#maybe even tonight if i muster up the motivation. but maybe not

[eddiestightywhities]

SNIPPET SUNDAY

so there i was minding my own business working away on my s08e08 coda when BAM! charlie @playinginthunderstorms goes and drops THIS SHOW-STOPPING FIC and completely derails my efforts by inspiring me to write a completely different fic that is also a coda for s08e08 lmao. having writer friends is never, ever boring, amirite?!

anyways here's an excerpt seeing as i thought i'd get it finished tonight but didn't and need the motivation to keep going with it asfhjhsk

ps pls be kind as it's completely unedited xp

.

“Take it off.”

Buck looks up to where Eddie is standing in the door jam, big hands on slim hips and pink lips pinched.

“Huh?” he replies.

Because huh?

Eddie gives him The Look; his patented Buck look.

“Buck,” he says in the exact same way Buck just heard it in his head.

Then Eddie's eyebrows shoot up in the way Buck knows to mean you know what I mean, and although most of the time Buck knows precisely what Eddie means with just one pointed eyebrow-raise, right now he has zero clue of whatever it is Eddie is trying to tell him.

“What?” he says, his own brows asking half the question for him.

Eddie sighs, and it's kind of pained and long-suffering, which—fair.

“The hoodie, lover-boy. Take it off.”

The penny-drop is immediate.

For some reason, Buck blushes a little under Eddie's gaze—and maybe a little at his use of the weirdly alluring moniker.

Buck is wearing one of Tommy's hoodies.

He doesn't pout, but it's a close thing.

“But it's—Eds, it's the only thing I have left of him,” he protests, voice pathetically brittle and small.

Eddie's eyes go so soft you could top hot chocolate with them and cover them in squirty cream.

“Look, Buck, keeping it is bad enough. But wearing it? That's some pretty solid self-sabotaging behaviour, man. Trust me; I should know.” His words are cleanly direct, as they always are, only his mouth treats them with such gentleness, and such care, that Buck kind of wants to cry.

Eddie always looks after him. Always works hard to keep Buck's heart safe from harm.

Buck pictures it now, his heart laying uselessly in his friend's cupped hands as it continues to pump Buck's blood out of its floppy ventricles, even though there's nowhere left for it to go.

Tommy left him.

They all leave, eventually. Because everybody leaves Buck, he should know that by now.

Everyone except Eddie.

Adversely, though, it was only yesterday that Eddie had told Buck about his absolutely batshit crazy idea of moving back to El Paso, after which Buck's brain had consequently stopped sending messages to his body to tell it how to breathe.

He remembers picturing Yesterday Eddie crushing Buck's heart in a tight fist, blood and viscera oozing out from between his fingers and dripping down over his knuckles, right onto the sparkling white kitchen tiles. Then, rounding the table and chairs to step on the pedal bin pedal, he'd proceeded to throw Buck's heart away into the trash bag along with the rest of the trash.

Somehow though, in the space between the last of Buck's now-crushed heartbeats and him blinking back to reality, Buck had managed to snap out of the fucked-up vision to remind his body to keep working in the way that it's supposed to.

He'd then forced a plastic smile onto his face and painted it with as much selfless understanding as he could muster, before coming out with, “Well, we should move this party to the couch,” and offering himself up as a Realtor Virtual Meeting Wingman like a certified insane person.

Buck loved Eddie—he was his best friend in all the world—so what the fuck was he doing helping the guy turn his life into a living hell?

But helping being his first instinct was what made him realise he loved Eddie and Christopher enough to give them up, if that's what it was going to take to facilitate them getting their happiness back.

…Or so he thought.

As much as he had tried—and by god, he had really, really tried—Buck just couldn't keep up the Supportive Best Friend charade for very long.

That's when all hell had broken loose.

.

tags are under the cut, play or nay:

@inell @rosieposiepuddingnpie @sortasirius @angela-feelstoomuch @woodchoc-magnum @kitteneddiediaz @buddiebeginz @watchyourbuck @treasurehuntbuck @daffi-990 @colonoscopys @shitouttabuck @lamardeuse @idealuk @veronae-buddie @isaacthedruid @team-118 @wildehacked @playinginthunderstorms @kyoteugly @hotshotsxyz

[bookinit02]

posted!!

[hazelfoureyes]

Have you ever thought about the idea of a Clueless ace reader x ace alastor trying to figure out what all the fuss is about? Couple different ways it could go obviously but I feel like it would be a perfect comedy smut

Thank you for this meal. Okay I know this is LOOSELY based on your prompt, please forgive me. Can I add in that they be a little tipsy?

After a few drinks, you and Alastor do your usual teasing and mimicking of the others dramatic displays of physical affection. But, unusually, Alastor seems to be really invested in the joke tonight…

Warnings/promises: light smut (fingering), wrong kind of haha, sconces, bad Angel accent, Under 1500 words

maybe the tag list? Works list: @ xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

Alastor list: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

.

Fuck Joke Around and Find Out

The evening started with drinks among the group gathered at the bar. Everyone talking, sipping, leaning into each other to be heard better. Vaggie’s fingers playing with Charlie’s, Angel inching closer and closer to Husk until he was quite literally on top of him, to Husk’s obvious embarrassment. At some point, Angel took Husker’s hand, the two slinking down the hallway. Soon after, Vaggie not-so-discreetly followed a bouncing Charlie to their top floor home.

After realizing the couples snuck off, you turned to Alastor and asked, already smiling, “Oh I guess it’s our turn?”

Your giggling slipped into mutual cackles, his brows rose and he asked, “Your room or mine?”

You threw your leg over Alastor’s lap and straddled him, mustering your best Angel Dust accent, “Pssst rooms are for squares, baby.”

Normally, especially when having a little to drink, the physical barrier between each other was thin and easily toppled. An unspoken understanding had formed some time ago, allowing you both to relax a little more than usual when in close proximity. He still attempted his touchy intrusions to fluster and bother people, but he knew that didn’t work quite as effectively on you.

“Squares? Oh, not us.” A smirk, his head somewhat dramatically shaking a reinforced ‘no’, making his bobbed hair sway left and right.

When you start a pitifully-motivated grinding against him, losing balance and tipping backward, Alastor’s large hands come to the dip of your hips and still you. A laughed, accent-less, “Thanks, trying to do it like he did,” fell sloppily from your mouth, your hands going to his shoulders for extra security. Your head bent down, stifling another nervous giggle from spilling out. “I think this is exactly how Angel had Husk pinned. Not a convincin’ portrayal, pookie?” Your accent was shit, but he smiled all the same. His ears were pressed down and to the side, resting a little more against his skull than usual, something that seemed to happen often when he had a couple glasses. It looked more relaxed than his normal way of wearing them, but you never asked him about it.

Alastor’s finger tipped your chin upward, pulling you in for a kiss against his grin. When you huffed, fighting the awkward laugh, he swiped his tongue over your lips and slid into your mouth. A hum, as you relaxed into it. What a long joke this is, you think somewhere a little up and to the left of your liquor softened mind.

When alone together, you’d occasionally play around. Just mimicking what ridiculous things the other sinners had done recently, laughing and moving on to general gossip and conversation. Maybe the alcohol was dragging out the bit.

His hands pulled you forward, your little hip movements actually making contact with his crotch now. You hear yourself moan into his mouth before you even realize you’d made the noise.

Thinking becoming a little fuzzy, you pull back from him, “Oops. Sorry. Got carried away.”

“No need to apologize. What’s a little joking around between pals?”

You nod before a surprised shriek is forced out of you, Alastor pulling your hips down and starting to sincerely grind against you.

“I didn’t expect you to remember all the moves, Alastor.” Your hand came to your mouth trying to still the tremble of your lips as you spoke. Other hand now gripping his shoulder to stay upright. You’d never have played around with any one else but him like this. Too much confusion to deal with after. But, Alastor’s “playing” was so convincing. You weren’t minding it, to your surprise, but you weren’t sure you understood the source material as well he did.

His head fell back with a roar, “Being an infrequent lover doesn’t mean I am a bad one.”

Oh. Was the blush on your face noticeable in the dingy light of the parlor? You had never heard him say that word before. His hips were still moving, but the laughing stopped. It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact you found yourself sinking a little more, letting your weight settle fully. It earned you a sloppy half-smile from him. “That would make them experts, compared to us,” You motioned your head in the general direction of the stairs.

“You think so?”, he leaned up to kiss you, you leaned back a little, causing his lips to miss yours. A quick annoyed glare passed over his face before slipping back into a neutral stare, “Are you in the mood for a good joke tonight, dear? I wouldn’t be opposed to making you”, he grazed his nose against yours, “laugh.”

You let him capture your mouth with his, a surprisingly more intense kiss, before pulling away again when you caught another moan rising up, “I don’t mind a good laugh, now and then.” Did you-you say that or Angel-you?

The sofa cushions were pressing into your back before you could process what had happened. Alastor’s body was resting between your legs, which were spread open around him. His lips didn’t leave yours, one of his hands cradling your neck to trap you between him and his hungry mouth. The other was undoing the button of your pants and sliding under the band of your underwear.

His back was arched, his considerable height forcing him to bend over you if he wanted to continue the kiss, which he apparently did. Now on your back, you wiggled under him, awkward and uncertain what role you played anymore.

When his fingers slipped past your bottom lips and the mound of his hand ground into your clit, you pulled away from him and both hands shot to your mouth. You were aware you were in a public space but you couldn’t see anything past the sofa. Everything beyond him and the tattered chaise lounge was shadowy and lacking contrast. Even then, your heart was pounding.

When did the playing around shift? Was this—- did he think this was funny? His smile was strong against your neck still, but maybe not?

You splayed your fingers out to better hide yourself, embarrassed at how your hips rolled into his palm. Looking past your hands, you could see him staring down at you now, wide shoulders hiding you from the light of the sconces above. He had the same look as always in his eyes, nothing out of place. Cooly, he asked without actually wanting an answer, “Do you think this is what they’re doing now? Or is everyone already…”

A finger slipped down and into you, your legs clenching around his hips. You heard him sigh, before a second finger began to push in. Your hips lifted off the sofa and angled into his hand, welcoming the way he was pressing down and into you.

Oh, yeah, no.

A pent up moan tumbled past your lips when his fingers crooked up and pressed into the soft bundle of nerves just inside your entrance.

“What a curious laugh you have, my dear. Are my jokes that good?” He buried his face into the crook of your neck again when a voice stopped him from leaving the little marks he had been set on.

“I thought jokes were supposed to be funny. When is the funny part going to happen?”

Alastor’s ears were pin-straight into the air, hair stiff and sharp, as his face slowly turned to the side to see Niffty sitting at the bar.

”Oh, was I suppose to leave when everyone else did?” His hand slipped out of you and then in turn, your pants.

“No, Niffty, dear. That’s quite alright.”, Ears faced back and down, eyes half lidded and smile clearly forced, “We were just— playing around.”

“Really? Cuz it kinda looked like you guys were gonna fuck.” She hopped off the bar stool and scurried down the hall, “Please don’t dirty the sofa, sir.” echoing behind her.

You patted his shoulder, lifting yourself up on your elbows, “Can I be Husk next?”

I wrote this while washing dishes— the dishes aren’t very clean but neither am I

༻Masterlist༺

[lovezella]

The Witch Westeros

CHAPTER ONE - sneaking in a castle

disclaimer:

I do not own House of the Dragon nor the Scarlet Witch and her powers. Credits to Marvel and Stan Lee.

gif not mine, I got it from pinterest.

this fanfic does not follow the plot of the series nor its books. storyline belongs to me.

note:

as promised, here's the chapter two! i am so sorry for leaving this ff discontinued but i lost my motivation in writing and continuing it, so i hope y'all forgive me😭 and ofc, the suggestions for the love interest is still open! that's all, thank you xx

warning:

mentions of wound and blood but that's all (i think) NOT EDITED!!

Rhaenyra Targaryen paced around her chambers with a frown on her face. She was angry, sad, and betrayed. Her son, Lucerys, has been missing for three days and no one knows where he is or if he is alive. His dragon, Arrax, arrived wounded at the castle without his rider this morning and Rhaenyra’s paranoia grew. Her eldest son Jacaerys wouldn’t rest and flew with his dragon all day to look for his brother. Rhaenyra had soldiers roaming around King’s Landing and where he was last discovered, in hopes that they would find him.

Her son Joffrey’s name day is to be celebrated tomorrow but she couldn’t find it in her to celebrate while her second born son was out there missing. Alicent had suggested to have a gathering in honour of Joffrey’s name day, despite the young prince’s protest of not wanting to celebrate without his elder brother. Her father, Viserys, couldn’t have a say about it since he’s currently bedridden because of some sickness— that her uncle Daemon seems so sure that it was the greens’ doing.

Rhaenyra sat on her bed and sighed. She hoped that her son was alive, if not, she prayed for the one who caused his death that would receive her wrath.

-x-

You were used to not getting enough sleep in the past. Often staying up, staring at the ceiling and thinking of your family and ‘what ifs’ invading your mind. However, tonight was different. You shifted on your side, pulling your blanket up to cover you more as you pondered the events that can occur tomorrow.

When you saw a floating body on the waters yesterday, you never imagined it would be a prince. Maybe a commoner, a soldier harmed from a war, or even a pirate—do they even exist in this world? Hell, you don’t know,— but a prince? If you were to waltz into the castle with the young prince who was declared missing, you might—no, you will get into more trouble.

You let out a groan, rubbing your face tiredly. There goes your plan to lay low until you find a way to go back to your universe. Sighing, you gave up trying to sleep and went down to the kitchen, hoping baking will help you ease your nerves.

Tomorrow is going to be fun.

-x-

Lucerys Valeryon woke up with the sun beaming on his face, the distinct sound of the waves from outside and the fresh smell of bread making him realize where he was. He winced as he sat up from the soft bed he laid, rubbing his torso and arm where a cloth wrapped around his wound. He looked down and softly sighed, seeing the blood seeping on the cloth. Lucerys mustered up the strength to stand up and walked to the kitchen, ignoring the shooting pain on his muscles each step he took.

The sound of footsteps snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked up, seeing the young prince you took in last night staggered in.

“Dear, you should be in bed!” You fussed, meeting him half way and guiding him on a stool. You tsked, grabbing another cloth to rewrap his wounds. “How are you going to heal if you are not resting?”

Lucerys shook his head, “I’m alright, my lady. I don’t think I can handle being in bed for too long.”

“Such a stubborn boy,” You sighed, focusing on your task in hand. Lucerys didn’t reply but stared at the dozen plates of bread and dishes on the table. You finished wrapping his arm and torso with a cloth and saw his gaze at your table.

Your face flushed from embarrassment, “I…I cook and bake when I’m nervous.” you explained, throwing the bloody cloth away, “It helps me get my mind off of things.”

Lucerys smiled lightly, thinking of his brother who does the same thing with training when he wants a distraction. “There’s no need to be ashamed, my lady. My brother does it too. He drowns himself in training to distract him from his duties or well…everything.” You stare at him with a light smile, seeing the warm look on his face as he talks about his brother.

You stood up to fetch him breakfast, grabbing two plates from the table which consisted of scrambled eggs and bacon and a piece of butter toast— all you made from scratch. Since this period is lacking supplies you needed to cook, you decided to just conjure some from your magic. No one would know, and if they do, you can just erase their memories. Easy as a pie. You placed the plates on your living room table since you can’t eat at the kitchen table, and pushed Lucerys’ food to his side. Lucerys stared at the plate in front of him with a confused look on his face.

“My lady, I do not mean to offend you, but…what exactly is this?” He asked, hesitantly picking the fork up.

You chuckled and waved a hand, “Don’t worry, Luke, you didn’t offend me. That is scrambled eggs, bacon and butter toast.” You hoped it was enough for him as you were sure he eats more grand foods growing up.

“That is quite…peculiar.” Lucerys raised an eyebrow, “I have never heard of such a meal.”

You paused as you were about to take a bite. Shit, you forgot people from this era are used to eating just bread, fruits, and wine in the morning. “It’s a traditional meal from my home.” you quickly came up with an excuse, “Meals like this are common when we break our fast.”

Lucerys accepted your answer and took a bite of his food, eyes widening as he chewed. “This is delicious!” he exclaimed once he swallowed. “I should visit your home country if the food is as delicious as this.”

Not knowing how to reply, you just chuckled and nodded. You both ate breakfast in silence, caught up with your own thoughts to make a conversation leading to an awkward silence. You cleared your throat, “I was thinking that we should visit the castle once they finished the celebration. In that case, we would not be causing a ruckus and you can get to your family safely.”

“My lady, if I may,” Lucerys started, “I…I want to attend my brother’s name day.” You purse your lips at his words. You had figured he would say that and already formed a plan to sneak you both in.

“I can make it happen—” You said, and the young boy’s eyes widened in delight, “—But we have to do it discreetly.”

“And how, my lady, are we going to do that? I thought only invited high borns are allowed to attend? Are you a high born, my lady?” Lucerys couldn’t help but ask. Your house doesn’t exactly scream noble or rich to him, but he wouldn’t say it out loud. Although, from your looks, posture and manners, some can mistake you as one.

You chuckled, seeing the curious look on his face. You know he doesn’t mean any offense, he’s young and it’s normal for him to be curious. “No, but I can be very convincing.” You winked, subtly making your eye flash red. Lucerys didn’t seem to notice but trusted your words enough. After all, you did save him.

“We leave tonight, is that alright?” You asked, gesturing to his wounds. Lucerys nodded furiously, excited to see his family.

-x-

The moon shined bright and the streets were alive as ever for the celebration of the prince’s name day. Lucerys and you strode to the castle with hoods up to cover your faces. As you approached, a wheelhouse passed through the open gates before it snapped shut. Knights stood by the side; one was staring at you and Lucerys with a suspicious look.

Lucerys tugged your hand, “Perhaps we should just leave. We won’t be able to cross them.” his eyes nervously looking anywhere but the knights.

“It’s alright.” You squeezed his hand and walked confidently to the knights. “We’re here for the gathering.” you said with a smile.

The knight scoffed and said, “High borns only, lass. Your kind is not allowed here. I’m not letting you in.”

Lucerys glared at his offense but you tugged his hand, silently telling him to stay down.

“Oh, but you will.” You tilted your head, your iris turning red and with simple magic, the knight was under your control. “We are from House Maximoff, will you let us in?”

“Of course, my lady.” The knight said in a monotone voice. He shouted orders and before you knew it, the castle gates were open.

[roseonne]

we're here now

While Madoka catches a firefly, Misumi sadly smiles.

a very belated madoka birthday offering ! ( ao3 link )

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚

Basking under the pale light of the full moon tonight, Madoka patiently sits on an old tree stump, a round, transparent jar with a ribbon tied around its neck is held in between his palms.

He's in a pretty unusual place; a wide, open field of scenic greens, decorated with several bunches of such colorful varieties of flowers growing here and there, stretching far until the tips of the riverbank along the outskirts of Veludo Way.

The early evening atmosphere, although lightweight, hangs over and clings onto him like an invisible veil. What would've given Madoka the absolute worst of creeps, however, is the cold. He despises it not per se; he just grows a little too uncomfortable with chilly weather.

So thank goodness, it's summer. The warmth from the Earth beneath the soles of his shoes help keep his companions nearby too, making him feel even less lonely as he waits.

Oh, and by 'companions' he means the tiny fluttering tails of light that entomologists call...

Fireflies.

"Hello there," Madoka greets one that hovers closely above his nose. He stays as still as he can, observing the little creature silently with his round eyes. His new friend seems to have greeted him back too (its tail of light flickering a hint brighter for only a moment), flying off safely after the brief encounter.

Or... maybe not.

Clasping the lid of his jar in one hand, the bottle in the other, Madoka guides his firefly friend quickly into it's new home by a couple of rough, flappy swings. It's a bold attempt; somewhat clumsy, but effective nonetheless. (Although, he did struggle slightly with sealing the lid closed due to the frantic trembling of both of his wrists.)

The fabulously talented scriptwriter stares at his newfound souvenir. He feigns indifference, even as the little firefly roams aimlessly in disarray, clearly puzzled at the sudden minimization of its surroundings. The view of the world remains the same for it, sure, but then it's almost as if...

It's stuck.

Trapped, all of a sudden, with no chance of escape.

"I'm really sorry..." Madoka's hushed tone betrays the look he forces himself to so badly retain on his face. "I never wanted to do this, but I have to. It's for my brother."

He gently caresses the jar with his thumbs, whispering a few more 'I'm sorry's' to the poor creature inside.

What's he even thinking? Catching an innocent lifeform to give to Misumi as a present? Will his brother even like this present, is the actual question.

"Your brother will love anything as long as they're from you."

The words of Madoka's eldest senior at GOD-za comes to his ears in faint, rippling echoes. It's been his reassurance and motivation to indeed get Misumi a gift, but did he really have to go this far?

Amidst the seemingly endless wave of anxiety-driven queries further occupying Madoka's already raging mind, he gets pulled back to his senses the moment a familiar voice calls out to him.

"Madoka~?"

"Ahhh, nii-san!"

Jolting up to his feet in surprise, Madoka hastily hides the jar behind his back. He offers his brother the happiest smile he could muster, while Misumi shares the same sentiment with a truly genuine 'I'm glad we have time to spend together today!' look on his face.

And thus, a quiet pause. Madoka's always admired how easily his brother can smile so wide and honest like that. Oh, well. Misumi's the incarnate ray of sunshine after all. The older brother being the sun half of the Ikaruga siblings duo, as opposed to younger one being the moon half does feel too good of a mere 'coincidence'.

Misumi's smile is a precious treasure that Madoka promises to protect from here on out. And the thought of him possibly breaking that promise apart tonight terrifies the life out of him like no other.

"So~ How's working at GOD-za been like?" Misumi asks, reaching out with his palm to softly ruffle the tips of Madoka's soft, but tousled hair.

"O-Oh..." Madoka stammers, "Uhm, it's great. I'm learning constantly, and I make sure I apply all of that into my writing."

"Hehe~ Keep it up, Madoka! I'm rooting for you~"

Sensing a certain ache welling up in his heart, Madoka could only hum his nervous response. As the clock continues slowly ticking away, the more restless and agitated he becomes. Who knows how Misumi will react whenー

"By the way, if you don't mind me asking, what's that you're hiding behind you~?"

"Y-You saw that!?"

Despite having zero vision of the current state of his cheeks, the playwright is a hundred (and ten!) percent sure that his entire face has turned red in sheer embarrassment. And fear.

"Nii-san, I..." Madoka mentally admits not having much of a choice at this point, either. "I just thought I'd get you something..."

"Oooh, really? Thank you, Madoka!" Misumi rushes to wrap his most favorite person in the whole world within a tightest embrace. "Let's see what it is!"

The youngest Ikaruga brother bashfully reveals the jar to his sibling. (His hesitation evident, as it takes him around three to six seconds to actually hand the gift over to Misumi.)

Upon receipt, however, the eldest brother tilts his head over to one side, examining meticulously the jar's sole content.

"Did you put them inside?" Misumi asks.

A deafening silence.

"Madoka?"

"I...! Uhm... Y-Yes, I did..."

And one's worst fears have become realityーMisumi loses the sunshine smile his dearest brother adored so much.

"I didn't hurt it, nii-san, I promise!" The crack in Madoka's voice is an indication that something heavy's about to drop at any given moment.

"Yes. I know. I believe you, Madoka." Misumi reassures him, placing an arm around his shoulders and resting his head above his. "But we should let them go, don't you think?"

Madoka tenses at this.

Misumi looks around, eyes meeting each and every other wandering firefly within sight. "These are probably their family. And family should always stick together, no matter what!"

"Nii-san..."

"Let's set them free, okay? That way, they'll all be together again!" Misumi flashes his signature closed-eye smile, once more. "And they'll be happier. I'll be happier."

The youngest Ikaruga brother swears an arrow has just pierced right through the center of his chest.

"...Okay."

While Madoka keeps his fingers wrapped around the jar, Misumi does the honor of twisting the lid open. Along with the ribbon swaying to the faint breeze of the impact, the firefly too flies freely out of its temporary prison.

Save for the full moon's celestial glow, the night skies seem kind of empty; reflecting perhaps the inevitable growing of the void that has kept and been keeping a triangle who longs to love a family and a circle who longs to be loved by a family, separated for most of their lives.

"Nii-san..." Madoka stutters horribly, eyesight blurring from the tears already streaming down his cheeks, "I'm so sorry...!"

"Ehhh?" Misumi scurries into a mini panic of his own. "What's wrong, Madoka? Our firefly friends are all free now."

"Yes, but I meanー" Choking on his words, Madoka gets rubbed at his backside by the only person he entrusts his whole life to. "I mean, I'm sorry for not being there for you when you need me. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, nii-san!"

Misumi tilts his head over to one side like the confused, little cat that he is. "But... we're here now, aren't we?"

Just like fireflies, family finds their way back to family. Despite the bitter past of two individuals who once struggled to mend the broken stitches of their interconnected fates together somehow, it's not too late. It will never be too late to try again, and be better.

Especially since, the Ikarugas as off to a good start.

"Is it really okay?" Madoka sniffs back a cold. 

"Yeah!" Misumi wipes a tear drop away with his thumb. "Nothing can stop us now. Because we're freeeeeee!"

Madoka Ikaruga. GOD-za's most promising scriptwriter. Known for his cute face, creative mind, and sincere heart. But just for tonight, he ought to give himself a more selfish title.

Misumi Ikaruga's one and only, favorite little brother.

[armeenix]

Unwanted Desires

CEO!Erwin smith x New secretary!Fem!Y/n

So I've had this series idea called unwanted Desires about CEO Erwin who owns a research business and y/n who was recently hired as his new secretary and the *unwanted Desires* that start to arise, but since I dont think I really have the motivation to write a whole long story like that I at least wanted to try and make a little short story from it! Maybe In the future I'll be able to start the full story. This short story will probably be a few posts long, maybe.

So yeah enjoy!

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

The last couple of months have been hectic to say the least. You've gone from a happy woman with an amazing boyfriend and job, to a woman who is hungry for revenge on both her boss and her ex boyfriend....And who is also crashing at an ex co-workers house. A little context is definitely needed.

About 4 months ago you had a simple and amazing life. You had an amazing paying job at Market research corporation, an amazing boyfriend, and a lavish apartment that you lived in with said boyfriend! You're boyfriend's name was Zeke Yeager, who also happened to be the owner of Marley corps! Now I know it seems like a bad idea to date your boss (it was) but he was just so....erm charming?

I mean sure he didn't pay you nearly as much as other companies would/should but hey he payed you in other ways. (those ways weren't too good either if you catch my drift) And sure he could be extremely controlling and toxic at times, but it was only because he cared about you so much! (You can see how delusional you were now) He was just so perfect in your mind and nothing could ever make you think otherwise....

Well I mean nothing could have ever made you think otherwise before.

"Before what?" You may be asking. Well thats a sore subject. Not for me though, just for you lol! Everything was going great until one evening when you and Zeke arrived home from work. You had gotten out of the car and began walking towards the lobby when you realized that he wasn't following behind you.

You curiously walked back to the car amd knocked on his window. "What y/n" he said in an agitated tone. "I uhm, I just wanted to see why you weren't coming inside with me?"

"Not that it's any of your business but, I'm going out."

At this point you could tell that he was losing his patience, and trust me when I say that when Zeke Yeager loses his patience it gets real messy real quick, so Instead of asking anymore questions you took a deep breath before nodding. You look back at him and gave him the best smile you could muster before speaking. "Okay..be careful baby. I'll see you when you get back."

You leaned into the window in hopes of getting a quick kiss goodbye but instead he turned his head away, before pressing play on the cars panel. His music began to loudly play as he quickly pulled out of his parking spot, leaving you standing there in shock.

"What the fuck...?"

* * *

The rest of your night was spent with you watching Netflix while eating some Chinese takeout. You tried your best to get your mind off of how Zeke had acted just a few hours ago but your thoughts just kept coming back to it.

Had you done something wrong? Or maybe it was that something had happened during one of his meetings today? Or maybe you had messed up one of the documents that he had asked you to finish that day? Not knowing was killing you! But the worst part was that zeke wasn't answering his phone. You knew for a fact that he was on his phone because everytime you sent a message he left you on fucking read!

After hours and hours of no response you gave up. If he didn't want to talk to you then he wouldn't have to. At least not until you got a proper apology. You knew that wasn't gonna happen any time soon but a woman can hope can't she? (No. No she could not.)

*Ding*

Your heart fluttered with hope as you picked up your phone only to see-

"I'm not coming home tonight."

.......

Draft: "Fuck you."

You didn't send it. Who would have thought?

End of part 1 😋

I hope you guys enjoyed this lol

[kisumitenderly]

The night was cool, and against Kisumi's protests, Nikki didn't hesitate to drape his coat over him, claiming that he wasn't cold himself. And as an added bonus to cease the whining, Nikki wrapped him up tight in his arms, looking as if he thoroughly enjoyed how flustered Kisumi was getting.

' Why do you always treat me like a child? ' The question always came up whenever Nikki was nice to him, whenever he spoiled him or gave him any special treatment. The norm was, Kisumi never got a straight answer to the question, always brushed off.

But tonight, the way Nikki looked at him was different.

" Kisumi. " Nikki called his attention in a low voice, cementing it when he so tenderly held his cheek. " It hasn't occurred to you that I treat you this way because I like you? "

He leaned in, tilting his head for a better angle--

" Wake your ass up, Kisumi. "

The real thing pinched Kisumi's nose firmly. " How long are you going to sleep for?We've got a meeting to get to. "

Kisumi could feel the goosebumps fleck across his skin. Even with Nikki’s coat wrapped around his shoulders he still had goosebumps, it wasn’t just from the cold.the warmth of him sunk into his shoulder and then his side. Then somehow they were chest to chest. Could it had been he had been so caught up in complaining he hadn’t noticed until Nikki was far too close?

Kisumi was staring at back him only for a brief moment. Despite his eyes always wandering towards him when they were this close he couldn’t be caught. Not yet. He was ready yet. A simmer of heat burst out on his cheeks that hopefully he could just write off from the cold. His skin was sensitive, maybe Nikki didn’t notice. How could he not.

The words fell from his lips before he could muster up anything better. “Why are you treating me like a child?” Nikki wasn’t wrapping him up in his jacket for any other motivation. He thought of his own brother and how he would do whatever Hayato wanted to make his life more comfortable. Nikki saw him through that same familiar lens. Usually when Kisumi asked in the past their conversation would just end. Nikki wouldn’t answer and instead changed the topic or glaze over and make him focus on their task. Kisumi pushed back his hair to find Nikki’s gaze held firm onto him.

Those goosebumps soon turned to a full body shiver.

There was a touch to his cheek that sent shockwaves to his system. Stars. He felt like a child reacting too much to such a simple gesture. Kisumi could barely even listen to the rest of Nikki’s confession with his heart beating so loudly in his ear. It’s happening. Had Nikki always looked at him this softly? Kisumi reached his own hand out and his fingers brushed the little imperfection on Nikki’s cheek. He wanted to so badly since he couldn’t remember when.

He would kiss him there after they finished.

Before Kisumi could get ahead of himself he allowed Nikki to meet him. He wanted for him to make the first move. Lifting his chin their lips only a breath of a distance from each other. Kisumi’s allowed his eyes to fall close and he waited there for him….

Then he felt a pressure on his nose.

Wrong. It was wrong. How could have Nikki had such poor aim. Kisumi groaned as the heaviness gave way allowing for him to open his eyes. When had Nikki gotten above him? The harshness of reality smacked him. It had all been a dream?! Kisumi’s face flushed red now for real embarrassment since Nikki was getting annoyed at him for the lack of professionalism. Imagine how he would act knowing the dream sequence that just played out for him. “‘m sorry.” He slurred rubbing both his hands down his face to get himself right.

He couldn’t even enjoy his fantasy even in sleep. Nikki still found a way to avoid him.

[hinatastinygiant]

1 | Seeds of Destiny

Pairing: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Fem!Reader

Lotus Masterlist

You flopped onto your bed, exhaustion weighing heavy on your shoulders. Kagaya Ubuyashiki's monotonous lectures always left you drained, even if they were meant to inspire and motivate you. The importance of the demon slayer corps was undeniable, but sometimes, you wished for a break from the constant weight of responsibility.

Just as your eyes began to droop, your phone pierces through the silence with an incoming call. Mitsuri's name flashes on the screen, and you muster up enough energy to answer. 

"Hey, Mitsuri. Is everything alright?" you answer, your voice laced with weariness.

"Hey, Y/N! I'm throwing a party at my place tonight. You have to come!" Mitsuri's voice bubbles with enthusiasm.

You hesitate for a moment, feeling the fatigue in your bones. "I appreciate the invitation, Mitsuri, but I'm really tired. I think I'll pass this time."

Mitsuri giggles mischievously. "Oh, come on! Don't be a party pooper. It's going to be so much fun! And guess what? Everyone is staying over! So, grab your comfy clothes and bring your toothbrush. It's a sleepover!"

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Everyone? Are you serious? You really want them all in one place for the whole night..."

Mitsuri's voice then becomes more playful. "Yep! And who knows? Maybe it's the perfect chance for you to make your move on Shinazugawa."

You can't help but scoff at the suggestion. "Yeah, right. Like that's ever going to happen."

"Oh, you never know! Better be prepared just in case. Anyway, get ready because someone will come to pick you up in about an hour," she giggles over the phone.

Panic surges through your body as you realize the limited time you have to prepare. "Wait, Mitsuri! An hour? That's barely enough time-"

But before you can finish your sentence, Mitsuri hangs up, leaving you with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. You jump off your bed, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you scramble to get everything in order.

You put your headphones on, drowning out the world with music as you pack your bag. Lost in your own world, dancing and singing along, you don't hear the knock on your front door. In fact, you don't notice anything until your bedroom door creaks open, and a familiar voice startles you.

"I'm guessing you're not ready yet," Sanemi says in his usual gruff tone, leaning against the door frame, looking amused when he sees the startled look on your face. 

You hastily take your headphones out and turn to face him, slightly flustered. "Shinazugawa! You can't just come into a girl's house without knocking! It's basic courtesy."

Sanemi shrugs casually, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I did knock. You just didn't hear it."

You cross your arms, refusing to let him off the hook. "That's not an excuse. You should wait for permission, regardless."

He raises an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving his face. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind. Mitsuri called you about the party, right? Are you going?"

You let out a chuckle, busying yourself with packing. "What does it look like? I'm getting ready to go right now."

Sanemi's gaze lingers on you, assessing your appearance. "You need to get ready? But you look fine."

Your face heats up, and you try to brush off his comment. "Well, I still have a few things to do. It's not like I woke up prepared for this. She pretty much just called me. But I'm actually surprised you're going too. I didn't really think parties were your thing."

Sanemi shrugs nonchalantly, his smirk turning into a half-smile. "Well, I won't be going. Not if you take so long. You don't want to keep people waiting, Y/N, especially me."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you retort, "Oh, please. Don't act like you're the most important person in the world. I'll be ready in no time."

With determination, you finish packing your things and sling your bag over your shoulder. Sanemi's gaze lingers on you, and he can't help but tease, "Just don't fall in love with me tonight, okay?"

You scoff, trying to hide the flutter in your heart. "Please, I've gone this long without falling for you. I'm pretty sure I can survive the next century."

He chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. But without much more to say, you both walk outside together, the cool evening air brushing against your skin.

Before getting into the car, you remind Sanemi, "Seriously though, don't just walk into a girl's house like that. I could have been in the shower or something."

He shrugs, a nonchalant grin on his face. "So what? It's not like you have anything to hide."

"What?!" you nearly choke on your own saliva.

"We see each other every day," he shrugs. "I know pretty much everything you do. It's not like you've got some secret double life," he then clarifies.

The comment strikes a nerve, and anger flares within you. "Respect and privacy matter, Shinazugawa. It's basic courtesy. Even if we do know each other."

Unfazed, he leads you to his car, a sleek white vehicle parked nearby. It's stylish and elegant, with a touch of sophistication. The sight of it leaves you impressed.

"Nice car. I didn't know you had one," you remark, appreciating the clean design.

Sanemi smirks, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Eh, it's relatively new. Can't stand having to depend on others all the damn time to get places, you know?"

As you and Sanemi near Mitsuri's house, a mischievous glint sparks in his eyes. "You know, when I saw you earlier today, it looked like you were about to fall asleep while talking to the old man," he smirks.

Heat rises to your cheeks, embarrassment washing over you. "Were you watching me?" you ask, trying to hide your mortification.

Sanemi chuckles, a playful tone in his voice. "Nah, just happened to pass by. But I couldn't help but notice you were nearly ready to drown yourself in the lake."

You huff a mixture of irritation and amusement. "Thanks for the concern, but I was just tired. No need to make it sound so dramatic."

Sanemi flashes a teasing grin, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Well, you know I'm always here to save you from your perilous nap adventures."

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. And then finally, you arrive outside Mitsuri's house. If there's one thing worse than having all Mitsuri's friends in one place, it's being alone with Sanemi and all that awkward tension and you can't wait to relieve yourself from the lesser of the two evils. 

Lotus Masterlist

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[biffhofosho]

Sneak Peek: Neo Seoul 4 - Ikigai

First excerpt I will share is from the conclusion of my Neo Seoul series. Thank you for being patient with her. She's a special piece to me. <3 She be out soon.

Nobody said a word as the chrome car coasted over the black waters of the Han. It had been raining steadily all day, just as it had yesterday. The river was high and fast while the sky hung low and heavy. Clouds had swallowed up the spires of the richest residents of Seoul, cloistering gluttonous magnates in their silver towers.

In fact, it had been quiet since the moment the trio of Xe, Minhyuk, and Changkyun had embarked on their fool’s errand. No doubt part of that was the damn near insurmountable task ahead of them, but another part had also been inherited from these last two weeks operating under the oppressive likelihood of failure.

The stray dogs had followed Xe’s lead—not like she’d given either of them a choice. Hyungwon was no fighter, but he was a man in love, and that made him eager to help and learn whatever he could, not that Xe would ever risk him on a trip of this magnitude. It was clear that, despite how motivated he was, he was far too green for the front lines, and Xe was far too desperate to care about someone else’s feelings today. Maybe if they’d had another couple of months, but they all agreed Denarii had waited long enough. Tonight, the lovestruck fool stayed behind in the command center with Zama.

As for Changkyun, he had been right—no one had come to look for him. It was possible Starship wasn’t going to risk the Stack without solid intel, but the most likely truth was far more depressing.

No one cared he was missing.

Now side-by-side in the backseat, Minhyuk ventured a glance over at the guy. Changkyun’s brow hung as low as the clouds as he stared out the window, his eyes never leaving the beacon of his father’s empire.

The defensive, jealous part of Minhyuk wanted to feel vindicated, but the more time he spent with the guy, the harder it was to dislike him and the easier it was to pity him. Changkyun was the heir-apparent to one of the biggest corporations in Seoul, but no one had dispatched security teams to look for him let alone filed a police report? Maybe this black sheep was only reaping what he’d sown, but every day that passed along the rich kid’s side made it clear that he’d been born into the wrong life entirely.

Changkyun was proud but quietly so. He worked hard and trained harder. He listened. He contributed. He risked his immeasurable inheritance for a snipe hunt with a gang of unknown criminals. It was hard to believe he’d grown up in the clouds.

Maybe Minhyuk even respected him a little bit.

Now that they’d punched through the city lines, the tension ramped up exponentially. The weight of the task ahead of them was so crushing that each of them could barely muster the energy to move their limbs. It was all Minhyuk could do to turn his head toward his best friend.

Though they’d spent every day for two weeks holed up in their headquarters, Minhyuk had barely talked to Xe. She spent nearly every waking moment going over their plans and running simulations, looking for mistakes, holes, weak points, or outliers. She found something new to obsess over each time, which drove her down yet another rabbit hole in search of perfection from a world that had never heard the word.

In some ways, Minhyuk had never felt farther from her than he did sitting beside her in that passenger seat.

There were bags under her eyes, accented by the neon kaleidoscope of the Troughs. Her high cheeks had sunken, worse even than when she’d been sick with the cancer. Her skin was stretched far too taut over every lithe limb. She had, however, tried to dress up the worst of it with some makeup, and Minhyuk smiled softly because he understood. She wanted to look presentable for her sister.

There was such conviction—such hope—in the gesture that, even with the weight of the whole of Starship pressing down on them, he believed they could do this harder than he’d believed anything simply because Xe believed.

To be continued...

[isaadore]

ALWAYS "YES" | CHARLES LECLERC

pairing dad!charles leclerc x mom!reader

⭑ SUMMARY no matter how many times you say “no” to ice cream before dinner or to another teddy bear she doesn’t need, charles always finds a way to give his daughter everything she wants. after all, he’d do anything to see his little girl smile. word count 1.5k

warnings none, just pure fluff!

note i'm so happy i found the motivation to write this because i've been thinking about a dad!charles au for a LONG time 🤕 this is the first fic for the au, so i hope u guys like it <3

MASTERLIST | CL16 MASTERLIST | AU MASTERLIST

A NEW STUFFED FRIEND

The toy store was a maze of bright colours and displays, each one more tempting than the last. Amélie’s eyes widened as she took it all in from her spot next to you, her little hand gripping yours as she craned her neck to see everything. You and Charles were trying to stick to your list—just a quick trip to pick up a birthday present for one of Amélie’s friends—but that was easier said than done.

As you turned a corner, Amélie’s gaze landed on a shelf filled with stuffed animals. One in particular, a soft, cuddly bunny with oversized ears and a pastel bow, caught her eye. Her face lit up, and before you could react, she was already reaching out, her voice full of excitement.

“Papa! Maman! Look at this bunny! I need it!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with that particular brand of urgency only a child could muster.

You gently shook your head, already anticipating the conversation. “Sweetheart, you have so many toys at home already. Remember how we talked about choosing carefully?”

Amélie’s enthusiasm wavered for a moment, but she wasn’t ready to give up. “But this one is different! I don’t have a bunny like this!”

Charles watched the exchange with a familiar look, caught between wanting to support your decision and the urge to make his daughter happy. “Amélie, Maman’s right. You have a lot of toys, and we’re here to get a gift for your friend, remember?”

Amélie’s lower lip began to tremble, her eyes pleading with Charles. “But, Papa…”

You sighed, knowing Charles’ resolve was weakening by the second. “Amélie, I know it’s hard, but we have to be fair. You don’t need every toy you see.”

Charles hesitated, his gaze shifting from Amélie to the bunny still within her reach. He crouched down to her level, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Tell you what, princesse (princess), how about we let this bunny stay here for now, but maybe… just maybe, Papa will find a way to bring it home later, as a special surprise? But it has to be our little secret.”

Amélie’s face brightened instantly, the disappointment fading as she nodded eagerly. “Okay, Papa! Our secret.”

You caught the exchange and gave Charles a knowing look, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. Charles straightened up, offering you an almost sheepish grin before walking with Amélie away from the display.

5 MORE MINUTES?

The evening had settled into a familiar routine, with Amélie snuggled in her pyjamas, ready for bed. You and your family spent the day running around the paddock, and the quiet of the night was a welcome change. As you readied her for sleep, Amélie’s favourite show played softly on the TV, its cheerful theme song echoing through the room.

As the show neared the end, Amélie's big eyes looked up at you, pleading. "Maman, can I stay up for five more minutes to watch the end? Please?"

You glanced at the clock, noting it was well past her bedtime. “Ami, it’s already late. We really need to get to bed.”

Amélie’s lower lip quivered as she made her best attempt at a sad face. “Just five more minutes? It’s almost over.”

Charles, who had been quietly watching from the doorway, stepped into the room with a gentle smile. “Well,” he said, crouching down beside Amélie. “I think we can make an exception tonight. Let’s see how the show ends, and then it’s straight to bed, alright?”

You raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that five minutes would likely stretch a little longer. “Charles, you know it’s important to stick to the bedtime routine.”

Charles gave you a playful grin, his eyes twinkling. “I know, but I think a little leniency tonight won’t hurt. What do you think, Amélie?”

Amélie’s face lit up with a hopeful smile as she looked between you and Charles. “Thank you, Papa!”

You sighed, knowing you were fighting a losing battle, but you couldn’t resist Amélie’s excited face. 

“Alright, just a few more minutes,” you surrendered, a smile tugging at your lips.

Charles winked at you as he settled onto the edge of the bed beside Amélie. “Just don’t let it become a habit,” you added, as the three of you watched the show’s final minutes together.

As the credits rolled, Charles tucked Amélie in with a soft kiss on her forehead. “Sweet dreams, mon trésor (my treasure)” he whispered.

Amélie’s eyes fluttered closed, content and smiling. You turned off the TV and gave Charles a playful nudge. “You and your bedtime extensions,” you teased.

Charles chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around you. “This is the last time, I promise.”

I’VE GOT YOU

The park was bustling with laughter and activity, the warm sun casting a cheerful glow over the playground. Amélie darted from one attraction to another, her boundless energy a testament to her excitement. As you and Charles followed behind, it was clear she had her interest in a big slide—a structure that seemed to tower over the playground.

Amélie’s eyes sparkled as she approached the base of the slide, her excitement palpable. “Can I go on the big slide?” she asked, her tiny hands gripping the side as she looked up.

You took a deep breath, knowing the slide was a bit too big for her. “Amélie, that slide is really big and fast. I don’t think you’re quite ready for it yet. How about you try one of the smaller slides instead?”

Amélie’s face fell, clouded with disappointment. “But I really want to try it, Maman! I’ll be careful, I promise.”

"Maman's right," Charles agreed with you. But after seeing Amélie's face fall even more, he said, "How about this: I'll be right here to catch you. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

You shot Charles a questioning look, knowing he was softening to her request. “Charles, I’m concerned about her safety. It’s not just about catching her; it’s about how fast and high that slide is.”

Charles gave you a reassuring look. “I understand, but I think Amélie deserves a chance to try it.”

Amélie’s eyes lit up with renewed hope. “Papa, you will catch me?”

Charles nodded, his gaze steady and confident. “Absolutely. We’ll go together, and I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

You sighed, recognizing the determination in both Charles’ and Amélie’s faces. “Alright,” you said, your voice softening. “But please be careful. And remember, just this once.”

Charles grinned as he took Amélie’s hand and guided her to the base of the slide. “Ready, mon ange (my angel)?” he asked, lifting her up to the top. “I’ve got you.”

Amélie climbed up with Charles’s encouragement and, with a little boost, she slid down with a squeal of delight, landing safely in Charles’s arms. She beamed with joy, clinging to him as they laughed together.

You couldn't help but smile as Charles helped Amélie off the slide, her face glowing with happiness.

“Thank you, Papa!” Amélie squealed, hugging Charles tightly.

Charles winked at you as he gently tousled Amélie’s hair. “Anytime.”

SWEET TREAT

Despite his fame and money, Charles preferred to do things himself, especially after Amélie was born. So, when it came to everyday tasks like grocery shopping, he always made time to head out with you and his daughter, rather than delegating the job to someone else.

“Pasta for dinner, again?” Amélie pouted, her tiny lip jutting out as you pushed her along in the shopping cart.

“You know it’s Papa’s favourite,” you replied, trying to suppress your smile. It was clear Amélie took this matter very seriously. Though she might be her father’s daughter, she definitely didn’t share his love for pasta, especially with how often Charles had it.

Charles appeared from another aisle, overhearing the conversation as he approached the cart and dropped a few more ingredients in.

“Come on, mon petit ange (my little angel), it’s been ages since I had pasta! You want Papa to be happy, don’t you?” he teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

Amélie grumbled in response but gave a small nod, crossing her little arms.

You turned away to stifle a giggle. “She’s so cute,” you whispered to Charles. “This never gets old.”

Charles smiled at you before turning back to his daughter. “Don’t be upset, Ami,” he said softly. “Maybe we could find something fun to make dinner more exciting.”

Amélie’s pout wavered, her curiosity piqued. “Like what?”

You caught the gleam in Charles’ eye and quickly intervened, “Something that isn’t candy, right? It’s almost dinner time...”

Charles chuckled, nodding, but you could tell he wasn’t being honest. “Of course, of course. But maybe just a little look at the candy aisle won’t hurt, hmm? Just to see what’s new.”

Amélie’s eyes lit up, her earlier sulk almost forgotten. “Can we, Maman? Just to look?”

You sighed, knowing where this was headed, but unable to resist the hopeful look on both of their faces. “Alright, just a peek.”

Charles grinned as he gently steered the cart toward the candy aisle. Amélie’s excitement grew with every step, and you found yourself smiling despite your best efforts to stay firm.

As you reached the aisle, Charles leaned down to whisper to Amélie, “Maybe there’s something small we can sneak in after dinner. What do you think?”

Amélie nodded eagerly, her earlier disappointment about pasta completely forgotten as she scanned the colourful shelves. You shook your head with a smile, knowing Charles would always find a way to make his little girl happy, dinner rules or not.

MASTERLIST | CL16 MASTERLIST | AU MASTERLIST

[queenscharacters]

“Fancy running into you here…” Ambrose to Bianca (ya know in the apartment complex they both live in 🤣)

This couldn’t be happening. Bianca had been trying to motivate herself to go to the gym for quite some time now, but it wasn’t until tonight that she showed up. She quite literally waited until it was nearing midnight so the chances of her sharing her complex’s tiny gym with anyone else was slim to none. She wouldn’t have let company deter her fork working out, she just preceded solitude.

And, of course, one person had to be there. Not just anyone, either. Her insanely attractive, super mysterious, infuriatingly charming neighbor. Bianca could’ve died on the spot. This wasn’t fair. She recognized she had a crush on him - she wasn’t delusional - but how was she supposed to recover from seeing him covered in sweat, his muscles out on display. Part of her was thrilled that she chose a cute little set (she specifically ordered it to motivate her to hit the gym), however…she kind of felt naked in it?

If it was possible to muster an annoyed expression through a blushing face, she surely attempted to. “It’s almost like we live in the same building.” It was such an effort to keep her voice even, but she managed. He would not have the satisfaction of getting her any more flustered.

Bianca settled her yoga mat down across from where Ambrose was with his weights, forcing herself to maintain eye contact as she sat herself and began her stretches. “Looks like you’ve been here for a hot second.” She mused. That was a good way to segway into checking him out again, because there was no way he didn’t see her doing so. “Damn. If I knew there was a chance of running into you here, maybe I would’ve forced myself down here sooner.”

[tinie-alien]

I think, once I finish the board I'm currently working on, I'm gonna restart/watch Torchwood tonight to try to make myself feel better. Maybe have some ice cream too and try to muster up some motivation to color or maybe even draw.. We'll see.

[savebatswingaus]

Wings of Warriors - Warrior Cat Wing AU

Summary:

There's been a prey thief at large, and Hollyleaf finally catches them.

Notes:

I made this for this daily in scratch writing camp: In a galaxy far far away, a meowing polar bear is... STARVING. What an unfortunate result of climate change. Today, your mission is to bake a lasagna in order to feed the starving polar bears. But first, you'll need ingredients! In the comments, write 1 aspect of worldbuilding, 1 antagonist, 1 lesson, 1 line of dialogue, and 1 turning point. Then, claim one of each from five different people so that you have the five layers of your lasagna story. Make sure to write at least 300 words (you don't want undercooked lasagna, do you?) to earn 300 points! (Brownie points if you feed a polar bear on the daily team lasagna :3) My comment was: Worldbuilding: Discuss the details of a fictional species. Antagonist: A childhood enemy that got worse over time. Lesson: Main character learns that they can work as well together as they can alone, should they choose to. Dialogue: “But- but that’s not fair!” Turning point: A character discovers a stronger motivation to do something.   I was gonna write Pokespe (Hoenn) fic, but I couldn’t find a worldbuilding that fit what I was going for, so I’ll have to shelve that for later. Enjoy some Warrior Cats wing au! I guess! Words: 1,057

Fic under the cut or in the link in the title. :3

Hollyleaf crept quietly along the mossy forest floor, folding her dark crow wings tight to her back as she did. She kept her claws in, but felt her nose twitch as she sensed something in the air. That had to be it! That had to be who she was looking for.

Over the past few days, Thunderclan had been losing prey like down feathers on a fledgling kit, and Hollyleaf had promised herself that she would get to the bottom of it. In this dark forest night, she bended in well with the dark ferns, which was something good she could say about her dark fur, at least. She opened her mouth to allow the scent to mix better with her memories. She was sure that she recognized it from someone, but for some reason she simply could not muster up from where.

She could hear them, chewing messily on whatever they had stolen from the pile now, clearly unaware that they were being tracked. Hollyleaf lashed her tail in rage. How could someone, who she was now sure was a cat, betray the Warrior Code in such a way? To steal away food from those that truly needed it, for what reason? Some inability to hunt for the group?

Hollyleaf snarled, and the sounds from the shadowy figure before her stopped. Good, she thought, They'll be scared before I catch them.

She leaped forward, fangs bared, claws out, and wings spread, and landing where the figure had been meer moments before. She hissed and whipped around as the large shape rolled away to the side, still masked by the dark sky above the and scent of all of the mice it had been pigging out on. 

”Who are you?!“ She hissed, leaping forward again, but still somehow missing as the cat dove away. She'd only seen one other who could move that fast in battle, and she didn't very well like having the matchup with another cat, ”Why have you been stealing prey?“

The cat didn't answer, and Hollyleaf snarled again, spreading her wings even wider as a way to threaten the larger cat. But they seemed to be trying to turn their face away from her, so she wasn't even sure if they'd seen her. 

”Answer me!“ She shrieked, jumping forward in an attempt to pull the larger cat down, but missing as large powerful wings sent them over her. Immediately she whirled around, but her claws raked on air as the cat scrambled up a nearby maple tree. 

Hollyleaf hissed and followed after them. It was too tight in the forest to fly up, but if she could get them into the sky somehow... Sure, the moon was dark tonight, but maybe Star Clan's light would allow her to see the face of the cat she was fighting, and therefore reveal the identity of Thunderclan's thief. 

Just her luck, the bigger cat seemed to have the same idea, as he climbed higher and higher in the tree. (An extra bonus of which was that, by the way they were climbing, Hollyleaf was now pretty sure that this cat was a Thunderclan cat, which made her even more irritated. 

”Hey!“ she yelled, egging them on as the two cats reached the highest point in the tree, ”Fight me, you thief!“

The cat did not even pause when they reached the top branch of the tree, though the speckles of starlight down from the sky began to bring their pelt into a recognizable state. Orange-ish, with stripes. Large barn owl wings that spread open with a power unlike any other as the cat leaped into the sky.

Hollyleaf jumped after him, feeling the wind tear through her fur as she fought to keep up with the thief. He was unbelievably fast for a cat of his size, and something in Hollyleaf's brain was doing its best to connect the clues, but something else seemed to be doing its fair job to keep her from the truth. She wanted to hiss at that side of her mind, but she had enough on her paws already as she fought to keep up with the bigger cat.

See was so focused, indeed, on all of that nonsense, that she didn't even notice the clouds coming in overhead, slowly blanketing the familiar pelt back in a layer of shadows. They were fine with her, her crow wings and black fur had her blend very nicely into the dark, and the panic she could smell on the larger cat told her that they weren't a fan of that part of their chase.

The cat dove for the trees, and Hollyleaf swooped after it. She felt her face turn into a grin. She was gaining on them for sure now. 

She felt her claws latch in their pelt, and her nose immediately filled with their scent as the two crashed through the tree layer. Her eyes widened as the cat yelped.

“Lionblaze!?” Hollyleaf shrieked, her claws still deeply rooted in that orange fur as the two landed in the branches of a large pine, ”Why have you been stealing our prey?!”

A crack of thunder overhead came with a sudden heavy downpour of raindrops that broke right through the needles onto her fur. But she hardly noticed them, instead shivering from wingtip to claws from the force of utter betrayal she felt in her heart. How could someone like this, her brother, break the Warrior Code so egregiously?

How could Star Clan be so cruel?

“Well,” Lionblaze started, his voice shaky and scarred, “I had to do it,”

“But why?!” screamed Hollyleaf, shaking her brother like he weighed nothing as thick lightning bolts raced across the sky, picking up leaves and branches like nothing as the wind grew. “What do you mean you “had to?” Are you insane?!”

Lionblaze flinched, and his wings shivered, but Hollyleaf did not allow him to move, a traitor like him could never be considered a friend to her, even as the clouds began to spiral down around them. Even as the rain began to wrap around an ever growing horror. 

As Lionblaze struggled to speak, Hollyleaf felt blood pound in her ears, even flat against her head as they were. Her heart felt broken. In this storm, she could only find one constant.

Life wasn't fair.

Notes:

Here's what I used: Worldbuilding: Each person has some sort of wings. Some people have robin wings, others have California condors. Some people are bat-like, some people more comparable to flying fish- although those aren't true wings. Try to envision a society where this is normal. - Starthorn https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/33415323/comments/#comments-230085246 Antagonist: The protagonist's brother - silverlynx- https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/33415323/comments/#comments-230064624 Lesson: Life isn't fair -BookLover209 https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/33415323/comments/#comments-230086800 Dialogue: “Well, I had to do it.” - Magnolia012 ( https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/33415323/comments/#comments-230088935 Turning Point: A sudden natural disaster shakes the setting. - Sunclaw68 https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/33415323/comments/#comments-230047423

[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.

[jikookiekosmos]

Stay With Me || jjk

➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader, husband!jungkook/reader

➥Summary: Being married to Jungkook was everything you’d wished for and more. There wasn’t a problem the two of you couldn’t tackle together, and building this life with the person you loved most was all you could ask for. But when a ghost from your past returns and threatens to pull you two apart in whatever way they can, will things still be the same?

➥Genre: established relationship, heavy angst (I’m so sorry), smut, fluff, hurt/comfort

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~14.2k (more of a one shot than a drabble I know, oops)

Before you continue there are darker themes explored in this drabble; please read at your own risk. Appropriate warnings are listed below.

➥Content Warnings: POV switches, feelings of anxiety from being in danger, jungkook is protective (and for good reason), we see a pissed off hoseok, (tw: harassment, violence, implied/attempted kidnapping, reader gets injured), yoongi & jimin to the rescue (bless them), jungkook is pissed off (again for good reason), jungkook cries, reader also cries, jungkook has feelings of insecurity and not being good enough, they have ✨very emotional sex✨ up against a wall, cursing (fuck is said a lot), slight hair pulling, fingering (very brief), jungkook has a big dick, unprotected sex (safe sex is great sex), dirty talk, rough sex, cumming inside, aftercare, jungkook is actually the sweetest, reader and jk are so in love with each other it hurts, also jk saying ‘only for you’ is a thing i started and can’t stop now oops except there’s a twist this time around

A/N: hello! This is part of my Only for You (OFY) Drabble series, but it can be read as a stand-alone! However, I would highly recommend reading OFY beforehand so as to better understand the relationships between these characters since there’s a lot of history behind everything that will make more sense. (I also mentioned this in the post for OFY but for those who haven’t read it, the Kun in the story isn’t referring to any other irl person specifically, it was just a name I chose to make the initial story easier to write.)

The POV switches between the reader and a few of the characters, but this will always be indicated by the name in the switch being bolded (i.e. you or Jungkook will be in bold, etc.).

I always do this but thank you to @dntaewithluv​ for keeping me sane during the writing process and giving me feedback as well as the motivation to continue when I feel discouraged, I love you so much 💜

I’ve written a few other drabbles and will list them below, along with a general timeline:

Use My Best Colors For Your Portrait - ~6 months after OFY

When I Dream Of You - ~1 year after OFY

This fic takes place a few months after the dream drabble. I welcome feedback, so if you ever want to talk to me about my writing, please do! I hope that if you read this, you enjoy it~

➥OFY Spotify Playlist (songs I listened to for inspo)

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn @diorkookie @swee3tcreature​ @sugaslittlekookies​ @moonchild1​ @bangtanhome​ 

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Visiting Jungkook at the bar during his shifts had become one of your favorite pastimes over the last few years. And not just because you got to see him, but also because it gave you a chance to get closer to some of his - and now your - friends as well.

Take tonight for example: you stopped by on your way home from work, and everything happened like it usually did. Jungkook’s smile was typically the first thing to greet you when you walked through the door before he and Jimin got into a playful bickering match about bar duties.

You parked yourself in your usual stool at the bar and watched the scene before you unfold - Jimin tossing one of the bar towels to Jungkook, who caught it with ease, all the while mumbling ‘less distraction and more action, Kook.’ Jungkook slung the towel over his shoulder before making a big show out of walking over to you.

“Hey pretty lady, what can I get for you tonight?” Jungkook’s voice was dripping with charm and it made you giggle. He leaned across the bar, resting his forearms on the wood. Even when he was just standing here in a plain black t-shirt with his dark hair curling in front of his eyes you still thought he was the most ethereal person you’d ever seen.

You hummed. “Hmm, I think I’ll have just a water, thanks.” Jungkook was already moving to fix your beverage before you even finished. “Do you always greet people like this,” you teased him as he sat the glass down in front of you.

He was wiping his hands on the towel still perched on his shoulder. “Nah, I only save it for the special ones. I am a married man, after all.”

You giggled again and he reached further across the bar to give you a quick kiss before being interrupted by Jimin again.

“You two are adorable, I love that, but I really could use some help over here, Kook!”

Jungkook playfully rolled his eyes before he excused himself to tend to his actual job. You just sat and observed while you drank, looking at him with loving eyes. He was really in his element here and it showed. All his customers were always happy patrons because he treated them all well.

Yeah, everything was playing out as it normally did on nights like these.

What you weren’t expecting, however, was for that to change.

On your way to find Yoongi so you could stop by and chat with him before heading home, you passed by a booth where a few rowdy men were seated. You tried to slip past them and pay them no mind-

-until one of them caught you by the wrist.

You froze. You wondered if maybe this was someone you knew and had possibly offended by not saying hello, but one look at the table let you know you’d never seen these 3 men before in your life.

“Hey, where you off to in a rush, baby?” The pet name made your skin crawl and you wanted nothing more than to just slink away and pretend like this never happened. But it was happening, the man’s tight grip on your wrist a reminder of that.

One of the other booth members spoke up. “Yeah, why not have a seat with us and talk for a bit? You look like you’re in need of some company.”

You shook your head and tried to muster a small smile so you could turn them down easy. You’d read and heard way too often about moments like these that could turn out badly if you acted a certain way.

“No thank you, I was just on my way out,” you hoped that would be the end of it, but the man holding your wrist wasn’t having it. He jerked you down to where you were seated right beside him in the empty space of the booth, making you whimper in pain when you hit the seat hard. His other friends laughed boisterously at your distress.

You situated yourself and looked up to see if you could spot someone, anyone around that you knew. You were unfortunately at the back corner of the bar, since Yoongi’s office was around here.

You tried to get up and make a break for it, but the man pulled you down again. “C’mon sweetheart, we don’t wanna hurt you. We just wanna talk, that’s all.”

Before you could respond, another voice cut through.

“Hands off,” the voice was low and stern, making all heads at the booth turn. When you looked up you saw Hoseok standing above you, arms crossed and looking pissed.

“Hoseok,” you breathed out, grateful that he was working the floor tonight and had stopped by before the situation escalated.

Hoseok didn’t say another word as his eyes drifted down to you quickly before glaring at the man still holding on to you.

“Lighten up, man, we’re just trying to have some fun-”

“I saw the whole thing and she’s clearly not wanting to engage in your idea of ‘fun’ so again: hands off.” Hoseok’s fingers flexed around his forearm, and apparently that was all the warning they needed.

The man let go of you and shoved you away from him, almost making you fall to the ground if Hoseok hadn’t steadied you. He wrapped an arm around you before calling out.

“Joon, Jin, need a hand here!”

Within seconds, the bodyguards of the establishment - also friends of yours - were at the table, looking as intimidating as ever. The 3 men still seated were starting to look a lot less pleased about the ordeal.

“I think these 3 have had it for the night,” Hoseok stated, starting to walk the both of you away so your friends could work their magic. You looked back at them one last time, just barely catching their interaction, which consisted of Seokjin promptly putting one of the men in his place when he tried to throw a punch.

When Hoseok had you seated in an empty booth at the other end of the bar, he knelt down beside you.

“Hey. You ok?” His voice had lost all its frightening timbre, now laced with nothing but concern. You didn’t realize you were still a little shaky until you noticed yourself trembling. You nodded, the best answer you could give right now.

Hoseok patted your knee before he stood up. “Stay here, I’m going to go get Kook-”

You reached out lightning fast to grab onto his sleeve before you pleaded “Don’t.”

Hoseok’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What, why not?”

“I don’t- I don’t want him to worry.” You were telling the truth; Jungkook had been on edge lately, and things were finally starting to get somewhat back to normal. If you didn’t have to add to that worry, you didn’t want to.

Hoseok’s frown deepened. “Y/N-”

“There you are!”

That voice that always managed to make your heart flutter only made you panic more in this instance. Jungkook was walking over to your booth quickly with a huge smile on his face, waving to the two of you. Hoseok moved out of the way so Jungkook could see you more, and you tried your best to smile back.

“Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Jungkook addressed you as he pushed his hair out of his face. “I thought you went to go talk to Yoongi, but he said he hadn’t seen you yet.”

“Yeah, I was just on my way, but I ran into Hoseok-”

“Y/N,” Hoseok warned. Jungkook’s smile turned into one of confusion.

“What’s going on,” Jungkook was quick to ask before you could respond. It was then that he fully noticed how you were seated, somewhat curled into yourself.

“You need to tell him,” Hoseok’s eyes were burning into yours, and Jungkook felt a small pit of unease settle in his stomach. He knelt down beside you, similar to how Hoseok had done moments prior.

“Angel, hey, talk to me. What’s this about?” Jungkook took one of your hands in his and shook it slightly before placing a kiss on the back of it.

“It’s nothing, really-”

“Some guy put his hands on her.” Hoseok clearly was over you beating around the bush.

“What,” Jungkook’s tone was slipping into one you didn’t recognize and for good reason: he sounded furious. His hand tightened around yours.

Hoseok nodded, Jungkook’s attention on him now. “Yeah, I’m glad I noticed. Saw some dude grab her wrist and pull her down into the booth with them.”

Jungkook was up on his feet, hand disappearing from yours.

“What the fuck, where did they go,” he started to walk off but Hoseok held him back.

“Joon and Jin already took care of it, don’t worry. But I still just thought you should know.” Hoseok patted Jungkook on the shoulder and you watched as his body, still visibly tense, relaxed somewhat.

“I gotta get back to work, you can take a little time though, yeah?” Hoseok started walking off after giving you one last look, almost as if he was saying sorry but you knew he did the right thing.

Jungkook took a deep breath before finally looking back at you, his face softening instantly. He slid into the seat across from you, placing his palms on the table as he looked down.

“Koo-”

“Are you ok, at least,” his voice was low, but you could still hear it just over the faint tunes of the jukebox.

“I’m fine-”

“Define fine,” he scoffed. It was clear the two of you wouldn’t get anywhere like this, so you did the only thing you could think to do: you reached out and took both his hands in yours.

Jungkook looked up then through the curtain of tresses still falling into his eyes. He sighed.

“Sorry, baby, I know I shouldn’t be acting like this. It’s just- with everything we’ve been through with him I can’t help but worry about stuff like this.”

You understood completely because you were in the same boat.

Both of you had recently been experiencing less than pleasant encounters with your ex-fiancé, Kun, who for some reason decided he had a vendetta against the two of you. A vendetta that only got worse when you both made it clear you wanted nothing to do with him ever again.

The past week had been pretty quiet, but neither of you could shake the awful feeling that Kun wasn’t gone for good. And tonight’s fiasco did nothing to help that.

“Well it’s over now and I’m ok and I didn’t get hurt so let’s try not to focus on it, yeah?” You squeezed his hands for emphasis and he sighed. The last thing you wanted was for Jungkook to be worried the rest of his shift, and he still had a few hours left.

“Yeah, I’ll try. I’m just so glad Hoseok was around...are you still wanting to talk to Yoongi?”

You nodded, happy to see Jungkook had relaxed some more from when he first sat across from you.

“I’ll take you to his office, then.” Jungkook got up, pulling you with him since his hands were still in yours. When you both were standing, he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you into a hug.

He looked down at you before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Also I hate to ask but do you mind staying until I get done with my shift? I’m not too keen on the idea of you going home alone now with everything-“

You giggled and caressed his cheek. “Of course, Koo. I’ll come sit at the bar when I get done talking to Yoongi.”

Jungkook brushed his nose against yours. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” you responded before you reached up to place a gentle kiss on his lips. His hold around you tightened, and he deepened the kiss for only a moment before pulling back.

“Fuck, I forgot I’m at work, I need to be careful when you’re around.” He carded a hand through his hair before shaking his head to let it fall back into place.

You laughed at his flustered nature, feeling a bit flustered yourself at the fact that even now you still had such an effect on each other. “Well we are back here in a dark corner where not many people are around,” you teased.

Jungkook smirked before tickling your sides, making you laugh louder as you squirmed to get away.

“Don’t tempt me. I’d rather not get fired for public indecency if I can help it.”

“Fine, fine, I guess just take me to see Yoongi then,” you pretended to pout and were rewarded with a chuckle. He led you to the back now where Yoongi’s office was at, his hand wrapped around yours while he scanned the bar the whole way there.

When the two of you reached the familiar door, Jungkook gave your hand one last squeeze and kissed your cheek.

“I’ve gotta get back to the bar, just come chill up there when you’re done, yeah?” His eyebrows were slightly furrowed like he was still worried, but your gentle smile helped smooth them out.

“Of course. I’ll see you soon.”

You knocked on the door and after hearing Yoongi’s muffled greeting you opened it to walk through, not sparing another glance at Jungkook.

“Y/N! I was wondering when you might be stopping by.” Yoongi smiled brightly at you, always making you feel welcome no matter the circumstance. You took a seat in your usual spot across from his desk where he was currently reclining in his chair.

“Hey, Yoon. How are things?” It’d been a little while since the two of you had properly caught up since things had been so chaotic lately.

Yoongi shrugged. “Can’t complain. Business is good and we’ve been pulling in more regulars. I’d like to say it’s thanks to Jungkook but don’t tell him I told you that. Kid has a big enough head as it is.”

You couldn’t help the proud grin that stretched across your face. Jungkook had been working hard to help turn the bar into a more welcoming environment and increased his work hours to also assist with some building upgrades Yoongi had been wanting to install for years. Their business had increased exponentially as a result, so you knew Yoongi meant it when he said he had Jungkook to thank.

“I’ll be sure to keep it our little secret,” you brought your hand up to mimic a ‘shh’ expression and Yoongi chuckled.

“Perfect.” He leaned forward then, an elbow resting on his desk and his head supported by his palm. “So tell me: how’s married life?”

“It’s everything I could ever want and more. I can’t say much has changed except the whole ‘legally being bound together’ thing, since we still act the same. It’s just…nice. Really, really nice.” Your gaze drifted down to your wedding ring, and as it was with every other time you saw it, you could feel something akin to butterflies fluttering inside your stomach.

Yoongi gave you his trademark lopsided grin. “Glad to hear it. You know, I was always rooting for you two from the start.”

You feigned annoyance, playfully rolling your eyes. “I know, I know, you only tell me every chance you get.” Yoongi never took a liking to your ex-fiancé and had always favored Jungkook, this much you knew. Even before Kun turned into the person he was now, Yoongi never cared for him. And he made sure it was known.

“Have you thought about when you’re going to pop the question?” You decided to switch gears and put him on the spot, giggling at the way he seemed flustered.

“Well I uh, I’ve thought about it I just- it’s hard to figure out the right time, you know? And is she even ready for that, I can’t tell-”

“Min Yoongi, you stop that right now. She is so in love with you that I bet she’s ready for you to ask any day now, just so she can say yes like she’s been wanting to for so long now.” You had spent enough time around Yoongi and his long-term partner to know that the two were head-over-heels for each other, nearly rivaling you and Jungkook in how easy it was to tell.

Yoongi grinned. “You think so, huh?”

“No doubt in my mind. In fact-” you were cut off by the feeling of your phone vibrating in your pocket. You hastily took it out, not sure who could be calling at this hour.

It dawned on you then that you had been expecting a new client to call, and the number on your screen was one you didn’t recognize so you figured it could be them. Your boss had heavily expressed the importance of this client and their business venture they were offering, so without giving it another thought you hopped out of your chair.

“Sorry Yoon, I need to take this real quick. Do you mind if I step out the back door? It shouldn’t take too long.” You were already heading to leave his office, trying to catch the call before it stopped ringing, barely missing his soft “Go ahead.”

You bolted through the back door of the establishment, out into the dimly lit parking lot. As soon as you heard the door shut, you swiftly answered the call.

“Hello, this is Y/N speaking, may I ask who’s calling?” You gave your usual greeting for work related or other conversations when you didn’t recognize the number. The silence that you were met with on the other end made a chill run down your spine.

You froze altogether when the other voice spoke.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to answer calls from numbers you don’t know?”

You felt your lower lip tremble. “K-Kun?”

A dark chuckle from the other end of the line. “Missed me, sweetheart?”

‘Just hang up,’ your brain was screaming at you, but you were holding your phone in an iron-tight grip, knuckles taut.

“Leave me alone and never contact me again,” you were finally able to respond, moving your arm to bring your phone down to hang up.

Your phone hit the ground before you got the chance.

Someone had come up behind you and pulled both arms behind your back, a hand coming around to muffle the scream you let out.

“Shhh,” someone whispered beside your ear. “You don’t want to make this harder for yourself, hm?”

That voice, why did you recognize that voice?

The person started dragging you off into one of the darker corners of the parking lot, ignoring your futile attempts to kick and writhe out of their grasp. You continued screaming into their palm but to no avail.

When you reached where they wanted you to be, they let you go and pushed you down onto the ground, causing your back to hit the wall and briefly knock the breath out of you. Before you could pick yourself back up, 2 other shadowy figures blocked your path. There was just enough light for you to finally make out the faces of the 3 people standing over you.

They were the same ones from earlier in the bar, the ones who had harassed you and yanked you down into their booth.

“What do you want,” you sobbed out into the night air. You were too terrified to try screaming again, afraid of what they might do. Especially now that you were across the lot, away from your phone and any chance of contacting someone else. Not to mention the fact that it was loud inside the bar, so screaming wouldn’t do you many favors anyway.

And if someone walked by, nothing would look out of the ordinary since it was just dark enough where you were to obscure the vision of anyone looking from the outside.

Before any of them could answer you, there was another sound you heard faintly in the distance: footsteps.

“Hel-,” you started to cry out, but as if they knew what you were planning, one of the men dropped down and covered your mouth again, now letting you see who was approaching behind them. Your eyes widened in terror as you took in the newcomer’s sinister grin.

You watched as Kun nodded to the other 2 men and they moved aside, while the third one still keeping your mouth covered moved slightly out of the way. Kun knelt down and moved his hand, replacing it with his own before you could scream again.

“Well well, fancy seeing you here.” Kun reached out and caressed your check with the back of his other hand, making you let out a strangled whimper as you tried to move back and away from him. He shook his head at your action and grabbed onto one of your arms now instead, pulling you and himself up in a swift motion.

His grip around your arm was painful, making you wince. Kun either didn’t notice or didn’t care. One look into his eyes was enough to see that the man you’d spent many years of your life with was completely gone with no trace left whatsoever. You didn’t know this person standing in front of you now.

And you didn’t ever want to.

“Now, I’m gonna move my hand, and you’re not gonna scream. Got it? Because if you do,” he moved forward to where his face was inches away from yours now. “I promise this will be so much worse for you. And you know I always keep my promises, don’t you?”

Kun was laughing before you could react at all, knowing good and well he’d broken several promises during your time together. He must have taken your silence as compliance because you could feel his hand relaxing around your face.

“Good girl,” the words made you shudder repulsively, wanting nothing more than for this to be just a terrible figment of your imagination and for you to be back inside at the bar waiting on Jungkook.

Jungkook. The thought of him caused a lump to form in your throat. You had no idea what Kun had planned for you, and that caused your heart to constrict as the vision of Jungkook smiling lovingly at you flashed through your mind.

You squeezed your eyes shut and felt a tear roll down your cheek. You opened them again once you felt Kun’s hand disappear.

“Ah, so you can take direction well. I guess Jungkook’s trained you somewhat since you’re his bitch now-”

“What do you want,” you asked through gritted teeth. The last thing you wanted to hear come from this man’s mouth was the name of your beloved. You didn’t want him brought up at all, the less this was focused on Jungkook the better.

But, since it was Kun, that obviously didn’t happen.

Kun laughed again, a loud, ugly sound. “What do I want? The same thing I’ve always wanted. Isn’t it obvious?”

The 3 men were crowded around both of you now, and it dawned on you then that they were blocking any means of escape for you. That didn’t bode well for you and you knew it, but you held your ground. You didn’t want to give Kun any more of the upper hand than he already had.

Kun finally dropped his other hand from your arm in favor of now caging you in against the wall. You were trapped even more now, but you just stared back at him, trying your best to look unfazed. Kun dipped his head down and you held your breath.

“What I want,” you could feel him barely hovering over your lips and the feeling made your skin crawl, “is for Jungkook to pay.”

“Pay for what,” you couldn’t help your annoyed tone. Kun’s obsession with Jungkook and ‘coming out on top’ – whatever that even meant, you weren’t entirely sure – had gotten old and you were beyond sick of it. “He owes you nothing, we owe you nothing.”

Kun hummed and shook his head, his nose almost brushing against yours, but you turned your head and let it graze against your cheek.

”I don’t think you get to decide that, not in the position you’re in, anyway. You see, I’m tired of seeing Jungkook get literally everything handed to him without trying-”

“Jungkook has worked hard for everything he has, something you wouldn’t know about,” you spat back. Kun was right, you were certainly in no position to be talking back right now, but you wouldn’t stand idly by while he slandered Jungkook just because he felt like it. “You’ve always been jealous of him-”

“Shut up, shut up!” Kun snarled, all but yelling in your face before he grabbed you by the jaw. You grimaced from the pain of it, a sound something like a scream starting but dying in your throat.

“You fucking infuriate me sometimes, you know that? I can’t believe I wasted so many years with you.” His grip around your jaw tightened as he finished talking, making it almost too hard for you to respond.

“Likewise,” you managed to get out, not being able to help the sob you let out when he squeezed more.

“Doesn’t matter.” Kun’s face stretched into that evil, Cheshire-like grin and for the first time that night you felt genuinely horrified about what his true intentions might be. “I’m not concerned with you or how you feel.”

Kun finally let go of your jaw and you let out the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in. He grabbed one of your wrists and tugged you closer, knocking you off balance and unfortunately causing you to brace yourself against his chest.

He hugged you to him and whispered in your ear: “What I do care about is seeing Jungkook’s reaction when his precious wife is suddenly nowhere to be found.”

That kicked you into fight or flight mode, eyes widening and mouth opening to scream as you flailed your hands around. Your flailing did little to help you because Kun was already dragging you alongside him away from the wall, still holding you close.

“Let me go, you psycho!” you screamed, only causing him to turn you around and put a hand over your mouth again while his other arm held you firm against his torso.

“One of you bring the car around,” Kun ordered, and you saw one of the men dashing away. As you were pulled further away from the bar, your vision was clouded with a film of tears and your muffled sobs were hidden behind Kun’s hand. You were no match for his strength, and he proved it because he was literally dragging you across the concrete despite you being so uncooperative. Gentle raindrops had just started falling from the sky, further impairing your vision.

It was then that you heard a pained grunt followed by a thud coming from a little further away, in the direction the other man had ran off to. You tried to focus your eyes to see what was happening when the next sound that graced your ears was fast footsteps as they pounded against the pavement.

“Get your fucking hands off of her!”

A familiar voice made you cry out with joy and fight harder against Kun.

“Yoongi,” you cried out, still muffled but enough to draw his attention to your face now. He was running toward Kun fast, and when he saw the position you were in, he sped up, determined to free you by any means necessary.

You briefly worried about the other men behind him, until you saw that another was already knocked down and someone else – you thought it might be Jimin – was currently fighting with the third man. While your attention was on them, you didn’t register Kun tossing you aside until it was too late.

You slipped on the now wet pavement and fell down, barely able to brace yourself for the impact in time. Your earlier vision of Jungkook smiling was the last thing to flash through your mind before your head hit the ground.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Yoongi glanced at his watch for the second time. It’d been about 10 minutes since you stepped outside to take your phone call, and he figured it had to have been important if you were still outside.

As he was wondering whether or not to call you himself to see if everything was alright, Jimin stuck his head inside the office, peeking around the door. “Hey boss, is Y/N around?”

Yoongi sat up straight. “Yeah, she stepped outside to take a call but it’s been a few minutes. Why?”

Jimin’s face blanched. “She went alone?”

“Yeah... Jimin’s what’s going on?”

Jimin took a deep breath. “It’s probably nothing, but earlier there were some guys that straight up harassed her. They were thrown out but-“

Yoongi held a hand up. “Wait. Pause. Someone harassed her? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

Jimin had stepped fully into the room now, rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked at the ground. “Well it wasn’t that long ago, so maybe nobody had the chance yet.”

Yoongi’s brows furrowed. “Does Jungkook know?”

Jimin nodded. “Yeah, he’s the one who asked me to come check on her without being too obvious about it. I think the whole thing has him spooked.”

Yoongi didn’t like the feeling that was slowly creeping up on him. He dialed your number and put the receiver to his ear, hoping to hear a busy signal on the other end.

When he was met with a series of rings, his heart started beating faster. He was up and out of his chair fully by the time he heard your voicemail greeting.

“Fuck,” he mumbled out loud to no one in particular. He was jogging over to the back door, a confused Jimin following close behind.

“Yoongi, what-”

“Not now, Jimin.” He picked up his pace, feeling his chest tighten as he approached the door. He was hoping that when he opened it you would be on the other side, because maybe you just lost track of time and your phone was on silent.

Wishful thinking helps in times of peril, right?

Yoongi pushed the door open quickly, letting it bang against the side of the bar. You were nowhere in sight, his eyes frantically searching through the lot for a trace of you.

What he was met with, though, was instead the sight of 3 - maybe 4? - dark figures across the lot, huddled in a suspicious way. His heart dropped to his stomach.

He started running, not knowing what would meet him when he did, but not caring either. As he approached, one of the figures tried to block him. He took them down easily with a single punch, making them groan in pain as their body connected with the ground. Yoongi never stopped running for even a moment.

His heart wrenched when his vision finally adjusted enough to the darkness outside and he could see you and exactly who was holding you.

“Get your fucking hands off of her!” He shouted as he continued running, getting ready to barrel into Kun at any moment.

Hearing your faint cry of his name only made him go faster when his eyes landed on your horrified face.

It was raining now but Yoongi wouldn’t let that stop him from saving you. What he didn’t anticipate was for Kun to throw you in the opposite direction, making him conflicted about who to go after now. He settled for pursuing Kun still, finally reaching him and grabbing him by the shirt.

“What the actual fuck is your problem,” Yoongi yelled in Kun’s face. Kun brought his hands up to try and tear Yoongi’s away, but they wouldn’t budge.

Kun stopped trying to fight back and smiled at Yoongi, making a fresh wave of disgust cascade over him. When Kun spoke, his voice had a calm edge to it. “I’ll just keep coming back, no matter how many times you and those idiots in there,” he jerked his head in the direction of the bar, “try to keep me away.”

Yoongi quickly spun Kun around and forced him to the ground, keeping his hands behind his back and not giving him a way to escape. “Jimin, call the cops,” he called over his shoulder before leaning closer to Kun’s face. “We may not be able to keep you away, but they certainly can with all the dirt we have on you.”

Kun chuckled slightly before grimacing when Yoongi twisted his arm further. “You know,” he huffed out, “Y/N was pretty off balance when I threw her earlier.”

Yoongi stilled. He realized that Kun was trying to distract him by making him worry about you, and unfortunately for Yoongi it was working. Especially when his eyes fell on your unmoving figure several feet away, lying on your side.

“Shit,” he jumped up and ran over to you, completely abandoning Kun, beyond caring at that point. He knelt down and turned you over. He swallowed when he saw the way your arm landed limply on the ground beside him. He embraced your upper body within his arms, shaking you a little.

“Y/N, hey, wake up,” he begged. He could feel that you were still breathing, but it was very evident your fall had knocked you out. And Yoongi knew there was no telling what happened before he even got to you, so he had no clue how injured you might actually be.

He heard footsteps approaching from behind him, splashing against the puddles that were starting to form in the parking lot. He didn’t have to look up to know it was Jimin, since the other man was calling out his name before he got there.

“Yoongi, I called them, they said – wait where did he go?” Jimin was standing over Yoongi now, looking from one area of the parking lot to the other, but Kun was nowhere in sight. “Did you let him leave?”

Yoongi’s silence prompted Jimin to finally look down and his mouth dropped open as he himself dropped to kneel next to Yoongi.

“Holy shit, what happened,” Jimin reached out to gingerly touch your arm, frown deepening when he got no response from you.

“She probably hit her head when that bastard threw her earlier. She’s just knocked out, I think,” Yoongi’s voice was lined with unbridled anger. “Go see if you can find Jin since he’s the closest thing we have to a medic right now. And get Kook.”

Jimin nodded and without another word took off toward the bar. Yoongi couldn’t fathom how Jungkook would react but he knew it wouldn’t be good. As he waited, he held you closer, trying to shield you from the rain.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Jungkook’s fingers were drumming against the bar absentmindedly as he listened to one of his regular patrons drone on about their week as they usually did on nights like tonight. He was genuinely trying to focus on what they were saying, truly he was, but his mind had been so muddled ever since the incident earlier that he found it hard to think about anything else.

Which is exactly why he had asked Jimin to casually check in on you and Yoongi.

It’d been a few minutes and Jimin still wasn’t back; Jungkook hoped that they were all 3 chatting and Jimin was just taking his time. He did want him to be inconspicuous about it, after all.

His patron finally excused themselves to go to the restroom, and Jungkook offered them a soft smile. For a second, he allowed himself to take a deep breath and try to push any lingering negative thoughts out of his mind so he could make it through the rest of his shift.

Jungkook should’ve known better than to hope for a moment’s peace.

He heard Jimin before he saw him, colliding with the other end of the bar. Jungkook cautiously started walking over to him, trying to ignore the heavy feeling that settled over his body like a suffocating blanket.

“Kook,” Jimin panted, “we need you. Now.”

The expression on Jimin’s face and the urgency of his voice made Jungkook’s blood run cold. He wasted no time in leaving the bar as he followed Jimin, nearly running him over when Jimin stopped once they were outside. As his sight adjusted to the drizzling rain, he saw something that made him run as fast as he could before eventually falling to his knees, panic seizing his heart.

“No. No no no no no,” Jungkook was chanting over and over as he stared at you, huddled against Yoongi as he held you close. Your eyes were closed and you weren’t moving.

Jungkook’s hands were shaking, and he could feel his lips quivering. Yoongi stared at Jungkook somberly before gentle passing you over to him.

He immediately drew you to him, burying your face in his chest while he cradled the back of your head with his palm.

The rain started pouring down harder now and he knew it was pelting against his back, cold and wet enough to chill him to the bone. But Jungkook felt nothing. There was nothing but numbness as he continued to rock you gently in his arms and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Hey angel, I’m here,” his voice was unsteady. “It’s me, baby, I’ve got you. You’re gonna be ok,” his arm that was wrapped around your back tightened its hold on you and he placed his head in the crook of your neck. You still didn’t rouse, no matter what he tried, and his shoulders started to shake.

“Kook-” Yoongi had to talk loud to be heard over the sudden downpour. “We need to get her inside.” He tried reaching out to touch Jungkook’s arm but Jungkook flinched away, embracing you even tighter now as if he was trying to protect you from anything and everything.

He just wanted to protect you. And the fact that he had failed was currently eating him alive with regret.

Yoongi sighed but tried again. “Jungkook,” he said it softer this time but still loud enough, “let’s take her inside. You don’t want her to get sick.”

At the mention of your well-being potentially suffering further damage, Jungkook started to somewhat come back to his senses. He held you tight and stood up with a little help from Yoongi, making sure to keep you as close to his chest as possible so you wouldn’t get soaked and because right now, he needed you near.

When the 3 of you were inside, Yoongi ushered you all into his office since there was a small couch in there were you could lie down. Jungkook placed you as gently as possible on the couch, feeling his heart break piece by piece every second you remained unmoving. The only thing that could offer him solace was the faint rise and fall of your chest as you breathed.

He dropped to sit on the floor beside the couch, holding one of your hands in his while he used his other one to brush some of your wet hair out of your face. He leaned his forehead against the arm of the couch and inhaled shakily.

Yoongi was leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, looking at the two of you. Jungkook appreciated Yoongi for giving him time to try and calm down before talking again.

“What happened,” Jungkook managed to croak after a minute or so had passed.

Yoongi took a deep breath. “Kun was here.”

Jungkook whipped his head around fast, his hair splaying water droplets on the couch. His eyes were glazed over with unshed tears, and Yoongi had never seen him look so angry.

He’d never seen Jungkook look so hurt.

“Kun did this to her,” Jungkook asked, tone low and dark, but it came out more as a statement because he already knew. He could tell by the angered inflection in Yoongi’s voice when he mentioned Kun.

Yoongi nodded. “Unfortunately. When I first made it outside, he was holding onto her, dragging her away-”

“Dragging her where,” his hand that was holding yours involuntarily squeezed harder.

Yoongi shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know, it looked like he was trying to take her to a car…”

Jungkook didn’t miss the way he trailed off. He waited for Yoongi to collect his thoughts.

 “Jungkook, I- I think he may have been trying to abduct her.”

Jungkook felt like the room had suddenly tilted. The idea of that – God, the idea of anything remotely close to that – made him feel violently ill.

He looked at your face then, noticing how it wasn’t scrunched up in pain; you actually looked quite peaceful despite the circumstances, almost like you were simply in a deep slumber. He tried hard to swallow around the ever-growing lump that was still forming in his throat when he brushed his fingertips along the length of your arm.

You were here, physically here. He could see you and he could touch you. Yoongi had saved you in time before you had been whisked away to who knows where. The fact that Kun had even dared to try to take you away… the possibility of you being gone and Jungkook not knowing where you had been taken to or if he’d ever see you again-

It made Jungkook see red.

This isn’t the life he wanted for you. He never wanted you to have to look over your shoulder in fear at the idea of someone following you, like you’d been doing the last several weeks. He never ever wanted you to get hurt, especially in such a way as this.

He could feel anger flowing through his veins, seeping into his bones and consuming him, with the only thing able to ground him right now being the feeling of your soft hand enveloped by his own.

Yoongi was saying more but Jungkook couldn’t make it out over his own voice screaming at him inside his head. His mind was waging a war with itself, questioning so many things-

Was he really the best person for you?

Was there someone out there who could protect you, who could keep you safe in ways he couldn’t?

…

Would loving you be enough if he could never fully promise you peace?

What if-

“Jungkook,” Yoongi’s stern voice cut through the thick fog of his mind and Jungkook shook his head to try clear it completely. He focused his attention on his friend that was now staring at him, sporting a frown on his face full of concern.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

Jungkook gulped. “Honestly? No.”

Yoongi’s frown intensified. “Kook-”

“Don’t, just- please repeat it. Please.”

Yoongi sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before he continued. “I was saying that Kun threw her to the ground and that’s how she hit her head.”

Jungkook’s unoccupied hand balled into a fist and he clenched his jaw. Yoongi could see him tense up but continued speaking.

“I asked Jimin to fetch Jin seeing as he’s had more medical training than any of us and I figured it’d be better than waiting on an ambulance.”

He had barely gotten the last word out before there was hurried knocking on the door. Yoongi walked over to the door quickly to open it, and Jin rushed in without a moment’s hesitation.

“Sorry it took so long, I needed to get supplies.” He made his way to the couch, crouching down in front of it next to Jungkook. He placed the bag he was carrying down onto the ground beside him as he started sifting through it to find other things he needed. Jungkook watched Jin without really seeing him, flinching a little when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Kook,” Yoongi said softly as Jungkook looked up at him. “We need to let Jin look at her. C’mon,” he patted his shoulder before walking away, and Jungkook knew Yoongi expected him to follow him.

Jungkook also knew Yoongi was right, and he needed to let Jin get to work. He hated the thought of leaving you, but he knew he wasn’t going far. In fact, he wasn’t even going to leave the room, and if he was encouraged to, well-

There wasn’t anything anyone could do to make him leave that room short of physically removing him themselves. And with how wound up Jungkook was about this entire situation, that wouldn’t be an easy feat by any means.

Thankfully, Yoongi didn’t ask him to leave, opting instead to offer him his office chair. Jungkook graciously accepted the offer and sat down, briefly observing how Jin carefully examined you from across the room before he placed his head in his hands.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Some time passed before Jungkook felt like he could properly breathe again. And he was only feeling like that now because you had finally started to stir.

As soon as the faintest noise was heard from you, Jungkook was out of his seat and in front of the couch again.

You groaned as you rubbed your eyes, trying to adjust to the light by blinking a few times. After doing this, you tilted your head to the side and your eyes landed on Jungkook. He inhaled sharply, feeling like he might break apart when you gave him the sweetest smile.

“Koo,” you breathed out softly as your hand reached up to caress his cheek. He vaguely heard Jin telling Yoongi something about you still having decent control over your motor skills being a good sign, but right now all his focus was on you specifically.

Well, he was also focusing on not having a breakdown, but you were most important.

His hand came up to cover yours that was still on his face and for the first time in what felt like ages, his lips curved upward into a smile.

“Hey, angel,” he responded. “How are you feeling?”

 Your eyebrows furrowed. “Well, my head hurts but otherwise I’m fine? A little sore, though-”

“That’s probably from your fall earlier,” Jin interrupted, pulling your attention back to him. You looked at him, bewildered.

“I fell? When did I fall?”

Yoongi and Jungkook shared a look then, and Jungkook would be lying if he said you not remembering what happened didn’t worry him.

It worried him a lot, actually.

Jin hummed. “We can talk about it later. I need to examine you now though, ok? Make sure you don’t have any signs of a concussion or something else.”

The scared look on your face made Jungkook’s chest tighten.

“O-ok, yeah, sure. Do whatever you need to,” you said as you tried to sit up straight, Jungkook and Jin both helping to steady you as you did.

It didn’t take long for Jin to conduct his examination. While he was checking you over, Yoongi relayed the events from earlier to you and Jungkook observed as the look in your eyes switched from one of confusion to one of horror the more Yoongi went on.

“I-I remember now. Right before you came out there, Kun told me-” you trailed off, speaking to Yoongi but looking over at Jungkook now. His heart started beating painfully when you paused.

“What did he tell you, baby?”

You inhaled unevenly, the sight tearing Jungkook up even more on the inside. “He told me that he wanted to see your reaction when I was nowhere to be found.”

This time, he swore his heart stopped.

So Kun had not only planned to take you away, but he wanted to make sure you couldn’t be found?

Jungkook made a promise to himself then and there that if he ever saw Kun again, he’d-

“Koo?”

Your pleading tone made Jungkook’s eyes snap back up to your face. You were trying to give him a small smile, but he could still see the fear lying behind your eyes.

“It’s going to be ok,” you attempted to reassure him. “Don’t worry.”

Jungkook had no idea how you could sit here an expect him not to worry but he didn’t want to fight you on it. You’d both had enough excitement for one night so all he did was nod and hope that would suffice for now.

His mind was starting to race again with the same kind of thoughts he had earlier, plaguing him with questions he didn’t know the answers to.

Frankly, he didn’t even know if he wanted the answers either.

Jin stood up from where he was seated on the floor, straightening himself up and stretching his long limbs. “She’s going to be fine. Just keep an eye on her for the next few days, but I don’t see anything to be alarmed about. If anything changes, you can call me but also if you’re more comfortable going to a hospital, that’s fine too. I won’t be offended.”

Jungkook smiled at his eldest friend. “Thank you, Jin. Seriously, thank you.”

Jin nodded, offering a warm smile to you before exiting the room.

Yoongi walked over to the couch and ruffled your hair. Jungkook watched the exchange with fondness, seeing two of the people he cared about most in the world also caring for each other.

“I’m so glad you’re ok,” Yoongi said, sounding utterly tired. You thanked him again for what he had done, and Jungkook left the two of you alone momentarily so he could check on Jimin and Hoseok at the bar. They entertained him for all of maybe 5 seconds before shooing him away, assuring him that they could handle things and that he should just take you home and be with you right now.

Jungkook thought nothing sounded better.

When he made it back to Yoongi’s office, he saw that you were now sitting on the armrest of the couch. Yoongi must have helped you get up from the couch, seeing as he was standing beside you, and Jungkook strode over to take his place now with an arm around your waist. Yoongi didn’t say anything about him leaving other than to wish you both a goodnight and that he would talk to Jungkook later.

Jungkook helped you walk to the car, not letting you go for even a fraction of a second, despite your teasing him about being able to walk on your own. Be that as it may, he still wouldn’t let go, because the truth of the matter was he was just too scared to.

It wasn’t until you were both in the car riding home that Jungkook let those negative thoughts devour him once more.

And this time, they were almost impossible to shake away.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

When both of you finally arrived home, Jungkook opened the door and surveyed the room before letting you go inside. You knew his paranoia was at an all-time high right now and frankly you couldn’t blame him; you were still really unsettled, too.

But you were more of the mindset that it’s in the past now and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. You never liked to dwell too long on things and Jungkook was becoming better about that as well.

You weren’t sure if it’d be that easy this time, though.

He’d barely said a word to you the whole ride home, and even now as you were both standing by the front door while he locked it, he was still eerily quiet. Once it was sufficiently locked enough by Jungkook’s standards, he gave you one last look before he started walking down the hallway. You frowned and followed him.

“Koo?”

No response.

“Baby? Talk to me.” It looked like he was trying to go to the kitchen, but it was still dark in the house since he’d barely turned on any of the lights, so you weren’t sure. Still no answer.

“Jungkook.” You called out sternly this time and just barely spotted him as he disappeared into the kitchen. When he heard you walk in, he finally spoke.

“You should eat something, what do you want?”

His voice broke your heart.

“I’m not hungry-”

“You can go lay down, Jin said you didn’t have a concussion so it should be fine. I can bring some food up for you.” He was leaning against the counter in front of the sink, his back turned to you and his head hanging somewhat.

He sounded not at all like himself, and it scared you. Not in the way that you were scared of him, but you were scared because you didn’t know what to do.

Talking was obviously getting you nowhere, so you instead walked up to him and wrapped your arms around him from behind, placing your cheek against his back. He flinched.

“Baby, please,” his voice sounded like it was breaking so you just held him tighter, hoping he could feel your love from the way you embraced him as if you never wanted to let him go.

“Koo, I need you to talk to me. I need to know what’s wrong-”

“What’s wrong is me,” he gritted out, tone louder than before and it made you jump. He then released himself from your arms and tried to walk away.

“Jungkook, wait,” you scrambled to go after him, catching him before he could disappear into another room, this time turning him around to face you. He was leaning against the wall and didn’t try to move past you anymore, but he avoided your gaze.

“Koo, look at me,” you stressed, ducking down to peek up at him. He finally raised his head so you could look into his eyes at a normal level. You noticed the tears in the corner of his eyes, and it nearly made you start crying yourself.

Jungkook never hid his vulnerability from you, he never hid anything from you. But even so, it was still a rare sight to see him cry.

“Why do you want to be around me right now,” he questioned, voice wavering and you recognized the sound. He was trying to hold himself back from crying.

“Koo, what do you mean, why wouldn’t I want to be around you? I love you-”

“I couldn’t protect you,” his voice rose in pitch, not to talk over you but because he was just so upset. “I couldn’t save you, I wasn’t around to help you- God, baby, you got fucking attacked and I wasn’t there.”

He was trembling and you tried to steady him by placing your hands on his shoulders. Tears were flowing freely down his cheeks now, and they were bound to start pooling in your own eyes any second.

“None of that is your fault,” you emphasized your words by squeezing his shoulders. “Ok? No one could have predicted what that psycho was gonna do, not you, not me, not Yoongi, nobody.”

“For fuck’s sake, he almost kidnapped you-”

“But he didn’t and I’m here.” You brushed his cheek to wipe some of the tears away and he choked back a sob. “I’m here, with you, and that’s what matters.”

“I could have lost you,” he said it just above a whisper as you moved to brush the tears away from his other cheek.

You blinked back your own tears. “You didn’t lose me.”

“But I could have. We have no idea what the fuck he’s capable of and just- every time I think about what might have happened if no one got to you in time, I start to lose my mind.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and reached up on your tip-toes to place a gentle kiss on his lips, heart lurching when he actually kissed you back and his hands found purchase on your waist as they usually did.

“You didn’t lose me. You have me. All of me. I’m right here,” you kissed him once more. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Jungkook let out a sob as he pulled you closer, nearly crushing you with his embrace. You ran your hand through his hair to try and soothe him when he leaned his forehead on your shoulder.

“I was so fucking scared,” he said against your skin. “So terrified. I love you so much,” a tender kiss was placed on the side of your neck now, and you could feel his lips still trembling.

“I love you,” your response prompted another small sob from him, “I love you more than anyone or anything else in this world and I’ll show you that everyday for the rest of my life, as long as you let me.”

“Baby-” Jungkook’s voice cracked with so much raw emotion and you couldn’t help yourself anymore. You were determined to show him your conviction behind your statement, so with your hand still buried in his hair, you pulled him down to your level once more as you crashed your lips together.

You’d never felt anything quite like the emotions that coursed through you every single time you kissed Jungkook. It didn’t matter if it was the cute good morning kisses upon waking up, the silly, laughter-filled ones that happened in the midst of playing around, or the intense ones bursting with passion that always led to something more. Each one was different and better than the last, and it was like a language between you both filled with unspoken words that demonstrated exactly what you felt.

This was one of the many ways the two of your expressed your devotion to one another, through an action as simple as kissing yet the feelings it always evoked inside of you were anything but. And even during times like tonight when you’d both endured something extremely emotional, you could still find comfort in each other through these gestures.

When you finally broke apart, you were both panting breathlessly, and Jungkook rested his forehead against yours.

“Sorry, baby,” Jungkook breathed, voice somewhat raspy. His fingers had started gripping your waist harder during the exchange, but you felt them start to loosen.

That was most definitely something you didn’t want, so you placed your hands on the sides of his face and looked him in the eyes.

“Koo,” you spoke softly, cautiously, as if you were testing the waters. “Can I give you all of me?”

His eyes sparkled with the realization of what you were implying, and for a moment you wondered if he would reject you. And if he did, that would be completely fine with you because his comfort mattered most of all to you right now, as it always did. Tonight had been a lot to deal with and you weren’t sure what mindset he would be in about this sort of thing-

That thought remained unfinished in your mind as Jungkook captured your lips again and all other rational thought went out the window. All you could focus on now was how Jungkook’s body felt melded up against yours, how his mouth was exploring yours like he’d done so many times before, how his fingers dug into your skin like he was afraid to let you go.

You jumped up and Jungkook wrapped your legs around his waist, never breaking the kiss while he turned you around so that your back was against the wall. You heard a low groan come from him as you intensified the kiss before he pulled away.

“Angel, are you sure about this?” He was holding you up with help from the wall, hands placed on your thighs just underneath your ass. Your hand was playing with the hair at the nape of his neck since you knew how much he loved that. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you-”

“Koo, I’m fine. I feel fine and I’m not in pain. I promise. I want this. I want you,” you gave him another searing kiss that you felt yourself melting into. “But only if you want it too.”

Jungkook’s next kiss knocked the breath out of you and he swallowed the surprised whimper you let out. “Of course, baby. I always want you.”

His words never failed to make you feel warm all over, with love and adoration as well as arousal. Right now, you were feeling all of these things as he situated your legs around his waist in a more comfortable position.

“Do you want to do this here,” he panted as his eyes met yours again. You could tell he was getting worked up just having you like this here against the wall, so you wasted no time answering him.

“Yes Koo, please,” you urged him to continue. “Wanna feel you close. Don’t wanna wait.”

“Fuck, I mean, I could take us upstairs-” his words ended with a grunt as you drew him closer by wrapping your legs tighter around him, making him grind against you. His head dipped down to rest against your shoulder as he let out shallow breaths, his fingers threatening to make indentations in your skin.

In a somewhat frenzied manner, Jungkook put you back down on your feet so the both of you could remove your clothes, too impatient to take everything off and only getting rid of what was necessary. When both of your lower halves were bare, he secured you around his waist once more, his length rapidly hardening against your now naked thigh.

You reached in between the two of you to wrap your hand around him, and the feeling was enough to have him inhaling sharply before he kissed you with a newfound urgency. You could tell by the way he was moaning against your mouth that your teasing caresses were working and within no time he was ready. You let out a stuttered moan when Jungkook’s long fingers disappeared inside of you so he could make sure you were stretched enough.

When he deemed you prepped enough – and when you started rocking against his fingers with impatient whimpers – he withdrew so he could line himself up with you. Your already soaked folds were threatening to pull him in, and it was almost too much for him to handle in his heightened emotional state.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, as he always did. The stretch made you lean your head back against the wall, his soft curses only spurring you on even more. On other nights you might would try to coax him to be a little rougher because you knew you could take it, but tonight you weren’t in a rush for anything, and neither was he. Tonight was about you two being together as one, relishing the way you shared this connection with each other and conveying it through this intimate act.

Both of you sighed in pleasure when Jungkook bottomed out, finally experiencing that complete closeness the two of you craved more than anything else right now. His hands gripped your ass firmly to start moving you up and down his length in slow, steady strokes. He didn’t want to take things fast or go hard tonight – he just wanted to enjoy this feeling, having you so close and yet still wanting to pull you impossibly closer.

The feeling of your warmth around him mixed with the tousling of your hands in his hair was driving him crazy. Every touch from you, no matter how small, always ignited something within him that he couldn’t explain. He was so unapologetically, wholeheartedly in love with you.

And he’d just come so close to losing you.

Pain twisted his heart as he stared at you, watching your face scrunch up in the most beautiful way. Your head was tilted back with your eyes crinkled shut while his name was falling from your lips in hushed whispers. Each thrust was pushing you further up the wall before he would bring you back down again, and your arms wound themselves around his neck to help anchor yourself further.

You looked ethereal, and Jungkook was trying so hard to focus on you and not the negative thoughts that were once again settling uncomfortably in his mind. His body was fighting itself on whether he should succumb to the pleasure he was feeling or if he should submit to the dark cloud blanketing his mind.

His change in demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by you.

Jungkook continued to move inside of you, keeping a consistent pace, but something wasn’t right. He was looking at you, but he wasn’t looking at you. He had a pained expression on his face, and that’s what kicked your own worry into gear.

“Koo, baby, hey what’s wrong?” You held his face in both of your hands and watched as he crumbled underneath your touch. He had slid his hands up to rest against your back now in an attempt to embrace you further, hands trapped in between you and the wall.

You almost started panicking when you saw the tears start to brim in his eyes again.

“I just-” he choked on a cry and your heart wrenched at the sound, “I can’t stop thinking about it.” He was still moving but his pace had slowed down to a near stop.

“Thinking about what?” You weren’t sure you wanted to know but you needed him to talk to you.

“Thinking about losing you, I can’t-”

His hands reached up higher to grasp onto your shirt you were still wearing, clenching the fabric in his fists as he dragged it down. You could feel the collar of the front of your shirt tightening around you while he hid his head in the crook of your neck and started to shake. You wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could and ran a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him.

“Please stay,” he whispered, almost too quiet for you to hear. “Please stay with me.”

“Koo-”

“I love you so much, I don’t want to lose you,” more sobs wracked through his body. He had otherwise stilled inside of you but made no effort to move away. “I can’t lose you, I-”

“Baby, look at me.”

Jungkook slowly brought his head up to face you, the sight making you want to break down yourself. He looked so defeated, so broken, and his eyes were shining with tears he didn’t bother hiding anymore.

You cradled his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs across his cheekbones before they travelled to trace along the curves of his jawline.

You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, listening as he tried to control his erratic breathing. “I won’t leave you.”

A soft kiss on his lips. “I’ll never leave you.”

You brushed his hair back from his face, and his eyes captivated you as they swirled with so much intense emotion.

“I promised you forever, and I intend to keep it. Nothing, and no one, is going to keep me from you. I love you too much to let that happen,” you granted him a sweet smile and brushed your thumb across his lower lip that had started to quiver. He sniffled as you continued.

“Do you remember our wedding vows?”

Jungkook swallowed as he nodded, seeming a little calmer now.

Your smile widened, and your own set of fresh tears had gathered in the corners of your eyes, ready to spill. “Remember how I told I would give you all of me? That I would give you the best of me?”

He nodded again, and your heart soared at the tiny smile he presented you with.

“I promised you those things. So, no matter what happens, I’ll never leave you. And with everything life throws as us from here on out, we’ll make it through together.”

His smile was widening into the familiar, bunny-like grin you knew and loved dearly. Your Jungkook was coming back to you, and it was almost like you could see the dark fog that had surrounded him evaporating before your very eyes.

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook.” You leaned up to tenderly press your lips to his once more, smiling into the kiss as he let out a content sigh. “You’re my person. My forever. Please always remember that.”

You had swept a long lock of hair back from his face as you finished your words, and while you were distracted with that, Jungkook stared at you like you hung the moon and all the stars.

Your declarations of love stirred something inside of him and it dawned on him then that he was still inside of you. This was made more evident when you shifted in his embrace, probably to make yourself more comfortable since you were still against the wall, but it caused your walls to clench around him.

He closed his eyes and groaned, the sound causing arousal to radiate throughout your body. The two of you clearly must have forgotten the position you were in but that was no longer the case when you felt him twitch inside of you.

“Fuck,” he moaned at the sight of you when he opened his eyes again, his hands letting go of your shirt in favor of settling on your waist. Your cheeks were still flushed, with drying tear stains running down them. You were panting softly and Jungkook’s heart felt like it might burst with all the love he had for you.

“I love you,” he declared while he brushed his nose with yours. “And I honestly cannot believe I forgot I was fucking you, like how does that even happen.”

You giggled, kissing the tip of his nose before you drew back to rest contentedly against the wall. “I’m not sure, but do you perhaps want to finish what we started?”

You moved your hips as best you could at your current angle, and it pushed his cock further inside you, making you both moan at the action. He captured one of your hands in his and brought it up to place a kiss on your knuckles.

“Will you still let me give you all of me,” you reiterated your phrase from earlier in the night before all of this started. Jungkook’s eyes had darkened now with lust and he gave you a sly smile.

“Always, baby,” was his response. “Question now though,” he leaned down to let his lips ghost along your neck, making you shiver, “is can you take all of me?”

You tugged on his hair for him to look up at you, making him hiss in the process. You gave him your best challenging stare, and hoped it was convincing.

“Always,” you copied him, “I can easily take anything you give me.”

Jungkook arched an eyebrow and you felt his length twitch at your words. “Is that so?

You barely had time to nod before he was pinning your hand that he was holding on the wall beside your head, his other one gripping your waist hard enough now you knew it would leave a mark.

He pulled out almost all the way before he thrusted back into you hard, making you whine embarrassingly loud. He chuckled dark and low then, squeezing your hand as he intertwined your fingers.

“Too much for you, angel?” Jungkook knew he couldn’t keep this up forever and that he’d eventually crack himself, but he never missed an opportunity to tease you like this. “Thought you said you could take everything I give you.”

You nodded vigorously, not an easy feat with your head leaning against the wall. “I can, I can take it,” you breathed out, clenching around him to try and persuade him to move again. He stuttered out a low moan, determined to not lose his composure just yet.

“Yeah? You sure? Does that mean you want more?” He was shallowly moving inside of you at a torturously slow pace, the drag of his cock against your walls pulling a loud noise of desperation from your throat.

“Please,” you begged, not even caring how desperate you sounded. You just wanted to feel him, all of him, and your core throbbed at the thought of him finally relenting and fucking you how you wanted. “Please give it to me. Please give me more.”

“Fuck, baby, I love hearing you beg for me,” Jungkook moaned, readjusting his grip on your hip. “Gonna give you exactly what you want.”

He hungrily kissed you for a few moments, sinking further into you before he pulled back, panting as he placed his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“Angel?” His voice was low and just the tone alone made you clench.

“Y-yes?”

He opened his eyes and smiled. “You might wanna hold on tight.”

You just had enough time to wrap your unoccupied arm around his back before he started pounding into you like his life depended on it. He slammed into you repeatedly, making you scream out his name over and over again whenever he’d hit that bundle of nerves inside of you. You gripped his shirt to have something to ground yourself with, and your eyes rolled back as he increased his pace.

Jungkook was grunting into your skin, teeth grazing against your neck. “You feel so fucking good, always so tight and perfect for me, my perfect angel.” He squeezed your hand hard enough that his knuckles were taut, but it didn’t hurt you. If anything, it turned you on more because he was finally letting go, caring more about just being in the moment with you than potentially hurting you.

And you knew he still did care about that, he always would; he was Jungkook, after all. But time and time again you had pleaded with him to stop handling you like you would break under the slightest amount of pressure. This was the first time he did without hesitation or working himself up to it.

And you fucking loved it.

In fact, it was overwhelming enough to the point where you knew you weren’t going to last long at all with the way he was drilling into you. All the emotions the two of you had endured tonight mixed with the passionate entanglement you found yourself wrapped up in now, it was no surprise that you were hurtling toward your undoing at a very fast pace.

“Koo, baby, oh my God-” you finally found your voice again, running your nails down his back, hard enough that if he hadn’t been still wearing his shirt, you’re sure it would have left scratch marks.

“Fuck, angel, can feel you around me, always so good for me,” his tongue darted out past his lips before he captured your bottom one between his teeth and tugged on it gently. “Always my good girl.”

His words made you spasm around him, and he moaned loudly at the feeling, eyes fluttering shut. His damp hair was falling into his face so you brushed it back, gasping at the sight of him.

You’d seen Jungkook like this many times before, but this time? This time was different.

A few curls were still framing his face but he had his head tilted back and his lips parted as the most amazing sounds escaped from them. His brows were furrowed and he looked almost pained, but in a completely different way than he had earlier that night.

Your heart ached at the memory, but you didn’t have long to think about it before he pulled you more flush against his chest, now opting to grab your ass with both hands so he could move you up and down his cock with his strength alone.

“Holy shit,” he breathed out, “I love you so much, angel, just wanna stay with you like this forever.” He was speeding up again and with the new angle, your body felt like it was on fire. You couldn’t even make a noise as the stimulation kept hitting you in wave after wave.

“You said earlier,” Jungkook continued, a little breathless now but never letting up on his powerful thrusts, “that I was ­– fuck – that I was your person.”

You nodded, still not really able to say anything or make any sound because your orgasm was approaching fast and you didn’t want it to happen so soon. Not until you knew he was there with you.

“Did you mean it,” he asked, hooded eyes trying to search yours. You kissed him with all the strength you could muster, swallowing down his moans as your walls clenched around him.

“Of course I did. I meant everything I said earlier.” A high-pitched moan tore itself from your throat when his hips snapped into you harder at your words.

“Fuck, it always does something to me when you say things like that,” he was losing his composure now, you could tell it by the way he sounded.

His admission made you chuckle fondly. “You know, you said something similar the first time we were together.”

Jungkook opened his eyes to stare at you and grinned at the memory. “Yeah, I did. Meant it then and I mean it now too.”

“I’m glad I still have that kind of effect on you,” you responded, breaking off to moan loudly at a harsher thrust. Jungkook’s grip on you tightened, and he increased his pace, finally pulling you over the edge.

“You do, holy shit, you really do. I hope I can say the same- fuck,” Jungkook knew you were close with the way your walls kept spasming around him every few seconds. “Gonna cum for me, baby?”

You nodded and whined, holding onto his shirt for dear life while he rocked you through the first stages of your euphoric bliss. He was panting right by your ear now, the sounds making your eyes roll back.

“Go on, cum for me then. Fucking love when you cum all over my cock,” Jungkook’s filthy words had you moaning out his name. “My beautiful angel,” he continued, pulling down the collar of your shirt slightly so he could place a kiss on your collarbone. “Always so pretty for me.”

“Fuck, I’m close, Koo, want you there with me,” you opened your eyes in time to see him pulling his lip between his teeth.

“I’m right there, baby, let go for me,” he reached in between the two of you and barely brushed your clit before your sudden orgasm made you clench so hard around him that he had to throw his head back and let out a guttural moan.

“Angel, fuuuuck, I’m right there, I’m-” you crashed your lips against his and swallowed down every loud noise he made, feeling his lips tremble against yours as his hips stuttered when he filled you up with his release.

He broke apart from you with a gasp, leaning his head back and letting out a strained “holy fuck” before he looked at you again. He slowed down now, thrusting a few more times before he stilled completely, breathing hard.

He moved you away from the wall, and you thought he might put you down but instead he tightened your legs more securely around him and walked the two of you over to the nearest bathroom to shower, his lips never leaving yours the whole way there.

Thank fuck Jungkook had such great muscle memory and knew where he was going because you definitely couldn’t have pulled that off.

He stayed inside you until he was able to put you in the shower, helping you discard the rest of your clothes before he did the same and joined you. It was your usual ritual and preferred form of aftercare since the water from the shower soothed any sore muscles and it helped you get clean in the process. Not to mention it was another way for you to be close to Jungkook, him only reiterating that truth now and he pulled your back against his chest so he could massage shampoo into your hair.

“Love you,” he whispered softly, placing a kiss on your temple since you leaned your head back at the feeling of his touch. He treated you so delicately now, the complete opposite of how he was just fucking you up against the wall. You loved moments like this just as much, always receptive to everything Jungkook did, every touch that flittered across your skin.

“I love you,” was your response as you turned around to wrap your arms around his neck and pulled him into a chaste kiss. He smiled into it, his fingertips brushing against the skin right above your waist.

After your shower, Jungkook carried you upstairs, ignoring your attempts at getting him to put you down because as you told him repeatedly your legs worked just fine and you could walk by yourself. His response?

“Don’t care, still wanna carry you.”

All you could do then was huff, pulling a laugh from the man you loved so much, the sound always beautiful and able to make your heart skip a beat.

When you were both snuggled into bed, you found it hard to sleep. There were still things you two needed to discuss, but you didn’t have the energy – and not really the want – right now to bring them up.

However, Jungkook did.

“Hey,” he was running his hand through your hair as you were laying your head on his shoulder. You hummed in response.

“I’m sorry,” he started, and before you could interrupt he quickly went on. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you, but I’m also sorry about how I acted earlier.”

“Koo, it’s fine-”

“Please don’t,” his eyes were pleading and you let him continue.

“It’s not fine, it’s- I get in my head sometimes and it can be hard to come back from that. You’re always able to bring me back, but tonight…fuck, it was bad.” There was a frown on his face now and you tried to make it disappear by placing a kiss on his cheek.

“I kept thinking about how maybe I’m not the best for you-”

You couldn’t help interrupting this time. “Jungkook, you are the best for me.”

“We don’t know that though-”

“I don’t have to, because I know in my heart that you’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we have the best life together, the same as I’ll do for you.” You brushed a curl out of his face before you continued, “Only for you.”

He cracked a smile. “That’s my line.”

You shrugged, giggling when Jungkook began trying to poke your sides. “Regardless though, I don’t want you feeling that way. You’re enough, Jungkook, you’re more than enough.”

His smile widened. “Really?”

“Really.” You thought about it for a second. “What can I do to convince you?”

He raised an eyebrow, eyes full of mischief. “Well, I can think of a way…” he said in a suggestive tone, making you roll your eyes before you turned away from him. His laughter fell on your ears and you couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face.

“Hey, c’mon, you know I’m just kidding,” he turned you to face him again, running his hand up and down your side now.

“No you’re not,” you snorted.

He pretended to think about it for a moment. “Ok, you’re right- but­ I know you’re too tired so I’m half kidding? Sorta?”

It was your turn to laugh then, huddling closer to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his throat.

His hands found their way into your hair again, and he continued to run them through the strands long enough that you almost fell asleep until he spoke up again.

“We need to do something about him, though.”

The way he said ‘him’ let you know exactly who he was talking about.

You nodded, sliding your head up to lay in the crook of his neck. “We will. But that’s a problem for another day. Right now,” you yawned, “we need sleep.”

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. “Get some sleep, angel. I’ll stay up a little bit to make sure you’re ok. Jin said it was a good idea for tonight, anyway.”

You were already nuzzling deeper into his embrace, barely registering his words. “Mm-hmm,” came your sluggish response. “Goodnight, Koo.”

“Night, baby,” was his last response you heard before slumber took over, the feeling of his strong arms around you more comforting than anything else you’d ever known.

Jungkook stayed awake for a few hours, listening to your soft snoring and observing you as you slept peacefully. There was a gentle ache tugging at his heart as he remembered everything that you’d been through that night, but when you unconsciously snuggled closer, he felt the ache dissipate.

He made a promise to himself that whatever happened in the future, he would be there for you. He would keep you as safe as he could, and love you with everything he had.

After all, you were his person, just as he was yours, and he hoped that’s how it would stay.

[works-of-fanfiction]

Together - 90s!Graham Coxon x Reader

Summary: Graham takes care of the reader after a particularly hard couple of weeks.

Warnings: Literally none - straight up, good old-fashioned fluff.

Word Count: 2.8k

Side Note: I haven’t written since 2019 or something like that, so forgive me if this isn’t the best!

————-

Sometimes you wonder whether your job is actually worth the exhaustion - your hand comes up to turn out the office light, exactly two hours and seventeen minutes later than you’d expected. Maybe it’s too much to ask for the work day to end at your contracted time. You scoff at yourself at the sheer thought, like your managers would ever treat you like a human being.

The tube ride home feels longer than usual, and you’re completely unable to focus on the book balanced in your lap. You’d always tried to be one of those leave work at work people - ‘don’t take your work home with you’ everyone says… but it’s impossible. You were good at your job, no doubt about that, but that came with the downside of being taken advantage of. People aren’t going to do their own dirty work when the overachiever down the corridor can do it for them. Though, how could you ever refuse? Why would you risk saying ‘no’?

Swinging the apartment door open, you drop your bag onto the ground and nudge it further to the side with your foot. Your loud entrance does not go unnoticed by your droopy-eyed boyfriend sprawled on the armchair. The first thing you feel when you see him is guilt. You don’t want to be the reason he forces himself to stay awake. You don’t want to be so fragile that he feels he can’t go to bed without seeing you first to make sure you’re alright. Once he catches sight of you, a weak smile spreads across his lips as he drags himself to his feet and shuffles over to where you’re standing. You paste a fake smile onto your face, hoping you can lie and pretend you had a good day so he can finally get some sleep.

“Hey sweetheart.” Graham mumbles, holding out his arms for you to fall into. You do just that, your head sinking onto his shoulder, inhaling his scent like it’s the last chance you’ll get. He holds you tightly in the doorway, supporting your body weight as you limply cling onto him. You claw at the back of his shirt, gathering the fabric between your fingers as if he could slip away any moment and disappear. His only response to this is to squeeze you as his chin rests on your head. “Hard day?” He finally asks, separating the two of you and holding you at arms length.

You don’t want to be a burden and you’d already come home from work two nights out of five this week feeling like this. You begin to shake your head, hoping that the lie will be easier to tell if you don’t speak, but as you stare into Graham’s eyes, you know he doesn’t buy it. The look on his face is all too familiar; he can read you like a book and he knows damn well that you’re not OK. Your head shake slowly evolves into a nod, and you don’t hold back the first sob that leaves your lips. Graham immediately catches you in his grasp again, holding you as you cry into his chest. He doesn’t waste time trying to find the right words to say to you because he knows that’s not what you need. You don’t need a soppy, motivational speech or a string of “it’s okay”s. Instead, you’re comforted by the beating of Graham’s heart and the warmth from his body as he carefully steps back and begins to guide you into the living room. You stand up straight and slip your hand into his, lacing your fingers together in that perfect way that just feels right. No matter where you are, as long as your hand finds his, you know you’re safe and that everything is going to be alright.

As you go to sit down, Graham stops you and helps slide your coat off of your shoulders. You sniffle, quietly thanking him as he tosses it over the back of the armchair. You sink onto the sofa, the throw blanket from the back already slipping off and bunching up behind you. You adjust, your fingers pinching at the stray hairs sticking to your tear-stained cheeks. All you can do is stare at your feet, your eyes tracing the triangular patterns on your socks - Graham’s socks that you’d put on in a hurry that morning. The extra bit of fabric hanging off the tip of your toes makes that evident. You’re too focused on the ground beneath you to hear Graham go into the kitchen.

He boils the kettle, reaching into the very back of the cupboard to find your favourite mug - a round cream-coloured cup with a black cat’s face painted onto it, wearing a pair of red glasses. He’d bought it for you in Camden as a silly little gift, but you fell in love with it the moment you saw it and have treasured it ever since. Though you barely use it, as you can’t trust your own clumsiness and you’re too scared you’ll break it.

Graham makes your tea just the way you like it and carefully carries it into the living room. He remembers to bring the half-eaten packet of custard creams with him too. He’s not sure you’ll want them, but he usually sneakily dips one into your tea when you’re not looking so they won’t entirely go to waste. With one hand, he pushes all the clutter on the coffee table to one side, and places the cup down in front of you with the cat facing in your direction. You look up, a small smile on your face as you spot the mug. Graham squeezes through the gap between your knees and the coffee table to sit down beside you.

“That was the last teabag, so drink up.” He gently teases, pointing at the cup. A small exhale of air from your nose is all you can muster to show your amusement as you reach forward and take a slow sip. It’s perfect, and that feeling of sad happiness washes over you. You’re happy to have Graham; happy that he’s there for you and happy that he remembers your particular taste in hot drinks. Who else would know that one sugar is not enough but two is too much? Who else would measure one and a half teaspoons and make sure it’s stirred in completely?

But the sadness still remains. You’re sad that he’s making the tea to try and cheer you up; sad that he’s used the last teabag and he’s going without a drink of his own. You’re sad that he’s sat here watching you cry one time too many.

It’s silent for a while. It’s clear he’s waiting for you to speak first but you’re not sure what to say. You feel like you’ve said everything a thousand times already, and the last thing you want is to be the broken record constantly spinning in the room.

You gulp down half of your tea before putting the mug back on the table. You turn to face Graham who scoots forward, eager to be there for you and ready to listen. He sits cross-legged, his sleeves rolled down to cover his hands with just his fingertips poking out. Your own fingers pick at a stray piece of thread hanging from the hem of your shirt, wrapping it around your forefinger then unwrapping it over and over. “I really really don’t like that place, Graham.” You whisper, part of you not wanting to hear your own admission. You’d fought hard for that job and were ashamed and embarrassed that it hadn’t gone the way you’d planned. Graham nods in understanding, moving closer to you to wrap an arm around you. He pulls you into him, your head resting on his shoulder as he rubs your back lovingly.

”I know, love.” He presses a kiss to your temple, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. Just having him beside you and feeling his touch is enough to calm the heavy beating of your heart and steady the shaking of your knees. “But hey, it’s Friday night which means tomorrow is Saturday. We have the entire weekend to do whatever we want! The entire weekend to not think about work for a single second.” He encourages, standing up and holding his hand out to you. “Come on.”

You reach over to grab your mug and quickly finish the rest of your drink. You grab a biscuit and bite half of it, feeding the other half to Graham. Crumbs fall from his mouth and he tries to catch them in his other hand but fails. You smile sadly, the kind that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, before taking his hand and letting him lead you to your bedroom. He sits you on the bed and grabs a fresh towel from the wardrobe. “First, let’s wash off the day, hmm?” He smiles and you nod in response. He leans over and kisses your forehead, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before disappearing into the bathroom to run a bubble bath. He fills it with your favourite coconut-scented bubbles and fumbles around in his pocket to find his lighter to ignite the candle on the windowsill. It’s almost completely melted away, but he’s certain there’s enough there for it to stay lit for tonight.

He hangs the towel over the radiator to warm it up and tests the water before calling you in. You shiver as you shuffle past Graham, then lower yourself into the water. You hiss at the heat at first, but you’re soon submerged and used to it. You look over to Graham who’s knelt on the floor beside you. “Aren’t you getting in?” You ask, lying down and covering yourself with the bubbles. He shakes his head, rolling his sleeves up and pushing his glasses onto the top of his head.

“This is for you, love. You deserve to relax.” He reaches into the bath and strokes your shoulder softly. He spots a hair tie on the counter and grabs it, then stands and leans over to help tie your hair back. He scrunches it all together and ties it into a messy bun on the top of your head. It doesn’t look the best but it does the job. You look at him and smile, grabbing his arm and giving it a loving squeeze. In that moment, all you can think about is how lucky you are to have Graham. Even something as simple as him tying your hair up makes your heart swell. You wish you could stay in this room with him forever and never face any responsibilities.

You sit up to grab the soap but he beats you to it, the sponge in his other hand. “What did I say about relaxing?” He starts, eyebrows raised. “Let me.”

“Graham, you don’t have t - “

“I want to.” He cuts you off, dipping the sponge into the water and rubbing it together with the soap. You lie back down and he slowly starts to wash you, leaning over the bathtub to reach your legs. You watch as the water spills over the side a little and dampens his shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind. His fingertips lightly brush your thigh and you flinch as it tickles you. Graham laughs, doing it again on purpose until you’re practically kicking your feet like a paddling dog.

“Graham!” You squeal, grabbing his wrist and using all your strength to stop him. He splashes you in the face and you splash him back, just missing him as he ducks out of the way.

“You’re going to be the one cleaning that up later.” He jokes, gesturing to the small puddle behind him. You cover your mouth with your hand, laughing quietly as he shakes his head and continues his path up your body with the sponge. He’s gentle throughout, making sure not to scrub too harshly. You move so he can wash your back last, before he wrings out the sponge and places it back on the edge of the tub. “All clean.” He smiles, drying his hands on his jeans. You lie back, not wanting to get out just yet.

“Tell me about your day Graham, tell me something good.” You say, closing your eyes and letting the bubbles cover you again, or what’s left of them at least. He pushes his glasses back onto his face and ruffles his hair, sitting against the door with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“We rehearsed a couple songs today. We didn’t get through the whole setlist as Dave wasn’t feeling too well, and what can we do without the drummer, eh?” You keep your eyes closed as you listen to Graham talk. You could listen to him talk about music and the band for hours. You’re unbelievably proud of him and you know you’ll never get tired of hearing about every new song, music video or ridiculous lyric Damon has come out with. “Alex bought everyone lunch which was nice. Damon thought he’d broken something and was trying to butter us up or bribe us with the food!” He laughs, the sound so infectious that you can’t help but laugh with him.

“Was he bribing you?” You ask, opening your eyes and looking over at him. Butterflies dance inside your stomach as you admire Graham under the glaring white light above his head. Even in poor bathroom lighting he’s still the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid eyes on. His sleeves are still rolled up to his elbows and you can see little pen scribbles on one of his arms, most likely rushed notes from rehearsal. He never did allow himself the time to just find a piece of paper. His hair is sticking out a little at the front, probably from where his glasses were sitting previously. His cheeks are a rosy pink colour, as are yours, caused by the humidity in the room.

“Nope! He was just being nice.” He grins, standing to grab the towel from the radiator. He holds it out for you and you get up, quickly getting out and wrapping yourself in it. You mentally praise his genius for leaving it on the radiator, thankful for how warm it is. It’s exactly what you need, especially on a cold night in the middle of February.

He leads you back into the bedroom and runs over to close the window to keep you warm. “Alright, pyjamas or - “

”Can I have one of your shirts?” You interrupt, looking towards his set of drawers in the corner. “I don’t want the one you’re wearing, you’re all… soggy.”

He laughs at your choice of words before rummaging through his middle drawer to find the right shirt. He tosses it over to you and it’s one of your favourites; red, long-sleeved and fleecy on the inside. You slide it on with your usual stripy pyjama pants and let your hair down. Graham strips off and takes your laundry into the bathroom to put into the basket. Whilst there, he roughly dries the floor and blows out the candle. He then does a quick scan of the apartment to make sure everything is switched off and the door is locked properly before getting into bed with you.

It pours with rain outside but you love the sound against the windows. Graham hoists himself up against the bed frame and you lay your head on his chest, throwing your left arm over him. Both of your legs wrap around one of his and he keeps you close with his arm around your back. “So, what do you want to do tomorrow?” He asks, his hand drifting upwards to play with the ends of your hair.

“Can we go to Covent Garden and get cinnamon waffles and ice cream?” He chuckles at your response and the specificity of it.

“Ice cream in this weather?”

You nod, your hair tickling his bare chest. He pulls you in closer and adjusts the blanket so you’re covered properly. “Anything for you, sweetheart.” He kisses your head, and you sit up a little to face him. You stretch upwards to kiss him, his hand staying in your hair as he kisses back. You can still taste the sugar from the biscuits on his lips, and you smile into the kiss before lying back down and closing your eyes. You both whisper “I love you”s before you press one last kiss on his shoulder. Graham’s soft breathing coupled with the rain outside begins to lull you to sleep. He stays awake, stroking your hair and watching your feet fidget beneath the covers.

“You don’t have to go back to that job next week. I’ve got things covered until something else comes along.” He whispers, and you barely register his words as you hum in response and nuzzle your head into his chest. In that moment, everything feels OK and Graham knows that as long as you’re together and you have each other, that nothing can bring either of you down for too long. Once your breathing evens out, he closes his own eyes, but not without telling you how lucky he is beforehand. You’re not awake to hear it, but that doesn’t matter.