red. He looks at you seriously, “anytime. Seriously, if you ever need me, no matter what, just call me, okay? I’ll be there for you in a heartbeat.”

His words almost have you tearing up again. Seeing Jason so soft, so kind and caring—it just makes your heart flutter. He reaches across the table and squeezes your hand reassuringly. 

A peaceful silence falls over the table as you finish your ice cream. Jason never takes his hand away from yours, and you’re not quite sure you want him to. If you could live like this, with him, in this moment forever, you’re sure you’d never have another panic attack again.

[rowany]

Warmth on a winter's night~

(R.A.B x Y/N) 2.8K Words.

-Summary: trying to get some fresh air from a ball, Regulus and Y/N have a deep conversation far into the snow covered garden of the Black Mansion.

-Contains: dark academia/royalty romance, fluff, kissing, implied queer Sirius, slight angst, She/Her pronouns, longing stares,

-Song: Beving: Ala, Joep Beving

🌙🤍🕯️❄️

3rd Person POV.

The chandeliers hung high above the dancing crowd. People moved in sync as they glided across the room while classical music rang out from the acentric vinyl player. Couples spun and looked upon one another while the lights gave the room a faint, white hue creating an elegant atmosphere. Candles floated far above the crowd slowly swaying as if they were mimicking the guests who were waltzing below them. The tall, and exquisite windows gave only a faint light from the full moon; the stars ghosted behind the gloomy snow clouds soon to pour upon the Black residency.

A large mural of a Roman painting was the background of Regulus Black as he gently pressed his back to the wall. Regulus was never exactly the social type, at least not at this large of an event. It was the winter solstice and the Black Family was known for their Winterfest Ball. Regulus was enjoying the music and simply observing the guests gliding across the smooth marble floor, a small part of him wished to have a partner to dance with but tried to deny his longings when Sirius was pestering him to dance earlier in the night.

Sirius was the center of attention at balls, at least among the youthful ladies who wished to snog him. Sirius would tempt them with his lush black hair and chivalrous personality but he never dared to actually go through with the snogging. Regulus watched as Sirius moved from a fair blonde girl to a more beautiful, and warm girl who looked at Sirius as if she saw a familiar sight before her.

“Good evening Sirius, how is the night treating you?” The girl spoke with a soft demeanor and danced with such grace Regulus couldn’t help but be enthralled by her.

“A good evening to you too, Y/N. The night is treating me oh so well I’ve almost been whisked away by many fair maidens.” Sirius could hardly contain his laughter at his posh language, Y/N always loved to act like they were royalty at balls to keep the mood light. Balls usually were fun for everyone except the Black children, if they made any mistake their parents would reprimand them for making a fool of their families name. Sirius used to be on edge every time he was at a ball but since he met Y/N he began to enjoy them.

“You always have fair maidens wanting to snog you!” A cheeky smile spread across her face as Sirius twirled her towards Regulus and quickly pulled her back in. Regulus recognized her but not exactly sure how. At first he just assumed it was one of Sirius flings but she seemed to stay longer than any of his previous girls, she seemed to actually enjoy being around Sirius not just for his pretty face.

Regulus watched as they continued to dance together so in sync it was almost hard to watch without wishing to be Sirius.

Regulus POV.

Sirius had spun the girl towards me and without even thinking about it I began to move towards the tall arch way opening into the hallway. I didn’t want to loiter here anymore wishing I was with a beautiful girl or anyone for that matter.

I dodged and weaved through the tides of couples dancing and slid past my parents undetected. I just needed some fresh air and a moment of silence. The music, the talking, and the stuffy air all became too much for me. I always get overwhelmed when I’m at balls, it’s just too much.

Getting to the arch way I took a sharp right, almost speed walking through the hallway and out the back patio doors. I continued to walk down the stairs off the dark patio, the ground felt cold under me. I stuffed my hands in my trouser pockets as the frost tried to nip at them. I always loved the winter, it was so quiet outside with most animals migrating or hiding in their homes. The sun usually wasn't bright, giving the outside world a dull look but I liked the “dull” look, I found it almost comforting. I just continued walking, lost in thought not listening to the footsteps that followed my own. I slowed down when I came to a willow tree with branches stretching wide with long strings of leaves hanging down.

“Regulus?” Someone touched my shoulder lightly, I turned towards them to realize who it was.

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?”

Y/N POV.

Sirius had been dancing with me for what seemed like ages, I could barely feel my feet in my heels I decided to wear. The ball had been quite exhausting so far, I enjoyed the people but after dancing for so long and constantly being surrounded by people in the stuffy ballroom I just wanted some fresh air honestly.

“SIRIUS! I'M GOING TO GO GET SOME AIR!” I had to yell over the music as it had somehow become louder and louder throughout the night. Sirius just gave me a nod and pointed towards the archway, then gestured to the right. I'd only been in the main part of the Black mansion for balls but I spent most of my summer sneaking into Sirius’ bedroom during the night when he needed someone to talk to. His parents were royally strict and hated their children having fun it seemed. They only cared for their children to uphold their family name and after that they neglected them without even another glance.

I followed where Sirius pointed and saw two tall, smudgeless, dark glass patio doors. When I walked up to the doors my eyes caught a glimpse of what looked like a dark figure, it must be a shadow from the ballroom. As I pulled open the door the cold hit my face quickly with a gust of freezing air. I wrapped my arms around me and walked down the patio stairs, through the garden. I could see fresh footprints in the snow as I walked, following them. The strides they took were large, hard to keep up with. In the garden there were lowly lit lamp posts illuminating the dark foliage of the Black’s garden. It had wilted roses with many dark boxwood bushes forming a twisty pathway. A ghastly tall viburnum bush had dark crimson berries growing, oddly tempting.

I continued my stroll through the garden at a quicker pace, I felt as if I was being pulled through the garden by twine tied around my waist. The snow made a soft squeak when I walked. I glanced forward trying to not become distracted by the greenery surrounding me, a large willow tree came into my view towards what seemed like the end of the pathway I had been following. A figure soon came into view as they moved in front of the tree’s droopy leaves. They had a slim build with incredibly dark hair that laid just below their chin, soft curls forming throughout their hair. The dark suit they wore had caught some snow as they walked, the small white flakes now decorated their suit and shoes while the majority of the flakes adorned their hair. They hadn’t noticed me as I walked closer, I reached my hand out to touch their shoulder. I didn’t want to scare them.

Regulus POV.

I turned quickly around towards who I now know to be Y/N, my brother’s best friend. I looked at her gown, realizing she was who Sirius was last dancing with before I left. All of my questions, well almost all had been answered. Sirius danced with her the longest because she wasn’t flirting with him, they were just messing around. I felt relieved in a way that my jealousy was over his best friend, not a new hook up. I always liked Y/N, she was fun and never seemed to care about anyone's opinions about her, I wish to be that carefree some day. Her face held a happy smile, a real smile. Her face was flushed from the cold I assume and her hair contained a snow globe worth of snow flakes. She was always very pretty but now she looked so naturally gorgeous it was hard to tear my eyes away from the masterpiece before me known as Y/N L/N.

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?” I realized how long I had been staring so I knew I had to speak before I made things awkward like I always do.

“I could ask you the same question Regulus, I just needed some air and I’m guessing you did too?” She always could see through me, even from how little we spoke she knew what I was thinking better than I did most of the time.

“Yeah, the ballroom always gets too warm for me, much prefer the cold.”

“It’s always so hot in there isn’t it?” Y/N’s face shifted into an understanding smile as she lightly laughed, she was such a fluid, expressional person I always enjoyed her presence.

“I don’t know how Sirius does it.” I let the words slip past my lips before even realizing what I said or who would hear.

“Does what? Dance for hours or get every girl to swoon for him.” She had begun to walk towards the tree and sit down on one of the large roots growing out of the tree, she seemed content with her seat.

“Precisely.” I answered her but I stayed still, I didn’t know if I should sit with her or if I’d make her uncomfortable with the proximity.

“You know I sat here so you would sit with me, I just look lonely now.” She let out a small huff as if disappointed by the lack of me next to her.

“S-Sorry, I just assumed you didn’t want me near you.” I quickly moved to sit by her, I could smell her soft vanilla perfume and feel the warmth radiate off of her.

“What? Why would I even think that Regulus, you’re not that terrible to be around, might even say I enjoy your presence.” Y/N let out the most gorgeous laugh, I just wanted to tape the sound and listen to it over and over again.

“I don’t know, I'm sorry for assuming, I won’t do it again.” My head fell slightly not wanting to see her face, I always apologize for my actions no matter how small, it’s what you must to do to survive as a Black child.

“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m your mother, I’m not going to get upset at you Regulus, you’re safe with me.” I felt like I wanted to tear up, no one has told me anything so comforting before. I looked at her and just smiled.

Y/N POV.

A real smile graced Regulus’ lips, I couldn’t contain my own smile.

“I didn’t know you had dimples-” Regulus’ eyes seemed glazed over, I couldn’t tell with what. “they fit you well.” I wished to just capture a photo of Regulus right now, curls tousled from the wind, flushed cheeks and nose, soft eyes, he just looked so perfect. Regulus didn’t answer, he just looked towards the ground. He wore classy black Oxfords while I wore my black heeled mary janes. They oddly matched but in their own way sorta like me and Regulus. Regulus was so form fitting whilst I was in some ways rambunctious, I never apologize for being a free spirit but it’s hard not to be self conscious compared to all the proper young ladies who attend the balls. Sometimes I wish I was more classy or proper so I wouldn’t be looked down upon.

“Are you okay?” I turned to look at Regulus just to be met with his deep gray eyes, they reminded me of storm clouds with the different shades of grays and blacks. He wore a worried expression, I hoped he wasn’t overthinking again.

“Yeah, just lost in thought. It’s so quiet it’s hard to not just be in your own world.”

“I think that’s why I must like the quiet.” Regulus smiled and looked back down at our shoes, I wondered if he was thinking about me like I was thinking of him.

“What are you thinking about?” His question caught me off guard, I didn’t know if I should tell him what I was really hung up on or not.

“Um, it’s kinda hard to explain I guess.”

“Just say something and I’ll try and piece it together, I know how hard it is to convey what’s going through your head sometimes.”

“You know how you don’t know how Sirius does what he does?-“ Regulus gave a small nod, fully looking at me, his full attention on me. I could feel myself warm up under his gaze, even with how cold it was outside. “I feel that way about most girls my age, I don’t know how they can be so modest and forgiving. I feel like I’m too human sometimes, too unapologetically myself.” A small sigh left my lips and I watched as it changed into a mist like smoke.

“I like how you are, I don’t think you should apologize for being you, you’re lovely.” Regulus’ words made me want to melt right then and there. He had a confused look on his face, like a puppy learning what being sad was but not understanding.

“I’m not too much? I know Sirius can keep up with me but I feel like everyone else just wants me to be quiet.”

“You’re the only person I don’t want to be quiet, Y/N.” I looked at Regulus who was already looking at me, I felt my heart beat a little quicker and my face get warmer. I looked back down at our shoes, smiling. I felt Regulus shift next to me but just looked forward now, admiring the plants surrounding us.

A plush jacket fell onto my shoulders as Regulus readjusted it, “Y-You were shaking, didn’t want you to get cold.” His lips were slightly curled into a smile, his gray eyes seemed even more gorgeous than minutes ago. His soft curls fell perfectly onto his forehead, his nose and cheeks pinker now.

“You’re so gorgeous Regulus.” He looked deep into my eyes as I looked into his, I never wanted this moment to end. His small smile turned into a sweet, loving smirk. Regulus seemed much closer to me now than when he first sat down. His jacket lay comfortably around me, his cologne faintly on his jacket collar just enough to get a small hint of it occasionally. I felt very safe around him, a different type of feeling from being around Sirius. It had stopped snowing by now so the moon light shone onto Regulus’ face making his features look ethereal.

“Can I kiss you?” The words uttered so quietly out my mouth I didn’t even think he heard me till I was met with his lips gently pressing onto mine. His lips were soft and plush. He tasted like champagne and a small hint of sweets Sirius had stolen early in the night. I put one of my hands in his hair and the other rested on his chest just above his heart. The kiss was gentle yet longing as if it had been long time coming. Regulus hands were cupping my cheeks as he leaned into the kiss.

We slowly pulled away to catch our breaths, our eyes never leaving each other.

“You’re gorgeous too, Y/N.” Regulus complimented a smile plastered on his face like he had won the lottery.

Regulus POV

She kissed me, the most beautiful and courageous girl I’ve ever met kissed me, Regulus Black. I could barely speak. I just wanted to kiss her over and over again till I couldn’t anymore. She looked amazing wrapped up in my jacket and her lips plump from me kissing her. I could die right here and die the happiest man to live.

“I love being out here with you but It’s really getting cold.” She stood up gracefully and reached a hand out for me to take. I grabbed her hand and began to walk with her through the garden, hand in hand. Her hands were just as soft as her lips and felt warm somehow.

“Your hands are so warm, how?” She gave me a puzzled look and then a smile worth melting for.

“I’ve always just been a warm person.” A small laugh left her lips and I couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ve always been cold, we match in a way.”

“We do match.” We both were smiling like love sick teenagers which we in fact were. I couldn’t help it, she was holding my hand and it felt so right.

She was the warmth I had always longed for.

[strangerqueerthings]

Meeting the new "King."

He didn’t like parties. Not the kind that came to mind when someone mentioned “high school parties,” anyway.

His idea of a good party was a small group of friends deep in the woods or overlooking the quarry at night, shooting the shit around a bonfire, music playing from the speakers of an open car door or a portable boombox, with a cooler full of beers and Mountain Dew, a few pizzas, bags of chips, and a few well rolled joints.

Good, close, safe company. Like-minded friends, with shared interests and compatibility based on trust.

A party with music so loud that it’s impossible to hear, mixed with the equally loud shouts of people fighting to be heard over it, in rooms packed with dancing bodies, couples doing everything but fucking in corners, and meat heads over-estimating their alcohol tolerance and yakking all over the floor- or in the bushes outside if they make it that far- was not his idea of a good time.

Eddie Munson was rarely, if ever invited to these kinds of parties- and even if he was, it’s not because anyone wants him there.

When Tina approached him between classes- after everyone had vacated the hallway, because she couldn’t be seen actually socializing with him- and handed him the flier, it wasn’t because she wanted him there. She wanted him to bring his product.

“Think you have enough for most of the senior and junior class?” she asked, only half-way joking.

He studied her for a moment, considering his options. He hated parties, he really did. He could say no, that Rick was in jail and as his main supplier, he simply didn’t have that kind of stock. He didn’t want to go, but the prospect of that many sales was too much to pass up.

He was so close to getting the last hundred bucks for that gorgeous guitar he’d seen in Chicago, and sales of that level would not only get him that last hundred, but enough for the gas to Chicago and back- and even some leftover for new picks, maybe, if he was lucky, even enough for a new amp.

The shopkeep told him he could only hold the guitar for him for so long, and Eddie was pushing that deadline to the very edge.

The truth was, he did have the stock- Rick had shown him where he grew the stuff, told him how to care for it. The cops hadn’t found it, and now the crop was his. At least until Rick got back.

So he’d told Tina he’d be there, but because it was late notice, his prices would be higher. Tina had reassured him she’d let interested parties know, and told him what time to be there, and where to “set up shop.”

So here he was, in the back yard, just on the edge of the light and dark from the back porch’s flood lamp, exchanging bud for bucks, grateful he was outside where it was nice and cool, and not nearly as loud and overwhelming.

He was vibrating with nerves and excitement. Nerves, because he’d seen Jason Carver, Tommy Hagan, and Steve Harrington- and he never could trust if they’d rat him out or not. Excitement, because he had sold over half the product he’d brought, and his pockets were full of cash.

He’d made close to two hundred bucks tonight, and he wasn’t sold out yet. That guitar was as good as his- he just had to finish selling and get the fuck out of dodge.

“Hey Freak.”

Eddie’s heart sank. He knew that voice. Hagan. Bully. Hot-head, obsessed with his girlfriend, and butt-buddy to Harrington, who was right beside him, approaching with Hagan. Great. Harrington. Goody two-shoes who lived in Loch Nora in a fucking brownstone with a heated pool, drove a BMW and wore designer clothes with his perfect hair.

Eddie had heard what Harrington did to Jonathan, and he wasn’t keen on letting him know what mattered to him, or what his hobbies were, lest the jock decide to do something similar to him.

“Tina invited me to sell, so don’t start shit, Hagan,” Eddie warned. “I’m staying out of sight, so I’m not tainting your precious party.”

Hagan gave him a shove to the chest, lifting his brows when Eddie kept his feet planted and didn’t budge. When Eddie knew he had every right to stand his ground, he did, and wouldn’t move- and he knew he had every right to be there in the capacity he had been invited for.

“Still peddling for Rick?” Hagan sneered. “Is it that garbage he sells for stupid high prices?”

“If you’re trying to get a sample, it isn’t gonna work, Hagan,” Eddie shot back. “You can pay like everyone else- it’s fifteen bucks per quarter ounce, cash only, no receipts, or fuck off.”

Harrington rolled his eyes as Hagan stepped closer.

“Tommy, it isn’t worth it, just leave him alone.”

Ignoring him, Hagan stepped closer, almost chest to chest with Eddie- who refused to back down.

“How about you give me enough for a joint, and I don’t call the cops on you, you little shit.”

“Yeah, call the cops on an entire house of folks drinking underage, ruin the party, make Tina mad at you, and end up in the doghouse with Carol. Don’t be fuckin’ stupid, man,” Harrington said, shaking his head. “If you want some that bad, pay the dude.”

“Level headed intelligence from you, Harrington?” Eddie asked, unable to stop himself- even if his tone was tinged with gratitude.

“Don’t push it, Munson,” Harrington shot back.

“Make way for the KING!” roared a very drunk voice, and Harrington immediately walked away as a shirtless guy in a kilt- whose name escaped Eddie- approached.

Hagan grinned wolfishly.

“Have fun dealing with the new King of Hawkins High, Freak. He probably won’t be as gentle and understanding as I am- not someone who does nearly a full minute keg stand.”

He followed Harrington back into the house, and Eddie turned his attention to the guy approaching him- the guy in the kilt had sat down hard on the stairs, too drunk to keep going.

Eddie felt his mouth go dry.

The new “King of Hawkins High” was probably the prettiest boy he’d ever seen in his life.

Golden skin and flaxen hair, sharp blue eyes and a chest and abs left bare under a black leather jacket, with his jeans practically painted onto his sculpted thighs, he looked like a gilded Rob Lowe, or a fairer, tanned Richard Marx.

A modern day Adonis, and Eddie felt his knees tremble a little before he remembered to lock them.

“So you’re the guy who has the good shit. Eddie Munson, right?” the gorgeous boy drawled, white teeth flashing brilliantly in his golden face, his grin wide, dangerous and gorgeous in equal measure with a Marlboro dangling carelessly from the corner of his mouth.

Eddie swallowed, hoping his throat didn’t give him away as he nodded.

“Yeah. Grow it, dry it, cure it, and sell it myself.”

“Folks say your supplier is some guy called Reefer Rick,” the boy said.

“He was. He’s in jail. I’m tending his shit until he’s out,” Eddie replied.

The boy nodded, his face serious.

“I get it. Gotta fill the void, make a buck, skip the middle man. Good business, if a bit risky.”

“You buying, or looking to invest?” Eddie joked, and his heart skipped a beat when the other boy laughed. It was like the pealing of a bell during a rolling clap of thunder.

“Invest? No, no, too much time involved. I don’t plan on staying in this shithole after I graduate- I’m just wanting to buy and enjoy a buzz to distract me from the misery that is being in a podunk like this pit.”

His blue eyes glittered, staring directly into Eddie’s like a wary, hungry wolf’s, and he felt pinned under that predatory gaze.

“So. What’s your rate?” he asked casually, flicking the butt of his cigarette with his tongue to move it from one side of his mouth to the other.

“Fifteen per quarter ounce,” Eddie replied, and the other boy pursed his lips, the cigarette flicking upwards as he reached into the impossibly tight back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet. He rummaged through it, frowning.

“All I’ve got is a twenty. Got change… or willing to do a special for a new customer?”

Eddie wanted to tell him he could have half an ounce for free if he’d tell him his name, but he swallowed his stupid star-struck feelings that would have him driven out of the state.

He put on a show of considering, frowning, putting a hand to his chin and rubbing at his lower lip with his index finger for a few moments before dropping it with a shrug.

“You’re new…. And I believe in good first impressions… so I can be generous,” he finally said, shrugging his bookbag off and opening it. He rummaged through his stock and pulled out a pre-packed and weighed bag containing half an ounce of weed.

“Twenty for half an ounce- but if anyone asks, you paid thirty for it. Can’t have anyone coming back for refunds,” he said, holding it out.

“Thanks,” the boy said, taking the bag and placing the twenty in his palm.

“Good doing business,” Eddie said, shoving the twenty into his pocket. “Just uh… go easy with that batch- that particular bag is pretty heavy. Don’t smoke any unless you don’t plan on going anywhere for a while.”

The boy grinned again.

“Just what I need- especially since there’s nowhere to go in this shithole.”

He put the back in the pocket of his leather jacket, and before Eddie could lower his hand, he grabbed it, shaking it. His grip was warm, firm, the tendons of his hands feeling like whipcord under the calloused skin.

“Name’s Billy Hargrove,” he drawled. “And I will likely see you again.”

Eddie sure as hell hoped he would.

He was no longer regretting coming to this party.

[themaiden05]

Fate (part 1)

Pairing : kartik aaryan x fem reader

Tw: none

Summary : An unexpected meeting turns into something more

‘‘Aggh how many more promotions yaar?”

“Stop whining kriti,we have only been to six places yet!”

“ya!six places in the last two days alone.Is it absolutely necessary that we go to these colleges and shopping malls and ask people to watch our film? Can't we just stick to social media?”

“ yes but one on one interaction is always better”.

“So where are we going for the one on one interaction today?”

kartik smiled and replied “lourdes college” Security was doing there level best to keep the crowd under control . All the young girls at the women's College were trying to get a better view of their one and only kartik aaryan or maybe get noticed by him. Such crowd did not overwhelm kartik or kriti as they were used to it . Both of their bodyguards managed to get them past through the sea of girls onto the stage. Both of them waved at their fans and the college officials started giving their speeches , their long boring speeches but what made kartik restless was not the long speeches it was his urge to pee. He had been holding it in for too long , all the coconut water he drank along the way had betrayed him

“stop shaking your leg kartik , it's bad”

“what do I do , I wanna pee so bloody bad”

“Right now? Oh god kartik I had warned you about all that coconut water ”

“yaya I'm gonna go find a restroom , if someone asks tell them I went to make a call”

“might as well take a security with you”

“ why do I have to pee with a security?”

“Dude no!! Not like that . Take a security with you while you try to find a restroom . Your fans do love you but sometimes it's a little bit too much love”

“ohhh ok”

Kartik and his security guard managed to get into the college hallway without drawing much attention. Kartik soon spotter the restroom sign but it was for women and he couldn't spot the men's restroom anywhere so he decided to use the women's restroom he checked if there was anyone inside just in case and when found empty he asked his security guard to wait outside for him . Right After getting out of the bathroom stall he heard a commotion outside. Apparently it was his guards voice and the other voice sounded like a woman . Her voice was sweet and at the moment very annoyed

“what do you mean I can't go in? This is a women's restroom and I'm a woman . I have all the right to go in!”

“you can't go in right now. Sir is using the restroom”

“Am i supposed to pee right here because your bloody sir decided to use the women's restroom?”

“ hey! Hey! Stop!!”

And just then the door was banged open and something came crashing on kartik or perhaps someone . It was a woman with beautiful y/h/c hair which was all over hair face . She looked up at kartik , their eyes met . Her eyes were very pretty,kartik noticed . It was the kind of eyes you could drown in , the kind of eyes romantic poets wrote about in their poems. She noticed his eyes too , they were as beautiful as his face , she realised.

“so you were that grumpy man's sir?”

“yes, I'm kartik”

Kartik saw her smile a little and realised she was even prettier when she smiled

“ I know you're kartik , who doesn't?”

“and may I ask who you.....”

Before he can finish his sentence she pulled away from him

“move aside” she commanded and ran into one of the stalls behind him

What she said caught kartik off-guard at first . He was only used to girls fighting to be closer to him and not to ones that yelled ‘move aside’ to his face but he soon realised she was as much as in a hurry as he was a few minutes before . He wanted to wait for her , to ask her what her name was , to look into her eyes once again , see her smile once again . But he heard someone call for him from outside

“sir, they want you on stage”

On their way back kartik narrated the entire incident to kriti and much to his dismay kriti started laughing

“I can't believe you had your love at first sight moment in a restroom!”

“oi hello, why does it matter where it happened , life is not some Karan Johar movie and besides maybe it was fate”

Kriti started laughing even more

“It was fate both of you had the urge to piss at the same time? ”

“aggghh why did I even decide to tell you this in the first place?” kartik said annoyed

“ok ok sorry yaar, now that you are absolutely into this mystery girl, how are you gonna find her? We don't even know her name since she completely rejected you with a move aside before you could ask her ”

“ she didn't reject me! She had to immediately use the restroom even you would have done the same thing and by the way I think I have something”

Kartik took out a brass coloured badge and it said LITERARY CLUB

“ooooh , your girl is a literature enthusiast. if we go to the college's website and seach up about this club maybe we can find something about her”

Kartik and kriti opened the website and started searching . Kartik heart was racing as he scrolled through the literary club member's list and right then kartik stopped scrolling , his eyes lit up , there she was . Her picture right next to what was labelled ' vice captain '. A jhumka hanging from her ears, she was smiling at the camera , her pretty face looked prettier when she smiled

“woah man can't blame you falling in love in the middle of a restroom . What does her name say?”

Kartik stop admiring the photo in front of him and brought his attention to her name

“ Y/N”

Y/n , y/n.. kartik repeated the name inside his head .Her name was prettier than her face kartik thought to himself . He knew he'd be taking her name quite often now . Before he turned of his phone , he took a screenshot he'd be looking at this picture quite often too .

Part 2 will be up soon!

[mykneeshurt]

Haunted part 11

A short one today, can feel some writers block coming. So bare with me!

Let me know if you want a taglist ❤️

Warnings - mentions of violence … think that’s it

Part 12

The plane ride to Chicago was a quiet one, everyone completely exhausted from the last few days in Las Almas. You’d said your goodbyes to Alejandro and Rudolfo, both of them giving you a tight hug before boarding the plane. The plane wasn’t a comfortable one, but that’s something you were used to. Hard, cold metal benches, small windows, an even smaller toilet and the overwhelming stench of man.

You’d snagged one of the corners of the plane and made a make shift seat out of parachute packs. Beats sitting on the hard bench that wrecked your back. Soap had shuffled his way over, hoping to get a sniff of the action. Dozing away you had your arm over your eyes ‘get away McTavish, I can feel you creeping over here.’ He let out a defeated laugh ‘aw hen! Come on now. It looks so comfy.’ Raising your arm you glanced over at him, his baby blues giving you a severe case of the the puppy dog eyes. ‘You’re so cute when you pout. Come on then.’

You shuffled over as far as you could and a more than overjoyed Soap joined you. He felt warm and cosy, there were still a few hours left of the journey so you nestled up on his arm. ‘You’ve got your way, now be a gem and shut the fuck up so I can nap.’ Your head bounced as he laughed ‘you’re so aggressive! Ghost is she this aggressive with you?’

Ghost retreated into the memories of you clawing at his back with your nails, biting his sensitive skin and marking him when you could. ‘Ghost?’ Soap asked agin. He blinked and subtly shook his head ‘you have no idea Johnny.’ You glared over at him trying not to smile, nestling back in against Soaps arm you caught Ghost giving you a look. One you hadn’t seen before. ‘Yah know I been thinking’ Soap said, breaking the silence ‘you’re a bit like a cat?’ Rolling your eyes you let out a sigh earning a quiet chuckle from Ghost. ‘Soap. Please for the love of god, leave me in peace.’ Taking zero notice of you he continued ‘you sleep all the time, eat and lash out at people. But you can be sooo cute too.’

You shot upright and planted a swift smack on his stomach, ‘you’re a cheeky fuck. Lucky I don’t scram your eyes out’ you laughed. Soap chuckled to himself settling back down ‘see?’ Ignoring him this time you shut your eyes again and willed yourself to sleep.

Before long you landed in Chicago, Laswell had sorted out accommodation for you. Just outside of the city sat an old house, it was just until the mission was complete. After that you had a hotel room waiting for you, complete with a working bath. The boys took to the living room and debriefed with Price, Ghost would take up sniper position (naturally), Soap and Price would rappel down from the roof and Gaz would meet with Alpha team and work their way up. Eventually converging on the same floor for Hassan. As they kitted up you felt a knot in your stomach, something didn’t feel right.

Price headed out to the car, Gaz and Soap following. ‘Simon!’ You called out, rushing down the hallway. He turned and faced you, his face quizzical. ‘Be careful. Please? It doesn’t feel right.’ He nodded before going to turn away ‘I mean it. Please.’ You begged. Ghost turned back round and reached down to your hand. Not your wrist, you hand. He pulled it up to his masked lips and pressed a firm kiss on your knuckles. You tried to hide the shock on your face, he’s only ever held your hand once before, while he was fingering you. He used his other hand to place his favourite stray hair behind your ear. ‘I will love. Promise.’

You stood in the window as they drove off into the shining lights of the city. Night had fallen, your favourite. Sitting on the window ledge you took in the stars that shone above you. Not that there were many, light pollution and all that. You studied your hand, the one he had held and smiled to yourself. Certainly was progress. Tracing your veins in your hand you took in their blue hue, the skin he had touched beneath his glove. Sighing to yourself you stood and stretched, deciding that you really should do some paperwork. Christ knows there was enough of it.

Throwing yourself into your work you didn’t hear the car pull up outside, the door burst open making you jump. You ran to the door to see the boys return, Soap limping. ‘What have you done now? You’re a nightmare, come on get in there’ you pointed to the clinic. Soap hobbled in and sat on the chair, he was covered in cuts and already developing bruises. You bent down to asses the damage as Soap looked up at you ‘gotta stop meetin like this Doc.’ Smiling you took a mental note of what you needed to start with. ‘Well if you didn’t throw yourself round like a rag doll I wouldn’t have to.’

You motioned for him to remove his t-shirt, a sight you’d never get tired of. He was broad, toned, muscles clawed at his skin. Your heart may have belonged to Ghost but Soap sure was nice to look at. ‘We got him’ Soap stated. You’d slipped straight into work mode forgetting the reason you were there in the first place. ‘Fuck. What happened?’ As you cleaned him up he filled you in on the mission, how he had to evade the AQ on his own. How Ghost helped him through it, again. How Hassan found him and had him near enough dangling from a skyscraper window. And probably the most important, how he signalled to Ghost what window to look at, in order for him to take the shot.

You stood open mouthed at the last statement. ‘Fuck Johnny. Are you ok?’ He shrugged, ‘been better, but we got him. I’ll live.’ He offered a pathetic smile up at you, you placed your hands on his shoulders ‘well I’m glad you’re ok. Offers there if you wanna talk.’ He nodded again.

‘Thanks Doc. We’re going for a drink, you comin?’

‘Yeah, let me clean up here and I’ll meet you guys in the living room.’

Changing into blue jeans, a black hoody and black Vans you quickly added some mascara and concealer. Entering the living room they were all dressed in civvies, such a strange sight. Price had ditched his signature hat for a beanie, Ghost was wearing a plain black hoodie, with the hood up and a skull balaclava without the plastic skull adorning it. His black paint no where to be seen. He looked almost human.

The taxi ride into the city was a quiet one, the adrenaline had started to wear off. The bar of choice was a dive, but you didn’t mind. You nursed a lager and the others a beer while Ghost had a Kentucky Bourbon. The tangy liquid slid down your throat far too easily. Price had begun talking about Makarov filling in Gaz and Soap about his previous atrocities. As you sat sipping the lager you felt a warm hand on your knee, looking down you saw a gloved hand resting on it. A warm rush flooded to your cheeks, pushing your luck you placed your hand on top. He didn’t move away. He didn’t feel tense. Was he finally feeling relaxed around you?

Suddenly feeling flustered you stood and excused yourself to go to the toilet. The alcohol had clearly taken its toll on you, you were never this shy around him. Splashing your face with water you tried to calm yourself, but your heat was beating a million miles an hour. You ached between your legs, longing for him to touch you again. It had only been a day since your cardio session in the shower but you felt desperate for that feeling again. As you fixed your hair there was a knock at the toilet door. ‘Coming!’

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open and caught a glimpse of a figure, before they slammed into you shutting the door with their foot. Their mouth was on yours before you could register who it was, they cradled the back of your head as their lips pressed firmly against yours. Pushing them off you, you tried to catch your breath.

‘Johnny!?’

[prairiesongserial]

20.26

John sat on the toilet lid and stared at the tile.

Every one of Cody’s footsteps grated on him, the sound burrowing into his ears. The bathroom smelled like lavender. 

“I’m going out to the balcony for some air,” said Cody. The words were worse than the footsteps. It felt like a swarm of bees inside John’s skull. It raised the hair on his arms.

“Please don’t talk to me,” John said.

Cody didn’t reply. John listened to Cody move through the cabin. The balcony door opened and closed. Then, stillness. John leaned forward so his head rested between his knees, trying to will the buzzing tension away. The smell of lavender was oppressive. He was choking on it. He listened to his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

What was probably only a couple of minutes passed like half an hour. John breathed deeply, wished the warm weight of Cody’s hands were on his back, felt his guts twist, breathed deeply again.

It was good that Cody cared about keeping others safe, John knew that, even if he didn’t understand it. Cody needed to put everything he had into keeping every asshole on this boat alive before he spared a thought toward protecting himself–like it had been written on his bones. Meanwhile, the number of people who John cared if they lived or died had recently expanded to four. It was an overwhelming number, in his opinion.

John stood up and went to the door, resting one hand on the knob as he hesitated. Cody thought the two of them would be the killer’s next targets–John hadn’t followed why. Because Cody had spent the last few days asking too many questions and inserting himself in the middle of everything? Something about valets and their employers being killed in pairs.

John turned the knob and opened the door only to have it stop, cracked no more than an inch. John tried again, more forcefully, and heard the clatter of the door against a chair wedged under the handle.

His heart jumped. He tried again. Same result.

“Cody,” he said. Then again, louder. He rattled the door against the chair violently. He was yelling at Cody more than calling for him. There was no way Cody couldn’t hear him from the balcony.

He was locked in. Why? John’s brain stuttered over the question, unable to move past it and unable to answer it. Panic surged through him, making him feel almost drunk.

He heard a sharp thud–from the room? From the hallway? John stopped trying to open the door, listening hard through his heavy breathing. Minutes passed. Cody had locked him in here and left him. He’d tried to fight Casimir by himself. One strike, then silence–between the two of them, odds were that Cody had been the one to go down in one hit.

John fought the door again. The chair wasn’t moving. Cody was less than ten feet away from him, passed out or dead, and John was choking on lavender in the bathroom. An overwhelming anger took him and he kicked the door with everything he had. Not feeling his knee’s warning, he kicked again, until the door started to buckle and crack.

John heard the door to the cabin open, and stopped. A man’s voice complained that something had fucking hurt.

“I bet,” another man laughed. “You should stop letting them get the jump on you.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” the first man growled.

Their footsteps moved through the cabin lazily, coming to stop outside the bathroom door. John locked it, and both voices fell silent.

“Well, that answers that. One of them is still in here.”

John’s mind raced. Cody might be okay. The man complaining about someone getting the jump on him might be Casimir–John didn’t know his voice well enough to say for sure. Maybe Cody had somehow managed to surprise him, stun him for long enough to get away. 

Leaving John locked in the bathroom. Asshole. John grit his teeth, ready for the two men outside the bathroom door to come and get him. The already-buckling door would come apart easily.

Come and save me, John thought. I need you. Not the rest of them–me.

One set of footsteps retreated–John heard the cabin door swing closed behind them. John breathed deeply through his nose.

“Hello in there,” came a voice–the one who’d been teasing Casimir. John tried to match it to a passenger, but couldn’t. “Are you decent?”

John decided not to reply. He watched the doorknob twist back and forth as the man outside tested it. He listened hard, not breathing. He heard footsteps, then silence. The man had backed off–why? To take a running start at the bathroom door?

The silence dragged on. Frustratingly, John heard more of his own heartbeat than whatever subtle movements might be taking place outside the bathroom.

Behind him, the bathroom window slid open.

That was wrong. The fresh wave of nauseating panic told him it was wrong before his brain caught up with why. Because they were on a ship in the middle of the ocean. Because there was no way to reach the bathroom window from the balcony.

John unlocked the bathroom door and tried to open it, forgetting the chair wedged underneath. He looked behind him, finally, at the open window. The smell of lavender was overpowered by brine. A man was squeezing his way through. He was almost too big to fit, but he steadily slipped his chest, then his hips, through the opening. He had to twist his body to do it, walking his hands down the wall in a way that was completely impossible. Like a lizard on the side of a fencepost.

John looked into the man’s face and was offered a wolfish grin. He was almost all the way through. John made a whimpering sound as he forced himself to turn his back on the monster in the window and kick the door again–one last-ditch attempt to live. He landed two hard kicks. On the second, the door splintered. If John threw his whole weight on the door, he’d make it through.

John remembered that the man in his window was named Conti, just as he felt a finger crook in the neck of his shirt.

John curled forward, goosebumps raising all down his back, and cried out. The grip in his shirt collar tightened, yanking him upright. John’s body was pushed up against the broken door, the splintered pieces digging into his thighs painfully. Conti stood right behind him, pinning him with his weight.

John went limp. He heard his breathing–shallow and animal–like it was coming from someone else.

“Easy, easy,” Conti said. “It’s over.”

Conti’s hand massaged over John’s pulse in his neck. He sighed, then squeezed down.

20.25 || 20.27

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

A Secret Leak: (Holiday Special that takes place in a bubble outside of its canon)

The snow was falling down in thick clumps as opposed to soft flakes, the wind was howling like a rabid animal, and the moon which was wearing a santa hat was glaring down at them in spite of the festive timing. Luckily, everyone was safe and sound inside the large mansion which was once Wilson's.

While inside the warm, busy kitchen, the place was lively and filled with music from one of the few working radios and chatter from the chefs and other guests, in addition to the sounds, the place was filled with the heavenly aromas of cooked turkey, potato latkes, freshly baked cookies, homemade mac and cheese, cinnamon applesauce, chocolate cake, freshly baked and buttered rolls and other dishes made by almost too many cooks.

"I just finished frosting the cake- Oops! Careful there, miss Betty!"

"Ah! Sorry-"

"Hold on, was the oven timer set for the spinach puffs or the batch of gingerbread?"

"Excuse me-"

"Watch out! Hot oil coming through!"

"NOT THE SINK! DON'T POUR IT IN THE SINK!"

"Pardon-"

"Ew! Who put the ink hearts in the stew?!"

"If you would kindly let me pass-"

"That's Stevie's recipe, not yours! Don't throw it out over some stupid heart chunks!"

"Thank you-"

"Hey! If that needs to chill, put it outside, the fridge is full!"

"Sorry-"

Betty managed to squeeze her way past the crowd of cooks back into the hallway, letting out a sigh of relief that she wasn't squished like a sardine anymore. There were many pros and cons the living doll was experiencing when it came to having a full house holiday party, while she was happy to get to talk to other people who have enough sanity and vocal chords to communicate with, but as someone who had only spoken with one or two other people at a time, a mansion full of them was very overwhelming for her. But still, she had to do her job as the host and make sure everything was running smoothly.

She checked the Kitchen and from what she could tell it was running... ...Well, better than it usually does actually. All the entries, appetizers, side dishes, and desserts were all slightly ahead of schedule and aside from the occasional oddity, all of them looked and smelled delicious and perfect.

As she checked other parts of the mansion; in the foyer, the guests were calmer due to the lack of the busy air of the kitchen, but they were still lively. Some of them decorating Wilson's makeshift prison like a christmas tree while others were telling ghost stories around the fireplace (They also appeared to be roasting giant socks filled with candies and oranges for some reason.) and a third group were playing some sort of gambling game with an odd-looking top and chocolate coins.

"A few of the appetizers will soon be served, and the musicians will be playing their songs at five." She informed the three groups who gave thumbs up as well as their varied vocal chatters of approval.

"Betty!" Wilson called out from inside the festively-decorated cage. "What are you doing?! Stop with this nonsense and get me out of here!"

"I'm terribly sorry, but I can't. You're still in jail for attempted genocide as well as other horrible things. But I can fetch you a plate or two if you want anything."

"...I'm good." his expression soured at the thought of eating anything that was prepared by those cultists, or the toon wolves who would lick the cooking utensils with the food still in it, or the dreaded ink demon. Oh speak, or in his case, *think* of the little devil... "What is he still doing here?! We're supposed to destroy him! Not put him in tacky christmas sweaters and let him parade about as if he owns the place!"

"Well if you must know, the new master of the house invited him himself." Betty sighed.

"For the last time... That mad, self-proclaimed Explorer and that squeaky, childish mess of a lost one do not own this place!" he huffed in annoyance.

"But they have the deed." Bendy interjected, his eyes narrowed at the man. "And nobody really opposes to them owning it, aside from the guy who's supposed to be in creepy weirdo jail."

"Oh I bet it took you a long time to come up with that 'brutal' comeback..." he rolled his eye.

"And how long does it take you to come up with good plans? Sixty years? Eighty?"

"Why you little-"

"Okay, that's enough of that, Wilson, you stay here-"

"Not like I have a choice.." he interjected bitterly.

"-And Bendy, would you like to accompany me for a bit? You seemed very curious about the locked doors from what I could see."

"Uh.. sure.."

The imp nodded and followed the doll, down to the wine cellar, she had originally planned on bringing the wine up last, but she knew that Wilson could probably be less insufferable to the other guests with a bottle..

...The last thing she and Bendy were expecting to see was the Projectionist creeping about.

"O-oh dear, I forgot he was invited... and that he has a body now..." she murmured as she hid behind one of the smaller barrels.

"...Is he carrying a pickle jar..?" Bendy whispered.

"I... believe so?"

While the two were still hiding, he looked around and placed the pickle jar among the bottles of wine before seemingly leaving. After waiting in silence for minutes that felt stretched into hours, the pair hesitantly left their hiding place and Betty grabbed the nearest bottle of wine, which happened to be placed in such a way that grabbing it as quickly as she did also caused the pickled jar to topple to the floor and shatter, leaving a mess of pickles, broken glass, and pickle juice everywhere.

The two flinched from the sudden loud noise and when they turned to leave they were blinded by the light of the still-whirring projector, Bendy screamed and hid behind Betty while the doll was frozen in fear...

But in stark contrast to the projectionist's typical behavior, he gave Betty and Bendy an Ink heart each and then just.. left.

Still shaken with the strange yet benign encounter, they headed up to the piano room where the band was tuning their instruments and warming up their vocal chords.

"Good evening Gentlemen, Ladies, and Searchers, how are you enjoying the party?" Betty greeted them while Bendy just waved.

"I've never been much of a 'party person', but it has been lovely- Ah! My lord! It's a pleasure to have you visit us before the show." The inky figure wearing a horse skull as a mask bowed to the imp.

"...Pleasure's all mine, Proph.." Bendy nervously chuckled as he stepped back from the mad musician. "What's with the skull? In fact, why are most of you dressed up like... that. I thought there was a 'no creepy cult stuff during the party' rule."

The prophet as well as a few of the other musicians who may or may not have also been cultists laughed at what they assumed was a joke, until Sammy saw the imp's expression.

"Oh, so you're not joking.." he cleared his throat. "While they're not exactly the most popular in America, it's Christmas tradition to have people dress up as christmas monsters; Mari Wyld, Krampus, the yule lads, Belsnickel..." he listed off before shaking his head and getting back on track. "Most of the time it's to scare disobedient kids into behaving for the holidays. The stick to Santa's carrot if it makes sense. But in my case, after the official show is over, I'm going to sing to the party, and if no one sings back to engage me in musical warfare, I am going to steal all of the alcohol in the mansion."

"I highly recommend against doing that," Betty warned the ink monster "several of the guests are rather high-strung and would want a glass or two to calm their nerves."

"If they want it, they'll have to sing against me. Yule time's rule."

"..Okay then. Enjoy your Holiday."

The imp shook his head and left with Betty following him, the two heading into the repaired library, which was still the hotspot for Keepers for the most part, but right now Wilson's former guards were all either setting the tables or engaging in some of the party activities themselves. Which left the empty library the perfect spot to unwind from the craziness.

"I swear the more I learn about Christmas, the less sense it makes..." he shook his head.

"I completely understand. When Wilson explained it to me, there was still a lot I needed to wrap my head around. The decorated tree, the stockings, the lore of Santa Claus and his magic reindeer... It really is a lot to take in to try to understand, especially all at once, I strongly suspect most of our guests grew up with or around this stuff so it makes sense to them, but for people like us..."

"...It's like a weird, giant inside joke we're not in on." he finished with a sigh.

"Precisely that." Betty nodded. "Although I do find it odd that you're also on the 'outside' of their inside joke, did the cartoon not have Christmas specials?"

"No, we had 'winter specials' we had episodes about snow, cookies, and that stuff, but there was nothing that ever directly involved Christmas and I think it's partly due to Henry's influence, he didn't celebrate it and just tolerates it." the demon shrugged.

"I see.. I'm dreadfully sorry that it's all shoved in your face like this now, Wilson might not seem like the type, but he is a bit of a festive season fanatic.."

"It's fine" the imp chuckled. "But hey, some of the other ink creatures celebrate different winter holidays, so why don't we make up one of our own? Our own inside joke of a holiday none of them understand!"

"That sounds delightful." the doll smiled.

[seitmai]

I have an embarrassing amount of thoughts lol

Unshed tears burned at your eyes and your throat as he kissed your bare shoulder. He had to go back to work tomorrow. Your parents were arriving tomorrow night. There were so many things happening all at once, and you were overwhelmed even though you barely had to lift a finger with him taking care of so much. Bradley's breath was warm on your skin as you shivered, naked in the middle of the room. "I love you, Baby Girl. Get in the shower. You'll feel better."

He really knows what BG needs 🥺

He wrapped his muscular arm around you. "I did. Eventually. She started crying the first time I set her down, and then Tramp licked her through the crib which made her cry more. This parenting shit is exhausting."

Tramp get your act together!!

"She's great. Gets a little better at sleeping every night," he replied, scrolling through his photo gallery to show him a picture of Rose in her crib. Everyone and their mother seemed to stop him on his way to the locker room, and it was getting to the point where he was going to be late to the tarmac if everyone didn't shut up.

Bradley you are a dad now (the only one in the friend group?), this is your life now and you better show your gallery with pictures only full of pics of Rose proudly to anyone who asks!

"Damn! She's adorable," Javy said with a laugh. "Kind of makes me want one." "That's called 'baby fever'," Bradley said, tucking his phone away so he could pull on his flight suit. "Apparently it's a real thing and highly contagious. Want me to put a stop to it for you?"

Not don't ruin it!! Javys kids would be cute (and beautiful) and I would volunteer

"Wait, you made Hangman the godfather?" asked Mickey from the other side of the lockers. "Damn. That's pretty wild."

Hahah other people's reactions 😂

There was something kind of awful about coming back to work after a week off with just you and the baby, and he realized he was in a shitty mood as he took the long way outside to avoid everyone else. He missed Rose, and he missed making lunch for you. He was getting pretty good at smashing up the nasty avocado stuff and globbing it onto a perfectly toasted slice of overpriced bread. He really felt like he should still be there with you just in case you needed something. 

🥺🥺🥺

"There you are," Maverick said, pushing his aviators higher on his nose as Bradley hustled through the hangar. "How's little Rose?" He wanted to tell his godfather that it was bullshit that he had to be at work when he had an adorable nine day old daughter he could be playing with, but he bit his tongue. "She's great. Thanks for the stuffed animals. The goose and the rooster were a nice touch."

He just wants to be in dad and husband mode 🥺

You quickly yanked your dirty tank top back over your head, and as soon as you walked out into the living room, you started crying.

Relatable (and I don't have a newborn lol)

And so did your parents as they crowded around you, kissing your cheeks and looking at the baby in your arms.

🥰🥰🥰

"Did my pretty girls have a good day?" he asked, stroking your cheek with his thumb and smiling at you as if you looked like a fairy princess rather than an unfed, exhausted rat. 

He's the best 🥹🥰

He smelled a bit like jet fuel, and for some reason he was still wearing his flight suit even though he knew you couldn't have sex with him. "It was just really hard," you whispered, looking up at him like you needed him to understand without you having to explain it to him. Bradley glanced around at the pump parts in the kitchen and the spit up on the floor. He held you a little tighter as he nodded. "It was really hard for me, too. I just wanted to be here to try to make your day easier." Now you were crying in earnest as your mom and dad continued to make a fuss over the baby, but Bradley was already walking you backwards toward the hallway. "I'm sure the grandparents can hold down the fort while we take a little break?"

I just love that they understood each other without saying it and just help each other trough hard moments 🥺🫶🏻

It was like night and day for you. As soon as you were with him, everything felt better. More manageable. Like you could handle all of it. Bradley pressed his lips to your temple as you whispered, "I've been waiting for this moment all day."

🥰🥰🥰

You took Rose from her and handed the baby to Bradley before throwing your arms around your mom's neck. "Thank you," you whispered, voice shaking with an emotion that wasn't unpleasant. "All of this is really overwhelming." "We're here to help make it easier. Eat your sandwich."

BG's parents 🥹🥰🫶🏻

In fact, every single thing they did, they did with a smile on their face. They were absolutely loving this. And every so often, Bradley felt a pang of sadness associated with something he would never get to experience.

Carole and Goose would have thrived as grandparents too 🥺🥲

After this week, you were going to owe your parents big time, but when you went out to the living room, they appeared to be absolutely thriving. Your dad had a rattle and a crinkle toy in his hands, and Rose was reaching for them while your mom held her. Every time the baby moved an inch, they cheered.

I love when people really kinda blossom in their roles as grandparents, I see it with my aunt and uncle, they THRIVE with my cousin's son 🥰

You had to stifle your laughter as Bradley came in through the front door with a small bundle of flowers. "Where did you get those?" you asked him as you leaned down to give Rose a kiss on her cheek. "From the neighbor's shrub." When you gave him a concerned look, he added, "I asked first! I wanted you to have flowers for date night. I'm pretty sure it's important to keep the magic alive after you have a kid."

He's so silly and sweet 🥰🥹

"Where's my goddaughter?" Jake called over the music, and Bradley pursed his lips. "She's our designated driver," he replied. "She's waiting in the Bronco."

This cracked me up, the best answer 👏🏻

"My parents are visiting for the week. They insisted we go out and have a good time." "So you came to the Hard Deck?" Reuben asked, leaning in to give you a hug. "Rooster, take your wife and the mother of your child somewhere nicer next time."

Haha Reuben is so right for this 😂

Bradley turned in time to see Bob walking in, holding Maria's hand. His cheeks were flushed pink, and his glasses were a little crooked, and Bradley could tell instantly why they were just getting to the bar now even if the aircraft carrier docked this afternoon. At least they hadn't broken up over the deployment. 

Yes!!! 🥳

"Fuck," Bradley groaned as you reached for his hand and brought it up to your chest in the middle of the Hard Deck. "I don't think you should be wasting that." You smiled and asked, "Back seat of the Bronco then?" 

No answer needed 😌

"Holy fucking hell, you're so hot," he groaned, inching your sweater up and pulling it over your head. He was looking at you like you were a million dollar lottery prize with your stretched out belly and your nursing bra. He ran his hands up your hips to your waist, and he looked you in the eye as he said, "You're stunning."

You had no shame, head tossed back, whining his name as he wrapped his perfect lips around your other nipple and helped himself. You could feel the outline of the head of his cock through his jeans. He was hard. So hard. And he felt good against your clit. You had to be soaking through your cotton underwear and leggings, but he kept guiding your hips closer and closer.

🥵🥵🥵

You noticed he wasn't as hard now, and you took his chin in your palm, guiding his gaze to meet yours. "Did you cum?" "In my jeans," he confirmed with a nod. "I can't handle how fucking perfect you are." You felt powerful as you stroked his cheek with your thumb. "You literally made me cum in my pants, Sweetheart." You gave him a soft kiss. "And you didn't even break the center console."

Ahhh I love them and their love so much 😍🥰🤤

I would love to see like their first little outing as a family, like when they get the hang of being parents a little they take Rose to one of their special places for the first time 🥰

Aim for the Sky Part 18 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When grandparents come to visit, Rose gets spoiled silly, and you and Bradley get an opportunity to spend some time alone. You have doubts about your body, but being around your husband makes you feel as good as you hoped it would.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, messing around, DILF Roo

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

You were exhausted, and your breasts hurt. There was so much to do, and Rose wanted to eat constantly. Taking a twenty minute shower felt like a luxury, but your husband insisted on it when you started to cry in the kitchen. 

"Do you want some ginger ale?" he asked, tucking Rose into the baby carrier so she would hopefully fall asleep.

"Yeah," you replied, not really sure why you were crying. Bradley patted your butt and told you to go get in the shower, promising to bring the drink in for you.

While the water warmed up, you got undressed and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your body was like a deflated balloon, and you couldn't stop thinking about how weird you looked. Absolutely nothing was as tight as it used to be, and even your face looked unamused and annoyed. And every time you thought about how much you hated the way your body looked now, you got upset with yourself, because you had a beautiful daughter.

"You didn't get in the shower?"

You had you pull yourself out of your daze to meet Bradley's eyes in the mirror. He was holding a plastic cup, and Rose appeared to have finally fallen asleep. "Oh. I will." 

You were almost embarrassed to have him in the bathroom with you as you scrutinized your new bits of cellulite and stretch marks, but he simply wrapped his free arm around you from behind and whispered, "Take your time. I'm going to put Rose in her crib, and then we can watch a movie or snuggle."

Unshed tears burned at your eyes and your throat as he kissed your bare shoulder. He had to go back to work tomorrow. Your parents were arriving tomorrow night. There were so many things happening all at once, and you were overwhelmed even though you barely had to lift a finger with him taking care of so much.

Bradley's breath was warm on your skin as you shivered, naked in the middle of the room. "I love you, Baby Girl. Get in the shower. You'll feel better."

Somehow, he was right. The steamy water pounded against your skin while you sipped your cold ginger ale, and even the sound echoing off the glass and tile was oddly satisfying. You took a few deep breaths with your eyes closed and didn't move for a couple minutes before you reached for the soap.

You didn't even try to put your own clothing on when you finally walked back into your bedroom. Nothing fit, and you didn't want to have to deal with looking at yourself like that in the mirror again, so you pulled on Bradley's old, stretched out gym shorts and one of his shirts. You felt freshly scrubbed and in a much better mood as you walked down the hallway and poked your head inside Rosie's nursery. She was sprawled out on her back in one of her fuzzy sleepers, and you smiled at Tramp curled up in a circle on the rug. He lifted his head to look at you as you turned toward the living room where you could hear the TV on with the volume low.

"Hi," you whispered, and Bradley lifted the blanket so you could join him on the couch. "You got her down okay?"

He wrapped his muscular arm around you. "I did. Eventually. She started crying the first time I set her down, and then Tramp licked her through the crib which made her cry more. This parenting shit is exhausting."

For the first time in a week, you realized just how tired he looked. Bradley made everything seem so easy right now, and you didn't know how you'd manage while he was at work tomorrow. But he looked like he needed a good night's sleep tonight. 

"Want to watch an episode of Real Housewives?" you asked.

He shrugged and tried not to smile. "Only if you want to." It was shamelessly his favorite show, so you queued up an episode and curled up facing his chest. "Aren't you going to watch it, too?" he chuckled, nodding past you to the TV.

You responded by raking your fingers through his hair, and a second later he was yawning. "I'll watch it in a minute," you lied, and he melted into the scalp massage you gave him. Each soft grunt you elicited from him was followed by him closing his eyes for a few seconds, and as soon as you kissed the scars on his cheek, he was sound asleep. Then your fingers went slack in his hair as you yawned.

The two of you got a solid five hours on the couch before Rose started crying for food.

-------------------------------

"How's the baby? Can I see a picture?"

Bradley sighed quietly to himself and turned to see Javy pulling on a pair of compression shorts next to him. 

"She's great. Gets a little better at sleeping every night," he replied, scrolling through his photo gallery to show him a picture of Rose in her crib. Everyone and their mother seemed to stop him on his way to the locker room, and it was getting to the point where he was going to be late to the tarmac if everyone didn't shut up.

"Damn! She's adorable," Javy said with a laugh. "Kind of makes me want one."

"That's called 'baby fever'," Bradley said, tucking his phone away so he could pull on his flight suit. "Apparently it's a real thing and highly contagious. Want me to put a stop to it for you?"

"Sure," Javy said smoothly, still laughing until Bradley told him the cost of the fancy daycare on base for a month. "Jesus," the other man gasped. "Never mind."

"Exactly," Bradley muttered, finally zipping up his flight suit when Jake strolled in. 

"How's my goddaughter, Rose Bradshaw?" he asked, loud enough that anyone in a three mile radius would have heard.

"Wait, you made Hangman the godfather?" asked Mickey from the other side of the lockers. "Damn. That's pretty wild."

Bradley took a deep breath and said, "I need to get out on the tarmac to talk to Maverick." 

There was something kind of awful about coming back to work after a week off with just you and the baby, and he realized he was in a shitty mood as he took the long way outside to avoid everyone else. He missed Rose, and he missed making lunch for you. He was getting pretty good at smashing up the nasty avocado stuff and globbing it onto a perfectly toasted slice of overpriced bread. He really felt like he should still be there with you just in case you needed something. 

"There you are," Maverick said, pushing his aviators higher on his nose as Bradley hustled through the hangar. "How's little Rose?"

He wanted to tell his godfather that it was bullshit that he had to be at work when he had an adorable nine day old daughter he could be playing with, but he bit his tongue. "She's great. Thanks for the stuffed animals. The goose and the rooster were a nice touch."

Maverick waved him off. "You don't need to thank me for anything. Let's have a conversation as we walk to the tower." Bradley kept up the same pace with him as he said, "I'm going to need you to stay until six today. I'll give you a shot performing a dog fighting exercise with some of the new arrivals, but you'll need to stay and write up your post lesson notes."

Bradley licked his lips. On one hand, he'd been grabbing onto every little crumb that was offered when it came to teaching on base. If he could spend more time working out of North Island and less time on an aircraft carrier, he would be able to avoid some of the long deployments that made having a wife and child at home feel so impossible. On the other hand, he was supposed to pick your parents up from the airport at six. He didn't want to send you and Rose out in rush hour to get them even though he knew nothing could beat the comfort and safety of the red Bronco.

Hopefully he could get to the airport quickly enough that your parents wouldn't even notice he was running late. He cleared his throat nervously. "Sounds good, Mav. I'll stay until six."

-----------------------------

By dinnertime, you were in tears. Rose was already crying again. You just finished feeding her. You were trying to figure out how to use the breast pump, but now it was in pieces on the kitchen island. You couldn't even manage to put ten minutes together to make it work properly. Your body looked scary, you forgot to eat lunch, your entire face was breaking out, and now Rose was wailing.

If you couldn't even make it through one day alone with her, how the fuck were you supposed to even be a mom?

"I'm coming," you called out, almost tripping over Tramp on your way back to the nursery. Your breasts were aching, and as soon as she latched on, you couldn't tell if they felt better or worse. You couldn't tell anything. You hadn't slept for more than five consecutive hours in over a week, because Rose was always hungry.

"Please take a nap after this," you whispered. "I need a nap, too." Truthfully, you wanted your parents here just as much as you wanted Bradley. Rose spit up on the kitchen floor earlier, and you kept forgetting to clean it up between her feeding frenzies. You could probably get your dad to do that. And you needed more panty liners from the story which your mom could probably handle. And you needed your husband to make you avocado toast before you withered away into oblivion. 

"We're here!" Bradley called out through the house as you finished changing a wet diaper. You quickly yanked your dirty tank top back over your head, and as soon as you walked out into the living room, you started crying.

And so did your parents as they crowded around you, kissing your cheeks and looking at the baby in your arms.

"It was one thing seeing her over facetime," your mom sobbed, "but she's even more precious in person."

"Hi, Rose. I'm your grandpa," you dad whispered as the baby yawned. "I think she kind of looks like me."

You laughed as you cried, relief flooding through your body as your mom scooped Rose up into her arms, and then Bradley was at your side, kissing your forehead. 

"Did my pretty girls have a good day?" he asked, stroking your cheek with his thumb and smiling at you as if you looked like a fairy princess rather than an unfed, exhausted rat. 

He smelled a bit like jet fuel, and for some reason he was still wearing his flight suit even though he knew you couldn't have sex with him. "It was just really hard," you whispered, looking up at him like you needed him to understand without you having to explain it to him.

Bradley glanced around at the pump parts in the kitchen and the spit up on the floor. He held you a little tighter as he nodded. "It was really hard for me, too. I just wanted to be here to try to make your day easier." Now you were crying in earnest as your mom and dad continued to make a fuss over the baby, but Bradley was already walking you backwards toward the hallway. "I'm sure the grandparents can hold down the fort while we take a little break?"

"Absolutely," your mom replied, kissing Rose's feet while your dad held her. "Take your time."

As soon as you were in the quiet solace of your bedroom, Bradley bent to remove his boots, and then he unzipped his flight suit and left it in a heap on the floor. "I think I'd feel better if we got in bed for a few minutes." You nodded in agreement, climbing into the unmade bed, and a second later, you were wrapped up in his arms under the covers. He sighed as you curled up against his chest. "Yeah. This is what I needed."

It was like night and day for you. As soon as you were with him, everything felt better. More manageable. Like you could handle all of it. Bradley pressed his lips to your temple as you whispered, "I've been waiting for this moment all day."

"God, I fucking love you, Baby Girl."

You laughed in response, but you weren't joking. "I'm so serious, Roo. I was overwhelmed, and I haven't eaten anything since breakfast. And Rose is just hungry all day and all night, and I can barely keep up."

His big hand slid up and down your arm, soothing away your stress as he murmured, "Well, you make it look easy, Sweetheart. Best mom in the world. As soon as I get my fill of you, I'll make you dinner."

You let his words sink in as you got your breathing under control. Then you finally lifted your head from his chest and kissed him. "I think I'll be okay."

Bradley sat up with you in his lap. "Let's eat something, and then we can feed Rose and get right back in bed. I'll bet I can get your dad to walk Tramp."

The two of you had only been in your bedroom for about twenty minutes, but when you walked back out into the kitchen, it was like a miracle had occurred. There was no mess on the floor. The breast pump appeared as though it had been set up correctly. Your dad was walking back inside with Tramp, already having completed a walk, and your mom was rocking Rose in her arms in the kitchen with four plates of dinner lined up on the counter.

"I hope sandwiches are okay," she said when she spotted you and Bradley. "Just something simple tonight. Tomorrow I'll make spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread."

You took Rose from her and handed the baby to Bradley before throwing your arms around your mom's neck. "Thank you," you whispered, voice shaking with an emotion that wasn't unpleasant. "All of this is really overwhelming."

"We're here to help make it easier. Eat your sandwich."

--------------------------

Having your parents stay for the week seemed to make all the difference in the world. They knew how to handle seemingly everything. When you winced after feeding Rose, your mom mentioned getting some ointment. She made a shopping list and ran to the store, and she even brought back the correct type of coffee. And your dad didn't seem to mind sitting in the nursery in the middle of the night, burping and rocking Rose after you finished feeding her so you could go right back to bed.

In fact, every single thing they did, they did with a smile on their face. They were absolutely loving this. And every so often, Bradley felt a pang of sadness associated with something he would never get to experience.

He was thankful for his in-laws, but he would give anything right now to get to experience his own mom and dad having a visit with Rose. It hurt too much to think about it for more than a few seconds here and there, so he forced himself not to. But you always seemed to have a way of honoring them even when he couldn't come up with one himself, and he was so thankful that you did. When he walked in from work on Wednesday, you were sitting at the kitchen island, pumping your breast milk and typing on your computer.

"Hey, Sweetheart. Where's the Nugget?" Bradley asked as you tipped your head to the side to let him kiss your neck.

"She's outside with my mom," you replied easily. "And my dad is taking a nap upstairs since he was up so much last night."

He hummed as he saw your mom walk across the back patio with Rose in her arms and Tramp following behind them. "What are you working on?"

You sounded calm and relaxed as you said, "Finally getting the hang of the pump. The ointment my mom got is helping so much, and I'm trying to store some of my milk in the fridge to make things easier. Oh, and I'm sending baby pictures to Brenda and the other cousins." 

You turned and kissed him over your shoulder as he looked at your computer screen. There was an adorable collage of photos of Rose as well as a family tree graphic that you made. It had everyone's name on it, including Nick and Carole Bradshaw, with the branches all leading to Rose's name in the middle.

"That's really pretty," he whispered, getting choked up.

"I thought so, too," you said, reaching for his hand. "Maybe we can get a copy printed and hang it by the piano?"

"Yeah. We should do that," he grunted, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder. "I'll be back after I say hi to Rosie."

When he walked outside, your mom was telling a very elaborate rendition of the Three Little Pigs to his daughter while she yawned like she was going to fall asleep. "Want me to put her in the nursery so you can take a break?" he asked quietly.

"I've got her," she replied, nodding back toward the house. "Why don't you take your wife out for a few hours? She's been pumping all day, so I can just give this little one a bottle if she gets hungry after her nap."

"Oh," Bradley grunted. It was Wednesday. This used to be Hard Deck night for the two of you. Nobody would expect it, and it might even be fun. "Yeah. Okay." He kissed the top of Rose's head and went back inside, taking you by the hand as you sent the photos and the family tree off in an email.

"What are you doing?" you asked as he led you toward the bedroom. "You want to snuggle?"

"Yes. Always. But right now, we're going out for a few hours."

"Where?"

Bradley smirked. "It's Wednesday."

You gave him a confused look that melted away immediately. "The Hard Deck?"

"Of course."

-----------------------------

The idea of getting out of the house took over your brain and made you feel lighter than air, but the prospect of having to wear real clothes was upsetting to say the least. You knew your jeans wouldn't fit, and just thinking about the tight waistband against your belly made you cringe. You watched Bradley change into the tropical print shirt you got him for Christmas, the one that matched Rosie's, and he looked impossibly handsome.

"I'll be ready to leave when you are," he promised, kissing your cheek as he tucked his wallet into his jeans pocket. "Just let me know, okay?"

Then he rushed from the room, leaving you alone with an entire wardrobe of clothing that made you want to scream. After looking at nearly everything you owned, you settled on black leggings that were a little too big on you before you got pregnant and your oversized red sweater. You carefully got dressed, scared to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, but you needed to put on some makeup.

The finished product wasn't too bad. You looked tired, but so did Bradley. Your outfit mostly hid your weird shape, and you were absolutely craving a beer right now. After this week, you were going to owe your parents big time, but when you went out to the living room, they appeared to be absolutely thriving.

Your dad had a rattle and a crinkle toy in his hands, and Rose was reaching for them while your mom held her. Every time the baby moved an inch, they cheered. You had to stifle your laughter as Bradley came in through the front door with a small bundle of flowers.

"Where did you get those?" you asked him as you leaned down to give Rose a kiss on her cheek.

"From the neighbor's shrub." When you gave him a concerned look, he added, "I asked first! I wanted you to have flowers for date night. I'm pretty sure it's important to keep the magic alive after you have a kid."

The Hard Deck and flowers from a shrub seemed kind of ridiculous for a date, but he was always so sincere. "Thanks, Roo. This is perfect."

He smiled as you put the flowers in the kitchen, and your mom said, "Get a move on, you two. We have everything under control."

You and Bradley were speed walking out to the blue Bronco when you said, "It's like I'm in high school again. I have to get permission from my parents to go out for the night."

Bradley's laughter put an enormous smile on your face as he buckled you in the front seat. He ran his thumb along your cheek and whispered, "You look beautiful," before closing the door. His words left your heart racing, because you knew he meant them. When he backed out of the driveway, he said, "We should stop for pizza on the way there."

It felt like a date early on in your relationship. Sitting in a booth together, constantly holding hands, legs intertwined under the table. Neither of you could stop smiling or laughing, and Bradley still had no shame when it came to inhaling slice after slice of pizza. The best part was when he pulled a bottle of the hot sauce you made in Mexico out of his pocket and set it on the table.

"Oh my goodness!" you gasped, carefully covering your slice in it so you didn't actually waste any. "You win husband of the year, once again."

"I wonder if Rose will like hot sauce," he mused before folding up a slice and eating it in three bites. 

"She better," you replied, moaning in delight. "If she knows what's good for her."

Bradley devoured the last slice when you pushed it toward him. "Let's go fuck up the Hard Deck, Sweetheart."

--------------------------------

"Mom and Dad are here!"

Bradley groaned when Natasha announced his arrival to everyone in the bar, but you just laughed and snuggled against his side when he slung his arm over your shoulders. Within seconds, the two of you were stopped in your tracks as the usual crowd and a few others came over to offer congratulations and say hello. And a few minutes after that, both of you were holding two drinks.

"Where's my goddaughter?" Jake called over the music, and Bradley pursed his lips.

"She's our designated driver," he replied. "She's waiting in the Bronco."

The aviators laughed as you shook your head and said, "My parents are visiting for the week. They insisted we go out and have a good time."

"So you came to the Hard Deck?" Reuben asked, leaning in to give you a hug. "Rooster, take your wife and the mother of your child somewhere nicer next time."

You were laughing as hard as everyone else now, as Bradley groaned and looked at the ceiling. "I used to like it here," he said as Nat pulled both of you in for a bear hug.

And that was when the two of you were saved from being the center of attention by an even more exciting arrival.

"He's back!"

Bradley turned in time to see Bob walking in, holding Maria's hand. His cheeks were flushed pink, and his glasses were a little crooked, and Bradley could tell instantly why they were just getting to the bar now even if the aircraft carrier docked this afternoon. At least they hadn't broken up over the deployment. 

Maria shook her hand free and made a beeline toward you. "Oh my god, I can't believe you're here! When can I come see the baby?"

"Any time," you replied. "I'll be home for weeks."

She kissed your cheek before giving Bradley a quick hug, too. "I'll bring Cam with me one night. And you should come to brunch this weekend or next weekend. You can bring Rose!"

Bradley cringed a bit at the idea of his tiny daughter being around a bunch of loud, germy strangers in a restaurant. "Or... she can just stay at home with me while you enjoy yourselves," he told you and Maria.

"Sure, Roo," you replied, stroking your fingers along his cheek. "Yeah, I'll make sure I get to brunch one of these weekends."

Bradley watched you converse with Maria, and then the two of you talked to a very overwhelmed looking Bob who also asked about the baby. And Bradley swore you only sipped at your beers, but you were starting to look a little tipsy.

"You okay, Sweetheart?" he asked, trying not to laugh as you danced around completely off the beat of the music playing on the jukebox.

"Yeah," you told him, smiling over your shoulder. You were so fucking adorable, it was unbelievable. "But my boobs are starting to get uncomfy. I'm going to need some relief soon." You turned to face him as you ran your hands along your chest, and even with that sweater on, his imagination took over.

His cock was already reporting for duty as he rasped, "You want me to take you home so Rose can nurse and make you feel better?"

You kind of shrugged in response as you took a step closer to him, still touching yourself. "Well, I've been drinking alcohol, so if we go home, I'll have to pump instead and then dump it down the drain."

"Fuck," Bradley groaned as you reached for his hand and brought it up to your chest in the middle of the Hard Deck. "I don't think you should be wasting that."

You smiled and asked, "Back seat of the Bronco then?" 

When he just nodded at you like an idiot, you hooked your index finger through one of his belt loops and dragged him around, erection and all, to say goodbye to everyone. His jeans were not his friend at the moment. Not with the prospect of your tits leaking milk filling his mind. Once you had him outside, your lips were all over his.

"You make everything so much better, Bradley," you whispered against his mouth as your fingers tangled in his hair. "Literally everything."

"I love you so much. Fuck," he moaned as you cupped him through his jeans. Someone else was exiting the bar now, but he didn't have the wherewithal to tell you to stop. He didn't want you to stop. "Come on, Baby Girl," he said, ushering you to the promised solitude of the backseat.

--------------------------

You were so horny. You couldn't even fathom what was going on with your hormones that you were mostly in tears on Monday and desperate for an orgasm tonight. Straddling Bradley's lap in the back of the Bronco was nothing new for you, but you were a little concerned about the way your body looked. 

"Holy fucking hell, you're so hot," he groaned, inching your sweater up and pulling it over your head. He was looking at you like you were a million dollar lottery prize with your stretched out belly and your nursing bra. He ran his hands up your hips to your waist, and he looked you in the eye as he said, "You're stunning."

Okay. Well, he could have anything he wanted. You unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor as you ground yourself against his erection. He hissed in response before bringing his hands up to your tits and giving them a little squeeze. You were already leaking milk, and Bradley was whimpering softly as he dragged his nose along the curve of one breast and then the other before tasting you.

"Roo," you gasped. His lips and mustache were needy and rough, and you couldn't stop yourself from rubbing your pussy against him. He looked up at you as he sucked on your nipple, and you played with his hair as you asked, "Do you like this?" He nodded before teasing you with his tongue and sucking more of your breast into his mouth. "I'm so horny," you moaned.

He released you. "I want to fuck the absolute shit out of you right now. Do you have any idea?" He started kissing your other nipple as he guided your hips so you were flush against the fly of his jeans. "I want you to get yourself off, Baby Girl," he rasped. "I know you can do it."

You had no shame, head tossed back, whining his name as he wrapped his perfect lips around your other nipple and helped himself. You could feel the outline of the head of his cock through his jeans. He was hard. So hard. And he felt good against your clit. You had to be soaking through your cotton underwear and leggings, but he kept guiding your hips closer and closer.

"Do it," he coaxed softly, running his mustache along your nipple.

You were about to tell him that your body felt so different, you weren't even sure if you'd be able to get off or if it would even feel good. But the words froze in your throat as Bradley parted his lips to taste you again, and you felt yourself gush into his mouth.

"Oh my god," you whispered, maybe a little embarrassed that you had no control over your own body. His eyes went wide as he lapped up your breast milk, and you arched your back as you came on his cock through his jeans, grabbing his hair and the Bronco ceiling for control. You were shaking all over, keening loudly, convinced someone in the parking lot must have heard you by now. You didn't even care. This orgasm was insanely good, and it kept going as you panted and squirmed.

Your breasts were damp to the night air, and you knew it had to be some combination of your milk and Bradley's saliva cooling on your skin as you shivered against his body. His arms were wrapped around you as you rocked slowly before finally coming to a stop.

"Feel good?" he asked between little kisses to your chest.

"Incredible," you moaned. "Holy shit, Roo."

"Yeah," he agreed breathlessly. "Me too."

You noticed he wasn't as hard now, and you took his chin in your palm, guiding his gaze to meet yours. "Did you cum?"

"In my jeans," he confirmed with a nod. "I can't handle how fucking perfect you are." You felt powerful as you stroked his cheek with your thumb. "You literally made me cum in my pants, Sweetheart."

You gave him a soft kiss. "And you didn't even break the center console."

--------------------------------

BG is definitely struggling a little bit with her postpartum body. Roo is struggling in a different way. There's a lot on the horizon, including angst, but if there's something you'd love to read about this family, let me know! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[matryosika]

through the blinds

pairing — hyunjin x reader

genre — smut 18+

word count — 5.6 k

warnings — dom!hyunjin, sort of perv!hyunjin, slight blackmailing, voyeurism, exhibitionism, use of toys, slight humiliation, oral (m.), unprotected sex, creampie

notes — it's 4 a.m. and this took so long for me to write it, i don't know why. if there are any grammar mistakes i will fix them as soon as possible! please keep in mind that english is not my first language.

hyunjin always struck you as a hypocrite.

it didn't matter how attractive he was or how many times you found yourself thinking about him maybe a little bit too much, you never trusted his personality to be truthfully real.

"there must be something going on with him," you told eunji, the other human resources intern at the legal department, "i am not buying his whole act".

"you know, not everyone is obligated to like you" she teased, drinking from her ice coffeed while both pair of eyes fixed on the small spaces between the blinds on hyunjin's office, "some people... you just don't vibe with them".

"it doesn't make any sense though," you complained, biting your snack, "he has treated me that way ever since i got here. i mean, i would've understood if i did something to piss him off or something, but that never happened".

"maybe he is just trying to remain professional," eunji explained, "see, the man is smart. he wouldn't be too fond of his boss finding about him hanging out with his precious daughter."

"still-" you mumbled, stopping mid sentence to drink from your cup, "he could be nice to me but all he does is avoid any kind of interaction between the both of us. not even a hello, good morning y/n or a hey, y/n, you are doing a great job!".

"hey, y/n, you are doing a great job" eunji praised with the same intonation you did, earning a soft laugh out of you.

"anyways-," you sighed, standing up from the couch on her office and walking towards the glass door, "whatever it is he has against me, that does not take away his attractiveness".

she gave you a teasing smile and you gave her one back, walking along the floor's hallway back into your office. much to your surprise, you found a pile of beige folders on top of your desk that you didn't recall putting there.

a yellow post-it was glued to the first one, and it read "i need you to fill these vacancy reports for tonight".

you rolled your eyes back, knowing who the author of the note was. it was almost childish, knowing how hyunjin would do anything to avoid you 75% of the time. the other 25 percent, he would act distant and cold as if you were the most despicable woman on earth and you couldn't really understand why.

you sat down on your office chair, acknowledging the amount of work you had to get done that day, and you resigned yourself to spending your friday afternoon at the office until late.

[dad, 20:13 p.m.]

i'm going back to the house, do you need a ride?

you sighed in frustration, realizing the amount of work you still had left. to be bluntly honest, this time hyunjin exceeded the workload he assigned you but, when you tried to look for him, he was nowhere to be found around the company.

[y/n, 20:14 p.m.]

wait for me.

fuck him, you thought to yourself while organizing all the paper sheets on their respective folders and picking up your bag from the floor. you had never failed him once so it was only fair for you to be able to back down on work tonight.

you hadn't realized how late it was until you stood a foot outside your office, looking at the dark and empty floor you were now standing. usually, the rest of the interns would leave the building at around 5 p.m. while the rest of the people stayed there up until 7. however, this being a friday night, it made a lot of sense that the building was completely empty by then.

you closed the glass door behind you and walked through the eerie hallway holding the beige folders against your chest, the overwhelming sensation of witnessing a bustling environment completely dead distracting you from the fact that you weren't precisely alone.

a very dim light escaping through the blinds of hyunjin's office made you snap out of your trail of thoughts. was he there? did he leave them on by accident?

there was not much you could see through the small spaces between the curtains and, even though you would normally knock beforehand, the door was slightly opened.

"i am sure he left them on by accident" you thought to yourself, one of your palms slightly pushing the black, cold door.

you soon found yourself feeling nervous at the realization of even walking inside his office, specially when he wasn't there in the first place, but the curiosity was bigger than any other negative feeling you might've had right then and there.

holding your breath and trying to move as smooth as possible, your whole body leaned into the cold room as you took enough courage to walk inside it, turn off the lights and get out of it as if nothing had happened.

however, a sudden sound made you stop in your tracks.

"fuck" a soft groan escaped his lips, your heart beating at a thousand miles per hour while you felt some sort of nervewrecking tension along your whole body.

the following sounds you could recognize them well. soft noises of skin hitting skin followed by a series of curses under his breath made you squeeze your thighs together, leaving absolutely everything to your wild imagination that was already fucked out in both confusion and excitement.

you wanted to witness the scene, but you didn't know how far you could walk into the small hallway of his office before being spotted by him so, as much as your perverted mind wanted to fulfill its dirty fantasies, you stood there in silence, waiting for your whole body to react.

nonetheless, as you waited, it was another word falling from his lips that made you stand completely still on your place.

"y/n" his silky voice grunted over and over again, your name being almost inaudible but, due to the rush of adrenaline, all of your senses were completely enhanced.

only then, your inhibitions and moral codes were completely swept under the rug, the curiosity winning by far this battle. you walked towards the end of the small hallway, expecting to see him sitting down with both of his legs spreaded and his cock out.

but, much to your surprise, he didn't even caught you looking. his whole figure was facing towards the bookshelf behind his office chair and not to the door, earning you a decent amount of time for you to keep on watching his little scene.

your eyes focused on the frantic movements of his right hand, stroking himself at a rather fast pace while his head fell back every once in a while, his dark, short hair moving smothly each time his head did the same thing. due to the position he was in, there was not much you could see other than his back and arms, but it was more than enough to get you completely riled up.

"fuck" another whimper escaped his lips only, this time, it felt 10 times louder, just as if he wanted to be heard. his head fell down, burying itself on something he had been holding against his chest with his left hand.

something you thought had lost last week, after a meeting.

he was hugging your beige cardigan tightly against him, his nose buried deep in your scent while he inhaled it over and over again. the movements of his right arm were starting to get messier and faster, the lewd noises escaping out of his beautiful lips were coming out more frequently and the way his shoulders moved up and down at a frantic pace only indicated that he was close.

so close to cumming thinking about you.

so close to that sweet relief of the tension he struggled with daily by knowing he couldn't have you.

so close, yet drifted away far from it as soon as the buzzing sound of a cellphone caught him off guard.

a sound that didn't belong to his cellphone nor his office phone. a sound he recognized well, because he had imprinted it in his mind every time he walked by your office.

"how long have you been standing there?" his raspy voice queried, not turning around to face you but not moving a single inch of his body either.

the upbeat ringtone of your phone continued on playing while you swallowed hard, thinking about running away and leaving hyunjin behind.

but a part of you was not down to do so. a part of you was begging for you to move forward with the situation, seeing how far he was willing to go just to have you all for himself.

"i asked you a question" the coldness in his tone made you squirm in your place, "at least be decent enough to answer it".

"what do you know about decency," you scoffed, hanging up on the person calling and putting your cellphone inside of your bag, "when you have that going on."

you couldn't catch a glimpse of his facial features but, by the small noise his breathing made, you could only assume he was smirking at you.

"you have to be kidding me," you ranted, still not being able to move from the place you had been occupying the last 5 minutes, "jerking to the thought of me when you can't even speak to me at work".

"how long have you been standing there?" he queried once again, determined to get an answer from you.

"a while" you limited to inform, your eyes glued to every movement he made, from leaving your cardigan near the bookshelf to fixing his clothes, "i heard you calling my name, if that's what you are curious about".

hyunjin's head fell sligthly down to his chest, letting out a sigh of despair and frustration.

"why don't we make a deal?" he requested, turning around to face you for the very first time that night.

his cheeks were slightly blushed, strands of his dark hair were coated in sweat and his lips were a bit swollen. that sight alone was everything you needed to make up your mind about what you truly wanted.

"what kind of deal?" you questioned him.

"less work in exchange of you being quiet about this" he proposed, leaning on his desk while both of his pale hands gripped the edge of it.

"i have a better one" you teased, slightly tilting your head, "you give me what i want and i'll keep quiet about this".

hyunjin's gaze landed on you, the mixture between curiosity and hostility imprinted on his facial features while he pondered his next move.

"what is it that you want?" he queried again.

"you" you bluntly answered, earning a soft scoff from him.

"there's a reason behind me jerking off to the thought of you but not being able to do anything about it" he spoke, the corner of his lips rising in a mocking smile, "i am sure you are smart enough to connect the dots".

"that's why i want you" you pouted, giving him a spoiled smirk, "isn't that more fun?"

"i am not putting my job at risk for you" he shook his head.

"you are putting it at risk anyways" you explained to him, relaxing your figure, "if you don't give me what i want, i'll tell everyone about your little act".

"i am not playing one of your games, y/n" he harshly added, his body tensing up as he realized how deep into the problem he was.

"if you refuse to play, you lose by default".

"it took me a lot of effort to get where i am" he continued on ranting, his words saying one thing but his gaze and painfully hardened bulge between his legs telling another story.

"you should've thought about it before jerking off in your office thinking about your bosses daughter" you insisted, a devilish grin plastered in your face as soon as you realized he was completely cornered and at your mercy.

he stood there in silence for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on you while his tongue poked out slightly from his right cheek.

"this is hilarious" you continued on ranting as his silence extended, "how many times have you masturbated while smelling my cardigan? 10 times? 20 times?"

you knew what you were doing.

"you carry yourself with such pride around here and i'm only finding out that you are nothing but a pathetic coward," by the way hyunjin's fists clenched and his jaw tensed, along with the built-up frustration of being caught, you knew he was on the brink of snapping, "i am just giving you the opportunity to fulfill your perversions and yet you can't take it because you don't have the balls to do so".

hyunjin stormed from his place and walked towards you, cornering you between his body and the wall behind you.

"you don't get to set the rules" he hissed, tilting his head while his eyes scanned the fear in your facial features, "if that's what you want, then we are going to do it my way".

a faint, victorious smile appeared on your lips. "it wasn't that hard to give yourself in, was it?" you softly cooed, your breathing accelerated as you felt his body against yours.

"by the time i am done with you," hyunjin groaned, the tip of his digits grazing along your naked arms without actually touching you fully, "you are going to regret ever making that deal".

"you are acting so bold for someone that can't even speak to me in public" you weakly teased him, feeling the tension on your core as soon as you felt hyunjin's knee parting your legs.

he only limited himself to scoff at your comment, without contradicting or agreeing with your statement.

"we have a congress tomorrow at the conrad hotel, don't we?" he spoke, his eyes fixed on your lips. he leaned on to kiss you, but only allowed himself to brush your lips against yours without actually devouring them, "i hope it goes well for you, y/n".

you stormed into the office looking for a few papers before driving to the conrad, spotting a black box decorated with a red ribbon on top of your desk that caught your whole attention.

"what is this?" you whispered to yourself, grabbing the folder you needed along with the yellow post it on top of the box.

"make sure to wear this for the event and stay close to me" were the words written on the piece of paper, immediately recognizing who the author was.

you opened it as fast as you could, not expecting what to find inside of it.

and let's just say, you were extremely surprised.

a smile escaped through your lips while you kept the box inside of your bag, carrying the folder you needed and walking as fast as you could to your father's car.

"you got the paperwork you needed?" he questioned, his severe gaze confused at your flustered self.

"mhm" you hummed, holding your bag tightly against your body while your mind began to review all the possible scenarios behind hyunjin's gift to you.

the rest of the trip was spent in silence, your father rehearsing his opening speech while you thought about hyunjin.

as soon as you got to the lobby of the hotel, and before walking into the conference hall, you ran into the nearest restroom to fulfill hyunjin's request.

you pulled your panties up, adjusting the toy inside you, and pulled your tight dress down, making sure that everything stayed right in its place as you walked away from the bathroom stall.

the conference room was already too crowded and your eyes toured around it looking for the tall, short-haired man you were supposed to meet with.

[18:57 p.m., hyunjin]

fourth row.

you accelerated your steps to meet with him, sitting with both of his legs spreaded and his body slightly leaned on to the front. only then, when you saw him looking back at you, you felt nervous for the first time that evening.

all the seats were already occupied except for the one next to his right and seeing just how crowded the place was only made you feel vulnerable.

"your father it's about to start the conference" hyunjin's silky voice mumbled, your eyes traveling all the way to his right arm recalling the incidents of the night before, "you might want to pay attention".

you licked your lips in agitation, feeling your warm walls clenching around the toy inside you every time hyunjin's body moved even the slightest bit next to you.

the first few minutes of the event passed by quickly, your father welcoming the people who attended it and inviting him to stick around the set of conferences that were going to be held at the lobby hotel for the next three days.

however, hell unleashed as time progressed.

a buzzing movement was felt inside your cunt, your hips involuntarily moving at the sudden sensation. you turned to face hyunjin with a sneaky movement, your eyes darting over to his cellphone.

but he remained still. both eyes paying attention at the front without even looking at you, his fingers sliding against the screen while controling the toy inside you.

"god" you sighed, trying to maintain your composure while you glanced over to your right side to make sure the man sitting next to you wasn't suspecting anything.

you tried to close your legs, but that only intensified the sensations of the vibrator inside your cunt. your leg started fidgeting against the floor as hyunjin increased the velocity of the vibrations, eyeing you every once in a while just to make sure you weren't making a fool of yourself.

"is that too much?" he softly cooed, only leaning to the side.

you shook your head softly, biting your lower lip while you tried to keep your half-lidded eyes fully opened. he returned back to his initial position, gaze fixed at the front while his knee grazed against yours.

only this time, he increased the vibrations of the toy at a much faster rythm than before, making your whole body squirm unexpectedly on your seat.

"fuck, i'm sorry" you awkwardly mumbled to the man sitting next to you after moving so roughly. both of your hands grasped to the purse sitting on your lap, your vision clouded with the arousal and embarrassment of doing such filthy acts in public.

nonetheless, hyunjin was enjoying the sight. his proud smirk grew bigger every time your hand landed on his thigh, slightly pinching him due to the overwhelming sensations you were starting to feel.

"do you want me to keep on going?" he whispered into your ear, his warm breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine, "or have i already proved to you that i am far from being a coward?"

your eyes rolled to the back of your head at his silky voice, closing them shut to prevent anyone from seeing the grimaces of pleasure imprinted on your face.

"i am so close" you whimpered into hyunjin's ear, no longer caring if someone discovered the filthy show you were putting on right there with him.

hyunjin's digit slided against his phone screen once again, providing you with even more sensations on your throbbing cunt. you squeezed your thighs instinctively, intensifiying each of the sensations.

"look at me" he whispered once again, making you turn your head towards him and getting lost in his lustful gaze, "go on now."

and as hard as you tried to control yourself, you couldnt. your whole body tensed up and your breath got caught up on your throat, not allowing you to make any noise nor movement as you approached your high.

hyunjin offered you a conceited smirk, the tip of his tongue grazing against his teeth while he returned his eyes back to the man talking at the podium, leaving you a wet and mindless mess on your seat.

"9th. floor, room 92" he mumbled softly, standing up from his seat as the first conference came to an end, "don't make me wait".

as the whole crowd applauded and cheered for the man who hosted the first talk, you found the perfect time to sneak out of the lobby and into the hotel.

for an odd reason, knowing that hyunjin was doing all of that in front of the people who he feared the most finding about this only turned you on even more. he was a very analytical man but when it was about you, he just couldn't control himself.

it took him so long for him to be able to even look at you without feeling the need to fuck you senseless and make you a mindless mess for him, but you crashed all that effort the minute you decided to enter his office the night before.

and now that the inhibitions had been already thrown out, he had no problem into giving in his darkest desires.

once you entered the hotel room, hyunjin's figure was quick to appear in front of your eyes, pouring himself a glass of water before turning to face you.

"you had fun?" he queried while the corners of his lips rised into a smirk, "that's what bigmouthed girls like you get".

"so i'm guessing you are hurt because of the things i said last night" you mumbled.

"why would i get upset over lies?" he asked again, tilting his head and leaving the glass of water behind. his body approached you slowly, both of his hands traveling to each sides of your waist, "you called me pathetic yet i just made you cum in front of a hundred people without even having to touch you".

the blood under your skin boiled as soon as you heard those words, your walls clenching around the toy almost instinctively and letting a small whimper escape your lips.

his lips approached yours, softly brushing against them while your whole body anticipated his kiss.

"you said you want me, didn't you?" he questioned, his hot breath caressing your chin and making you even more desperate for him than you already were, "now you have to take everything i'll give you".

he finally crashed into you for a kiss, the desperate and sloppy movements making your cunt clench harder around the vibrator, earning small gasps and cries out of you each time you felt it inside you.

"please, just fuck me already" you panted in between kisses, the fucked out look on your face making hyunjin's cock twitch inside of his pants.

"i've fantasized about youbevery single night since the day i met you," he cooed softly, nipping at the skin of your jawline while touring along your neck, "let me at least take my time with you, precious".

you rolled your head back as hyunjin dragged his wet lips along the crook of your neck, holding your whole body tightly against him.

"is that why you acted so distant with me?" you queried in between sighs, your hand lost in his dark hair.

"you have no idea how bad i had to control myself each time you were near me" he groaned, his soft voice turning deeper as he continued on touching you, "everytime you talked or even looked at me, the rage of knowing that i couldn't have you for myself just made me lose all my senses".

"i don't mean to interfere between you and your position at the company" you whined while he nipped at the skin on your neck, "if you treat me well, i'll keep quiet and be a pretty fucktoy only for you".

he smiled against your skin, his digits pulling down the straps on your dress, "is that what you want to be for me?" he inquired, "do you want to be my personal slut?"

you licked your lips at his words, feeling a spark of lust igniting in your soul as soon as hyunjin's eyes fixed on your nude breasts.

"i want you to use me as you please" you spoke, your nipples hardening under his touch, "i'll be good".

"i know you will be good" he grunted, his digits brushing against your nipples and making your whole body tremble, "you don't seem like the type who enjoys punishments, do you?"

you shook your head slightly.

"if you are good, i'm going to treat you well" he replied, leaning into your body to kiss your chest and breasts, "and you have been good tonight, haven't you?"

"mhm" you hummed, buring your hand on his hair once again, pulling him forward into your body.

his hands dragged the rest of the dress off of your legs, leaving you with nothing but your ruined panties and the toy still inside you, "get on your knees".

you did as you were told, moaning once you felt the toy going even deeper inside your warm hole due to the position you were now in.,

"can't you see what you do to me, y/n?" his raspy voice questioned you, one of his hands unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants just in front of your eyes, "you always have me so hard and desperate to bury my cock inside you".

you automatically sticked your tongue out as soon as he exposed his length, your mouth watering at the sight of his hardened bulge. he undressed himself for you, getting off of his black pants and white shirt.

"make that mouth useful for me, will you?" he groaned, one of his hands pushing your head over his cock while you failed to take him in completely.

"it is so big" you cried, coughing and drooling over it while you tried to take it all in.

"come on, precious, get used to it" he mumbled, his hands caressing your hair, "so that the next time it will be easier for you to suck me off properly".

next time.

feeling the excitement of an unspoken promise, you did your best taking him. it only took you a few minutes for your mouth and throat to get used to the stretch, bopping your head up and down on it as if you were nothing but an inflatable doll for him.

"good girl" he praised, his gaze fixed on the way your teary eyes looked up to him, "i bet you had thought about sucking my cock before, haven't you?"

you nodded almost desperately, drooling all over his cock and your breasts.

"do you want to know something?" he inquired, his hand pushing back the strands of hair that were getting on your face, "you have no idea how many times i had to jerk myself off at work".

his available hand reached out for his cellphone that was on top of the hotel bed, and opened the already familiar application he had been using during the past hour.

"every time i saw you wearing those cute dresses or tight skirts, i couldn't control myself", his digits slided against the screen, turning on the setting of the toy once again, making you moan all over his length, "each day i sat down at my office thinking about bending you over my desk, all naked and ready for me to fuck".

"fuck, hyunjin" you whined, taking out his glistening cock from your mouth and stroking him with one hand while the other rubbed your clit in circular motions, "faster, please".

"you are so needy, y/n" he groaned, his cock twitching under your care, "you just cummed a few minutes ago and now you want to cum again?"

you nodded desperately, feeling how your juices soaked your underwear and the knot on your lower abdomen threaten to come undone.

"stand up" he commanded, your weak legs only doing much. hyunjin set up the vibrations at the highest pace, making you almost impossible to complete such task, "if you want me to fuck you that bad, then stand up".

you bit your lower lip in exasperation, closing your eyes and doing your best to stand up while both of your legs were completely weak due to the overwhelming sensations.

"don't cum yet" he added, sitting at the edge of the bed with his legs spreaded, "stand up and come right here".

after a few seconds, you managed to stand in both of your feet with trembling legs and glistening thighs.

"take off your panties" he demanded, you following his order as fast as you could while you fought back your high.

"i can't hold it, hyunjin" you whimpered, squeezing your thighs together as if that single movement was going to stop the nerve-wrecking orgasm that was approaching you.

however, the vibrations stopped all of the sudden.

"if you want to cum again, you are going to do it on my cock" he mumbled with a cocky smirk plastered on his lips.

you removed the toy from inside your cunt and sat down with your legs on each side of his body, aligning his hardened cock with your entrance.

"you said you wanted me," he groaned, feeling your juices coating him, "now prove me how bad you do".

you let out a deep sigh as soon as you felt his cock stretching all of your walls, both of your arms traveling instantly to his shoulders and locking themselves on his nape.

"they must be waiting for you downstairs" he teased, his arms locking around your waist while gripping your ass, "i suggest you do it fast, unless you want them to notice that you skipped the whole conference just to have sex with your co-worker".

your head fell back as you started to ride him, your hips moving mercilessly against his while a series of whines and cries left your lips each time his cock grazed that sweet spot inside your cunt.

"you are not doing it fast enough" he complained, his hands guiding your movements on top of him, "are you already too fucked out to even fuck yourself with my cock properly?"

"shut up" you whined, closing your eyes and bouncing on his length over and over again.

"do you want me to do it for you?" he queried in between groans, his hands gripping and spanking your ass cheeks earning small gasps out of you, "do you want me to bend you on the bed and bury my cock deep inside your wet hole?"

you closed your eyes and continued on riding him with sloppy movements, determined to prove to him that you were capable of making yourself cum on your own.

"just beg nicely" he proposed, "and i might fuck the blackmailer out of you".

"fuck, hyunjin-" you gasped, feeling how his hips acquire their own pace while they slammed inside you.

"beg, y/n" his deep voice mumbled.

"please-" you whispered softly, moving your hips in circular motions, "just make me cum again".

"you are not convincing me".

"hyunjin, i am so close" you cried once again, your walls clenching around him almost aggresively while your sore thighs lose their rythm, "i can't keep on going just please- fuck me".

hyunjin let out a deep scoff while he saw you struggling to get off on his cock, both of his arms holding you thight while he exchanged positions and threw you onto the bed, laying you on your stomach.

"next time you even dare to think you have any kind of control over me," he groaned, slamming his cock inside you without a previous warning while he spreaded both of your legs even more for him, "just remember that i was the one who had you begging for some seconds of pleasure".

you buried your head into the mattress, arching your back more for him while he continued on fucking your wet hole.

"i'm cumming" you screamed, both of your hands grasping onto the white bed sheets while you tried your best to maintain your posture, "hyunjin, please-"

"go on," he panted, grinding his teeth while he pushed down your lower back, "make a mess on my cock".

it took him only a few more seconds before having your whole body shaking under his care, your juices dripping out of you and making a mess on him and the bed.

"look at you," he groaned, harshly gripping your hair without giving you any time to overcome your overwhelming orgasm, "look at all the mess you made".

his movements became faster and sloppier, the sinful noises escaping his lips became more frequent and, by recalling the events of last night, you realized that he wasn't far from his orgasm as well.

"fuck- hyunijn" you cried, the overstimulation making you tremble in pain, "don't stop, don't stop-"

"you owe me an orgasm" he grunted, pulling your hair and slamming his length inside your pussy, "where do you want it?"

"inside-" you whined in between broken moans, "cum inside my cunt, please".

hyunjin let out a deep sigh at your words, decreasing his movements as soon as he felt the orgasm washing up on him.

"aren't you such a nice fucktoy" he panted, bucking his hips harder, "letting me fill you up with my cum".

you moaned one last time before feeling his hot arousal leaking out of your soaking hole, dripping onto the bedsheets and your legs. hyunjin dragged his finger along your slit, coating it with both of your orgasms while approaching your face that was buried deep into the mattress.

"next time we fuck," he commanded, placing both fingers against your swollen lips, "i am cumming inside that pretty mouth of yours, just to see if you still want to keep on calling me a pathetic coward, precious".

[imaginaryari]

Part 1:

The interrogation room is quiet unlike every other part of the prison. Not even at night are the cells truly silent. A way of torturing her kind. She prefers it in these rooms even though it’s never good that she gets dragged to one. For once, she can hear herself think. Remember. For a few brief minutes everything is fine. She focuses on a strand of her silver hair that’s fallen into her face. She thinks about her family, how they must have grown, why she’s even in here-

The prisoner looks up as her least favorite cop stomps into the interrogation room and drags the opposite chair out, effectively ruining her moment of serenity. He clears his throat disgustingly. Officer Warren is 6ft, broad shouldered military type from the square jaw and maintained beard on his aged face down to his standard issued boots he’s used too many times to subdue someone. He has awards for rounding up the enhanced, people like Silver. He walks and talks like a man the people respect and fear. Talks to the enhanced like they’re close on first name bases and revels in the fact that he put them in their cells. What she would give to lay one finger on him. That’s all she needs. Unfortunately, her hands are gloved and bound because officer Warren also knows that. 

“Silver! It is always nice to see you here.” Warren’s voice booms through the formerly quiet room.

“To what do I owe the pleasure Warren?” She asks with mock sincerity. She copies his tone to the best of her ability hoping he realizes how stupid he sounds. There’s seldom people in the world she hates more than this man.

He scoffs but then offers a smug grin. “How would you like to get out here?”

It’s a trap. Silver knows this. The enhanced don’t get second chances, especially not from officer Warren. 

 “Wasn’t I supposed to ‘rot in here?” Silver asks. She could never forget; he wanted her family and she refused to give them up. It’s one of the few wins against this man in her mind. 

Officer Warren gives her another grin that makes her nauseous. “I thought you would be interested in parole but if you aren’t…there’s plenty of other enhanced in here.”

The promise of seeing the outside world again would sway anyone. It’s been almost 5 years. Her family is still waiting for her somewhere out there; she has to believe this. They might still need her, hell, she needs them. There isn’t much point in living if they aren’t safe. 

“How can I trust you?” She asks but it's stated like a fact everyone knows. He can’t be trusted.

Officer Warren beckons one of the guards. Silver recognizes this one and levels him with a glare. “Williams, remove her cuffs.”

“Sir?” The guard says confused and unsure, looking back and forth between Warren and Silver. He always does what Warren asks but Silver knows even after all these years he’s still scared of the prisoners. It should make him awful at his job but just makes him quick to subdue and restrain. That’s why he's always in these interrogations. 

“Now, please.” Warren orders, angry that someone would even question his authority. The guard hesitantly approaches SIlver, scared of her and what she can do but more afraid of what Warren will do if he disobeys. She resists the urge to mess with him, knowing he should absolutely be more afraid of her than the powerless officer. With practiced ease and muscle memory he opens the cuffs.

Silver immediately rubs her wrists when the cuffs click open. The relief is almost overwhelming. She quickly reminds herself not to do anything stupid, no matter how satisfying it would be to knock Warren’s lights out.

“Shall we?” Officer Warren says cheerfully, standing and gesturing towards the interrogation door like the gentleman he’s not. 

–

It’s a maze of hallways to get out of the prison. Purposely designed as such to make escaping harder. Aside from the underlying buzzing noise she can never identify, clouding her thoughts, some of the hallways are unlit and pitch black. Yet, Warren and guards never hesitate as they escort her out. Silver loses count of the endless gray walls and cells and turns they make towards the exit. Some prisoners congratulate her as they pass. Some sneer, knowing that the only way out of here is either to make a deal, and fill your empty cell with someone else. 

Silver has never pretended to be anything but self-serving and doesn’t make eye contact with any of them

“There’s a group of enhanced kids going around and robbing people. Messing with their heads. You’re fond of doing that so I thought this would be the perfect way to end your sentence.” Warren says as he escorts her out. 

Silver squints. Nothing about that story adds up. Robbing civilians, while common, isn’t a team effort especially if you can mess with minds and memory. Years of having her enhancement has taught her it’s very easy to leave them dazed, similar to when you enter a room and forget why. Or lose an item you just put down.  A group would actually draw more attention and a tight knit one wouldn’t take the risk of losing a member to officials. 

Unless your Silver’s ex. Hm. Things are starting to make sense. 

“You’ve tried to catch them before.” Silver states. 

Warren doesn’t even look ashamed admitting his failure. “Physical powers are one thing. Mental ones are harder. But from my experience you can catch ‘em with a little trust.” He begins to walk away, leaving Silver at the gates. “You have three weeks. I need their abilities, call names, and base of operations” He leaves her with an address to a place to stay and doesn’t even have the decency to call her cab. Silver sucks her teeth and tries to find change for the bus. 

—

It’s no fancy hotel, barely a motel, but it’s a place and it’s furnished. Officer Warren had said it was hers for as long as it took her to finish her task. Silver won’t complain; before she was arrested, she was constantly couch surfing- never out staying her welcome and never spending too long on the streets. She had made friends this way but contacting them was out of the question. Getting caught means getting blacklisted. A means of protecting themselves.  Silver is effectively cut off from anyone that might have helped her in the past, and they might warn others that she was taken in. There’s always the chance someone threatened with jail will turn in anyone else. In fact, a lot of the people Silver met over the last 5 years were laying low, only discovered because of a successful interrogation. Even though Silver had bit her tongue ‘til it bled it’s safer amongst the enhanced to assume snitch and apologize later.  Well, Silver had been thrown under the bus. It was either her or her family and she wouldn’t ever-

Semantics. She won’t see them again in the near future and hopefully they’re doing okay. Silver shakes her head, never mind that. She has a job to do and extraordinarily little to go on. 

-

The neighborhood is different. She didn’t expect it to be quite the same after lock-up but the changes are more than jarring. New buildings going up, less of the spots her old friends used to hang. There was an empty lot that used to hold flea markets every weekend. Great for the enhanced who weren’t welcomed in stores.  It's a parking lot for a strip mall now. All the small deli’s are gone, replaced with upstanding grocers with their overpriced organic produce. Silver is so sure the neighborhood has been purged of the enhanced until she decides to hit up one of the cafés. She stares at it; upset she can’t remember what it used to be and then enters reading the weirdly named drinks on the menu. What the hell was a strawberry starlight? Mocha madness?

“Are you new around here?” another patron asks.

“Not exactly,” Silver says with a shrug, eyeing the stranger. He’s handsome, hair in short braids he’s tied up and out of his face leaving one rebellious one to frame it. He looks like he should have taken a sip of his drink before speaking. The bags under his eyes scream exhaustion but he still sounds awake. And happy about it. “It’s just been a while since I’ve been ‘round here.”

“Ah, try the mint hot chocolate. It’s a crowd favorite.”

“Is that what you’re having?”

He chuckles. “No…this is way too caffeinated for the masses.” Silver chuckles at his use of “the masses.” It makes a little sense, the bags under his eyes and the loaded drink. 

“The masses?” Silver asks.

“Yeah, dulls.” He practically whispers. Silver hasn’t heard that term for civvies in years. He’s very bold to use it with her and Silver wonder’s if she’s obvious or if he’s just observant. 

“Is the inevitable crash worth it?” She asks, glancing at his drink.

“Always.” He says as Silver is called next to order. “See you around.” The stranger says exiting the shop. She thinks about the encounter for hours afterwards. The enhanced were still around even if they were muted.

—

She finds what she’s looking for the next day, right before the sun sets. It’s a large tent with black and white stripes set up in a nearby park. Big enough to draw attention but lacking the actual necessities to pass as a real circus. No animal trailers, no confection stands. There is however a ticket booth where viewers are lined up to get inside. The woman in the booth has black lipstick lining a fake smile as she takes customer’s money. Silver wonder’s if this is what Warren meant by robbing. The enhanced using their gifts on civilians is illegal but these people willingly paid to see a show. 

Silver by-passes the line and ticket booth, removes her right glove, and taps a potential viewer on their shoulder.      

“You don’t really want to see this show, right? I can take that ticket off you.” The man blinks and has that familiar dazed look on his face. His mind begins to cloud and then he hands over his ticket. Silver quickly takes it, slips back on her glove, and makes her way to a seat before he comes back to his senses.

-

The tent is bigger on the inside and has lights strung along the ceiling. There’s a ring and stands that are slowly being filled by viewers. The lights go out as soon as Silver finds a seat. She stays away from the rows closest to the ring but not too far away where she would be alone and noticed.

The spotlight lowers, illuminating what has to be the ringleader. He’s barely dressed for the occasion. Top hat donned but instead of a blaring red jacket, a black T-shirt with a tuxedo print and black jeans contrasting nicely with white sneakers. 

“Hello everyone. Welcome to your wildest dreams. I’ll be your guide. Whenever you need me, you can shout `More!’” Silver snorts at the corny introduction but still applauds with the crowd. It takes a moment but she recognizes him. The man from the café with the over caffeinated drink. Interesting. So far, he’s just the host, maybe the leader of this whole operation, but Silver can’t place an ability just yet.

“Please give a round of applause to our first act, Mirage, master of illusion.”

Smoke begins to flood the stage effectively hiding More. There’s a flash of light before the smoke clears in the center of the ring. More is gone, and someone new stands in his place. The audience claps in awe as Mirage waves. He lacks More’s height and has a baby face. Instead of the braids, he has tight coils with a fresh fade.  He’s just as underdressed as More, even has the same white sneakers,  but at least has a pinstripe blazer over a white t-shirt and jeans. 

Silver is willing to bet he’s the one responsible for the tent. His set isn’t too extravagant; he just has smoke and card tricks. Shifting the smoke to look like a bird that soars over the crowd. It lands ever so gently on the empty seat in front of one of the viewers. The spotlight shifts to them, a young boy, and he offers a nervous smile, not prepared for the attention. The guest looks at Mirage who gives a cocky smile. “Blow it away.” He instructs through his stage mic. With a shrug he does. The smoke dissipates to reveal a real bird– a stark white dove. The young boy reaches for it,  his face lit up in wonder, but it takes off landing right on Mirage's shoulder. He pets it to prove it’s real and the dove seems to love it. However, it then dissipates into smoke after Mirage blows on it. That confirms it for Silver, the dude simply makes illusions. One down.

“I need a volunteer for my next trick.” Mirage says, his voice booming throughout the tent. Many viewers wave their hands and yell to gain his attention. 

Mirage and More look around at the audience and More locks eyes with Silver. There’s a connection, a shock of understanding, and something else she can’t quite place before he says, “You, cutie with the hood. Would you like to help Mirage?”

Silver nods, unable to break eye contact.

“Don’t be nervous, it’s just a simple card trick.” Mirage pulls a deck of cards from his pockets and flicks a few cards into the air, catching them with the deck. Silver keeps her head down and her hood on as she walks into the ring. She wasn’t supposed to draw attention to herself. More finally backs away, once again giving Mirage the stage.

It is a simple card trick, with a lot of flourish. Silver selects a card, memorizes it, puts it back in the deck. 2 of clubs. Mirage is skilled making the cards seem to dance, shuffling and tossing them even pulling some from behind Silver.  She can’t help but laugh and shake her head as he ends each trick with some form of “this isn’t your card, right? Wait, hold on, I got it.” The audience loves it laughing along with Silver. He finally tosses all of the cards up in fake frustration and catches one in between two fingers.

“Is this your card?” He says with a self assured smile. It is the 2 of clubs, however, now that she’s close up and knows his ability the effect on her starts to wane. The 2 in the corner starts to fade and change-

“It sure looks like it!” Silver says, playing up her amazement and the audience applauds. Her choice in words doesn't go unnoticed by Mirage. He smiles, like he just learned a juicy secret, and gestures for Silver to return to her seat with a gleeful “thank you!”.

More passes her on his way back to the stage and gives her a smile similar to Mirage’s. She can’t help but feel she shouldn’t have done that. The enhanced who mess with minds are less effective using their ability on others. Revealing herself to them would maybe get her in their good graces, but she probably wouldn’t be able to use hers on them if the time came. Well they don’t know your ability yet.

“Our next act goes by Charlie. He doesn’t say much but he’s loads of fun!” More’s voice booms throughout the tent.

Silver immediately understands how the next act earned his name. Charlie dances out, encompassing Chaplin’s energy. He dons a similar top hat to More, and shirt except his is white instead. More comments on this with a laugh. “Clearly one of us has to change!” As corny as Silver finds More, she can’t say she’s not amused. Charlie looks More up and down, and then gets into a stance. He’s posed like a batter on home base and leans back and forth on his toes. He swings and More ducks, his top hat flying across the ring as if a real bat had hit it. The trick earns them impressed gasps and amused giggles from the audience. From Silver it earns a disbelieving stare. She’s never seen an enhanced like Charlie yet.

     Charlie continues his set like any traditional mime– tripping over objects that aren’t there, pushing invisible walls, overexaggerating his facial expressions. Except Silver thinks, knows, he isn’t faking anything. There is a wall the audience can’t see. He’s manifesting invisible objects. 

“Give it up for Charlie everyone!” More says shaking Silver from her thoughts. Charlie leaves the stage with the same comedic swagger and a wave.

“Now our next act is unfortunately our last. But we always go out with a bang! Please welcome to the ring, Star!”

With the snap of More’s fingers the lights go out. Another snap and they’re back, along with a woman sitting on a trapeze. It could be the lighting, or the slight shimmer she has, but she’s extremely captivating. Her hair is pulled into two puffs and her smile dazzles the audience. Silver is shocked that there is no apparent netting beneath her.

The music starts, a haunting melody punctuated by a bass that Silver feels in her chest. Star is flying above the audience on her trapeze. She hangs by her legs and lets her arms hang. If Silver focuses, she can see what looks like dust, her charisma spills off of her, entrancing the audience. 

Silver almost misses the end of Star’s performance. Star’s trapeze returns to the ring and she waves before letting go and falling to the ground. The audience gasps, bracing for an impact that never comes. Star vanishes in a puff of smoke that settles all over the ring. The audience stutters out an applause, both impressed and worried.

When the smoke clears the applause picks back up as all the performers are safe, in the center of the ring taking their bows.

“Thank you all for coming!” More says. The lights go out leaving the audience in pitch darkness. When the lights come back up, the group is gone. Well, that’s one way to end things. The audience cheers and starts to exit. commenting on the amazing show as the tent empties. Silver follows behind a group of older teens out the entrance and then doubles back around the tent, looking for tonight's performers.

They find her first. “Like the show?” A voice comes up from behind Silver. Silver doesn’t jump but she is taken aback. Star’s just as dazzling up close and Silver can see how she captivates the audience. The charisma wisps around her like smoke. She’s flanked by the girl from the booth, fake smile now dropped and eyeing Silver suspiciously as she counts the money they made.

“Sure did.” Silver admits, “Wasn’t expecting to be part of it though.”

“Yeah, More can be a bit impulsive,” Star says apologetically. She steps closer to whisper. “But his guess was right! You are like us.” 

“All of you? Special?”

“Yup!” Star says with an excited nod. All of them? Even the girl from the booth?

“What gave me away?” Silver asks genuinely curious. Two days in a row she’s been clocked as enhanced. Has she lost her sense of stealth in lock up? Is she that obvious?

Star spins, sending wisps of charisma everywhere. “You didn’t immediately fall for my charm.”

Silver deadpans. “…really?”

“That and More caught you using your gift to get a ticket.” Shit. Now she does have to worry about using her ability later.

“Also caught her struggling to order at the café,” More says, rounding on them. “We should stop meeting like this. Claire, would you stop glaring?” He says to the ticket booth girl.

“She didn’t pay.” Claire says simply, not taking her eyes off Silver making her uneasy. Just what is she looking for? She hopes she isn’t a mind reader. As confident as Silver is that she can protect herself from that ability, mind readers in general, suck. They have a weird superiority complex born of knowing things they shouldn’t.

“Technically speaking someone paid,” Silver says with a shrug, “and someone got a show.”

“Take it out of my cut. If it’s bothering you that much.” More insists. Claire rolls her eyes, and Silver truly feels for her having to deal with how frivolous he seems to be. 

“Whatever,” Claire finally loses the judgmental glare but it’s replaced with a distant stare. Silver is about to ask if anything is wrong when Claire says, very cryptically, “you came with purpose.”

Well, Silver doesn’t have a response to that. 

“Claire.” More says, gently shaking her shoulder.

She blinks, shakes her head as if to clear fog from her head. “Sorry, ignore that. Nice meeting you Silver. Mirage! Charlie! The tent please!” 

Visions? A psychic? That’s just as bad as a mind reader.

“It’s already gone Claire!” Mirage yells back, his arms wildly extended to show his handiwork. Sure enough, the tent is gone like it was never there. Silver’s pissed she missed that take-down.

“Perfect! Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“I’ll see you around, right?” More questions. The rest of his little circus family already heading out

“I hope so.” Silver says, hoping she sounds genuine. I still need to know what your ability is.

-

“What did you see?” More questions later. It’s past midnight and Mirage, Charlie, and Star have crashed for the night after their extensive performances. 

“We cannot trust her,” Claire states, crossing her arms. “We’re damned if we do.”

“And if we don’t?”

“She’s damned if we don’t. A choice I can live with.”

“So, she needs help is what you’re saying.”

“Hey,” Claire stands to emphasize her point. “Nip whatever crush you have on her in the bud. I don’t like what I’m seeing.”

In More’s honest opinion, being able to see glimpses into the future has Claire living there and not the present. He’s always taken what Claire says about her cryptic visions with a grain of salt and teaspoon of sugar.

“Crush? We just met.” More says instead of agreeing.

–

It’s past midnight when Silver gets home. Before she allows herself to get comfortable, she jots down everything she learned tonight.

Fake circus. Civvies paid to see. NOT robbery.

Except it kinda is and Silver hates that. Maybe no one made the viewers pay to see magicians who are actually enhanced. 

Mirage: conjures up illusions

Charlie: manifests invisible objects

Star: charisma. Very potent

Claire: possible psychic. 85% sure

More?

Maybe she’s wrong about More being enhanced. Maybe Star lied, although Silver can’t help to believe her. More could just be the fall guy if this circus scam all goes to shit. Authorities like Warren wouldn’t keep a powerless civilian if More is one. It’s smart.

The doubt lingers. She knows what she felt.

[achingisms]

wyatt was looking at this man, who is suppose to be his father - feeling unsure on how he should feel at that moment. his gaze shifting as the sight of these two, but his mom's tears, were getting to him as his own were starting to form to brim along his waterline. melissa's cheek turned to rub gently against his shoulder before lifting her head to search malachay's gaze in return, shaking her head gently in how foolish she felt to not have went back to their house to at least look. "i left you a note, didn't it tell you who i was with?" she asked in a soft tone, moving her hand from along his upper back to rest against his cheek. her thumb soothing along his skin, offering a sad smile.

"do you remember the bauers? our neighbors?" she spoke in a soft tone, using her thumb to swipe along the tears of his that had fallen while she continued. "they had saw me come outside, i was looking for you because i heard screams outside.. mrs. bauer hurried inside and packed a suitcase for me, not really explaining too much until we got into their car.. it was so scary and i didn't know where you were, but they took us to their house in the countryside." she swallowed before finally looking to see the onlookers and she couldn't help the way her heart was racing at their sights.

it was enough for her to lean from him, moving her hand to find his and intertwining their fingers as she led him down the hallway. into the apartment and the door was shut behind them, turning to release his hand reluctantly to make sure the doors locked and then setting their son onto his feet. "we were there for a little over a year, wyatt was born there. we learned how to plant a garden in the summer and we were pretty good for a little while, until that night.." she mentioned, looking to watch wyatt rubbing their eyes with their long sleeve to wipe the tears away. wyatt was very fond of the bauers. "we.. ran through the woods, and then it was just us two for a while.. i never went near the city until i had to, but i couldn't go back to our house." she admitted with an sad smile. there was always that little fear that he was waiting for her there - lingering as an infected and she would hate to see him in such a state. "i'm just glad to see you again, to speak to you.." she yearned for him in that moment, but wanting to keep the distance to not overwhelm wyatt even more. "i.. i have told wyatt about you, there's so many stories.." she couldn't help to smile at that, looking from him to see their son smiling a bit. "mommy told me that you were helping people." wyatt mentioned, leaning against the arm of the couch while looking at malachay.

Malachay didn't want to let her go, he was afraid that if he did, then she would disappear. There was still a part of him who thought this was all a dream, that he would wake up soon and realize that he was all alone after all. He had lost hope a long time ago that this moment would ever happen, having come to terms with the fact that it would just be him in this world, entering a survival mode where nothing else but staying alive mattered. He didn't even know why he kept going, when he had nothing left to live for. But maybe this was why, that little bit of hope in the back of his mind that refused to disappear completely.

He stared down at her, studying her features for a moment. She looked exactly the same as the last time he saw her, it was like she did not age a day. She looked tired, the world they were living in definitely taking a tool on her, along with having to raise their son alone. Malachay stared at his son, not blaming him for feeling shy and sad over all the tears. He did not understand that they were happy tears. The boy resembled the both of them, a perfect mix of their features, just like he had always hoped for. He wanted to reach out to him, to touch him and to show him how much he loved him even though he had never met him before, but he held back for now, he didn't want to scare the little boy. "I know that we have never met but I'm your dad." He told him with a smile. "And I'm so very happy that I finally get to meet you."

Malachay did not care about the onlookers, those who were eyeing them curiously, wondering who he was. He had just arrived, he didn't really know anyone in the community yet, so it was normal that the new guy hugging one of their residents in such a way caught their attention. "You chose the name I suggested?" He smiled, looking down at her. He hugged her once again, rubbing her back with his hand as he placed a kiss on the side of her head. "I'm here though, and I'm not going anywhere." He paused. "I went home, but you weren't there anymore. I tried, to find you, I waited in our house for two years but you never came. I just ... I had no idea where to go, where to look." He frowned, tears streaming down his face once again.

[always-andromeda]

Congratulations on 500!! You earned it! For a request could you do prompt: “The World Ender” for Alex/Barry? There’s a lot of stories where the reader is helping him, but not really anything for the other way around!

Author's Note | this concept is actually so creative?? like wow, anon, I hadn’t actually thought of something like this too much before!! so thank you so much for the request!!

Being roommates with Alex should be simple, in theory. He's used to living small. Minimizing himself until he's barely noticeable. Call it a product of his childhood, but he usually feels the most useful when he's quiet. But he's not sure if he actually enjoys that existence. Or if he'd simply lived it for so long that it was all he knew.

This is why it really isn't easy being his roommate. Having known you for practically half his life, he's well aware of how...spirited...you can be. You live in a way that he's not used to. So far removed from how Holly had raised him to be: broken apart until he fit into any mold the world could throw at him.

He has a hard time expressing it, but in a strange way, he's grateful. Being around such a strong personality brings him out a little more. You don't overwhelm his senses. He's tuned into your energy; how you move, how you breathe, how you speak. He can't say that about many people. And you wouldn't think he'd be so analytical just from looking at him. But that's one good thing the silence gave him; his intuition.

It's how he knows something is wrong when you come through the front door and sit down on the couch. You don't say a single word to him, just stare blankly at the cooking show he'd clicked on when he got home from work.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his tone soft.

Within seconds, your cold demeanor washes away. You head falls to the back of the couch and you close your eyes, letting out a sigh that you wish could flush out your nerves.

"Pullman fired me today." you reply quickly.

Alex's heart drops to his stomach. You'd worked so hard at that job; picking up all the extra hours they gave you in hopes they would see your dedication and reward you in some way. Of course they didn't. In their eyes, you're nothing special. Just another cog in the machine that could easily be plucked and tossed to the side. The world has plenty of other cogs that will fit just fine; thank you.

Alex has always been supportive of you. Every time you vented about the stress, he did his best to listen and to offer comfort where he could. But this was a different hurt that he hadn't felt radiating off of you before. And as he searches through his mind for some way to help, he thinks of the best idea.

Wordlessly, he rises from the couch, leaving you behind only for a moment as he heads to the hallway closet. Flipping on the yellow hall light and scanning over the shelves, he searched for the right blanket. He runs his hand down the stack, feeling each texture until he gets to a large quilt. He distinctly remembers you using it one night when you and him had a movie night a while back. It's perfect.

You hear the sliding glass door leading to the backyard open and close but ignore it. A handful of minutes later you hear it again. And when you open your eyes, Alex stands beside you, nudging your shoulder with a gentle hand. "Come outside." he says simply.

Figuring he must've found another frog outside, you follow. But instead, you find yourself standing on the porch, looking out over the small patch of land that constitutes your background. Right in the center of the lawn, Alex had laid out the blanket perfectly; no wrinkles or folds in the fabric.

As he sits cross-legged on the left side of the blanket, he motions for you to join him.

You take the spot beside him, grateful that the stifling summer air has faded into a comfortable breeze. The lush green grass was all the more comfortable with the blanket placed over the top of it.

"Look," Alex points up towards the endless night sky. "Stars."

"Stars." you conclude. For a little while, your pain blows away as you lay back on the blanket, bringing your hands behind your head. You stare into the void of the universe. And, funnily enough, the memory of Pullman calling you into his office and curtly informing you that you'd been fired...it seemed so meaningless. But in the most comforting way possible. These were the moments that mattered most to your soul; not stupid job and your idiot manager.

"Does this help?" Alex mumbles.

He feels euphoric seeing you smile even a tiny bit as you answer, "Yeah. It does. Thanks, bud."

This quiet isn't the kind of quiet that the world forced him into. This is the kind of quiet that heals. The kind of quiet that makes him feel like he can exist safely and peacefully with someone. That he can be useful in a brand new way.

[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.